Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable: With a Foreword by Jan Eliasson and a Preface by Raimo Väyrynen (Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice, 30) 3030628477, 9783030628475

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Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30

Peter Wallensteen

Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable With a Foreword by Jan Eliasson and a Preface by Raimo Väyrynen

Department of Peace and Conflict Research —

Uppsala Conflict Data Program, UCDP —

Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice Volume 30

Series Editor Hans Günter Brauch, Peace Research and European Security Studies (AFES-PRESS), Mosbach, Germany

More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/15230 http://www.afes-press-books.de/html/PAHSEP.htm http://afes-press-books.de/html/PAHSEP_Wallensteen.htm

Peter Wallensteen

Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable

With a Foreword by Jan Eliasson and a Preface by Raimo Väyrynen

123

Peter Wallensteen Institutionen för freds- och konfliktforskning/Department of Peace and Conflict Research Uppsala Universitet/Uppsala University Uppsala, Sweden

Acknowledgement: More on Professor Peter Wallensteen, his books, other publications and links to selected media are found at: http://afes-press-books.de/html/PAHSEP_Wallensteen. htm. ISSN 2509-5579 ISSN 2509-5587 (electronic) Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice ISBN 978-3-030-62847-5 ISBN 978-3-030-62848-2 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. Book cover photo by Magnus Aronson, with permission. Copyediting: PD Dr. Hans Günter Brauch, AFES-PRESS e.V., Mosbach, Germany This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

To the Future: Our grandchildren Etta, Aron, Morris, Nina, Tage and Holly

Foreword

Jan Eliasson, Chair of SIPRI, speaking at the Stockholm Forum on Peace and Development 2018. Photo: Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) with permission

Partnership in Peacemaking: My Collaboration with Peter Wallensteen The special Swedish envoy to civil society, Ambassador Olle Dahlén, introduced me to Peter Wallensteen in the mid-1980s. Dahlén was engaged in constructing the ecumenical Life and Peace Institute, a result of the global conference on Life and Peace that met in Uppsala in 1983. Peter was engaged with the Department of Peace vii

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and Conflict Research at Uppsala University. He provided lessons for how to build an institution concerned with global issues of war and peace. Peter and I have remained in close touch ever since. Under Peter’s leadership, the Department grew to become a leading academic center as well as a resource for the formation of Swedish and international policies in the field of peace, peacebuilding and conflict prevention. I am happy to see that his colleagues and successors have followed the same path. I was fortunate to become a regular lecturer at the Department’s annual International Program on Conflict Resolution (the PACS courses), funded by Swedish development aid. These programs have continued in different forms, now for more than thirty years. Peter and I shared an understanding in the importance of such courses to reach out to the world, and in particular, to the Global South, with scholarly based insights in topics such as conflict resolution, conflict prevention and international institutions. When I travel around the world, I very often meet persons who have participated in these courses. They have become members of government, heads of public agencies, leaders of civil society organizations, professors, teachers and journalists. Many have been involved in peace processes, mediation efforts and conflict management. In that way, these courses have contributed to project the importance of academic training for global development. They have also been instrumental in demonstrating Sweden’s emphasis on global solidarity. The alumni network of persons with such experiences of Sweden’s international policies was also important when I was leading the Swedish campaign to win a seat at the UN Security Council for the period 1997–1998. When I was Sweden’s ambassador to the United Nations and then the first head of the Department of Humanitarian Affairs (DHA, today: OCHA) in 1988–1994, I could daily observe the negative impact of political conflicts and war on humanitarian conditions. It would not just be enough to finding remedies to people’s suffering, it was also important to solve the disputes that led to the wars. Thus, I initiated a process that involved Peter and the Uppsala Department in creating dialogue on the Cambodian conflict. It was an issue of concern to the UN at the time. It was a crucial part of the ending of the Cold War. Solving this conflict was key to finding peace for Indochina and Southeast Asia. The Department arranged sessions with the different parties to this conflict. Thoughtfully, the discussions were not arranged in Sweden, but in the region. Peter suggested Malaysia as the location and the Universiti Sains Malaysia as the host. He brought with him his colleague Ramses Amer from the Department and the head of the small peace studies unit at that university Dr. Johan Saravanamuttu. The dialogues worked well, not the least as the Cambodian participants could see the benefits of peace when comparing their own situation to Malaysia’s economy after 30 years of independence. This encounter between the different sides of the conflict provided important inputs into the negotiations that resulted in the peace agreement in Paris in October 1991. This was an experience in what Peter termed “academic diplomacy.”

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When returning to Sweden in 1994, I took up an assignment with the OSCE (Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe) as Chair of the Minsk Group in the conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan over Nagorno-Karabakh. A most difficult task, indeed, particularly as this was a geographical region where Russia wanted to retain its traditional role as the ultimate arbitrator. I helped find a formula for a cease-fire in 1994, but it turned out to be much more difficult to arrive at a solution to the conflict. Peter and his colleague Kjell-Åke Nordquist at the Department pursued this, notably by producing documents on an autonomy solution that might have been satisfactory to all sides. In fact, I could do this in my dual role: I was not only the OSCE envoy for this conflict; I was at the same time Visiting Professor at the Department in Uppsala! I could hand the parties a document, which I termed an “academic” paper asking for their response. At least, it injected new ideas into the process. Solving conflict has always been hard. The work by Peter and his colleagues has been instrumental in demonstrating that solutions can be found, notably in his book Understanding Conflict Resolution. But they are not easy to come by. I believe, however, that this type of academic work is useful in negotiations. Thus, when I was the UN Special Envoy for the Darfur conflict in 2007–2008, I had a team in Stockholm working on solutions. To the staff, I recruited a young researcher from Uppsala, on Peter’s advice, Johan Brosché. He has now turned into one of Scandinavia’s leading scholars on the Sudanese conflicts as well as on African conflicts. However, realizing that conflicts are difficult to end and even more difficult to solve, leads to the logical conclusion that they have to be prevented before they become to complicated. To act early, before suffering, deaths and destruction were too high, would be healthier for all involved. These were matters that Peter and I discussed repeatedly in the early 1990s, and where he had lots of ideas of what could be done. When I was State Secretary for Foreign Affairs (1994–2001), I and my colleague Anders Bjurner launched a number of initiatives to make conflict prevention a central concern in Swedish policies for international affairs. Of course, this was also something dear to the Ministers themselves (Lena Hjelm-Wallén and Anna Lindh). One element in this was to create a special forum in the Ministry for discussion on possible peace and prevention initiatives (RFSI, the Council for Peace and Security Initiatives). Peter took an active role in this. As the minutes were distributed throughout the Ministry, all officials became aware of what this entailed. We could pursue conflict prevention on many levels: in the UN Security Council as a member; with the UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan; as well as in the European Union, which agreed to make conflict prevention an important tool in the Union’s international strategy. It was first used by Anna Lindh in EU’s handling of the crisis in Macedonia in 2001. An element in this was the comprehensive conference that the Ministry organized together with the Department at the Krusenberg Manor outside Uppsala in August 1997. It was a remarkable gathering of leading policy makers, activists as well as researchers and teachers (it resulted in the volume Preventing Violent

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Conflict. Past Record and Future Challenges). It demonstrated the importance of bringing these different communities together. Benefiting from this, it gave me strength in arguing for the importance of conflict prevention. Concretely, this led to an informal channel, a track-II process, between the Department with Peter and Kjell-Åke Nordquist, the Indonesian government and Fretilin, the leading opposition to Indonesia’s occupation of East Timor. It was initiated in 1996 and continued until the independence of East Timor. Certainly, one of the earlier topics under discussion was the possibility of a temporary autonomy for East Timor, while being part of Indonesia. It would have provided for a more peaceful ending of the conflict than what came to happen in 1999. The topic of prevention remains important, also in a post-9/11 and post-Corona world. A very special assignment for me was to brief the young Crown Princess Victoria on international affairs. I appreciated her great interest and encouraged her to study at Uppsala University. I was very happy to see that she and Peter connected well. Although she had a busy schedule, he and his colleague Thomas Ohlson managed to make a study program for the Crown Princess so that she could meet all the requirements for an exam. In 2009, Victoria finished her BA in peace studies and political science. I was happy to see this outcome! It was great for me to be appointed Honorary Doctor and then Visiting Professor for a second time, in 2007, to the Department of Peace and Conflict Research. It coincided with my assignment for Darfur, but I certainly had time also to meet and discuss with Peter, his colleagues, and not the least, the Department’s students. Lecturing and sharing experiences are important. The book, The Go-Between: Jan Eliasson and the Styles of Mediation, done by Peter and his colleague Isak Svensson, incorporates and systematizes a host of lessons that I have drawn from my many international assignments. Sharing experiences on mediation has always been important in our contacts. At the UN, the Mediation Support Unit created a special Academic Advisory Council as a way to connect practice and academic insights. Peter was one of the academics involved in this, together with other leading scholars, notably I. William Zartman. During my time as Deputy Secretary-General in the UN (2012–2016), I always tried to encourage such contacts. They are valuable for the practitioners, but it is also my impression that it stimulates researchers with a concern for global affairs. Over the years, the complexities in dealing with international peace and security have increased. Sometimes, it is a result also of an understanding what peace entails. I tried to make this clear as I had the somber task of delivering the 2011 annual Dag Hammarskjöld Lecture at Uppsala University. It was scheduled for September 18 at 4 pm; exactly 50 years after the Swedish National Radio broke the news that the Secretary-General had died in the plane crash outside Ndola, Northern Rhodesia (now: Zambia). This is a yearly event organized by the Dag Hammarskjöld Foundation and Uppsala University, represented by its Vice Chancellor as well as Peter, as the first holder of the Dag Hammarskjöld Chair in peace and conflict research. In this lecture, I pointed to the close connections between peace, development and human rights. Achieving international peace and security is not only a matter of ending or

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preventing wars. It is also a matter of how development is pursued, and not the least how respect for human rights is upheld. Achieving peace and security requires a comprehensive approach. Research for peace needs this as well. Human rights have become increasingly important in my understanding. I can see the same in Peter’s professional development, now chairing Uppsala University’s committee for human rights. The Holmdahl Prize, named after the former Vice Chancellor of Uppsala University, is a way of highlighting the importance of adherence to human rights also to teachers, students and friends of the university. It is with joy I have accepted to be invited to speak on this topic, thus promoting human rights with the university and its alumni. This complex understanding of peace requires multi-disciplinary research and a strong daily focus on this problem. The Department of Peace and Conflict Research has achieved this. It is always a pleasure for me to visit this milieu and meet Peter Wallensteen in the environment of creative researcher, teachers and students. Täby, Sweden July 2020

Ambassador Jan Eliasson

Ambassador Jan Eliasson is a Swedish diplomat. He served as Deputy Secretary-General of the United Nations 2012–2016 and Sweden’s Minister for Foreign Affairs in 2006 after being Ambassador to Washington, D.C., 2000–2005 and State Secretary of Foreign Affairs 1994–1999. In the years 1988–1992, Eliasson was Sweden’s Permanent Representative to the UN. He was the first UN Under-Secretary-General for Humanitarian Affairs, 1992–1994, and elected President of the UN General Assembly 2005–2006. Jan Eliasson was appointed UN Secretary-General’s Special Envoy for Iran–Iraq in 1988–1992 after participating in Swedish Prime Minister Olof Palme’s mediation mission for this conflict 1980–1986. He was also the UN Special Envoy for the conflict in Darfur 2007–2008 and held a similar position for OSCE with regard to the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict 1992–1994. He was Visiting Professor at the Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University, in 2007 as well as in 1993–1994. He became Honorary Doctor at Uppsala University in 2005. Ambassador Eliasson was born in Göteborg, Sweden, in 1940, has a master degree in economics and has written on conflict prevention. Since 2017, he serves as the Chair of the SIPRI Governing Board.

Preface

Raimo Väyrynen (right) with former President of Finland Martti Ahtisaari (left), Helsinki 2007. Photo: From the personal collection of Väyrynen family, used with permission

A Personal Testimony to the Career of Peter Wallensteen According to a popular theory in the social sciences, a generation is a cohort, which is united by a foundational experience creating a common Lebenswelt. Having followed the field for over five decades, I would contend that Nordic peace xiii

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research, which was largely started by social scientists born in and around the 1940s, forms such a generation—one that has been tied together by recollections of World War II. Few of us are old enough to have any personal impressions of the war, but all of us were raised under the shadow of World War and nuclear weapons. Obviously, our national experiences in the various Nordic countries differed. Our mothers and fathers were on the military’s frontlines, toiled on the home front, or were exiled abroad. This left us with a common, generational experience in spite of different national and social backgrounds. Moreover, practically all of us were males, as women had not yet made their breakthrough into the ranks of peace researchers. This generational experience resulted in the view that there must be a different way than warfare to manage relations between states. This was the thought, which was deeply felt by Mauno Koivisto, a future President of Finland (1982–1994), when, as a 21-year-old, he returned from the frontlines to civilian life. This foundational experience was connected in our generation with the empirical revolution in the social sciences. While the generation before us had mostly been trained in the historical method to research behavior of human beings and societies, our generation believed in collection and analysis of data instead of casual observations of behavior by individual decision-makers. This revolution was largely imported from the USA where scholars like Karl W. Deutsch, Ted Robert Gurr, Bruce M. Russett and J. David Singer initiated new empirical approaches in international studies. Peter Wallensteen, during his career, forged close cooperative relations with all of them. Thus, our generation was the first truly Anglo-Saxon cohort of Nordic scholars dealing with the issues of peace and war, animated with holistic and empirical observations of social structures. Moreover, nuclear weapons overshadowed the life of every human being, in Asia, Europe and North America. In Norway, this group included Johan Galtung and Nils Petter Gleditsch, in Denmark Anders Boserup and Hans Henrik Holm, in Sweden Peter Wallensteen and Håkan Wiberg, and in Finland Pertti Joenniemi and me, to mention just a few names. Johan Galtung was the magnet that drew most of us together in the late 1960s and helped to create a social generation, closely corresponding to Karl Mannheim’s notion from 1928. Galtung was an incredibly active and talented scholar, although occasionally self-centered, who, being more than ten years older than the rest of us, already had considerable international experience in the study of peace and non-violence. Our generation was in no way united in its outlook and attitude toward international affairs. There were, however, tensions with the older generation of political scientists who had an “objective” and somewhat stale view of social institutions and political behavior. Pierre Bourdieu has distinguished between succession strategies and subversion strategies in the choice of young scholars in their research topics and methods. We were not as radical as “revolutionary” peace researchers, but were no doubt disinclined to follow the succession strategies. There was an element of subversion in our work that was seen in the choices of structural violence, imperialism, transnational corporations and civil wars as our research topics. For instance, the Vietnam War was seen through the lenses of these factors.

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Nordic cooperation in peace and conflict research was gradually taking shape over the course of the 1960s. My first meeting with Peter took place in Sigtuna, the oldest city in Sweden, in April 1968; it was organized by Peter, Håkan Wiberg and Bo Wirmark and was a small get-together on economic sanctions and non-violence. Peter had an early and enduring interest in economic sanctions, starting with the case of Rhodesia. Our second meeting took place in August 1968 in Helsinki in connection with the Nordic conference of political scientists, just before the Soviet occupation of Czechoslovakia. Early on Peter was in contact with the Finnish peace research community that was taking shape in the late 1960s. The Tampere Peace Research Group was established in 1968, and the Tampere Peace Research Institute (TAPRI) started its activities in 1970. Peter was the first international scholar to stay for a longer period at the Institute in the fall of 1970. Simultaneously, he lectured at the University of Tampere on development theory, which, in addition to peace research, was his abiding interest. This was the first academic visit by Peter to Finland, and it was followed by several more stays in subsequent decades. These visits gave him a chance to become quite familiar with peace research in Finland as an emerging activity. Our first cooperative project focused on the economic structure of the Nordic system from the 1920s to the 1970s and its impact on the internal and external political relations of the Nordic countries. The international structure was operationalized by trade flows. The framework of this book-length study, entitled The Nordic System. Structure and Change, 1920–1970 (1973), was originally Peter’s idea. It was drafted in four days of intensive work in the basement of a house in Åland Islands, which was rented by our team that also included Unto Vesa from Tampere. This study, to my mind, was truly innovative and should have merited a larger international audience through an international publishing house. Instead, the report came out in mimeographed versions from the Tampere and Uppsala peace research institutions and hence had only a limited circulation. The same theoretical and operational structure, using trade flows as an indicator, was also used in Peter’s excellent doctoral thesis Structure and War: On International Relations 1920–1968 (1973). The state actors were grouped into topdogs and underdogs, and the trade orientation in their pairwise relations was compared to the occurrence of war in their mutual relations. The study also focused on the connections between structures and conflicts in Europe before and after the Second World War. The thesis was publicly defended at the Department of Political Science at Uppsala University. The primary opponent was Helge Hveem from Oslo, while I served as the second opponent. You can imagine how nervous I was as a freshly minted 26-year-old doctor! Peter’s thesis was the first dissertation I was involved in as an official examiner and, furthermore, the defense was conducted in English, a foreign language which I mastered less than perfectly. The publications using international trade data were linked to Peter’s lifelong interest in economic sanctions and their use as nonviolent punishment of nations initiating warfare, undemocratic changes and violation of human rights in societies. While often inefficient in their outcomes, economic and other sanctions were a

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nonviolent alternative to war and hence, a preferable means of influence. Over time, sanctions have also become more sophisticated and have been designed to be more selective in terms of their choice of targets and instrumental influence. In addition to several international articles, Peter’s publications also include a book-length study of economic sanctions, Ekonomiska sanktioner (1971), exploring ten cases of sanctions. Economic sanctions also opened Peter’s way as an expert to the United Nations, which had the mandate to initiate multilateral sanctions to affect the policies of misbehaving states. The interest in the United Nations also led him to produce a think piece on reforming the Security Council. Unfortunately, it has remained on paper together with all other proposals for reforms of its structure. International cooperation was one focal point of our activities. A beginning were the Nordic peace research conferences, which initially were held every second year, and were one of the shared arenas of peace researchers. As Nordic peace research was in the lead internationally, these meetings were indeed formative experiences for young scholars in the field. An additional forum on which we left our mark was the world conferences of the International Peace Research Association, IPRA, held in the 1970s in Yugoslavia, India, Finland, Mexico and Germany. At the conference in Finland in 1975, I was elected the Secretary-General of the Association (which actually was the same as its Chairperson). The chair did not receive a salary but thanks to support from the President of Finland, Urho Kekkonen, the Finnish Government provided IPRA with annual funding. By this grant, we were able to hire one full-time person to work for international peace research. Peter was elected a member of the executive committee of the Association, meaning that we served together for the period of 1975–1979. He was elected to that position again in the 1980s. The study of war and international order was one of the main areas of Peter’s creative and many-sided projects. I particularly liked an article which he published in Journal of Peace Research in 1981 entitled Incompatibility, Confrontation and War: Four Models and Three Historical Systems, 1816–1976. It neatly summarized several strong points in his research methodology: theoretical models, empirical work and historical approach which were tied together into a coordinated whole. During his career, Peter also touched upon a great variety of issues ranging from necessities of life, such as food and water, through conflict resolution and mediation to Lebenswelt of accomplished diplomats, including a countryman, Dag Hammarskjöld. Peter even ventured into actual conflict resolution when he was invited to help in settling the violent conflict in copper-rich Bougainville, geographically a part of the Solomon Islands. The population of Bougainville yearned for greater independence from Papua New Guinea. Peter served an extended period of time as the first Dag Hammarskjöld Professor in Peace and Conflict Research at Uppsala University and Head of the Department before retiring. Peter’s appointment to that position in the mid-1980s was a somewhat complicated issue. It reflected the struggle between old-fashioned political science and a “subversive” young field known as peace research. Peter was undoubtedly an accomplished and competent candidate for the position, which was also the view by one of the experts, Professor Erik Allardt. Another candidate for

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the position was Kjell Goldmann, who also had strong credentials to support him. He was, however, a political scientist, not a peace researcher. I recall how much genuine interest and support Peter’s candidacy created among peace researchers. We even provided written evidence to Uppsala University to support Peter’s application. I don’t know whether this operation helped the cause but, ultimately, Peter was appointed. His most important contribution to the field is the Uppsala Conflict Data Program, which he initiated in the Department. It has resulted in the publication of an annual report of occurrence and duration of armed conflicts in the Journal of Peace Research and other outlets, which initially included the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI), which published the report in 1987– 2017, the Carter Center (USA) and the Human Security Project (Canada). The reports were the first of their kind, but the collection of conflict data later became a crowded field. However, the Uppsala program has remained a leader. It was also a major educational effort in which a number of younger peace researchers started their careers. The Uppsala department continues to be one of the main centers of peace research, complete with a Ph.D. program of its own, in the Nordic countries and internationally. The high quality of the Uppsala Conflict Data Program was observed in 2010–2011 in an international evaluation of Uppsala University in which I took part. Our paths also crossed on the other side of the Atlantic, at the University of Notre Dame. In 1993, I was appointed the Regan Director of the Joan B. Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies and Professor of Government. The Institute is funded from a generous grant from Joan B. Kroc and focuses, in addition to its academic programs, on the resolution of conflicts in a wider sense and their social and religious aspects. During my tenure at the Kroc Institute, he visited the Kroc Institute in the 1990s and again in the early 2000s when he stayed for one semester. Peter contributed a chapter in our project on The Waning of Major War, whose main results came out as a book in 2006. Peter was a major international recruitment for the Institute and spent the years 2006–2018 in the service of the Institute along with his wife, Lena, who has been an important partner throughout his career. Peter was each fall semester at the Kroc Institute, now part of the Keough School of Global Affairs, as Richard G. Starmann Sr. Research Professor, invigorating its research program and teaching in conflict studies. A rather exceptional task fell upon me when I was asked by Uppsala University to review the B.A. work of Sweden’s Crown Princess, Victoria, in 2009. The Dean of the Faculty of Social Sciences in Uppsala obviously believed that someone from outside Sweden would be less inhibited in reviewing her work. To perform this task, I went to Stockholm, met Peter, who served as one of her supervisors, and received from him the empirical components of her work. I had about one hour to acquaint myself with her empirical endeavor before heading to the royal palace to discuss her work. The discussion lasted for about an hour and a half, after which it was clear to me that the Crown Princess had mastered the theoretical outline and empirical material of her work. I recommended it for approval by the university without hesitation.

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I believe that the connections between Peter and me over the years have been beneficial for peace research in both our countries. It has also helped to develop Peter’s connection to Finland. When meeting at my second home in Southern Finland in 2017 together with Unto Vesa, we discussed the importance of history to our lives. Peter mentioned that his father had been a Swedish army volunteer on Finland’s side in the Winter War and that he was proud to have received a medallion from Marshal Gustaf Mannerheim. It reinforced for Peter how our countries have been connected historically and continue to this day. It also affects how we, in this generation, conceive of peace research. Peter Wallensteen is a leading scholar of the first generation of peace researchers, and he has remained faithful in his choice of research topics over half a century. Without being subversive in the radical sense of the word, his research has challenged many of the established truths and pioneered many important openings in peace and conflict studies. Helsinki, Finland July 2020

Raimo Väyrynen

Raimo Väyrynen (b. 1947) is a leading peace researcher in Finland, with a Ph.D. in political science, University of Tampere (1973), and Director of Tampere Peace Research Institute (TAPRI) 1972–1978, tenured professor of political science, University of Helsinki 1978–1993, and Dean of the Faculty of Social Sciences, 1989–1993. In 1993–2002, he was a professor of political science and Director of the Joan B. Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies at the University of Notre Dame, USA. He has also been a visiting scholar at Princeton University, the University of Minnesota, Massachusetts Institute of Technology and Harvard University. Returning to Finland, he was the Director of the Helsinki Collegium of Advanced Studies (2002–2004), President of the Academy of Finland (2004–2007) and Director of the Finnish Institute of International Affairs (2007–2009). He served as the Secretary-General of the International Peace Research Association 1975–1979. He was also a member of the Executive Council of the United Nations University and chaired the Copenhagen Peace Research Institute. He participated in academic evaluations, for instance, of the Danish Institute of International Studies, the European University Institute, and the universities in Uppsala and Göteborg (Gothenburg). As a researcher, he has published extensively in multiple languages on international peace and security, on international political economy and on the theory and history of international relations. Notable are The Waning of Major War: Theory and Debates (2006) and numerous articles in Journal of Peace Research, Cooperation and Conflict and International Studies Quarterly.

Acknowledgements

Cover photo and assistance with many of the photos: Magnus Aronson, Uppsala. Critical and constructive reading of texts: My wife Lena Wallensteen and our friend Bill Montross. Many thanks to Hans-Günter Brauch, the editor of this volume, and the Springer team in Chennai, Tamil Nadu, notably Ms. Jayanthi Krishnamoorthi and Ms. Priyadharshini Subramani, typesetters and graphic designers. For more information on the author, go to pcr.uu.se/about us/faculty and staff and https:// katalog.uu.se/empinfo/?id=XX1659. Uppsala, Sweden August 2020

Peter Wallensteen

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On This Volume

Part I gives basic information about me, the author, including a comprehensive bibliography. Parts II, III and IV contain texts from ten different areas that are important for peace research, ranging from sanctions to quality peace. Section A, in Part II “Peaceful Means,” offers lessons for how to operate a research milieu with ethical concerns, followed by accounts of how the peace research agenda has been formed and an article on the researcher’s responsibility for the consequences of his/her findings. The reproduced Code of Ethics for Researchers was the result of a formal interdisciplinary effort at Uppsala University in the early 1980s. It is still quite exceptional. Part II also deals with sanctions, a topic which has been of primary concern to me since my first scholarly publication (in 1968). Two additional studies of sanctions are included here. As explained in Part I, I led an international effort to reform the UN’s use of sanctions, the Stockholm Process in 2001–2003. At that time, there was a lack of sanctions research with regard to the impact of targeted sanctions on individuals as well as their utility for conflict resolution. Two such texts are included. In peace research, mediation of conflicts is central and captured my attention already in the 1980s, but the end of the Cold War changed the focus. Thus, only publications from the 2010s have been included, some of them carried out with Isak Svensson. In addition, there is a reflective essay on the “Munich syndrome.” Part II ends with chapters dealing with international organizations. The UN Security Council is a constant subject for reform. Consequently, I present a proposal with ideas that seem relevant even today. That regional organizations sometimes have been regarded as alternatives to the UN gave rise to the reflections in one chapter. Part III focuses directly on war. Obviously, understanding the causes of war is of central concern to peace research. The Uppsala Conflict Data Program, UCDP, has taken on a crucial role, and a few of its definitions are explained. Also included is an article analyzing major power relations in terms of particularism and universalism as well as a theoretical study of different models for understanding international affairs. xxi

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One of the ideas with UCDP is to observe conflicts before they escalate into wars. Thus, conflict prevention is of significant concern, and advances in this field are demonstrated in two chapters: one on genocide prevention and one that systematically analyzes the experiences of Dag Hammarskjöld resulting in suggestions for today’s diplomacy. Part IV deals with peace. These texts elaborate on the long-term changes that can prevent conflicts from recurring and identify the conditions for peace with quality. In the 1990s, feminist thinking enriched peace research. Without a doubt, the gender variable (as well as other dimensions of human identity) had been overlooked. The academic background of the significant resolution 1325 (2000) by the Security Council is presented here for the first time. In order not to forget the efforts by Alva Myrdal, an early woman pioneer in the field of disarmament, a chapter on her approach to negotiation, is included. The connection between peace and economic development remains of great interest to me, going back to my days in development studies. That food, which should be a human right, can be used as a tool for power is shown in one article. Another one deals with the conditions when drought might result not only in food shortages but also in conflict. In the 1970s, there were extensive discussions on possible connections between disarmament and local development, exemplified here in a study of military base closings. In this section, there is also an article of immediate relevance to climate change, as it draws lessons from disputed freshwater resources. Part IV also demonstrates that researchers can contribute insights that are useful in ongoing conflicts. This is academic diplomacy where academics play a role in diplomacy for conflict resolution. Two such experiences are recounted in Section J. To make reading, referencing and retrieval of these writings easier, I have included a list of abbreviations in the beginning of the book and an index at the very end.

Contents

Part I 1

2

The Author

The Making of a Peace Researcher . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Wallensteen 1.1 Researching Peace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.2 Appreciating Cooperation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.3 Entering Uppsala University . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.4 Discovering Peace Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.5 Grasping University Affairs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.6 Becoming Dag Hammarskjöld Professor . . . . . . . . . . . 1.7 Globalizing the Department . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.8 Developing the Uppsala Conflict Data Program, UCDP 1.9 Taking on Public Service Assignments . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.10 Understanding Conflict Resolution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.11 Connecting to the World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.12 Experiencing Other Universities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.13 Characterizing My Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Comprehensive Bibliography of Peter Wallensteen . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Wallensteen 2.1 Books, Monographs, Edited Works, Major Reports . . . . . . . . . . 2.2 Articles in Scholarly Books and Journals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Peaceful Means

A Establishing Peace Research 3

Foundational Debates for the Study of Societal Problems: Lessons from Peace Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Wallensteen 3.1 Peace Research as an Example . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.2 Peace Research in the Nordic Countries: A Short History . . . . .

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Foundational Topics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.3.1 The First Debate: Action or Research? . . . . . . . . 3.3.2 The Second Debate: Urgent Issues or Long-Term Change? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.3.3 The Third Debate: Inside or Outside the Universities? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.3.4 The Fourth Debate: Autonomy or Merger? . . . . . 3.3.5 The Fifth Debate: Conditions for a Creative Environment: Cooperative or Adversarial? . . . . . . Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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The Origins of Contemporary Peace Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Wallensteen 4.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.2 Peace Research, Violence and Peace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.3 Empirical Peace Research and Social Ethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.4 Global Traumas and the Development of Peace Research . . . 4.4.1 The World War I Trauma, Causes of War Research, and International Organizations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.4.2 The Trauma of World War II and Disarmament Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.4.3 The Cold War Trauma and Conflict Theory . . . . . . . 4.4.4 The Trauma of the Vietnam War and Asymmetric Conflict . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.4.5 The Post-Cold War Period and Peacebuilding Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.5 Traumas, Hopes and the Future of Peace Research . . . . . . . . 4.6 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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The Uppsala Code of Ethics for Scientists . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bengt Gustafsson, Lars Rydén, Gunnar Tibell, and Peter Wallensteen 5.1 Ethical Problems in Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.2 The Responsibility of Scientists . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.3 Individual Responsibility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.4 Ecology and War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.5 Negative or Positive Code? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.6 Duty to Inform . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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B Refining Sanctions 6

Characteristics of Economic Sanctions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115 Peter Wallensteen 6.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115 6.2 Economic Sanctions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117

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General Features of Economic Sanctions 6.3.1 Success . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.3.2 Sender-Oriented Theories . . . . . 6.3.3 Receiver-Oriented Theories . . . . 6.3.4 SR-Relation-Oriented Theories . 6.3.5 Environment-Oriented Theories . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Implications . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Targeting the Right Targets? The UN Use of Individual Sanctions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Wallensteen and Helena Grusell 7.1 The Rise of Smart Sanctions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.2 The Theory of Targeting Individuals . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.3 Eight Cases of UN Sanctions 2000–2009 . . . . . . . . . 7.4 Closeness to Power . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.5 Political Compliance: The Evidence . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.6 A Future for Individual Sanctions? . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Targeting Sanctions and Ending Armed Conflicts: First Steps Towards a New Research Agenda . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Wallensteen and Mikael Eriksson 8.1 Sanctions and Ending Conflict . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.2 A Note on Questions, Data, Definitions and Hypotheses . . . . 8.3 The Contemporary Literature on UN Targeted Sanctions . . . . 8.4 Sanctions and Armed Conflict Since the End of the Cold War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.4.1 Armed Conflict and the Use of UN Targeted Sanctions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.4.2 UN Targeted Sanctions and Type of Armed Conflict . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.4.3 UN Targeted Sanctions and the Phases and Intensity of Armed Conflict . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.4.4 UN Targeted Sanctions, Armed Conflicts and Conflict Resolution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.4.5 Sanctions and Unresolved Conflicts . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.5 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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C Developing Mediation 9

Going Ahead: Lessons for Mediation Theory and Practice . Peter Wallensteen and Isak Svensson 9.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.2 Mediation Mandate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.3 Mediation Outcome . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.4 Mediation Resources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Styles in International Mediation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.5.1 Scope: Inclusive or Exclusive . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.5.2 Method: Forcing or Fostering . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.5.3 Mode: Confidential or Open Mediation . . . . . . . . . 9.5.4 Focus: From Narrow to Wide Peace . . . . . . . . . . . Comparing Mediation Styles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ten Implications for Mediation Research and Mediation Practice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.7.1 First: Incorporate Learning into the Mediation Process . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.7.2 Second: Understand the Mandate . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.7.3 Third: Make Way for Specific Styles in Mediation . 9.7.4 Fourth: Assess the Humanitarian Aspect of Mediation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.7.5 Fifth: Focus on the Chances for Direct Dialogue . . 9.7.6 Sixth: Create Institutional Support for Mediation . . 9.7.7 Seventh: Be Alert to the Proliferation of Parties . . . 9.7.8 Eighth: Relate to Other Third Parties . . . . . . . . . . . 9.7.9 Ninth: Find a Way to Intra-Party Mediation . . . . . . 9.7.10 Tenth: Be Open to Different Outcomes and Exits . .

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10 Talking Peace: International Mediation in Armed Conflicts . Peter Wallensteen and Isak Svensson 10.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.2 Defining Mediation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.3 Mediation Data . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.4 Frequency of Mediation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.5 Strategies in Mediation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.6 Bias and Mediation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.7 Mediation Coordination . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.8 Mediation and Outcomes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.9 Challenges to Mediation Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Munich, Majors and Mediation . . . . . . . Peter Wallensteen 11.1 Challenges to Mediation . . . . . . . . . 11.2 Dealing with the Munich Syndrome . 11.3 Dealing with the Major Powers . . . . 11.4 A Final Note on Institution Building References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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D Organizing the World 12 Representing the World: A Security Council for the 21st Century . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Wallensteen 12.1 An Active Security Council . . . . . . . . . . . . 12.2 Legitimacy and Representation . . . . . . . . . 12.3 Senatorial Members and Qualified Majority 12.4 Is It Practical? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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13 International Conflict Resolution, UN and Regional Organizations. The Balance Sheet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Wallensteen 13.1 The Problem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13.2 Chapter VIII in the UN Charter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13.3 The Present Context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13.4 Regional Conflict and Regional Organizations . . . . . . . . . 13.5 Regional Approaches to Regional Conflicts . . . . . . . . . . . 13.6 Global Versus Regional Peacemaking: The Balance Sheet . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 The United Nations Security Council in State-Based Armed Conflicts, 2003–2012 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Wallensteen and Patrik Johansson 14.1 The Role of the Security Council in Armed Conflicts . . . . 14.2 The Powers of the Security Council . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14.2.1 Chapter VI Powers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14.2.2 Chapter VII Powers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14.2.3 The Choice of Chapter VI or Chapter VII Powers 14.3 State-Based Conflicts and Wars . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14.4 Conflicts with the Most and Least Attention . . . . . . . . . . . 14.5 Geographical Patterns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14.6 Veto Voting Patterns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14.7 Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Part III

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War

E Understanding Causes of War 15 Four Models of Major Power Politics: Geopolitik, Realpolitik, Idealpolitik and Kapitalpolitik . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Wallensteen 15.1 The System of States . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15.2 One Assumption and Four Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15.3 Three State Systems in 160 Years . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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16 Universalism Versus Particularism: On the Limits of Major Power Order . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Wallensteen 16.1 Universalism Versus Particularism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16.2 Identifying Universalism and Particularism . . . . . . . . . . . 16.3 Universalism and Particularism in Practice . . . . . . . . . . . 16.4 From Universalism to Particularism, and Vice-Versa . . . . 16.5 Limits of Major Power Universalism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 What’s in a War? Lessons from a Conflict Data Program Peter Wallensteen 17.1 The Importance of Understanding “War” . . . . . . . . . . 17.2 Who Defines War? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17.3 Peace Research and the War Definition . . . . . . . . . . . 17.4 Non-state and One-sided Conflicts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17.5 Conflict Trends and Peacemaking . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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F Preventing Violent Conflict 18 Dag Hammarskjöld and the Psychology of Conflict Diplomacy Peter Wallensteen 18.1 The Relevance of Dag Hammarskjöld . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18.2 Conflict Diplomacy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18.3 Hammarskjöld’s Record of Conflict Diplomacy . . . . . . . . . 18.3.1 Agenda Diplomacy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18.3.2 Agreement Diplomacy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18.3.3 Implementation Diplomacy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18.4 Success and Diplomatic Psychology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18.5 Special Features of Hammarskjöld’s Diplomacy . . . . . . . . . 18.5.1 Travel Diplomacy: Going to the Area of Conflict . . 18.5.2 Build on Mutual and Personal Trust . . . . . . . . . . . 18.5.3 Creating Diplomatic Leverage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18.5.4 Act Early, When Possible . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18.5.5 Coalition-Building . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18.5.6 Protect the Integrity of the Office of the Secretary General . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18.5.7 Multi-Arena Diplomacy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18.5.8 Hammarskjöld’s Risk-Taking . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18.5.9 Stamina and Simplicity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18.6 Conclusions for Diplomacy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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19 International Response to Crises of Democratization in War-Torn Societies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Wallensteen 19.1 The Post-War Situation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19.2 A Democratization Crisis: Uganda 2005 . . . . . . . 19.3 International Response: React or Not? . . . . . . . . 19.4 International Response: When? . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19.5 International Response: For How Long? . . . . . . . 19.6 International Reactions: By Which Means? . . . . 19.7 Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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20 Preventing Genocide: The International Response . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Wallensteen, Erik Melander, and Frida Möller 20.1 Genocide and Civil War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20.2 Peacekeeping and the Prevention of Genocide . . . . . . . . . . . 20.3 Preventive Diplomacy, War, and Genocide . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20.4 Targeted Sanctions and the Prevention of Genocide . . . . . . . 20.5 Success in Genocide Prevention? The Case of Côte d’Ivoire . 20.5.1 Genocide Danger in Côte d’Ivoire . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20.5.2 The International Response . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20.5.3 Côte d’Ivoire: The Route Away from Genocide? . . . 20.6 International Coherence and Genocide Prevention . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Part IV

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Peace

G Searching for Quality Peace 21 Peacebuilding, Victory and Quality Peace . . . . Peter Wallensteen 21.1 The Challenge of Peace After War . . . . . 21.2 Peacebuilding: A Conceptual History . . . . 21.3 Victory, World Order, and Quality Peace . 21.4 Perspectives on Peace After War . . . . . . .

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22 Conditions for Quality Peace: A Regional Approach Peter Wallensteen 22.1 Introducing Quality Peace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22.2 Quality Peace in the Regional Setting . . . . . . . . 22.3 Challenges from Recent History . . . . . . . . . . . . 22.4 Territorial Peace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22.4.1 General Findings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22.4.2 Territorial Peace in Europe . . . . . . . . . . 22.4.3 Territorial Peace and Democracy . . . . . .

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22.5 Democratic Peace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22.5.1 General Findings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22.5.2 Democracy and Peace in Europe . . . . . . 22.6 East Asia and Quality Peace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22.6.1 Territorial Armed Conflicts in East Asia 22.6.2 East Asia and Governmental Conflicts Between States . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22.7 The Realpolitik Alternative . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22.8 Lessons for Other Regions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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23 Developing Quality Peace: Moving Forward . . Peter Wallensteen and Madhav Joshi 23.1 Quality Peace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23.2 The Five Dimensions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23.3 Sequences and Weight of the Dimensions 23.4 Methodological Requirements . . . . . . . . . 23.5 Moving Forward . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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H Gendering Global Agendas 24 Resolution 1325 (2000): A Note on Its Background . . . Peter Wallensteen 24.1 Gender in the 1990s . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24.2 A Project on Gender and Peacekeeping Operations . 24.3 From Research Report to Action Plan . . . . . . . . . . 24.4 Comparing the Declaration and the Resolution . . . . 24.5 Concluding Observations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Alva Peter 25.1 25.2 25.3 25.4

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Myrdal’s Approach to International Disarmament . . . . . Wallensteen The Role of Alva Myrdal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Strand I: An Appeal to Economic Reason! . . . . . . . . . . . . Strand II: There Must Be Alternative Ways to Security! . . Strand III: Somebody Has to Listen, Find That Audience!

26 Gendering International Affairs . . . . . . . . . Peter Wallensteen 26.1 Gender and Peace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26.2 Toward Women’s Empowerment . . . . . 26.3 Gender Inequality and Armed Conflict . 26.4 Gendering International Analysis . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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27 Scarce Goods as Political Weapons: The Case of Food . . . . Peter Wallensteen 27.1 The Power of Economic Commodities . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27.2 American Grain Power . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27.2.1 Scarcity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27.2.2 Supply Concentration and Demand Dispersion . 27.2.3 Action Independence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27.3 Instruments of American Grain Power . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27.3.1 The Market and the Corporations . . . . . . . . . . 27.3.2 The Government and PL 480 . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27.4 Experiences of American Grain Power . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27.4.1 Objectives and Forms of Power . . . . . . . . . . . 27.4.2 The Reward Approach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27.4.3 The Punishment Approach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27.4.4 The Use of American Grain Power . . . . . . . . . 27.5 Remedies for American Grain Power . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27.5.1 Reduction of Scarcity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27.5.2 Reduction of Supply Concentration . . . . . . . . . 27.5.3 Reduction of Demand Dispersion . . . . . . . . . . 27.5.4 Reduction of American Action Independence . . 28 The Politics of Base Closing: Some Swedish Experiences Peter Wallensteen 28.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28.2 Narrowing Margins for Military Expenditure . . . . . . 28.3 The Politics of Base-Closure . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28.3.1 Contradictions in Defense Priorities . . . . . . . 28.3.2 Contradictions in Social Reform . . . . . . . . . 28.4 The 1973 Decision: Eliminate One, Add Another . . . 28.4.1 Uppsala-Enköping . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28.4.2 Arvidsjaur . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28.5 Lessons for Disarmament . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28.5.1 Economic Drawbacks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28.5.2 A Growing-Sum Game . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28.5.3 Political Power . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29 Disaster and Conflict: Conflict Formations in the Sahel and the Horn of Africa, 1971–1976 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Wallensteen 29.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29.1.1 One Problem and Three Models . . . . . . . . 29.1.2 One Set of Events . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29.1.3 Outline of the Contents . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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29.2 Methodological Considerations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29.2.1 Incompatibility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29.2.2 Drought Impact . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29.2.3 Conflict Behavior . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29.3 Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29.3.1 Drought and Conflict: Policy Implications . . . . 29.3.2 Disaster and Conflict: Implications for Conflict Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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30 International Freshwater Resources: Conflict or Cooperation? . Peter Wallensteen and Ashok Swain 30.1 Water: Its Importance and Availability . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30.2 Water Resources and International Conflicts . . . . . . . . . . . . 30.2.1 International Rivers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30.2.2 International River Disputes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30.2.3 Case Analyses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30.3 Searching for Ways to Share International Rivers . . . . . . . . 30.4 Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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J Acting for Peace—Academic Diplomacy 31 Strengths and Limits of Academic Diplomacy: of Bougainville . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Wallensteen 31.1 The Beginning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31.2 Entering the Conflict . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31.3 The Parties . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31.4 A Third Party Perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . 31.5 Secondary Parties . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31.6 The Agreement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31.7 Exit of a Third Party . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31.8 Lessons for Mediation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32 An Experiment in Academic Diplomacy . . . . Peter Wallensteen 32.1 The Invitation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32.2 The Setting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32.3 Experiment One: Creating Format . . . . . 32.4 Experiment Two: Finding Balance . . . . . 32.5 Experiment Three: Focusing Discussions 32.6 Experiment Four: Keeping Momentum . . 32.7 Learning Lessons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The Case

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Abbreviations

APEC APT ARF ASEAN AU BA BBC BITS BRA CADU CFE CHOGM CNRET COPDAB COW CPA CSO CTBT CWM DDR DHA DHF DPA DPCR DPKO DPRK DRC EAP

Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation ASEAN Plus Three ASEAN Regional Forum Association of Southeast Asian Nations African Union Bachelor of Arts British Broadcasting Corporation Swedish Agency for International Technical and Economic Cooperation Bougainville Revolutionary Army Chilalo Agricultural Development Unit (Asella, Ethiopia) Treaty on Conventional Armed Forces in Europe Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting Center for Natural Resources, Energy and Transport Conflict and Peace Database Correlates of War (project) Comprehensive Peace Agreement (Sudan) Civil Society Organization Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty Civil War Mediation (database) German Democratic Republic, East Germany UN Department of Humanitarian Affairs Dag Hammarskjöld Foundation (Uppsala) UN Department of Political Affairs Department of Peace and Conflict Research (Uppsala University) UN Department of Peace Keeping Operation Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (North Korea) Democratic Republic of Congo East Asian Peace (project)

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ECOWAS EEAS EIP EU FAO FFU FN G-20 G-7, G-8 GCC GPS H.M. HCNM IAEA IBRU ICAN ICB ICC ICJ ICM IGAD IGO INF IPCC IPPNW IPRA IPSP IRA IS, ISIL, ISIS, Da’ech ISA ISAF ITDM JCPOA JCR JPR LLU MA MBFR MID MILC NATO NPT

Abbreviations

Economic Community of West African States EU European External Action Service European Institute of Peace European Union Food and Agriculture Organization Committee on base closings (Sweden) Forces Nouvelles (Côte d’Ivoire) Group of Twenty Group of Seven, Group of Eight Gulf Cooperation Council Global Positioning System His/Her Majesty High Commissioner on National Minorities International Atomic Energy Agency International Boundaries Research Unit (Durham University) International Campaign Against Nuclear Weapons International Crisis Behavior (database) International Criminal Court International Court of Justice International Conflict Management (database) Intergovernmental Authority on Development International Governmental Organization Intermediate Nuclear Forces Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War International Peace Research Association International Panel on Social Progress Irish Republican Army Islamic State (of Iraq and the Levant/Syria) International Studies Association International Stabilization Force (Afghanistan) International Training for Dialogue and Mediation Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (on Iran’s nuclear program) Journal of Conflict Resolution Journal of Peace Research Lessons Learned Unit (UN) Master of Arts Mutual and Balanced Force Reductions Militarized Interstate Disputes (dataset) Managing Intrastate Low-Intensity Conflict (dataset) North Atlantic Treaty Organization Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty

Abbreviations

OAS OAU OCHA OECD/DAC OHR OIC OPEC OSCE PACS PAM Ph.D. PKK PLO PNG PRIO PRIS RFSI

RUF SAARC SADC SALT SCR SICA SIDA Sida SIPRI SPITS SPLA SRSG START TAPRI TPI TSC UCDP UF UK UKÄ UN UNCLOS UNDOF UNDP

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Organization of American States Organization of African Unity UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development/Development Assistance Committee Office of the High Representative (Bosnia-Herzegovina) Organization for Islamic Cooperation Organization of Petroleum-Exporting Countries Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe Peace and Conflict Studies (Uppsala University) Peace Accords Matrix (Kroc Institute, University of Notre Dame) Doctor of Philosophy Kurdistan Workers’ Party Palestine Liberation Organization Papua New Guinea Peace Research Institute, Oslo Peace Researchers in Sweden Rådet för freds- och säkerhetsskapande initiative (Council for Peace and Security Initiatives, Swedish Ministry for Foreign Affairs) Revolutionary United Front (Sierra Leone) South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation Southern African Development Community Strategic Arms Limitation Talks Security Council Resolution Central American Integration System Swedish International Development Authority Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency Stockholm International Peace Research Institute Special Program on International Targeted Sanctions Sudan People’s Liberation Army Special Representative of the Secretary-General (UN) Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty Tampere Peace Research Institute Third Party Intervention (database) Targeted Sanctions Consortium Uppsala Conflict Data Program Utrikespolitiska föreningen, Uppsala United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland Swedish Higher Education Authority United Nations UN Convention on the Law of the Sea UN Disengagement Observer Force (Golan Heights) UN Development Program

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UNEF UNEP UNHCR UNICEF UNITA UNMIL UNOCI UNOGIL UNSC US, USA USSR

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UN Emergency Force (Suez) UN Environmental Programme UN Refugee Agency UN Children’s Fund National Union for the Total Independence of Angola UN Mission in Liberia UN Operations in Côte d’Ivoire UN Observation Group in Lebanon UN Security Council United States of America Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (Soviet Union)

Part I

The Author

1 The Making of a Peace Researcher 2 Comprehensive Bibliography

Chapter 1

The Making of a Peace Researcher Peter Wallensteen

Abstract This chapter tells the story of how Peter Wallensteen became involved in peace research; the building of the Department of Peace and Conflict Research at Uppsala University, Uppsala, Sweden; and how this Department became internationally recognized. It also gives an account of some of his choices of research topics, notably his interest in economic sanctions.

1.1

Researching Peace

“Peace: What could be more worth investigating?” That is a typical reaction from people new to the concept when I introduce myself as a peace researcher. The question combines urgency and curiosity. Is it really possible to study peace? How can it be approached? In those questions peace is understood as a legitimate topic, based on the belief that scholarship can achieve changes of real significance in people’s lives. Very encouraging! But sometimes there is a completely different reaction: “Peace? That is not researchable. There are too many variables.” That was an actual response by a leading Swedish political scientist. The attitude conveys skepticism. Peace does not need special and serious study. It is something to wish for, but not something for academics to waste time pondering. Very discouraging! This book brings together half a century of my scholarly work and demonstrates that peace is a legitimate topic for study. It also illustrates what is required to categorize the relevant variables and definitions of the topic. Today we know more about the conditions that generate war and what is required to maintain peace with quality. Satisfying, but not sufficient! This volume consists of 32 chapters and articles. It covers scholarly publications in ten different areas of significance for peace research. There is no global peace to study but there are regional variations, specific relations and local experiences. This collection establishes that peace in all of its varieties is researchable and that progress has been made. Clearly, there is need for further inquiries. It is my hope that this anthology will stimulate much more research.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_1

3

4

1 The Making of a Peace Researcher

This introductory text aims to explain issues pertinent to my involvement in peace research and how this resulted in an entire, new, autonomous department for peace and conflict research at Uppsala University. It is personally rewarding that this is now a well-known and respected milieu within international academia as well as in the Swedish society. The key, in my view, is to nurture a self-sustaining, critical and constructive research environment, a truly positive milieu, focusing on research and striving to make peace achievable. For decision-makers research findings can provide alternative courses of action leading in directions other than confrontation, disorder and war. Peace has a future when all components have been identified, defined and acted upon. Researchers have an essential role.

1.2

Appreciating Cooperation

The articles and chapters in this book were written primarily by me; a few were done with colleagues with whom I have worked over the years. Good research does not take place in a vacuum. On the contrary, discussions and presentations of work in progress are important aspects of any research process. The climate for inspiring discussion is crucial. In my case it starts with my bright and supportive wife Lena and our smart daughters Hanna and Karin. We share a concern about the state of humankind and the need to contribute in whatever ways we can. Of paramount importance, of course, is a work environment that is receptive, critical and constructive. The Department of Peace and Conflict Research, DPCR, at Uppsala University was created with that purpose in mind. Over the years I have observed many other attempts at institution building at universities around the world. In many cases it has proven difficult to sustain such an environment beyond the efforts of the founding teams. One example is from the Department of Political Science at the University of Michigan, where I spent much of the period 1980–84. The research seminar around the Correlates of War project led by J. David Singer had the quality to become a vibrant operation. However, the lack of support from colleagues, and the university leadership’s disregard for Singer’s achievements and the project’s potential, ended its work in Ann Arbor, Michigan. For a total of fourteen semesters I worked at the Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies at the University of Notre Dame, USA (lecturing in the spring of 2001 and as a research professor in the autumn terms 2006–2018), benefitting from a strong research infrastructure and wonderful colleagues. However, I could also observe how difficult it was for the institute to make “strategic peacebuilding” a formula that could integrate the institute’s strengths in both the humanities and the social sciences. It is not easy to develop a research milieu with a coherent focus in a cross-disciplinary setting. Still it is worth trying. This volume can be seen as a testament to what I have learned in different academic environments around the world, where I have had an opportunity to do research and teach. Let me now present glimpses from my personal odyssey and highlight some factors that may have influenced my scholarly work.

1.3 Entering Uppsala University

1.3

5

Entering Uppsala University

As a high school student, I was interested in topics of global history, something I shared with my father Ivar Wallensteen, a high school teacher of history, religion and civics. I was intrigued by the fate of the Native Americans in the United States, who were concerned about the protection of their lands and cultures. When I was nine or ten years old I sent a drawing on this theme to my grandmother.

Peace Flag (‘Fred’ is Swedish for ‘Peace’).’ Drawing at the age of 10, sent to my grandmother Ester Wallensteen. Photo: From the .author’s personal photo collection

6

1 The Making of a Peace Researcher

After graduating from high school in the town of Västerås I moved to Uppsala. When entering Uppsala University as a student in 1964, however, I decided not to pursue history. Instead, as an aspiring journalist, I wanted to learn more about society and current affairs, starting with statistics. It was an eye-opening experience, both exciting and difficult, and had a lasting impact. It taught me the importance of facts. Also, grappling with probabilities made a lot of sense. It was stimulating to ask “under what conditions” would this or that happen? Conclusions had to rest on data, and pointed to the most important questions: What are the relevant data for a particular question (validity) and how can one ensure their quality? Political science initially appeared boring, as it seemed to deal with public administration, political power games and a focus almost exclusively on Sweden. However, I happened to come across a textbook that my girlfriend Lena was reading. It was a short book comparing, from a political perspective, constitutions from around the world. I enjoyed reading it and joined Lena when she went to take the written exam. I was allowed to take it as well, did fine and decided to continue in political science. At the department, housed in a building from the 17th century (Skytteanum), I paid particular attention to one teacher, Sven Hamrell, an expert on African affairs. He excelled at mixing his lectures with hard facts, anecdotes and entertaining observations. The independence of African states in the early 1960s generated considerable hope and Hamrell stimulated my interest in the continent at a time when Africa was in focus. For instance, the Nordic countries had recently set up the Nordic Africa Institute in Uppsala, Sida had opened a local office in the city and the university was already involved in projects in African countries. In high school I had been active in consumer boycotts against South Africa following the 1960 Sharpeville massacres. Thus, I also became interested in Southern Rhodesia, even writing about the situation there in a local newspaper. When I talked to Hamrell about my term paper topic, he was very clear: “Soon it is all going to blow up! You should write about the real thing!” referring to the imminent crisis in Rhodesia and advising against topics exploring Swedish political debates. I should focus on actual developments. That was the best advice I could get. I have repeated it to innumerable students throughout the years. Thus inspired I wrote a series of papers and articles on Rhodesia, the unilateral declaration of independence by the white minority government (1965) and the UN sanctions that followed (1966). Furthermore, Hamrell introduced me to an energetic researcher from Oslo visiting Uppsala, Johan Galtung, who was commissioned to do a study of the sanctions on Rhodesia. That encounter led me to peace research.

1.4

Discovering Peace Research

As was true for many youngsters, football (soccer) was a major interest of mine. I had one idol: the Hungarian player Ferenc Puskás, a star of his successful national team. In the autumn of 1956 I was, as always, reading the sports section of the daily

1.4 Discovering Peace Research

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newspaper. One day it was reported that Puskás had disappeared. The Soviet Union had invaded Hungary and met fierce armed resistance. Puskás was formally an officer in the Hungarian army. What had happened to him? It was worrying. Suddenly, international events were not only matters for Dag Hammarskjöld and the UN. It now affected me personally! I moved from reading the sports pages to international news. When I came to Uppsala some years later, it was obvious for me to join the student club dealing with international affairs: Utrikespolitiska föreningen, UF, the UN Student Association. After an evening lecture organized by UF on October 15, 1964, the rumor spread that Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev had been deposed. We discussed possible implications. A young woman, Lena Sahlin, was energetically participating. She and I decided to survey public reactions to the news, walking around downtown Uppsala interviewing ordinary people. But mostly we talked to each other. That continues to this day. UF was involved in an annual exchange with the Polish UN Student Association. In February 1967 a team from UF including Lena and me went to Poland. We were brought to the city of Lublin in eastern Poland and to a Nazi concentration camp called Majdanek – not one of the more notorious extermination sites. Entering into a badly lit barn we saw a huge area filled with shoes from executed Jews. There were also stacks of eyeglasses, suitcases and canes. Witnessing all this was hideous and a truly traumatic encounter. We thought we knew about the Holocaust but Majdanek was to us a testimony of organized evil. The scope and determination of the Nazi regime became concrete and terrifying.

The Shoes in Majdanek, in the 1960s. Photo: With permission of the State Museum at Majdanek

8

1 The Making of a Peace Researcher

With Majdanek in our minds Lena and I went to the Peace Research Institute in Oslo, PRIO, on the invitation of its dynamic leader, Johan Galtung. He appreciated my work on the Rhodesia sanctions and wanted me to join a project on the effectiveness of sanctions in general. Thanks to a scholarship from the Swedish-Norwegian Friendship Association we could stay at Voksenåsen, Norway’s national gift to Sweden for its assistance during the Nazi occupation. In the spring of 1967 PRIO was a vibrant place. Galtung was lecturing once or twice a week to audiences of young people from many parts of the world. There were lively seminars and constant discussions. For me this became a turning point. The horrors of Majdanek and the dangers of the nuclear arms race were countered by PRIO’s expression of hope. Peace must be attainable. Research could play a role. Actions needed to be based on facts, figures and evidence. Returning to Uppsala, I involved myself in a seminar for peace studies, organized by Kursverksamheten (The Extramural Board) at Uppsala University. It had been set up by a fellow student, Bo Wirmark, who had even recruited the Vice Chancellor, Torgny Segerstedt, to the board. At the same time I continued to research different aspects of international economic sanctions. This resulted in a dissertation in political science for the Swedish degree of licentiate; I defended it in late 1968. My Ph.D. dissertation, which reversed the problem and dealt with international economic dependencies, was presented in 1973.

1.5

Grasping University Affairs

On February 24, 1968, Lena and I were married in an idyllic place called Rättvik. It was −23 °C with plenty of snow. However, rather than a honeymoon in a warmer climate we returned to Uppsala, where we soon were busy formulating an undergraduate program of teaching in development studies. In 1968, the Swedish Parliament (Riksdagen) had devised the ambitious target of allotting 1% of the Swedish GDP to foreign aid. We saw the need for training in this new field. In 1970 sociologist Bo Schiller, Lena and I began the first academic training program in the country devoted to development studies. Although, at the time, many regarded this as a short-lived “one-semester event,” the program still endures 50 years later. During the spring semester of 1971 the three of us went on a mission through East and Southern Africa to study experiences of a variety of development projects to prepare teaching materials for our course.

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With Bo Schiller (left) interviewing farmers in Adeli village, Harar, on agricultural development in Ethiopia, 1971. Photo: From the author’s personal photo collection

While we were away, the Faculty Board of the Social Sciences decided that development studies should be a part of political science, i.e., the Department of Government – contrary to our vision of an interdisciplinary self-reliant center. Our objections made no impact. This decision taught me a valuable lesson for my other concern, finding a space for peace research. I believed that peace studies definitely should be a topic for the university, but with full autonomy in order to retain its inter-disciplinary character. This became an issue later the same year as the national government’s budget included one junior research position (forskarassistent) for peace studies at each of the universities in Uppsala, Göteborg and Lund. Should these positions be included in existing departments or become separate endeavors, which, in my view, was crucial for the survival of this nascent activity? In December 1971 Peace and Conflict Research was created as an independent unit (avdelning) within the Faculty of Social Sciences at Uppsala University. Burned by the fate of development studies, I understood the need to form alliances within the university’s governing bodies and worked hard at this. Now peace research existed as a small, separate body at Uppsala University. In 1972 I was appointed to be a non-tenured assistant professor and also selected to be the head of the unit. Peace research was established, although not in an

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administratively robust situation. University funds for the new unit were limited, and the unit was dependent on outside grants and undergraduate courses. Much of my work in the 1970s was devoted to securing resources, expanding the program and explaining peace research to the general public. I also spent considerable time talking to a variety of political party organizations, peace associations, religious bodies such as the (Lutheran) Church of Sweden, student groups and Rotary clubs, as well as making presentations to Nordic peace research conferences and a range of media. My focus was often on the dangers of nuclear war, the potentials for disarmament, the opportunities for practical peace initiatives and the importance of peace research.

1.6

Becoming Dag Hammarskjöld Professor

In time for the national Swedish elections in 1979 I was instrumental in gaining support for university-based peace research from parliamentarians representing four of the five political parties in the Parliament. This resulted in a statement by the Parliament to the Government urging more support for our unit, as well as for one that had been created at the University of Göteborg, also in 1971, focusing on development research and led by Björn Hettne. Both units were functioning successfully with popular undergraduate programs and significant external research funding. Their track records were convincing to the Minister of Education, Jan-Erik Wikström (The Liberals, called Folkpartiet at the time). He requested the Swedish Higher Education Authority, UKÄ, to submit a plan for developing peace research within the universities. When it was presented in 1980, UKÄ proposed a chair in Göteborg to be followed by one in Uppsala. That triggered a parliamentarian from Uppsala, Jörgen Ullenhag, to make his own motion to the Parliament. This resulted, in 1981, in a unanimous decision by the Parliament to establish a chair in peace research in Uppsala named after the late UN Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjöld, who had grown up in the city. Simultaneously, it was a way to commemorate the 20th anniversary of his death in Ndola, Zambia, in September 1961. Thus, Uppsala secured the first chair in peace and conflict research, while Göteborg followed later. Little did I realize that this decision would unleash a fierce four-year struggle over peace research at Uppsala University. The leadership of the political science department was convinced that the chair with such a prestigious name ought to be part of its discipline. I feared that by subsuming peace research under political science, peace research might meet the same fate as development studies and not get a proper chance to thrive. My colleagues and I were not alone. Many in academia, the media and civil society embraced the idea of an independent university department. The battle became a public one. It contained disappointments, but also positive surprises. International colleagues followed the deliberations with astonishment. Many were highly supportive, notably academics like Johan Galtung, Raimo Väyrynen and J. David Singer. The publicity in newspapers, radio and TV was

1.6 Becoming Dag Hammarskjöld Professor

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difficult to handle. For a period, Lena, our two daughters and I left Sweden as I had been offered a position at the University of Michigan (1981–82, 1984). Gradually, however, the idea of an independent peace research department gained support. In January 1985, after a proper appointment process, the Minister of Education Lena Hjelm-Wallén (The Social Democrats) appointed me as the first holder of the Dag Hammarskjöld Chair. I was installed as a professor at a solemn ceremony in November the same year. Remarkably, resistance by political scientists at Uppsala University continued, this time in an effort to block the creation of a doctoral program in peace and conflict research. Nevertheless, the Faculty Board decided to create such a Ph.D. program. Thus, by January 1986, the Department of Peace and Conflict Research was a full-fledged new department, with allocations of funds in the same way as all other departments. The vision had become a reality. In May 1987, as a confirmation of the department’s status, I was asked to act as the conferrer (promotor) at the annual university conferment ceremony for new doctors. I was allowed to nominate one honorary doctor; my choice was Johan Galtung. Thus, twenty years after my formative experience at PRIO, I could place a laurel wreath on his head.

Conferring the insignia for honorary doctor to Johan Galtung, Uppsala, May 1987. From the author’s personal photo collection

In the years that followed I combined the Dag Hammarskjöld Chair with the task of Head of Department (prefekt). It was a most intensive period with constant workweeks of more than 60 hours, and only rarely any vacation. Still it was an exciting period as it involved establishing a department in all its facets: hiring

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teachers and staff, starting new courses (on average a new one every year during the 1990s), teaching at all levels, supervising all the Ph.D. candidates and monitoring the department’s budget (well handled by Anna Norrman Hedenmark). Many of these concerns I shared with Kjell-Åke Nordquist, Deputy Head of Department for many years and ultimately my successor as the head of department. I have always believed in the importance of reaching out to those who could be interested in our work. Almost on a weekly basis I gave presentations to one organization or another, be it a local political association, Rotary club, church group, student association or business entity. It was also important to meet with officials in government ministries in Stockholm or be interviewed by the media. Swedish taxpayers had the right to know how their money was being spent. At the same time I was engaged in numerous efforts to find more suitable department premises. Ultimately, in 1993 the DPCR moved into the location where it remains, Gamla Torget 3. In the evenings, I was often the last person to leave the office, finishing the day by walking the corridors to check that everything was in order.

1.7

Globalizing the Department

The decisions in 1985 made the Department of Peace and Conflict Research an equal, self-governing institution within Uppsala University, with cross-disciplinary recruitment of faculty and students. During the 1990s I led the work to develop the Masters and Ph.D. programs, supported by creative minds and effective administrators who gradually took over these tasks (notably Mats Hammarström and Thomas Ohlson). Our programs emphasized methodological training and scholarship as the foundation, not only for our research and teaching but also for our ability to make a difference and play a role in society. It is important that our graduates have a solid training either in quantitative or qualitative methods. The first graduates of the Ph.D. program defended their dissertations in 1992 and the first woman graduated in 1998. By 2020 close to 60 students have received a Ph.D. in peace and conflict research, with an equal number of men and women.

1.7 Globalizing the Department

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Dr. Liana Lopes, Professor Thomas Ohlson and Lena Wallensteen, at the wedding of Crown Princess Victoria and Prince Daniel, Stockholm 2010. Thomas Ohlson and I were the Department’s principal teachers for Her Royal Highness. Photo: From the author’s personal photo collection

The Masters and Bachelor programs have been continuously evaluated and refined. Today they are taught entirely in English and, thus, they are open for international exchange. The ambition to internationalize teaching already existed by the 1990s, but the EU-driven Bologna process made this a reality in the early 2000s. The quality of teaching and the dedication of our teachers explain the great attraction of these programs for students, nationally as well as internationally. To receive international visibility also meant that faculty and students needed to develop academic networks. Results from the department’s research had to be disseminated and gain respect within the wider scholarly community. Initially, the Nordic peace research conferences and the International Peace Research Association, IPRA, served such a purpose. Later, I encouraged our young researchers to attend the annual conventions of the International Studies Association, ISA, as this organization emerged in the 1990s as the global academic community where peace studies played a significant role. To present papers and participate in international conferences and conventions quickly became a standard component of graduate training. My ambition was that our milieu would not only be strong methodologically and thematically, but would also contribute internationally. This objective was reflected in a number of ways. One was to organize international training programs in

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Uppsala, i.e., intensive education for persons in the Global South with university degrees and in decision-making positions who wanted to learn about peaceful conflict resolution based on current research. A first attempt took place in 1987. Beginning in 1988 this program, known as PACS, was funded by Swedish development aid (initially by BITS, the Swedish Agency for International Technical and Economic Cooperation, in 1995 merging into Sida). Conflict analysis and resolution, mediation and peacemaking were important components of the program. It continues today but in a consolidated version (originally it lasted for six weeks, today ten days), with new acronyms (e.g., ITDM) and partners (presently the Dag Hammarskjöld Foundation). It has resulted in a vast international network of alumni, and helped to inspire peace research activities around the world (e.g., in Penang, Malaysia; Varanasi, India; and Guatemala City, Guatemala). One of the most enthusiastic lecturers at these courses has been the former UN Deputy Secretary-General and former Swedish Foreign Minister, Ambassador Jan Eliasson, a regular contributor and advocate. Participants from outside the Global South were, for instance, J. Ann Tickner, later an inspiration for feminist peace research; and H.R.H. Crown Princess Victoria of Sweden, who received her BA with a major in Peace Studies from Uppsala University in 2009.

Lena and I with Crown Princess Victoria at the informal celebration of her degree, in the Department, 2009. Photo: Marie Allansson with permission

Other international events were the “executive seminars” that I organized during the 1990s. These were biannual events of 2–3 days dealing with politically relevant topics in which DPCR had expertise (notably conflict analysis, early warning, and conflict prevention). Participants were leading international researchers and

1.7 Globalizing the Department

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decision-makers in foreign policy, development affairs and security matters. One of these workshops actually led to the well-known UN Security Council Resolution 1325. Particularly close to my heart was involvement in what I have termed “academic diplomacy,” that is, participating as an academic in the actual settlement of armed conflicts. It highlights that peace research is not only about peace, it also engages itself for peace. For instance, the PACS programs had participants who were eager to find peaceful solutions to conflicts in their home countries. Some of them expected that as committed researchers we would contribute to actual peace processes. The first such experience was in Bougainville, Papua New Guinea, in 1990. It was followed by a number of other such assignments, notably with respect to conflicts concerning Palestine, Cambodia, Nagorno-Karabakh, East Timor and Cyprus. In many of these, Kjell-Åke Nordquist was a close associate. In these situations we operated under strict conditions of confidentiality, but some of these stories can now be told and two are included in this volume. My dedication to these activities continues.

1.8

Developing the Uppsala Conflict Data Program, UCDP

A particular effort of mine was the creation of the Uppsala Conflict Data Program, UCDP, which maps and analyzes armed conflicts throughout the world since the end of the Second World War. It began as a small-scale operation in 1978, based on news reports by the BBC World Service collected by G. Ken Wilson, later joined by Adéle Aranki Nassar. In 1979 J. David Singer was intrigued by this work and invited me to spend time as a Visiting Assistant Professor at the University of Michigan. Our conversations were highly inspiring and gave me significant insights into how to develop a continuous global survey of armed conflicts. Further encouragement emerged from my involvement with the Carter Center in Atlanta, Georgia, which for a period also published UCDP data. From 1987 UCDP conflict data were regularly presented in the SIPRI Yearbook (an arrangement that lasted 30 years). Since 1993 there is a publication agreement with the Journal of Peace Research (originally initiated through its long-time editor Nils Petter Gleditsch). A close cooperation with Andy Mack led also to the inclusion of human security dimensions into UCDP.

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Meeting J. David Singer in Uppsala, summer of 1979. Photo: With permission from Diane Macauley’s personal photo collection

I am proud to note that UCDP has achieved a central role in conflict studies. Its definitions have become the global standard for measuring armed conflict activities as well as peace efforts. Although I ended my term as Head of Department in 1999, I continued to serve as the Director of UCDP until 2015. Particularly important to me and the program was to secure sustained funding. Finally, after international evaluations (calling UCDP a potential “flagship” for Uppsala University) and parliamentary support, Uppsala University decided in 2009 to take responsibility for core funding. It was a great moment as it meant that UCDP would have long-term financing without any strings attached and, thus, would not be dependent on government or other external funding. This independence is important for the credibility of its data. UCDP is continuously evolving, for example, in the early 2010s moving into the labor-intensive work of geo-referencing all conflict events, something made possible by new technical resources such as GPS and Google Maps. Thus, UCDP now operates a large database that is updated regularly. It serves as a global resource not only for research and teaching, but also for the media and public discussions.

1.9

Taking on Public Service Assignments

At times I have been asked to participate in public service assignments or commissions dealing with specific international problems. Accepting such invitations was a way to make peace research more known and useful.

1.9 Taking on Public Service Assignments

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The first such assignment was from Sida in 1973 and concerned the international evaluation of a major rural development project in Ethiopia (CADU, the Chilalo Agricultural Development Unit), headquartered south of Addis Ababa and spread across the whole country. As the social scientist in the commission I was asked to be the secretary and thus, in fact, formulated the final report. I had just finished my Ph.D. dissertation, defended it on December 8, 1973, and departed Sweden before New Year for two intensive months in Ethiopia. The commission studied documents, visited different sites all over the country and conducted numerous interviews. The evaluation demonstrated that CADU was a well run, integrated rural development project, introducing new agricultural techniques through model farmers, who acquired new seeds and fertilizers through a generous credit system. However, one crucial factor was not considered: the Ethiopian land tenure system. Seldom did the farmers own their lands. They were tenants, often also belonging to the marginalized Oromo population, running the risk of being evicted, when the landowners saw the new ways of increasing production. This was carefully documented and our report stressed the importance of land reform. It strengthened the need for a policy change that many in the Ethiopian elite were already considering. In fact, it was among the issues that precipitated the revolution of 1974. A second assignment focused on the use of sanctions by the UN Security Council. In view of the many reported negative effects of the sanctions on Iraq during the 1990s, there was a need to refine this significant instrument available under the UN Charter. Switzerland, with its experiences of money laundering, had promoted a new type of sanctions: targeting financial assets of particular individuals. Inspired by this, Germany initiated studies on arms embargoes and travel sanctions. Targeting individuals, commodities and special economic sectors replaced the comprehensive sanctions of the 1990s. Sweden wanted to make a contribution and the Ministry for Foreign Affairs asked me to chair what became the Stockholm Process for the Implementation of Targeted Sanctions. This initiative received the blessing of the UN Security Council in November 2001 following a presentation by the Swedish State Secretary for Foreign Affairs, Hans Dahlgren. The process was directed from the Department at Uppsala University, where also Mikael Eriksson and Carina Staibano were part of the team. I recruited the participants, while the Ministry assisted by securing participation of committed diplomats from the Security Council member-states. Thus, all 15 incumbent Council members were represented among the 37 participating states. In addition, I involved researchers in the field, for instance, from the Kroc Institute at the University of Notre Dame and the Watson Institute at Brown University, the two leading centers for sanctions research at that time. Other experts came, for instance, from the Sanctions Branch of the UN Secretariat and from agencies for banking, customs controls and air traffic. It was particularly important also to involve representatives from civil society organizations dealing with humanitarian affairs and human rights. My plan for the Stockholm Process included a special working group on the issue of human rights. Targeted sanctions meant identifying and naming individuals and there had to be

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due consideration for their human rights. There would always be a danger of false accusations and it was important, therefore, to scrutinize the Security Council’s motives for freezing assets in all banks in the world for particular individuals or banning persons from getting a visa to enter another country. However, on the day of the first meeting, in Uppsala in February 2002, I was approached by the US delegation who delivered an ultimatum: If there is a working group on human rights, the United States would not participate in the Stockholm Process! They argued that a concern for human rights would weaken the struggle against terrorism. After the September 11 attacks the US was committed to the strongest possible measures against terrorism, including sanctions. If alleged terrorists could appeal their designations, that could be seen as weakening of the counter-terrorist measures. I later learned that the State Department had convened an emergency meeting when officials had observed my inclusion of human rights. Thus, what the diplomats conveyed was US policy. To underscore this, the leader of the American delegation reiterated this position in the first session that followed. This led the principal Russian delegate to make a resounding speech emphasizing the importance of human rights in general, and specially with regard to targeted sanctions. Obviously, without US participation other states would lose interest and the Stockholm Process risked becoming irrelevant. Consultations with the Swedish Ministry for Foreign Affairs led to the creation of a separate channel, consisting of EU member-states, devoted entirely to sanctions and human rights. As a result, human rights continued to be a disputed topic between EU and the US for the remainder of the Bush administration. Only with the assent of the Obama administration did the US, in 2009, agree to a limited human rights regime for UN sanctions – including a Swedish-style ombudsperson. In all other regards, the Stockholm Process followed the path I had outlined, e.g., dealing with the capacity of the UN Secretariat and individual states to implement sanctions and finding ways to improve the clarity and accuracy of sanctions. Thus, in a roundabout way, human rights crept into the proceedings, as the Security Council would have to clarify why sanctions were imposed on particular individuals, so that they would understand how to change their behavior. The final report was presented to the UN Security Council in New York on February 25, 2003. It received the full endorsement of the member-states and in the following months many of the proposals were implemented in the UN. The report was also presented to the EU Commission in Brussels, as EU had its own sanctions, so-called restrictive measures, often imposed on countries that violated democracy and human rights. To sum up: In less than 15 months an internationally agreed document was produced on how to refine sanctions. It definitely helped to improve the use of targeted sanctions. Neither the UN nor the EU has resorted to the old type of comprehensive sanctions trying to seal off a country entirely from international interactions. Historically this had not proved to be a successful approach. Targeted sanctions bring home the message that certain individuals are responsible for a particular, internationally rejected policy, and thus represent a step towards a more sophisticated use of nonviolent power in international affairs.

1.9 Taking on Public Service Assignments

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A third example is The International Panel on Social Progress, IPSP, initiated in 2015 by Nobel laureate Amartya Sen and housed at Princeton University. It was a remarkable effort to produce a shared report involving some 300 social scientists from around the world covering a vast range of topics, notably economics, governance, culture, religion, education, media and health. I was asked, along with leading French sociologist Michel Wieviorka, President of the Fondation de la Maison des Sciences de l’Homme in Paris, FMSH, to chair the section on violence and conflicts. Together we coordinated 14 researchers with cultural and methodological differences to produce a 45-page report on violence, war, peace and security. We agreed on major trends and challenges, ending with a cautious note on conflict and violence with a clear warning: “In particular the dangers arising from social inequalities within and between societies constitute a recurrent factor in analyses of cause of conflicts, wars, one-sided violence, and terrorism” and that “a global agenda for lessening inequalities and increasing social integration would have the benefit of reducing violence over the long term as well as constituting social progress in itself, by incorporating universal respect for human dignity.” IPSP could be regarded as a social science response to the successful work of natural scientists in the award-winning Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, IPCC. However, there are notable differences. IPCC actually includes governments, thus, IPCC has a stronger political connection than IPSP. Furthermore, the climate change researchers seem to have fewer methodological or epistemological disagreements than we have in the social sciences. In addition, social sciences deal with societies that might change quicker and more intentionally than does “nature” where effects might be slower but more predictable. Two national assignments are also worth mentioning. In 2003–2007 the government appointed me as a member of the Board of the National Museums of Defense History, which included both the Army and the Air Force Museums. They had administratively been moved from the Ministry of Defense to the Ministry of Culture, which also meant that their mission was not only patriotic but also to present the consequences of war for human beings and society. A second government appointment was to serve as a member of the Advisory Council for the Folke Bernadotte Academy. This government body under the Ministry for Foreign Affairs is not primarily devoted to the legacy of Count Bernadotte – the UN Mediator for Palestine, assassinated in 1948 – but to promote training and study of conflict prevention, peacekeeping and peacebuilding. In both assignments a peace researcher could make a real contribution.

1.10

Understanding Conflict Resolution

As mentioned I stepped down from the position as Head of Department in 1999, having served for 27 years. This was definitely a longer period than I had anticipated and involved many more aspects than I ever imagined: establishing teaching programs, developing research projects, dealing with budgeting and fundraising,

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attending to student affairs, representing peace research within as well as outside the university, etc. This was all highly stimulating, but not what I had expected. Now freed from these administrative duties, I could engage more in what a holder of the Dag Hammarskjöld Chair should do: scholarly writing. One result was the textbook Understanding Conflict Resolution, first published in 2002, now in its fifth edition. It is used globally and has been translated into several languages, notably Arabic and Korean. This book stresses the importance and reasons for the collection of conflict data and, consequently, uses data from UCDP to demonstrate how armed conflicts could be solved. Conflict data is not only a tool for mapping conflict trends or understanding the causes of conflicts and their escalation. The UCDP definition of conflict contains the disagreement between the warring parties, thus yielding evidence on what a particular conflict is all about, that is, the incompatibility. This was one of the major topics in my conversations with J. David Singer during my time in Ann Arbor, Michigan: Was it possible to systematically assess the parties’ disagreements in a reliable manner and thus identify conceivable ways of solving conflicts? Singer did not agree with me on either the necessity of doing this or the possibility of doing it in a rigorous way. It resulted in an unforgettable suggestion: “Well Peter, if you don’t like what I am doing, do your own thing!” This really encouraged me to focus on the parties’ incompatibilities and, with the help of the inventive Ph.D. candidate Birger Heldt, they became central to the UCDP definition. Data, as well as the book, demonstrate that conflicts can be solved.

1.11

Connecting to the World

I constantly endeavored to make the DPCR a valued partner and respected international milieu. Some achievements demonstrate that. One example is the agreement between the department and the Nordic Africa Institute in Uppsala (at the time led by Lennart Wohlgemuth) to establish a visiting chair for scholars concerned with contemporary African affairs. The chair was named after Professor Claude Ake, a brilliant scholar from Nigeria and frequent lecturer at the PACS program, who died in a plane crash in Nigeria in 1996. Almost every year since 2002 a leading Africanist has stayed for a period of time at the department.

1.11

Connecting to the World

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Walk in Gamla Uppsala, May 2007, from left: Lena Wallensteen, Kofi Annan, me and Nane Annan. Photo: From the author’s personal photo collection

It has been a particular pleasure to have a chance to nominate high-level honorary doctors. Several prominent personalities have come to Uppsala for the solemn award ceremony, notably J. Ann Tickner, Bruce M. Russett, Jan Eliasson, Tor Sellström and I. William Zartman. A very special event took place in 2007 in connection with the celebration of the 300th anniversary of the birth of Carl Linnaeus, the renowned botanist from Uppsala. Kofi Annan had just stepped down as the UN Secretary-General, and came to receive his honorary doctorate at the same time as the doctor’s degree was conferred on several young peace researchers. Bringing international personalities to Uppsala has been an important concern of mine as it highlights the university internationally and connects faculty and students with the world. Thus, the DPCR has seen a number of visiting scholars through different programs and stays for a semester or more. During the 1990s these included professors Richard Falk, Johan Galtung, Hayward Alker, Michael Stohl, Ted Robert Gurr and Barbara Harff.

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After the conferment ceremony, Uppsala, 2007, from left: Louise Olsson, Isak Svensson, Kofi Annan, Desirée Nilsson and me. Photo: From the author’s personal photo collection

António Guterres, UN Secretary-General, answering questions after the annual Dag Hammarskjöld Lecture, Uppsala Castle, April 2018, moderated by me. Photo: Mikael Wallerstedt, Dag Hammarskjöld Foundation/Uppsala Universitet 2018 with permission

1.11

Connecting to the World

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Since the mid-1990s there has also been a special cooperative relation between Uppsala University and the Uppsala-based Dag Hammarskjöld Foundation, DHF, a collaboration that was logical as I held the Dag Hammarskjöld Chair. Director Olle Nordberg and I launched the idea of an annual Dag Hammarskjöld lecture. Since then every UN Secretary-General has visited Uppsala to lay a wreath at Hammarskjöld’s grave and deliver a public lecture on pertinent issues concerning the United Nations. Other relevant personalities who came to Uppsala for the same reason include Helen Clark, New Zealand; Tarja Halonen, Finland; and Mamphela Ramphele, South Africa. A particular goal has been to secure visits by Nobel peace prize laureates. The Nobel prizes are awarded on December 10 at a ceremony in Stockholm – except the Peace Prize, which, in accordance with Alfred Nobel’s will, is handed out by a committee of the Norwegian Parliament (Stortinget) in the Oslo Town Hall. Lena and I have appreciated the generous invitations from the Committee to be present at these events in Oslo. Since Stockholm houses the headquarters of the Nobel Foundation the peace laureates also visit Sweden in connection with the prize ceremony. It has been possible to bring some of them to Uppsala to be part of a public discussion, for instance, Jimmy Carter (2002), Mohamed ElBaradei of IAEA (2005), Leymah Gbowee and Tawakkol Karman (2011), the Tunisian National Dialogue Quartet (2015) and Beatrice Fihn of ICAN (2017). In 2010 Rotary International wanted to establish a new Rotary Peace Center having closed down the one located at the University of California, Berkeley. The Department of Peace and Conflict Research applied to become such a center (as did a hundred other universities) and it was awarded to Uppsala in 2011, a confirmation of the department’s high qualities. One of the Rotary evaluators remarked that the DPCR “put the bar very high” while another commented that parts of the literature used by the contenders actually were from Uppsala, “so why not go to the original source?” Up and running since 2012, the Center is a training program at the Masters level for young fellows from around the world. Rotary contributes scholarships for 20 students every year. The Center has had strong support from Uppsala’s Rotary clubs from the very beginning and thus connects the department both to the world and to the local community. Another outreach activity of relevance for the local community derives from a suggestion I made to Uppsala City Council to commemorate the year 2014 when Sweden had experienced 200 years without war. As a result the city declared 2014 a Year of Peace with cultural activities relating to different aspects of peace occurring every month. I became particularly involved with the local Regina Theatre and its energetic leader Paul Kessel. Our activity, Philosophy Tea, still continues with consistent support from Uppsala University. Tea and scones are served while a colleague from the humanities, Daniel Ogden, and I discuss leading thinkers, ranging from Ibn Khaldun and Niccolo Machiavelli to Eleanor Roosevelt and Arundhati Roy, in front of a diverse audience.

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A specialty of student life at Uppsala University are the “nations” to which most students belong – 13 self-governing and unique social clubs, named after different provinces in Sweden. They are democratic organizations run by students for students, but a professor is elected by the members as inspector of each nation (thus connecting the nations to the university). In 2016 I was elected to play this role for the Västmanlands-Dala nation with 5,000 members – a position which was first held by a professor in 1663. This gives me a chance to highlight global issues to students who come from a variety of backgrounds and disciplines. A concern that is shared by peace research and the rest of Uppsala University is, of course, human rights and academic freedom. Thus, when a former Vice Chancellor, Martin H:son Holmdahl, asked me to chair a university committee on human rights (named after him), I was happy to accept. This committee, with representation from all faculties as well as students annually awards a grant to a student, teacher or alumnus who has made significant contributions to human rights in Sweden or internationally. It is gratifying to hand out this award to brave and innovative personalities.

With the Holmdahl laureates 2019, from left: Lars Burman (Chief Librarian, committee member); Afaf Doleeb, M.A. student working for human rights in Sudan; Dr. Patricia Lorenzoni, researcher at the Centre for Multidisciplinary Studies on Racism; and me (committee chair), at conferment ceremony, Uppsala University, January 2020. Photo: from the author’s personal photo collection

1.12

1.12

Experiencing Other Universities

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Experiencing Other Universities

Although Uppsala University has been, and still is, my primary affiliation and commitment, working in an international setting is, of course, also natural for me as a peace researcher. Hence, I have lectured for extended periods at other universities. In 1991, Lena, our daughter Karin and I spent a term in Penang, Malaysia, where I taught a course and supported the creation of a peace research unit at University Sains Malaysia (working with Johan Saravanamuttu). In 1993 I taught for a semester in the peace studies program at the University of California, Irvine (invited by Keith Nelson), and Yale University in the fall of 1999 (arranged by Bruce Russett). Similarly, I gave a course at the University of Canterbury, Christchurch, New Zealand, in the autumn 2001 (invited by Jacob Bercovitch and meeting for the first time Karl DeRouen), and in 2004–05 at the University of Queensland in Brisbane, Australia (hosted by Kevin Clements, sharing office room with Daniel Druckman). At times I returned to Uppsala earlier than Lena, as she had her own assignments. Of course, these encounters have taught us not only how different universities are organized but also the variety of challenges that peace research must meet. In 2005, I accepted an offer from R. Scott Appleby, Director of the Joan B. Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies at the University of Notre Dame, USA, to take up the newly created position as the Richard G. Starmann Sr. Research Professor. In the years 2006–2018 I spent every autumn semester at the Kroc Institute with Lena who was hired as a professional specialist dealing with administrative development and international education. The institute was starting a Ph.D. program and I was part of the process, working with Robert Johansen. Once it was running I became one of the teachers for the foundation course for the new Ph.D. candidates. I was also pleased to be able to share experiences from UCDP when assisting the institute to develop its own database for mapping the implementation of peace agreements, an effort initiated by John Darby. The Ph.D. program is now well-established and the institute’s Peace Accords Matrix (PAM) is an international resource, also for current peace processes, notably in Colombia. During my time at the Kroc Institute I was able to elaborate on the idea of “quality peace,” working closely with several of the PAM-affiliated researchers (Madhav Joshi and Pat Regan, but at times also Christian Davenport and Erik Melander). In the 1990s, the Kroc Institute was well known to me not only because Raimo Väyrynen, its director at that time, was an old friend, but also because it was at the forefront in research regarding targeted, smart sanctions. Kroc researchers David Cortright and George Lopez both participated in the Stockholm Process. Now the institute is embarking on a promising new path in mediation research (pursued by Laurie Nathan). When, upon my retirement from the Kroc Institute in 2018, I was asked to be a member of the institute’s Advisory Board, I was happy to maintain the connection.

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1 The Making of a Peace Researcher

Characterizing My Research

In 2012, when I reached the age of 67, by Swedish law I had to retire from the Dag Hammarskjöld Chair. I was succeeded by Håvard Hegre (from PRIO), whose research on predictions of armed conflicts builds on achievements by department researchers, notably UCDP. Since then I have been Senior Professor of Peace and Conflict Research at Uppsala University and, consequently, I am still involved in teaching, research and outreach activities. It has been quite a journey. My hope is that this volume will inspire current and future peace researchers. The 32 articles and chapters included here show a consistent structure that appeared already in my first academic publication “Characteristics of Economic Sanctions” in the Journal of Peace Research in 1968, when I was 23 years old. It was a condensed version of my licentiate thesis, A Study of Economic Sanctions. This early study demonstrates certain consistent traits. It clearly states a puzzling problem, develops a framework, and proceeds to collect all relevant information using specified definitions and distinct operational standards. Then follows a test of hypotheses, mostly explicitly identified. My articles or chapters often connect to earlier academic writings and public debates, add new reflections and finish with academic conclusions and policy implications. They are intended to be methodical, predictable, understandable and convincing. There is seldom an “I” in my writings. The reader will not find anything personal about me except the bare minimum: title; year of birth; a thank-you note to colleagues or friends who have been particularly helpful, including funders; and my workplace. Similarly the focus is on substance rather than elegance or polemics. If a text appears critical of works by others, that is not a goal in itself, but a way to move scholarship forward. The purpose is to contribute to the accumulation of knowledge. In a way all insights are preliminary and the process continues. That should be the essence of scholarly “re-search.” I have always cherished exploring new angles on existing scholarship, notably by adding the peace dimension. That can be observed already in my first work on economic sanctions. They were not seen as another instrument of power but as a non-violent way of dealing with a conflict that might otherwise escalate to war. Typically my work on sanctions triggered an interest in reversing the problem: What happens if countries are economically dependent? Does that affect wars, interventions and civil wars? That was the topic of my Ph.D. dissertation defended in the Department of Government (i.e., political science) at Uppsala University in December 1973: Structure and War: On International Relations 1920–1968. With simple indicators it showed the hierarchical nature of global affairs. All states were interdependent, still some had more independence than others: the “topdogs.” One of the surprising findings was that leading “liberal” powers had never fought a war between themselves. This is something Bruce Russett and his colleagues later

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referred to when he and others demonstrated that democracies have a historical and statistical record of not fighting wars among themselves. Both of these earliest academic works used statistics to demonstrate correlations that were more than random. However, understanding connections requires a reading of recent history, insights from anthropology and political science, and theories from sociology and economics. Using lessons from many disciplines always plays a role. Quantitative analysis needs to be combined with qualitative insights.

Discussing my portrait with the artist Jekaterina Pertoft at my retirement, in the department, Uppsala, autumn 2012. Photo; Christofer Hägg with permission

Certainly all my inquiries demonstrate a concern for peace, peaceful solutions and peaceful ways of solving conflicts. However, this focus does not result in utopian or simplistic normative thinking, but leads to a thorough search for what can be known – globally as well as historically. The global concentration of power is a more or less constant theme, but I also want to demonstrate that history is not just an endless series of major wars; there are developments and achievements that improve the human condition. Science has contributed to this and peace research can learn from advances, for instance, in medicine, technology or nutrition to establish a solid basis for what creates a peace that goes beyond a world order governed by major powers. With the term “quality peace” I have tried to integrate firm insights accumulated over many decades on the conditions for peace within and between states.

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It is noticeable that my academic writings are characterized by restraint, partly because English is not my mother tongue. I try to make my work concrete, without metaphors and unnecessary drama. Facts and figures do the talking. I hope that this book will stimulate further research and that it shows that peace is not only researchable but also achievable. Uppsala, August 2020 Peter Wallensteen Box 1.1: Family Parents: Ivar and Margareta Wallensteen. Wife (since 1968): Lena Wallensteen, currently Director, Diplomatic Forum, which offers seminars to the international diplomatic corps in Stockholm – after a career as Director of internationalization of higher education and Director of international training programs. Daughters: Hanna Wallensteen, Licensed Psychologist, PsykologPerspektiv AB, Stockholm. Son-in-law Niclas Holm, Digital Advisor, Läkare utan gränser (MSF, Doctors without Borders), Stockholm. Children Etta, Morris, Tage and Holly. Karin Wallensteen, diplomat and State Secretary (foreign affairs), the Prime Minister’s Office, Stockholm. Son-in-law David Wallensteen Bergknut, Human Resource Manager, Ericsson, Stockholm. Children Aron and Nina.

Box 1.2: Awards received James A. Burns, C.S.C. Award, University of Notre Dame, USA, 2019. Torgny Segerstedt Medal, Uppsala University, 2019. Peace Studies Section’s Distinguished Scholar Award, International Studies Association, 2016. The FUF Annual Award, FUF, Föreningen för Utvecklingsfrågo (The Swedish Development Forum), 2014. H.M. The King’s Medal 2014, 8th size, for distinguished contributions in the field of peace and conflict research, 2014. The Eldh-Ekblad’s Peace Prize, Svenska Freds- och Skiljedomsföreningen (The Swedish Peace and Arbitration Society), 2013. 2013 Lewis F. Richardson Lifetime Achievement Award, Conflict Research Society (CRS), 2013. J. David Singer Data Innovation Award, APSA, American Political Science Association, Conflict Processes Section, 2013.

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Uppsala University Rudbeck Medal, Uppsala University, for outstanding service, 2012. Lijphart/Przeworski/Verba Data Set Award, APSA, American Political Science Association, Comparative Politics Section, 2011. Silver Medal, SFHM, Sveriges försvarshistoriska museer (The National Board of Military History), 2007. Uppsala City Council Medal, 2007.

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Chapter 2

Comprehensive Bibliography of Peter Wallensteen Peter Wallensteen

Abstract The more than 50 books written or edited by Peter Wallensteen, as well as the 250 articles and chapters he has published in academic works are listed in reverse chronological order.

2.1

Books, Monographs, Edited Works, Major Reports

51. Understanding Conflict Resolution, London: Sage, Fifth edition. Reworked and with three new Chapters (cf. publication 37 below), 2019, 424 pages. 50. Understanding Quality Peace. Peacebuilding After Civil War. Edited by Madhav Joshi and Peter Wallensteen, 2018. London: Routledge. 17 chapters, two by the editors. 49. Fredens diplomater. Nordisk medling från Bernadotte till Ahtisaari. 2016 [The Diplomats of Peace. Nordic Mediation from Bernadotte to Ahtisaari]. Stockholm: Santérus förlag, 270 pages, together with Isak Svensson. 48. Quality Peace: Peacebuilding, Victory and World Order. New York: Oxford University Press 2015, 250 pages.

This comprehensive bibliography of my academic writings covers all entries until August 2020 and is arranged in reverse chronological order. © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_2

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47. Regional Organizations in Peacemaking. Challengers to the UN? Edited volume, with Anders Bjurner, 270 pages. London: Routledge, 2015. 46. Peace Research: Theory and Practice, London: Routledge, 2011, 278 pages. Includes 5 new chapters and republication of 13 articles and book chapters. Chinese translation published by Peking University Press 2014. 45. The Go-Between. Jan Eliasson and the Styles of Mediation, Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press, 169 pages, with Isak Svensson, 2010. 44. A New Start for EU Peacemaking? Past Record and Future Potential. Uppsala University: Uppsala Conflict Data Program, Report No 7. By Emma Johansson, Joakim Kreutz, Peter Wallensteen, Christian Altpeter, Sara Lindberg, Mathilda Lindgren and Ausra Padskocimaite, 71 pages. 2010. 43. Third Parties and Conflict Prevention. 2008. Gidlunds, edited with Anders Mellbourn. 240 pages. Fifth volume in the Anna Lindh Programme on Conflict Prevention. 42. Mot fred i det europeiska rummet? Konflikttrender i Europa, Mellanöstern, Afrika och Centralasien, 1989–2003 (Towards Peace in the European Space? Conflict Trends in Europe, the Middle East, Africa and Central Asia, 1989– 2003, with Frida Möller). 2005. KBM:s Temaserie 2005:12, Krisberedskapsmyndigheten, Stockholm, 68 pages

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41. International Sanctions. Between words and wars in the global system. 2005. Edited (with Carina Staibano), New York, London: Routledge/Frank Cass. 256 p. 40. Peacekeeping Operations: Global Patterns of Intervention and Success, 1948– 2004. 2006. Second edition. (first in 2004). Research Report No 1, Folke Bernadotte Academy Publications, with Birger Heldt. 62 p. Also published as ‘Operaciones de mantenimiento de la paz: pautas globales de intervención y éxito, 1948–2000’ in Maria Cristina Rosas 2005 (ed), Las operaciones de mantenimiento de la paz de las Naciones Unidas: lecciones para México, Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, México. 39. Alva Myrdal in International Affairs, 2003. Editor with own contribution. Uppsala Publishing House, Uppsala, 83 p. 38. Making Targeted Sanctions Effective. Guidelines for the Implementation of UN Policy Options. Report from The Stockholm Process with Carina Staibano and Mikael Eriksson, Presented to the UN Security Council, Febraury 2003. Uppsala 2003, 147 p. 37. Understanding Conflict Resolution: War, Peace and the Global System, London: Sage, 2002, 320 p. Second edition 2007, 311 p. Third Edition, 2012, 338 p. Fourth Edition, 2015, 336 p. Fifth edition reworked, see 51. First edition translated into Arabic, with new epilogue published by The Academic Center for Political Studies, Amman, Jordan, 2006, 436 p. Third edition, translated into Korean, 2015, with special preface by PW.

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36. Conflict Prevention and Development Co-operation, Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research, 2001 with Birger Heldt, Mary B. Anderson, Steven J. Stedman and Leonard Wantchekon, ca 50 p. 35. Preventing Violent Conflicts: Past Record and Future Challenges, Report No 48, Department of Peace and Conflict Research, 1998 (editor with own contribution). 34. Regionalism and Ethnicity: Third World Perspectives on Conflict Resolution. Report from the Advanced International Program Conflict Resolution, (ed) with Kjell-Åke Nordquist and Göran, Lindgren, Uppsala 1998, 302 p. 33. International Intervention: New Norms in the Post-cold War Era? Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University, 1997, (ed) 149 p. 32. International Fresh Water Resources: Conflict or Cooperation? Stockholm Environment Institute, Stockholm 1997 with Ashok Swain. 31. Sweden at the UN. Swedish Institute, Stockholm 1996, in Swedish: Svenskar i FN, Svenska institutet, Stockholm, 1997, updated in 2001. 30. The Cambodian Conflict: From Intervention to Resolution 1979–1991. Penang 1996, (ed) with Ramses Amer and Johan Saravanamuttu. 29. Dag Hammarskjöld. Swedish Portraits. Swedish Institute, 43 p, Stockholm 1995. Also in Swedish, German, French, Spanish. Updated 2004. Also in Russian, Portuguese, Arabic, Armenian. See http://www.stiftelsendaghammars kjoldbiblioteket.se/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/Famous-Swedes-Dag-Hamma rskjold.pdf.

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28. Från krig till fred. Om konfliktlösning i det globala systemet (From War to Peace. On Conflict Resolution in the Global System), Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1994, 326 p. 27. Towards a Security Community in the Baltic Region. Baltic University, Uppsala, by Wallensteen, Peter, Kjell-Åke Nordquist, Björn Hagelin and Erik Melander 1994. New ed 1995. Updated 2001 by Claes Levinsson and Witold Maciejewski. 26. Experiences from Conflict Resolution in the Third World. Report from the 1992 Advanced International Programme, Conflict Resolution, (ed) with Göran Lindgren, Kjell-Åke Nordquist. 25. Norden, Europe and the Near Future. Report from the Directors of Nordic Peace Research Institutes, PRIO Report, Oslo, June 1991, No 3 with B. Hettne, J. Käkönen, S. Lodgaard and Håkan Wiberg, 47 p. In Danish: Norden ved Skillevejen, Copenhagen: Fremad, 1991. 24. Peace Process in the Third World. Report from the 1991 Advanced International Programme, Conflict Resolution, Uppsala 1991 (ed) with Göran Lindgren, Kjell-Åke Nordquist.

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23. Cambodian Workshop on Reconstruction and Development. Proceedings. 1991. Unit for Peace Research and Education. School of Social Sciences, University Science Malaysia, Penang, Malaysia. 22. Peace Research in Finland. Report to the Academy of Finland Research Council for the Social Sciences, Helsinki, Finland, 1990 (44 p), by the international evaluation team, chaired by PW.

21. Third World Dimensions in Conflict Resolution. Report from the 1989 Advanced International Programme Conflict Resolution, Uppsala 1989 (ed) with Göran Lindgren. 20. States in Armed Conflict 1988. Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University, 1989, 72 p (ed). 19. Peace Research: Achievements and Challenges, Westview Press, Boulder, Colorado 1988, 275 p (ed, own contribution). 18. Food, Development and Conflict: Thailand and the Philippines, Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University, 1988, 382 p (ed). 17. Towards Conflict Resolution in the Third World, Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University, 299 p (ed) with Göran Lindgren. 16. Vem har ansvaret? Om samhället, forskarna och forskningens betydelse (Who’s responsible? On society, researchers and the importance of science), Svenska Pugwash-gruppen, Uppsala, 1986, 35 p (ed).

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15. Global Militarization, Westview Press, Boulder, Co, 1985, 240 p, (ed) with Johan Galtung and Carlos Portales, with own contribution. 14. Dilemmas of Economic Coercion. Sanctions in World Politics, Praeger Special Studies, New York 1983, 250 p (ed) with Miroslav Nincic, with own contribution. 13. Problems of the Nuclear Weapons Freeze, ed special section of Bulletin of Peace Proposals, 1982:3. 12. Causes of War, Special issue of Journal of Peace Research, 1981:1, 101 p (ed) with Klaus Jürgen Gantzel, with own contribution 11. New Wine and Old Bottles. Product versus Organization: Swedish Experiences in changing from Military to Civilian Production with Olof Frensborg, Uppsala 1980, 54 p. 10. Weapon Against Apartheid? The UN Arms Embargo on South Africa, Uppsala 1979, 67 p (ed). 9. Experiences in Disarmament. On Conversion of Military Industry and Closing of Military Bases, Uppsala 1978, 194 p (ed), with own contribution. 8. Emerging Trends in Development Theory, SAREC, Stockholm 1978, 77 p with Björn Hettne. 7. Är svensk neutralitet möjlig? Nio bidrag till en svensk fredspolitik (Is Swedish Neutrality Possible? Nine Contributions to a Swedish, Policy of Peace), Stockholm, 1977, 184 p (ed).

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6. Final Report on the Appraisal of CADU and EPID-MPP, Evaluation of a rural development project in Ethiopia, official commission appointed by SIDA (Sweden) and Ethiopia, 1974, Prof. Guy Hunter chair, Peter Wallensteen, principal secretary. 5. The Nordic System: Structure and Change, 1920–1970, Tampere/Uppsala 1973, 126 p with Unto Vesa and Raimo Väyrynen. 4. Structure and War: On International Relations, 1920–1968, Rabén & Sjögren, Stockholm 1973, 266 p (dissertaton for Ph.D. degree). 3. Ekonomiska sanktioner (Economic Sanctions), Prisma, Stockholm 1971, 202 p. 2. International Sanctions: Theory and Practice, Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala 1969, 123 p (ed). 1. A Study of Economic Sanctions, Institute of Political Science, Uppsala, 1968, 151 p (dissertation for fil.lic.-exam).

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Articles in Scholarly Books and Journals

(other than newspapers, newsletters, booklets, introductions, prefaces, etc.). 2019–2020 250. Peter Wallensteen 2020. “Today’s Challenges to International Peace and Secuirty: Searching for Quality in International Affairs” in J. Martin Ramires, Jerzy Biziewski (eds) A Shift in the Security Paradigm. Global Challenges: Is Europe Ready to Meet Them?, Springer, 109–118. 249. Peter Wallensteen 2019. “Academic Dialogue for Peace”, Development Dialogue, 2019: 124–133. 248. Peter Wallensteen 2019. “Global Conflict, Autonomous Agreements and the Challenge of Quality Peace” in A K M Abdur Rahman (ed) 2019. Bangladesh in International Peacebuilding. Discourses from Japan and Beyond. Dhaka, Bangladesh: Pathak Shamabesh, pp. 61–76.

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2017–2018 247. Peter Wallensteen, Michel Wieviorka (coordinating lead authors, with 11 lead authors: Itty Abraham, Karin Aggestam, Alexander Bellamy, Lars-Erik Cederman, Jerome Ferret, Jean Baptiste Jeangene Vilmer, Willhelm Heitmeyer, Angela Muvumba Sellström, Laurie Nathan, Hideaki Shinoda, Ekaterina Stepanova, and one contributing author: Olga Odgers Ortiz) 2018. “Violence, War, Peace, Security”, Chapter 10 in Rethinking Society for the 21st Century, Report of the International Panel on Social Progress, Vol. 2, Cambridge University Press, pp. 411–456. https://www.ipsp.org/ipsp-on-theweb. 246. Peter Wallensteen and Madhav Joshi 2018. “Developing quality peace: Moving forward” in Understanding Quality Peace. Peacebuilding After Civil War. Edited by Madhav Joshi and Peter Wallensteen, 2018. London: Routledge, pp. 277–284. 245. Madhav Joshi and Peter Wallensteen 2018. “Understanding Quality Peace. Introducing the Five Dimension”, in Understanding Quality Peace. Peacebuilding After Civil War. Edited by Madhav Joshi and Peter Wallensteen, 2018. London: Routledge, pp. 3–25. 244. Daniel Druckman and Peter Wallensteen 2017. ‘Summit Meetings: Good or Bad?,’ Global Summitry Vol. 2, pp. 71–92. https://doi.org/10.1093/global/ gux001. 243. Peter Wallensteen 2017. ‘Wars, Civil Wars and Armed Conflict: Patterns, Trends and Analytic Paradigms.’ In States and Peoples in Conflict. Transformations of Conflict Studies, edited by Michael Stohl, Mark I. Lichbach, Peter Nils Grabosky. New York and London: Routledge, pp. 253– 271. 2015–2016 242. Peter Wallensteen 2016. ‘Munich, Majors and Mediation’, in Ian Macduff (ed). Essays on Mediation. Dealing with Disputes in the 21st Century. AH Alphen aan den Rijn: Kluwer Law International, pp. 81–89. 241. Peter Wallensteen 2016. Konfliktdata. Om nyttan av systematiska studier av krig och fred. [Conflict Data. On the Use of Systematic Studies of War and Peace]. Jenny Björkman och Arne Jarric (red). Krig fred.RJ:s årsbok 2016/ 2017, Göteborg: Makadam förlag, ss. 113–122. 240. Isak Svensson and Peter Wallensteen 2016. When do we mediate? Global trends in armed conflict and peace mediation. Background paper to the 2016 Oslo Forum Network of Mediators, 14–15 June, Oslo: HdCentre and Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, pp. 40–47. 239. Peter Wallensteen 2016. ‘Institutional Learning in targeting sanctions’, in Targeted Sanctions: The Impact and Effectiveness of UN Action, edited by Thomas J. Biersteker, Sue E. Eckert and Marcos Tourinho, Cambridge University Press, pp. 248–264.

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238. Peter Wallensteen 2015. ‘70 anos de la ONU: es tiempo de traerla de vuelta!’ [The UN at 70: Time to Bring It Back In!] in Mexico y las operaciones de mantenimiento de la paz de las Naciones Unidas en el siglo XXI: Retos y oportunidades, ed. by Maria Cristina Rosas, Mexico, D.F., pp. 261–270 237. Mikael Eriksson and Peter Wallensteen 2015. Targeted sanctions and ending armed conflicts: first steps towards a new research agenda. International Affairs. Vol. 91 (6): 1387–1398. 236. Peter Wallensteen and Patrik Johansson 2015. The UN Security Council: Decisions and Actions. In Sebastian von Einsiedel, David M. Malone and Bruno Stagno Ugarte (eds) The UN Security Council in the 21st Century, Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, pp. 27–54. 235. Peter Wallensteen 2015. Comparing Conditions for Quality Peace, International Security Studies, Social Sciences Academic Press (China), Beijing, Vol. 1 (1): 59–76. Also in Chinese. 234. Therése Pettersson and Peter Wallensteen, 2015. Armed Conflicts, 1946– 2014. Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 52 (4): 536–550. 233. Margareta Sollenberg and Peter Wallensteen 2015. ‘Patterns of organized violence, 2004–13,’ SIPRI Yearbook 2015: Armaments, Disarmament and International Security, Oxford University Press, pp. 122–146. 2013–2014 232. Peter Wallensteen 2014. ‘Parallel Sovereignty: Dividing and Sharing Core State Functions,’ in Mark LeVine and Mathias Mossberg (eds). One Land. Two States. Israel and Palestine as Parallel States, University of California Press, pp. 44–67. 231. Peter Wallensteen 2014. Uppsala konfliktdataprogram 35 år - från nattliga radioinspelning till sekundsnabb nerladdning [Uppsala Conflict Data Program 35 Years – From Nightly Recordings to Downloads in Seconds] i Bolkéus Blom, Mattias och Lars Magnusson (red) Samhällsvetenskapliga fakulteten vid Uppsala universitet 50 år, 1964–2014. Uppsala: Uppsala universitet, s 39– 52. 230. Peter Wallensteen and Patrik Johansson 2014. The United Nations Security Council in state-based armed conflicts, 2003–12. SIPRI Yearbook 2014: Armaments, Disarmament and International Security, Oxford University Press, pp. 56–69. 229. Lotta Themnér and Peter Wallensteen 2014. Patterns of organized violence, 2003–12, SIPRI Yearbook 2014: Armaments, Disarmament and International Security, Oxford University Press, pp. 70–92. 228. Anders Bjurner and Peter Wallensteen 2015. The future relations of the UN and the regional organizations, in Wallensteen and Bjurner, op.cit. (No 47, above), pp. 239–245. 227. Peter Wallensteen 2015. International conflict resolution, UN and regional organizations: the balance sheet, in Wallensteen and Bjurner op.cit. (No 47, above), pp. 13–27.

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226. Peter Wallensteen and Anders Bjurner 2015. The challenge of regional organizations: an introduction, in Wallensteen and Bjurner op.cit. (No 47, above), pp. 1–10. 225. Lotta Themnér and Peter Wallensteen 2014. Armed Conflicts 1946–2013. Journal of Peace Research. Vol 51 (4): 541–554. 224. Peter Wallensteen 2014. Dag Hammarskjöld’s Diplomacy: lessons learned, in Carsten Stahn and Henning Melber (eds). Peace Diplomacy, Global Justice and International Agency. Rethinking Human Security and Ethics in the Spirit of Dag Hammarskjöld. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, pp. 364–386. 223. Peter Wallensteen 2014. Theoretical Developments in Understanding the Origins of Civil War, in Edward Newman and Karl DeRouen, Jr. (eds) Routledge Handbook of Civil Wars, Routledge, Chapter 2, pp. 13–27. 222. Peter Wallensteen and Isak Svensson 2014. Talking peace: International mediation in armed conflicts. Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 51 (2): 315– 327. 221. Regan, Patrick and Peter Wallensteen 2013. Federal Institutions, Declarations of Independence and Civil War. Civil Wars, 15 (3): 261–280. 220. Wallensteen, Peter 2013. J. David Singer and Systems Theory in Today’s World, pp. 260–265 in Geller, Daniel S. and Paul F. Diehl (eds). The Forum: Reflections and Reassessments on the Early Work and Ideas of J. David Singer, International Studies Review 15: 259–284. 219. Themnér, Lotta and Peter Wallensteen 2013. Armed conflict, 1946–2012. Journal of Peace Research. Vol. 50 (4): 509–521. 218. Themnér, Lotta and Peter Wallensteen 2013. Patterns of organized violence, 2002–2011. SIPRI Yearbook 2013. Oxford University Press, Chapter 1.III. 2011–2012 217. Wallensteen, Peter 2012. Regional Peacebuilding: A New Challenge, New Routes (Life and Peace Institute). Vol. 17 (4): 3–5. 216. Wallensteen, Peter, Erik Melander and Stina Högbladh 2012. Peace agreements, justice and durable peace, in Karin Aggestam and Annika Björkdahl, eds. Rethinking Peacebuilding. The Quest for Just Peace in the Middle East and the Western Balkans. London: Routledge pp. 125–139. 215. Themnér, Lotta and Peter Wallensteen 2012. ‘Armed conflict, 1946–2011.’ Journal of Peace Research. Vol. 49 (4): 565–575. 214. Themnér, Lotta and Peter Wallensteen 2012. Patterns of organized violence 2001–10. SIPRI Yearbook 2012, Oxford University Press, Ch 2.3. 213. Baumann, Jonas, Marcus Nilsson, Lotta Themnér and Peter Wallensteen, ‘Organized Violence in the Horn of Africa’, SIPRI Yearbook 2012, Oxford University Press, Ch 2.2.

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212. Allansson, Marie, Jonas Baumann, Samuel Taub, Lotta Themnér and Peter Wallensteen 2012. ‘The First Year of the Arab Spring’ SIPRI Yearbook 2012, Oxford University Press, Ch 2.1. 211. Kjellén, Bo and Peter Wallensteen 2012. Climate Change, Peacekeeping and Perspectives on UN reform, in Jurgen Scheffran et al. (eds) Climate Change, Human Security and Violent Conflict. Challenges to Societal Stability, Springer Press, pp. 685–694. 210. Wallensteen, Peter, Erik Melander and Frida Möller 2012. ‘The International Community Response’, in I. William Zartman, Mark Anstey and Paul Meertz (eds) The Slippery Slop to Genocide. Reducing Identity Conflicts and Preventing Mass Murder, Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press, pp. 280–305. 209. Wallensteen, Peter and Helena Grusell. 2012. Targeting the Right Targets? The UN Use of Individual Sanctions. Global Governance 18 (2): 207–230. 208. Wallensteen, Peter 2012. What’s in a War? Lessons from a Conflict Data Program, in Mary Ellen O’Connell (ed) What Is War? An Investigation in the Wake of 9/11. Leiden, Boston: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers, pp. 261–272. 207. Wallensteen, Peter 2012. Future Directions in the Scientific Study of Peace and War, in Vasquez, John A: (ed) What Do We Know about War? Second Edition. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers, pp. 257–270. 206. Wallensteen, Peter 2011. ‘Academic Diplomacy: The Role of Non–Decision Makers in Peacemaking’, in Susan Allen Nan, Zachariah Cherian Mampilly, and Andrea Bartoli (eds), Peacemaking: From Practice to Theory. ABC-Clio, pp. 738–769. 205. Wallensteen, Peter 2011. ‘Sanctions in Africa: International Resolve and Prevention of Conflict Escalation’ in Thomas Ohlson (ed) From Intra-State War to Durable Peace: Conflict and Its Resolution in Africa after the Cold War, Dordrech: Republic of Letters Publishing. 204. Wallensteen, Peter 2011. Rektor Hallberg och fredsforskningen vid Uppsala universitet, i Det goda universitetet. Festskrift till Anders Hallberg, Uppsala universitet, pp. 97–101. 203. Wallensteen, Peter 2011. ‘El 11 de septiembre de 2011 y la solucion de conflictos,’ in Maria Cristina Rosas (ed), Terrorismo, democracia y seguridad: 11 de septiembre: diez anos después, México, DF: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, pp. 135–142. 202. Themnér, Lotta and Peter Wallensteen 2011. ‘Armed conflict, 1946–2010.’ Journal of Peace Research. Vol. 48 (4): 525–536. 201. Themnér, Lotta and Peter Wallensteen 2011. ‘Patterns of major armed conflicts 2001–10’ in SIPRI Yearbook 2011. Armaments, Disarmament and International Security. Appendix 2 A, Oxford University Press 2011, pp. 61– 76. 200. Wallensteen, Peter 2011. ‘Leave it to Dag!’ Special Issue of Dag Hammarskjöld. New Routes. Uppsala: Life and Peace Institute. Vol. 16 (2): 17–20.

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199. Wallensteen, Peter 2011. ‘The Origins of Contemporary Peace Research’, in Höglund, Kristine and Magnus Öberg (eds) 2011. Understanding Peace Research. Methods and Challenges. London and New York: Routledge, pp. 14–32. 198. Möller, Frida, Karl DeRouen, Jr, Jacob Bercovitch and Peter Wallensteen. 2011. ‘The Limits of Peace: Third Parties in Civil Wars in Southeast Asia, 1993–2004.’ In Bercovitch, Jacob and Karl DeRouen, Jr (eds) Unraveling Internal Conflicts in East Asia and the Pacific. Lanham: Lexington Books, pp. 47–65. 2009–2010 197. Wallensteen, Peter 2010. ‘An Experiment in Academic Diplomacy’ in Johansen, J. et al. (eds) Experiments in Peace: A Book Celebrating Peace at Johan Galtung’s 80th Anniversary, Fahamu Books (English translation and revised version of No. 177). Also in Peter Wallensteen 2011. Peace Research: Theory and Practice, London: Routledge, pp. 254–262. 196. Wallensteen, Peter 2010. ‘The UN between P1, G2 and a New Global Society’, in Klackenberg, Dag (ed) En diplomatins hantverkare. Vänbok till Jan Eliasson [A Craftsman of Diplomacy. Festschrift to Jan Eliasson], Stockholm: Atlantis, pp. 133–147. Also in Peter Wallensteen 2011. Peace Research: Theory and Practice, London: Routledge, pp. 93–101. 195. Lindgren, Mathilda, Helena Grusell and Peter Wallensteen 2011. Meeting the New Challenges to International Mediation. Report from an international symposium. Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research. Uppsala Conflict Data Program Paper No 6, 37 pages. 194. Wallensteen, Peter. 2010. ‘Sanctions, Positive’ in Nigel Young (ed) The Oxford International Encyclopedia of Peace, Oxford University Press. 193. Harbom, Lotta and Peter Wallensteen, 2010. “Armed Conflicts, 1946–2009”. Journal of Peace Research, Vol 47: 501–509. 192. Harbom, Lotta and Peter Wallensteen, 2010. “Patterns of Major Armed Conflicts, 2000–2009, SIPRI Yearbook 2010, Appendix 2 A. 191. Wallensteen, Peter. 2010. ‘Nuclear Weapons and Peace’. Läkare mot kärnvapen Special issue on Nuclear Weapons and Non-Proliferation. No 1 (also in Swedish). 190. Wallensteen, Peter. 2010. “Strategic Peacebuilding: Concepts and Challenges” in Daniel Philpott and Gerard F. Powers (eds), Strategies of Peace, Oxford University Press, pp. 45–64. 189. Wallensteen, Peter and Mikael Eriksson, 2009. Negotiating Peace: Lessons from Three Comprehensive Peace Agreements New York, Uppsala Mediation Support Unit, 37p. 188. Wallensteen, Peter. 2009. “The Evolving Field of International Mediation.” Development Dialogue, 53:27–31.

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187. DeRouen Jr, Karl, Jenna Lea, and Peter Wallensteen 2009.’The Duration of Civil War Peace Agreements’, Conflict Management and Peace Science 26 (4): 367–387. 186. Wallensteen, Peter, Karl DeRouen, Jr., Jacob Bercovitch and Frida Möller.2009. ‘Democracy and Mediation in Territorial Civil Wars in Southeast Asia and the South Pacific’. Asia Europe Journal 7 (2): 241—264. 185. Harbom, Lotta and Peter Wallensteen 2009. “Patterns of major armed conflicts, 1998–2008”, SIPRI Yearbook 2009, Appendix 2 A. 184. Harbom, Lotta and Peter Wallensteen 2009. ‘Armed Conflict, 1946–2008’ Journal of Peace Research, 46 (4): 577–587. 183. Wallensteen, Peter. 2009. ‘The Strengths and Limits of Academic Diplomacy: The Case of Bougainville’, in Aggestam, K and B. Järnek (eds) Diplomacy in Theory and Practice, Essays in honor of Christer Jönsson, Liber: Malmö. 258–281. Also in Peter Wallensteen 2011. Peace Research: Theory and Practice, London: Routledge, pp. 238–253. 182. Öberg, Magnus, Frida Möller and Peter Wallensteen, 2009. “Early Conflict Prevention in Ethnic Crises, 1990–98: A New Dataset”. Conflict Management and Peace Science, 26 (1): 67–91. 2007–2008 181. Wallensteen, Peter, ‘Seminariet som akademisk diplomati’, [Academic Diplomacy for Conflict Resolution] i Falkman, Kaj et al. (ed) 2008. Plikten och äventyret. Upplevelse av diplomati [Duty and Adventure. Experiences in Diplomacy]. Stockholm: Carlssons, pp. 247–256. 180. Wallensteen Peter och Frida Möller (2008) “Svensk forskning kan förebygga väpnade konflikter” Tvärsnitt, Nr 3, ss 18–21. 179. Sollenberg, Margareta, and Peter Wallensteen (2008) “How to identify conflict trends: A reply to Øyvind Østerud”, Conflict, Security & Development 8(3): 375–382. 178. Harbom, Lotta, Erik Melander and Peter Wallensteen 2008. ‘Dyadic Dimensions of Armed Conflict, 1946–2007’, Journal of Peace Research 2008, vol. 45 (5): 697–710. 177. Ahrnens, Annette 2007. A Quest for Legitimacy. Debating UN Security Council Rules on Terrorism and Non-proliferation. Literature Review, Statsvetenskaplig Tidskrift 2008 Vol. 89. No 2, pp. 225–27. 176. Generalsekreteraren Hammarskjöld. Personliga erfarenheter och reflektioner. Sture Linnér och Sverker Åström. 2007 års Dag Hammarskjöldföreläsningar. ed. with Henning Melber, Uppsala universitet: Department of Peace and Conflict Research 2008, also available in English: UN Secretary-General Hammarskjöld. Reflections and Personal Experiences. 2007 Dag Hammarskjöld Lecture, ed with Henning Melber, the Dag Hammarskjöld Foundation, Uppsala. 175. ‘Patterns of major armed conflicts, 1998–2007’, SIPRI Yearbook 2008, pp. 72–86. Oxford University Press (with Lotta Harbom, Uppsala Conflict Data Program).

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174. ‘International Response to Crises of Democratization in War-Torn Societies’, in Jarstad, Anna K. and Timothy D. Sisk (eds) 2008. From War to Democracy. Dilemmas of Peacebuilding, Cambridge University Press, pp. 213–38. 173. ‘Save the Arms Embargo!’ Policy Brief 14. 2008, Joan B. Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies, University of Notre Dame, 4p. 172. Wallensteen, Peter 2008. Global Governance and the Future of United Nations’, in Hettne, Björn (ed) Human Values and Global Governance. Studies in Development, Security and Culture, Vol. 2, Palgrave-Macmillan, pp. 198–219. 171. Wallensteen, Peter. 2008. Third Parties in Conflict Prevention. A Systematic Look, in Mellbourn, A. and P. Wallensteen (eds). 2008., Third Parties and Conflict Prevention. pp. 56–73, with F. Möller. 170. United Nations Arms Embargoes. Their Impact on Arms Flows and Target Behaviour, SIPRI and Uppsala University, 2007, with Damien Fruchart, Paul Holtom, Siemon T. Wezeman, and Daniel Strandow, 57 p. 169. Wallensteen, Peter 2007. Strategic Peacebuilding: Issues and Actors, Joan B. Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies, University of Notre Dame, Occasional Paper 28, September 2007, 17 p. 168. ‘The Limits of Peace: Third Parties in Civil Wars in Southeast Asia, 1993– 2004’, Negotiation Journal, Vol. 23 (2007) No. 4: 373–391 with Frida Möller; Karl deRouen; Jacob Bercovitch. 167. ‘Promises and Pitfalls in Reconciliation Processes’, in New Routes, 12 (2007), No 3: 3–5, with Karen Brounéus (Life and Peace Institute, Uppsala). 166. Armed Conflict, 1989–2006’, Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 44 (2007), No 5: 621–32, with Lotta Harbom. 165. ‘International Peacekeeping: The UN versus Regional Organizations’, with Birger Heldt, in Hewitt, J. J., J. Wilkenfeld, T. R. Gurr 2007. Peace and Conflict 2008. Center for International Development and Conflict Management, University of Maryland. 164. Wallensteen, Peter 2007. Human Security and the Challenges of Armed Conflict, ASAN Foundation, Freedom from Want and Fear: Human Security in the Era of Globalization. Seoul, Korea, 2007, pp. 176–93 (with a summary in Korean). 163. ‘Patterns of major armed conflicts, 1997–2006’, SIPRI Yearbook 2007, Appendix 2.1, pp. 79–90 with Lotta Harbom. 2005–2006 162. Peter Wallensteen 2006. ‘ONU em conflito armado: estudo de seus limites e poderes’ i Maria Izabel Valladao de Carvalho and Maria Helena de Castro Santos (eds). O Século 21 no Brasil e no mundo. Bauru, SP: Edusc, pp. 17–43. 161. Wallensteen, Peter 2006. Dag Hammarskjöld and the Psychology of Conflict Diplomacy, in Tommy Gärling et al. (eds). Diplomacy and Psychology: Prevention of Armed Conflict after the Cold War, Singapore: Marshall

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160.

159.

158.

157.

156.

155.

154.

153.

152.

151.

150.

149.

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Cavendish, 2006, pp. 15–42. Also in Peter Wallensteen 2011. Peace Research: Theory and Practice, London: Routledge, pp. 154–171. Sanctions for Conflict Prevention and Peacebuilding. Lessons Learned from Côte d’Ivoire and Liberia, 2006. Department of Peace and Conflict Research: Uppsala University. (with Mikael Eriksson and Daniel Strandow), see also https://pcr.uu.se/research/smartsanctions/. Updated in Peter Wallensteen 2011. Peace Research: Theory and Practice, London: Routledge, pp. 206–228. Harbom, Lotta, Stina Högbladh and Peter Wallensteen. 2006. ‘Armed Conflict and Peace Agreements’, Journal of Peace Research. 43 (5): 617–631. Also in Peter Wallensteen 2011. Peace Research: Theory and Practice, London: Routledge, pp. 143–153. Wallensteen, Peter 2006. Trends in major war: too early for waning?’ in Väyrynen, Raimo (ed). The Waning of Major War. Theories and Debates, London, New York: Routledge, pp. 80–93. ‘Patterns of Major Armed Conflict, 1990–2005’, SIPRI Yearbook 2006. Armaments, Disarmament and International Security, Appendix 2 A, pp. 108– 122 (with Lotta Harbom, and Uppsala Conflict Data Program). Wallensteen, Peter 2005. Postscript: Challenges to Conflict Resolution (Reflections at New Year 2005)’ (in Arabic), in Understanding Conflict Resolution, Arab edition, (see Book 37 above) Amman 2006, 23 p. Wallensteen, Peter 2005. Northeast Asia: Challenges to Conflict Prevention and Prevention Research’ in Swanström, Niklas (ed). 2005. Conflict Prevention and Conflict Management in Northeast Asia, Central Asia-Caucasus Institute & Silk Road Studies Program – Johns Hopkins University and Uppsala University, pp. 39–49. Wallensteen, Peter 2005. Conflict Prevention’ in John Henderson and Greg Watson (eds) 2005. Securing a Peaceful Pacific, Canterbury University Press, Christchurch, New Zealand, pp. 33–42. Wallensteen, Peter 2005. How to Organize Conflict Prevention?’ in Report of the Dag Hammarskjöld Symposium on Respecting International Law and International Institutions, Uppsala, Sweden, The Dag Hammarskjöld Foundation and the Department of Peace and Conflict Research, pp. 27–35. Harbom, Lotta and Peter Wallensteen 2005, ‘Armed Conflict and Its International Dimensions 1946–2004’ Journal of Peace Research vol. 42 (5): 623–635. Wallensteen, Peter 2005. La adaptabilidad de la ONU: agenda amplia, poder camiante, in Maria Cristina Rosas 2005 (ed) 60 Anos de la ONU: Qué debe Cambiar? Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, México, pp. 79–97. “Patterns of major armed conflicts, 1990–2004” in SIPRI Yearbook 2005: Armaments, Disarmament and International Security, Appendix 2 A, pp. 121– 133 (with Lotta Harbom). ‘Förebyggande diplomati’ (Preventive Diplomacy) in Ask, Sten and Anna Mark-Jungkvist (eds) 2005. Freden som äventyr. Dag Hammarskjöld och FN: s framtid (Peace as Adventure. Dag Hammarskjöld and the Future of the UN), Stockholm: Atlantis, pp. 278–289 (with Jan Eliasson).

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148. Wallensteen, Peter 2005. Positive sanctions: On the potential of rewards and target differentiation’, in Wallensteen, Peter and Carina Staibano 2005 (eds). International Sanctions: Between words and wars in the global system, New York and London: Frank Cass, pp. 229–241. 147. The 2004 Roundtable on UN Sanctions against Iraq: Lessons Learned. Executive Summary, with Carina Staibano and Mikael Eriksson, January 2005. Uppsala: Department of Peace and Conflict Research, available at https://pcr. uu.se/research/smartsanctions/, 25p. 2003–2004 146. “One-Sided Violence and Non-State Conflict” in Harbom, Lotta (ed) 2004. States in Armed Conflict 2003, Uppsala: Department of Peace and Conflict Research, pp. 133–142 (with Kristine Eck and Margareta Sollenberg). 9p. 145. Wallensteen, Peter 2004. Reflections on September 11 and Democracy, in Mellbourn, Anders (ed) Developing a Culture of Conflict Prevention, Gidlunds förlag. pp. 55–66. 144. Wallensteen, Peter 2004. Les limite des politiques de sanctions et de la recherche sur les sanctions, Géoéconomie, 30 (été 2004), Institute Choiseul, Paris, pp. 75–88. 143. “Human Security, Conflict Prevention and Peacekeeping”, 2004, in International Conference on Human Security in East Asia. Seoul: UNESCO (with Birger Heldt), pp. 19–34. 142. Attention and commitment: Practical approaches in bridging gaps in UN’s post-conflict peace building capacity. Contribution to the UN High Level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change, June 2004 (with Carina Staibano), https://pcr.uu.se/research/smartsanctions/. 141. Wallensteen, Peter 2004. Preventing Genocide: Three Agendas of Action, in Eva Fried (ed) Stockholm International Forum 2004. Preventing Genocide. Threats and Responsibilities, Stockholm: Regeringskansliet, pp. 187–189. 140. “Patterns of major armed conflicts, 1990–2003” in SIPRI Yearbook 2004 (with Mikael Eriksson), pp. 132–143. 139. Routes to Democracy in Burma/Myanmar: The Uppsala Pilot Study on Dialogue and International Strategies, Uppsala 2004 (with Carina Staibano and Mikael Eriksson). 138. Wallensteen, Peter and Patrik Johansson 2004. Security Council Decisions in Perspective in Malone, David (ed), The UN Security Council. From the Cold War to the 21st Century, Lynne Rienner, Boulder, London, pp. 17–33. 137. Wallensteen, Peter 2004. ‘The Uppsala Conflict Data Program 1978–2003’ in Mikael Eriksson (ed) 2004. States in Armed Conflict 2002. Uppsala: Uppsala Publishing House, pp. 11–31. Updated to 2010 in Peter Wallensteen 2011. Peace Research: Theory and Practice, London: Routledge, pp. 111–124. 136. Conflict Prevention: Methodology for Knowing the Unknown, with Frida Möller. Uppsala Peace Research paper No. 7, 2003, 31p. Updated in Peter

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135.

134. 133. 132.

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Wallensteen 2011. Peace Research: Theory and Practice, London: Routledge, pp. 125–142. Wallensteen, Peter 2003. Rationality, Alternative Security and the People: Alva Myrdal’s Approach to International Disarmament, in Wallensteen, P (ed) 2003. Alva Myrdal in International Affairs, Uppsala Publishing House, pp. 11–21. Also in Swedish: Att kämpa mot ‘dårskapens välde’. Alva Myrdals syn på nedrustningsfrågan (To fight against the ‘reign of folly’. Alva Myrdal’s view on Disarmament), Arbetarhistoria 2003: 2–3, special issue on Alva Myrdal, pp. 16–19. Also in Klingvall, Maj-Inger and Gabriele Winai Ström 2010. (eds) Från Myrdal till Lindh. Svenska diplomatprofiler, (From Myrdal to Lindh, Profiles of Swedish Diplomats), Gidlunds pp. “Armed Conflict, 1989–2002”, Journal of Peace Research, 40 (5): 593–607 (with Mikael Eriksson and Margareta Sollenberg). “Patterns of major armed conflict, 1990–2002,” in SIPRI Yearbook 2003, with Mikael Eriksson, Margareta Sollenberg, pp. 109–125. Wallensteen, Peter 2003. Nota introductora, in María Cristina Rosas, Sanciones, zanahorias y garrotes (Sanctions: Carrots and Sticks), Universidad Nacional Autónoma de Mexico, and Sela, Venezuela, 2003, pp. 25–29.

2001–2002 131. Kristina Granberg, Kristine Eck and Peter Wallensteen 2002. Identifying Wars: Systematic Conflict Research and Its Utility in Conflict Resolution and Prevention: Executive Summary, International Conference on Conflict Data, held at Uppsala University 2001. 130. “Peace and Security”, Section VI in Maciejewski, Witold (ed), The Baltic Sea Region: Cultures, Politics, Societies, Uppsala: Baltic University Press, 2002, pp. 431–484, with Claes Levinson and others, development of 26 above. 129. “Armed Conflict 1946–2001: A New Dataset” (with Nils Petter Gleditsch, Mikael Eriksson, Margareta Sollenberg, and Håvard Strand) in Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 39, No 5, 2002: 615–637, also in Eriksson, Mikael (ed), States in Armed Conflict 2001 (Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Research Report No 63, 2002). 128. “Patterns of Major Armed Conflict, 1990–2001” (with Mikael Eriksson and Margareta Sollenberg), SIPRI Yearbook 2002, Oxford University Press, pp. 63–80, also in Eriksson, Mikael (ed), States in Armed Conflict 2001 (Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Research Report No 63, 2002). 127. Wallensteen, Peter 2002. The Stockholm Process. An Overview. February 2002, https://pcr.uu.se/research/smartsanctions/. 126. Wallensteen, Peter 2002. Reassessing Recent Conflicts: Direct and Structural Conflict Prevention, in David Malone and Fen Osler Hampson (eds), From Reaction to Conflict Prevention. Opportunities for the UN System, 2002, Lynne Rienner, pp. 213–228.

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125. Wallensteen, Peter 2001. The Growing Peace Research Agenda, 2001, Occasional Paper, 21: OP 4, Joan B. Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies, University of Notre Dame, South Bend, Indiana, USA. 124. Wallensteen, Peter 2001. Conflict Patterns: Recent Lessons - Implications for the Future. Presentation to the International Air Power Symposium, Uppsala, August 24, 2001. 123. Wallensteen, Peter 2001. Global Development Strategies for Conflict Prevention, Report to the Parliamentary Committee on Swedish Politics for Global Development (Globkom), August 2001. 122. Wallensteen, Peter 2001. War and Peace: Lessons from the 20th Century. The Høirup Inaugural Lecture, American Scandinavian Foundation, May 4, 2001. Scandinavian Review, New York. 121. “Armed Conflict, 1989–2000”, Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 38 (2001), No 5, (with Margareta Sollenberg). 120. “Major armed conflicts”, in SIPRI Yearbook 2001 (with Margareta Sollenberg), Oxford University Press, Oxford. 1999–2000 119. Wallensteen, Peter 2000. A Century of Economic Sanctions: A Field Revisited, 2000. Uppsala Peace Research Papers No. 1, Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research. Also in Peter Wallensteen 2011. Peace Research: Theory and Practice, London: Routledge, pp. 183–205. 118. “Turism, krig och fred” (Tourism, War and Peace) in På resande fot, ETOUR, Östersund and Sellin, Stockholm 2000, pp. 129–136 (with assistance from Mikael Eriksson). 117. Wallensteen, Peter 2000. Baltic Peace and the Baltic University. Essay in honour of Professor Lars Rydén, September 25, 2000. 116. Wallensteen, Peter 2000. Är unionsupplösningen 1905 relevant idag? (Is the Dissolution of the Union 1905 Relevant Today?) i Sven Eliaeson and Ragnar Björk (eds) Union och Secession. Perspektiv på statsbildingsprocesser och riksupplösningar (Union and Secession. Perspectives on State Formation Processes and Dissolutions of Empires), Carlssons Bokförlag, Stockholm, pp. 74–83. 115. ‘Armed Conflict, 1989–99’. Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 37, No 5, pp. 635–649, (with Margareta Sollenberg), also in Sollenberg, Margareta (ed), 2000. States in Armed Conflict 1999, Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Report No. 55. 114. “Major armed conflicts”, in SIPRI Yearbook 2000 (with Taylor Seybolt and Margareta Sollenberg), Oxford University Press, Oxford. 113. Wallensteen, Peter 2000. Ny tid kräver nytt säkerhetsråd, i Backström, Karin, 2000 (ed). Tio tycker om FN (Ten View the UN), Svenska FN-förbundet, Stockholm, pp. 28–36.

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112. Wallensteen, Peter 2000. ‘Building Peace’. Review of John Paul Lederach, Building Peace: Sustainable Reconciliation in Divided Societies, in Journal of Contingencies and Crisis Management, Vol 8, no 1, March 2000, pp. 58–60. 111. “Armed Conflicts, 1989–1998”, Journal of Peace Research, vol. 36 (5) 1999, pp. 593–606 (with Margareta Sollenberg). 110. “Mainstreaming a Gender Perspective in Multidimensional Peacekeeping Operations, Executive Summary of the Preparatory Workshop” (done with the Lessons Learnt Unit, DPKO, UN) (with Louise Olsson, Jullyette Ukabiala, Ylva Blondel and Leonard Kapungu), Uppsala 1999. 109. Wallensteen, Peter 1999. Efter det kalla kriget: Konfliktlösning och preventiv säkerhet, (After the Cold War: Conflict Resolution and Preventive Security) in Fredens gränsland, (Frontiers of Peace), editor Eva Kellström Froste, 1999. 108. “De nya fredsavtalen” (The New Peace Agreements), Forskning och Framsteg, No 3, April 1999, with Margareta Sollenberg and Thomas. Ohlson. 1997–1998 107. “Acting Early: Detection, Receptivity, Prevention and Sustainability. Reflecting on the First Post-Cold War Period”, in Klaas van Walraven (ed). 1998. Early Warning and Conflict Prevention. Limitations and Possibilities. Netherlands Institute of International Relations [Clingendael], Kluwer Law International, The Hague, pp. 83–99. 106. “Preventive Security: Direct and Structural Prevention of Violent Conflicts”, in Wallensteen, P. (ed). 1998. Preventing Violent Conflicts: Past Record and Future Challenges, Report No 48, Department of Peace and Conflict Research. 105. “Armed Conflict and Regional Conflict Complexes, 1989–1997,” Journal of Peace Research, 35 (1998): 593–606 (with Margareta Sollenberg). Also Chapter 43 in Philippe De Lombaerde and Fredrik Söderbaum (eds) Regionalism. Volume III: The New Regionalism (1990–2000), London: Sage 2013, pp. 409–424. 104. “New Threats and New Security. The post-Cold War debate revisited”, with Carl Johan Åsberg, in Wallensteen, P. (ed) 1998 Preventing Violent Conflicts. Past Record and Future Challenges, Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research, pp. 167–202. 103. “Armed conflict and Humanitarian Emergencies: Exploring A Relationship”, in NOHA, Geopolitics in humanitarian assistance, Luxembourg, EC 1998. (with Magnus Öberg). 102. “Från krig till fred genom förhandlingar” (From war to peace through negotiations) with Margareta Sollenberg, Epok, 3/1998. 101. “Prevention and Preventive Diplomacy. Lessons since the Cold War” in Edström, Bert. (ed) 1998. The UN, Japan and Sweden, Achievements and Challenges, Swedish Institute of International Affairs, pp. 73–83.

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100. Asia: Future in Peace or Conflict? For the Ministry for Foreign Affairs, Working Group on a Swedish Asia Strategy, with Niklas Swanström 1998. In Swedish. 99. “New Actors, New Issues, New Actions,” in Wallensteen, P. (ed) 1997. International Intervention: New Norms in the post-Cold War Era? Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University, pp. 5–16. 98. “Armed Conflicts, Conflict Termination and Peace Agreements, 1989–1996,” Journal of Peace Research, vol 34, no 3, 1997, pp. 339–368, with Margareta Sollenberg. 97. “Environment, Conflict and Cooperation”, in Dag Brune and others, eds., The Global Environment (Weinheim: VCH and Oslo: Scandinavian Scientific Press), 1997, Vol. 2, pp. 691–704, with Ashok Swain. 96. Executive Summary, 1997 Executive Seminar on Preventing Conflict: Past Record and Future Challenges. Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research 1998. 95. “Major armed conflicts in 1996,” SIPRI Yearbook. Oxford University Press, 1997, pp. 17–30, with Margareta Sollenberg. 94. “Europa und die Konfliktmuster der Zukunft”, in Wolf-Dieter Eberwein (ed), Europa im Umbruch. Chancen und Risikien der Friedensentwicklung nach dem Ende der Systemkonfrontation. Münster: agenda 1997. 93. Intryck från Budapest, Internationella studier, Stockholm, spring 1997. Originally: Ungern lämnar alliansfriheten (Hungary abandonning non-alignment). 1995–1996 92. The End to International War? Armed Conflict 1989–1995, Journal of Peace Research, Vol 33, No 3, August 1996, pp. 353–370, with Margareta Sollenberg. 91. Conflict Resolution in Larger Southeast Asia: Trends and Challenges, in Lindgren, Göran (ed) 1996, Economy and Conflict in Southeast Asia, course program, Uppsala University. 90. Executive Summary. The 1995 Executive Seminar on Third Parties and New Challenges to Conflict Resolution. Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University 1995, 27 pp. 89. Handlingsfrihet och EU-samarbete, Kommentar till Av vitalt intresse- EU:s utrikes- och säkerhetspolitik inför regeringskonferensen, av Gunilla Herolf och Rutger Lindahl, i SOU 1996:7, s 63–67. 88. Major Armed Conflicts, 1995, SIPRI Yearbook 1996 with Margareta Sollenberg. 87. Peace-Making in Cambodia: A Framework, i Amer et al. The Cambodian Conflict: From Intervention to Resolution 1979–1991. Penang 1996, 1–11. 86. Cambodia and Conflict Resolution Theory, in Amer et al. The Cambodian Conflict: From Intervention to Resolution 1979–1991. Penang 1996, pp. 140– 162.

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85. International Fresh Water Systems as a Source of Conflict and Cooperation: Learning from the Past and Prescribing for the Future, in Kurt R. Spillmann and Günther Bächler (eds), Environmental Crisis: Regional Conflicts and Ways of Cooperation. Report of the International Conference at Monte Verità, Switzerland, 3–7 October 1994. Zürich, 1995, pp. 138–147, with Ashok Swain. 84. Kan FN konkurreras ut? (Can the UN lose in competition?), En värld, 1995. 83. Dags för ett nytt säkerhetsråd? (Time for a New Security Council?) Uttryck, Uppsala, Utrikespolitiska föreningen, 1995. 82. After the Cold War: Emerging Patterns of Conflict, Journal of Peace Research, vol 32, no 3, 1995, pp. 345–360, with Margareta Sollenberg, also in Sollenberg, Margareta (ed), States in Armed Conflict, 1994, Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University. 81. Major Armed Conflicts in 1994, SIPRI Yearbook 1995, Oxford University Press, 1995, pp. 21–35 with Margareta Sollenberg. 80. Vietnam möter en ny värld (Vietnam meets a New World), Internationella Studier, 1995 1993–1994 79. Wallensteen, Peter 1994. Environmental Destruction and Serious Social Conflict: Developing A Research Design, PRIO Report, no. 3, May, 1994. 78. Wallensteen, Peter 1994. UN Peace-keeping intervention in Conflict Situations, in A World at the Crossroads: New Conflicts, New Solutions, Pugwash Conferences, Singapore, World Scientific Publishing Co, 1994, pp. 388–402. 77. Wallensteen, Peter and Karin Axell 1994. Conflict Resolution and the End of the Cold War, 1989–1993. Journal of Peace Research, Vol 31, no 3, 1994, pp. 333–349. Also in Nordlander, Ylva (ed), States in Armed Conflict 1993. Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala, 1994. 76. Wallensteen, Peter 1994. I det kalla krigets långa skugga, Internationella studier, 1994:3, ss 65–73. 75. Wallensteen, Peter 1994. Representing the World. A Security Council for the 21st Century, Security Dialogue Vol. 25 (1): 63–75, reproduced in Diehl, Paul (ed), The Politics of Global Governance, Lynne Rienner, 1996. 74. Wallensteen, Peter and Karin Axell 1993. Armed Conflicts after the Cold War, Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 30 No 3, pp. 331–346. Also in Axell, Karin (ed), States in Armed Conflict 1992, Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala, 1993. 73. Wallensteen, Peter and Karin Axell 1994. Major Armed Conflicts in 1993, SIPRI Yearbook 1994, Oxford University Press, 1994. 72. Wallensteen, Peter and Birger Heldt 1993. Major Armed Conflicts in 1992, SIPRI Yearbook 1993, Oxford University Press, 1993.

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1991–1992 71. Wallensteen, Peter 1992. Global Patterns of Conflict and the Role of Third Parties, Notre Dame Law Review, Vol. 67, No 3, pp. 1409–1431. 70. Wallensteen, Peter 1992. The UN in Armed Conflicts, Hague Academy of International Law, The Development of the Role of the Security Council, Workshop 1992, Dordrecht: Martinus Nijhoff, pp. 303–316 69. Understanding Swedish Military Expenditures, Cooperation and Conflict 1992 (with Björn Hagelin) 68. Wallensteen, Peter 1994. Environmental Destruction and Serious Social Conflict: Developing a Research Design, i Lodgaard, Sverre and H af Ornäs, Anders (eds) The Environment and International Security, PRIO report, 1992. 67. Miljöförstöring och samhällskonflikter: Finns det ett samband? (Environmental Destruction and Societal Conflict: Is there a Connection?) with Lars Rydén, i Bo Gustafsson (ed) 1991, Människa Miljö Samhälle. Skrift vid Samhällsvetenskapliga fakultetens jubileumsår, (Human. Environment. Society) Uppsala University: Faculty of Social Science, pp. 223–250. 66. The Resolution and Transformation of International Conflicts. A Structural Perspective, in Väyrynen, Raimo (ed). New Directions in Conflict Analysis, ISSC, Paris 1991, pp. 129–151. 65. Wallensteen, Peter 1991. Is There a Role for Third Parties in the Prevention of Nuclear War? in Stern, Paul (ed), Society, Behavior and Nuclear War, Vol II, Oxford University Press 1991, pp. 193–253. 1989–1990 64. Rydén, Lars and Wallensteen, Peter. 1989. The Talloires Network – a constructive move in a destructive world. Philosophy and Social Action 15 (3–4): 75–85. 63. A Swedish Model for Peace and Security? In Stamatopoulos, Dimitris (ed), The Swedish Model, Scientific Symposium of the Foundation for Mediterranean Studies, Athens, 1990, pp. 217–233 (in Greek). 62. The Talloires Guide. A Transnational and Transdisciplinary Curriculum on Global Peace and Security, Uppsala University: The Talloires Secretariat, 1989 (16 authors). 61. Theory and Practice of Conflict Resolution: An International Perspective, in Garcia, Ed and Carol Hernandez (eds), Waging Peace in the Philippines, University of the Philippines: Ateneo Center for Social Policy and Public Affairs and the Center for Integrative and Development Studies, 1989, pp. 43–49. 60. Socialdemokratin och säkerhetspolitiken: Några kommentarer (Social Democracy and Security Politics: Some Comments), in Huldt, Bo and Klaus Misgeld (eds), 1989, Socialdemokratin och den svenska utrikespolitiken, (Social Democracy and Swedish Foreign Policy) Utrikespolitiska institutet, Stockholm, pp. 181–184.

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59. Conflicts and Conflict Resolution in 1988, in Wallensteen, P. (ed), States in Armed Conflict 1988. Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University, pp. 1–17. 58. Major Armed Conflicts in 1988 with Karin Lindgren and G. Kenneth. Wilson, SIPRI Yearbook 1989, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1989, pp. 339–355. 1987–88 57. The Origins of Peace Research, in Wallensteen, P. (ed), Peace Research: Achievements and Challenges, Westview Press, Boulder, Colorado 1988, pp. 7–30. 56. Understanding Conflict Resolution: A Framework, in Wallensteen, P. (ed), Peace Research: Achievements and Challenges, Westview Press, Boulder, Colorado 1988, pp. 119–144. 55. Teaching Arms Control and Conflict Resolution. Report from a European Survey, Talloires University Group, 1988 (with Lars. Rydén). 54. Food Scarcity and Human Conflict. Theoretical Considerations and Southeast Asian Experiences, in Wallensteen, P. (ed), Food, Development and Conflict: Thailand and the Philippines, Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University, 1988, pp. 1–18. 53. Food, Dependence and Conflict: Conclusions from Southeast Asia, in Wallensteen, P. (ed), Food, Development and Conflict: Thailand and the Philippines, Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University, 1988, pp. 311–324. 52. Major Armed Conflicts in 1987 (with G. Kenneth Wilson), in SIPRI Yearbook 1988, Oxford University Press, London, 1988, Ch 9, also in Los conflictos armados de nuestro tiempo, Papele para la Paz, Centro de Investigacion para la Paz, Madrid, no 30, 1988. 51. Crisis Management and Crisis Prevention: Reducing Major Power Involvement in Third World Conflicts, in Hopman, P. Terrence. and Barnaby, Frank, (ed), Rethinking the Nuclear Weapons Dilemma in Europe, MacMillan Press, 1988, pp. 267–286. 50. Superpower Intervention in third world conflicts: Can it be prevented?, in Singh, Narindar, Peace and Development, Lancer and Indian Council of Social Science Research, 1988, pp. 54–73. 49. Vad vill fredsforskningen? (Peace Research), in Internationella Studier (International Studies), Utrikespolitiska institutet (Institute for International Affairs), Stockholm, Sweden, 2/1987. 48. Afghanistan och Vietnam: Vår tids krig?, (Afghanistan and Vietnam: Wars of Our Time?) in Festskrift till Professor Skytteanus Carl Arvid Hesslers 80årsdag, 1987.

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1985–1986 47. Cypern - delat för alltid? (Cyprus - divided for ever?), Utblick, No 6/1986, Institute for International Affairs, Stockholm. 46. Den lojale försvarsforskarens dilemma, (Dilemmas of the Loyal Defence Researcher), Vår Lösen, special issue on ethics and the sciences, Stockholm, No 5–6/1986. 45. Krigsrisk och fredschans. Om konfliktmönster i dagens värld (Dangers of War and Chances for Peace. On Contemporary Conflict Patterns), Uppsala 1986. Shorter version: Om konfliktmönster i dagens väld (Contemporary Patterns of Conflict) in Politica, No 3/1986, Journal for Political Science, Aarhus, Denmark. 44. Dialog om de två världssystemen (Dialogue about two world systems), Scientists against Nuclear weapons, Uppsala, 1986 (with Lars Rydén). 43. Wallensteen, Peter. 1986. Food crops as a factor in strategic policy and action, in Westing, Arthur. (ed), Global Resources and International Conflict. Environmental Factors in Strategic Policy and Action, Oxford University Press, SIPRI and UNEP 1986. 42. Challenges to Deterrence, in Peace Forum North II, Alternatives to Deterrence, Sigtuna 1985. 41. Vägar till fred. Dag Hammarskjölds tankar och fredsforskningens modeller, Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala 1986. In English: Routes to Peace: The Thoughts of Dag Hammarskjöld and the Models of Peace Research, Current Research on Peace and Violence, No 3–4/1985. 40. Incompatibility, Militarization and Conflict Resolution, in Wallensteen, et al. (eds), Global Militarization, Westview Press: Boulder, Co 1985. 39. American-Soviet Détente: What Went Wrong?, Journal of Peace Research, No 1/1985, also in Dunay, P. (ed)., Studies on Peace Research. Center for Peace Research Coordination of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, 1986, and (abbreviated) as Dilemmas of Détente: Two Possible Ways Out, in Current Research on Peace and Violence, No 4/1984 and in TAPRI Yearbook 1986: Challenges and Responses in European Security, Avebury, Brookfield, 1987. In Swedish:”Vart tog avspänningen vägen?”, Tiden, No 8/1985. 1983–1984 38. Bengt Gustafsson, Lars Rydén, Gunnar Tibell and Peter Wallensteen 1984. The Uppsala Code of Ethics for Scientists, Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 21, No 4, pp. 311–316. In Spanish: El Código de Ética para Cientificos de la Universidad de Uppsala, in Guillermo A. Lemarchand (ed)., 2010. Ciencia para la paz y el desarrollo: El caso del Juramento Hipocrático para Científicos. UNESCO, Montevide, pp. 31–38. Also in Peter Wallensteen 2011. Peace Research: Theory and Practice, London: Routledge, pp. 13–20. 37. Universalism vs. Particularism. On the Limits of Major Power Order, Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 21 (3): 243–57. Also in Peter Wallensteen 2011. Peace Research: Theory and Practice, London: Routledge, pp. 74–92.

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36. Kina och världsfreden: Det kinesiska filtret (China and World Peace: The Chinese Filter), Tiden, Stockholm, No 7/1983. 35. Economic Coercion and Foreign Policy (with Miroslav Nincic) in Nincic, Miroslav and Wallensteen, P. (eds), Dilemmas of Economic Coercion. Sanctions in World Politics, Praeger, New York 1983. 34. Economic Sanctions: Ten Modern Cases and Three Important Lessons, in Nincic, Miroslav and Wallensteen, P. (eds) Dilemmas of Economic Coercion. Sanctions in World Politics, Praeger, New York 1983. 1981–1982 33. Armed Forces are not only for War, Review Essay, Journal of Peace Research, 1982. 32. Konfliktmönster i världen och fredsforskning i Uppsala (Patterns of Conflict in the World and Peace Research in Uppsala), Samhällsvetenskapliga fakulteten: Utvecklingslinjer och önsekmål fram till år 2000 (The Faculty of Social Science: Lines of Development and Plans, up to Year 2000), Uppsala 1981 and Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University, 1982. 31. The Politics of the Nuclear Weapons Freeze, in Bulletin of Peace Proposals, No 3/1982, titled Den Amerikanska frysrörelsen (The American Freeze Movement) in Barth, Magne (ed), Frys. Om frysbevegelsen og atomvåpen i Europa (Freeze. On the Freeze Movement and Nuclear Weapons in Europe), Oslo 1983. 30. Sovjetunionen och den maximala fredens chans (The Soviet Union and the Prospects for Maximal Peace), titled Våldet inom och mellan stater (Violence within and between states), Internationella Studier, Stockholm, No 6/1981. 29. Incompatibility, Confrontation and War: Four Models and Three Historical Systems, 1816–1976, Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 18 (1): 57–90. Also in Peter Wallensteen 2011. Peace Research: Theory and Practice, London: Routledge, pp. 33–73. 28. Globala motsättningar och lokala studieplaner (Global Contradictions and Local Syllabi), in Opper, Susan (ed), Gränslös Högskola (University without Boundaries), Stockholm 1981, and in Wallensteen, Lena (ed), Att internationalisera högskolan - Steg på vägen (Internationalizing the Universities Steps on the Road), Uppsala University, Uppsala 1982. 1979–1980 27. Contradictions in Disarmament Economics, Bulletin of Peace Proposals, 1979. 26. Livsmedel som maktmedel (Food as a Means of Power), Forskning och framsteg, Stockholm, No 7–8/1979. 25. Utopia - ett spel om konflikt och samarbete (Utopia - A Game of Conflict and Cooperation), Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University, 1979, revised ed 1983, 2001. School version 1994 and English version with Kjell-Åke Nordquist.

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24. South Africa and the Politics of the Arms Embargo, in Wallensteen, P. (ed), Weapon against Apartheid? The UN Arms Embargo on South Africa, Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala 1979. 23. Anarki, konflikt och krig (Anarchy, Conflict and War), review, Tiden, Stockholm, No 8/1979 22. Svensk säkerhetspolitik: ett alternativt perspektiv (Swedish Security Policy: An Alternative Perspective), in Elva åsikter om svensk säkerhetspolitik (Eleven Views of Swedish Security Policy), published by the Parliamentary Committee on Defence, Stockholm 1979. 1977–1978 21. Ekonomiska sanktioner. En studie av tio fall i modern tid (Economic Sanctions. A Study of Ten Modern Cases), Parliamentary Committee on Relations with South Africa, Förbud mot investeringar i Sydafrika (Banning Investments in South Africa), 1978. 20. Svenskarna och deras hövdingar. Om förtroende och sårbarhet i det svenska samhället (The Swedes and Their Chiefs. On Confidence and Vulnerability in Swedish Society), in Svensson, O. (ed), Det sårbara samhället (The Vulnerable Society), Secretariat for Future Studies, Stockholm 1978. 19. Disarmament and Development. A Scheme for Action, Bulletin of Peace Proposals, 1978. 18. The Politics of Base Closing: Some Swedish Experiences, in Wallensteen, P. (ed), Experiences in Disarmament. On Conversion of Military Industry and Closing of Military Bases, Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University 1978. 17. Säkerhet för Sverige genom fred i Europa (Security of Sweden through Peace in Europe) in Är svensk neutralitet möjlig? (Is Swedish Neutrality Possible?), Stockholm 1977. 16. Aktiv utrikespolitik - finns det ett borgerligt alternativ? (Active foreign policy is there a non-socialist alternative?) in Är svensk neutralitet möjlig? (Is Swedish Neutrality Possible?), Stockholm 1977. 1975–1976 15. Scarce Goods as Political Weapons. The Case of Food, Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 13 (1976): 4. Also in Harle, Vilho (ed), The Political Economy of Food, Saxon House 1978 and in Worm, Kirsten (ed), Industrialization and the Demands for a new International Economic Order, Copenhagen 1978. 14. Interpreting East-West Relations: Aspects of Post-Cold War Europe, Journal of Peace Research, No 3/1976. 13. After Helsinki?, Bulletin of Peace Proposals, 1975. 12. CADU - Ett biståndsprojekt. Nio problem ur ett utvecklings projekts historia (CADU - Nine problems from the history of a development assistance project (in Ethiopia), SIDA, Uppsala 1975.

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11. Sverige och den alleuropeiska säkerheten (Sweden and All-European Security), Liberal Debatt, Stockholm 1975. 1972–1974 10. Fredsforskning (Peace Research) in Ullenhag, J. (ed). Samhällsvetenskaperna under 70-talet (The Social Sciences in the 1970s), Stockholm 1974, updated 1975, published by the Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University, Analys och Debatt No 3. 9. Norden, EEC and FINS (The Nordic Countries, the European Community and FINS), with Olof Kleberg, Ulkopolitiikka, Helsinki 1972. 8. Sveriges svar på Norges Nej (Sweden’s Response to Norway’s No, with Olof Kleberg), Internasjonal Politikk, Oslo 1972. 1966–1971 7. Begreppet utveckling, Uppsala University: Department of Development Studies (The Concept of Development, in Swedish), 1971. 6. Rhodesia ja kansainvälliset taloudelliset sanktiot, Institute of International Studies, Helsinki 1971. 5. A Note on Values and Influence, Peace and the Sciences, Vienna 1971. 4. Dealing with the Devil. Five African States and South Africa, Instant Research on Peace and Violence, 1971. 3. Imperialism och interaktion: Två sätt att studera handel i internationella relationer (Imperialism and Interaction: Two Ways of Studying Trade in International Relations), Politiikka, Helsinki, 1971. 2. Characteristics of Economic Sanctions, Journal of Peace Research, 1968. 5 (3): 248–267. Also in Coplin, W.D. and Kegley, C. (eds), A Multi-Method Introduction to International Politics, Markham, Chicago 1971. 1. Rhodesias väg till självständighet (Rhodesia’s Road to Independence), Tiden, Stockholm, 1966.

Part II

Peaceful Means

A

Establishing Peace Research

3

Foundational Debates for the Study of Societal Problems: Lessons from Peace Research

4

The Origins of Contemporary Peace Research

5

The Uppsala Code of Ethics for Scientists Bengt Gustafsson, Lars Rydén, Gunnar Tibell and Peter Wallensteen

B

Refining Sanctions

6

Characteristics of Economic Sanctions

7

Targeting the Right Targets? The UN Use of Individual Sanctions Peter Wallensteen and Helena Grusell

8

Targeting Sanctions and Ending Armed Conflicts: First Steps Towards a New Research Agenda Peter Wallensteen and Mikael Eriksson

C

Developing Mediation

9

Going Ahead: Lessons for Mediation Theory and Practice Isak Svensson and Peter Wallensteen

10

Talking Peace: International Mediation in Armed Conflicts Peter Wallensteen and Isak Svensson 2014

11

Munich, Majors and Mediation

D

Organizing the World

12

Representing the World: A Security Council for the 21st Century

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Part II: Peaceful Means

13

International Conflict Resolution, UN and Regional Organizations. The Balance Sheet

14

The United Nations Security Council in State-based Armed Conflicts, 2003–2012 Peter Wallensteen and Patrik Johansson

A

Establishing Peace Research

Bringing Peace Research to China? With Dr. Liu Yi, translator into Mandarin of my book on peace research, at the book launch, in connection with a conference of the East Asian Peace project, led by Stein Tønnesson, Beijing, October 2014. Photo: From the author’s personal photo collection

Chapter 3

Foundational Debates for the Study of Societal Problems: Lessons from Peace Research Peter Wallensteen

Abstract This chapter is written specifically for this volume and builds on Peter Wallensteen’s experience in forming the internationally recognized Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University (DPCR). It takes up five foundational topics that are faced by any new effort for creating research milieus dealing with significant challenges to the local and/or global society. It gives examples of possible solutions drawn from DPCR practice.

3.1

Peace Research as an Example

Looking at it from the outside, peace research seems to thrive in the Nordic countries in 2020. There are independent institutions in this field as well as departments, centers or units in universities, and foundations and authorities with peace research in their name or prominent on their agendas. However, they have not emerged without efforts.1 On the contrary, all of them have distinctive history and identity, and have faced similar foundational debates, which often are shared with other problem-focused academic endeavors. This article points to typical issues and suggests conclusions from the experience of the Department of Peace and Conflict Research (DPCR) at Uppsala University, Sweden. This is done in the hope that this account might be of value for other ventures based on the idea of advanced scholarly contributions to deal with urgent societal problems, whether in the Nordic countries or elsewhere.2

1

This is an original chapter. My personal involvement in peace research in Sweden can be understood from Part I in this volume. 2 It is customary to distinguish between problem-oriented research, which is what this chapter deals with, focusing on a particular societal problem on the one hand, and, on the other, curiosity-based research, suggesting that the researcher is only pursuing the leads that stem from logical inquiry or contradictory evidence. Often this is an exaggerated differentiation, as the problem-oriented researcher also is driven by curiosity and a need to understand, and many “pure” researchers in fact are responding to questions of their time. © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_3

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The complex trends of global development are likely to continuously create new issues that will require innovative approaches, integrating knowledge from different fields and in that way lead to new insights. The pandemic of 2020 engulfing the entire world is likely to spark considerable efforts, not only in the medical professions (looking for optimal treatments) and medical technology (for protective gear, vaccines, etc.) but also in the social sciences (explaining the spread of the virus, where socio-cultural and economic factors may be crucial) as well as implications for conflicts, democracy and power. The formation of new milieus to deal with societal problems is normal in the sciences, as can be seen in the study of economic development, gender issues, migration and structural discrimination. Peace research belongs to this category of basic sciences with a concern for applied knowledge. Thus, its history and debates can be enlightening.

3.2

Peace Research in the Nordic Countries: A Short History

The Department of Peace and Conflict Research at Uppsala University (DPCR) started in 1971. From a very small beginning, it managed to prevail, expand and become an important center of knowledge in the study of peace.3 The Peace Research Institute, Oslo (PRIO) in Norway was the initial inspiration for young peace researchers in the whole region. When it was established in 1959 peace research was an unknown concept in Scandinavia.4 The initial ideas came from the United States, exemplified by the creation of the Center for Conflict Resolution at the University of Michigan (1959). The notion was made practical in the Nordic context by Johan Galtung, who had spent time in the USA and embarked on building peace research after returning to Norway. PRIO was an institutional

For general understanding of peace research history, see for instance, my “Making peace researchable” in Wallensteen, Peter 2011. Peace Research. Theory and Practice, Routledge, pp. 3–12, and various interviews, for instance, at PRIO’s 60th anniversary 2019: https://blogs.prio. org/2019/08/the-first-steps-in-the-prio-uppsala-connection-peter-wallensteen-interviewed-by-siriaas-rustad/, the discussion with Björn Hettne in March 2019: http://files.webb.uu.se/uploader/ 1576/Samtal1mars2019.mp3#__utma=1.57533657.1441858145.1586785580.1586857373. 542&__utmb=1.6.10.1586857373&__utmc=1&__utmx=-&__utmz=1.1584741834.538.60. utmcsr=l.facebook.com|utmccn=(referral)|utmcmd=referral|utmcct=/&__utmv=-&__utmk= 172038819. See also Wiberg, Håkan 2010 “Nordic Peace Research” in The Oxford International Encyclopedia of Peace. Oxford University Press. 4 The first mention of an academic role in research for peace, as well as bringing up concepts such as “negative” and “positive” peace may have been in a lecture by Quincy Wright in Oslo in 1954, see Regan, Patrick M. 2014. “Bringing Peace Back in: Presidential address to the Peace Science Society, 2013,” Conflict Management and Peace Science, 31 (4): 345–56. 3

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expression of this and in 1964 he launched the Journal of Peace Research (JPR),5 which quickly was filled with innovative articles – initially many by Galtung himself – and covering a vast array of topics. In addition, PRIO invited students and young scholars to “conflict theory weeks,” that provided for mutual inspiration and networking for the emerging peace research milieus. The creation of SIPRI, the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, was largely due to the efforts of the leading Swedish disarmament negotiator Alva Myrdal. The institute began its work in 1966 and had as a primary task to collect verifiable data of relevance for negotiated reductions of weapons of mass destruction, particularly nuclear weapons. The first SIPRI Yearbook appeared in 1968 and immediately became a lasting reference work for this field. The early Scandinavian institutions of peace research were all located outside the universities and thrived on developing contacts in national and international administrations, and international foundations. Was this an ideal form? The experience of one institution, based in Copenhagen, pointed to some of the dangers, as it was closed down, when there was lack of political support in the Danish Parliament. This fate was not unique. The pioneering Center for Conflict Resolution at the University of Michigan was terminated after less than ten years by a university leadership referring to the center’s internal conflicts. The nascent Correlates of War project led by J. David Singer moved into the Mental Health Research Institute, an interdisciplinary institution created for other reasons than peace research. Thus, there are problems with any organizational form. In the Nordic experience the universities had a role quite early, and in 1971 units for peace and conflict research were set up at three different Swedish universities. Even so they have met many and varying fortunes, meaning that in 2020 only the one in Uppsala remains as an autonomous university department. The department in Göteborg was merged into the university’s School of Global Studies, while the one in Lund was terminated with administrative arguments, later replaced by an initiative leading to a separate peace research section within the department of political science, something that also has emerged at Umeå University. Furthermore, the formerly independent TAPRI, Tampere Peace Research Institute, turned into a unit within the University of Tampere in Finland. A more recent initiative has led to the Center for Peace Studies at University of Tromsø in Norway. Thus, the Nordic countries demonstrate many and varied organizational expressions of peace research. Retrospectively, one can see that they are the result of particular initiatives and formed by the academic and political climate at the time, as well as by the motives of the initial founders and the local response to these ideas.

5

JPR was focused on peace more than the US-based Journal of Conflict Resolution started in 1957. JCR did not call itself a “peace” research journal, as “peace” was a controversial term, particularly in the US, but peace was mentioned in its subheading.

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3.3

Foundational Topics

The emerging peace research milieus faced several basic issues, what could be called the foundational questions. First, there were expectations that had to do with the urgency of the problems: Was there “time” for long-term research, when action was needed immediately? For any problem-based milieu this is a question that has to be answered not only at the beginning, but also as research moves along towards increasingly fundamental issues. In a way this is a normative discussion. It deals with the integrity of research dealing with matters that are important in the contemporary context. It involves questions of how to relate to the public debate and political action. Was the study of peace a matter of taking action or doing basic research? These are in fact two different issues, thus they could be labeled the first (action or research?) and the second debate (applied or basic research?). Then there are structural matters in organizing this type of research: Does it belong within universities or in other administrative formations? What are the advantages of being outside the university framework, and which are the dangers? Will new issues thrive within existing structures or do they require new forms? These constitute an additional layer of concerns that are formative for how problem-oriented research can gain strength and visibility: the third debate (within or outside the university framework?) and the fourth debate (subsumed under existing forms or developing new ones?). Then there is an even deeper layer of concerns that deals with the inner workings of a research organization: Is there an optimal form for innovative research? Clearly there has to be a stimulating environment, but is there systematic evidence on how to create and maintain such a milieu? The discussions point to a choice between an inviting, supportive environment versus a demanding, exclusive one. This is part of the fifth debate, only mentioned briefly here.

3.3.1

The First Debate: Action or Research?

Researchers have had different reasons for coming to peace research. Some have been drawn to it because of the topic, “peace”; others have been more attracted to the component of “research.” Thus, expectations vary. Was achieving peace the primary task or was it to advance research in a field that was under-studied? For the first generation of peace researchers, the nuclear threat was often the original reason for engaging in peace research but at the end of the 1960s there was also the seemingly endless and brutal war in Vietnam. It made the question of immediate action highly pertinent. Would it not be more important to find ways to stop this war – the most destructive one fought since the end of the Second World War? And if so: how to end it? Should it be with a compromise between the US and North Vietnam? Or should it be through siding with the oppressed side, the National

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Liberation Front in South Vietnam? And how could a researcher side with any party without becoming a party also in the ongoing conflict? These were not easy questions and the early achievements of peace research could not provide answers. Thus, the discussion quickly became political, but also one of critical scrutiny of the few results that were available.6 Clearly, many were impatient with the progress of research and preferred direct action. It rephrased the question of the debate to one whether peace research was reformist or revolutionary. It was not an environment conducive for nuances, or even for research. However, the first debate involves an important ethical issue that requires considerable thought. It had – and continues to have – many different solutions. Inevitably, the results of peace research are likely to draw political interests and lead to discussions on whether they are solid, pertinent and credible in the scholarly community. If the results meet the common standards of scholarly work it would also have a strong standing in the public debate. Even so, results can be questioned by those who might lose from them and welcomed by those who might gain. In principle, that should not be the concern of the scholar, but it forces all scholars dealing with societal problems to reflect on his or her ethical standing with regard to the consequences of research. How then should the scholar relate to results that may enter into the public domain and become controversial? There are at least five possible solutions: One way is to make a distinction between the role as a researcher and as a citizen. The researcher has the right to have opinions on contemporary issues, but needs to make clear when he or she acts in the role as a researcher and when as a citizen. It means, for instance, restricting the use of the title “scholar” or “professor” to those situations where one really engages as a scholar, basing one’s opinions on scholarly work and its political implications. Another solution is that the researcher himself or herself needs to draw conclusions from the results, rather than leaving that to the readers. It could prevent or limit misuse of findings in a political debate. Many of the potential consequences of particular findings can be assessed at the time of research, and thus, the author’s understanding is important. However, as time passes, matters may be seen in new light and that is more difficult to anticipate. It is important for the scholar to be explicit about a project’s potential implications at the time of concluding the project. A third way is to formulate standards for research that are ethically sound. An example of such an attempt is the Uppsala Code of Ethics for Researchers. It deals with the responsibility of the scholars to consider societal consequences of each project.7 It was produced during the early 1980s, when the world faced a new spike Examples are Schmid, Herman 1968. “Peace Research and Politics,” Journal of Peace Research 5 (3): 217–232 and Dencik Lars, 1973. Fred, våld, konflikt [Peace, Violence, Conflict] Copenhagen: Akademisk Forlag. 7 Bengt Gustafsson, Lars Rydén, Gunnar Tibell and Peter Wallensteen, “The Uppsala Code of Ethics for Researchers,” Journal of Peace Research 1984, Vol. 21 (4): 311–316, Chapter 5 in this volume. 6

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in the nuclear arms race and became increasingly clear about environmental destruction. These topics as well as the code itself are still relevant and stimulating. There have been surprisingly few attempts to pursue these questions. A fourth way of formulating a response to this ethical question is to note that all research results are preliminary. It typically specifies the conditions under which the results apply, the notorious “ceteris paribus”: This is what “we know” at the present time and it applies under specified conditions. Generalizations are possible, but they are done in view of existing knowledge. In an urgent situation, drawing implications is possible (or even necessary!), but all scholars realize that knowledge changes and new results may overturn what is today’s wisdom. Humility is built into the scientific process and needs to be conveyed also in public discussions. However, a fifth approach is to engage in the public debate as part of a researcher’s responsibility to bring findings into the public domain. As such results stem from logic, available evidence and general ethics they can add to ongoing debates. For instance, although there are no nuclear wars to draw evidence from, it is still possible to argue against such a war, based on what we know about its likely consequences. What happened in Hiroshima and Nagasaki can be used to extrapolate to a situation where two or more sides use even more destructive weapons. In line with the stands of organizations such as the Pugwash Conferences or the International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War (IPPNW) it can be argued that such a war should be prevented due to its potential consequences, and that it is for scholars to sound the alarm, before the calamity takes place. The same can be said for some other issues, such as climate change, where scholarly work through the IPCC (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) convincingly demonstrate that, for instance, increasing carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere will have devastating consequences for human civilization as we know it. In a similar vein, human rights constitute a basis for scholarly progress, not the least as it includes academic freedom. Threats to human rights, then, are not only a matter of observing an indicator for discrimination and potential civil war, but also the very existence of free research. Thus, researchers can combine the roles as a scholar with the one of public action to prevent particular dangers, and do it with a basis in their own profession. It can be debated how far a researcher can pursue such a public role and still retain a professional standing. This was something debated among psychiatrists with respect to the candidacy of Donald Trump in the presidential election of 2016: Would it be possible to provide a diagnosis of a person one had not had as a patient in a clinical setting?8 Still, this suggests that the dichotomy between action and research can be overcome. Research can be used for action, but the users should know the limits. Action can stimulate research or even demonstrate to the researchers the limits of

8

For a summary of this debate see Catherine Caruso in Scientific American, February 15, 2017: https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/psychiatrists-debate-weighing-in-on-trumps-mental-health/.

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their insights. Research is only one element in social change, but it is one favoring rationality, logic, evidence and realism. There is also a practical side to this. Researchers are normally good at research, perhaps also at teaching and training. But they are not necessarily good at public action. Peace requires activism. It is a matter of developing policy strategies, making choices of issues to pursue, reaching out to the population through traditional and social media, participating in direct campaigning, and pursuing an issue without unnecessary complications of the message. Some people are better at such actions, others are better at research, and, indeed, very few are experts in both fields. Thus, peace requires action and research, but it does not all have to be done by one person, or one group, or one institution. It is the combination that leads to change.

3.3.2

The Second Debate: Urgent Issues or Long-Term Change?

Related to the previous discussion is the second debate. What should be the priority for peace research or any other problem-oriented study? In the early days, it was quite clear that ending wars and preventing new ones was the priority. It was the trauma that formed peace research, stemming from World War I and repeated by the onset of World War II. Over time, however, there were additional traumas of equal strength and importance (Hiroshima, the Holocaust, the Vietnam War) or hopes (creation of the UN, Gandhi’s and King’s successful use of non-violence). But there were also other ways of formulating the issue: The repetition of wars and genocides suggests that there are major structural variables that have to be considered. A typical such question in the 1960s concerned development vs. underdevelopment, or imperialism vs. self-reliance. It was not enough to think about present manifestations of violence, also the long-term perspective had to be considered. Galtung formulated this well when contrasting direct violence and structural violence. Any problem-oriented study will face similar debates: Is it the immediate situation with its obvious urgency that should be remedied (e.g., police reforms in the debate over racial discrimination, ending men’s violence against women with better training of social workers) or the long-term, structural matters (removing inequalities, changing cultural norms)? There is a “direct” versus “structural” dimension to most problem-oriented issues. For peace research this became a choice of which research agenda to pursue. Obviously one institution could not cover all the topics. When the Swedish government in 1983 decided to create the second chair in peace research at the University of Göteborg, it was necessary to formulate how the now existing two chairs could be differentiated. It fell on me (as head of the Uppsala unit) and Björn Hettne (as head of the Göteborg unit) to work out a proposal. Our suggestion followed the Galtung notion: One department could deal with direct violence

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(Uppsala) and the other one with structural violence (Göteborg). However, it was made clear to us that these were not terms that could be written into government regulations, they were too “academic.” Thus, the distinction was translated into “causes of war and conflict resolution” for Uppsala and “development issues and resource questions” for Göteborg. The agendas were different but complementary. That also became the government’s decision and the two chairs were announced with these different profiles. Once the chairs were appointed, the two departments also developed along these lines, for instance, in their doctoral programs and research projects. Soon the researchers in Göteborg also termed their activity “peace and development research,” while Uppsala kept “peace and conflict research.” This outcome was a way to respond to the second debate on the research agenda: Would it deal with presently ongoing direct killings or would it focus on the structural conditions that also, ultimately, generated deaths but in a more indirect way (through poverty, starvation, lack of health services, inequalities, etc.)? One unit could give priority to the first, the other to the second, a de facto division of labor. The separation between urgent concerns and structural conditions remains valid. It is a debate that can be instructive, as it helps pointing to new variables that might have been overlooked. In the 1960s it meant highlighting matters of inequality, power and economic resources. Parallel discussions have occurred repeatedly since then, e.g., in the 1990s bringing in the gender variable as well as ethnic identities, in the early 2000s dealing with approaches to terrorism, or in the 2010s climate change.9 In 2020 two new such major issues emerged in full force, requiring reflection and action: pandemics (Covid-19) and racial discrimination (Black Lives Matter). The conclusion from the peace research story is that each of these issues would require centers of their own for a closer scrutiny in an interdisciplinary perspective. These issues are of such significance that they should not be peripheral concerns in existing institutions. They require their own unrestricted attention. This discussion shows that any problem-oriented research efforts will have to deal with a large agenda. Thus, it is important to develop a separate milieu where the societal problem in its full width can be understood. Such a shared concern stimulates thinking, generates ideas and provides quality control. It would also make the researchers professional and proud of this profession. However, developing such milieus, for instance for peace studies at leading institutions, notably in Britain and the United States, are important for the entire field. Peace studies at University of Bradford in the UK and at University of Notre Dame in the US constitute significant examples. The experience from the creation of the departments in Uppsala and Göteborg point in the same direction: It has had

9

Pim, Joám Evans, Herbert C. Kelman, Chadwick F. Alger, Nigel J. Young, Zahid Shahab Ahmed 2010. “Peace Research” in The Oxford International Encyclopedia of Peace Oxford University Press (download, September 2010); Wallensteen, Peter 2001. The Growing Peace Research Agenda, 2001, Occasional Paper, 21: OP 4, Joan B. Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies, University of Notre Dame, Indiana, USA; Wallensteen, Peter 2011. “The Origins of Contemporary Peace Research” in Höglund, Kristine and Magnus Öberg, Understanding Peace Research, Routledge, pp. 14–32.

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significance for the Swedish and Nordic context. A few, well-functioning and respected milieus improve the standing of the entire field. This significance of such a separate milieu seems to be important also for other areas, exemplified at Uppsala University by the Center for knowledge on men’s violence against women, an institution engaged both in research and in practice.10 By having a milieu that is focused on a particular societal problem makes for advances in knowledge and practices, stemming from ongoing, day-to-day discussion as well as shared seminars and readings. At the same time all centers need to take safeguards against being too closed or too separated from other activities in a university or in society. There needs to be space for continuous challenge to the dominant thinking within the milieu itself. Furthermore, being relevant for an important and multidimensional societal problem such as peace and war, a singular milieu is not enough. Obviously, a wide research problem has to be narrowly focused to become researchable. Modern research requires precision. Methodological developments have made it possible to ask more exact questions. Data collection has provided more advanced resources for retrieving and storing information. To achieve results that are important in the academic setting requires specificity. However, focusing the research problems more narrowly also means all milieus cannot deal with all the facets of a particular issue. There will be some aspects that are not attended to or deliberately left out from a particular institution or milieu. As one milieu needs to be focused, it benefits from other equally focused milieus. This is necessary to progress towards quality work. But it also means milieus become part of a de facto division of labor. The differentiated foci of the departments in Uppsala and Göteborg constitute an example. One could add that there has always been a local agenda for peace research (such as a particular conflict, or a particular national security issue), not only general and global issues. This is logical, as research has to respond also to the concerns of the immediately surrounding society. Such concerns promote the division of work, as the local expertise is likely to be useful also for more general interest in theory development and learning about best practices. In addition the narrower or local focus benefit from not being isolated from the rest. On the contrary, there is benefit in both ways: Local studies can be strengthened with insights from other parts of the world or from advances in general theory, which in turn can be enriched with local knowledge. This means there is a need for creating and maintaining networks, exchanges and an informal way of jointly guiding research so as to cover as completely as possible the peace agenda in its entirety. For peace research, this is an important function for focused journals, notably Journal of Peace Research and Journal of Conflict Resolution, as commonly shared readings. That is also one of the benefits of national or international conferences, in Sweden exemplified by the more recently created PRIS meetings

10

This center, very much developed through the efforts of Professor Gun Heimer, is in Swedish called The Center for Women’s Peace (Kvinnofridscentrum), see https://nck.uu.se/en/?languageId=1.

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(Peace Researchers in Sweden). It should be made clear, however, that the importance of networks and division of labor is not a matter of strict or centrally controlled coordination. It is a matter of cooperation emerging organically, when researchers see the need.

3.3.3

The Third Debate: Inside or Outside the Universities?

The discussions on the first two debates lead us to the third one, dealing with organizational issues. If the focus is on action and on urgent issues, then creating an institute outside the university might be the most appropriate. If the focus is on basic research and long-term change, then the universities provide the natural environment. The Swedish experience of peace research testifies to this. SIPRI started in 1966 with Alva Myrdal as the first chair of the board. She was at that time Minister for Disarmament and deeply involved in the international nuclear disarmament negotiations. There was a need to generate knowledge that was independent of the major nuclear powers, in order to bring the negotiations forward. It was definitely a matter of finding forms of action and to do so in an urgent context. The institute provided then – and still does – the appropriate form. However, Myrdal was also supportive of having peace research at universities. In her view it would be a way to reach younger generations about the urgency to stop the ongoing nuclear arms race. Thus, in her report on SIPRI, the role of universities was mentioned. She was primarily thinking of the universities as a teaching institution. Following from the two previous debates, however, we could add that the university has additional assets. The flow of students in fact can be one of the safeguards against institutional inertia and stagnation. The presence of students forces teachers and researchers to be up-to-date on societal events, in addition to keeping abreast on scholarly developments. An equally important argument is the strength of the norm of academic freedom. Globally, universities constitute one of the few environments where a free discussion is cherished and encouraged. It is a place for free expression and where governments or private interests cannot or should not interfere in a direct way. Institutes, however, are likely to be more dependent on short-term resources and outside pressures. Thus, universities have advantages as places of accumulating learning also in research dealing with major societal problems. Such ideas, however, have not always or necessarily been readily embraced by everybody in the universities. Research on peace was seen by some as a political subject and thus acceptable as a separate institute, but not to be housed inside a university. The ideas of inter-disciplinary research have been difficult for many within the university setting. Interestingly, these arguments had a counterpart among the peace researchers: Why bother with the universities? Some portrayed them as outmoded institutions without relevance. Thus, creating institutions outside the university would be easier and get quicker results. There were parallels between

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SIPRI and PRIO: Urgency and action converged towards an institutional format outside the universities. However, the combination of basic research and long-term change leads to other conclusions. That is how it was seen in Uppsala. Finland had its peace research institute, TAPRI (Tampere Peace Research Institute) in 1970, but it worked close to the local university and was later integrated into it. In the Swedish case, the universities could add something beyond what SIPRI could do: a close connection to undergraduate and graduate students and Ph.D. programs, in effect a continuous training of people into the field (some of whom may eventually find employment at SIPRI). In addition, the focus on basic research would have further long-term consequences. An advantage of the university as an educational institution is its ability to sustain research and recruitment of scholars into new topics as well as the freedom to take up issues that externally based institutes might not have resources or courage to do. Thus again, we can see that the debate does not have to conclude in an either-or proposition. There are important combinations that bring the issue forward, be it matters of peace, equality, health or other societal concerns.

3.3.4

The Fourth Debate: Autonomy or Merger?

The universities, however, have their own inner dynamics, which lead to special dilemmas and debates. One concern is the preservation of a research milieu over time as exemplified by the closing down of the center at the University of Michigan: How can autonomy be used and misused? The second is the ever-present top leadership concern with streamlining university structures, to provide for oversight and efficient use of funding. This often leads to a preference for larger administrative units. The dangers are, thus, on the one hand, closure, on the other hand, merger. The Uppsala and Göteborg ambitions were to become departments on the same level as other departments, notably within the Faculty of the Social Sciences. That was the essence of the battles that took place in the 1980s, between peace research and political science (in Uppsala) and with economics (in Göteborg). The conclusion of these deliberations led to separate departments where organizational concerns then could be left aside and energy concentrated on research and teaching. That has turned out to be a highly productive arrangement, and for Uppsala that continues to be the case. It shows that creative research requires considerable administrative autonomy, but also a close connection between research and decision-making. Still, there is always a possibility of merging well-functioning units into larger entities within universities (and the same can be true for institutes outside universities, we should note). This should normally be resisted. In the 2010s the Göteborg department was merged into the School of Global Studies. There were arguments for this, and for any department it is ultimately impossible to withstand the will of the university leadership. The result is, however, that this has weakened the field of

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peace and development at the University of Göteborg. The importance for successful research, as outlined in 3.1 above, is to have a milieu where the core issue is also the central issue. Being within a larger structure may inhibit that. Presently, the Kroc Institute at the University of Notre Dame faces the same challenge, now being part of the Keough School of Global Affairs. This is a decision by university leadership, and it makes it imperative for the Institute to preserve as much as possible of its own identity within the new setting. These two examples show that there can be an inbuilt clash in perspectives between the optimal research setting and the expectations of a university hierarchy. One counter to this gap is the idea of collegial governance, meaning that university board has a majority of researchers, teachers and students and that the university leadership is directly involved in research or closely linked to it. That can provide reassurance. Remarkably few universities have such a collegially democratic structure of governance. Many of the highest ranked universities in the world provide only limited influence for the researchers on the direct running of the university. The regents of the University of Notre Dame are either priests or donors. The regents of the University of Michigan consist of members elected from the State of Michigan. Yale University is run by the Yale Corporation. Thus, it is a challenge to find and maintain sufficient autonomy for researchers, research groups and research milieus within these structures. The options might be limited. In the US system academic mobility is one of the factors that leadership has to take into account: Prominent researchers can move to environments that provide better conditions and more resources. Academic mobility is definitely lower in Europe, not to speak of Sweden. If mobility is the only solution, then the idea of building a research milieu outside the universities becomes more attractive, something that should be of concern to any university leadership. It leads to the conclusion that the more democratically a university is run in its internal operations, the more influence there is for the researchers, teachers and students, and the lesser is the danger of unwanted mergers or closures. But even so, there is no guarantee. Ultimately, only a milieu’s standing in academia and in the public can provide assurance for its continued operation.

3.3.5

The Fifth Debate: Conditions for a Creative Environment: Cooperative or Adversarial?

There should be more research on the optimal research organization. Today’s inner workings of DPCR were the empirical result of positive and negative lessons from its own and others’ experiences. The most important conclusion was the significance of an open, inviting and supportive environment between researchers, teachers and students. It is a cooperative and integrative model of institutional management. That stemmed from personal experiences of other ways of running, for instance, a research seminar: inviting sharp debates, encouraging provocative

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statements, looking for errors to score points. Such an adversarial and exclusivist approach leads to an atmosphere where fear rules: It is not prudent to present tentative ideas or unfinished work. Without systematic evidence to support this, it still seems that a cooperative environment in the long run not only is better for the individuals engaged but also produces more interesting research. There might also be a size ceiling: Too many individuals in the same unit mean a reduction in insight of what is going on. Not knowing one’s own milieu risks frustration and unsound competition. Smaller units might, on the whole, be more creative. But there is also a floor: Too few that continuously interact creates in-breeding and even ingroup vs. outgroup dynamics. It is not easy to specify the optimal size of a productive research milieu. Perhaps the rule of thumb should be whether information can flow freely among the concerned researchers. Certainly, the optimal milieu will vary. For institutions working within the universities it is essential to keep to the highest possible academic standards. That leads to a supportive inner working but also to acceptance and connections to other parts of the university. It increases the chances of furthering interdisciplinary work, which should be one of the universities’ strong points. For institutions working outside the universities it would then be important to recruit from academia, not only from civil service or practice in general. That would be the way to arrive at the optimal mix of research profiles and at the same time retain academic qualifications. Ideally such institutes should find ways to add a teaching component. The fifth debate certainly includes many other elements, notably on the efficient use of economic resources, the ways one can engage in outreach to the general public, as well as to government and the private sectors. That debate will continue.

3.4

Conclusions

Problem-oriented research will face continued challenges, whether inside or outside the university. It means leadership has to be concerned about basic principles. Below are four general notions that might serve as guidance, when operating inside a university, but clearly also possible to translate to other organizations. These have been developed with peace research in mind, but they can easily be generalized to any other problem-oriented research area.11 (1) Protect the basic idea! It is necessary for a milieu to rule itself as much as possible and use its autonomy to develop the idea of being a place where the study of peace, or any other specified problem, is the central concern, not something on the margin of other activities. This means independence vis-à-vis other units, but also to the outside world. Integrity is important in all directions. 11

I was the Head of DPCR from the inception in 1972 until 1999, and these were principles I tried to follow.

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Integrity provides the necessary respect for the milieu. It also points to the importance to resist all ideas of amalgamation into larger units, however well argued in terms of benefits of scale there may be. Research thrives where the researchers have control, participate in decisions and are fully informed on the conditions of their works. The rule of thumb seems to be that the larger the unit, the less influence and empowerment of the researchers. (2) Achieve highest standards of competence! This is necessary for teaching and research. It is the main route for recruiting talented young persons. Particularly important for a university-based institution is to have an independent Ph.D. program, and to run it in such a way that its output (in the form of articles, dissertations and post-doc works) is methodologically respected. The best ambassadors of any university milieu are its students, and its future growth rests on its Ph.D. candidates and young Ph.D.s. This means for a department to promote and protect competence, by generating innovative research grants and filling tenured positions through open scrutiny. Furthermore, the highest quality of research is likely to result from a cooperative environment, rather than one marked by rivalry and competition. For institutions outside the university, adding a teaching component might be a good way to reach younger generations. (3) Keep accounts in order! Know where the money comes from and where it is going, and make sure it follows established rules. This requires an administrative staff that acts like hawks to avoid debts. It requires a leadership that promotes applications for grants and other funding. It means struggling with higher levels of the university to get the attention a dynamic department is entitled to. Factors (1) and (2) together are likely to attract external funding, but revenue is only one aspect. Expenditures have also to be closely monitored. It is important to make sure grants are spent in correct ways, are properly reported on, thus providing the safest basis for the long-term development of a milieu. For an institution outside the university this might be even more important, as an argument against any unit is to point to administrative disorder or spending beyond one’s means. (4) Gain international recognition! A good measure of whether a particular milieu has achieved necessary focus and quality is its international standing. Thus, developing international relations within the field is important. It strengthens a milieu’s position within the university. It also makes it attractive as a place of scholarship and for resources, thus affecting the other factors. It is important to contribute in some particular way that makes the milieu attractive also to others. Having expertise in particular fields or developing data where none has existed before are two ways towards such a recognition. There has to be something that can be readily identified with a particular institution. The most essential line might be this: Find your own niche!

Chapter 4

The Origins of Contemporary Peace Research Peter Wallensteen

Abstract In this chapter Peter Wallensteen deals with the formation of the peace research agenda during the past hundred years. The choice of topics is seen as a result of real world experiences. They come in the form of traumas, such as World Wars and nuclear weapons, or hopes, such as the forming of international organizations or the use of non-violent change. These events result in different agendas for different peace research milieus. The chapter also links this to philosophical thinking on peace and war, going back to Niccolo Machiavelli and Thomas More.

4.1

Introduction

Peace research grew as a critical and constructive analysis of basic tenets of ‘conventional wisdom’ of violence, much of which was well formulated in the advice of the Florentine politician and diplomat Niccolo Machiavelli to the Renaissance rulers of 16th century Europe. Guidance on war and peace appeared earlier as well – for instance, in the writings of Arabic (Ibn Khaldun), Indian (Kautilya), Chinese (Sun-tzu), and Greek (Thucydides) thinkers – often emphasizing the role of power and interest. Indeed, in many cultural traditions there have been continuous reflections on war and peace, notably in India (Upadhyaya 2009).1 Certainly such ideas were prevalent in European discourses on strategic studies during the 19th and 20th centuries, specifically within the so-called realist school. Some pillars were formulated even earlier by Thomas Hobbes, summarized in Latin as Bellum omnium contra omnes – everybody’s war against everybody (Hobbes 1651/1996). Peace research emerged as a criticism of these ideas. Its contribution, however, is not only criticism. Its strength has been to logically challenge and empirically Wallensteen, Peter 2011. “The Origins of Contemporary Peace Research”, in Höglund, Kristine and Magnus Öberg (eds) 2011. Understanding Peace Research. Methods and Challenges. London and New York: Routledge, pp. 14–32. Reproduced with permission. It is an updated version of Wallensteen, Peter 1988 “The Origins of Peace Research”, in Wallensteen, P. (ed), Peace Research: Achievements and Challenges, Westview Press, Boulder, Colorado, pp. 7–30.

1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_4

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examine whether Machiavellian ideas are in fact founded in reality: are realists realistic, or is that only what the thinkers think they are? Machiavelli and his legacy are only one stimulus for peace research. There is also another, less easily captured but still significant source of inspiration: research drawn from Utopian ideas. There has been considerable thinking on peace throughout history. Many ‘realists’ are not entirely realist. Many in fact discuss matters of morals, ethics and values in connection with the exercise of power, as concerning ideas of ‘just war’. Alternative ideas have been derived from secular and philosophical traditions, as well as religious, ideological and other normative sources. Together, these sources provide a rich pool from which ideas can be developed. Utopianism is an input to peace research that is different from the one generated by the Machiavellian heritage. The underlying idea is not only to ask what the world ‘really’ looks like and how it works; it is also to say that the world has to be improved – no matter how we describe it today – as the present condition of our planet is far from most meaningful definitions of peace. Utopia means ‘no place’ (More 1516/1997), so these are ideas that have not necessarily been tried as full-scale experiments. Still, hope as well as trauma drives people. Paraphrasing Hobbes, the Utopian source of thinking strives for Pax Omnium Inter Omnes (everybody’s peace with everybody; Wallensteen 2008). Such a peace research strand is located in a tradition of peace philosophers, exemplified by Tolstoy and Kant, and practitioners such as Gandhi, King and Hammarskjöld, unnamed citizens resisting repressive regimes, and humanitarian action aimed at reducing civilian suffering during war (as exemplified by Henri Dunant). The critique of realism and utopist thinking are complementary sources and there is no broad division within peace research along these particular lines. They are two different sources for inspiration to research questions. Still, when analyzing the origins and growth of peace research, the distinction provides insight into what type of research appears at which moment in time. As each type is associated with different methodological approaches this is a way of understanding the plurality of peace research approaches. Peace research grew together with modern scientific methods of inquiry. What began as an intellectual struggle with Machiavelli developed into innovative approaches to the study of violence and understanding of conflict. Ideas developed from the Utopian tradition have inspired research on the conditions for peace and cooperative approaches to achieving peace. This chapter will discuss the main sources of inspiration for peace research and outline the main historical events forming the discipline and the contemporary peace research agenda. It highlights how the discipline has been driven forward by a number of formative traumas – from World War I to recent developments in the wake of September 11, 2001. These traumas have generated new research questions, which in turn have resulted in the development of new methods and a search for data to inform, develop and test theory. The chapter also exemplifies how methodological development and data gathering relate to the underlying intellectual development of peace research. It does not present a full survey of peace research around the world, but provides examples of research that typify theoretical and methodological innovations.

4.2 Peace Research, Violence and Peace

4.2

81

Peace Research, Violence and Peace

Peace research is concerned with the question of violence. The concepts of peace and violence relate to one another. The most common definitions of peace include the notion of absence of war, armed conflict or threat of violent action. These are definitions of peace that state what should be removed from a relationship for it to be defined as peace. This can be contrasted to positive peace, which stipulates what should be added so as to change society and make it more peaceful. This would include, for instance, the use of conflict resolution, equal integration and/or justice for all partners in society. There is a multitude of possible definitions, which enlarge the research agenda. This makes it important to limit the field for any researcher or institution in order to be able to penetrate particular aspects more thoroughly. One may say that peace research has come to deal with organized violence in societal conflicts in particular. This focus makes peace research unique. Although this aspect of society might also be considered in other fields of inquiry, it is not a central issue in theory building. It is for peace research to answer the questions of ‘why?’ and ‘what to do?’ The definition of violence, consequently, is an important object of discussion and analysis in peace research, not only for thinking about causes of war but also for peace-building after a violent conflict (for a recent contribution, see Höglund/ Söderberg Kovacs 2010). Let us look at some of the definitions. One focuses the instrumental, conscious use of violence by one actor against another when at least two actors find themselves holding incompatible positions. This definition is closely connected to the analysis of open conflict: armed conflicts, wars, genocide, civil conflict and the use of sexual violence in war. It is what peace research pioneers Johan Galtung and others have labeled ‘direct violence’: one actor deliberately uses violent means against another to achieve particular goals. This concept of violence also connects to an understanding of peace as the absence of war (or armed violence): if violent behavior ceases then there is peace. Galtung has labeled this ‘negative’ peace (Galtung 1964). While early peace research focused on the danger of world war, attention today is more on the occurrence and recurrence of civil war. There are also more indirect forms of violence, where the implicit use of violence is inherent in situations of repression, occupation, colonialism and deterrence. The threat of violence by dominant actors – whether explicit or implicit – can also affect relationships; the potential for violence and its unpredictability can be enough to keep populations at bay. Thus, the Cold War actually froze relations and created insecurity on both sides. The threat of nuclear war affected top-level decision-making as well as ordinary people. Fear of war is a powerful tool of intimidation. The fear arises if one side has more powerful weapons than the other. Certainly, present-day terrorism uses a similar logic: the unpredictable use of violence against unprotected civilians generates fear. Fear is also a means used by repressive governments.

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However, taking the distinction one step further, there is also ‘structural violence’: a situation in which killing occurs not through the individual use of arms but through the organization of society – for example, humans dying from starvation in a country that is rich in food. It is significant that discussions of this meaning of violence have taken place within the field of peace research itself rather than in other disciplines (Derriennic 1972; Galtung 1959, 1964; Gronow/Hilppo 1970; Pontara 1978; Schmid 1968). Also, the concept of structural violence has found application elsewhere, for instance, in medical anthropology (Farmer 2004). Studies that connect structural variables to direct violence are sometimes drawn from structural violence conceptions and also from a study of justice and quality of peace as seen in questions such as: does inequality generate violence and war within and/or between states? Is durable peace conceivable in a relationship characterized by one dominating the other? Historically, the distinction between direct and structural violence has given rise to parallel research traditions. For instance, peace research at Uppsala University, Sweden, is pursued in the Department of Peace and Conflict Research, implying a focus largely on matters of causes of war and peace processes aimed at ending large-scale violence. Peace research at Göteborg University, Sweden, is organized in a milieu for Peace and Development Research, with a focus on structural issues, such as economic conditions, international dependencies and strategies for peaceful development.

4.3

Empirical Peace Research and Social Ethics

When dealing with issues of violence, peace research has demonstrated a preference for empirical investigation. Important theoretical contributors often explicitly invite empirical confirmation or suggest ways of substantiation. This preference unites the two sources of peace research. Discussions on realist issues, sooner or later, require empirical corroboration (Which examples are there? How many? Are they relevant? What can be learnt from them?), but also Utopian thinking – however untried it may be – requires evidence in modern history or in contemporary conditions (thus inviting comparisons between situations). A logically coherent argument against or in favor of a particular theoretical position is not enough: it will only gain credence once it can be demonstrated to have a counterpart in reality, in whole or in part. Theory is incomplete without evidence, as noted by J. David Singer, one of the peace research founders (Singer 1969). This element in peace research means that methodological innovation is of great interest and importance to peace researchers. For a traditional analyst, who largely is repeating what is already paradigmatically known, there is little need for methodological creativity as there is little expectation of finding something different or new. In contrast, peace research has been receptive to new methodologies and has been quick to draw on natural science methods, quantitative data, statistics,

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comparative approaches, experimental designs, surveys and new developments in geographical analysis such as geographic information system (GIS), as well taking ideas from behavioralism, game theory, future studies, neo-Marxism, environmentalism, constructivism, feminism, identity studies, etc. In terms of methods and approaches, peace research has been open and pluralistic, in short, interdisciplinary. Ideally, this situation means that results can be replicated by using different techniques, a possibility that has been explored too little. The interest in methods results from an additional ambition of peace research, namely to be able to make generalizations and, in a certain sense, predictions about social realities. In this regard, peace research is part of a natural and social science movement to understand what is general and repetitive, to learn from reality something that is applicable and useful for society’s development. Peace research aspires to say something about the conditions that can advance the attainment of peace. A consequence of this focus is that peace research has developed an awareness of social values in research. Obviously, values will affect scholarship – the more so the less conscious the researcher is of the value problems – but values constitute a major issue in peace research. Peace researchers are not simply interested in empirically understanding the extent of violence in the world. They also hope to contribute to the improvement of the human condition. For many peace researchers, the medical profession is an important parallel. Medical sciences are interested not only in understanding disease but also in developing methods to cure and eliminate ‘unhealth’ (Galtung 1965). Other research fields have similar ambitions, for example psychology. Indeed, value statements abound in all research, such as business administration and economics (studying the efficient uses of resources for the benefit of firms or nations) and education (to improve teaching practices to benefit students and society). Peace research exists in order to contribute significantly to the reduction of latent and manifest, present and future, uses of violence within and between societies¸ not to predict under what circumstances a war is successfully launched. This emphasis means that peace research does not want to contribute to the advance of a particular actor (be it a state or a movement), but to a system as a whole. It is only methodologically solid work that will have a chance to contribute to an improvement of the human condition, because to be respected among peers in the research community is a first requirement. It is upon this basis that peace researchers can play a role in societal development.

4.4

Global Traumas and the Development of Peace Research

The development of the field of peace research can be described with respect to some particularly formative traumas: World War I, Hiroshima, the Cold War, the civil wars following the end of the Cold War and the less obvious developments after the trauma of September 11 2001. These traumas have generated research into

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the causes of war, armaments, identity-based conflict and terrorism with a search for new approaches and, eventually, solutions without the use of violence. They are also connected to methodological developments. Let me here highlight the impact of some of these global traumas on the course of international peace research.

4.4.1

The World War I Trauma, Causes of War Research, and International Organizations

Machiavelli’s assumptions concerning the instrumentality and omnipresence of violence were dominant in Western thinking and political practices until World War I. Objections were raised by philosophers and pacifists – by liberal, socialist, religious, humanitarian and women’s movements – without affecting the decision makers in leading states. World War I began in the spirit of traditional thinking that can be summarized thus: ‘Violence is inevitable; if I don’t strike first I will lose. I control events sufficiently to know what the outcome will be; my country will support me.’ All centrally placed decision makers expected the war to run according to previously established timetables (see for instance, Tuckman 1962), but the war became devastating and took a course nobody anticipated. The initiators of the war were defeated, their kingdoms were overturned and their states were reduced, without the victors being able to celebrate. The traditional thoughts on war and the reality of World War I contradicted each other. New thinking was required, and from this intellectual and moral trauma sprung what is today peace research. Thus began the systematic historicallyoriented study of patterns and causes of war. During the 1920s and the 1930s several comprehensive projects were initiated. In effect they criticized the inevitability and instrumentality of violence. Certain systematic studies of war in history had already been made before World War I (Bloch 1899), but the true pioneering efforts were made after 1920. Sorokin (1937) collected statistics on wars during Greek and Roman times as well as in the world after 1100 AD, Wright (1942) studied the world following the end of the European Middle Ages, and Richardson (1960) analyzed ‘deadly quarrels’ since the Napoleonic age. The statistics gave a different picture of history. Violence appeared to be not continuous or omnipresent but varied in time and space, and the researchers began to look for periodicities and correlations. Some states had been more involved in wars than others. In other words, violence and war had causes and, in principle, it would be possible to influence and control them. These investigations also gave a picture of the destruction caused by the many wars before World War I, and it seemed apparent that many of these had also been more devastating than the decision makers had anticipated.

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This suggestion provided more material for discussion on the instrumentality of war and violence. The period immediately after World War I saw many peace efforts. The trauma gave rise to hopes for an effective international organization, and ideas from the 19th century were brought to bear on the actions of statesmen and politicians. Kant’s thinking on perpetual peace again became relevant (Kant 1795/2003). Thus, the trauma also sparked a search among leaders, researchers and the broad public for alternative solutions. Untested ideas became relevant and the idea of an international organization emerged as a way out of a repetitive trauma. There were a few precedents, such as the Rhine Commission and the International Postal Union successfully focusing on narrower issues. After the war there was strong support for something untried, leading to the creation of The League of Nations as well as an emphasis on international law as roads to peace. An entire field of inquiry and practical implementation emerged, with a strong emphasis on law, and this type of investigation has remained a field of its own. Of the earlier peace researchers, Wright was probably the one most open to such influences, and he made suggestions about the effectiveness of the League of Nations. The ideas of world order had, of course, been around before, with a focus largely on the sovereignty of the states as the ultimate cause of war. International organization and international law would contribute to reducing the independence of states, in the interest of general peace. However, there were no precedents to draw on, and little empirical basis for knowing if and how such organizations would work. The organizations were created by political leaders without any previous research, although the main proponent of the League of Nations, Woodrow Wilson, was not only the US President but also a former university president (Macmillan 2003, Ch. 7). The tradition of studying the causes of war that emerged in the 1920s and the 1930s is still vigorous. The Correlates of War (COW) project, initiated by J. David Singer at the University of Michigan, is one manifestation of this field of inquiry. By using clear definitions and carefully collecting information on inter-state relations since the Napoleonic times, the project assembled widely used data for further investigation (Small/Singer 1982). It inspired other work, notably research initiated by historian Istvan Kende in Budapest and continued by K. J. Gantzel in Hamburg (Gantzel et al. 1986; Kende 1971). The focus was not, however, exclusively on inter-state war and the period was shorter, covering the world since 1945. Later, in the 1990s the Uppsala Conflict Data Program emerged as a strong contender, covering inter-state as well as intra-state conflicts, and using new technology for searching and organizing information as well as for making the information available to the public (notably through the freely accessible web-based conflict database, https://ucdp.uu.se/). By 2010 it was probably more frequently used in teaching and research, than COW (Dixon 2009). The causes of war studies utilize a research approach that is fairly typical of peace research: violence is the central issue, stringent hypotheses are developed and empirically tested, with the hope that this increased understanding will result in

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useful proposals on how to prevent wars from erupting. This approach allows for analysis and methodological development, but the political impact of studies using this approach has been limited. Demonstrating the number of conflicts and scale of violence in the world has a strong educational effect but will not change the world. There was a need to sharpen the methodologies and raise more pertinent questions. Such improvements have been made in some of the post-World War II studies. Building on COW data, for instance, the work by Wallace (1979) demonstrates the dangerous combination of an arms race and smaller conflicts between nuclear-weapon states. It would make the experience of 1914 a repetition with more devastating consequences. The evidence, however, was not entirely conclusive (Diehl 1983). In the 1990s, the work by Bruce Russett most clearly challenged the realist notion by demonstrating that democratic states very rarely are at war with other democratic states. War and violence was not omnipresent or always a useful tool. This work suggested that the quality and form of government matters, and thus there would be concerns other than narrowly defined national state interests that motivate states. States can at least restrain themselves when they face states that are similar in governance. It may even suggest that there are other driving forces than pure self-protection (Russett 1993; Russett/Oneal 2001). These findings, which also included the observations that trade and shared institutions matter for reducing the occurrence of war, squared well with the experience of the European Union. The results, in other words, were not only statistically and academically convincing, they also supported and incorporated real-world examples. Causes of war studies addressed fundamental assumptions of the realist paradigm but left others unexplored. Clearly, the data show that violence is neither omnipresent nor inevitable. The instrumentality was also challenged: the results of a war were not necessarily those that the initiator had expected. In fact, initiators of large wars often ended up losing, as evidenced by World War I and other major conflagrations. This means that the violence did not ‘solve’ the underlying problems and space was opened for alternative ideas. This strand of research underscored the importance of building an international system that did not continuously generate new wars between states. The exact nature of such a system, however, remained to be carefully mapped out. The possible alternatives were still many: was it an integrated world, was it one where all units were democratic, or was it enough that all were drawn into the web of one, legitimate international organization? Certainly it suggested that a world of completely independent states was not going to generate peace, although that would have been the logical conclusions from the Machiavellian assumptions. Reality seems to provide a different story.

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4.4.2

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The Trauma of World War II and Disarmament Research

The devastation of World War II was even greater than that of World War I. The second war again underscored the inability of the power holders to predict the effect of their actions. Also in this war, the initiators were all defeated; the attacked became the victors. The need to understand the causes of war remained important. But World War II also gave rise to two new dangers: nuclear weapons and the dangers of rivalry between major powers, even though they had been united and victorious in recent wars. From these problems disarmament research and conflict theory emerged. The nuclear explosions over Hiroshima and Nagasaki were fundamental challenges to the research community, particularly to natural scientists and physicists. The basic civilian and humanitarian orientation of science was dramatically contradicted. Research, seen by its practitioners as theoretical and abstract, was suddenly and rapidly applicable and concrete in the most devastating way. The political failure to control nuclear energy and to make it freely available, as well as the onset of the nuclear arms race, led to a movement among scientists to contribute to arms control and disarmament. Few political leaders mastered the technological questions involved, and too many of them depended on expertise that was motivated by other desires. In the Einstein-Russell manifesto of 1955, the need for scientists to work to prevent a nuclear catastrophe was expressed. One result was the international Pugwash movement, which drew together scientists from East, West and South. It was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1995. Another outcome was the creation of IAEA, an international agency for the peaceful use and control of nuclear energy; it received the same prize 10 years after the Pugwash movement. However, the fear of nuclear weapons did not only involve the major powers but became a concern of specific regions: Northeast Asia, South Asia and the Middle East all had nuclear weapon states or states with such ambitions (whether officially acknowledged or not). In the development of peace research, the ethics and practicalities of the nuclear problem resulted in disarmament and arms control research. In this field, studies focus on the twists and turns of arms technology, as well as on proposals for preventing further armaments. This tradition of peace research is now institutionalized, one example being the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) founded in 1966. The basic premise of this work is the need to control (some types of) violence and to question the instrumentality of (some types of) violence and armaments. Nuclear weapons seemed to generate more fear than security. As the nuclear threat was tied to the conflict between East and West, disarmament research had to be global and great-power oriented. The aspiration was to influence disarmament negotiations under UN auspices or in bilateral talks. Interestingly, many disarmament agreements were concluded directly between the major powers themselves, rather than through international treaties and organizations. The verification regimes that emerged in the 1980s and 1990s were vested in

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bilateral agreements. In remarkable contradictions to Machiavellian assumptions, major powers were actually willing to restrict themselves in the acquisition of weapons. States were not maximizing weapons arsenals, but preferred to increase security by reductions of weapons, again a more Utopian idea. Research input became more technical, generating ideas for inspection regimes building on how to discover actual and potential new weapon technologies. The peace researchers dealing with nuclear disarmament were not concerned with the theoretical development of peace research as such. On the other hand, these researchers may have had more impact on policies in this field. Issues concerning test bans and non-proliferation were subject to global agreements. Utopian ideas of building confidence through small steps aimed at gradually changing relations were attempted, for instance, in the European security process during the 1970s and 1980s (Etzioni 1967; Osgood 1962). Practice showed that Utopian ideas could work. At the Stockholm Conference in 1986, East and West agreed to an ‘arsenal’ of such confidence-building measures, all largely being implemented in the following years. Thus, there is now a reservoir of regional confidence-building measures, but almost no research has followed up on their significance or asked whether such measures could work under different regional contexts than the European one. Nuclear weapons were not the only weapons to pose concerns for the scholarly community. Equally important were the conventional, chemical and bacteriological weapons and their production and trade. The non-nuclear arms questions have received attention but have not been strongly linked to arms control efforts, as international arms negotiators during most of the post-1945 period have concentrated on nuclear issues. Instead, this type of research has had a more important role in national debates, in which the purchase, transfer and production of arms have often been contentious issues. A related series of questions concern the importance of armaments for economic issues such as unemployment, industrial profits, regional development and inflation. Such questions have seldom received penetrating analyses among economists, but in peace research they played a role early on. Research showed that armament decisions do not necessarily follow military logic; partly they also had to do with the role of the state. The label ‘military-industrial’ complex was a telling description for the complicated influences on a government constraining its decisions. Thus, disarmament and peace would require a break with the logics of arms races and the influence of military industry. International treaties for arms control and measures of converting military industry into civilian uses were avenues for moving towards peace. An expression of such ideas was the creation the Bonn International Center for Conversion (BICC) in Germany in 1994. It related to the needs of dismantling the large Cold War arsenals accumulated in East and West Germany, but also to what to do with a military production that was no longer needed. Initially, the end of the Cold War meant a reduction of such industrial investments, but it was replaced with the problems of small arms and the international arms trade.

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The peace research methodologies in this field have had more to do with unearthing documentation, finding information in archives and in public sources, and making compilations not found elsewhere. Institutes such as SIPRI and BICC recruited researchers with deep insights into military technology and the sciences connected with nuclear, chemical and biomedical sciences. As the ambition was to find ways out of the dilemmas created by arms races, the concern tended to be practical, although there were attempts at understanding the connections of military expenditures, industrial concerns and political decisions (Melman 1974; Nincic/ Cusak 1979; Rundquist 1978). This strand of research has moved away from a focus on Western industrial countries to new economies (Conca 1997), is rich in information, but remains weak on general theory.

4.4.3

The Cold War Trauma and Conflict Theory

The disarmament research contrasts a third field of inquiry arising as an additional consequence of World War II: the rapid polarization of the conflict between the victorious allies. After only a couple of years, much of Europe was divided into East and West. The joint interest forged during the war against Germany, Italy and Japan was not sufficient to bridge issues of contention among the allies. Furthermore, the new conflict was defined in general terms (democracy versus totalitarianism according to the West, socialism versus capitalism according to the East). Actions were explained in terms of historical lessons, in particular the fear of being deceived by the other and the danger of yielding to an opponent that had only one ambition, namely to establish its own hegemony over the world. The Cold War and the policies of deterrence – becoming nuclear deterrence during the 1950s—influenced the relations among the major powers. The frequent use of historical analogies, particularly Hitler and the agreement in Munich, served to underline the need for a historical study of the causes of war. Also, the generalizations made by the various parties suggested the need to understand how conflict works. Thus, theories of conflict emerged. Through the study of other conflicts and their dynamics, it was hoped that knowledge would be gained to bridge or contain contention between East and West. Much hope was placed in game theory, in particular its ability to illuminate situations in which two parties have difficulty reaching optimal outcomes (such as the security dilemma or stag hunt, and the so-called prisoner’s dilemma). Game theory seemed to suggest that conflicts do not necessarily have to be zero-sum situations, according to which the victory of one is the defeat of the other (Rapoport 1961). Other approaches involved the use of sociological interaction theory, drawing on Homans and Parsons (Deutsch et al. 1957), and the social functions of conflict (Coser 1956). In the peace research journals and centers founded at this time (Journal of Conflict Resolution and the Center for Conflict Resolution, University of Michigan, Journal of Peace Research and the Peace Research Institute, Oslo) considerable thought was given to conflict theory and conflict analysis (Galtung 1959, 1964; Schelling 1969).

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The development of conflict theory and conflict analysis was also the result of an interest in integration. Integration could be studied empirically in Western Europe, but it was also regarded as a way of transcending conflicts between East and West. The concept of a ‘security community’ was used to investigate how former rivals had been able to eliminate the danger of war among them (Deutsch et al. 1957). Theories of détente were developed from integration and conflict studies. Confidence building measures were practical applications of such insights. These new developments of peace research were also a reaction to the narrow intellectual climate during the Cold War years and the simplicity of the deterrence postures. The researchers worried that the origin of wars was to be found in the way the conflicts themselves worked. A fear was that decision makers and public opinion would be trapped in the dynamics of conflict. Thus, deterrence would lead to escalation rather than to containment. Other ways of handling conflicts had to be found. In the models of integration, an underlying idea was that societies would become so strongly intertwined that violence and conflict could be ‘tamed’ – an idea that involved battles with some other issues in Machiavelli’s legacy: the view of violence as the ‘ultimate’ determinant of power and as a way of resolving conflicts. Peace researchers suggested that the dynamics of conflict could be the ultimate determinant and that a state/government might not be in control of the forces released by sharp antagonism. In addition, integration ideas pointed to ways in which economic, cultural and social links could reduce the independence of the state, something that would in turn decrease the likelihood of devastating conflict. One way to transcend the security dilemma was to generate new sources of information. If the parties know what the other side is up to, they can make counter-moves based on knowledge. Thus, a theoretical foundation was found for confidence-building measures that also interested researchers in arms control and nuclear disarmament. It was a way to signal to the opposing sides that ‘we are not planning a war, only doing measures of defense’. This included inviting the other sides to maneuvers, publishing schedules of major military movements and removing certain weapons from border areas. Thus, conflict theory turned out to be a fertile approach, even resulting in special handbooks to bring together the many facets of inquiry (Gurr 1980). The hypotheses drawn from conflict theory were precise and the requirement for data and confirmation led to the need for discussing indicators, measurements and data sources. Thus conflict theory became a significant breakthrough in research and it has found applications far beyond Cold War tensions. In some of the leading countries, the peace researchers of this era were closer to decision-making bodies in some of the leading countries than had been the case previously. The studies of conflict theory and cooperation were in line with the desire to reduce tension during the 1950s and the 1960s, described as times of ‘détente’. It was even proposed that there should be peace specialists, recruited from among the peace researchers, to advise the decision makers (Galtung 1967). However, little came of such ideas except in rather special circumstances. Instead, peace research milieus that built up education and training may have had a stronger

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impact. Students of peace research could later be located in the higher decision echelons, particularly in the Nordic countries.

4.4.4

The Trauma of the Vietnam War and Asymmetric Conflict

The war in Vietnam changed this situation. Many of the peace researchers, as well as many social science researchers, had serious difficulties in analyzing the Vietnam War. In that war a superpower was in conflict with a very poor state, ostensibly for the sake of some not very clearly defined general principles of social order (anti-communism or pro-democracy) as well as for some general principles of social behavior (maintaining credibility of commitments), neither of which had much to do with Vietnam itself. For peace researchers, the Vietnam War became both an intellectual and a moral challenge. It was the most devastating war since peace research had become institutionalized, and it showed that many of the models of peace research were flawed. For instance, peace research theories often assumed that decision makers did not want war but were drawn into it because of uncontrolled escalation and conflict dynamics. It was often taken for granted that decision makers were interested in solutions that would be satisfactory for all involved parties. Leaders were expected to search for the common good, but turned out to pursue their own course without regard to such consequences. The political leaders were, indeed, more Machiavellian than the critics expected and thus the critique did not gain support at the top level. Other forms of influence had to be considered, notably public opinion, popular movements and media. It seemed that democracy was a necessary framework for giving peaceful alternatives a hearing. The Cold War models also assumed that the parties (be they superpowers, alliances, states or regional groupings) were about equal in strength and in responsibility for conflict. Such assumptions were probably largely correct for the East-West conflict, even during its coldest phases (such as the crises over Germany, Berlin and Cuba), but the Vietnam War was different in all respects; for instance, both parties pursued the war to win, not to reach a compromise. Also, how could two unequal parties be treated equally? Perhaps this question was to have the most lasting effect on peace research as it revealed a theoretical emphasis on symmetry between contending parties in a world full of asymmetries. For many researchers the matter of importance became influencing the stronger of the parties, that is the United States, to change its goals. For others, there was not necessarily a contradiction between these two positions. With regard to the development of peace research, the Vietnam War gave rise to a whole set of new questions. How are parties shaped? How do the interests they pursue emerge? What are the relations between different types of interests, for instance, class versus nation? What does sovereignty mean in a world of

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asymmetric economic dependencies? Studies were made on the links between economic dependency and war, military interventions and other military actions. From neo-Marxism as well as classical Marxism, new ideas could be extracted and put to empirical test (Galtung 1971). In this way, the trauma created by the Vietnam War could be turned into a new phase of development for peace research. A lasting effect has been a widening of the agenda of peace research (Wiberg 1988) as the studies of dependence have led to inquiries into the possibility of creating more self-reliant and independent societies. Thus, issues of development theory became linked to peace research, particularly with regard to questions on the role of the military in the development process and on conflict-inducing economic dependencies. For conflict theory, asymmetric conflicts still pose unresolved problems. It is hard to determine how such conflicts could be separated from other conflicts or how they affect the analysis of conflict resolution. Even obvious cases like major power interventions in Third World conflicts could be difficult to define as asymmetrical. The big power could often claim it was ‘assisting’ a legitimate side in an internal conflict, for instance. Thus, it was even suggesting it was redressing an asymmetry in the country. The study of asymmetric conflicts, such as issues between a Global North and Global South, both supplement and contradict some earlier tendencies of peace research. The emphasis on economic factors takes integrationist arguments one step further. Not only are states and governments restrained by economic interests; rather the ultimate power, in some analysis, is located in the economic sphere. What then does the state do? Does control over weaponry provide a state/ government with an independence of its own, or does it only make it a more important target for others to control? The question of sovereignty became another subject of debate for peace research. In the study of international organization and integration, there was an underlying assumption that the independence of the state is an important part of the problem. If only this independence could be restrained, devastating conflicts could be avoided. But the opposite conclusion emerges from studies of dependence and imperialism: peaceful relations can be established only if states are more independent. According to this perspective, dependency results in imbalances that give rise to internal as well as to external conflict, revolutions and interventions. From a conflict resolution perspective, furthermore, independence could be a perfectly plausible solution to some conflicts, for instance ethnic contention. Can this debate be solved simply by saying that integration promotes peace when the parties are equal and leads to conflict when they are unequal? How, then, do we distinguish between symmetric relations and asymmetric ones in a way that makes it possible to predict what solution will have what effect? We could also ask: what is the record? In contemporary Third World societies, which are assumed to be very dependent, we can still see that leaders behave in a highly independent way, in spite of the cobwebs they are entangled in. Coupled to the observation that external powers often are reactive rather than active in many conflicts in Africa and Asia, the issue of the autonomy of states and their leaders comes into a new light. Is it actually possible for major powers to depose a leader if he or she becomes

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inconvenient? The sovereignty issue remains paramount in the way many former colonies view international relations. Thus, even leaders with disturbing records (Amin in Uganda, Mengistu in Ethiopia, Mugabe in Zimbabwe, the military junta in Burma/Myanmar, the Islamic Republic in Iran or Bashir in Sudan) can still count on support from other Third World countries. Indeed, many such leaders display traits in their exertion of power similar to their counterparts in the 1500s. The record of intervention and different forms of intervention is open to analysis, however. There are now a number of databases on such actions, leading to studies of when intervention takes place by whom with what means and with what outcome (Regan/Aydin 2006; Tillema 1989). The debate continues, particularly as issues of humanitarian intervention came forth during the 1990s, in view of the experiences of genocide, which gave new arguments for international action. Still, the normative as well as empirical merits of change through outside intervention were not convincing. The challenge to power, in other words, was more likely to come from inside a society than from outside. Thus, the search for alternative strategies for social change had to turn to unexplored sources. A central concern early on was non-violent resistance. The study of non-violence has been stimulated by the experiences of India and Mahatma Gandhi, which played a role for studies in Europe in the 1950s (Galtung/Naess 1955) and remains important in India. During the 1960s, the civil rights movement in the United States gave rise to studies in many parts of the Western world (Sharp 1973). The Czechoslovakian resistance to the Soviet invasion in 1968 stimulated interest in the notion of civilian defense strategies (Roberts 1986), and in the 1980s, inputs have come from, for instance, the experience of Solidarity (Wehr 1985).2 These were all highly publicized events that directly or indirectly involved major states, but there were also other events. Cases of great societal transformation such as the reformist labor movement in northern Europe have seldom been identified as examples of non-violence, and thus such cases have not played the role they perhaps should in stimulating research. Attempts to bring this research to life are witnessed in work recently published by Cortright (2008, 2009). This is, of course, only one more reminder that several major social changes have come about through peaceful means, notably the decolonization movement as well as the break-up of the Soviet Union. Only a few projects have been devoted to the use of non-violent actions for social change, such as at the Heidelberg Institute for International Conflict Research in Germany (Pfetsch/Rohloff 2000; Stephan/Chenoweth 2008). In the same way, inspiration for alternative forms of action can be found in other emancipatory movements, notably for promoting civil rights, ecological sustainability and feminism. The methods often stemmed from non-violent examples, but there was a constant evolution of techniques, innovation being part of media coverage, success and lately a factor in forming a global civil society (e.g., Smith 2007; Wehr 1979, 1985).

2

See the 1982 special issue of Journal of Peace Research. Vol. 19 No 2.

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As this suggest, these movements were often elements in major transformations of societies, for instance turning away from authoritarian rule to civilian systems. To this category belong studies of protests against war, military regimes, arms production and confrontation with others. It also suggests a major additional field for analysis, namely studies of the developments that follow such transformations (for instance democracy, civilian production, detente-type relations) as well as their durability. Largely, the field has been ripe with cases studies and sometimes with little theoretical coherence. Recent attempts at creating large-scale data collections or doing systematic comparative studies bode well for the future of the field. It is particularly significant as it challenges a Machiavellian emphasis on armed force. Furthermore, there has been limited focus on the regional level. Low-tension areas such as the Nordic and the Pacific regions still need exploration. A regional comparative approach might illuminate the specific Latin American experience of the past 50 years, which has included considerable violence within nations and in relations with extracontinental actors but less among Latin American nations. The idea of a new regionalism (Hettne 1999) captures this need, as do ideas on ‘regional security complexes’ (Buzan/Waever 2003; Wallensteen/Sollenberg 1998). The same is true for the global level, where the dependency theory emanated, but which has often been left outside the analysis. The international asymmetries are striking, however, with a few countries commanding most of the world’s military resources. There is some study into the use of collective decision making (for instance in the UN or the EU) on the use of coercive, but still not directly violent means such as economic sanctions, but these measures have to be compared to military actions for a complete evaluation. Asymmetric conflicts on global, regional, inter-state and intra-state levels remain intellectual and real-life challenges that require further methodological and theoretical development.

4.4.5

The Post-Cold War Period and Peacebuilding Research

The end of the Cold War created a new twist to the problem of sovereignty. The reduction in major power rivalry led to a decrease in external control over particular countries and regimes. Conflicts prolonged by the actions of the West, East and, to a limited extent, China, could be removed from the agenda: peaceful changes took place in Eastern Europe, the Caucasus and Central Asia. Peace agreements were negotiated in Indochina, Southern Africa and Central America. The Middle East saw a peace process of unprecedented quality and commitment (the Oslo process). It seemed like a post-Machiavellian moment. Reasonable conversations were possible to end protracted conflict. In a way the 1990s were reminiscent of the 1920s, when conferences managed to deal with a number of the post-World War I issues resulting from the creation of new states in Eastern Europe.

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At the same time, however, a whole set of new conflicts emerged involving genocide, ethnic cleansing and other vicious deeds (Rwanda, Srebrenica, Darfur). There were experiences of state failure, ethnic antagonism, greedy actors looking for lootable resources, and humanitarian disasters. The state machinery seemed to collapse or lose territorial control. The international community, in a completely novel way, took on the responsibility of managing human-induced disasters. Peacekeeping operations were sent into new complicated situations. Peace agreements were fostered at a historically unprecedented rate. For peace research this posed new challenges, almost having to start from the beginning, but this time dealing with intra-state conflict. What were their causes and how did they compare to what was already known about inter-state relations? The Uppsala Conflict Data Program (UCDP) was well placed to be a data resource as it focused on all conflicts, not just inter-state conflicts that were the chief concern of COW. UCDP data demonstrated that there were more intra-state conflicts than any other form, but also that there was a strong regional involvement. Neighbors often had interests in conflicts across the border. Peace agreements became more frequent, but also had a problem of durability (Harbom et al. 2006). Such protracted and wide challenges of conflict resolution and conflict prevention had few historical counterparts. The need for knowledge made peace research important. The number of centers focusing on intra-state conflict quickly expanded. By the early 2000s there were more than 400 centers doing peace research and teaching programs around the world (PJSA 2010). Issues of negotiation, prevention, mediation, peacekeeping and peacebuilding entered into the research agenda, but also became part of the daily schedules of international institutions, regional organs and civil society organizations. They were part of a new global society, and globalization became the catchword. To some extent this trend reduced the independence of states, but in another way it increased the state’s significance, since collective state actions (for instance in the UN, NATO or EU) also had an impact beyond their own borders. The independence of the state began to take on a completely novel meaning, where the resort to violence no longer was the ultimate source of power, but equally much attention was given to legitimacy, justice, quality and skill in negotiations. In sum, post-Cold War developments challenged the Machiavellian legacy. First, it did so by questioning the inevitability of violence. Negotiation options were often provided, while victory was increasingly uncommon. Second, the instrumentality of violence and ‘hard’ power were challenged and notions of ‘soft power’ gained acceptance (Nye 2004). Wars were increasingly seen as human disasters for the international community to act on, with sympathy for victims, not for political gains. Similarly terrorism did not generate popularity or sustained power to terrorists. Third, violence did not end the wars; instead many seemed protracted or prone to recur. Fourth, the state’s resort to violence was neither determining the outcome nor resolving the conflicts. Fifth, the uniqueness of the state was questioned. Often, popular movements, ethnic or religious groups, commercial companies and non-governmental organizations seemed stronger than the governments. Sixth, this brought attention to a novel phenomenon of state failure and the

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importance of ‘good’ governance issues. The idea of an international responsibility to protect populations, also against their own governments, served to question the meaning of sovereignty and the independence of the states. The Machiavellian assumptions built on the idea of a sovereign, functioning state with stronger coercive, fiscal, territorial and ideological power than any other actor in a society. State failure was not part of the picture. In earlier times, a collapsing state was immediately gobbled up by its neighbors. In the post-Cold War world, however, the prohibition of interference in internal affairs made only collective action legitimate, and it was not always forthcoming or sustainable. Somalia since 1991 became a symbol of an area ‘governed’ without a legitimate and functioning state. Turkey’s invasion of Cyprus in 1974 or Russia’s conflict with Georgia in 2008 resulted in the announcement of new states, but without credibility and thus with little international recognition. The prohibition of intervention remained strong, even if powerful neighbors sought to cover their designs in a more modern disguise. The study of the causes of war had to make a new, fresh start: the study of the origins of internal wars became a new issue. In absolute numbers these wars were more frequent than inter-state conflicts, but it was also more difficult to argue that they all would stem from the same causes, resting in the operation of an inter-state system. The data made cross-national comparisons possible and the first debate posited tensions between studies of greedy actors versus those who saw actors motivated by basic needs or social grievance. Later the debate expanded to include creed (Zartman 2000) into more complex models of multidimensional entrapment (Collier 2009). The methodological richness was also wide, ranging from statistical work to well-selected cases studies, from global and regional concerns to national, ethnic, local and tribal dimensions. But in a way this was full circle from the World War I trauma. There was again a need for data as well as for questioning the established paradigms. The causes were sought with parallel theories, although applied to internal conditions; the Utopian elements had to with the ways peace agreements and peace processes were done. In the late 1990s and early 2000s the concept of peacebuilding after war emerged as a novel point for peace research. The Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies formulated this as a strategic concern for its research (Philpott/Powers 2010). However, the concept and practice of peacebuilding also sparked a debate within peace research on its meaning and justification (Paris 2004; Richmond 2009). In the same way that the causes of international war studies wanted to avoid a repetition of world wars, the study of intra-state conflict was concerned with the prevention of renewed wars in the same state. Similarly, the hope was vested in making agreements among the parties, with the help of negotiations, mediation, arbitration or other means. A particular focus was on conflict prevention and preventive diplomacy. If the causes of intra-state wars were known, it would be possible to develop strategies for structural prevention. Even if the causes were not understood, diplomatic, political and economic actions might be taken to prevent disputes from escalating to armed

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conflict. Indeed, it was soon shown that there were considerable possibilities of preventive action (Lund 1996), but it remained to demonstrate how much activity actually took place and what the effects were. Several studies at Uppsala University showed that there was more activity than many anticipated (Öberg et al. 2009). The effectiveness of preventive activities by third parties remained to be decided, however. Peacebuilding was seen as the actions after a war, prevention as the measures before a conflict escalates. For either concern, armaments were important. Arms trade would be an indication of brewing trouble, before a conflict and definitely during one. Arms embargoes would be a way of dealing with conflicts throughout these phases. The record was still not overwhelming (Brzoska 2008; Fruchart et al. 2007). Establishing intra-state peace would require programs for dealing with disarming rebels and transparency of the security sector. Thus, studies on these issues began to emerge, generating new insights of importance for strategic peacebuilding (Humphreys/Weinstein 2007; Nilsson 2008; Weinstein 2005). Peace-building issues also involved a gender dimension (Olsson 2007). Women were part of the population that had generally been overlooked in previous research and their role as victims and as part of conflict actors (female combatants) was highlighted. Women also had a legitimate security concern. With the concept of security equality, Olsson sought to bring attention to this, not least by studying how international peacekeeping missions were striving to achieve protection for all citizens, not just a select few. There are strong reasons to incorporate gender analysis into peace research as well as practical strategies, since gender equality in society is generally connected to durable peace and human rights (Melander 2005). The concern of intra-state peace led to a remarkable enlargement of the peace research agenda. Entirely new phenomena came under scrutiny, such as violence and peace processes (Höglund 2008), reconciliation (Brounéus 2008), involvement of rebel groups and civil society (Nilsson 2006) and the quality of government (Fjelde 2009). Notions of ethnic security dilemmas (Melander 1999) and the rationale behind rebel strategies (Hultman 2008; Kalyvas 2006; Lilja 2010) seemed to rely on the Machiavellian assumptions for understanding intra-state politics. But the focus was on finding routes to peace, in a broad sense. All the studies were contributions to understanding the creation of a society that would be less conflict prone. For peace researchers there was a hope to prevent further traumas, for policy makers a concern to avoid further humanitarian tragedies. The many ways to peace that were embarked upon, however, suggested that there was not one overarching idea that has – as of yet – crystallized as the crucial one. Different approaches remain to deal with a multi-faceted complexity not previously faced by social and political sciences: which were the factors that made a society at the same time stable and dynamic? The attacks on the United States on September 11, 2001 came as a surprise given the strong emphasis on negotiations and preventive actions. It provided a new global trauma that affected the peace research agenda. It rapidly led to renewed military actions by the US and the US defense budget again began to rise. The US

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proclaimed war on terrorism and the invasion on Iraq in 2003 followed a different logic than the typical post-Cold War actions that world had witnessed hitherto. It was a return to some of the Machiavellian dictums. The new political consensus was a throwback to the assumption about the inevitability of violence. The maxim seemed now to be: ‘it is better to use force first; strike hard early and you will win; remain firm and you will prevail’, but the critique was there: using force invites more opposition; victory today is more difficult than ever. To remain on the same course makes you not only appear determined, but also stubborn without necessarily providing the conditions for success. Machiavellian thinking returned, but under new circumstances. Force was again seen as the final arbitrator, and there was no space for negotiation. The state had to be strong and forceful, using all necessary means, ranging from war to deceit. Intellectually and politically this resulted in an analytical bifurcation. There were now two worlds. One dealt with internal armed conflicts as local issues, solved through negotiation and dialogue, involving as many actors as possible. This was a continuation of the approach developed during the first post-Cold War period. The other one dealt with conflicts defined as part of the campaign against terrorism, where none of these features mattered, only victory and security (in particular for the state hosting the conflict). Policy making in conflicts defined to be part of the struggle between the USA and al-Qaida (and copycats) was uncompromising, while international policy making in all other conflicts followed an approach of third-party negotiations, mediation and agreements. The bifurcation seemed to exist also in the academic communities. The terrorism researchers appeared as a distinct group with their own logics, methods and rules for providing evidence. Peace researchers’ focus on finding constructive solutions was different, but seemed less relevant in facing terrorism. In fact, it was not. It was left to well-trained researchers to determine what might be the real origins of terrorism. The questions were many: could the causes be found in a legacy of unsolved conflicts, flawed agreements, economically skewed development, repressive regimes, easy access to weapons and finance? These were factors that seemed to explain other internal wars. Or were there some other factors as well, such as the psychology of the perpetrators, fanaticism, ideological postures, sect-like networks, or rational calculations that were indifferent to human suffering? The effect of September 11, 2001 on peace research was, perhaps, not as strong as might be expected. The underlying problems were already defined. But in the public discourse, it provided a return to Machiavellian assumptions.

4.5

Traumas, Hopes and the Future of Peace Research

Peace research has had its inspiration from two different sources. On the one hand, analyses of some of humankind’s major disasters have prompted a reconsideration of some of the basic, traditional explanations. Conventional thinking has been challenged and new sets of research topics have appeared.

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On the other hand, futuristic and Utopian ideas – formed by thinkers, politicians, and researchers alike – have provided a pool of ideas for theoretical and empirical study. Increasingly, peace research is forming its own traditions and finding its own way forward. Theories, data and methods are being developed to increasingly sharpen the questions under investigation, the rules of providing evidence and the conclusions. The history of peace research suggests that the traumatic experiences of humankind have come first and formed the agenda. The unique feature of peace research is, however, the immediate search for alternatives, thus invoking Utopian ideas, making them researchable and possible as options for policy. The traumas associated with the major wars and conflagrations of the 20th century have enlarged the scope of peace research by forcefully drawing attention to different types of conflicts. This attention has led to debate and a reconsideration of older propositions and assumptions of peace research. The widening scope means an increased awareness of complexity. A pertinent question is how wide peace research should become. The hopes provided by the positive developments in the world have given inspiration to research on the conditions for peace, which have also developed into major and long-term research projects. Again, new traditions of scholarly inquiry are being created. In this case, the two strands might be suitable ‘correctives’ to one another: to make sure that scholarly standards are kept but also that a larger perspective is maintained. During this first century of peace research, considerable developments have taken place. Peace research has demonstrated that peace is researchable. It requires new methods, new ways of collecting data and new ways of analyzing them. Peace research has been in the forefront of generating information on wars, peace efforts, preventive actions, sanctions and nonviolent measures. It has been the basis for moving research forward into the strengths and limits of the peace-building qualities of democracy, international integration and international organizations. Still, many issues have not been penetrated at all; some have only been approached lightly and research has concentrated only on certain fields. The need for peace research can no longer be questioned. One message has been clearly demonstrated. There were a number of researchable questions that were left untouched in universities and other research milieus throughout the world until the advent of the peace researcher. This has been true for each of the periods we have looked at, including the latest ones, where questions were raised on peacebuilding. Peace research has taken a place within higher education and frontline research. Modern universities now include a special department for peace and conflict research. This institutionalization of peace research has led not only to students with BAs and MAs leaving university with a solid training in the subjects of peace and conflict. The doctoral programs have resulted in the turning of more stones. Empirical research continues to challenge conventional wisdoms.

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Summary

• Peace research has now existed for almost a century as a separate and identifiable academic activity. • Peace research has been particularly open to the use of the most recent methodological developments. • Peace research interacts with practical concerns for peace, which means it has expanded its range of topics, largely as an expression of concerns over large-scale traumatic events. • The past century has been strongly marked by violent conflicts such as World War I and II, Hiroshima, the Cold War, the Vietnam War, and the challenges of the post-Cold War era, which means that peace research deals with the fundamental issues shaping the course of the planet. • Peace research has been an arena where many policy issues have first found scholarly analysis, as is seen in concepts such as causes of war, conflict theory, confidence-building, conflict resolution, democratic peace, targeted sanctions, conflict prevention and peace-building.

References Bloch, Ivan de. 1899. The Future of War. New York: Doubleday and McClure. Brounéus, Karen 2008. Rethinking Reconciliation: Concepts, Methods and an Empirical Study of Truth Telling and Psychological Healing in Rwanda. Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research. Brzoska, Michael 2008. “Measuring the Effectiveness of Arms Embargoes”, Peace Economics, Peace Science and Public Policy, 14 (2). Art 2. Buzan, Barry and Ole Waever 2003. Regions and Powers. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Collier, Paul (2009) Wars, Guns and Votes. Democracy in Dangerous Places. HarperCollins. Cortright, David 2009. Gandhi and Beyond: Nonviolence for a New Political Age, Second Edition (Paradgim). Cortright, David 2008. Peace: A History of Movements and Ideas. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Coser, Lewis. 1956. The Functions of Social Conflict. New York: Free Press. Derriennic, Jean-Pierre. 1972. “Theory and Ideologies of Violence.” Journal of Peace Research 9:4, pp. 361–374. Deutsch, Karl W., et al. 1957. Political Community and the North Atlantic Area: International Organization in the Light of Historical Experience. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Diehl, Paul F. 1983. “Arms Races and Escalation: A Closer Look”. Journal of Peace Research, 20 (3): 205–212. Eliasson, Jan and Peter Wallensteen, 2005. “Preventive Diplomacy” in The Adventure of Peace. Dag Hammarskjöld and the Future of the UN, ed Sten Ask and Ann Mark-Jungkvist, Stockholm pp. 286–297. Etzioni, Amitai 1967. “The Kennedy Experiment ”. The Western Political Quarterly, 20 (2) (June): 361–380.

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Farmer, Paul 2004. “An Anthropology of Structural Violence.” Current Anthropology, 45 (1): 305–325. Fruchart, Damien, Paul Holtom, Siemon T. Wezeman, Daniel Strandow and Peter Wallensteen, 2007. United Nations Arms Embargoes. Their Impact on Arms Flows and Target Behaviour SIPRI and Uppsala University; SPITS: Department of Peace and Conflict Research. Galtung, Johan 1959. “Pacifism from a Sociological Point of View.” Journal of Conflict Resolution 3:1, pp. 67–84. Galtung, Johan 1964. “A Structural Theory of Aggression.” Journal of Peace Research 11:2, pp. 95–119. Galtung, Johan 1965. “International Programs of Behavioral Science: Research in Human Survival.” In M. Schwebel, ed., Behavioral Science and Human Survival. Palo Alto, Calif.: Science and Behavior Books. Galtung, Johan 1967. “Peace Research: Science or Politics in Disguise?” International Spectator, vol. 21. Also in Johan Galtung, Essays in Peace Research, vol. 1, Peace: Research, Education, Action, pp. 224–243. Copenhagen: Ejlers, 1975. Galtung, Johan 1969. “Violence, Peace, and Peace Research.” Journal of Peace Research 6:3, pp. 167–191. Galtung, Johan 1971. “A Structural Theory of Imperialism.” Journal of Peace Research, 8:2, pp. 81–117. Galtung, Johan, and Arne Naess. 1955. Gandhis Politiske Etikk. Oslo: Tanum. Gantzel, Klaus Jiirgen, et al. 1986. Die Kriege nach dem Zweiten Weltkrieg bis 1984. Munich: Weltforum. Gochman, Charles, and Zeev Maoz. 1984. “Militarized Interstate Disputes, 1816–1976.” Journal of Conflict Resolution 28:4, pp. 585–616. Gronow, Jukka, and Jorma Hilppo. 1970. “Violence, Ethics, and Politics.” Journal of Peace Research 7:4, pp. 311–320. Gurr, Ted R. 1980. Handbook of Political Conflict. New York: Simon and Schuster. Hettne, Björn et al. (eds) 1999. Globalism and the New Regionalism, Palgrave Macmillan. Hobbes, Thomas, 1651. The Leviathan. Humphreys, Macartan and Jeremy M. Weinstein 2007. “Demobilization and Reintegration”. Journal of Conflict Resolution 51:4, pp. 531–67. Höglund, Kristine and Mimmi Söderberg Kovacs 2010. ‘”Beyond the absence of war: the diversity of peace in post-settlement societies.” Review of International Studies, 36, pp. 367–390. Ibn Khaldun, 1958. The Muqaddimah: An Introduction to History. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Journal of Peace Research. 1964. Editorial, 1:1, pp. 1–4. Journal of Peace Research. 1981. Special Issue on Theories of Peace. Vol. 18, no. 2. Journal of Peace Research. 1982. Special Issue on Poles on Poland. Vol. 19, no. 2. Kalyvas, Stathis N. 2006. The Logic of Violence in Civil War. Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press. Kant, Immanuel 1795, 2003, To Perpetual Peace. A Philosophical Sketch, transl. by Ted Humphrey (Indianpolis: Hackett). Kautilya, 1992. The Arthashastra, Edited, Rearranged, Translated and Introduced by LN Rangarajan, Penguin Books, New Delhi, New York. Kende, Istvan. 1971. “Twenty-Five Years of Local Wars.” Journal of Peace Research 8:1, pp. 5– 22. Machiavelli, Niccolo. 1975. The Prince. Translated by George Bull. Rev. ed. Harmondsworth, Eng.: Penguin Books. Macmillan, Margaret 2003. Paris 1919. New York: Random House. Marcus Aurelius Antonius, 2004. Meditations. Melander, Erik 2005. Political Gender Equality and State Human Rights Abuse. Journal of Peace Research 2:42, pp. 149–166. Melman, Seymour 1974. The Permanent War Economy. New York: Simon & Schuster. Morgenthau, Hans J. 1973. Politics Among Nations. 5th ed. New York: Alfred Knopf.

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More, Thomas [1516], Utopia. Nincic, Miroslav and Thomas R. Cusack 1979. “The Political Economy of US Military Spending”. Journal of Peace Research, 16:2, pp. 101–115. Nilsson, Andes 2008. Dangerous Liasions. Why Ex-Combatants Return to Violence. Cases from the Republic of Congo and Sierra Leone. Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research. Nilsson, Desirée 2006. In the Shadow of Settlement. Multiple Rebel Groups and Precarious Peace. Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research. Nye, Jospeh. S. 2004. Soft Power. The Means to Success in World Politics. New York: Public Affairs. Öberg, Magnus, Frida Möller and Peter Wallensteen 2009. “Early Conflict Prevention in Ethnic Crises, 1990–98: A New Dataset”, Conflict Management and Peace Science 26:1, pp. 67–91. Olsson, Louise 2007. Equal Peace. United Nations Peace Operations and the Power-Relations between men and women in Timor-Leste. Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research. Osgood, Charles E. 1962. An alternative to war or surrender. Urbana, IL: University of Urbana Press Paris, Roland 2004. At War’s End: Building Peace after Civil Conflict. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pfetsch, Frank R. and Christoph Rohloff 2000. “KOSIMO: A New Databank on Political Conflicts”. Journal of Peace Research 37:3, pp. 379–391. Philpott, Daniel and Gerard F. Powers (ed) 2010. Strategies of Peace. Oxford: Oxford University Press. PJSA Global Directory of Peace Studies and Conflict Resolution programs, website visited, May 2010. Pontara, Giuliano. 1978. “The Concept of Violence.” Journal of Peace Research 15:1, pp. 19–32. Rapoport, Anatol. 1961. Games, Fights, and Debates. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Regan, Patrick M. and Aysegul Aydin 2006 “Diplomacy and Other Forms of Intervention in Civil Wars”. Journal of Conflict Resolution 50:5, pp. 736–756. Richardson, Lewis F. 1960. Statistics of Deadly Quarrels. Chicago: Quadrangle Books. Richmond, Oliver 2009. A post-liberal peace: Eirenism and the everyday. Review of International Studies, 35, pp. 557–580. Roberts, Adam. 1986. Nations in Arms: The Theory and Practice of Territorial Defence. 2d ed. Basingstoke: Macmillan. Rundquist, Barry S. 1978. On Testing a Military Industrial Complex Theory”. American Politics Research 6, pp. 29–53. Russett, Bruce M. 1993. Grasping the Democratic Peace. Principles for a Post-Cold War World. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Russett, Bruce M. and John R. Oneal. 2001. Triangulating Peace: Democracy, Interdependence, and International Organizations. New York: WW: Norton. Schmid, Herman. 1968. “Politics and Peace Research.” Journal of Peace Research 5:3, pp. 217– 232. Schelling, Thomas 1969. The Strategy of Conflict. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Sharp, Gene. 1973. Politics of Nonviolent Action. Boston: Sargent. Singer, J. David 1969. “The Incompleat Theorist: Insight Without Evidence” in Klaus Knorr and James N. Rosenau (eds). Contending Approaches to International Politics. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 62–86. Singer, J. David, ed. 1979. The Correlates of War-. I. Research Origins and Rationale. New York: Free Press. Small, Melvin, and J. David Singer. 1982. Resort to Arms: International and Civil Wars, 1816– 1980. Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage Publications. Smith, Jackie 2007. Social Movements for Global Democracy. Johns Hopkins University Press 2007. Sorokin, Pitirim A. 1937. Social and Cultural Dynamics, vol. 3. New York: Bedminster Press.

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Chapter 5

The Uppsala Code of Ethics for Scientists Bengt Gustafsson, Lars Rydén, Gunnar Tibell, and Peter Wallensteen

Abstract The Uppsala Code is the result of a cross-disciplinary effort to respond to the ethical challenges that may rise from the practical uses of research results. In particular, the code takes up the consequences for peace and war, and for the environment. It is argued that researchers have to face these responsibilities and the code gives guidance for how to do this. The Uppsala Code was published in 1984 and remains unique in dealing with ethical consequences of research findings.

5.1

Ethical Problems in Research

What can we do to stop the armament race and promote peace? And in particular, what can we scientists do? The obvious risk for nuclear disaster makes it necessary for any scientist to scrutinize his/her own resources, and to try new unconventional ways to contribute to global disarmament and a reasonable future.1 One of these resources is the scientist’s own personal appreciation of right and wrong, i.e. our ethics. In the following we shall describe an attempt to mobilize this resource in order to affect the choice of research field and applica-tion of research. At Uppsala University a small group of scientists has met regularly since 1981 to penetrate ethical problems of research. The variety of disciplines represented (natural sciences, medicine, social sciences, technology, law, theology) has greatly contributed to making the meetings fruitful. From an early stage, the seminar has attempted to formulate a code of ethics for scientists. A first proposal for such a code was circulated in late 1982 and, based on the debate that followed, the seminar published a final version of the code in early 1984 (see Box 5.1).

1

Written by Bengt Gustafsson, Lars Rydén, Gunnar Tibell and Peter Wallensteen. Originally published in Journal of Peace Research 1984, Vol. 21 (4): 311–316. Republished with permission. Several of the studies carried out by the seminar on Ethics in the Sciences have received support from a grant made available by the Swedish Department of Foreign Affairs in connection with the work of the United Nations Expert Group on Military Research and Development.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_5

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As scientists involved in this endeavour, we would like to present the code and discuss some questions of principle that have been repeatedly raised in the seminar, within Uppsala University, in the media, and in discussions with colleagues internationally (Gustafsson 1984; Tibell 1984). First, however, let us make clear that, to our knowledge, there exists no similar code of ethics for scientists. Obviously, there are a number of codes or similar statements concerning the ethics of research; they can probably be counted in the hundreds (Rydén 1984). None of them seems to correspond directly to the aims of the Uppsala seminar. The great majority of statements are research guidelines, that is, they refer to the ethics of conducting research, for instance, the use of human subjects in medical research. An early example is the Nuremburg Code prompted by the use of science in Nazi Germany (Mappes/Zembaty 1981). There are also codes of ethics or of conduct within professional associations. Mostly such codes refer to the professional in question and his/her relations to clients, for instance, the Hippocratic oath, which deals with the relationship between doctors and patients. In a few cases, a paragraph or a sentence in the preamble concerns the relationship between the professional and society at large. The statements are usually very general, such as “Members should use their knowledge and skill for the advancement of human welfare” (Chalk et al. 1980, see also Bulletin of Peace Proposals 1975). Similar statements are found in proposed codes that have been published, for instance, in the general sections of inter-disciplinary journals. In the work of the Uppsala seminar such general statements have not been found very useful. A code should give some details about the responsibility of the scientist and some advice on how to act when an ethical dilemma arises. It is worth noting that we have not found a single code mentioning the ethical aspects of weapons development. The reason might be understood from the experience of one of the working groups of Pugwash, meeting in Varna in 1978. Some members suggested that scientists should, in principle, refuse to work in military research, or even stop working in basic research that might one day have military significance. The proposal was not adopted since some military research was considered necessary for defensive purposes and because in some cases basic research has important peaceful applications (Rotblat 1984). Such remarks give some essentials of the arguments against a code restricting the development of weapons. Box 5.1: Text of the Uppsala Code of Ethics for Scientists (1984) Scientific research is an indispensable activity of great significance to mankind — for our description and understanding of the world, our material conditions, social life, and welfare. Research can contribute to solving the great problems facing humanity, such as the threat of nuclear war, damage to the environment, and the uneven distribution of the Earth’s resources. In addition, scientific research is justified and valuable as a pure quest for knowledge, and it should be pursued in a free exchange of methods and

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findings. Yet research can also, both directly and indirectly, aggravate the problems of mankind. This code of ethics for scientists has been formulated as a response to a concern about the applications and consequences of scientific research. In particular it appears that the potential hazards deriving from modern technological warfare are so overwhelming that it is doubtful whether it is ethically defensible for scientists to lend any support to weapons development. The code is intended for the individual scientist; it is primarily he or she who shall assess the consequences of his/her own research. Such an assessment is always difficult to make, and may not infrequently be impossible. Scientists do not as a rule have control over either research results or their application, or even in many cases over the planning of their work. Nevertheless this must not prevent the individual scientist from making a sincere attempt to continually judge the possible consequences of his/her research, to make these judgements known, and to refrain from such research as he/she deems to be unethical. In this connection the following should particularly be considered: 1. Research shall be so directed that its applications and other consequences do not cause significant ecological damage. 2. Research shall be so directed that its consequences do not render it more difficult for present and future generations to lead a secure existence. Scientific efforts shall therefore not aim at applications or skills for use in war or oppression. Nor shall research be so directed that its consequences conflict with basic human rights as expressed in international agreements on civic, political, economic, social and cultural rights. 3. The scientist has a special responsibility to assess carefully the consequences of his/her research, and to make them public. 4. Scientists who form the judgement that the research which they are conducting or participating in is in conflict with this code, shall discontinue such research, and publicly state the reasons for their judgement. Such judgements shall take into consideration both the probability and the gravity of the negative consequences involved. It is of urgent importance that the scientific community support colleagues who find themselves forced to discontinue their research for the reasons given in this code. N.B. The code consists of both the introductory text and the four points. We shall be grateful if, in any publication, the four points are not separated from their context. Uppsala, Sweden (January 1984)

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The Responsibility of Scientists

The idea that an individual is responsible for the (long-term) consequences of his/ her actions as a basis for moral judgment has gained wide acceptance. But the Uppsala code of ethics goes beyond that. It rests upon the idea that the scientist is, at least to some extent, responsible for how his/her findings are put to use in society — by others. This view seems to be shared by many scientists (e.g. Hård af Segerstad 1984; Tibell 1984), although others keep to the more classical view that freedom of research is unduly hindered if individual scientists should take the possible consequences of their research into consideration. An important objection to requiring such a responsibility is the difficulty involved in judging the consequences of research. The situation is different in basic and applied research, but even in the latter case it may often be impossible to foresee the consequences within, say, ten years after the research has been carried out. Sometimes, however, important practical consequences become apparent quite soon after a discovery has been made in basic research. As an example one could mention the applications of the fission reaction discovered in 1938 by Hahn and Strassmann and published in Naturwissenschaften in early 1939. Only a few months later a French team, led by Frederic Joliot-Curie found that in the process several neutrons were emitted, thus making a chain reaction possible. In a surprisingly short time these two discoveries led to the construction of the first nuclear reactor, in 1942, by Fermi and his collaborators. In another three years, the first nuclear bombs were made and detonated over Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It is not probable that Hahn and Strassmann could foresee this development. Even Niels Bohr in 1939 gave ‘fifteen weighty reasons why, in his opinion, practical exploitation of the fission process would be improbable’ (Jungk 1958). If we go back another 20–30 years, Rutherford, the father of nuclear physics, is said to have mentioned that he believed that nothing of practical value would ever come out of his research (Kapitsa in Tibell 1984). One must remember, however, that the military goal would not have been reached in such a short time without the enormous concentration of brains and money in the lavishly supported Manhattan project. To mention another area, medical research, it is conceivable that a scientist working, for instance, on diagnostic methods can predict that ethical dilemmas will appear for doctors and patients quite soon after a new method has been introduced. Just as was the case in the application of the fission reaction, so in the medical field, once the scientific efforts have reached the applied stage, it may happen that research will go on parallel with discussions on the moral consequences. The Uppsala code assumes that scientists have a responsibility and that they should attempt to estimate the practical consequences of their research. The Uppsala code has a number of additional features that we would like to comment on:

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1. The code is intended for the individual scientist. 2. The code specifically addresses questions of ecology and war. 3. The code is largely based on negative formulations of the type ‘thou shalt not…’. 4. The code explicitly specifies actions to be taken in case of ethically doubtful research, notably the duty to inform.

5.3

Individual Responsibility

There are several reasons for confining the code to use by the individual scientist only. We consider the ethical dilemmas that the code addresses to be personal ones; they are matters of conscience. If the code were adopted by a university or a similar authority, it would fall into the category of laws enforced by governmental bodies. The individual scientist would no longer have the same obligation to take a personal stand. It would all be done for him/her, not by him/her. We ourselves do not feel competent to judge whether other people are unethical or not. Also, if judgments were to be made in court-like proceedings, details regarding the ethical rules would have to be worked out, which certainly would require considerable efforts. Finally, it would be a complicated process for any organization to adopt a code of ethics of this kind. An interesting example is the discussion at the University of Michigan, where an entire procedure was outlined for the scrutiny of research applications in order to restrict military-related research. The proposal gained considerable support within the university but was ultimately turned down by the Board of Regents (see, inter alia, Report from the Research Policy Committee 1983). The individual researcher is, at least in principle, free to disengage himself/herself from such research at any time.

5.4

Ecology and War

It is necessary to spell out some implications for research in two fields of particular importance. First, there are the ecological consequences. It very soon became evident in our discussions that the ethics of ecological consequences is a question of judgement. All research may have at least some ecological consequence for our environment. Which of these effects should be considered ethically acceptable? In most people’s opinion it is not immoral per se to endanger the existence of a species, a life form. The extinction of the smallpox virus (which has been accomplished except for some frozen samples) was carried out with the help of science, and is probably beneficial for everyone except the virus. The extinction of the malaria parasite would certainly be considered a great accomplishment, if ever

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realized. We finally decided to suggest a formulation (‘… do not cause significant ecological damage’), which leaves most of the burden of judgment to the individual. The most controversial statement in the code concerns research for war preparations. However, this has been at the heart of the seminar’s concern from the beginning. We agree with J.D. Bernal’s statement that for scientists … the application of science to war is the worst prostitution of their profession. More than anything else the question of science and war has made scientists look beyond the field of their own inquiries and discoveries to the social uses to which these discoveries are put (Bernal 1967, p. 186).

However, everyone wants to live in an autonomous or free country and as a consequence most people, whether scientists or not, consider armed defence necessary. If this is a higher value than that of not contributing to war, it may be immoral not to give the national defence the best possibilities and conduct research to achieve that. Our point is that the relative priorities of these two values should be affected by the fact that the world now has come to the brink of a globally destructive war. In the present situation additional armaments seem to enhance insecurity rather than promote security. If so, the situation prompts a discussion on finding solutions to achieve overriding aims (such as human survival) as well as questions of ethics. Even if most scientists were to accept military research as such, their personal attitude to this activity would probably be ethically balanced. For instance, for ethical reasons, most researchers would abstain from developing chemical and biological weapons, even if these were to be very ‘useful’ for defending their own country in a war. Likewise many scientists would agree that further addition of nuclear weapons or new space weapons is not in the interest of their country (regardless what country), while there was a near-consensus on the necessity of developing the first atom bomb. One way to codify a balanced attitude to military research would be to differentiate between defensive and offensive wars. However, we have not found a simple way of doing this. It is not obvious what constitutes an offensive war or what could become such a war. Nor is it clear what would be a defensive weapon or if such weapons contribute to making our world more secure (Jervis 1978). The recently initiated debate on defensive force structures might, however, also result in new ways of making a distinction between offensive and defensive of relevance for the scientists’ dilemma (cf. Journal of Peace Research, no. 2, 1984). The seminar has chosen to retain in the code a paragraph regarding war, but again leaves the burden of judgment to the individual. Due to the gravity of the global situation our formulation (‘… scientific efforts shall not aim at applications or skills for use in war’) is rather categorical, but it may suggest that some aggressive intent has to be involved.

5.5 Negative or Positive Code?

5.5

111

Negative or Positive Code?

A frequent reaction to the code has been that positive rules would be preferable: a code should state what scientists should do rather than what they should not. The seminar has, however, decided against positive formulations for several reasons. The fundamental one is that science is usually not driven by ethical convictions or rules. Rather, it is the autonomous search for knowledge and abilities that motivates research. The major part of research might not have identifiable ethical consequences, such as developing a new theory in mathematics or physics. What is required is a specification of the limits of scientific activity, not proposals to direct it. Furthermore, positive formulations that have been suggested seem to encounter many difficulties. Such is true for Hutton’s recent proposal, which, having stated in positive terms what scientists should do, also includes the phrase “scientists shall boycott the work on developments that seem to have negative consequences for man” (Hutton 1983). It seems more complicated to adhere to a positive code, and certainly such implications as suggested do have far-reaching consequences for all academic activity. A possibility would be to mix positive and negative formulations, as in a proposal from a Pugwash group meeting in Oxford 1972: “I will not use my scientific training for any purpose which I believe is intended to harm human beings. I shall strive for peace, justice, freedom and the betterment of the human conditions” (Rotblat 1984).2 The mixture, however, does not solve any of the problems.

5.6

Duty to Inform

When a scientist finds his/her own work unethical he/she should interrupt it. The Uppsala code, however, also requires that the decision and the reason for it should be made public. Although a considerable fraction of the world’s scientists work in situations where their work is secret, it is interesting to note that this requirement of the code has met with almost unanimous approval. Scientists in East and West have stated that they have special responsibilities to inform about research results, make them understandable to a wider public, and also explain their consequences (Hutton 1983; Tibell 1984). An instructive demonstration of how this could work out in practice was provided by the recombinant DNA case. The discovery of the possibility of artificial gene transfer from any organism to bacteria was made in 1972. It was followed by a moratorium of several years on major uses of this technique and a prolonged public debate. A lesson to be learned is that a public

The first sentence was proposed by Professor Harald Wergeland, Trondheim, as a suggestion for a pledge to be adopted by scientists.

2

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debate needs an informed public and that considerable efforts are needed to convey the important facts to the layman. Certainly, this also applies to other areas such as the nuclear arms issues. Our aim in publishing the code of ethics is twofold. First, of course, we hope that it will be useful to many individual scientists as a guide, stimulating critical appreciation of their own activities, and as a support in case some of these are ethically unacceptable. Secondly, we hope that it will contribute to the debate on the roles of science and scientists in our world. Perhaps these roles should be changed, as one of many changes that are necessary if we want to create a more satisfactory world.

References Bernal, John D. 1967. The Social Functions of Science. Cambridge, Mass: MIT Press. Bulletin of Peace Proposals 1975, no. 2. Chalk, R., M.S. Frankl and S.B. Chafer. 1980. AAAS Professional Ethics Project. Washington, D. C.: American Association for the Advancement of Science. Gustafsson, Bengt. 1984. The Uppsala Code of Ethic for Scientists: Discussing and Working on the Code of Ethics, 1983–1984. Seminar on Ethics in the Sciences, Uppsala University. Hutton, D.R. 1983. The Peace Education Role of Scientists and Technologists, Paper to the Seminar on Peace, Science and Technology, UN University, Tokyo. Hård af Segerstad, Peder. 1984. Research and Ethics. An Investigation of Swedish Researcher Attitudes toIssues of Research Ethics. Seminar on Ethics in the Sciences, Uppsala University. Jervis, Robert. 1978. ‘Cooperation under the Security Dilemma’, World Politics, vol. 30, no. 2, January, pp. 167–214. Journal of Peace Research 1984, no. 2. Special Issue on Alternative Defense. Jungk, Robert. 1958. Brighter than a Thousand Stars. NY: Harcourt & Brace. Mappes, T.A. and Zembarty, J.S. eds. 1981. Biomedical Ethics. NY: McGraw-Hill. Report of the Research Policies Committee 1983. Review of Non-Classified Research. Ann Arbor, Michigan: University of Michigan, March 9. Rotblat, Joseph. 1984. Digest of Pugwash Discussions Relating to Working Group 6 — Public Opinion and Arms Control, for the 34th Pugwash Annual Conference, Björkliden, Sweden. Rydén. Lars. 1984. Ethical Rules in Basic and Applied Research. Seminar on Ethics in the Sciences, Uppsala University. Tibell, Gunnar. 1984. Ten Interviews with Scientists on Research and Ethics. Seminar on Ethics in the Sciences, Uppsala University.

B

Refining Sanctions

Sanctions researchers meeting in the UN in New York 2007. Front row: me, George Lopez, Sue Eckert; Middle row: Maria Telalian, Loraine Rickard-Martin, Erica Cosgrove, David Cortright, Steve Avedon and Joseph Stephanides; Back row: Michael Brzoska, Mikael Eriksson, and Curtis Ward. Tom Biersteker is missing. Photo: With permission from the Kroc Institute of International Peace Studies, University of Notre Dame

Chapter 6

Characteristics of Economic Sanctions Peter Wallensteen

Abstract This is Peter Wallensteen’s first academic publication (1968), and it is also the first systematic, statistical treatment of economic sanctions and their ability in achieving compliance. By selecting ten comparable cases, identifying around fifty possible explanations of the outcomes and exposing them to a statistical test, Wallensteen is able to point to a few crucial variables that can serve as a guide for the efficacy of this non-military instrument in achieving change.

6.1

Introduction

The study of of economic sanctions is naturally related to contemporary events. During the 1960’s there has been a tense debate on the issue with special regard to the problems of Southern Africa.1 While economic sanctions have been seen, by many, as the way to handle the situation, it is my feeling that the debate has been unrealistic and too optimistic. Importantly, there has been little study made of the cases of economic sanctions which in fact are to be found. It is significant that the

1

This article is part of the author’s thesis at the Institute of Political Science, Uppsala University, but has its main sources of inspiration from the International Peace Research Institute, Oslo, and from the Peace Research Seminar at Uppsala University. It can be identified as PRIO-publication 20-7. Valuable criticism and useful suggestions have come out of discussions at these institutions and I am grateful for interest, comments, and fruitful ideas from many persons, particularly Johan Galtung, as well as Teddy Barkhagen, and my wife Lena. This article is also a revised version of papers presented at the Nordic Sanctions Research Conference, Sigtuna, Sweden, April 27, 1968; and at the Third Nordic Peace Research Conference, Örenäs, Sweden, May 20, 1968. This research has been made possible thanks to research grants from Uppsala University Graduation Fund and from the Political Science Association, Uppsala. The Swedish-Norwegian Cooperation Fund and the Office for Cultural Exchange, Norwegian Department of Foreign Affairs financed a long and stimulating stay in Oslo, spring 1967. Published as “Characteristics of Economic Sanctions,” Journal of Peace Research, 1968, Vol. 5, no 3, 248–267. Republished with permission. © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_6

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papers delivered at a conference on this topic in 1964 to a large extent resemble papers published in 1932.2 Some investigations exist, but to my knowledge only two are of a more general character. Taubenfeld and Taubenfeld have published a study ‘The Economic Weapon: The League and the United Nations’, dealing with the effects of economic sanctions and based upon the cases of Italy, Cuba, Dominican Republic, China, and South Africa.3 This, however, focuses mainly on cases where sanctions have been instituted to counter military ‘aggression’; and this, in fact, leads to a penetration only of the cases of Italy and (somewhat) China. The basis for general conclusions is thus weak, and a more serious comparison must be carried out to validate the trends found by them. The second study is entirely based on the case of Rhodesia and was initiated by Johan Galtung in early 1966.4 Before going further we must define the concept of economic sanctions and distinguish it from other related concepts. Consequently the following typology is introduced: 1. Economic warfare. This covers situations where military as well as economic measures are used to inflict maximum damage to the economy of other nations. Usually, the military means applied are the more important. Economic warfare includes a scale of various military actions, from limited naval blockades to all-out bombing. The examples are many, ranging from sieges via the Pacific blockades of the 1800’s to the blockades of the Napoleonic War and the World Wars. The most recent example is the bombing of North Vietnam. 2. Economic sanctions. This includes general trade bans between nations, where most of the trade between the parties is affected. It presupposes no use of military means. 3. Specific economic actions. Examples are manipulations with economic aid, arms embargoes, nationalizations, etc. not taking the form of general trade bans. These actions are less comprehensive, and therefore frequently used. Examples 2

The 1930’s in fact held a debate of very much the same intensity as that of the 1960’s. One of the differences in the debates was that sanctions in the 1930’s were supposed to prevent outbreak of war by threatening to punish ‘aggressors’. Economic sanctions were considered the ‘worst’ measure to be used in the international system. In the 1960’s the instrument has been seen as a way to change certain undesirable political systems, and not as a general replacement of war. The fallacies of both debates, it seems, lie in the low attention devoted to the problem of why certain nations are interested in applying economic sanctions, and to the political effects of the measures on the nation exposed to them. See for instance Clark, E. (ed), Boycotts and Peace. A Report by the Committee on Economic Sanctions, New York 1932; Segal, R. (ed), Sanctions against South Africa, London: Penguin 1964; and Leiss, A. (ed) Apartheid and United Nations Collective Measures. An Analysis. New York: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 1965 (mimeo). 3 Published in Proceedings of the American Society of International Law, 1964, pp. 183–205. The paper is to a large extent based on earlier research on the case of Italy, see Taubenfeld, H. J., Economic Sanctions: An Appraisal and Case Study, New York: Colombia University, 1958 (mimeo). 4 Galtung, J. ‘On the Effects of International Economic Sanctions, With Examples from the Case of Rhodesia’, World Politics, Vol. XIX, No. 3 (April 1967), pp. 378–116.

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of breaks of economic aid in order to exert influence are the French action against Guinea in 1958, and various U.S. actions against Latin American countries. Arms embargoes were used to influence the Bolivia—Paraguay war in the 1930’s. 4. Tariff wars. This means changes of tariffs and other export—import restrictions in order to influence other nations. Examples are given by Nicholson.5 In the typology above, the focus is on international, negative (value-depriving) actions of one nation in the following called the sender (S) against another nation, the receiver (R). This leads to the exclusion of non-governmental behavior on the intra- as well as the international level. By choosing negative actions the interesting category of positive economic sanctions is placed outside the scope of the article. Common to the categories in the typology above is that the sender somehow wants to influence the receiver. Categories 2, 3, and 4 thus cover measures of a limited nature compared to the first one, the principal difference being the avoidance of military violence. The third category includes very specific actions to which only scant attention has been given so far. In this article the focus is on category 2, which includes measures of high importance and impact, measures which have sometimes also been seen as an alternative to military violence. The scope of the article is to describe and raise some possible explanations for the phenomenon of economic sanctions in general.

6.2

Economic Sanctions

To reach general conclusions about economic sanctions, we felt it essential to investigate all cases during a specific period of time. Keesing’s Contemporary Archives have been used to arrive at a reliable list of cases. In the index, all such words as ‘embargo’, ‘trade ban’, ‘boycott’, etc. have been looked up. Only one limitation was used, that the actions must have been undertaken by a governmental institution against some other institution of the same kind outside the authority of the first. In this way, some interesting non-governmental actions were excluded, e.g. actions against Germany 1933, and Chinese boycotts against Japan in the 1930’s. The list of cases is given in Table 6.1.6 Table 6.1 deserves some comments. Keesing’s Archives were examined from its first edition in 1932 to the end of 1966. During 1967 two more cases occurred, but too late for the data-collection.

5 Nicholson, M. ‘Tariff Wars and a Model of Conflict’, Journal of Peace Research, 1967, pp. 26– 38. 6 Included in the ‘Western’ embargo against the ‘Eastern’ nations are also interesting actions undertaken between West and East Germany, South and North Korea, and South and North Vietnam. Few references will be given to the literature of the cases in Table 6.1. Interested readers are referred to my A Study of Economic Sanctions, Uppsala 1968 (mimeo).

118 Table 6.1 Cases of economic sanctions 1932–1967. Cases in italics are singled out for further analysis (see the text). Sources: Compilation by the author

6 Characteristics of Economic Sanctions Year

Sender

Receiver

1933 1935–36 1941 1945– 1948 1948–49 1948–55 1948– 1951–54 1954–61 1960– 1960–62 1960– 1961– 1963– 1965– 1967 1967

United Kingdom League of Nations United States Arab states India Soviet Union Soviet Union USA/NATO (West) United Kingdom India African states United States United States Soviet Union African States United Kingdom Arab states Nigeria

Soviet Union Italy Japan Israel Hyderabad Berlin Yugoslavia Soviet/China (East) Iran Goa South Africa Dominican Republic Cuba Albania Portugal Rhodesia USA/UK/West Germany Biafra

Table 6.1 includes a heterogeneous collection of international conflicts. The 1940’s and the 1960’s have seen so far the most frequent use of economic sanctions, almost half the number having taken place during the latter period. More interesting is the outcome of the sanctions: have they been successful or not? If we define ‘successful’ as meaning the receiver’s compliance to the demands of the sender, we find only two such cases out of the eighteen in the list. But they are successful only in the meaning that some kind of compliance took place after the imposition of sanctions. If the sanctions as such caused the compliance is not clear. A closer look at the two cases in question (Iran and the Dominican Republic as receivers) reveals that the compliance took place after coups d’états. In 1953 Mossadeqh was removed from office by a coup administered by the Iranian army and by British and American intelligence services. In 1961 Trujillo was murdered, and turmoil followed with several coups. To trace the influence of the economic sanctions on these deeds is rather difficult. Leaving this out, however, the general picture of the sanctions is that they are highly unsuccessful in bringing about the compliance desired. In one more case the sanctions were followed by an agreement between sender and receiver (the case of USSR 1933) where the receiver gave some concessions to the sender. If this is regarded as compliance, the sanctions thus were successful in three cases, i.e. 17% of the total. From Table 6.1 we further find that the remaining fifteen cases fall into two distinct groups of about the same size. One includes the situations where economic sanctions have been succeeded by the use of physical violence on a major scale. This group contains the seven cases of Japan, Israel, Hyderabad, Goa, South Africa,

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Portugal, and Biafra. The other group is the cases where the sanctions either have been stopped after some time or have continued without leading to large-scale use of violence. It could be argued that the economic sanctions in the first group more have been of the war-preparation type (‘stripping for action’ in Coleman’s vocabulary) while they in the second have achieved such a polarization between the parties that the whole conflict has been ‘frozen’. Our interest here, however, is in the imposition and effects of the sanctions and the influence of these factors on the outcome of the sanctions. For a closer analysis we found it necessary to introduce certain limitations to arrive at a more homogeneous list of cases. First, our interest was primarily on international conflicts where both parties have behaved as independent states, having their own government administrations. Thus, Berlin was not included, nor was Hyderabad or Goa. Rhodesia, however, was regarded as a nation acting on its own. Second, it was necessary that economic sanctions constituted the main instrument used by the sender against the receiver. This criterion is met by all the remaining cases except the East-West and US-Japan conflicts. In these two, military preparations, diplomatic exchanges and other types of behavior were equally or more important. Third, to be able to study the cases carefully we wished to arrive at situations where the sender clearly announced his intentions (in an initial declaration) and stated that his decreasing of trade with the receiver was motivated by a desire somehow to influence the latter. Thus, ‘sanction’ is used in the sociological sense, referring to means applied to make someone behave according to a certain norm, but here with the condition that the norm be made explicit. The only case not filling this criterion was the British actions against Iran. In this way ten cases were arrived at, italicized in Table 6.1. In most of the cases there have existed nations which have been the obvious leaders of the sanction effort (the main senders). The main senders have initiated the sanctions and organized the participation of other nations (co-senders). In most cases it has been fruitful to treat one nation as the main sender, but in some this division may be questioned. Often international organizations are used to implement the sanctions. For instance, in this study the United Kingdom is regarded as the main sender in the sanction-operation against Italy. The important decisions were made in the League, but in the literature, France is seen as indifferent to the venture and the actions of the British government are assumed to make possible the initiation and later termination of the sanctions.7 Applying the concepts of main sender and co-senders to the ten cases, the United Kingdom was the main sender against USSR, Italy, and Rhodesia; the Soviet Union held the same position in the conflicts with Yugoslavia 7

No doubt, Britain was also indifferent to the whole operation, but it was the common feeling at the time that Britain stood firmly behind the actions undertaken and other nations followed the British lead. On this, see e.g. F. P. Walters, A History of the League of Nations, London: Oxford Univ. Press, 1965; Reynolds, P. A., British Foreign Policy in the Inter-War Years, London, 1954; and Baer, G. W., The Coming of the Italian-Ethiopian War, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univ. Press, 1967, particularly Ch. 12.

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and Albania; while the United States held it against the Dominican Republic and Cuba. The remaining three cases were initiated by a group of nations, so the concepts of main and co-sender do not clarify the picture. Working with ten cases means that the material cannot be treated with usual statistical techniques. It is also too small a number to use trichotomies on, and in the following it is to be regretted that only dichotomies can be applied. To come to reliable conclusions, we established the probability that the distributions occur randomly by means of Fisher’s exact test. Our interest thus is not only to provide a description of this universe of economic sanctions, but also to make predictions. To do this, the ten cases are treated as a sample of an unknown population.8

6.3 6.3.1

General Features of Economic Sanctions Success

Without going deeply into the question, the public and scientific debate on economic sanctions focuses on the outcomes and the possible explanations of the respective outcomes. The interest always has been on the sender’s side, and the outcome has been regarded as successful if the sender manages to make the receiver comply to the sender’s objectives. Using this definition of success, only two successful cases of economic sanctions are to be found, and these are successful only in the sense that some kind of compliance took place some time after the imposition of economic sanctions. The two cases are the British sanctions against the USSR in 1933 and USA/OAS against the Dominican Republic in 1960/1962. In the case of the USSR, the sanctions were terminated by an agreement reached through negotiations between the two governments concerned, and the sanctions were subsequently removed. The result was that the arrested British subjects were released by the Soviet Government. The case of the Dominican Republic is rather different. The sanctions were officially invoked to condemn Dominican participation in an assassination attempt on Venezuelan President Betancourt. This was to a great deal only a pretext, as the real objective was to condemn the Trujillo regime as such. Due to the construction of the OAS Charter the pretext was necessary for the OAS to act. In May, 1961 Trujillo was assassinated. In the literature, few authors wish to attribute the assassination to the impact of the economic sanctions. First, during the 1940’s and 1950’s there had been several attempts to assassinate the dictator. Second, nobody behind the 1961 plot seems to have been motivated by the effects of the sanctions. Thus it is difficult to argue that the Dominican Republic, so far, constitutes a case of successful economic sanctions. More interesting is, however, the use of the economic sanctions during the following six months. In order to remove all members

8

On Fisher’s exact test, see Siegel, N, Non-Parametric Statistics, New York: McGraw-Hill, 1956.

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121

of the Trujillo family from governmental positions, President Kennedy promised that the economic sanctions would be withdrawn the moment the Trujillos left the country. This was paralleled by a coup in the Dominican Republic. When the Trujillo family actually left the country and elections were scheduled for 1962, President Kennedy delivered a speech on the ‘most encouraging development’ in the Dominican Republic, and the sanctions were lifted. To estimate the importance of the sanctions during these confused six months is not easy, but it seems as if they had some impact on the situation and contributed to the changes in the Dominican government.9 The case of the Dominican Republic will in the following be labeled successful, but the reservations made should be kept in mind. To explain the outcomes of economic sanctions a lot of theories have been explicitly or implicitly present in the public and scientific debate. They emphasize different elements in the situation created by the S—R conflict and the subsequent invoking of sanctions. According to the different emphases these theories can be organized in four categories: I. Sender-oriented theories. They include structural and behavioral aspects of the sender, such as rank and motive. II. Receiver-oriented theories, which cover the structural and behavioral aspects of the receiver, such as the effects of the S measures adopted. III. SR-relation-oriented theories. These theories focus on the comparative relations as well as interaction, the actors’ perception of each other, etc. IV. Environment-oriented theories, which refer to the reaction of the international system outside S and R, time of occurrence, etc. Some examples will help clarify the list. A typical category I theory is one stressing the sender’s ‘miniscule interest’ in bringing the sanctions to a successful end, or pointing to the sender’s ‘low capacity’ to enforce something. A receiver-oriented theory is one focusing on the economic vulnerability of R or pointing out the unanimous support in R of the pursued policy; category III includes theories on the historical relations between S and R, their rank relation, etc., while category IV theories are interested in the importance of ‘sanction-breakers’. These four categories provide a useful systematic division of variables used for descriptions and explanations of economic sanctions and will in the following constitute the framework for the study. Altogether about fifty different variables have been tried, most of them derived from theories raised by historians or other authors, but also to some extent derived from the present author’s own thinking. Some of them were badly suited for a general view of economic sanctions, and are therefore omitted in the following.

9

See among other Rodman, S., Quisqueya. A History of the Dominican Republic, Seattle: Univ. of Washington Press, 1964, Ch. 10; Clark, G., The coming Explosion in Latin America, New York, 1965; Kurzman, D., Santo Domingo. Revolt of the Damned. New York, 1965.

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6.3.2

6 Characteristics of Economic Sanctions

Sender-Oriented Theories

The main interest was here the question why and by whom economic sanctions have been applied. To this end, we carried out a study of the motive as given in the declarations, an evaluation of the importance of the issue plus a study of the internal situation of the sender and also the sender’s place in the international system, economically and politically. Crucial for the understanding of the outcomes of economic sanctions is of course the motive of the main sender. Why have economic sanctions and not other measures been used? To deal with this question, we turned our attention to the content of the initial declaration, where the sender announced the instituting of the economic sanctions against the receiver. The declarations are regarded as the official explanation of the actions undertaken, and their content can yield information on the purpose of the acts. While they all mention that the object is to influence the receiver, in other respects they differ. The idea was to measure their content of expressive and instrumental components. Galtung defines an act as expressive ‘to the extent that it serves the function of tension release from the latent intensity’.10 A conflict is regarded as latent as long as conflict attitude, but not conflict behavior is present. The attitudes sooner or later build up sentiments so tense that some kind of action is necessary to release the tension and express the sentiments. Transferring this to the economic sanctions, heavy presence of expressive components in the initial declaration would indicate that the sanction has come out of such a process. We therefore constructed a model of expressive content of the initial declaration containing the use of phrases of condemnation and protest, references to R’s ‘bad’ behavior in the past, etc. The model also included S’s references to future relations between S and R. When S used very vague words about the possibility of solution and resumption of trade, or only stated that a solution was ‘up to R’, this was regarded as expressive content. Indications that S might undertake further negative actions, such as breaking off of diplomatic relations, etc. were also included in the expressive model. The opposite was a model of instrumental content. According to Galtung, acts are instrumental to the extent to which they contribute to conflict resolution.11 The model would thus include no condemnation of R, no references to R’s ‘bad’ behavior in the past. It would also point out S’s desire to maintain diplomatic relations and resume trade, and include clear indications of how a solution might be achieved. These two models are very different and would indicate different motives for S to use economic sanctions. On the basis of the models, we constructed an index of instrumental—expressive content of the initial declarations, ranging from 0 (very

Galtung, J., ‘Pacifism from a Sociological Point of View’, Journal of Conflict Resolution, Vol. Ill (1959), no. 1, p. 69. 11 Ibid. 10

6.3 General Features of Economic Sanctions

123

expressive) to 32 (very instrumental). The result, with the scale dichotomized, is summarized in Table 6.2.12 Table 6.2 suggests that the initiations of economic sanctions have been supported by declarations of a highly expressive character. Mean and median fall well inside the expressive category. It is noteworthy that one case corresponding entirely to the model of expressive economic sanctions was found (Dominican Republic) but none of instrumental sanction. The two instrumental sanctions are in the middle of the instrumental category and contain also expressive components. An explanation of the findings in Table 6.2 could be that sanctions in general are outcomes of a situation where sentiments with regard to R have been generated inside S making it necessary to ‘do something’. Using economic sanctions as a mechanism is a comparatively costly operation. It must be important for S to express himself with regard to R, i.e. the values at stake must be regarded as important to the S value system. The issues of the ten conflicts have concerned norms of a very fundamental character. In the case of Rhodesia, the British government was concerned with the ‘unlawful’ behavior of R; the USSR in 1948 was concerned with the Yugoslav deviation from Marxism-Leninism. Without discussing the whole list, it is undeniable that racial discrimination is something seen as fundamentally ‘bad’ by the Afro-Asian nations, as is ‘communism’ by the USA, ‘intervention’ by the Latin American states, etc. Thus we might argue that economic sanctions are mostly used by the sender to express his feelings when the receiver has broken fundamental S norms, which S regards as fundamental also to other nations. Two cases deviate somewhat from this picture: Italy and USSR. In both cases the United Kingdom is regarded as the main sender and the values at stake were not very fundamental to the UK. This is also correlated with the content of the initial declarations, which in these cases was instrumental. What has been seen is that economic sanctions mostly are instituted expressions of the sender’s feelings when he observes R breaking fundamental S norms. However, we would need a further penetration of the situation inside S to attain insight into S’s motives for using economic sanctions. Fredrik Hoffmann has contributed an interesting application of the cross-pressure theory on the situation in the United Kingdom at the time of the imposition of the sanctions on Rhodesia. The British actions against Rhodesia arose from a slightly polarized situation with one side urging military actions and the other favoring passivity. To come out of the situation economic sanctions were chosen.13 One way to test this on the ten cases is to see if the imposition of economic sanctions has been made in times of internal cleavages of the main sender. In the

12

The scores achieved were the following: USSR 24, Italy 24, Israel 4, Yugoslavia 8, Dominican Republic 0, Cuba 12, South Africa 4, Albania 12, Portugal 4, Rhodesia 8. 13 Hoffmann, F., ‘The Functions of Economic Sanctions’, Journal of Peace Research, 1967, pp. 140–160.

124 Table 6.2 Content of main sender’s initial declaration. Distribution of cases. Source: Author

6 Characteristics of Economic Sanctions Expressive

8

Instrumental Mean score Median score

2 10 2

polyarchic14 systems there is a slight trend in this direction. In four of the five cases new elections followed within half a year after the imposition. In the remaining five cases, the USSR obviously experienced a grave internal conflict in 1948 connected with the death of Zhjdanov, and the same seems to apply to the situation of 1961, with changes of the top bodies of the Communist Party in May, 1960 and October, 1961. However, it does not apply to the leading states behind the sanctions in the cases of Israel, Portugal, and South Africa. This leaves six cases where instituting economic sanctions may have reflected internal cleavages between ‘activists’ and ‘non-action’ advocates. A more interesting correlation is that introduced in Table 6.3. Rank has often been seen as an important variable describing the behavior of states in the international system. The distinctions introduced here are based on the Singer-Small and Vellut ranking schemes. They are different and perhaps not immediately comparable: Singer-Small gives ranking from diplomatic representation and covers only the 1930’s; while Vellut uses economic and demographic criteria and is concerned with the period 1960−1966. For instance it can be assumed that China of the 1960’s would be placed very differently when using these two ranking indices. These were the only available, however, and here our intention was only to arrive at an estimation of high ranked nations. The remaining ones could then be regarded as having low rank. A problem was the situation of the 1940’s where it was necessary to introduce a ‘common sense’ estimation of the situation.15 From Table 6.3 we may conclude that a correlation exists between the imposition of economic sanctions, high ranked main senders, and internal cleavages. The Hoffmann theory may thus be supported in the cases where the main sender also has been one of the top powers. The sanctions sent by low-ranked nations obviously have other sources. Perhaps they could be seen as related to the internal cleavages experienced before the imposition. Most of the low ranked senders were earlier under colonial domination and in their struggle for political independence values like ‘equality’, ‘non-discrimination’, ‘de-colonization’ were extremely important. In this respect the conflicts where economic sanctions have been used can be regarded as a continuation of this struggle.

14

The concepts of polyarchic and centrist political systems are taken from Banks, A. S. and Gregg, P. M., ‘Grouping Political Systems: A Q-Factor Analysis of A Cross-Polity Survey, American Behavioral Scientist, 9 (Nov. 1965) pp. 3–6. 15 See Singer, J. D. and Small, M., ‘The Composition and Status Ordering of the International System: 1815–1940’, World Politics, Vol. XVIII, No. 2 (Jan. 1966) pp. 236–282; and Vellut, J.-L., ‘Smaller States and the Problem of War and Peace’, Journal of Peace Research, 1967, pp. 252– 269. The six highest-ranked nations are regarded as ‘High’ and the remaining as ‘Low’.

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Table 6.3: Main sender at the time of imposition of sanctions. Rank and internal cleavages. Source: The author Internal cleavages No Internal cleavages Total p = .03

High rank

Low rank

Total

6 1 7

0 3 3

6 4 10

To go further into the question why S initiated economic sanctions an essential variable is trade importance. We may assume that S will be more inclined to choose economic sanctions against R if trade is of low importance to S. Such an hypothesis is confirmed by the data available (no data exist on Israel-Arab trade before 1945). On the average, trade with R constituted only 1.8% of the total main sender trade at the time of imposition. The highest trade dependence was Yugoslavia, taking 5% of the total USSR trade. We may conclude that though economic sanctions constitute acts which hurt the sender more than other acts usually employed in the international system, still, they are of a relatively low importance to the sender’s total trade and consequently even less to the total S economy. This contributes to their usefulness as acts of demonstration and protest: they stand out as something extraordinary, but do not mean too much to the sender. It has been possible to distinguish three groups of cases at least on some of the sender-oriented variables. The Italy and USSR cases were supported by instrumental sender declarations; the issue was not very fundamental to the sender, and the sender was in both cases a top power. Another group consists of the cases of Yugoslavia, Cuba, Dominican Republic, Albania, and Rhodesia, all being expressive, of high S fundamentality, and having top ranked main senders which experienced internal cleavages at the time of imposition. The third group consists of the Israel, South Africa, and Portugal cases, which also are expressive and of high S fundamentality, but the senders are low ranked and did not experience internal cleavages at the time of imposition. Concerning the successful outcome of the economic sanctions, the USSR and the Dominican Republic cases do not at all fall in the same categories on any of the variables employed. This could support a theory that the sanctions against the latter were not actually intended to work, and that it was more an accident that they did so. Applying variables describing the development inside S after the imposition does not add anything to the picture, nor does it help to explain the outcome.

6.3.3

Receiver-Oriented Theories

The variables of importance in this category include R’s structure, i.e. political system, rank-position, importance of trade; R’s behavior, i.e. counteracting of

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6 Characteristics of Economic Sanctions

economic and political effects of the crisis; and R’s attitudes, i.e. fundamentality of issue and interpretation of the conflict. Important from a political science point of view is the political system and especially the degree of interference legally possible for the R government. Using the distinction introduced earlier, we categorized the receivers according to whether their political system was centrist or polyarchic. Seven of the receivers were placed in the first category and three in the second. Thus, from the beginning, the R governments had a high degree of legal control of the political machinery making it possible to use vast resources to counteract the effects of sanctions. But also in a polyarchic political system, it could be argued, the government could assume greater influence in times of crisis. This is undoubtedly what has happened in all the cases investigated. If we continue to study the structural variables, it is noteworthy that all receivers except one have had a low rank position in the international system: economic sanctions are used against the small nations of the world. Another important variable is the trade dependence on the main sender (Table 6.4).16 This is very high compared with the corresponding situation of the main sender. Mean trade dependence constituted 29% of the total R trade, median 19.5%. The economic sanctions thus have affected an important section of the receiver’s economy. In the two successful cases, trade dependence was 14 and 58%, giving an average of 32%. This is, in fact, somewhat higher than for the failure cases, where trade dependence has been 27% on average. However, this does not lead to the conclusion that trade dependence has been a decisive variable for explaining the outcome. If 25% is regarded as a dividing line, four cases will emerge with high trade dependence and five with low (Israel is excluded). Of the former cases, only one was successful; in the latter, the same pattern emerges. High trade dependence thus does not constitute a variable which alone can explain the outcome. Still another variable that must be investigated to understand the receiver’s behavior is the actual reduction of total trade that R is exposed to. In some cases the reduction was more and in some cases less than should be expected from Table 6.4. This is due i.a. to the reaction of the environment to the main sender— receiver conflict. In several cases S or R was supported, which served to make the sanction less or more severe. What needs to be calculated is the immediate actual reduction of R trade. The result is given in Table 6.5.17 It is obvious that the sanctions in general have not been as severe as would be expected from Table 6.4. Only in two cases did the actual reduction of trade exceed the expected. We may conclude either that the receiver has been very successful in

16

For Israel no numbers have been available. Regarding South Africa and Portugal the numbers given are estimations from official statistics, which do not contain information on the exact distribution of the trade. The numbers given in the Table are probably too high. 17 Based on official statistics, except in the case of Rhodesia, where different numbers have been given on the Rhodesian export 1966. The official Rhodesian number is a trade reduction of 17%; the corresponding British, 45%. To avoid the difficult problem of accuracy the figure given in the Table is the average of the two; but if one or the other would have been employed it would not have changed the general pattern. For Israel no statistics have been available.

6.3 General Features of Economic Sanctions Table 6.4 Receiver’s trade dependence on the main sender: Receiver’s total trade, year immediately before imposition. %. Source: the author

Table 6.5 Actual reduction of total trade the first year of exposure to sanctions. % of year preceding year of sanctions. Source: the author

127

USSR

14.0

Italy Israel Yugoslavia Cuba Dominican Republic South Africa Albania Portugal Rhodesia Mean Median

10.6 – 19.5 68.9 57.9 5.0 50.0 3.5 29.0 29.0 19.5

USSR

7

Italy Israel Yugoslavia Cuba Dominican Republic South Africa Albania Portugal Rhodesia Mean Median

32 – 13 5 21 0 7 +2 31 13 7

transferring his trade to new trade partners, or that the main sender has not stopped all trade. The first applies to the cases of Yugoslavia, Cuba, Albania, and Rhodesia; the second to the USSR and Dominican Republic. Studies of the Italian case make it clear that Italy actually decreased trade with senders and maintained trade with non-senders as usual. In the cases of Portugal and South Africa the impact of the sanction on trade has been negligible. By connecting the variables of time and total trade reduction, a measure of when R has overcome the sanctions is given. We assume that the objective of economic sanctions is to decrease the total R trade as much as possible; consequently, a sign of failure would be that total R trade is the same as before imposition of sanctions. Concerning this, data are available only from five of the cases. Three of the ten were ended before this development took place (USSR, Italy, Dominican Republic) and on two there is no information (Israel, Rhodesia). Of the remaining five, two have not experienced reductions of trade worth mentioning (South Africa, Portugal). This gives only three cases to consider. In these cases a reduction took place during the first calendar year of economic sanctions; during the second year, trade had been

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6 Characteristics of Economic Sanctions

resumed to the same level as before the imposition; and during the third calendar year total trade was about the same or slightly above the pre-imposition trade in all cases. What is seen is that the receivers are able to resume trade in full extent rather quickly. An important variable for understanding the receiver’s behavior after the imposition of economic sanctions is the fundamentality of the issue. A simple index of fundamentality was constructed in which the basic assumption was that changes of internal policy were more essential to R than changes of foreign policy. When the S demands on R only involved very specific changes of unimportant parts of the R foreign policy this was given score 1 on the scale (minimum score). The demands could then be placed on a graded scale up to 7 which involved changes of R political, social and economic structure (maximum score). Such a classification can be exposed to severe criticism, since even rather unessential changes by R can be interpreted as involving more fundamental values. This is, no doubt, a policy applied very often by the R nations. However, we felt that the fundamentality of the issues somehow provided an important variable and that the problem had to be penetrated. By using the initial declarations from S the issues were located. In most cases it was not difficult to establish what the issue was by looking at the construction of the text, its main focus, etc. As indicated in Table 6.1 this provided an interesting discrepancy in the cases of the Dominican Republic and Cuba. In the initial declarations, the issue was said to be the plot against Betancourt in the first case and the nationalization of U.S. property in the second. In official speeches by the U.S. Foreign Secretary, Vice President, and other leading U.S. spokesmen it was made clear that the real issue was the two regimes on these islands. Using the initial declarations the Dominican Republic would achieve score 1 and Cuba score 5, using the speeches at the time their respective scores would be 6 and 7. In the following, these two cases will be regarded as involving issues of high fundamentality, the stand usually taken in the literature on these conflicts. Using these declarations, we find the mean fundamentality of all cases to be 5.8 and the median 6.0.18 We may thus conclude that

18

In August 1960 U.S. Secretary of State Herter said of the application of sanctions against the Dominican Republic: ‘In view of the intimate relationship which is recognized to exist between the violations of human rights and the lack of representative democracy in the Dominican Republic and the international tensions which have culminated in the acts of intervention and aggression against the Government of Venezuela, any measures that the Organ of Consultation might take under the Rio Treaty could and should, we believe, be addressed to this basic aspect of the problem’. Implicit and obvious in the speech was that ‘the basic aspect’ was the Trujillo regime. On the statement see Documents on American Foreign Relations I960, p. 493 f. On the case of Cuba, Vice President Nixon stated in October 1960: ‘... time for patience is over ... we must move vigorously ... to eradicate this ‘cancer’ in our own hemisphere and to ‘prevent further Soviet penetration’; see Nixon, R., Six Crises, London 1962, pp. 352-353. Secretary Herter dealt with the Cuban situation in August 1960 under the headings of ‘Extracontinental Threat to Inter-American System’, ‘Evidence of Communist Control in Cuba’ and ‘Conflict with Declaration of Santiago’ all indicating that the USA was not only concerned about the American nationalized property but also the Castro regime; see the collections of documents quoted above, pp. 495–503.

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economic sanctions generally have concerned issues of high fundamentality to the receiver. The only cases deviating from this picture are those of Italy and USSR, involving less fundamental issues. We have already pointed out that the issues may be interpreted to be more fundamental than they actually are. This kind of interpretation has occurred in all cases. In speeches by the leading persons the themes are to a great extent concentrated on ‘national unity’, ‘sovereignty’, etc., indicating that the issue is of extremely high fundamentality. Studying the literature on the various crisis shows that the speeches are also supported by stable or increased support for the government. Some notable exceptions exist, however. The Dominican Republic did not experience this. After the assassination of Trujillo, there followed riots, and coups. For the cases of South Africa and Rhodesia the observations are restricted to the white minorities, which of course are the important segments of the population from this point of view. No data indicate that such unification has taken place inside the African population. It is also significant that only one assassination of a top leader has been carried out after the imposition of sanctions, except in the Dominican Republic: this was the assassination of Dr. Verwoerd in 1966. The motives behind the act have been kept secret, but it was obviously not related to the sanctions and it did not lead to the destruction of the system. Russett et al. has introduced an index of executive stability constructed to measure the number of years per chief executive and gives data from the period 1945-1961.19 This index was used to compare the receiver’s executive stability during the sanctions period, with the normal executive stability for a period of similar length during the post-war period. To make a comparison possible, the cases of the USSR, Italy, and Rhodesia were excluded (Russett has no data for the interwar period or for Rhodesia). The mean score for the remaining seven cases was 4.6, the normal being 3.6. Thus the receivers were in general more stable during the sanctions period than normally. Of the seven cases, three were significantly more stable than normal for 1945-1961 (Cuba, South Africa, and Albania), three about the same (Israel, Yugoslavia, Portugal) and only one less stable: the Dominican Republic. This means that the receivers are successful in withstanding the political effects of economic sanctions. It is difficult to arrive at measures of opposition to the R government in the period after imposition of sanctions. Obviously there will always exist some persons objecting to the policy pursued, but they can be eliminated by mass-arrests or

The fundamentality scores distributed as follows: USSR 2 (change of very specific actions of internal policy), Italy 4 (diffuse, important actions of foreign policy), Albania 5 (diffuse, important actions of internal policy involving R gov’t important policy), Yugoslavia, Dominican Republic 6 (diffuse, important actions of internal policy, change of R gov’t), Israel, South Africa, Portugal, Rhodesia, Cuba 7 (diffuse, important actions of internal policy, involving change of R political, economic, and social structure). 19 Russett, B. M., et al., World Handbook of Political and Social Indicators, New Haven: Yale University Press, 1964, pp. 101–104.

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isolation. In Israel, the Arabs have been treated so as to prevent them from turning against the Israeli government, and the same applies in a much greater extent, to the African majorities of South Africa, Rhodesia and Portugal. In the year after 1948 more than 8,000 persons were arrested in Yugoslavia for ‘pro-Cominform activity’, and the same type of phenomenon happened in Cuba and the Dominican Republic; on Albania no information exists. Another way of eliminating the opposition has been emigration. Leading opponents of the regimes have left the countries, e.g. Cuba permitted a great exodus; so did Rhodesia, South Africa, and Portugal. Exile politicians have been active in most of the cases. Consequently, the theory that economic sanctions would be an act of support for the opposing groups in the receiver is not validated. On the contrary, it has been the bitter experience of the senders that sanctions have contributed to eliminating these groups from influence. One variable of importance to the above discussion is the time variable. Using the date of imposition as the starting point and the day when S removes the sanctions as ending date (in the case of still-continuing sanctions they are regarded as ‘ended’ by 31.12 1966) we find that the mean duration is 5.4 years, the median 4.7 years. One group of sanctions is clustered around a duration of one year, another around 5–6 years. The Arab sanctions against Israel are outstanding, with a duration of 21.7 years at the end of 1966. Long duration is a general feature of economic sanctions, so it is not unexpected to find that long duration (>2 years) is correlated with high executive stability. It has been possible for the receivers to maintain stability also over long period of time. To summarize, we have shown that the receivers of sanctions tend to be low ranked nations with a high dependence on trade with the main sender. The issues have been of high fundamentality to the receiver, a fact which constitutes a possible explanation of the long duration of the sanctions and the higher-than-normal stability of the receivers. The receivers have also been successful in countering the sanctions and decreasing the economic effects of the measures. Total trade has been normal compared to the pre-imposition period, at most about two years after the imposition of sanctions. Concerning the political effects, it is noted in the literature that a unification process takes place inside the receiver. This means increased support of the government by important sectors of the population. Only the Dominican Republic case has provided an opposite situation. Assassinations are rare, the executive stability is about the same as or higher than normal. These data supports the findings by Galtung in his study on Rhodesia: a general effect of economic sanctions is to create cohesion inside the nation exposed to them. The conflict gives the R government the possibility to display its nationalism, etc. By referring to the critical situation, it has also been possible for the R government to undertake extraordinary actions such as mass-arrests, or isolation of opponents to the regime. This contributes to the cohesion of the nation. The two successful cases, the Dominican Republic and the USSR, were of short duration and were terminated during the period the sanctions economically affected most. In both cases, the main sender had not cut all trade with R. These are the only variables where these cases discriminate significantly from the others.

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In Sect. 6.3.2 we noted that three groups of cases of sanctions could be distinguished on some important variables. To some extent the distinction is useful also on the receiver-oriented variables. Thus, R trade dependence on S differentiates, being lowest for Portugal and South Africa (3.5-5%), somewhat higher for the USSR, Italy (10–14%), and considerably more for the remaining five (19.5–68%). Actual trade reduction, however, was the same for the two last groups and negligible for the first. It seems safe to state that on this variable Israel falls in the same pattern as Portugal and South Africa, but no data exist. As to fundamentality, the USSR and Italy differ from the other eight, while on the rank only Italy belonged to the high ranked nations. Regarding stability, only the Dominican Republic differs from the others. The different measures used to counter internal opposition applies to all cases. The three-group division, thus, is not particularly useful on the receiveroriented variables; R’s behavior is probably part of a general reaction to international pressures more than anything else.

6.3.4

SR-Relation-Oriented Theories

Under this heading are incorporated variables describing the relative situation between S and R (rank-relation, trade dependence, S perception of R an vice versa) and the interaction between the two. We have already noted that the senders to a great extent are high ranked, and the receivers low ranked. From the rank-relation between the main contestants Table 6.6 emerges. The distribution of Table 6.6 indicates that economic sanctions mainly have been an instrument for great powers against small nations. Only one case shows a rank-symmetric relation where both parties have high rank (Italy). Economic sanctions have not been used against top powers by the small ones. From the material presented earlier it is also clear that the receiver mostly is more dependent on trade from the main sender than vice versa. This applies to all the nine cases where we have information. None of these variables bring our understanding much further. There is a correlation indicating that high ranked senders turn more against centrist receivers, and that low ranked senders direct their actions against polyarchic receivers, but the implication of this is not clear.

Table 6.6 Main sender’s (MS) rank and rank-relation to the receiver. Distribution of cases. Source: the author MS High rank MS Low rank Total p = .03

Rank symmetry

Rank asymmetry

Total

1 3 4

6 0 6

7 3 10

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Table 6.7 Content of main sender’s initial declaration and the fundamentality of the issue to the receiver. Distribution of cases. Source: the author Expressive Instrumental Total p = .02

High fundamentality

Low fundamentality

Total

8 0 8

0 2 2

8 2 10

More interesting results emerge if we turn our attention to the content of the sender’s initial declaration (Table 6.7). The high expressive content of the sender’s initial declarations has already been noted, as well as the high fundamentality of the issues to R. The correlation between these two variables is obvious from Table 6.7. We might very well infer that the main sender is aware of the importance of the issue to R and thus understands than R cannot be influenced. The outcome is an act demonstrating his rejection of R. Interestingly, in eight of these cases the breaking off of economic relations is followed (immediately or in the immediate following time) by the breaking off of diplomatic relations. Two cases deviate from this pattern: Italy and the USSR, where the declaration of main sender (MS) was instrumental, the issue of rather low fundamentality, and where diplomatic relations were maintained. It has often been suggested that positive interaction between countries in conflict influences the outcome of the conflict. In order to discuss this we studied the interaction before the imposition of sanctions. We assumed that presence of diplomatic relations, certain trade (as seen from R), and military cooperation between MS and R indicated very high interaction. A graded scale of interaction was constructed, and an index with sufficiently high face-validity achieved. We found high interaction in five of the cases, low in two, and almost none in three. Furthermore, we found that senders with high rank position used sanctions against receivers with both high and low interaction with themselves. Low ranked senders directed sanctions against receivers with which they have not had any interaction. Even more interesting is the correlation between interaction at time of imposition and the occurrence of military violence during the sanction period. It is notable that direct violence between main sender and receiver during the imposition of sanctions occurred only in the case of Israel. However, there exists violence directed against the receiver which has been sponsored by the main sender. The main sender obviously has not been willing to interfere with own troops to bring about the changes desired. The four cases of such indirect violence are Israel, Cuba, South Africa, and Portugal. Three of these are also cases of non-interaction between main sender and receiver. Only Cuba deviates, having had high interaction with the United States before the break in 1960. The remaining six cases do not show any MS-sponsored violence; they have also been cases of high or low interaction. It is further remarkable that the senders which have not supported violence against the receivers are the high-ranked ones. This would support the Hoffmann theory, that,

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133

at least in the cases of high- ranked senders, economic sanctions have been used to avoid military action. There is one more correlation to support the Hoffmann theory further. In six of the seven cases of some interaction, there have also been internal cleavages inside the main sender. This has not been the case in the non-interaction cases. This correlation could be interpreted as saying that due to the interaction with R, MS will experience cleavages as how to treat R, and the outcome will be economic sanctions. The more interaction, the more powerful will the groups favorable to R be, and consequently less inclined to support too drastic measures. These groups may also see their own interaction with R threatened, and thus wish to do nothing towards R. If the same situation is seen from R, it could be argued that the groups in R interacting with S also are those most favorable to S, most interested in reaching a solution of the conflict, and also those most hurt by the S measures. This would in turn contribute to long drawn-out conflicts, where those benefitting from the break and consequently less interested in a solution will become more powerful. The success of sanctions, however, is not explained by any of the variables described in this section. Both the Dominican Republic and USSR had some interaction with the main-sender, but this does not separate them from the other cases in a significant way. To summarize, we have been able to present more material in support of the Hoffmann theory. The interaction between main sender and receiver has been high at the same time as the main sender was of high rank, experienced internal cleavages, and did not use or sponsor violence against the receiver. The expressive quality of the sender- declarations is correlated with the issue’s fundamentality for the receiver; this also supports a theory that the sanctions are meant only as a demonstration. Turning again to the three groups of sanctions, the overlap between the South Africa, Portugal, and Israel cases with the cases of Yugoslavia, Cuba, Dominican Republic, Albania, and Rhodesia is considerable. In all eight a correlation exists between S expressivity and high R fundamentality, and breaking off of diplomatic relations. Interesting differences between the two groups mentioned are that in the first one S was low ranked, did not have any interaction with R, and the rank relation was symmetrical. In the second one, S was of high rank, had high interaction with R, and the rank-relation was asymmetrical. The group consisting of Italy and USSR differed from the other eight on all the variables mentioned, except that S was of high rank. As to use of military violence, the South Africa, Portugal, and Israel cases differ from the second group (Cuba excepted).

6.3.5

Environment-Oriented Theories

As seen from Table 6.1 the main sender seldom applies sanctions alone. This has happened only in two cases: USSR/Albania in 1961 and UK/USSR in 1933. In one

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more of the cases the main sender and the co-senders taken together have been less than ten (Yugoslavia), the remaining seven cases having even higher numbers of participants. The highest numbers are reported from the cases of Italy and Rhodesia, where global organizations have turned against the receivers and about fifty nations officially supported the sanctions. The organizations used for the sanctions in the other cases have been of regional character. However, the number of participants does not correlate with any of the other variables used to describe the economic sanctions, nor does it relate to the outcome of the sanctions. What is important for the outcome of the sanctions is perhaps not the number of participants but rather the degree of trade withdrawn from the receiver. A comparison of Tables 6.4 and 6.5 indicates that the co-senders have contributed to the sanction effort against Italy and Rhodesia. In most cases, however, the function of the environment seems to have been to prevent the reduction of R’s total trade. Table 6.5 indicates that R has been able to find new markets rather soon. This measures of the support of the environment does not correlate with any of the other variables, and certainly not with the outcome variable. A third way to measure the reaction of the environment was constructed on the siege theory: if a nation exposed to sanctions is completely surrounded by senders this might have an impact. But we soon found that most of the nations exposed to sanctions also have had access to major seas, the only exception being Rhodesia. Counting number of boycotting neighbors related to total number of neighbors does not yield any information of interest. It might well be argued that the sanctions have contributed or been a part of a polarization process where the sender also has been in conflict with other nations. The S conflict with R then has contributed to R’s siding with other opponents to S. A glance at Table 6.1 shows that this has been true in all cases but these of the USSR and Dominican Republic. In both cases an early solution has been reached, preventing this kind of development. However, the lack of such support in the environment may have contributed to R compliance with S. Using the time variable, we note that two cases began during the 1930’s, two during the 1940’s, and six during the 1960’s, while the 1950’s provided no cases. Although it is difficult to say whether this is a trend or not, the increased trade between nations might also provide an increased temptation to use economic sanctions. More interesting is perhaps the fact that only two took place in the inter-war period (which is not completely investigated, however), the other eight belonging to the post-1945 period. Some authors have pointed out the difference of the milieu of the international system during the inter-war period compared with the postwar period. The two inter-war cases differ from the other eight in a way which would support this. Luard, thus, regards the inter-war period as more oriented on conciliation, negotiation, etc. whereas the post-war period has emphasized deterrence and containment.20 Consequently, economic sanctions have been different as well.

Luard, E., ‘Conciliation and Deterrence: A Comparison of Political Strategies in the Inter-War and Post-War Periods’, World Politics, Vol. XIX, No. 2 (Jan. 1967), p. 167 ft.

20

6.3 General Features of Economic Sanctions

135

Using these measures on the reaction of the environment does not help explain why some cases were successful and others not. It seems, however, that the environment has had rather low importance as to the outcome or structure of the conflicts studied.

6.4

Conclusion

Here the most interesting conclusions and correlations have been presented after having tried about fifty variables on the economic sanctions between 1932 and 1966. The general picture is that economic sanctions have been unsuccessful as a means of influence in the international system. The sender’s motive in general has been to express feelings after the receiver has broken norms fundamental to the sender. At the same time, trade with the receiver has been of low importance. For the receiver, trade with the sender has been of high importance, at the same time as the receiver has tended to be low ranked. As to the effect on the receiver, this has mostly been successfully evaded. The actual reduction of trade has been less than expected; and, at most two years after the imposition of sanctions, trade has been as before. This would also seem to apply to Rhodesia in 1968. There exist several reinforcing processes inside the receiver making this possible. The government can appeal to nationalistic feelings, while also describing the conflict as very fundamental. By referring to the grave situation, many political and economic measures can be undertaken, such as elimination of opponents by various methods, etc. All this will contribute to the maintenance or increase of popular support for the government. It seems also as if the expressive qualities of the sender’s actions arise from the fact that the issues from the outset are fundamental to the receiver. Economic sanctions could thus be viewed as an indication that the sender admits ‘unfortunately, nothing can be done’. The most important function of the sanction then would be to tell the world what norms the sender in general dislikes. We have also noted that economic sanctions in general are followed by breaking off of diplomatic relations. A situation without any interaction is created, and not even negative interaction like military violence takes place. The importance of the environment to the outcome is difficult to evaluate. Its function has been to work for the sender in some cases and against in some of the others, as to the total trade. However, the position of the USSR and Dominican Republic at the time of sanctions appears to have been isolated. This in fact is one of the few variables where these two cases differ significantly from the others. The successful cases in general have been of shorter duration than the others, and they did not involve a total reduction of trade. This may have facilitated the solution, but in different ways in the two cases, since their development is so different. On many dimensions applied on the data the two appear to be more different than similar, and they have to be treated accordingly. In Table 6.8 a

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Table 6.8 Grouping of Cases of Sanctions. Empirical finding. Source: The author Dimension/Cases

Italy, USSR

Yugoslavia, Cuba, Dominican Republic, Albania, Rhodesia

S internal cleavage R trade dependence on S S-R interaction Rank relations R rank S fundamentality R fundamentality S initial declaration Diplomatic relations after imposition of sanctions Duration Time of occurrence S rank Sponsored violence

Yes/No Medium Low Sym/asym High/low Low Low Instrumental Maintained

Yes High High Asymmetric

Short Before 1945 High No

South Africa, Portugal, Israel

No Low No Symmetric Low High High Expressive Suspended Long After 1945 Low Yes

summary is given of the groupings of sanctions which have been tried in the previous sections; and within this frame it is more fruitful to discuss success. In Table 6.8 the groups in the middle and to the right show a considerable overlapping. The variables where they deviate are those used to explain why economic sanctions have been employed. For the middle group, evidence is given which supports an extended version of the Hoffmann theory, applicable where the receiver has been very dependent on the sender (high interaction, high trade dependence, asymmetrical rank relation). In these cases the main sender has experienced internal cleavages. Exactly how these have been related to the relations with the receiver we do not know, however. The fact that military violence has not been used by the main sender gives further support to the Hoffmann theory. In the right group the sanctions have had another source, related to the low rank of both senders and receivers. Interaction and trade dependence has been negligible, no internal cleavages existed within the main senders at the time of imposition. The sanctions have been the only measure possible for the senders to do anything to the receiver. It is noteworthy that these sanctions have been instituted by a group of nations, and the Hoffmann theory may thus be more useful on the international level. In spite of these different origins the sanctions have been carried out in similar ways: they have been expressive and have concerned issues of high fundamentality. The subsequent breaking off of diplomatic relations can be seen as a consequence of these two variables. What is achieved is a polarized situation where the conflicting parties have no or little interaction. This may also explain the long duration of the conflicts, and the avoidance of direct military violence between the main senders and the receivers.

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137

The only way to reach a solution out of this situation is to wait for the effects of oblivion to work which makes it possible to regard the conflict as removed. This actually happened in the case of Yugoslavia. During 1953, five years after the imposition, contacts on the diplomatic level were resumed. With the visit to Belgrade by Khrushchev and Bulganin in 1955 the conflict was officially ‘forgotten’. Similar developments could be expected in other conflicts as well. No doubt this is underway in the case of Cuba,21 possibly in the case of Albania. The Rhodesia case is still too ‘fresh’ to be solved this way, but such a solution may not be far away, at least with regard to the present main sender. In the cases of South Africa, Portugal, and Israel, the development has been the opposite: the existence of sponsored military violence has made the process of oblivion impossible. The Israel case has continued for more than 20 years; the prospects may be similar for the cases of Portugal and South Africa. With another main sender, the Rhodesia case may turn the same way. The development of the Dominican Republic case stands out as exceptional. This was the only case where the duration was short and where compliance to the sender was achieved within these eight cases. It was further the only case where the main sender did not entirely break off all economic relations, and where the receiver could not receive support from other opponents to MS. Decisive for the outcome was the fact that the internal cohesion decreased after the imposition of sanctions. Connecting this with theory it might be argued that internal cohesion was low from the outset and that the economic sanctions put such pressure on the Dominican society that it fell apart.22 But it is also possible that the same thing might have occurred without imposing sanctions. The fact that only a certain part of the trade was broken off may indicate that well-aimed economic sanctions are better than an unsophisticated breaking off of all trade. No doubt, the relative isolation of the receiver is also important. Concerning internal cohesion, we should note that it is difficult to evaluate and compare the internal cohesion of the other receivers; thus, this not has been attempted here. The cases of Italy and the USSR are different on most of the variables of Table 6.8. They were instrumental sanctions, involving issues of low fundamentality for both sender and receiver. Diplomatic relations were maintained, which made negotiations easier than in the other eight cases. The two cases seem examples of conflicts where no attempt has been made to ‘escalate’ them into major ideological conflicts, though the possibility existed. Interaction between main sender and receiver was low, and R trade dependence about 10% (medium). This may have contributed to the ‘non-escalation’, but was also a feature of the inter-war period. The avoidance of military violence is remarkable and fits well into the picture of low-temperature conflicts. Some interesting differences exist which sheds light on

21

This was also indicated by J. K. Galbraith in Swedish TV, March, 1968. On the importance of initial cohesion see Coser, L., The Functions of Social Conflict, Glencoe: Free Press, 1956, p. 87 ff.

22

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the different outcomes. First, the UK experienced internal cleavages at the time of imposing sanctions on Italy (elections, changes of government), and the actions undertaken were obviously related to this. This may have lowered the British interest in a solution to the situation. Second, rank relation was symmetric in the case of Italy, but not in the case of the USSR. Italy, being a great power, had certain advantages over the USSR: economic strength, greater value as possible ally, etc. There also existed other opponents with whom Italy could align; the USSR had much more of an isolated situation. Third, the issue was of a somewhat lower fundamentality in the case of the USSR, receiving 2 on the index, while Italy was given score 4. This also increased the likelihood of a solution. Fourth, in the case of the USSR, the UK did not stop all trade, as was the case with Italy. Thus, we have fruitfully distinguished two types of sanctions along the dimensions of expressivity and fundamentality. They have been instituted in different ways, but their execution falls into these two types. The outcome will consequently be different, the ‘normal’ for the expressive-high fundamentality type being by oblivion, and for the instrumental-low fundamentality type being by compromise. The aim of the first type is often to achieve complete surrender by the receiver; this has only happened once, when some very favorable conditions were present. It is further noteworthy that the second type took place during the inter-war period, raising the possibility that it now is ‘out-moded’ by the first type.

6.5

Implications

By imposing economic sanctions the sender indicates that his purpose is to influence the receiver. From the content of the initial declaration we may see that the intention in general is to express the sender’s rejection of the receiver. Economic sanctions are useful as expressive acts in the international system, as they involve more spectacular measures than usually adopted, such as official notes. These acts, however, are badly suited for influencing the receiver: they seem to contribute to the stability of the receiver and increase popular support for the receiver government. To state that they are aimed to influence the receiver is much of a rationalization of the expressive need. Reducing trade with another nation actually means throwing away a set of possible instruments of influence. After such a break, the sender will have little or no influence on the development inside the receiver. The two cases where the receiver actually has been influenced are also examples where the sender only partly reduced his trade with the receiver. If one actually is interested in influencing a certain nation’s policy and not only satisfied with condemnation, economic sanctions have many of the same disadvantages as military action, due to their tendency to increase internal cohesion. What needs elaboration is more subtle methods of influence such as well-aimed breaks of specific parts of economic, diplomatic, communication, or other types of relations, and increased attention to positive sanctions.

Chapter 7

Targeting the Right Targets? The UN Use of Individual Sanctions Peter Wallensteen and Helena Grusell

Abstract In view of negative reactions to the use of economic sanctions during the 1990s, the UN developed targeted, “smart” sanctions. This meant a focus on particular individuals or commodities, rather than whole countries. In this unique study, published in 2012, nearly 450 individuals listed by the UN Security Council are categorized to understand the policy of targeting. The sanctions include freezing of assets and travel bans. The authors conclude the study with a discussion on the targeting of individuals.

7.1

The Rise of Smart Sanctions

Economic sanctions constitute one of the main tools for the United Nations to react to international crises.1 It is mentioned in the Charter under Chapter VII. Therefore it is important to analyze the operations of sanctions, most recently in the form of the targeting of particular individuals. In this article we build on a unique inventory of the close to 450 individuals who have been targeted by the UN, in the firs decade of the twenty-first century, in non-terrorist cases of sanctions. We analyze the individuals with respect to their closeness to power, and, thus, their ability to affect the chance of thee UN demands. Hence, this is a study of compliance to UN sanctions. The UN Security Council is the prime organ with a responsibility for international peace and security. In theory, when the Council acts, there is general agreement among the major powers, and there is considerable political will behind its actions – an application of global power. In practice many decisions are compromises between different actors, which may affect the design and implementation of the Council’s measures. In this article we study one such policy option: the

This chapter reproduces with permission Wallensteen, Peter and Helena Grusell 2012. “Targeting the Right Targets? The UN Use of Individual Sanctions”. Global Governance 18 (2): 207–230. Valuable comments from Loraine Richard-Martin are acknowledged, but the authors remain solely responsible for the content. It represents a study from SPITS, the Special Program on International Targeted Sanctions, https://pcr.uu.se/research/smartsanctions/. 1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_7

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sanctioning of individuals to achieve member state compliance with the Council’s decision. In the late 1990s the United Nations Security Council started the practice of targeted sanctions, which meant dealing with particular commodities (for instance, diamonds, minerals, oil), arms, aviation and particular individuals when imposing sanctions. Previously, the focus had been on entire countries. This approach ran into humanitarian trepidations, which were much discussed in the case of the sanctions on Iraq. The chief concern was the possible adverse impact that comprehensive sanctions could have on the most vulnerable segments of the population.2 The targeting of individuals took on a new dimension when confronting international terrorism. This was seen as action by small groups and, thus, diffusely targeted sanctions would not get the intended compliance. To target the actual or potential culprits seems to be a valid form of action. If coupled to bans that prevent the target’s sale of some commodities or purchase of some others (e.g. arms) this could be a more effective tool without negative consequences for bystanders or outsiders. Quickly such UN sanctions were labeled “smart sanctions”. Later the European Union, African Union and individual countries have since embarked on the similar policy. Today, targeted sanctions against individuals, particular commodities and arms embargoes are the only type of sanctions used by these international organizations, and by governments. An effect is that sanctions debates have focused less on humanitarian impact and more on the human rights of the targeted individuals.3 It is time to take stock of this development and go back to the original ideas: how smart are the smart sanctions? The idea of targeting sanctions at individuals not only was an innovative way of making the sanctions instrument legitimate in the international system. It also was in line with a global development of giving accountability a stronger role, also in international affairs. It was morally appealing to demonstrate that decision-makers

2

David Cortright and George Lopez. Smart Sanctions: Targeting Economic Statecraft, Landham, Md: Rowman & Littlefield, 2002. Peter Wallensteen. A Century of Economic Sanctions: A Field Revisited. Uppsala Peace Research Papers No. 1, Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research 2000. Aaron Griffiths with Catherine Barnes (eds) Power of Persuasion. Incentives, sanctions and conditionality in peacemaking. Accord. London: Conciliation Resources, 2008. 3 T.J. Bierstecker, S.E. Eckert, A. Halegua, N. Reid, and P. Romaniuk. Targeted Financial Sanctions: A Manual for Design and Implementation – Contributions from the Interlaken Process. Brown University: Watson Institute for International Studies, 2001. Michael Brzoska (ed), Design and Implementation of Arms Embargoes and Travel and Aviation Related Sanctions: Results of the ‘Bonn-Berlin Process’: Bonn: International Center for Conversion, 2001. Peter Wallensteen, Carina Staibano, Mikael Eriksson. Making Targeted Sanctions Effective. Guidelines for the Implementation of UN Policy Options. Report from The Stockholm Process, Uppsala 2003. Peter Wallensteen and Carina Staibano (eds). International Sanctions. Between words and wars in the global system. New York, London: Routledge/Frank Cass. 2005.

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were not personally exempt from the impact and reactions their policies were causing. Thus, the idea of freezing financial assets for such individuals and preventing them from international travel was attractive. It was expected to lead to a change of policy and behavior in the direction desired by the senders (“compliance”). In this article we consider whether these were realistic expectations or if there is a need for further reform of the sanctions instrument. A debate on the human rights of the listed individuals has questioned the UN procedure and tarnished the images of the “smartness” of this type sanctions. Clarity of the reasons for listing (and delisting) was seen as a matter of human rights of the listed individuals and a question of the effectiveness of the sanctions tool. Without knowing the reasons for the sanctions, it is difficult for the listed individuals to change his or her behavior. Clarity also makes it easier to monitor the individuals’ actions to know when they in fact comply with the sanction and when they can be delisted. The reforms in the practices of the Security Council taken in its Resolution 1904 of December 2009 was a response to this, and it remains to be seen whether these measures are sufficient. For instance, the office of the ombudsperson was created to ensure the human rights of a listed individual. The officer is to receive requests for delisting, evaluate and consider them, and serve as a link between the individual, the state and the UN.4 These measures may have resulted in fewer names being listed because the reason for each listing has to be specified. This, furthermore, will make it easier to follow the individuals and their behavior since the monitoring teams now know what behavior to evaluate. These measures would serve to improve fairness and credibility of the UN procedures.5 It remains, however, to be considered whether the measures also achieve desired compliance. Thus, we evaluated whether the sanctions are aimed at individuals that can change government policy, and, then, to what extent that takes place. We did this by first developing the theory of targeted sanctions and then conducted an empirical study of targeted individuals based on open sources. We protected the listed persons’ identities in this work, unless such information was already in the public domain. We scrutinized reports of compliance and violations of the sanctions to evaluate the implementation of the actions. This empirical analysis, then, applies a typology of the closeness of the individuals to the powers that be in the targeted country. In other words, is the targeted individual really in a position of affect the policies pursued? Finally, we provide conclusions for sanctions research and sanctions policy.

4

David Cortright. Patterns of Implementation. Do Listing Practices Impede Compliance with UN Sanctions? A Critical Assessment. Policy Brief. Sanctions and Security Research Program, Fourth Freedom Foundation and Kroc Institute of International Peace Studies, University of Notre Dame 2009. 5 Ibid.

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The Theory of Targeting Individuals

The literature on sanctions draws on the practical experience, but there is relevant research (for instance in social psychology) that should also be part of the discourse. Going to the public policy debate there are many different logical expectations of what individually targeted sanctions may accomplish. In the context of counter-terrorism, it is assumed that freezing of assets actually may prevent new terror attacks, as it deprives the individuals from non-state organization of important resources. However, if the purpose is to stop a civil war, change a regime or change basic security policies of a country, the argument has to be different. In these cases, assets held by the individual are not essential for governments or the organization. The expectation is instead that the exposure to sanctions makes the individual an advocate of a change of policy. Targeting a particular individual is a way to get him or her to act in consonance with the sanctions initiator (the sender) and contribute to change in the real target (the recalcitrant government or organization). We have organized the seven predicted effects or types of outcomes that we found under three main labels (see Table 7.1). The outcomes can be seen as steps on a ladder beginning with small incentives for improved behavior culminating in threats of or actual escalation. This will be the basis for our assessment of the present practice of targeting international sanctions. Table 7.1 demonstrates that there are many and varied expectations when senders impose sanctions. To some extent, they may be formulated into a coherent targeting policy. If the sender (the UN in our case) is pursuing theories belonging to categories 1, 2 and 3 the idea is that sanctions will be removed, once behavior has changed. This is an instrumental use of sanctions. In such a case, the sanctions may result in direct or indirect negotiations between the sender and the ultimate target (the government or the organization to which the targeted individual belongs). Furthermore, to the sender there is also a fallback position. If there is no change, sanctions may still have type 4 and type 5 ambitions. They are a way of increasing pressure on the target. The same is true, explicitly or implicitly, for type 6 and 7 goals. If even more hardship is threated or actually implemented the target will comply. This could amount to a unified theory behind targeting individuals. The personal conditions in which the targets find themselves would give them particular incentives to change behavior and also influence other to do the same. However, as we show below, this is not necessarily the way these sanctions are applied. Unfortunately, a review of literature from social psychology, criminology and law complicates the picture.6 There are many rational and emotional reasons for why decision-makers still may not change policy. They may even turn the imposed

6

G. Hogg and M.A. Vaughan. Introduction to Social Psychology, French Forest, Sydney, Australia; Pearson Education Australia 2005. B.S. Frey. Dealing with Terrorism: Stick or Carrot? Edward Elgar Publishing, Inc. 2004.

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Table 7.1 Logically Expected Effects of Individually Targeted Sanctions. Source: The authors Initiate Bargaining for Compliance 1. The sanctions give individuals a personal stake in making their country/government comply with particular international demands. 2. The sanctions deter the individuals from deciding on/supporting policies that would make a particular situation more complicated, e.g. prevent escalation. 3. The sanctions make targeted individuals interested in negotiating a way out of a particular predicament, thus resulting, for instance, in peace talks and peace agreements. Deprive Resources from the Target (shift balance of power) 4. The sanctions make it impossible for the actor to carry out activities, either immediately (not pursue war as there are no arms deliveries) or for the future (not be able to travel to set up a plot). 5. The sanctions are a punishment for past lack of compliance by the targeted individuals, and/or for the policies they were pursuing/supporting in place of other forms of accountability for their actions. For instance, not being able to consume luxury goods and send children to expensive schools abroad is expected to affect the private conditions of sanctioned individuals. Threaten Potential Target (sanctions escalation) 6. Sanctions on some individuals signals to others still not listed, thus making them willing to comply, in line with points 1, 2 or 3, rather than becoming exposed to these measures. 7. Sanctions is a step on a ladder leading to other, more coercive actions against the government and the state, constituting larger threats to the survival of the incumbent regime.

measures into their advantage.7 The literature lists a number of factors that speak against compliance. To these factors belongs the significance of the sender to the target (the less important, the less reason to change). Legitimacy is a measure of such a connection. Peter Verboon and Marius van Djike argue that authorities enacting sanctions in fair manner are considered more legitimate in communicating what is morally acceptable. Tom R. Tyler also argues that a sense of obligation increases effectiveness.8 The first three ways in which sanctions work draws on such psychological insights. The sanctions are seen as an appeal to common understanding and, thus, would result in negotiations. However, if this communality does not exist, there will be no compliance. Douglas D. Heckathorn points to the (lack of) clarity of the purpose with the sanctions, which means that the target does not know what to respond to. Effect is also reduced if considerable time that has lapsed between deplorable behavior, the sanctions decision and imposition of sanctions. The severity of the measures for the Johan Galtung. “On the Effects of International Economic Sanctions: With Examples from the Case of Rhodesia.” World Politics 1967. 19 (3): 378–416. Tom R. Tyler. Why People Obey the Law. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. 2006. Soren C. Winter and Peter J. May. “Motivation for Compliance with Environmental Regulations”, Journal of Policy Analysis and Management, 2001 20(4): 675–698. 8 Peter Verboon and Marius van Dijke, “When Do Severe Sanctions Enhance Compliance? The Role of Procedural Fairness”, Journal of Economic Psychology 32 (2011): 120–130; Tom R. Tyler “Psychological Perspectives on Legitimacy and Legitimations”, Annual Review of Psychology 57 (2006): 375–400. 7

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individual and his or her family will affect the individual’s motives and will to resist. There is also a degree of calculation of what compliance will mean and what can be achieved without complying. These are considerations that influence how an individual reacts when exposed to external pressure and the same factors are likely to have an impact on the efficacy of the sanctions in achieving the outcome desired by the sender.9 The second and third category of sanctions impacts actually points to sanctions as coercive and punitive instruments rather than inducements for change. The sender tries deliberately to eliminate the target’s resources for continued political existence. By listing these conditions, we make clear that there is not likely to be a straightforward connection between imposing sanctions and recording compliance. The Security Council may, in fact, be unclear about its aims and not pursue the actions as eagerly as might be expected or necessary. On the targeted side, the individuals will have incentives to find ways in which to compensate themselves from the impact of the sanctions, circumventing the measures and building counter-alliances, domestically and internationally. The hardships that follow may even be turned into marks of honor, demonstrating solidarity, patriotism and loyalty with the established course of action. Furthermore, the lower an individual is placed in the hierarchy of decision-making of the targeted country the fewer opportunities there will be for an individual to actually influence the course of action that the sanctions aim at changing. The individual may not even be able to change the operations in which he or she participates (for instance, in a nuclear production facility) other than possibly delaying action or making errors that will be hard to notice on the outside and rather risk their employment. In other words, there are compelling reasons to hypothesize that the sanctions will lead to changes in behavior only under very specific conditions. Such conditions may only partly relate to the seven types of expected outcomes. The scholarly literature is limited with respect to the impact of sanctions on particular individuals. A first work was Erica Cosgrave’s 2005 interview study of two individuals listed for a travel ban under the Liberia sanctions in 2001.10 She reports that one of the individuals felt this to be a stigmatization, but it did not influence his view of the conflict. The second individual, a cabinet minister at the time, did not see the sanctions as targeted on him specifically but on the government as a whole. Thus, the sanctions did not change his view either. Interestingly he studied the UN sanctions reports on violations, which revealed to him what President Charles Taylor was doing with the resources. This made him question whether the president could perform properly. The minister managed to escape abroad and then could resign. New information, in other words, may have a

Douglas D. Heckathorn. “Collective Sanctions and Compliance Norms: A Formal Theory of Group-Mediated Formal Control” American Sociological Review, 1990, Vol. 55 (June) 366-384. 10 Erica Cosgrove. “Examining Targeted Sanctions: Are Travel Bans Effective?” in Peter Wallensteen and Carina Staibano ibid, pp 207–228. 9

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stronger impact on a person that a particular targeted measure. He chose this dramatic course of action, because he felt he could not influence Taylor’s policies. Still, the sanctions are likely to have affected these individuals: they were aware of the measures, and they seem to have tried to handle their dilemma on a personal level (by escaping, for instance) rather than in a political way. Following Cosgrave, other authors have conducted interviews with targeted individuals, for instance in Western Africa and Zimbabwe.11 Sometimes these individuals have also gone public about their situation, such as Jewel Taylor of Liberia, a former wife of Charles Taylor, who has described some of the effects in details and has repeatedly stated that the sanctions imposed on her should be lifted.12 However, the individual sanctions also have humanitarian exemptions, so that the individual should not experiencing crippling personal effects. Too punitive measures might generate public sympathy. A number of court cases have arisen from the listing of individuals based on the protection of the human rights of these individuals. These cases give little guidance, however, on the impact of sanctions on individuals, apart from testimony to their personal plight. Also, leaders have been brought to courts, for example, when accused of war crimes. The Special Court for Sierra Leone presently is trying the former president of Liberia. His gift of a large diamond to a celebrity created a lot of media attention, but the sanctions were not important in this connection. Given the paucity of ideas for the conditions under which individuals may comply, we embarked on an empirical investigation. At present, the number of individuals listed is large, the names are openly available and it is possible to pursue a systematic study. In this project we reported on eight UN sanctions active in the years 2000–2009, i.e. for a ten-year period. We traced the individuals listed for the eight cases in open sources in order to find observations on their compliance with the sanction measures (travel bans and frozen assets) and their change of political behavior in the direction demanded by the UN. In particular we are interested in their ability to actually change the direction of a government’s policy in the country (i.e. their closeness to the ultimate decision-making.) As is obvious from the sanctions theory shown in Table 7.1, the targeted individuals are expected to be able to exert influence. However, as Cosgrove found, even cabinet ministers can have little power over the decisions that resulted in the imposition of sanctions.13 We first review the eight cases.

11

Peter Wallensteen, Mikael Eriksson and Daniel Strandow. Sanctions for Conflict Prevention and Peacebuilding. Lessons Learned from Côte d’Ivoire and Liberia. Department of Peace and Conflict Research: Uppsala University 2006. Mikael Eriksson, Rethinking Targeted Sanctions. Ph. D. Dissertation, Florence: European University Institute 2009. Mikael Eriksson. Targeting the Leadership of Zimbabwe. A Path to Democracy and Normalization? Uppsala University: SPITS 2007, for website, see Footnote 1. 12 Frontline, June 23, 2010. “Grave ‘Injustice’: Women Press for Sanctions Lift on Taylor's Ex, Jewel”. 13 Cosgrove, “Examining Targeted Sanctions”.

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Eight Cases of UN Sanctions 2000–2009

The dataset includes all cases and all persons listed for a travel ban or assets freeze by the UN under Chapter VII in the 10-year period from 1 January 2000 to 31 December 2009 with the exception of the cases that concern terrorist actions. Thus, the dataset has information on eight countries. As of this writing, in only one case (Angola 2002) has the sanctions measure been fully lifted. The total number of persons listed and the type of sanctions they are subject to sanctions can be seen in Table 7.2 (many individuals from Liberia and Sierra Leone have now been removed by the UN, often without any specific reason given; in other cases because of death). The dataset includes events describing listed individuals’ behavior of evasion or compliance in relation the sanctions measures. For instance, we recorded if an individual continued the sanctions activity (evasion) or change behavior in a positive way such as being engaged in a peace process or handing in weapons (compliance). Also we recorded public statement such as whether the listed person denied all reasons for the listing (evasion) or admitted that the listing did change his or her behavior (compliance). For each listed individual we search for information in open data sources and databases, such as Dow Jones Factiva and in annual reports of the various Security Council Sanctions Committees, reports from panels of experts and press releases. We also collected reasons for listing and delisting. We found most of the information in the material from the Security Council. For some key persons on whom several events were reported in the first search round, we carried out a second search in the Factiva database to get deeper into the specific case. We also conduced interviews with some key persons in their respective home countries, notably Liberia and Côte d’Ivoire.14 We now present descriptive information from the dataset. Mostly the sanctions measures aim at preventing travel of the individuals. This has been more common than the freezing of assets held by the individuals (Table 7.2). All the targeted countries are classified as developing countries, which means that most of the population depends on agriculture and not on international connections. This means that the travel ban hit at typical elite resources. For most of the countries, the leaders are likely to benefit from exportable resources and therefor need to be able to travel to make trade agreements or personal economic arrangements. Thus, reduction in the ability to travel may have particularly severe repercussions that may induce compliance or negotiations with the sender. The travel bans and asset freezes may have some merits as separate action. Preventing travel means limiting interactions, and thus reduces private information sharing (e.g. because phone lines may be monitored). On the whole, however, travel

14

Peter Wallensteen, Mikael Eriksson, and Daniel Strandow, Sanctions for Conflict Prevention and Peace Building: Lessons Learned from Côte d’Ivoire and Liberia (Uppsala University, Department of Peace and Conflict Research, 2006); UN Security Council Sanction Committees, https://www.un.org/securitycouncil/sanctions/information.

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Table 7.2 UN Non-Terrorist Sanctions. Total Number of Individuals Listed. Travel bans and Assets freeze measures, January 1, 2000–December 31, 2009. Cases in alphabetical order. Sources: Compiled by the authors from UN Security Council Sanction Committees’ annual reports, reports of the panel of experts, and press releases Country

Number of listed individuals

Sanction: Travel ban

Sanction: Assets freeze

Angola (UNITA) 166 166 166 Congo DRC 20 20 20 Côte d’Ivoire 3 3 3 Iran 39 39 39 Liberia 152 152 29 North Korea 5 5 5 (DPRK) Sierra Leone 57 57 57 Sudan 4 4 4 Total 446 446 323 Note 1: Total number of individuals listed. Travel bans and assets freeze measures, 1 January 2000 to 31 December 2009. Countries in alphabetical order Note 2: There is a threat of sanctions in connection with the investigation of the assassination of former Lebanese prime minister Rafic Hariri in 2005, but no individuals had been listed as of this writing. In December 2009, sanctions were also imposed on Eritrea, where one organization and eight individuals were listed in April 2010, too late to be included in this study

bans and asset freezes have been used simultaneously and probably with a supporting argument. The travel ban prevents a targeted person from physically entering the banks, financial institutions or other locations holding his or her assets, if they are outside the country. Not having access to these assets makes the person willing to comply according to one of the expected effects presented in Table 7.1. Furthermore, without direct access to one’s assets travel is more difficult. Theoretically, the individual is boxed in and the sanction measures reinforce each other. Seeing no way out, compliance follows according to the logic of type 1. This logic can be questioned: in today’s world of instant communication financial resources can be moved without travel, making it necessary to have an independent argument for travel bans. Also, the country of residence for this individual may not apply the sanctions, which has been the case of Liberia. This means individuals may have access to local banks. Lately, also nationally owned banks have been listed under UN sanctions, notably in the cases of nuclear non-proliferation (Iran and North Korea). This leads us to a first conclusion: Given this financial mobility it might now be necessary for the Security Council to explain the use of the travel ban. For example, it might be argued that it is the measure felt most strongly for the individual. He or she may be able to borrow money, but not easily disguise himself or herself. The travel ban may give the most personal discomfort of these measures.

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This suggests that the travel ban has not been a measure to prevent listed persons from accessing funds. Rather it has been a way of preventing them from continuing their luxury lifestyles. To travel to Europe, Asia and USA for their children’s schooling, for non-urgent medical treatments and for luxury shopping has a value in itself. It is seen as evidence of social success and political legitimacy, particularly in an African context. This argument has support in social psychology. Social motivations have to do with earning approval and respect from significant persons with whom the target interacts.15 By depriving (or at least complicating) this behavior, the travel ban accomplishes a type 5 effect that we describe in Table 7.1. It is not likely to be something that is revealed in interviews, and was not mentioned by any of our interviewees. More likely the targeted individuals mentioned hardships that generate human sympathy (e.g. medical concerns). The travel ban imposed against Liberians under Security Council Resolution 1342 (2001) was originally recommended by the Panel of Experts on Sierra Leone. The recommendation was that the travel ban should be in effect until Liberia’s support to the Revolutionary United Front (RUF) and Liberia’s violation of other UN sanctions ended conclusively (S/2000/1195). Thus it was imposed in a bargaining mood, notably according to the type 1-3 ambitions in Table 7.1. However, only gradually were these sanctions removed and by mid-2010, forty-five individuals were still listed for travel ban and twenty-two for asset freeze. The first listings were clearly done in a somewhat haphazard way. The theory of targeting was poorly developed at the time. This type of unpredictability is one of the critical concerns that have been raised. Many individuals did not know why they had been listed, what they could do about it and how they could be delisted.16 Needless to say, this does not reinforce a willingness to comply with the sanctions. On all these points, however, the sanctions have been gradually improved; in particular the reforms of December 2009 have strengthened the transparency of this measure, even creating a position as an ombudsman for complaints. This clearly enhances the legitimacy of this measure. The data in Table 7.2 actually present a downward trend over time in listing of individuals. The large numbers are from the early cases of targeted sanctions (Angola, Liberia, Sierra Leone), with more than fifty names listed for each of the cases. Later sanctions do not have lists anywhere near as close. This appears to reflect a change in the Council’s approach. The extensive listing in the earlier cases implied considerable enthusiasm for this measure. Later, however, human rights concern emerged, no doubt impacting on the entire listing procedure. Also, there were new arguments favoring lower numbers. In the case of Côte d’Ivoire, the group of experts reported in October 2006, that the sanctions had a calming effect and that the targeting of a few individuals with clear criteria was an effective tool for the UN. It also said it would be counter-productive to target more individuals, particularly if there was no effective monitoring system in place (S/2006/735).

15

Winter and May, ibid. Cosgrave ibid. and Wallensteen et al. ibid. 2006 give examples of this.

16

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Monitoring of a few persons is obviously easier than dealing with a large number. The present practice of only naming a few individuals means there is an awareness of the complications of large lists, but it may also leave open for the addition of new names, thus implying a threat of escalation, according to impact types 6 and 7. This leads, however to a new question. How many should be targeted for the sanctions to achieve desired political change? The different expectations listed in Table 7.1 do not give clear guidance. The idea of gradually escalating sanctions, according to categories 6 and 7, would suggest sanctions should start with a few, thus generating fear among others. A gradual increasing of the number of individuals would thus be a signal to the target that the sanctions are tightening and getting more teeth. To avoid being targeted, the argument goes, the potentially targeted individuals would be willing to comply, thereby also getting their compatriots off the list. In addition, one may argue, in social psychological terms, that if an entire group is targeted (i.e. a large number of individuals) the effect is likely to be that they all unite in opposition against the sender. It may have the same effect as comprehensive sanctions: stimulating an attitude of ‘we are all in this together.’ A stronger differentiation by focusing on some well identified individuals would then have – at least potentially – a greater chance of achieving political change. However, in interviews done in Côte d’Ivoire in 2006, the sanctions against only three persons –seen as fairly peripheral in political power, although they had violated the UN resolution – threatened the credibility of the sanctions. The measure appeared not to be as dangerous as first believed, centrally placed informants said, also describing them as hitting ‘small fish’.17 The sanctions, which initially seemed tough and dangerous to leading persons, turned out to be targeted at others than those actually responsible for the policies pursued. Furthermore, as the idea of gradually enlarging the group – following the dynamics of type 6-7 in Table 7.1 – did not gain support in the UN; the individual sanctions were no longer seen as threatening. The three remained the only ones listed up to the end of the period studied.18 The targeted sanctions lost credibility in this case. As there were other measures in place parallel to the sanctions international actions still had some clout (peacekeeping, arms embargo, mediation).19 Ineffective actions affect the standing of an international organization such the UN and the European Union, not just the credibility of the particular measure. We cannot prove it with available information, but it is also likely that ‘bigger fish’ will still learn something from the sanctions on citizens of the country. They 17

Wallensteen et al. ibid. 2006. In March 2011, the Security Council imposed sanctions on President Laurent Gbagbo together with four others, but by then the situation had already deteriorated into an armed conflict. UN Security Council Resolution, 30 March 2011, No. 1975. 19 Peter Wallensteen, Erik Melander and Frida Möller 2012. “Preventing Genocide: The International Response” in Mark Anstey, Paul Meerts and I. William Zartman (eds) Reducing Identity Conflicts and Preventing Genocide, Oxford University Press, pp. 280–305 (see below chapter 20). 18

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are likely to take pre-cautions, notably moving assets out of reach or hiding them in less identifiable forms (e.g. nominally turning over bank accounts or real estate to relatives, turning assets into other resources). Thus, rather than complying, leading targets may take the threat of sanctions seriously and act to undo the sanctions before they even have been brought into place. This means that the threat of gradually escalating the sanctions may backfire and, thus, make targeted sanctions less able to succeed. The dynamics of type 6 become less likely. We pose this as a second conclusion: The Council may use targeting as a gradual process, where a few are listed first, and with a lack of compliance, new individuals are added to the list. However, it is possible that sanctions will work as an early warning signal, for instance, giving reasons and time for other actors to move or cover their assets. Thus, this policy may be most effective if initiated at the top, rather than lower in the hierarchy. Perhaps a strategy of targeting ‘big fish’ would be more in line with both sanctions theory (as outlined in Table 7.1) and with reality. We look at this more systematically in the following section.

7.4

Closeness to Power

The sanction theories suggest that sanctions on those that take the final decisions should be the most effective. Thus, we need to identify the relationship of the listed persons to such ultimate decisions makers or whether the listed persons actually are such decision-makers. The targeted persons can be categorized with respect to their closeness to policy-making. This is a way to gauge if they have power and influence in the society. Those responsible could be expected to have different reaction patterns than those without much influence on the policies chosen. The theory of targeted sanctions assumes that leadership is key. Attempting such a differentiation, we developed four target categories with respect to closeness to ultimate decision-making in the society: • Leaders (L) are obviously those directly responsible for the actions that the international community is objecting to. • Administrators (A) is a separate group, indispensable for the execution of policy, but possibly less able to actually formulate or change such policies. • A third group consists of the supporters (S) of the leadership, ranging from family members to party members and local decision-makers. They are all needed for the leadership, but largely without much influence on what that leadership actually does. • Finally, a more difficult group to relate to the policies is the traders (T), the agents that deal with the actual international transactions that the sanctions aim to reduce (e.g. individuals involved in commerce, transportation, banking, smuggling). They are likely to be very significant for the conduct of policy, but again probably have little direct impact on the formulation of such policies.

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Thus we assume that the four groups are distinct and stand in different relationships to ultimate policy-making. The logical order of influence would go from leaders, to administrators and supporters, and finally traders. We have applied these categories to the 446 names using publicly available information of the targeted individuals, and were able to place 85 percent of them in one of the four categories. Some remain unidentified or have unclear relations to decision-making and were kept in a separate group (O, Others). In all, there were 59 leaders, 209 administrators, 80 supporters, and 34 traders listed. For 64 individuals there was no or little information available and they were kept in the fifth group. This result shows that administrators constitute about half of all the targeted individuals. The logic behind this targeting pattern is not easy to understand. The original idea of sanctions was that it would deal with the (ultimately) responsible actors. Clearly the responsible elite is a small group in any society. It is dependent on administrators to function, but at the same time administrators are likely to have less of a chance to change prevailing policies. They may be necessary, but not sufficient for a particular policy. Table 7.3 suggests an important trend in the use of individual sanctions: In the Liberia case the targeted leaders constituted a considerable part of all listed (38 in all, including the two mentioned in Cosgrove’s work20), whereas later sanctions, such as those on North Korea and Iran have not listed any leaders at all. In the latter cases, administrators and supporters constitute the overwhelming number as only two traders had been listed. However, Sudan’s goes against the trend. In this case only individuals in the leadership category were targeted. Thus, the data may no reflect a consistent trend but rather the lack of a coherent general sanctions policy: each case may be dealt entirely in its own right. This suggests that there is no clear theory about the selection of targets. For instance, to achieve type 6-7 reactions of Table 7.1, credibility in signaling and deterrence builds on consistency in behavior. If the potential target knows that he or she is likely to be targeted, as seen by previous action, this may have an impact. The case-by-case targeting of sanctions does not reinforce such a notion. Instead, the lack of a consistent targeting strategy may strengthen the targeted actor’s belief that the sanctions is a punishment (that is, belong to categories 4 and 5) rather than a bargaining tool (according to logics of categories 1, 2 and 3). There is, no doubt, a case for targeting administrators in the situations of nuclear energy programs. They may be the technical staff that is necessary for running the operations. Thus, listing them may affect their willingness to carry out the orders of the regime. However, their personal hardship – if any – is not likely to sway the regimes. Most likely the nuclear programs are defined as “patriotic” undertakings and “worthy of personal sacrifice”. We surmise that the administrators have little choice but continue to carry out their orders. In fact, doing the opposite would get them into trouble. They would know this and thus they may work more diligently

Cosgrove, “Examining Targeted Sanctions”, op.cit.

20

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Table 7.3 Individual Sanctions and Closeness to Power. Number of Individuals by Category. Source: The authors Angola (UNITA) Congo DRC Côte d’Ivoire Iran Liberia North Korea (DPRK) Sierra Leone Sudan Total

Leaders

Administrators

Supporters

Traders

Others

Total

4

73

21

5

63

166

10 1 0 38 0

3 0 22 51 5

0 2 15 42 0

7 0 2 20 0

0 0 0 1 0

20 3 39 152 5

2 4 59

55 0 209

0 0 80

0 0 34

0 0 64

57 4 446

than before in order to demonstrate their loyalty. The only alternative may otherwise be to escape the country (as we saw in the case of the cabinet minister from Liberia, although belonging to the group of leaders, he said he had little chance to influence policy). There are reports on such escapes in the Iran case, although not by persons who were on the target list. It suggests – from the UN point of view – that allowing technical staff to travel may be more effective than banning them from going abroad. A third conclusion then is: it makes more sense to target only those responsible for making the strategic decisions, in line with the original idea of making leaders accountable for their actions. This is where Realpolitik enters. Sanctioning top leaders has often proven difficult. In the case of Africa leaders have obviously been considered for sanctions but in the end no action has been taken. There has not been sufficient consensus or political will for such high-profile measures. Looking at the list of names in the studied cases we find only ten top leaders. Two were listed in the case of Angola (Vice President Antonio Dembo and President Jonas Savimbi, both leaders of UNITA), six in the case of Liberia (among those were Vice President Moses Blah and President Charles Taylor), one in the case of Sierra Leone (Johnny Paul Koroma, who reportedly died under mysterious circumstances in 2003)21 and one in the case of Sudan (the general commanding Sudanese forces in Darfur). What we can see in this data is that more recently, there has been a reluctance to target leader in several highly authoritarian countries such as Iran and North Korea as well as in civil war divided Cote d’Ivoire. Also, in Sudan the President himself is not on the list. This is remarkable in view of the fact that the targeting of lower echelons is likely to be less effective in generating dynamics towards compliance,

21

There are continuous rumors around this person. See, for instance, https://standardtimespress. org/?p=7682.

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as mentioned above, and that the arguments for sanctions focus on the top leaders. Indeed, the moral argument of accountability also points to this level as the central one for sanctions. In the case of Sudan, the International Criminal Court has actually been more willing to identify the ultimate decision-maker. There are ways in which the Realpolitik considerations also enter in the timing of the sanctions. For instance, the targeted financial sanctions in the case of Liberia came too late to affect the removal of Charles Taylor from Liberia since he had left for his exile in Nigeria in August 2003, before the imposition of financial sanctions. However, the UN Security Council decision in May 2003 could be seen as a threat. Furthermore, in this case the intention was to deprive Taylor of possible financial means to stage a new insurgency and return to Liberia. This would be an example of a type 4 goal of targeted sanction. If sanctions had an impact at all on Taylor’s decision to relinquish power, it may more be an effect of the overall status of the economy (see below) or the UN arms embargo, than his personal situation. As he remained at large, however, the idea of preventing him for accessing externally deposited resources for staging a return is valid. The fact that he was on a sanctions list would also deprive him of legitimacy. In fact, we may note that the sanctions on Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein and his entourage were instituted only in May 22, 2003, after he had effectively been removed from power (UN SCR 2003:1483). In this, as well as in the Taylor case, such post-power sanctions could be seen as part of a peacebuilding effort: it may reduce the ability of the former regime representatives to amass resources for undermining the new regime or restarting war efforts. In that sense such efforts complement other measures taken by the international community. One-sided arms embargoes may have a similar effect of reinforcing a new status quo (for instance, for Rwanda). This, then, reinforces the point that targeting the top leadership, whether in power or recently deposed, may be the most significant action for ending a war or keeping the peace. Still, we have to conclude that the targeted sanctions had a stronger focus on the top levels of decision-makers in the early uses and lately have turned towards the lower levels. This means that the individual sanctions may now work more to test the loyalty of lower echelons to the present regime rather than undermining its policies. For people on this level, notably administrators in nuclear programs or heads of particular government agencies, being listed on sanctions lists is likely to be uncomfortable and also induce them to demonstrate their adherence to established policies by pursuing them more effectively than before. The only rewards and protection they can get is to be more supportive with the established order than before. This form of targeting sanctions, we suggest, is not likely to achieve internationally desired compliance. The bargaining dynamics of types 1-3 does not apply, as the individuals are not in a position to bargaining, types 6-7 only affects those not listed. Thus types 4 and 5 become dominant: Sanctions appear as punishments, rather than as an instrument for change for individuals in categories of administrators and supporters. Thus we draw a fourth conclusion, this time focusing on the UN uses of sanctions over time: although top leadership is the one that can affect change, the

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Security Council has become more cautious in actually targeting such individuals. This caution, we surmise, may make individually targeted sanctions less like to achieve compliance, thus suggesting that a bolder approach may be more effective.22 Thus far we have commented on the categories of leaders, administrators and supporters. Matters may, in fact, be different when going to the level of traders. Traders are the individuals that actually pursue actions that may involve violations of sanctions. There is some information on this category that is important, particularly in the case of Liberia. According to the Panel of Experts on Liberia the country suffered an economic crisis during the spring 2003 that threatened the stability in the country with increased risk of violence. The government of President Taylor didn’t have sufficient resources to deal with these problems. Much of the extra-budgetary income had been used for funding defense expenditure. The Panel obtained evidence that the government had been hiding extra budgetary incomes in foreign bank accounts. More than 10 percent of the Liberian government’s average annual income since 1999 consisted of funds placed in foreign bank accounts. International observers, in fact, believed that the official revenue data could be undervalued by as much as 50%. The report mentions ten foreign bank accounts in Geneva, New Jersey, New York, and Shanghai. Sanjivan Ruprah, listed for travel ban and assets freeze, and Hotel Africa, whose owner Gus Kouwenhoven was listed under both sanctions, were mentioned as account owners on this list (S/2003/498, §148–153).23 Thus, certain individuals can perform roles, which are central for the government. Targeting them constitutes an additional argument for sanctions. With such a focus, sanctions accomplish the effects indicated under type 4 and 5 in Table 7.1 (i.e. actually depriving the ultimate target the resources needed for pursuing the policies to which the international community objects). In October 2003, the Liberia sanctions panel reported that President Moses Blah, who had replaced Taylor on his departure in August the same year, had not been able to prevent Taylor’s associates from diverting government revenues. The monopolistic structure of Liberia’s economy and foreign control over natural resources, trade and manufacturing were important explanations for this diversion strategy, the panel argued. Profits from fuel and rice imports and benefits from the logging industry went straight to Taylor’s associates or to foreign bank accounts. In June 2003 the Central Bank of Liberia paid a loan in cash to officials of the government. The panel reports that there were strong indications that USD 70 000 was surrendered to Taylor and that he took this money with him to his exile in Nigeria.24 22

The targeting of President Gbagbo in March 2011 does not change this trend, as the sanctions were imposed at a time when his standing was already severely undermined. 23 On June 7, 2006 a Dutch court found the 63-year old timber merchant guilty of breaking the UN arms embargo on Liberia. He was sentenced to eight years in prison but was acquitted of war crimes charges (‘Gus Gets 8 Years’, 8 June 2006, All Africa). 24 S/2003/937, §55–80.

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There are other examples of the same kind and the message becomes clear. With a large portion of the revenues placed on foreign accounts (under the control of Taylor and his associates) it may have been difficult to trace them. Throughout the years, the Panel has been able to identify certain foreign accounts and the UN has managed to freeze many of them for listed individuals. There are also many observations on evasions. Ms. Agnes Reeves Taylor, a former wife of Charles Taylor, for instance, managed to relocate a large portion of her finances to relatives’ accounts before the sanctions came into effect.25 The efforts that went into monitoring of financial freezes on Liberia is remarkable, suggesting that in this case the individuals sanctions may have created uncertainty among many Liberians as to whether they would have access to their assets or not. Uncertainty may be enough to induce some degree of political change, following the logics of types 6 and 7. Looking at the travel ban we find some interesting information. Sixteen of those listed under Liberia sanctions were reported to have been evading the travel ban more than once. Using our categories three were leaders, one an administrator, five supporters, six traders and one other. Two of the six traders travelled frequently. One was Victor Bout, with many reported incidents, and the other Mohamed Salame with twenty-nine reported incidents. Their travel is likely to have been fundamental for the service they could provide to the Charles Taylor regime. Just for the record, the four administrators from Liberia were all denied travel to Ghana for a week-long training on parliamentary procedures and operations. Jewel Taylor wanted to visit her former husband at the UN-backed Special Court since he was allowed family visits, but she was denied this.26 Thus, the Liberia case suggests strongly the utility of financial sanctions, possibly also the travel ban, when meticulously monitored, and when key individuals are clearly identified. The full evidence from the panel report is compelling. Thus, our fifth conclusion is that identifying traders may be a most promising avenue for strengthening sanctions regimes. The argument for this is somewhat different but relates to ability to derive the target of resources or to shifting the balance of power (the logics type 4 and 5). These individuals will not be able to influence the policies pursued by the government, but their services may be strategically crucial for the ability of the regime to continue war or maintain its policy or itself in power. They may also be few in numbers and often appear in several conflict situations. They are thus identifiable, but possibly difficult to bring to court. Sanctions may make their business more difficult. Victor Bout has been a frequently named in arms embargo violations, Bout was arrested in 2008 in Bangkok, and in August 2010 a criminal court in Thailand approved extradition of Bout to the US authorities for trial. He was convicted in

S/2005/360 §187–188 and < >. “Liberia: Gloomy Day for 4 Lawmakers,” All Africa/The Analyst, 3 January 2006; “AAGM: Taylor Appears in Court Monday,” The News (Nigeria), 3 April 2006; Interview with Jewel Howard Taylor by Mikael Ericsson, Monrovia, Liberia, personal communication, 8 June 2006.

25 26

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court in the United States on November 11, 2011.27 In the areas of nuclear non-proliferation A.Q. Khan has played a similar role, and for a time was kept in house arrest in Pakistan.28 Sanctions and criminal procedures may go hand in hand in such cases. The case of Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) also illustrates that the naming and shaming of being listed can make the individuals more vulnerable and put pressure on the governments to act according to the sanction. Two of the traders in the DRC, involved in weapon transfers, have reportedly been arrested and handed over by the Congolese government to the International Criminal Court for trial.29 This suggests that targeting also can go hand in hand with legal proceedings.

7.5

Political Compliance: The Evidence

The next step in our investigation was to understand the degree of compliance with the sanctions measure and with the political demands. This can be studied on two levels. One is to see if the individuals do change their views, as they are exposed to the sanctions. A second, and most significant, level is to see if target government policies are changed. We will here discuss both these aspects and determine if there is a connection between the two. We do this by discussing the eight cases, one by one. First we have to make an important cautionary note. We found public information on only one-quarter of all the listed individuals (112 out of 446), fairly evenly disturbed between the five categories of relations to national decision-making. UN reports and other information show a number of attempts to evade the travel ban, which is particularly easy to observe. There are seventy-three reports on evasion events (and eight on enforced compliance, i.e. when a person was actually prevented from traveling). Most of these reports pertain to individuals listed on the Angola sanctions. For asset freezes there are fewer evasion reports (thirty), but also more on compliance (fifteen), in this case largely referring to the Liberia sanctions. These two cases were also those with most persons listed, so this might be expected.30

27

D. Farah and S. Braun, Merchant of Death: Money, Gun, Planes, and the Man Who Makes War Possible. John Wiley & Son, Inc. 2007. “Thailand: Court Turns Over Russian Arms Dealer to US,” Thai News Service, 23 August 2010; “Russian Victor Bout Convicted over Colombian Arms Deal,” The Guardian, 11 November 2011. 28 On A.Q. Khan see transcript from Pakistani TV interview on August 31, 2009: https://www.fas. org/nuke/guide/pakistan/aqkhan-083109.pdf. 29 See https://www.icc-cpi.int/drc. 30 Angola: Press Release SC/7162 Security Council Committee on Sanctions Against UNITA Issues; Revised List of UNITA Officials and Adult Members of Their Immediate Families. Liberia: Revised UN Travel Ban List: The Perspective December 31, 2001; List of Individuals Subject to the Measures Imposed by Paragraph 4 of Security Council Resolution 1521 (2003). Concerning

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In the case of Angola no compliance on the individual level has been identified. However, the fact that UNITA signed the Memorandum of Understanding (also known as the Memorandum of Intent) on 4 April 2002, which led to the lifting of sanctions on 9 December the same year (SCR 1448), could in itself be seen as an act of compliance. It ended the civil war and was a first step in rebuilding the war-ravaged country. This took place after the leader, Jonas Savimbi, was killed on February 22, 2002 and his successor Mr. Antonio Demba died from his wounds in the same battle three days later. Both were on the sanctions list. This leadership change led to a ceasefire and a restart of the peace process that had been stalled for several years (www.ucdp.uu.se). By the end of the year, the war was over and UNITA was adhering to the peace agreements of the 1990s. Most analysts attribute the change to the death of Savimbi. One can speculate if the sanctions made the new leadership more willing to return to the peace process than it otherwise would have been. Negotiations about the nuclear programs in Iran and North Korea is another example of government change, following the imposition of UN sanctions. The outcome of these negotiations is likely to affect the listed individuals. However, in none of these cases have the negotiations progressed. In 2010 new sanctions were imposed on both these countries, for instance. In our data there were nineteen individuals where we could record a change of political behavior, sixteen relating to Liberia, two to Côte d’Ivoire and one to the DRC. As we have seen there were changes of policy taking place by the leadership in Liberia in 2003. We first look more carefully at Liberia. In the Liberia case some degree of financial hardship may have been experienced by the elite, most notably by Charles Taylor and people around him. This may have had an impact on his decision to resign in August 2003 (following type 1 logics, Table 7.1), something we could register as compliance with the political motives of the sanctions. However, as mentioned above, he may have been more affected by the inability to raise money for his forces. As we noted above Taylor was personally not under financial sanctions until March 2004 (USCR 1532). Other factors were at play at the same time: the arms embargo, the embargo on diamonds and timber, the fortunes of the war, and international pressure, may all have induced him to resign. Commodity sanctions on timber, diamonds and arms may have played more of a role than the individual sanctions. In public statements Jewel Taylor, stressed the unfairness of placing the whole family (including a three-year-old child) on the travel ban list. She compared (incorrectly) their situation to the wives and children of Saddam Hussein and Osama Bin Laden who were free to travel all over the world. She also mentioned that friends of Charles Taylor and his family deserted him because they were afraid of being included on the sanctions list.31 In 2006 when Charles Taylor had been taken

Liberia (last updated on 23 December 2011); https://www.un.org/securitycouncil/content/ repertoire/sanctions-and-other-committees. 31 “Reflections of a Smug Woman,” All Africa/The Analyst, 21 March 2005.

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to the tribunal for Sierra Leone, Jewel Taylor expressed her hopes that the Sanctions Committee would remove the sanctions from other Liberians to give them a chance to live a free life.32 In 2010 several women groups in Liberia demonstrated on her behalf in Monrovia calling on the leadership to fight for the removal of Mrs. Taylor from the United Nations travel ban. Shortly thereafter Vice President Joseph Boakai stated that he and President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf were not happy over the prolonged sanction against Liberians.33 A quite clear example of compliance is Daniel Chea, Minister of Defence in Taylor’s government, who handed in his weapons in June 2003. This data so far points to Liberia as a case of more successfully targeted sanctions. Other, and later sanctions have less of such a record. For instance, in the annual reports of the Security Council Committee, reports of the panel of experts, and press releases concerning the Security Council Committee for the studied cases there is no indication of change among any of the leaders in any of the other sanctions. In the case of Sudan, the influential persons listed were in stead promoted to more important positions, in clear defiance of the UN: Gaffar Mohamed Elhassan, Major-General and Commander of the Western Military Region for the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF). In Côte d’Ivoire the sanctions appear marginal compared to other international measures that cajoled the parties into negotiations, and in fact led them to make a deal among themselves rather than with the international community. The persons on the list, however, are said to have become more pacific. Their impact on the decisions may be limited, but possibly helping in the direction of negotiations. Sierra Leone belongs to the early wave of targeted sanctions. In this case the head of state and commander-in-chief Johnny-Paul Koroma was targeted. In the DRC most of the targeted persons in the leader category were commanders for different rebel movements. On the individual level the compliance rate is indeed low. In fact if the number of individuals that have changed their behavior is less than 20 out of the 112 for which we have information that suggests a ‘success rate’ below 20 percent. In relation to the total targeted number of actors (446), this is even more apparent, although we cannot know the situation for the total sample. This leads to a serious challenge on how the targeting is done. Obviously it can have an impact, but the targeting policies may not be optimal. Among the eight cases, we may venture to suggest that individual sanctions played some role in ending the conflict in Liberia. However, in many accounts on the ending of the war in 2003 the sanctions are seldom cited even as a contributing factor.34 In the case of Sierra Leone, there is an interesting statement to the

“AAGM: Taylor Appears in Court Monday,” The News (Nigeria), 3 April 2006. Frontline, June 23, 2010 ibid. 34 In her account of these events, Nilsson does not give emphasis to this, for instance, see Desirée Nilsson, Crafting a Secure Peace: Evaluating Liberia’s Comprehensive Peace Agreement 2003, Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research 2009. 32 33

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International Court on Sierra Leone on August 29, 2009, where Charles Taylor argued that he actually had complied with the sanctions of 2000 by trying to foster a peace agreement, thus implying a degree of effect.35 The sanctions may have made negotiations more likely in the cases of Iran and North Korea; so far, however, without lasting and credible agreements. Developments in Angola were largely a result of the death of two top personalities in the UNITA leadership. The case of the DRC illustrates some effectiveness of the sanctions tool. Four listed individuals have been arrested, two of them by the Congolese government and two of them outside the country. Laurent Nkunda was arrested in Rwanda in 2009 and replaced as the commander of National Congress for the People’s Defense in North Kivu. One administrator was promoted to leader despite being on the sanctions list only a month after being listed in 2008. He came under an arrest warrant by the International Criminal Court the same year for having committed war crimes.36 These actions may have helped to reduce warfare in the DRC. In the cases of Sudan and the Democratic Republic of the Congo there is little evidence of compliance with the individual sanctions and little evidence that the incumbent regimes or targeted actors have shifted their positions. The compliance ratio for individually targeted sanctions appears not to be higher than is the case for other types of sanctions. It has regularly been estimated to be between 20 and 34%.37 The central argument for targeted sanctions has been that they are ‘smarter’ in the sense that they bring the same result as more comprehensive sanctions but at lower cost. The success ratio suggests that this claim may be supported. However, these types of sanctions could be improved beyond the present ratios. Thus, we need to draw conclusions for the future of these sanctions.

7.6

A Future for Individual Sanctions?

In this study of the individually targeted sanctions, we found that the impact may be more limited than anticipated when the concept was first developed. However, the different types of logic behind the targeting may still be valid, if the right individuals are targeted. The initial arguments were to directly focus on the top leadership. This was also what was done in the first situations: Angola (in this case the leadership of UNITA), Liberia (Charles Taylor and all other high-level officials) and Sierra Leone (some of the leaders). In addition these sanctions also included measures against the traders, the individuals that could be instrumental in violating the sanctions. Taking a bird-eyes view, these are also the three conflicts that are no

35

See https://www.ijmonitor.org/charles-taylor-background/. See https://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/24/world/africa/24congo.html. 37 Peter Wallensteen, “Characteristics of Economic Sanctions”. Journal of Peace Research 1968. 5 (3): 248–267, also Chapter 6 in this volume; Kimberly Ann Elliott “Trends in economic sanctions policy: challenges to conventional wisdom”, in Wallensteen and Staibano ibid, pp. 3–14. 36

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longer among the most urgent world problems. The cases where the international community instead avoided confronting top leaders (Iran, North Korea, Côte d’Ivoire, an Sudan) are much further from a peaceful closure. Instead, these situations have become protracted. Particularly in the cases of Iran and North Korea, we found that the targeting is directed at administrators, not the policy-makers. There are strong reasons for why such individuals will not be able to affect the policies pursued. In fact, we suggest that the sanctions may make them more loyal to the regime. The pattern of individual targeting may say something about the international commitment to achieving change. When leaders are directly targeted, it suggests that the international community has resorted to effects covered by types 4–7 in Table 7.1. There is a determination to bring about drastic political change. In cases where the targeting is different, the expectation may instead be one of negotiations. The sanctions are operating as inducements, according to types 1–3 in Table 7.1. The type of targeting strategy used tells us something about international attention and international political will. The outcomes of these conflicts, of course, depend on a host of factors. The way regional actors react is important for the possibilities of implantation. If the targeted individuals can move within their own region with minimal impediment, that serves to undermine the sanctions. However, major banking centers are further away and still out of reach. Strong regional support may be the more important for effective arms embargoes, for instance.38 Thus, the sanctions on individuals are only part of the explanation. However, our analysis gave significant input into developing a more coherent UN targeting strategy. Sanctions should primarily target the top leaders. They are the ones that can affect changes and the different logics we have identified may affect them, even if they do not hold financial assets abroad or travel widely for pleasure (as may be the case for both Iranian and North Korean leaders). The individual sanctions, however, serve to annoy them and stigmatize them. If the demands for change from the international community are not too high it is more possible for them to shift policies, particularly if this can be seen to be part of a larger arrangement. In none of these two cases is the international community demanding a change of government, only a change of nuclear policy. The same argument applies to leaders in countries of civil war (here meaning Sudan, Côte d’Ivoire and the Democratic Republic of the Congo). These are situations where in fact international travel and foreign financial resources may be directly significant to the leadership. The cases that have been terminated belong to this group of cases. In addition, our study suggests that the traders are very important. They are necessary for sustaining a war effort and they may play the same role in the cases of 38

Damien Fruchart, Paul Holtom, Siemon T. Wezeman, Daniel Strandow, and Peter Wallensteen, United Nations Arms Embargoes: Their Impact on Arms Flows and Target Behavior (Solna: Stockholm International Peace Research Institute and Uppsala University, 2007), https://pcr.uu.se/ research/smartsanctions/.

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nuclear proliferation. There is a need for import of weapons in both cases (e.g. small arms, such as Kalashnikovs, in the civil wars and complex missiles in the nuclear proliferation cases). Such deliveries are likely to be banned and thus, experts in embargo evasion are valuable. Targeting such individuals make the deliveries even more difficult and less attractive. As they are operating on a market they may turn to other, less risky businesses, and in that way contribute to the sanctions. As can be seen from Table 7.3 so far only a few individuals in this category have been targeted. It may suggest that the traders, in fact, are not that many. It could also be that little effort has gone into identifying them. Either way, they will be significant in future sanctions regimes: if they are few they can be identified, sanctioned and possibly be brought to court. If they are presently unknown, it is important to identify them, their companies and their networks. Of course, the traders in themselves cannot change policy, but they provide the necessary resources for many leaders to maintain power. Furthermore they are calculating the profitability of different operations. Thus, they are likely to stay out of situations that are closely monitored and where the gains are in danger. They follow an economic logic that might not be so easily captured in the seven types we have identified. Their role as secondary actors may also require a different type of analysis. This we see as an important next step in sanctions research. With these suggestions we believe this study, which to the best of our knowledge is the first of its kind, can contribute to reforming the sanctions instrument even further – not only make sanctions smarter, but also more successful.

Chapter 8

Targeting Sanctions and Ending Armed Conflicts: First Steps Towards a New Research Agenda Peter Wallensteen and Mikael Eriksson

Abstract The sanctions debate has often focused on the ability of achieving compliance with the demands of the initiator, the sender. However, a large number of UN sanctions aim at ending wars and initiating peace processes, rather than achieving, for instance, regime change. The ability of the sanctions to foster a negotiated settlement requires a different approach, this chapter (from 2015) argues. Using data from the Targeted Sanctions Consortium the authors illustrate how sanctions can promote settlement during different phases of a conflict.

8.1

Sanctions and Ending Conflict

Targeted sanctions remain one of the instruments more widely used by the United Nations Security Council (UNSC) to address threats to international peace and security.1 The increased use of this policy instrument has been noted by a number of scholars.2 However, despite the growing body of sanctions research, surprisingly few studies have addressed what must be seen as the most crucial question, namely whether targeted UN sanctions do have an impact on armed conflicts, and in particular, whether their imposition enhances the chances of a peaceful settlement. ‘Impact’ is here understood as the potential influence sanctions may have on the dynamics of a conflict when they are being threatened, adopted or implemented. More specifically, we examine whether sanctions are related to change in conflict dynamics, as recorded by the Uppsala Conflict Data Program (UCDP). This means that we seek to analyze whether they are associated with changes in the intensity of

This is a republication of Mikael Eriksson and Peter Wallensteen 2015. “Targeting sanctions and ending armed conflicts: first steps towards a new research agenda”. International Affairs Vol. 91 (6): 1387–1398, with permission. 2 See e.g. David Cortright and George Lopez, The sanctions decade: assessing UN strategies in the 1990s (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2000); Andrea Charron, UN sanctions and conflict: responding to peace and security threats (Abingdon: Routledge, 2011); Mikael Eriksson, Targeting peace: understanding EU and UN targeted sanctions (Farnham: Ashgate, 2011). 1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_8

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the conflict, including efforts towards its resolution, as well as other types of behavior related to the conflict. While there is a commonly held assumption that UN targeted sanctions does have an impact on armed conflicts, few explorations of this question have been made using systematic and independently collected data on sanctions as well as on armed conflicts. Apart from the publications of the Targeted Sanctions Consortium (TSC),3 much scholarship on UN targeted sanctions has taken the form of context-specific case-studies. Scholars engaged in this type of enterprise run the risk of ignoring recent advances in research data on armed conflict. Most importantly, these data collection efforts have been undertaken for purposes other than sanctions research, thus creating an intellectual distance between data collection and possible hypotheses on sanctions. To put the point another way, analysis of sanctions has been guided by the policy setting itself (i.e. the demand by the imposer, the ‘sender’) rather than being conducted independently from the point of view of conflict dynamics. This is a challenge this article will try to overcome. Although several scholars in the field have been engaged in sanctions research as well as in conflict data collection, for the most part these two research fields have been kept separate from each other. In the remainder of this article we will suggest possible ways of bridging this gap. This will be done by taking stock of some key features pertaining to UN sanctions and their relation to conflict type, intensity and ending. We limit our analysis to the activities of the UNSC and do not consider the broader strategic policies of the Council's individual members. Thus, for the purposes of this analysis, we do not deal with the global or regional setting in which sanctions may be embedded. In essence, the aim is to lay out a research agenda that can reduce the distance between two fields that should be more closely engaged with one another. In the second part of the article we provide an overview of the literature, and in the third part we initiate a discussion on the connections between sanctions and armed conflicts, and present some of our observations.

8.2

A Note on Questions, Data, Definitions and Hypotheses

The questions we pose are whether UN targeted sanctions affect the dynamics of armed conflicts, and if they do, how. By ‘conflict dynamics’ we refer, essentially, to the development of conflict, with particular attention to reducing its intensity and providing momentum for resolution. By ‘armed conflict’ we refer to the phenomenon as defined by the UCDP, that is, generally denoting conflicts between a state and a non-state actor or between two or more states over territory or 3 Targeted Sanctions Consortium: Database codebook (2015, version 3); Thomas J. Biersteker, Sue E. Eckert and Marcos Tourinho, eds, Targeted sanctions: the impacts and effectiveness of UN action (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016).

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government.4 By ‘UN targeted sanctions’ we refer to those measures used by the UNSC to target individuals, groups, companies, regimes and products, for example by means of financial sanctions, travel bans, commodity trade restrictions and sectoral economic means. Using these definitions we are able to identify 30 sanctions regimes since the establishment of the UN in 1945, and 27 since the end of the Cold War in 1991.5 The number of armed conflicts is much greater: the UCDP lists 144 between 1989 and 2013.6 This disproportion of course affects the extent to which we can generalize from our analysis. Hence, rather than testing the role of UN targeted sanctions quantitatively, we build on qualitatively based observations from the rich empirical resource made available by recent data collections undertaken through TSC and UCDP research projects. Our main hypotheses are that sanctions have an impact (1) on the conduct of armed conflicts, by reducing intensity; (2) on the possibilities of peace, by making the parties more interested in negotiations; and (3) on postwar peacebuilding, by reducing the danger of war recurring. These hypotheses are mainly derived from recent observations in the sanctions literature.7 As further articulated below, this article is not yet able to provide conclusive answers on these points. Instead we see them as the beginning of a research undertaking on the connections between UN targeted sanctions and armed conflict at large.

8.3

The Contemporary Literature on UN Targeted Sanctions

Since the 1990s, the practice of the UNSC in terms of sanctions has gone through marked changes that have opened up avenues for research. First, it has moved from comprehensive to targeted sanctions (so-called ‘smart sanctions’).8 Second, the

4

See the UCDP website at , accessed 23 Sept. 2015. See the Special Program on the International Targeted Sanctions (SPITS) website at https://pcr. uu.se/research/smartsanctions/, accessed 23 Sept. 2015. 6 Lotta Themnér and Peter Wallensteen, ‘Armed conflicts, 1946–2012’, Journal of Peace Research 50: 4, 2013, pp. 509–21. 7 Mikael Eriksson, Supporting democracy in Africa: African Union's use of targeted sanctions to deal with unconstitutional changes of government (Stockholm: Swedish Defence Research Agency, 2010); Joakim Kreutz, ‘Human rights, geostrategy, and EU foreign policy, 1989–2008’, International Organization 69: 1, 2015, pp. 195–217; Peter Wallensteen, ‘Sanctions and peace research’, in Peace research: theory and practice (Abingdon: Routledge, 2011), pp. 175–82; Susan Hannah Allen and David J. Lektzian, ‘Economic coercion and currency crises in target countries’, Journal of Peace Research 50: 1, July 2015, p. 52; Clara Portela, ‘National implementation of United Nations Security Council sanctions: towards fragmentation’, International Journal (Canada) 65: 1, 2009–10, pp. 13–30. 8 Arne Tostensen and Beate Bull, ‘Are smart sanctions feasible?’, World Politics 54: 3, April 2002, pp. 373–403. 5

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scope of UN sanctions has increasingly expanded to target particular entities, including individuals,9 organizations and companies. This has opened up an entirely new research area in the sanctions field, in that previous scholarship looked mainly at the relations between the UN and governments.10 Third, there has been a new ambition to examine the impact of UN sanctions within individual cases, through the lens of sanctions episodes. Rather than assessing the impact of sanctions over an entire case that may include many decisions and longer periods of time, it is argued that an assessment is more fruitful if short periods and particular decisions—known as sanctions ‘episodes’—are examined. This constitutes a simple but significant methodological step forward.11 It has enlarged the number of observations from the 25 sanctions cases identified, for example, by the Special Program on International Targeted Sanctions (SPITS) for the period 1991–2013 to the 63 episodes registered by the TSC.12 Reflecting the past two decades of sanctions practice, the literature on sanctions has also taken many turns.13 Much of the theory of UN targeted sanctions developed alongside UN practice. For example, scholarly attention has been focused on mapping UN sanctions practice;14 challenges to effective implementation;15 and the assessment of different types of sanctions in practice.16 A common approach in the conventional strand of research is to examine the efficacy of sanctions (mainly by scoring their policy performance in relation to the sender's objective). An increasing number of studies of UN targeted sanctions have also been examined by academics in the legal field, as puzzles related to clear and fair procedures have become central in UN targeted sanctions implementation.17 This scholarly development in turn was a result of the sharp increase in the number of entities placed on the UN terrorism

Peter Wallensteen and Helena Grusell, ‘Targeting the right targets? The UN use of individual sanctions’, Global Governance 18: 2, 2012, pp. 207–30. Chapter 7 in this volume. 10 Johan Galtung, ‘On the effects of international economic sanctions with examples from the case of Rhodesia’, World Politics 19: 3, 1967, pp. 378–416. 11 One of the present authors could claim a pioneering role in this development: see Eriksson, Targeting peace, fn. 1, p. 43. 12 There was a new case in 2014, that of Yemen. SPITS also includes the cases of Iraq since 1990 and Cambodia 1992–4, as well as Southern Rhodesia and South Africa, to cover the full range of UN sanctions. If these five cases were included the total number of UN sanctions episodes would now be over 70. 13 Peter Wallensteen, ‘A century of economic sanctions: a field revisited’, in Peace research, pp. 183–205. 14 David Cortright and George A. Lopez, eds, Smart sanctions: targeting economic statecraft (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2002). 15 Peter Wallensteen and Carina Staibano, eds, International sanctions: between words and wars in the global system (Abingdon: Frank Cass, 2005). 16 David Cortright, George A. Lopez and Linda Gerber, Sanctions and the search for security: challenges to UN action (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2002). 17 See e.g. Larissa J. van den Herik, ‘Peripheral hegemony in the quest to ensure Security Council accountability for its individualized UN sanctions regimes’, Journal of Conflict and Security Law 19: 3, 2014, pp. 427–49. 9

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list following the attacks of 11 September 2001 and the expansion of listing practices.18 The literature on compliance, however, demonstrates that there has not been a dramatic rise in the efficacy of sanctions. On the contrary, there have been illustrations of negative side-effects and unintended consequences.19 Sanctions remain a blunt instrument; but targeted sanctions have, in all likelihood, reduced the costs to both the sender and the targeted country, compared to the earlier, comprehensive type of sanctions.20 For instance, they do not involve the paralysis of an entire economy, and thus avoid the humanitarian consequences that were reported in the 1990s as ensuing from the comprehensive sanctions on Iraq. In defense of sanctions, it should be recalled that they are tools applied short of the use of military force. In sum, then, contemporary sanctions research has mainly been concerned with the degree of compliance with UN demands. Most often, the research focus relates to the onset, pursuit and ending of armed conflicts. This leads to a significant question—whether sanctions are more effective for one or the other general purpose. Here, we are particularly interested in the impact on armed conflicts. Very few studies have analyzed UN sanctions measures in relation to armed conflict patterns. This lack of attention to general trends of armed conflict is not surprising if we look at the theoretical developments in the field of sanctions research, which take a quite different path by mostly focusing on the sanctions regimes themselves as units of analysis. Hence, it is fair to say that the impact of UN targeted sanctions on armed conflicts remains under-researched. This is the gap we wish to address here, using the data that are available from the UCDP.21 What, then, can we say about the research data on armed conflicts? During the 1990s the datasets on armed conflicts, especially those based on intensity of violence, recorded each conflict event as a case and also on a detailed, dyadic level (i.e. by dealing with the relations between different conflict parties within a single conflict location); this was the practice initiated by the UCDP.22 Rather than measuring various aspects of, for example, the entire ‘Somalia’ conflict or the ‘Iraq’ conflict as complete, encompassing events, several scholarly efforts

18

These practices and policies have substantial unintended consequences for listed entities on matters such as due process and the right to free and fair procedures. See Iain Cameron, ed., EU sanctions: law and policy issues concerning restrictive measures (Cambridge: Intersentia, 2013). 19 Mikael Eriksson, ‘The unintended consequences of UN targeted sanctions’, in Biersteker et al., eds, Targeted sanctions 20 Wallensteen and Grusell, ‘Targeting the right targets?’. 21 For the history of the UCDP, see Peter Wallensteen, ‘The Uppsala Conflict Data Program, 1978– 2010: the story, the rationale and the programme’, in Peace research, pp. 111–24. 22 The first journal article was Peter Wallensteen and Karin Axell, ‘Armed conflicts after the Cold War’, Journal of Peace Research 30: 3, 1993, pp. 331–46. Some years later followed a report on the project backdating conflicts to 1946: Nils Petter Gleditsch, Peter Wallensteen, Mikael Eriksson, Margareta Sollenberg and Håvard Strand, ‘Armed conflict, 1946–2001: a new dataset’, Journal of Peace Research 39: 5, 2002, pp. 615–37.

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were made to unpack more conventional data collection challenges by comparing different datasets and databases on patterns of armed conflict. For example, data were increasingly being collected and systematized by the UCDP on different incompatibilities, actors, strategies of violence, levels of violence, all on the basis of the acting, organized group. By shifting the unit of analysis from the state to the dyadic level and by enhancing the precision of the data, a more valid account of conflict dynamics has been developed during recent years. This in turn has opened up the possibility of reaching a much more nuanced understanding of what the micro-dynamics of a conflict look like (and now also how targeted sanctions fit into these dynamics). In sum then, we may say that both the field of research into UN targeted sanctions and the field of conflict data have now advanced to the point where, if combined, they could open up new ground for research on the role of the sanctions instrument.

8.4

Sanctions and Armed Conflict Since the End of the Cold War

The total number of armed conflicts between 1989 and 2013, according to the UCDP data, was 144.23 Over the period 1991–2013 examined by the TSC, 74 states experienced the onset of armed conflict, i.e. a number of conflicts had started prior to 1991. Over the same period, according to the TSC, the UNSC initiated 23 sanctions regimes.24 However, in only 14 of the conflicts in the UCDP database were UN sanctions applied: that is, the UNSC refrained from using sanctions in 60 armed conflicts during this period.25 An overwhelming majority of UN targeted sanctions in the period were imposed in Africa. A number of variables are coded in the TSC dataset, which constitutes the most important resource for our article. We have therefore focused on the 74 locations of armed conflict identified by the TSC to investigate the relationship between sanctions and the dynamics of armed conflict. The following preliminary observations are offered.

Lotta Themnér and Peter Wallensteen, ‘Armed conflict: 1946–2013’, Journal of Peace Research 51: 4, 2014, pp. 509–21. 24 On the basis of the TSC definitions there are 63 episodes. Here we concentrate on the first sanctions episode of each case in the dataset (EP 1). 25 One discrepancy is that the SPITS Sanctions List includes pre-1991 cases; another that it includes also non-Chapter VII sanctions (e.g. on Cambodia). From the SPITS Sanctions List website, we can observe that the UNSC has decided to impose UN targeted sanctions in 30 situations since its foundation, most of which have been in armed conflicts since 1989. 23

8.4 Sanctions and Armed Conflict Since the End of the Cold War

8.4.1

169

Armed Conflict and the Use of UN Targeted Sanctions

A first observation is that more than half of all UN sanctions regimes identified by the TSC related directly to armed conflicts. More precisely, there were 14 sanctions regimes that concerned an armed conflict recorded by the UCDP as initiated during the period. The remaining nine were, thus, not included in the analysis, although there were conflicts in progress in these cases also.26 This suggests that the UN use of sanctions is definitely geared towards armed conflict. However, we believe there is an element of selection here. First, if the permanent members of the UNSC and other major states do not want to bring a particular conflict onto the Security Council agenda, they can prevent it from doing so and thereby also from becoming the target of sanctions. This may be why the UNSC has not considered the application of sanctions in the cases of Moldova, Nagorno-Karabakh, Chechnya and Dagestan (owing to Russia's interest in these areas), northern India (which India defines as a domestic affair) or Myanmar (owing to Chinese opposition), etc. The distribution of power in the UNSC would make conflicts involving Western countries more likely to appear on the agenda (e.g. those in Iraq or Côte d'Ivoire). Furthermore, members of the UNSC may not want to challenge each other's special interests—in other words, there may be a tacit agreement on spheres of influence with potential negative implications for the contemporary world order. Owing to this ‘negative selection’, a number of local situations where sanctions might have been usefully applied, such as the repeated conflicts in Mali and Niger in the 1990s, never saw the use of this tool; these conflicts only got onto the UNSC agenda after 2010, by which time they had been recurring for a considerable number of years. This implies that the use of UN targeted sanctions is determined by Security Council politics more than by the evaluation of whether they would be the most appropriate tools. Sanctions may thus not be used in the cases for which they are most appropriate. There is another aspect to the use of UN targeted sanctions in situations of armed conflict which could be explained by UNSC dynamics. It seems that when an armed conflict is formally entered on the Security Council agenda, it may rapidly become a case for sanctions because the Council, as a crisis management body, is eager to demonstrate that it is doing something. In other words, once a conflict is on the agenda, the possibility of UN sanctions being imposed increases dramatically. Even when a permanent member may be reluctant, sanctions can be accepted as a ‘reasonable’ option. For example, there was repeated support in the UNSC for UN sanctions against Yugoslavia during the 1990s, even though the Western countries and Russia had been supporting different actors during the conflict. The decisions on sanctions in the cases of international terrorism in 2001 and of Libya in 2011 follow a similar pattern. 26

Some armed conflicts had started before 1989, for example those in Angola, Liberia and Somalia. We excluded these, as we wanted to follow the use of sanctions from the beginning of a conflict.

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UN Targeted Sanctions and Type of Armed Conflict

The UCDP divides the disputes underlying armed conflicts into two categories: those over control of government and those over control of territory. For the purposes of this article, we ask: in what types of armed conflict does the UNSC engage itself? According to the UCDP, a majority of all armed conflicts in the period after the Cold War concerned territorial issues, that is, attempts by non-state actors to break away from the existing state in some way (internal conflicts) or border issues (interstate conflicts). Yet UN targeted sanctions show a strikingly different pattern: 20 sanctions regimes concerned government issues and only three had to do with territorial concerns. This remarkable discrepancy demonstrates that the use of sanctions deviates significantly from what would be expected given the pattern of global conflict. It is reasonable to believe that an intergovernmental organization such as the UN is reluctant to engage itself in territorial self-determination issues except those relating to decolonization. UN targeted sanctions are often designed to weaken the government side in an armed conflict (e.g. the Taylor regime in Liberia or the Gaddafi regime in Libya), whereas in territorial conflicts sanctions are often intended to support (directly or indirectly) the rebel movements. It is notable that it is often the rebels who demand action from international bodies, whereas governments regularly prefer to define ‘separatism’ as an internal matter, unless the rebellion is visibly and concretely supported by an outside power.27 However, a number of other armed conflicts with a strong territorial content were not brought to the UN and/or did not result in UN sanctions (e.g. the Aceh conflict in Indonesia, the Basque conflict in Spain and the conflict between the Palestinians and Israel). This suggests another layer of concern for UNSC members: they do not normally like bringing domestic issues onto the agenda. States in general, and those at the helm of the international system in particular, are not happy about actions that threaten to break up states, and thus are reluctant to deal with separatist disputes in this formal way. The fear is that doing so might threaten to undermine a pillar of the present international system—the principle of the territorial integrity of the state. Sanctions were originally designed to deal with interstate conflicts, and are more likely to be used in such conflicts. The UNSC's reaction to the border conflict between Ethiopia and Eritrea is typical. Some other interstate conflicts that began in or after 1991 also saw the use of sanctions: a notable example is the 2003 war in Iraq, where sanctions had been applied previously, and where targeted sanctions were imposed on Saddam Hussein, his family and some of his supporters. On the other hand, only four interstate armed conflicts began in the period under study, and with so small a sample caution must be exercised in interpreting the data.

27

Thus, UN targeted sanctions were used in the conflicts in the former Yugoslavia during the 1990s (first over Croatia and Bosnia, then over Kosovo) as well as in the border conflict between Ethiopia and Eritrea.

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In contrast to the UN’s approach to territorial conflicts, sanctions on governments in office during the Cold War (Rhodesia and South Africa) dealt with government issues, and were designed to support non-state actors working for democratization. Conversely, a considerable number of the post-1991 sanctions captured by the TSC data actually aimed at supporting governments: examples are the cases of Haiti, where sanctions were imposed in support of the deposed leader, Rwanda (sanctions on the Hutu militia), the Democratic Republic of Congo (on the rebels), Afghanistan (on the Taliban) and Al-Qaeda. In, fact the imposition of targeted UN sanctions on incumbent leaders in armed conflict was rare. The case of Libya in 2011 stands out in that context. We believe it likely that the failure to agree on targeted sanctions against the Assad regime in Syria is typical in reflecting the exercise of considerable Great Power interests.

8.4.3

UN Targeted Sanctions and the Phases and Intensity of Armed Conflict

Sanctions have clearly been related to the initiation or support of peace negotiations. The TSC data demonstrate that the priority objective most frequently identified is to support actions that reduce violence and promote peace processes.28 We can safely say that this has been the objective of more than half of all sanctions introduced in this period, followed by counterterrorism as the second most frequent objective.29 This suggests an instrumental use of sanctions: they attempt to target those who object to peace processes or sabotage them in various ways, thus hoping to shift power to those in favor of negotiations. This observation is further supported by the fact that parties to conflicts are more frequently urged by the sanctions senders to exercise restraint. This is quite clear when sanctions regimes that are related to armed conflict are compared with those that concern terrorism and nuclear weapons proliferation, where sanctions appear more coercive.30 Thus, when an armed conflict is brought to the UNSC it is more likely that pressure will be exerted on the parties to find ways to negotiate. Taking the conflict to the UN means also accepting that there will be a measure of mediation and cajoling in the direction of an agreement. Sanctions are used accordingly. It may be, as suggested above, that the Council itself disagrees on what is the best policy, and thus a combination of sanctions and negotiations is seen as the best available option. In contrast, where sanctions are not related to conflict, it is more likely that the UN is dealing with a situation where there is strong consensus within the

28

Variable 22, n = 63 of the TSC database. TSC data find the peace processes category to be the primary objective for 37 of the episodes, compared to the nine aimed at counterterrorism. 30 TSC variable 51, n = 23. 29

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Council and that the party will be put under considerable pressure to comply with statements from the Council. Certainly, this is typical for cases of non-proliferation and counterterrorism. In both these fields, the Council regularly takes a less compromising and more demanding position. Sanctions are then used accordingly. One way of thinking about the phases of armed conflicts is to consider their intensity at the time decisions are made about sanctions. Does the UNSC show a propensity to impose targeted sanctions in situations that are more or less intense?31 On the basis of the data (13 cases of armed conflict),32 three observations are worth making. First, a majority of all UN targeted sanctions regimes dealing with armed conflict were imposed in conflict situations where the UCDP recorded intense violence, that is, a state of war.33 Only in two situations, in Haiti and Côte d'Ivoire, did the UN impose targeted sanctions when the fighting was at a low-intensity level. A possible reason for this may have been that both situations had at the time already received considerable political attention from the UN (and key permanent members of the Security Council). Sanctions were thus one more instrument added to the policy measures already instituted by the UN at the time. Second, at least six sanctions regimes were imposed in situations of high-intensity war where the violence stopped during the same year or the year after the imposition of sanctions—these sanctions regimes were Libya 1, 2; Iraq; Former Republic of Yugoslavia 1; Kosovo; Ethiopia—Eritrea.34 This may suggest that sanctions have some influence on the termination of armed conflicts. The mechanism, however, is open to debate, as four of these cases attracted considerable attention from the Great Powers (including occasional use of force, for instance coalition partners engaged in air bombing campaigns). This suggests that sanctions alone cannot be credited with ending wars. Third, in two situations, Sudan 2 and the DRC, sanctions were imposed in an environment of high-intensity violence, and after sanctions were imposed violence decreased considerably. On the other hand, the imposition of sanctions against the Taliban, Sierra Leone and Rwanda did not show any significant impact on the battle dynamic; on the contrary, in these cases, although violence may have decreased slightly, it increased again over the subsequent years. The findings above suggest that further research is needed to arrive at a better understanding of how UN targeted sanctions are working in conjunction with the dynamics of intense conflict situations.

31

Intensity here is measured as the number of deaths as a result of the armed conflict. We base our observations on 13 cases since we do not count sanctions on Al-Qaeda as relating to a conventional conflict, even though they are included by both the UCDP and the TSC. Were we to include this case the total number would be 14. 33 A situation is considered to be one of war when there are at least 1,000 battle-related deaths per year. 34 The numbers refer to different episodes of the sanctions regime. 32

8.4 Sanctions and Armed Conflict Since the End of the Cold War

8.4.4

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UN Targeted Sanctions, Armed Conflicts and Conflict Resolution

The new TSC data show that a sizeable proportion of all UN sanctions has been used to support peace processes. However, there are also a number of other situations where sanctions are imposed to change particular goals. These are best illustrated with actual cases. For instance, the first sanctions on Libya from 1992, in connection with Libya's involvement in terrorist activity (e.g. the Lockerbie case), did achieve changes in Libya's behavior. By 1999 the UNSC had determined that Libya had fulfilled the UN demands. Two agents accused of planting the bomb in the aircraft in the Lockerbie case were handed over to a court in the Netherlands and Libya paid compensation to the families of the victims. Libya having thus complied with the demands, and reduced its involvement in conflicts affecting the United Kingdom and France, normal trade and diplomatic relations were restored. This ended the dispute over the responsibility for the bombings. From the early 2000s, Libya was no longer seen as a sponsor of terrorism. In this case, sanctions contributed to changing behavior, suggesting that sanctions can help to reduce state-sponsored terrorism. However, another situation, more typical as a case of armed conflict, is the second round of sanctions on Libya instituted in 2011. In connection with the uprising that began in Libya in February that year, new sanctions were imposed for the purpose of protecting the country's citizens from violence at the hands of the governing regime. Again, some discernible impact on behavior can be observed. The freezing of assets belonging to the Gaddafi family may have had an impact on the civil war that followed. Possibly it made it difficult for the regime to finance loyal forces. Thus the sanctions came to be biased against the regime, and reduced its chances of defending itself. This is a special type of impact and it differs from the previous Libyan sanctions experience. Although this was not explicitly stated as an objective, sanctions contributed to regime change, not just the ending of a civil war. Another case indicates how sanctions can become interwoven with the conduct of war. An arms embargo was instituted against all the states of the former Yugoslavia in 1991, and specific sanctions were imposed on the successor state, the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (Serbia and Montenegro), in 1992. These measures were removed in 1996 following the implementation of the Dayton peace accords. In this case, it is likely that the sanctions played an instrumental role, in the end making some parties more eager to conclude agreements and establish some degree of ‘normal’ conditions for their international relations. The sanctions, in other words, helped to terminate an armed conflict, but were not directly promoting regime change. Sanctions can also be applied in an even-handed way and thus be supportive of peace efforts. An example is the case of Eritrea and Ethiopia, where sanctions were imposed to prevent a return to fighting and to support the search for a negotiated peace. The peace agreement was signed in 2000 and the sanctions expired in 2001. The arms embargo may have affected these two poor nations at war with each other

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in a similar way. Both were dependent on arms deliveries to pursue their actions. Ending the fighting by a reasonable agreement became a rational choice. The resumption of arms transfers after the war may have worked as an incentive for not implementing the withdrawal and the demarcation of the border, suggesting an argument in favor of keeping the arms embargo in place for longer. The sanctions on Liberia and Sierra Leone have largely been terminated, but were kept in place long after the war had ended, as a way of keeping up pressure on the governments to make the changes required. In the postwar situation the UN sanctions were used for a novel purpose: the promotion of peacebuilding and the prevention of a recurrence of war. However, by 2014 any continuing impact was difficult to identify, as the Ebola crisis changed government priorities. Other cases remain to be considered (Iraq 1 and 2, Rwanda, Somalia, Sudan 1 and 2, as well as the DRC and Côte d'Ivoire). One more deserves mention here: that of the 2005 sanctions on Lebanon. This regime was aimed at supporting the investigation into the assassination of former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri, and thus was not directly related to an ongoing armed conflict (but potentially helped to prevent a new one).

8.4.5

Sanctions and Unresolved Conflicts

In addition to the case of Libya, we should also note other cases of sanctions that have not been terminated. In October 1999, sanctions were introduced against Afghanistan, directed against the internationally unrecognized Taliban regime. This was done because of the Taliban's unwillingness to take action against terrorism, and in particular because it had not handed over al-Qaeda leader Osama bin Laden to ‘appropriate authorities in a country where he will be arrested and effectively brought to justice’.35 Following the attacks on the United States of 11 September 2001, there was increased support for stronger measures.36 After the war that deposed the Taliban regime, the sanctions remained in place, targeting specific individuals, wherever they were on the globe. These sanctions became part of the global struggle against terrorism, and additions to the lists of individuals or organizations covered became a major undertaking for these sanctions regimes.

35

UN Security Council Resolution 1267 of 1999. UN Security Council Resolution 1368 of 2001.

36

8.5 Conclusion

8.5

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Conclusion

In this article we have identified a number of factors that could further improve our understanding of UN targeted sanctions. By building on the newly released data of the TSC as well as systematic data on patterns of armed conflict, we have illustrated how sanctions may play out in contemporary world affairs. The preliminary results suggest that sanctions may remain a valuable tool of conflict management, but that their record in conflict resolution requires further study. There are several instances of armed conflict where the UN has decided not to impose sanctions even though it has done so in similar cases. A potential explanation for this may be that the Council's decision-making is not consistent and perhaps not optimal. It may also be influenced by an assessment of how likely sanctions are to be effective. We may also note the tendency of the UNSC to engage in armed conflicts over government issues as opposed to those based on territorial concerns. This may be a selective bias in favor of governments and the territorial integrity of the state, but it may also reflect an unequal distribution of power in the organization, which is notably weighted in favor of the permanent members of the UNSC and other major powers in the UN system. Both these observations require more in-depth examination. The sample used in this article is by necessity limited, and other factors may also be at work. Overall, we conclude that sanctions have a connection to conflict resolution. Most sanctions imposed in situations of armed conflict are designed to support peace processes and peacebuilding. There are some successes, but also failures. Sanctions need to be further understood as a tool embedded in a larger strategic setting. It would be possible to develop a research agenda to study the peace-promoting aspect of the use of sanctions, as distinct from the study of compliance. This agenda would include matters of conflict prevention (e.g. sanctions as threats) and peacebuilding (e.g. the lifting of sanctions as an incentive for peace-supporting actions), and also how sanctions relate to different types of outcomes (e.g. victory for one side vs. mutual peace agreements). This research can be pursued for the totality of sanctions, and also for different types and combinations of sanctions. Even though the number of cases is small, by referring to data on conflicts where sanctions are not used it will be possible to appreciate more clearly what (if anything) the sanctions contribute. This will be the next step in our investigations. So far, our findings suggest that further research is needed to expand the focus beyond the narrow bounds of the demands laid out by the official resolutions.

C

Developing Mediation

From the seminar on Quality of Mediation, Kroc Institute, November 2018. From left: Laurie Nathan, Miriam Coronel-Ferrer, me and John Paul Lederach. From the author’s personal photo collection

Chapter 9

Going Ahead: Lessons for Mediation Theory and Practice Peter Wallensteen and Isak Svensson

Abstract This chapter from 2010 reproduces the conclusions from a study of one mediator, the Swedish diplomat Jan Eliasson, and his involvement in six different mediation situations, during a thirty-year period. The authors emphasize the mediator’s style (scope, method, mode and focus) and relate it to the outcome of the efforts. Based on this, the chapter suggests ten implications for mediation research and mediation practice.

9.1

Introduction

Mediation is formed by the initial mandate.1 This has been overlooked in previous research. In this work we have demonstrated that it affects the styles of international mediators dealing with managing and resolving armed conflicts and humanitarian crises. Through the mediation experiences of Ambassador Jan Eliasson we have seen how the mandates direct the way a third party comes into a conflict, proceeds in his work, involves the international community and finishes his assignment. In particular we show how four basic styles in mediation – scope, method, mode and focus – describe the challenges and opportunities in mediating international conflicts. This constitutes a basis for formulating lessons for policy and research as well as for future inspiration and guidance. Thus, we highlight three main areas of how mediation can move forward. These concern the mandates, resources and outcomes of mediation. Furthermore, we show how the styles play out in the different components of Eliasson’s mediation. This provides a tentative theoretical framework for future research of other mediators.

This is a slightly edited version (done by PW) of Chapter 8 “Going Ahead: Lessons for Mediation Theory and Practice” co-written by Isak Svensson and Peter Wallensteen 2010, The Go-Between. Jan Eliasson and the Styles of Mediation, Washington, D.C.: USIP Press, pp. 105–135. Reproduced with permission. The book and the present text build on six of Ambassador Jan Eliasson’s experiences of mediation, notably two cases in the Iran-Iraq War 1980–88 (one with Olof Palme), between Burma/Myanmar-Bangladesh 1992, Sudan’s humanitarian crisis 1992, the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict 1994 and situation in Darfur (Sudan) in 2007–08 (with Salim Salim). 1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_9

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We also suggest that mediation has to be seen as a sequential selection process with different types of mediator playing different roles. This means, for instance, that the United Nations often is left to take care of neglected conflicts situations or those where others have tried but failed. Paradoxically, states that want to mediate may be more restrictive than interstate organizations when choosing conflict in which to be involved. The cases of armed conflict that reach the UN agenda are not a random selection. Rather, there is a notion in previous research that “the United Nations is saddled with the most intractable disputes.”2 In all in our present study, mediation has stemmed from mandates, requests and offers involving international organizations, not from individual states. Indeed, all the political conflicts Eliasson has dealt with can be defined as “difficult”. Thus, they provide a set of exceptional situations from which lessons can be learned of relevance for all kinds of cases, whether “difficult” or “easy”.

9.2

Mediation Mandate

In our analysis of Eliasson’s mediation efforts it became clear that the mandate is of crucial importance for what a mediator can do. It determines what strategies and tools a mediator may use. It sets the outer parameters of mediation, but still leaves some leeway for the mediator. We have separated two elements of the mandate: its origin and the operational aspects. All of Eliasson’s mediation efforts were based on a multilateral mandate (UN, AU or OSCE), although the requests for the humanitarian mediation efforts came from the realities in the field, the parties or the local context, rather than from the international scene. The multilateral mandate gave the mediation access to professional and communication resources, legitimacy and informational clout. Moreover, it created opportunities for cooperation and a division of labor between different actors. A multilateral mandate turns into a resource, as the efforts are part of what the international community wants to achieve in a particular conflict. Yet, a multilateral mandate works as a restriction as well. Eliasson had no coercive power to be used to pressure the parties. Nor had he access to promises of resources to coax the parties toward peace. The multilateral setting also strained the efforts. The bureaucratic apparatus of the multilateral organizations may weaken the ability to be effective as peacemaker. It may also limit the go-between in the choice

This citation comes from Saadia Touval, ”Why the U.N. fails”, Foreign Affairs, 73, no 5 (September/October 1994), 51. Other scholars discuss the proposition that the United Nations gets to manage the tougher cases. See Daniel Frei ”Conditions affecting the effectiveness of International Mediation” 26, 1976 and Jacob Berecovitch and Richard Jackson, International Conflict A Chronological Encyclopedia of Conflicts and Their Management, 1945–1995, Christchurch, New Zealand: Congressional Quarterly Inc. 1997).

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of tactics and strategies, as there is a constant need to anchor the third-party efforts with significant countries from the mandating organization. In the six cases we have studied, the mandate was formulated by multilateral bodies. The parties had a role in its formulation, but the mediator often did not have a corresponding impact. This is different from the cases of other mediators. For instance, Norwegian mediator Jan Egeland states that the Oslo peace process was initiated on a direct intervention from the parties themselves. Representatives of the PLO approached Norway requesting them to set up an informal channel of communication with the Israeli government.3 Another Norwegian mediator, Ambassador Mona Juul, states that the parties were “looking for alternatives” to the multilateral framework – the Madrid conference, co-chaired by the United States and the Soviet Union and with representation from most of the Middle East – that dominated the scene at the time: “we were in the position to offer a radically different approach.” 4 There are advantages of getting the mandate from the parties directly. There was confidence in the process from the outset and trust in the mediators. The difference in the way mandates are arrived at also sets parameters for mediation style. A different approach to the mandate is reflected in the position of the OSCE high commissioner on national minorities. The first holder of the post, Dutch diplomat Max van der Stoel, held it for eight years from 1993 to 2001. According to the mandate, the commissioner could enter any country or region, without an invitation or even consent by the state of by the OSCE. Such an overall institutional mandate provides freedom for independent initiatives. This definitely – as described by van der Stoel – was one of the “innovative elements” in the mandate.5 Generally speaking, however, the operational mandates of the mediator are also intimately related to the conflict phases. Eliasson’s six cases give many example of this. For instance, we can see that in cases which cover an early crisis phase, the operational mandate has been limited to humanitarian issues. This is partly a result of the coordinating role of the UN Secretariat (the cases of the Rohingya refugees, Southern Sudan). This conflict phase represents particular challenges for the mediator. The humanitarian imperative requires swift action with quick results. Yet, it is also important not to risk escalating the situation. After rapid interventions, Eliasson could hand over the process to other actors. In a later crisis phase in already armed political conflict, the dynamics of the mediation efforts have been markedly different. Here the operational mandates have been to halt the fighting and provide space for a political settlement (Nagorno-Karabakh). The battle dynamics helped create a sense of urgency that Jan Egeland, “The Oslo Accord: Multiparty Facilitation through the Norwegian Channel” in Herding Cats. Multiparty Mediation in a Complex World, ed. Chester Crocker, Fen Osler Hampson and Pamela Aal (Washington DC: United States Institute of Peace Press, 1999), p 532. 4 Mona Juul “Israel or Palestine? Experiences in mediation and mediators in the Middle East” Development Dialogue, no 52 (November 2009), 34–35. 5 Max van der Stoel, “The Role of the OSCE High Commissioner in Conflict Prevention” in Herding Cat, op.cit., 68. 3

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made the parties willing to agree to a cease-fire. Yet, the challenge for Eliasson and for the mediation efforts was to try to expand the mandate to include political aspects in order to prevent agreements from resulting in an unresolved status – a frozen conflict. This turned out to be difficult. The Eliasson-Salim mandate, in a very late, entrenched conflict phase (the case of Darfur) concerned finding ways to re-invigorate a virtually stalemated process. There was an opportunity to generate new momentum and energy with new strategies and new personal resources. Yet, the challenge for the two mediators turned out to be the need for unifying the divided opposition groups before there could be substantive talks on concrete solutions. In the one case with a postwar implementation mandate, Eliasson faced a conflict that had formally ended but lacked substantial agreements on the incompatible positions (Iran-Iraq II). Eliasson’s challenge was to find common ground between parties with extreme levels of hostility and mistrust, and maintain the momentum of the political process so that the parties would not return to the battlefield. With this in mind, we point to the need for researchers to study mandates, mediation objectives and conflict phases for a more realistic understanding of the challenges and opportunities of the mediators. There is variation between mediators representing states and those coming from international organizations. But this distinction is not sufficient. What mediators will do will also depend on what they are requested to do by the mandating organization and by the conflicting parties. This study is also meant to inform the thinking on how mediation mandates ought to be drafted. First and foremost, there is a difference between humanitarian and political mediation. Whereas humanitarian mediation can be short-term, immediate and launched with limited resources and without regard to the phase of the crisis (although earlier phases would obviously be preferable) the same is not true for political mediation. Political mediation requires a more long-term commitment, more institutional support, and a coherent framework for cooperation within the international system. Moreover, the optimal mandate must avoid crucial and damaging discrepancies. One of these is between mediation mandates and resources. Mandating a political mediation effort should be followed with substantial institutional backing that enables teams of experts and/or mediators, provide for links to research-based knowledge and include expertise on media relations. In most of Eliasson’s mediation efforts (with Darfur being the exception), the institutional support the interventions receive was remarkably limited, consisting of only a few individuals. This may be sufficient in humanitarian mediation efforts where the aspirations are narrow and precise. Yet, it is more problematic in political mediation efforts, which often concern more entrenched and difficult problems. An imbalance can also occur between mediation mandates and expected outcomes. One may ask if the mediation commissioning bodies or parties have given sufficient thought to the preferred outcomes already at the outset, or whether any outcome will be acceptable. For instance, in his work on Kosovo’s status Martti Ahtisaari followed guidelines that he interpreted to mean that Kosovo could not be

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reunited with Serbia.6 In other words, he followed the predetermined, preferred vision of the United Nations and its secretary-general, which was in effect incorporated in his mandate. Finally, there could be a discrepancy between mediation mandates and conflict phases. For instance, a mandate for negotiations when the parties are internally divided (as in Darfur and Iran-Iraq I) may be inadequate to achieve progress toward peace. The mandating organization needs to take parallel action to ensure that the peace process can deal with the problem of who should be at the negotiating table, to consider the inclusion of civil society, and to assist in creating room in the mandate for mediation within some of the conflict parties.

9.3

Mediation Outcome

An obvious lesson from the six experiences we have scrutinized is that mediation does not always result in complete and durable peace agreements between the parties. It may not even be the purpose. This is a distinctive feature not only of Eliasson’s work but also of most mediators. Although there have been about 175 peace agreements in the last twenty years, the number of mediators and mediation efforts is probably much higher. It is – no doubt – particularly rewarding to a mediator if a peace deal is solemnly signed in ceremonial circumstances. However, this is not necessarily as common as thought or not even what the mediation is all about. In the six mediation efforts by Eliasson, the idea was often to find ways of easing or keeping communication between the primary parties, reducing the human suffering from the conflict, stopping the fighting for shorter or longer periods, preventing a resumption or spread of conflict, as well as finding elements for a final peace agreement. The different measures of success may provide the first and most important lesson: It is not the mediator who stops the war, it is the parties. The parties, by accepting the mediator, indicate a willingness to find ways out of a particular conflict. However, whether such a route will be selected depends not only on the ability of the mediator. The mediator cannot force the parties to end a conflict when one or the other does not want to end it. In our conversations, Eliasson constantly refers to the difficulty of getting horses to drink the water, once they are at the waterhole. The six experiences all testify to the fact that the horses will drink when they are thirsty, not before. Wars end only when the warring parties are willing to end them. However, we see that the go-between may be able to assist in increasing the awareness of the need to end a war. The go-between keeps reminding the parties of the expectations of changing their present behavior. The go-between also points to

Martti Ahtisaari, “What Makes for Successful Conflict Resolution?” Development Dialogue, No 53 (November 2009): 42.

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the bargaining range in which the parties find themselves. In the absence of direct communication between the parties, the mediator may be the one who is most informed on what options the other side has and thus what is potentially feasible and acceptable. Such information can be useful for primary parties when assessing their own preferred way of acting. We surmise that this is an important function in mediation, as often mentioned in the general literature. Providing informed opinions may add new data to the fighting sides and may also, as we believe happened in the Iran-Iraq II case, result in direct contacts between the primary parties outside the mediation framework. Thus, it may be that a mediator can contribute to ending a war earlier than it would otherwise have ended. Of course, this is a hypothesis that is close to impossible to prove, at least with only six cases. For the primary parties, as well as for their supporters and opponents, the puzzle may be different than the one pursued by the third party. Indeed, the mediator is seldom the final decision-maker for any of the parties. Only when negotiations directly involve a state leader is that the case. Eliasson has often had access directly to the leaders of the countries concerned, but most of his time has been spent with foreign ministers or high-level representatives of the parties. The leaders often prefer not to make personal commitments until late in the process. That provides for uncertainty in all mediation efforts. Let us again point to the important distinction between humanitarian and political mediation. The two humanitarian efforts have involved quicker results, with governments agreeing to changes that facilitated solutions to humanitarian crises. At the time, the early 1990s, such crises seemed less politicized and were dealt with on the basis of a global consensus on the need to protect civilians.7 The political cases did not find easy ways out. In some of these cases, the mediator pointed to humanitarian effects of the war, and some headway was made, notably an end to military attacks on cities and civilians in the Iran-Iraq I case. It may have helped to reduce the human suffering at the moment. However, such a humanitarian consensus may be more difficult today, not least in one of the situations: In retaliation for his ICC indictment, Sudan’s President Bashir decided in March 2009 to close down some international humanitarian efforts in Darfur, accusing international organizations of spying. This reduces the scope of appealing to the need for international assistance as a way of reaching into a particular conflict.

7

Note however that some purely humanitarian mandates of actors within multilateral organizations, such as the role of Sergio Vieira de Mello at the UNHCR in the Cambodian mission after the Paris Agreement in the early 1990s, were indeed used for political objectives. Vieira de Mello, as head of the challenging task of managing the return of hundreds of thousand of Cambodian refugees, was one of the few UN staff in Cambodia that would start talking with representatives of the Khmer Rouge about humanitarian issues to solidify the fragile political process in post-conflict Cambodia, and in this way “use humanitarian successes to pursue political ends.” See Samantha Power, Chasing the Flame, Sergio Vieria De Mello and the Fight to Save the World, London: Penguin 2008:124.

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An important difference between humanitarian and political mediation is also the possibility of handing over implementation to other agencies. In the two humanitarian cases, Eliasson was making the necessary agreements on a high political level. It was then left to humanitarian agencies to implement the deal, notably UNHCR in the Rohingya situation and UNICEF in Southern Sudan in the context of Operation Lifeline Sudan. This also made clear the practical and technical nature of the agreements. Seemingly neutral agencies took over the issues. In the political cases, this is probably more difficult. After all, the war has to be stopped by the parties themselves. It is difficult for third parties to monitor what then takes place. However, organizations were set up for this, and we have seen this – for example, with the cease-fire monitoring teams (as in the case of Iran-Iraq) and plans for a peacekeeping force (as was tried for Nagorno-Karabakh). Some issues could be handled by other agencies, notably the prisoner-of-war exchanges through the regular procedures of the International Committee of the Red Cross. In the Iran-Iraq War the Secretary-General developed an unusual and innovative way to solve the question of the responsibility for the war. Humanitarian issues may be “easier” to handle in a less politicized way, but even highly sensitive issues may also find administrative, “neutral” solutions. These practical examples point to an important insight long overdue in the scholarly tradition. Researchers interested in understanding mediation and measuring outcomes and successes may need to broaden their horizon. It may not be enough with the currently narrow focus on peace treaties or cease-fire agreements. It may be necessary to incorporate more nuanced understandings of the operational objectives of international mediators and, particularly, those of the parties to the conflict. Finding ways to measure the success of ongoing mediation efforts might not be an easy task, but it appears nevertheless to be an inevitable next step for building more policy-relevant mediation research. It is even more urgent for fully professionalizing the process of mediation. A culture and practice of professional mediation requires accumulated knowledge and well-developed resources internationally, nationally and locally. It also requires more realistic, expectations for what a mediator can achieve.

9.4

Mediation Resources

A major lesson on resources from Eliasson’s experiences is that multilateral mandates, their limitations notwithstanding, provide a fruitful basis for international involvement and support. In fact, there is a need to have the international community cooperating – “going together” – for mediation to be successful, particularly in political cases. An international body expresses its commitment to a peaceful outcome by appointing a third party. By continuously informing the key actors, a mediator is able to exert pressure on the primary parties themselves. Eliasson clearly devoted much time to solicit the views of leading actors, notably the major powers, regional states and the parties themselves. This is a strategy for many

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mediators, of course, but particularly significant for the multilateral ones, which are accountable to the organization they represent. In an ideal world these leading actors would all rally behind the Special Envoy and supply him/her with all necessary assistance. In practice this does not seem to be the case. The permanent members of the Security Council, for instance, may have their own objectives and pursue their own policy vis-à-vis the primary actors. Such activities, seen by major powers to be in their interest, also make clear to the primary parties that the mediation effort is not the game in town – there are several others at the same time. Based on the six cases we surmise that the stronger and the more credible international support is for the mediation efforts, the more likely it will accomplish the set goals. The combined resources of the international community should indeed overpower what resistance any primary party could muster. Another lesson pertains to the crucial role of sufficient resources on the micro-level of mediation for entering, sustaining and concluding mediation efforts, in other words, the skills and size of the mediation team. A striking feature of the Eliasson cases is the limited size of the efforts. In all cases the mediation team consists only of a handful of persons. Eliasson entered international mediation in 1980 as a personal advisor to Special Representative Olof Palme. The UN Secretary-General also sets aside time for some of his associates (for instance, Diego Cordovez and Iqbal Riza). Although being a high-caliber team, all involved have other assignments at the same time. The exception is the Darfur case, with a large office operating from Khartoum, which at moments in time has involved at least twenty persons. We see this as an encouraging sign of giving more emphasis to mediation in difficult cases. There may be circumstances unique to the Darfur case for this emphasis, however. This includes not only the guilt feelings of the outside world, but also the worries over the fate of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement in Sudan. Furthermore there were many complications in getting this office to work smoothly as it faced both the Sudanese authorities, and the AU and UN bureaucracies. By and large, international mediation efforts are provided with minimal financial resources from the sponsoring international organizations. This seems to be the accepted practice for international mediation and not seriously questioned by our interviewees. As a result efforts sponsored by the international community may be at a disadvantage compared to other mediation attempts. Henry Kissinger and Richard Holbrooke could draw on the US State Department, Jimmy Carter and Bill Clinton on the entire US federal government, and the third-party mediators in the Oslo channel benefitted from the diplomatic networks of the Norwegian foreign service. Only in 2006 did the United Nations set up a Mediation Support Unit, and only in 2008 was a team of external mediation experts recruited. This makes it inevitable for the go-betweens to rely on the resources of their home government. The efforts then run the risk of becoming “national” under an international heading. This is an argument for strengthening the international resources for mediation. A possible solution to the chronically limited resources of international mediation teams could be to incorporate academic resources into the process. Eliasson improved his position by doing so, notably in the Nagorno-Karabakh and Darfur

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cases. Eliasson could use his position as a Visiting Professor with Uppsala University in a clever way to inject new ideas into the negotiations.8 In general, the academic community is likely to have considerable insights that are of relevance for the negotiations. It may also be possible to use the academic milieu as a possible framework for establishing separate channels of communication or for generating proposals for thorny issues. There even seems to be a need to have local representation for a mediation effort to be pursued with continuity and vigor. The lead mediator may have to travel extensively, to do the necessary diplomatic footwork associated with the efforts. However, there is also a need to be updated on what is happening within the primary parties. There may appear new opportunities that should be observed and acted on quickly. Having the full mediation team flying in at a particular juncture creates a lot of attention and expectation. Local representation may be a better way to capture the moment as well as preparing for the arrival of the team leader. Thus, not only having a high-caliber team based at the headquarters, but also having a support team on the ground, would strengthen the efforts. To further assure continuity of mediation and to keep momentum of the process, there is a need for more in-house documentation as well as greater cooperation between international organizations, national foreign ministries and nongovernmental organizations. These actors may benefit from having special offices for international conflict resolution efforts and policies for handing over “the file” to new envoys and mediators. Eliasson was appointed Personal Representative for the Iran-Iraq War, as “he knew the file.” He had been involved with Palme and, thus, had first-hand insight into the conflict. Similarly, Eliasson had experience with Darfur and Sudan prior to his appointment. On a more general level Eliasson was also able to apply what he learned from one mission to another. However, in many other situations a new third party comes in entirely “fresh” to the field. The UN Special Envoy to Burundi, Ahmedou Ould-Abdallah, experienced this lack of continuity in 1993 at the start of his mission. He scheduled briefings in Paris and Brussels on his way out to get an updated understanding of the situation on the ground before arriving.9 Though it is not effective if time has to be used for re-learning what has already been learned, we find, at this time, little evidence of the UN or other international organizations having clear procedures for making mediation efforts cumulative rather than sequential. The lessons on mediation resources can all be connected to one key word – cooperation. Effective and sustainable international mediation requires the cooperation and support of crucial elements of the international community, complementing the international organization with the possibility of adding “the drums in the background” to the process. It also calls for cooperation with local efforts and

8

Isak Svensson and Peter Wallensteen 2010. The Go-Betweeen. Jan Eliasson and the Styles of Mediation, Washington, D.C.: USIP Press, Chapter 3. 9 See Ahmedou Ould-Abdallah. Burundi on the Brink 1939–95: A UN Special Envoy Reflects on Preventive Diplomacy (Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press, 2000), pp. 56–57.

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forces for peace as well as individual and personal cooperation between the lead mediator and his/her team. Mediation as a profession and a long-term process needs to accumulate knowledge over time. For researchers interested in mediation, these lessons imply increased attention to research questions such as: How can multiple mediators cooperate to fulfill their objectives? What role do domestic conflict resolution resources play and how should the assets of the international community relate to them? What role do mediation support functions play and when are they effective in boosting mediation mandates and efforts? How can mediation knowledge be nurtured and transmitted between actors and across time? The mandate, the outcomes and the resources of mediation from the perspective of Jan Eliasson present intriguing lessons and inspiration for theory-development. However, these concern the general framework of mediation. We have yet to see what lessons can be drawn on how international mediation can be pursued fruitfully through the scope, methods, mode, and focus that are available to the mediator.

9.5

Styles in International Mediation

We have seen that Eliasson employed different styles of mediation over time and in different settings. Thus, the mediation style is likely to evolve for a particular mediator, but also vary with respect to the conflicts. We have identified four basic dimensions of mediation styles: scope, methods, mode, and focus. In this section, we will pursue the discussion by first examining how the different dimensions play out in the case of Eliasson, attempting to identify his particular mediation profile. At the end of this section we will turn to a comparative analysis of how his style compares to other international go-betweens and reflect on his style’s strengths and weaknesses.

9.5.1

Scope: Inclusive or Exclusive

When entering as a mediator, there are basic decisions to be made regarding the scope of the mediation efforts. Eliasson has not intervened until he has secured support from both the key international actors and the acceptance of the main parties in the conflict. The scope may also vary according to the conflict phases. When the operational mandate is about initiating processes, the scope can be more limited and centered on the main actors. During the process, it is crucial to cooperate with others initiatives, not least with regional actors. In the termination of mediation efforts it is critical that the mediation efforts are followed by other actors, within or outside the mandating organization. A major debate in mediation literature is whether to include all parties or exclude some. In an interstate conflict, such as the ones between Iran and Iraq, or even in the

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Nagorno-Karabakh issue, the parties are quite obvious. In the humanitarian cases, Eliasson’s efforts were largely directed at the governments. The complications arise in the internal conflicts. Interstate conflicts do not have this problem. In a regionally based conflict, such as the one in Darfur, it is again somewhat more complex. The diversification of actors in Darfur seems unprecedented and the two mediators had to spend considerable time trying to bring the many different movements together. It did not help that the Sudanese government side was also divided between the two parties to the 2005 Comprehensive Peace Agreement (covering the North-South conflict). When Eliasson and Salim called a peace conference on Darfur, they decided to be inclusive. Yet, this created a process of self-selection among the different factions. Only some wanted to participate, and several of the most important factions opted out since they questioned the legitimacy and representativeness of some that had accepted the invitation to attend. Whether the mediators wanted it or not, there was a selection, but also a fragmentation. Some invited actors, who saw themselves as obvious participants, refused to come because others were present whom they did not accept as legitimate. Eliasson’s scope in terms of the mediation process has been inclusive at different levels. In the discussion of the diplomacy of the entry, we outlined three levels that need to be ripe for a resolution of the conflict in order for the process to bear fruit.10 Obviously, the scope of Salim’s and Eliasson’s mediation efforts, due to the mandate and the setting, had to incorporate all levels. For instance, in order to move the Darfur process forward, Eliasson and Salim went between the international community, the regional actors and the parties in conflict. This was a way of trying to stimulate political will and forge the consensus needed for a peace process to materialize. The first level relates the go-between to the international community. It is important to create international cohesion. The international community, particularly the UN Security Council, must be united in a will to settle the conflict. Thus, it has to be in basic agreement on what this settlement process should look like. We have seen that Eliasson has gone to great lengths in order to include the major and most significant players at this level. In fact, the mediation process has often been just as much going between the parties as going between them and the international actors. A second important level is the regional context. Internal armed conflicts commonly have important regional linkages. Likewise, interstate conflicts do not occur in a vacuum, neighborhoods are affected and affect the dynamics of the conflict. Conflicts breed on other conflicts and interstate tensions. The primary parties need their neighbors in order to get access to arms, secure trade routes, build international prestige and reputation, and find political support. Primary parties need secondary parties. Therefore, protracted conflicts will not be ended unless there is also a movement on the regional level.

10

Svensson/Wallensteen (2010), Chapter 3.

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The primary parties form the third arena of action for the international go-between. First there is the government side in conflict. Its interest in a peaceful settlement and its internal cohesion are important prerequisites for progression toward peace. These factors can also be affected by the actions taken by the international go-between. In civil wars, a second difficult and contentious issue is who will represent the non-state actors fighting against the government. Here the international go-between has to work to get a coherent position from the movements to be present at the negotiation table. There is increasing attention in the mediation literature to the issue of inclusion versus exclusion. Some studies point to the significance of an inclusive approach.11 Given that there is a general proliferation of actors in conflicts at least since the early 1980s, it may provide a strong challenge to the future conduct of mediation.12 It certainly gives further support to the urgency of increased mediation resources, as mentioned above. It may also point to the importance of incorporating other actors into the peace process. In the Darfur case, Eliasson and Salim reached out to humanitarian organizations. We have seen in other cases, such as in the Liberian peace agreement of 2003, that women’s organization played a significant role in pressing primary parties toward and agreement.13 It is important that a large number of actors understand an agreement and can monitor its implementation. However, we also think civil society should not be made responsible for the process as such. It may serve a more significant democratizing function by being a competent crucial force in society.14

9.5.2

Method: Forcing or Fostering

Influencing the parties’ perception of the process is key to Eliasson’s style of international mediation. When entering as a mediator into a situation of See for instance the conclusions of Kelly M. Greenhill and Salomon Major 2006. “The Perils of Profiling–Civil War Spoilers and the Collapse of Intrastate Peace Accords,`` International Security 31, no 3, Harald H Saunders 2007) “The Multilevel Peace Process in Tajikistan”, Herding Cats, op.cit., 159–179 and Harmonie Toros (2008). “We Don’t Negotiate with Terrorists! Legitimacy and Complexity in Terrorist Conflicts” Security Dialogue, 39, no 4 (2008), 407–426. Desirée Nilsson comes to a somewhat different conclusion, finding that not all rebel movements in a conflict have to sign an agreement for peace to prevail between those parties who actually settle their conflict peacefully (2008). Nilsson, D. “Partial Peace: Rebel Groups Inside and Outside of Civil War Settlements”, Journal of Peace Research 43, no 4 (2008): 479–495. 12 See the work of Harbom, Melander and Wallensteen (2008). “Dyadic Dimensions of Armed Conflict, 1946–2007” Journal of Peace Research 45 (5): 697–710. 13 See Nilsson (2008), “Partial Peace”. 14 For more on this, see Peter Wallensteen and Mikael Eriksson, Negotiating Peace: Lessons from Three Comprehensive Peace Agreements, Uppsala, Sweden: Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University, 2009. 11

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humanitarian crisis or political conflict, Eliasson has tried to create a sense of momentum. The Palme team did consider the possibility of demanding concessions from the parties when entering the Iran-Iraq War in 1980 – making its acceptance of the mediation assignment conditional on initial progress in the peace process. However, the team did not pursue this forcing approach. Eliasson has not used conditionality in the entry phase of his mediation efforts. Instead, he has emphasized the creation of positive expectations to resolve the conflict or crisis. During his different missions, Eliasson has primarily used a fostering style. The international go-between has limited possibilities of forcing an agreement on the parties. Other mediators may be at an advantage here. But for those working on international mandates, it is more difficult to exert consistent leverage on the parties. Instead, the go-between has to develop incentives. Eliasson is clear on the need to appeal to the parties by arguments such as: the conflict has gone on too long, the suffering is too high, military solutions will not work, and there is a fair settlement at hand. Leverage can be generated, even artificially, for example if one party has a specific need that only the international body can provide, such as recognition. However, Eliasson’s style, in general, has not been based on developing leverage. Largely he has resorted to tactics of fostering agreement among the parties, rather than forcing it upon them. This means looking for ways of generating momentum, finding opportunities for reducing tension or building confidence while at the same time striving to make the conflict less severe. Much of Eliasson’s efforts have involved such a positive approach. The Palme mission suggested various confidence-building measures, some of which were actually implemented (ending the war on civilians in the border areas, for instance). The Eliasson mission for Iran-Iraq II also developed concrete confidence-building measures such as the release of prisoners-of-war. In the Nagorno-Karabakh case, considerable time was spent on creating a peace operation; to no avail, and in Darfur the focus was on persuading the parties to come to the negotiation table. These examples again illustrate the central importance of the parties. If they are seriously interested in solving a conflict, confidence-building measures might not be necessary: they may move ahead anyway. Under such circumstances, the mediator’s role is to build on the momentum. In several of Eliasson’s efforts there was little or no momentum to build on. Thus, confidence-building became a way forward: to create steps that would be tangible and generate the will to make peace. However, the parties must know the direction that the steps will take them. Otherwise, they are unlikely to take the first step. A primary task of the mediator, in other words, is to assess the will and visions of the parties during all phases of the mediation and the conflict. The personality of a mediator also affects the dynamics of mediation and plays a role if the mediator is perceived as fostering or forcing. The mediator needs to be aware that his or her personal character is integral to the effective application of mediation style. A mediator may appear tough, rude, uncompromising, principled and even dull, thus generating an image for the parties of being difficult to influence and move. Alternatively, the mediator may instead appear attentive, culturally

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sensitive and flexible or even charming, thus generating a willingness among the parties to cooperate and compromise. One or the other style may not appeal to the parties. Different mediators demonstrate different personality traits which, of course, will color their behavior. However, as we have observed, mediation also requires a bit of artistry and acting skills. On this score, Eliasson is at one end, clearly focused on the significance of generating a good atmosphere, developing a positive, shared and respectful problem-solving attitude that may turn a negotiation into a conversation without, however, losing track of the ultimate purpose. Other mediators seem to take a different attitude. Some mediators are described as chess-players (to borrow a label used by Paul Kavanagh) implying a constant concern with moves, counter-moves and future moves. This gives little room for anything beyond normal courtesy. In our interviews personality traits are often mentioned as important. Whether that actually is the case, however, is an open question.

9.5.3

Mode: Confidential or Open Mediation

In this study we have found that Eliasson employed different modes of mediation in different settings. At first, he was quite secretive and performed confidential mediation (Iran-Iraq), but later he increasingly appreciated the value of openness and public attention (Darfur in particular). Having realized the media can either enhance or hurt mediation efforts he may be one of the first media-conscious go-betweens. In all his cases of mediation, Eliasson has been public and open about the initiation of his mediation efforts. Whereas other go-betweens may have worked secretly, far away from the public arena, Eliasson has been in the limelight when entering a situation of humanitarian crisis or political conflict. The use of media has varied across the mediation efforts. During Eliasson’s first experience, he could see how Palme considered its role. However, a member of the Palme team, Iqbal Riza, described Palme as very careful in first fully informing the Security Council before talking to the media. This makes sense for maintaining support for the mediation effort. At the same time it was also important to engage media, because the primary parties make their own public statements. It is important for a mediator to convey a “correct” understanding of the mediation efforts. This engagement involves an educational element. The importance of media also appeared in another way. In 1993 Eliasson was criticized by the non-governmental organization Human Rights Watch for only privately condemning the forced relocations of people in Southern Sudan. He was said to continue “the failed policy of ‘quiet diplomacy’”. At his first mediation effort as a Special Representative to the Iran and Iraq conflict, in September 1988 in Geneva, Eliasson would also keep what the media referred to as a “low profile.” Conflict engages the primary parties, who watch the mediator very carefully. The humanitarian aspects will, however, activate other actors, who may also bring their

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perspective to bear. Thus, the mediator will have to be observant of many such interests. The actual conduct of negotiations, however, remains confidential. It is difficult for the mediator to publicly reveal much beyond what the parties can agree, if the mediation is to continue. This may bring the mediator to many dilemmas, including accusations of being partial or being blamed for the lack of results. All mediators are exposed to such dangers. But the multilateral mediator may suffer more, as his or her efforts are likely to be more public, thus making it more important for the parties to “win” the public relations battle. The mediator, in such circumstances, needs strong support primarily from the head of the mandating organization. For the prospective mediator it is important to have such support from the outset. Furthermore, by being accessible, the mediator seems more convincing and trustworthy when encountering the media. The go-between can also utilize other actors in the multilateral system in order to maximize his/her weight on the parties. In fact, while go-betweens show an open attitude, they may at the same time cooperate closely with more confidential channels. In Darfur, perhaps Eliasson’s most public intervention, he cooperated with the Geneva-based NGO Center for Humanitarian Dialogue, which held confidential workshops with the movement leaders. The endings of the international mediation efforts in which Eliasson has been engaged have varied in terms of their public or confidential modes. An interesting comparison can be made between the scaling down of the Palme mission in 1982 and the termination of the Eliasson-Salim Darfur mission. In the first case, the mediation team chose not to visit the region. It did not put forward new suggestions after finding that there was no political will to settle the conflict. After his fifth visit to the warring parties, Palme suggested disengaging from the mediation effort. Thus, this was going to be his last visit to the region. Palme, however, communicated this disengagement confidentially to the Secretary-General. The Secretary-General, however, asked Palme to remain Special Representative for the conflict between Iran and Iraq. By contrast, in Darfur, Eliasson and Salim decided to publicly reveal the lack of political willingness among the actors and thus clarify the parties’ own responsibility for the lack of progress in the process. This was done in a UN Security Council meeting. They pointed to the parties and, in effect, also to members of the Security Council. Thus, Eliasson demonstrates a mediation style that is unusually open and accessible. We suggest that this is consonant with the times: the media world today requires such an attitude, though it may not have been equally required in the 1980s.

9.5.4

Focus: From Narrow to Wide Peace

Throughout his career as a third party Eliasson has encountered the problem of “narrow or wide” peace – that is whether the focus should be on the immediate

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war-related issues or on broader dimensions, including justice. In Darfur this became particularly acute, after Eliasson ended his mission. A reason for his involvement in Darfur was Eliasson’s belief that the world had to react to the atrocities in the region. Thus, ending the conflict would be a way also to end the suffering of the population in the region. The injustices could end once the war ended. However, the negotiations were making slow progress. In all the cases there are basic moral dilemmas, through which the mediator has to navigate. Peace – even in the narrow sense of ending war, building conditions for durable peace and undoing some of the effects of war – may contradict justice in a number of ways. First, there are underlying reasons for the war (based on ethnic cleansing, genocide, marginalization of regions, etc.) and the issue of whether they need to be addressed in the peace process. Second, there are issues stemming from the conduct of the war (weapons used, targeting of civilians, treatment of prisoners of war, etc.) which all relate to issues of humanitarian law, in some cases even to war crimes, that fall under the auspices of the International Criminal Court. Third, there are the issues of initiating and ending the war: Does the peace agreement correspond to principles of legality and justice (the justification for the first attacks, the violation of borders, the keeping of territory, etc.)? This also relates to the outcome itself: For instance, does the peace agreement correspond to legally enshrined principles (the status of refugees, for instance)? The mediator, obviously, cannot pursue a justice-based approach when talking directly to the parties. It is unlikely that regimes would pursue mediation in the face of public criticism from a mediator; the mediator would be regarded as partial. For a mediator, there seems to be a difficult choice between a broader concept of peace including “justice” and a more narrow, traditional peace of ending a war. At the same time, Eliasson believes that the “moral high ground” should belong to the mediator. After all, the mediator represents an organization based on international law and humanitarian rules, which is committed to end a war that generates mass suffering. Mediation builds on the principles of peaceful settlement of disputes and the non-use of force between states. In the Iran-Iraq I, the Palme mission also emphasized the non-acquisition of territory by force, welcomed by the Iranians and difficult for the Iraqis reject. Thus, international law provides a principled standard beyond interests the parties. Eliasson and his mandating organizations addressed the challenges mainly by separating wider issues from the mediation effort. To Iran the war was unjust as it was started by Iraq. Thus, it was important for Iran to establish the responsibility for the war. This remained its approach throughout the war and was referred to in Resolution 598 of 1987 which led to the cease-fire of August 1988. For the Secretary-General it was a delicate issue to handle. The Kuwait war in 1990-91 in a way simplified the matter as it seriously weakened Iraq’s standing. Still, Iraq did not want to be branded as aggressor or face the prospect of compensation. Remarkably, it did not supply information to the panel of academics that investigated the issue in the second half of 1991. The report was submitted to the Secretary-General, who

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made it public on December 9, 1991.15 It recognized Iraq’s responsibility. Iran had probably expected compensation, but it was not forthcoming. Instead, Iran kept the aircraft that Iraq had based in Iran, to prevent the United States from attacking them during the Kuwait war. To Iran, peace was, in the end, accompanied by an element of justice. The Secretary-General turned this matter into a separate process, outside Eliasson’s mandate. There were also other moral issues activated by the conflicts and to which mediators have to relate. A particular concern in the Iran-Iraq War was the use of indiscriminate weapons and the deliberate targeting of civilians, primarily by the Iraqi side. The use of chemical weapons is banned according to the 1925 convention. When Iran strongly criticized the use of such weapons, the international community had to react. The Secretary-General gave the task of heading a mission to one person, Iqbal Riza, who also was a member of the mediation team. Formally, however, it was a separate undertaking, thus isolating the mediation efforts from the chemical weapons issue. Riza made a thorough investigation on both sides of the front lines. His report demonstrated that such weapons had been used by Iraq, but it could not conclude the same for Iran.16 Clearly, Iraq was trying to win the war through illegal weapons, with horrible effects. For a mediator this created a further dilemma: Such weapons clearly increased human suffering and would also prolong the war, even causing escalation. In retrospect, Eliasson believes he and the Palme mission should have been more active on this issue mobilizing, albeit discretely, other governments and opinion leaders. Riza, however, did what he believed was the right thing to do. He handed his report to the organ which could – and should – do something: the UN Security Council. It decided to do nothing. After this report had been presented, Riza was exposed to Iraq’s displeasure. In a campaign he was accused of being partial. The Secretary-General allowed Riza to leave the mediation team and initiated an investigation which fully cleared Riza. He later became chef de cabinet under Secretary-General Kofi Annan. Also the Nagorno-Karabakh issue presented moral issues apart from the need to stop the armed conflict. The fact was that Armenian and Karabakh forces had, by mid-1994, occupied one quarter of Azerbaijan’s territory and that this created a huge exodus of people. The cease-fire merely froze the status quo. It left Azerbaijan dismembered and with a large refugee population. International law would rule that the refugees have the right of return following the ending of warfare. This was clearly not in the cards. The peace negotiations certainly would take up the issue, but they had to work from a basis of a de facto occupation. Eliasson criticized Armenia and Nagorno-Karabakh for this, something the parties did not object to, since it was done on a humanitarian basis.

15

See the report of the Secretary-General, issued 9 December 1991 (S/23273 1991). See the reports emanating from the later missions of Iqbal Riza and his colleagues in 1987 and 1988 (S/17911 1986, S/18852 1987) as well as reports without Riza (S/20134 1988).

16

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To this we may add that many mediators will have to deal with regimes which do not adhere to values such as democracy, human rights, equality, and transparency. Iraq and Sudan were ruled by dictatorial or authoritarian regimes during Eliasson’s missions, Iran was under a theocratic system, democracy was weak in Armenia and Azerbaijan, both just coming out of seven decades of Soviet rule, and Burma/Myanmar was under military rule. The common values to which mediators may appeal, may have had little resonance in such ruling circles. Such a dilemma may again be particularly pronounced for a mediator coming from an international organization largely espousing such values. This would be the case with third parties from the UN, OSCE and African Union. Depending on the conflict they will be more or less acute for the mediator, who have to find a way to deal with it, while keeping to his or her main mission ending the war. For the mediator, the continuation of the war may be the greatest injustice of all.

9.6

Comparing Mediation Styles

In this discussion, we have tried to analyze the style of one go-between, Jan Eliasson, in terms of scope, method, mode, and focus. Building on this analysis, we can draw a tentative profile of Eliasson’s mediation style. He is a go-between that has moved from being closed to open, kept to a fostering rather than forcing style, worked more for inclusion of actors than exclusion and giving a narrower peace focus his priority. This particular style is in some sense unique to Eliasson, although he shares similarities with other go-betweens and other international mediators. The reasons for his choices of style are not necessarily only due to his personality but also to the mandates, the resources, as well as the types and the phases of conflict in which he has been active. Being a public go-between in the international arena, Eliasson has increasingly shown a preference for being open about his mediation. He has consistently preferred to move talks forward through a fostering method. This particular combination is very interesting. Its advantage is the possibility to create positive, public expectations and build on such a momentum. At the same time, it lacks the advantages of access to leverage. Other mediators, notably Holbrooke when engaged in former Yugoslavia, chose a more forcing approach. For instance, Holbrooke explicitly threatened the Serbian side during the negotiations with coercive measures and could enforce the credibility of those threats with NATO bombing on Serbian targets.17 By contrast, the American mediator in Northern Ireland, George Mitchell, applied a more fostering method by stressing the joint political and economic gains that could earned through a negotiated agreement. He

See Daniel Kurran, James K. Sebenius and Michael Watkins, “Two Paths to Peace: Contrasting George Mitchell in Northern Ireland with Richard Holbrooke in Bosnia–Herzegovina.” Negotiation Journal 20, no. 4 (2004): 513–537, 519.

17

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also engaged the parties for a long (and tiresome) period, and his approach has even been described as “relationship therapy”.18 One analysis points to the importance of how mediation ends, not only how it starts. Eliasson has made conscious decisions to withdraw from mediation, but refrained from doing so strategically. True to his fostering style, he has not created artificial deadlines and has not capitalized on real deadlines (although in principle he is in favor of the idea). Other mediators act differently. At crucial points during the negotiations over the former Yugoslavia, Holbrooke threatened to terminate his mediation effort when confronted with the intransigence by the Bosnian-Serb leader Radovan Karadzic.19 A second way to use termination dates for negotiations is to agree to or clarify end points. This is expected to sharpen the minds of the negotiators. Mitchell, who largely pursued a fostering method in Northern Ireland in the 1990s, still used the threat of his withdrawal if the parties did not meet a final deadline. Interestingly, this date was not unilaterally imposed by was carefully negotiated with the parties and governments.20 Another example stems from U.S. assistant secretary of state Chester A. Crocker, who mediated in southern Africa in the late 1980s. He was able to use the real deadline of U.S. elections and change of administration – clarifying for the negotiators that this would imply change of personnel and basic policy review. In Crocker’s words, “the U.S. mediators pressed the Angolans, Cubans, and South Africans not to waste years of effort. The agreements were signed ten days later.”21 In this way, Crocker and his team was able to create a sense of urgency that pressed the parties to an agreement. An entirely different approach is for the mediator not to terminate the mediation efforts. The Vatican mediation team in the Beagle Channel case (a dispute between Argentina and Chile) underlined that it would stay on and would never terminate the mediation efforts. “The mediator’s repeated statements that it would never abandon the mediation put the burden on the parties to withdraw.”22 A question is which of these styles will achieve and an ending to war and a lasting peace. Clearly, building on positive momentum and finding steps of agreement can be significant in the early phases of a peace process, when the parties are unwilling to engage in peace diplomacy. It means, however, that negotiations will take time, as they did in Northern Ireland. The more forceful approach, may thus be more appropriate when one wants quicker results, as was the wishes of the United States and the West in the Bosnia case. In Northern Ireland, the outcome is

18

Ibid. See Richard C. Holbrooke, “The Road to Sarajevo” in Herding Cats, pp. 341–342. 20 Kurran, Daniel, James K. Sebenius and Michael Watkins. ' Two Paths to Peace”, 525. 21 See Chester Crocker, “Peacemaking in Southern Africa: The Namibia-Angola Settlement of 1988” in Herding Cats, p. 229. 22 Thomas Princen, Intermediaries in International Conflict (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1992), 175. 19

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largely a self-sustaining peace, while in Bosnia the international presence remains heavy fifteen years after the agreement. Another conclusion that can be drawn from this study is that Eliasson achieved humanitarian goals with his style. His pure humanitarian mediation efforts in Burma and Sudan can both be considered quick and successful. Also, he gained achievements in the humanitarian dimension of the political mediation efforts, such as the agreements between Iran and Iraq not to attack border villages and to exchange prisoners of war, and the cease-fire agreements of 1994 in the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. As a public go-between on the international arena, Eliasson was able to create breakthroughs on the humanitarian front, when the parties may also have been concerned about demonstrating a positive image. Getting agreements on the central political issues, however turned out to be more difficult. One may wonder if more forceful methods would have been needed to make the parties abandon long-held positions and patterns of behavior and whether these could have come from the mediator. An aspiration for Eliasson has been to create opening and positive spillover effects from the humanitarian issues to the political sphere, “a foot inside the door,” as he told us. This dynamic has rarely materialized, however. Humanitarian accords have been important but remain isolated islands of agreements in a sea of disputes and animosity. On the positive side, they have decreased the suffering of affected civilian. On the negative side, some argue these measures may also have taken away an urgency to settle these conflicts by lowering the incentives for finding solutions. Other mediators have not sequenced their mediation in a similar manner. For instance, Alvaro de Soto, mediating in El Salvador, built his efforts on the premise that a cease-fire agreement should not come until the parties had agreed to substantial societal changes.23 Eliasson’s open mediation style has attractions but also weaknesses. One is that public mediation may make parties reluctant to reveal information to each other or jointly seek creative solutions based on such information. Other mediators that also work with a fostering method still have preferred confidentiality. For instance, in Burundi, the Sant’Egidio made progress by establishing a confidential negotiation channel once the official, public negotiations had reach an impasse.24 Moreover, the initially secret Oslo channel used an academic cover because the parties’ demanded deniability and thus created a confidential process.25 This may have been strategically important at that time, whereas all the following agreements in the Oslo process were negotiated in almost complete openness. An aspect of openness is the relationship to the media. We have observed an evolution in Eliasson’s approach. There are interesting alternatives. The Vatican mediation effort in the Beagle Channel case had a very different approach to media.

De Soto, Alvaro. “Ending Violent Conflict in El Salvador.” Chester Crocker, Fen Osler Hampson and Pamela Aall, eds., Herding Cats, p. 374. 24 Fabienne Hara “Burundi: A Case of Parallel Diplomacy,” in Herding Cats, p. 147. 25 See Egeland, “The Oslo Accord”, 530–531 and Juul, “Israel and Palestine?” 35. 23

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Right from the onset of the negotiation, the Vatican insisted that pubic press releases should only be made through the mediator. Thus the parties were not allowed to issue press statements separately.26 In this way, the Vatican go-betweens ensured strict control over information flow, minimizing the risk, in effect, of having to negotiate through media. Norway’s facilitators in Sri Lanka had another approach to public media. They worked with press releases (often done in cooperation with the primary parties) to avoid rumors and clarify misunderstandings, but left it to the parties themselves to generate public support for the peace process. Since the parties did not take on such a responsibility, this resulted in a thwarted public image of the peace process and an increasing public mistrust toward the mediation effort.27 The public international mediator can mobilize the international community and generate political will. Yet, the open mode may make it difficult to maintain confidentiality. The direct negotiations at the table may be confidential, but they are made in an atmosphere of publicity, the press waiting outside the negotiation room. With such international attention, each side knows that they will have to face their own constituencies after making concessions. The confidential setting could be more beneficial for concession making, but on the other hand, any mediator engaging in such activities will have problems creating public support. The dilemma has been recognized by the OSCE high commissioner on national minorities (HCNM), who worked in a strictly confidential mode.28 One possible “solution” to this dilemma could be for the mediator to be attentive to the particular phase of the conflict. Secrecy could be more important in the (earlier) phase where concessions need to be made. When the potential for agreement exists, however, it could be more important to create commitment. At this sage, a publicly oriented mediator can help to build public support for peace and get parties to publicly bind themselves to such agreements. Given that the international media have grown increasingly important in the field of peace diplomacy, knowing when to communicate and having the skills and resources to communicate correctly and effectively to the public is becoming more important. Thus, there is a potential problem for a multilateral go-between in combining a fostering method with openness. Eliasson’s mandate did not generally give him the clout to make the parties change positions, nor did the mandating multilateral organizations provide a sufficiently protected atmosphere of confidentiality, where the parties could feel safe to share information on their underlying interests and possible openings. Back-channel mediation, such as the Oslo process, is interesting from this perspective, as it had a particular ability to combine fostering and secret elements.

26

See Princen, Intermediaries in International Conflict, 175. See Höglund, Kristine and Isak Svensson. “Fallacy of the Peace Ownership Model.” Department of Peace and Conflict Research, 2009. 28 Van der Stoel, “The Role of the OSCE High Commissioner in Conflict Prevention”, 71–72. 27

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There is also another area where there are potential contradictions among different elements. We have characterized Eliasson’s style as exclusive in scope with a focus on a narrow concept of peace. The multilateral HCNM also varied between an exclusive and inclusive scope, but with a preventive mandate. HCNM also had the luxury of being broader in focus. Since the disputes on the HCNM agenda had not yet become violent, the focus was often on finding institutional approaches that satisfied minorities, thereby in effect contributing to more just societies.29 Other mediators have been more narrowly focused on peace. Lakhdar Brahimi, the international mediator in Iraq in 2004 and before that in Afghanistan, criticized “human rights purists” for failing to understand that peacemaking implied talking to people with blood on their hands. His focus was on reaching peace, not establishing justice. That does not imply that he did not care about human rights issues, just that he thought that it was not the mediator’s role to focus on human rights.30 Eliasson had to deal with authoritarian primary parties to reach an end to violence or solve humanitarian problems. Inclusion is an important but difficult dimension of international mediation style. Backed by his mandate, Eliasson opted for a more inclusive scope over time. The invitation to negotiations from Eliasson and Salim to the Darfur rebel factions was open, broad and inclusive. As we have seen, this created a difficult process of self-selection. Relevant actors contested the legitimacy of other factions. Intra-rebel tension halted the process. The Norwegian mediators faced a related problem in Sri Lanka. Deriving their mandate from the parties themselves they saw the LTTE and the government of Sri Lanka as the main parties, and thus allowed them to determine who should be at the negotiation table. This resulted in an exclusive process, where large segments of the society were not represented at the table.31 The scope has implications for the mediator’s focus. With an exclusive scope the agenda till also be affected. As mediators are tied by their mandates, a number of options are likely to be difficult to develop. In a sense, they are connected to the realities of the balance of power at the time. Mediators will have to accept the power that be in order to achieve the more limited objectives of mediation – for instance, preventing deteriorating conditions of diffusion of conflict, or ending ongoing violence. Achieving thorough social change is outside the reach of most mediators. At a minimum, however, we conclude that mediators must make sure that agreements make an allowance for the creation of more just societies – such as allowing the presence of civil society groups, freeing popular movements, protecting freedom of media, etc. A final observation is the remarkable consistency in Eliasson’s mediation style. It is likely to be the same for many other mediators. A mediator may develop a particular way of acting. When being selected, previous performance is likely to be a criterion. We note that Eliasson has changed primarily only with respect to scope,

29

Ibid. See Martin, Harriet. Kings of Peace-Pawns of War. London: Continuum International, 2006, 25. 31 See Höglund and Svensson “Fallacies of the Peace Ownership Approach”. 30

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where he has moved toward a broader inclusion of actors, and to mode, where he grew more open to the media and the public at large. With respect to focus on peace, he has also demonstrated greater willingness to incorporate broader conceptions. However, his emphasis has continuously been on a fostering approach: Trying to persuade the parties rather than to force them into agreement. The record of progress in this regard is mixed. This points to the importance of learning from other mediation efforts to find the right methods for a particular case: can fostering and forcing approaches be combined and would that enhance effectiveness? Eliasson’s mediation experience as well as those of many other mediators, are ad hoc and do not build on institutionalized resources for mediation. The limited successes of mediation in actually ending wars suggest the importance of a closer link between mediation research and mediation practice. This is what our final section deals with.

9.7

Ten Implications for Mediation Research and Mediation Practice

Let us now attempt to draw some general conclusions on international mediation from this study, applicable to mediation in practice and for mediation research. We have identified ten significant conclusions.

9.7.1

First: Incorporate Learning into the Mediation Process

This text has focused one mediator, Ambassador Jan Eliasson. His six different experiences of international political and humanitarian mediation demonstrate unique characteristics as well as the general aspects of mediation. Eliasson belongs to a small set of persons in the world with such an extensive experience of international mediation. The group also including personalities such as Martti Ahtisaari, Lakhtar Brahimi, Jimmy Carter, George Mitchell, Mohamed Sahnoun, and others. However, the pool of experienced mediator is remarkably small. Yet, how experiences and insights, fruitful approaches and failures are transmitted from one setting to another is an arena of study that has been little explored. There is an evident need of more knowledge on the longer-term developments of different types of third-party mediators. The question of how different – positive as well as negative – experiences are accumulated by the third-party mediators remains to be examined. In many conflict situations diplomats, politicians or representatives from the civil society engage themselves as mediators. Often they have no previous experience in mediating in serious armed conflict. There are risks associated with a lack of the

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professionalism that may be needed in order to manage the extreme complexities of today’s armed conflicts. To our knowledge there are no studies comparing such committed mediators to the more experienced ones. For the development of the field this seems as a highly urgent task. The protracted nature of many peace processes – with negotiations and peace agreements breaking down followed by new attempts to settle conflicts – underline the importance of finding ways for learning. Today’s many ad hoc mediation attempts may lead to ineffective, or even counterproductive, third-party interventions. There is a need to create systematic approaches to learning, sharing, training and knowledge-production in the field of international mediation. A way to gain such insights motivated this study. It turns out to be very fruitful to follow one mediator acting in several different contexts. Such analyses hold potential for the future and lessons from other experienced mediators are highly valuable. Together such work may also constitute the basis for comparative and statistical analysis, thus giving us generalized understandings of the art and science of mediation. However, learning can also be achieved in a more direct way than focusing on particular individual ‘stars’ in negotiations. We advocate that mediation efforts should be formulated as teams of individuals combining different competences, experiences and backgrounds, operating under one mandate. That would make it possible to cover, in a competent way, many different aspects involved in mediating an armed conflict or a serious international crisis. Mediation quality might improve. An advantage of such a mediation team is that it gives opportunities to train third-party mediators through actually participation in a real-life experience. To be involved as a junior diplomat or expert in a mediation team may yield valuable insights to be used in other efforts in the same conflicts or even elsewhere. This helps to deepen knowledge, praxis and insights in the third-party mediation profession. Certainly, experienced and world-renowned mediators have some clear advantages: they bring public attention to the situation, they have access to world political leadership, and their presence can help to create a positive momentum for a process towards peace. Yet, the complexity of conflicts and crises today points to the need for broader approaches that can manage the multidimensional aspects of conflicts. There are more parties to handle, increased need for public relations, more regional powers to be included, and a more active role for civil society. Forming mediation teams is a way of meeting the new complexities.

9.7.2

Second: Understand the Mandate

The mediators’ mandate is the cornerstone of mediation. This study has shown that the particular style of the mediators is largely driven by the mediation mandate. Previous research and policy-making debates have given surprisingly little attention to mediation mandates – how they are shaped, changed, and their strengths,

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weaknesses and effects. This is a neglected field of study. This is even more striking when comparing to peacekeeping, where the mandates are obvious starting-points for analysis and action. Thus, we argue that more study is needed of the mandate. No mediator operates without one. There is always someone “sending” the mediator to a particular situation, whether this would be a government, an inter-governmental organization, a non-governmental body or other organizations. The mandate will give space for the mediator, but also restrain the choices. To some extent, we think, a mediator can affect the mandate. The ‘stronger’ or the more attractive a particular mediator is, the more there is a possibility of impacting on the mandate. However, there is never complete freedom for a third party. The primary parties and the mandating body will make that clear. Thus, there is a need to scrutinize the mandates for a would-be mediator, as well as for mediation researchers. The implication for policy-makers is the importance of carefully crafting the mediators’ mandate. It has to resonate with the context, the phase of the conflict and the resources that the mediators have at their disposal. A particular problem in this regard is that there can be opposition to mediation by parties who see vital interests threatened. The opposition can come from the parties in conflict but also from outside states, neighbors or big powers. Thus there will be a tendency to restrict the mandate or limit the actions of the mediator. This provides a particular challenge in the process of shaping mediation mandates. Individuals, governments, and international organizations do not always intervene in the same type of conflicts. There is a selection process, which can create problems for mediation. It may lead to a mismatch between the request for particular mediators and the willingness of mediators to supply mediation. Finding the optimal fit between parties’ willingness to invite particular third-party mediators and get the appropriate mediators to intervene, is a crucial question in the designing mediation mandates.

9.7.3

Third: Make Way for Specific Styles in Mediation

As we have shown, mandates interact with styles in mediation. The styles of mediators vary according to the mediator as well as to the conflict situation that the mediator is facing. The framework for analyzing styles we have presented here – scope, method, mode and focus – is likely to be useful also for the study of other mediation efforts. Clearly, the style used by a particular mediator is not just a reflection of personality, but determined by the situation in which the mediator finds himself/herself. In addition, the style chosen may impact on the mediation processes, resulting in different outcomes. It is important for would-be mediators, as well as analysts who are examining mediation processes, to be aware of the style. The discussions on style in the mediation literature have been dominated by distinction between trust and power mediation, or the typology of facilitation-communication-manipulation. This is akin to what we describe as the

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“method”, in terms either fostering or forcing the parties towards peaceful relationships. Yet, this distinction is too simplistic to be analytical fruitful. Styles have many more dimensions. The scope in terms of inclusiveness, the mode as the degree of openness, and the focus in terms of broadness of peace aimed at are other pivotal aspects of the styles of mediators. This typology makes mediation styles a new research agenda. A systematic comparative approach, where the styles in mediation are empirically measured could shed light on conditions under which different mediation styles are effective in bringing about peaceful resolution of conflicts and crises. After understanding styles in such a broader sense, third-party mediators should be able to create their own particular style depending on the mandate and the context of the conflict situation in which they are involved. As we see here, the phase of the conflict is one of the most important aspects the context. This implies that the style can, and in many cases should, vary over time, depending on the phase that the process is at. For instance, a scope of the process could be more exclusive in the beginning of the process (mediation focusing only on the parties with armies, for instance) in order to pave the way for more inclusiveness later on (incorporating civil society, neighbors). Hence, paying careful attention to the basic dimensions involved in mediation styles, policy-makers can find new profiles in mediation and thus new ways of managing contemporary situations of conflicts.

9.7.4

Fourth: Assess the Humanitarian Aspect of Mediation

One important distinction seen in this work separates between political and humanitarian mediation. They are quite different in their mandates, processes as well as outcomes. Political mediation has dominated mediation study and policy-debates while leaving aside humanitarian mediation. Still, humanitarian mediation is an important aspect of international mediation, both in terms of frequency and its likelihood of success. Humanitarian mediation is underrated. As judged from this study there is a marked difference in how humanitarian and political mediation efforts are initiated. The parties themselves or local actors directly affected by the crises request humanitarian action in order to reduce acute suffering and/or prevent further deterioration of a situation. Humanitarian organizations play an important role in generating attention. Political mediation efforts, on the other hand, tend to stem from processes on the international arena. The international community needs to show the parties as well as their own constituencies that they are “doing something” about a particular political situation. The difference in how an operation starts has implications for how the process unfolds and the prospect for reaching constructive solutions. Humanitarian mediation efforts are more likely to be productive: temporary cease-fires may be negotiated, sufficient assistance delivered and an emergency, thus, may be managed. Humanitarian mediation gains from its distance from the highly sensitive political sphere. This may make it politically attractive to turn to

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humanitarian mediation. That said, however, the challenges and problems with humanitarian mediation should not be glossed over. One of the most promising but also problematic aspects of humanitarian mediation is its relationship to politics. It appears from our study that humanitarian mediation efforts rarely move the parties closer towards settlement of the underlying political issues. There is some immediate remedy, which is to be applauded, but political mediation face very entrenched interests that are more difficult to shift. We have seen such dynamics in this study, but the general patterns need to be discerned. In particular, there is an urgent need for an examination of the relationship between political and humanitarian processes in conflict settings. For instance, can humanitarian mediation efforts create a momentum that spills over into the political sphere? Or are humanitarian mediation efforts merely waiting games in order to gain good will and buy time in order to pursue the armed conflict with renewed ferocity?

9.7.5

Fifth: Focus on the Chances for Direct Dialogue

Efforts by a third-party to de-politicize issues for instance through humanitarian mediation in order to affect the political process is not necessarily a way to move forward. The intractability of political conflicts in general and armed conflicts in particular, underlines the importance of finding constructive ways of managing sensitive political issues. Using clout to get the parties to negotiate the political issues rarely leads to constructive and sustainable solutions. This points to a third alternative that is neither a-political nor power-based: to get a direct, political dialogue process between the parties themselves and help to sustain it. Many mediation efforts testify to the difficulties in achieving this but then also demonstrate that this is the core of conflict resolution. Thus, political mediation should be seen as a dialogue process where the parties maintain a straightforward but constructive direct dialogue. In this the strengths of political and humanitarian mediation efforts are combined. Creating a channel where the parties can negotiate directly on their political incompatibility seems to be the hallmark of successful mediation efforts.

9.7.6

Sixth: Create Institutional Support for Mediation

The individual mediators at the international scene are well-known and their capabilities tested in several different conflicts. Yet, the institutions of peace diplomacy are less developed. In order to be successful, third party mediation cannot only depend on individuals and their talents. In addition, there has to be an institutional setting for international mediation. Much of this structure is yet to be developed. An example is the following.

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International mediation sometimes tends to work in a “fly-in/fly-out” pattern, implying that mediation is not always initiated when it is most opportune. A local mediation presence in a conflict arena could maintain a more continuous process of dialogue. This might increase the chance for effective and peaceful outcomes. Permanent offices of mediation and facilitation could lower the audience costs for initiating dialogue. It would be more of a routine operation and thus less dramatic, if part of the mediation team is always at hand near the capital or the headquarters of the parties. It would also provide a way for mediators to react quickly when there seems to be an opportunity for them to act. Another example is to develop the institutional capability of public relations. The mediator is an important source of information for the media about the dynamics and obstacles of a peace process. We have noticed that media play an increasingly important role in how a mediation effort is perceived. Thus, it is important to provide a correct message. Some individual mediators may have the capacity to engage in such public diplomacy, but in the long run there has to be a more institutional basis for public relations.

9.7.7

Seventh: Be Alert to the Proliferation of Parties

One of the most important tasks for a mediator is to make a proper diagnosis. A thorough assessment of the situation – its complexity in terms of issues and actors – lays the basis for all further mediation efforts. The mediator’s first task when entering a conflict is to assess the situation in terms of whether the conditions are right for a successful effort. For that the international and regional scenes have to be favorable, as well as the primary parties and their supporters. The mediation agenda has become more complex. During the Cold War, also internal conflicts were polarized into a few blocks confronting each other. Since the Cold War the number of parties has increased. The creation of new groups is more common than the forging of united fronts. The relative ease with which groups can get access to arms, funds and loyalty is surprising, but it is a fact with which the mediator has to grapple. The mediator faces a problem that has not been part of previous experiences and only recently has been covered in the literature. There is even the possibility that the onset of mediation sparks the proliferation of groups. As the mediator teams cannot necessarily reach all groups at the same time, this may fuel suspicion among some and appear to favor others. New groups are quickly created. It is also difficult for the mediators to set the criteria of who should be invited to negotiations and who should not. Such decisions should most appropriately be made by the mandating organization rather than by the mediator. This would be a way to keep the integrity of the mediation intact: the mediator is following decisions by others in this regard. An alternative is to empower the mediator to deal with the selection of negotiating parties, but then the support of the mandating organization is crucial.

9.7 Ten Implications for Mediation Research and Mediation Practice

9.7.8

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Eighth: Relate to Other Third Parties

In recent political mediation there seems to be a plethora a third parties. By contrast, humanitarian mediation efforts seem mostly to be conducted by single mediators without parallel or competing mediation efforts. The political mediation draws the attention and involvement of many actors who work in sequence or in parallel efforts. The study of styles can help to identify how different types of mediators can complement each other. In many instances, a variation of styles may be needed. For instance, both fostering and forcing the parties could be used as methods simultaneously. Likewise, both a more inclusive and more exclusive scope can run in parallel in the process. Some mediators may focus more on justice and the broader types of peace, whereas other can focus on the task of getting a more narrow peace in the form of an end to violence. The exact composition of mediation teams – how it should be created in order to maximize the possibility for success – is a potential avenue for future research. Different mediators may bring in different types of leverage to the process. Some may bring sticks, other carrots, and still others may contribute more intangible resources such as information, trust, and the ability for face-saving. The circumstances under which these different resources strengthen and complement, rather than counteract each other, deserve to be examined.

9.7.9

Ninth: Find a Way to Intra-Party Mediation

One major obstacle that hinders progress in mediation processes is internal tension within the primary parties. Mediators try to bridge the gap between the parties, but oftentimes the stumbling block can be found within the parties themselves. Tensions between doves and hawks, between moderates and fundamentalists, or between competing centers of power, can stand in the way for any movement towards peace. Mediators tend to prioritize the relationship between the parties. Yet, there is a lack of focus on intra-party mediation. Thus, there is a need for mediators to mediate between the factions within the sides in conflicts. If mediators can play different roles, working in different relationship but towards a common goal, then the whole mediation effort would be more likely to be successful. An important field for further exploration is therefore to examine how indigenous resources can be brought to bear in peacemaking processes. Actors within a conflict setting can play a fruitful role in mitigating intra-party tensions. The jury is still out on how this can be done, and how it can complement inter-party mediation.

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9.7.10 Tenth: Be Open to Different Outcomes and Exits Success of mediation is an elusive concept. Looking for agreements, mandates, and long-term effects as three ways for evaluating mediation success. One should, however, bear in mind that outcomes of the process is not the only way to think of success. In intense conflicts with high levels of hostility and mistrust, the fact that the process is carried out has its own, intrinsic value. Keeping negotiation and mediation channels open can be a success in itself. In fact, it is common that mediation processes are associated with periods of reduced levels of fighting between the parties. An agreement may at first seem to be an appropriate indicator of success, some mediation efforts end when the parties have reached an agreement. Yet, even an agreement does not guarantee a positive outcome. Agreements can be abandoned or left unimplemented, and implementation can be slow, delayed, partial or biased. The question of scope is an important aspect of the diplomacy of exit. Many actors in the conflicts open up the possibility for partial peace. Factionalism within the sides may create increased complexity for the end phase of the mediation efforts. When there are several factions, the go-between can choose between making partial peace with those that were ready to come to the negotiation table. Alternatively, the mediator can wait until more actors are onboard – and, if they are not, withdraw from mediation. Another basis for evaluation is the mandate. The mediator, deriving his/her mandate primarily from the multilateral setting, needs to evaluate what is achieved in the mediation efforts according to the goal of the third party action. Success can also be categorized on a short-term to long-term continuum. Some types of outcomes can be more sustainable in the longer run; other can be effective but only in the short-term. There is a potential tension between short-term and long-term international mediation outcomes. Important in this regard is the cumulative aspects of international mediation, meaning that initial progress can pave the way for further success down the road. Even seemingly unsuccessful attempts can build the basis for progress later in the process. Hence, earlier mediation attempt may lay the ground for later success. Real failures in mediation would be if the process leaves the parties frustrated with the mediation, the mandate, or the mandating organization, or gives the parties a pretext for escalating the conflict. Mediators seldom see such effects. Often mediation aims at keeping the process going, with the hope of preventing conflict escalation and fostering direct dialogue and solutions. The hope can often remain just that. This study provides lessons that will enable mediators to better realize that hope.

Chapter 10

Talking Peace: International Mediation in Armed Conflicts Peter Wallensteen and Isak Svensson

Abstract This chapter presents an overview of what is known about mediation (as of 2014) by two well-known mediation researchers. It goes into the definition, data, frequency and strategies of mediation. It also discusses particular problems, such as mediator bias and coordination between mediation efforts. Finally, it raises matters of outcomes of mediation and challenges for continued mediation research.

10.1

Introduction

Mediation has developed into a significant tool for peacemaking in armed conflicts, and has subsequently stimulated an expanding research area of central importance in international peace research.1 There have however been few attempts up to now to summarize what we already know about international mediation in armed conflicts based on systematic empirical studies.2 This article aims to contribute to this end: It reviews the current state of international peace mediation research, with a particular focus on quantitative studies, as well as on significant theoretical and conceptual work. In so doing, it points to unresolved research puzzles and future challenges. In this article we therefore identify what we consider to be the main research debates, in particular those on mediation frequency, strategies, bias, coordination, and how to conceptualize ‘success’ in mediation. There are three reasons why such a review is necessary at this point in time. First, the study of international mediation has grown substantially in recent years, which means that it is timely to identify the state of the art in international mediation. Second, although the field has grown, it has not expanded in all directions, and the field therefore suffers from lacunas that urgently need to be addressed. Third, mediation research This Chapter reproduces with permission Wallensteen, Peter and Isak Svensson “Talking Peace: International Mediation in armed conflicts”, Journal of Peace Research Vol. 51 (2): 315–327. The authors are grateful to Ms. Anna Brandt for research efforts. Also, financial support from the Folke Bernadotte Academy and the Swedish Ministry for Foreign Affairs is graciously acknowledged. The authors remain solely responsible for the content. 2 One recent exception is Greig/Diehl (2012). 1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_10

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includes unresolved issues and discrepancies. It is hence important to emphasize that new research should build on previous insights to help accumulate knowledge. The main research question that this article addresses is under what conditions international mediation may bring about peaceful change; in other words, when is mediation effective in transforming destructive conflicts into constructive pursuits. We claim that the overall body of literature that now exists on international mediation provides credible evidence of its effectiveness, although the particular conditions under which mediation is effective are still debated. The study of international mediation is therefore an important research endeavor. By comparison with other foreign policy tools – economic sanctions, intervention, peacekeeping, and development aid – international mediation has been scrutinized and explored to a far lesser extent. Mediation represents a type of engagement that is not passive. It does not require expensive resources, as could be the case in peacekeeping, humanitarian assistance or sanctions enforcement. If the international research community were able to develop better ways of understanding – that is, describing and explaining – the role of international mediation in the context of armed conflicts, then there would undoubtedly be great opportunities to develop and refine mediation uses. This article moves from work that discusses mediation definitions to the efforts of creating datasets, and then proceeds to results from research on strategies, bias, coordination and outcomes. The final section outlines research challenges.

10.2

Defining Mediation

Since the field of mediation is wide (Wall/Dunne 2012), this article is limited to systematic (mostly quantitative) research on mediation (1) in the context of armed conflicts, thus, not including actions in disputes between labor and employers, nor in marriages, work places, or other relationships, nor within multilateral organizations and conferences; (2) between representatives of the main conflicting actors (and not Track II efforts, which deal with mediation at the grassroots level (Davidson/Montville 1981), or Track I ½ efforts, which usually deal with informal representatives of the parties); and (3) dealing with the conflicting issues (incompatibilities) or violent behavior, thus excluding mediation concerning related issues such as humanitarian consequences of armed conflicts. Mediation has been defined in different ways. A common description is the operative one used by Bercovitch et al. (1991: 8): mediation is ‘a process of conflict management where the disputants seek the assistance of, or accept an offer of help from, an individual, group, state or organization to settle their conflict or resolve their differences without resorting to physical violence or invoking the authority of the law’. This means that there is an ‘outside’ actor that is central, often described as a third party, who ‘does not have authority to impose an outcome’ (Wall et al. 2001:

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375). Others point to the fact that mediation is ‘a voluntary process in which the parties retain control over the outcome (pure mediation), although it may include positive and negative inducements (mediation with muscle)’ (Miall et al. 1999: 21– 22). The issue of ‘mediation with muscle’ is one of the disputes in the field (Princen 1992). Beardsley (2011: 18) is explicit in stipulating ‘third party reliance on nonviolent tactics’, while others are satisfied with not specifying what type of ‘help’ or ‘assistance’ the third party is providing. This is well summarized by Zartman and Touval (2007: 438) when defining mediation as ‘a mode of negotiation in which a third party helps the parties find a solution that they cannot find by themselves’. What is clear from this is that mediation is an activity geared towards resolving an ongoing dispute; that it is action by an autonomous, outside party (a third party); and that it uses persuasion rather than coercion; and that it aims to reach a solution acceptable to the (primary) parties. Thus, mediation aims at conflict resolution, and primarily achieves this through negotiations, resorting to reason, logic and, ultimately, by appealing to the common wishes to end violence and prevent its recurrence. There exists a discussion on whether ‘mediation with muscle’ is more effective than other types of mediation. It seems premature, however, to make use of violence by a third party an element of the definition. It is preferable to treat this as a separate dimension, and thus one may see more value in asking if peaceful mediation attempts are enhanced or undermined by the use of third party military force. There is, as a matter of fact, a clear gap in research into such a specific question, although it should be possible to study the effects of mediation in combination with, for instance, the use of sanctions, threats of war crime prosecution or military force.

10.3

Mediation Data

The field has witnessed the emergence of new data sources on mediation. With the help of mediation data, scholars may now respond to descriptive questions such as the frequency of, and trends in, mediation, as well as analytical questions on mediation practices and outcomes. Very early on, mediation and negotiation researchers realized the need for comparative information and statistical analysis for describing trends and facilitating systematic research. The seminal Correlates of War (COW) project contained no information on the ending of conflict as its focus was on systemic causes of major conflict. Thus, separate data collections were introduced, one of the first being the Conflict and Peace Databank (COPDAB), collecting information on daily events (visits, clashes, etc.) between and within states in the period 1948–1978, in all including half a million of such events (Azar 1980). However, this did not specifically deal with mediation or even crisis management.

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Two separately initiated projects led by Jacob Bercovitch and Michael Brecher were uniquely early in the field, with their focus on mediation and crisis management. Both have continued to be used and updated, and considerable statistical work has been based on these sources. Bercovitch focused on ‘international disputes,’ and was concerned about conflict management; hence the dataset was named ICM for International Conflict Management (Bercovitch et al. 1991; Bercovitch/Jackson 1997). It contains 3,377 conflict management events from 1945 to 2000 in 309 international conflicts that posed a grave threat to international peace and security. Relating to this work, DeRouen et al. (2011) developed a dataset specifically for civil war mediation (CWM), now covering 1946–2004 and largely applying Bercovitch’s definitions. This is parallel to another project also concerned with internal armed conflict and mediation studies as well as prevention concerns, the MILC (Managing Intrastate Low-Intensity Conflict) data, building on the armed conflict data from the Uppsala Conflict Data Program (UCDP). Although only covering 12 years (1993–2004) this project includes close to 3,500 preventive actions, many of which are classical mediation efforts, and it is presently being expanded (Melander et al. 2009). Brecher had interstate crises in mind, and data were collected accordingly and are consequently known as the International Crisis Behavior data (ICB, (Brecher 1993; Brecher/Wilkenfeld 2000). In the latest version (2010) ICB includes 455 international crises and 1,000 crisis actors from 1918 to 2007. Another dataset focusing on interstate relations was developed by Derrick Frazier and William Dixon, building on the Correlates of War data on Militarized interstate disputes (MIDs). This covers the period 1946–2000 with respect to what the authors term third party intervention; hence this dataset is referred to as TPI (Frazier/Dixon 2006). The dataset on diplomatic interventions developed by Patrick Regan and colleagues is also relevant here. It contains data on 438 diplomatic interventions in 68 intrastate conflicts (out of a total of 153 conflicts) from 1945 to 1999, where 352 of the interventions are mediation events, defined in line with Bercovitch et al. (1991) (Regan et al. 2009). Gartner/Melin (2009) compared some of the datasets and found that their use may lead to different results, not least with respect to the success of mediation. They urge researchers to be careful and preferably use several datasets when drawing conclusions. And this piece of advice will be heeded farther along in this article. Inferences based on several different datasets are thus seen to be more firmly anchored in present research. It should be noted that one important difference is that several datasets exclusively deal with interstate conflicts, whereas others only concern intrastate conflicts. Some actually cut across these distinctions, as they include conflicts that are deemed to be particularly important for international peace and security. In that sense MILC, CWM and Regan’s data may be the most compatible, and conclusions from them are directly applicable to civil war situations. As civil wars constitute the bulk of armed conflicts, this is an important factor to consider.

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Frequency of Mediation

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Frequency of Mediation

Mediation research faces a new beginning with respect to the issue of internal wars, and the efforts that have gone into such research have dramatically increased over the past few decades.3 The new data sources make it possible to give general responses to questions such as the frequency of mediation, its geographical variations and changes over time. First, mediated settlements have become increasingly common, especially since the end of the World War II. However, during the Cold War period there was a noticeable lack of mediation or other third party activity. From the 1990s, negotiated settlements became equally or even more common than military victories (Kreutz 2010). Looking at conflict episodes since 1946, Kreutz reports that out of all terminations during the Cold War, peace agreements made up 8.4% and victories 58.2%. Since 1990 these shares have reversed to 18.4% and 13.6% respectively (Kreutz 2010: 246). These conflicts are mainly intrastate, which also is consonant with the data collected by DeRouen and associates (DeRouen/Bercovitch 2012). Greig and Diehl (2012) conclude that there were more mediation attempts during the 1990s (64%) than during the entire 1945–1989 period, and this trend seems to remain (Themnér/Wallensteen 2013). There is also agreement that the frequency of mediation in conflicts in Africa is proportional to its share of armed conflicts in the world, whereas Europe ‘seems to have received a disproportionate number of mediations’ (DeRouen/Bercovitch 2012): 68). Together with the Middle East these are conflict zones that are ‘over-mediated’, while the East-Asia/Pacific region is ‘under-mediated’, as stated by (Greig/Diehl 2012: 44–45). This pattern has also been reported by other sources, notably by Bercovitch and Jackson (1997). Building on UCDP data, Melander et al. (2009) find that the Middle East attracts the greatest third party involvement relative to the active number of conflict dyads (mostly due to the Israel-Palestine conflict). In all of these studies, Asia sees less international mediation activity than would be expected, something also noted in Wallensteen et al. (2009). Second, there is agreement that there has been a shift in mediation efforts from interstate conflict to civil wars. Between 1945 and 1979, interstate conflicts received more mediation attempts compared to civil wars, even if civil wars in each decade were more frequent. In the 1980s this pattern began to change and the frequency of civil war mediation exceeded interstate conflict mediation. The same holds true for the 1990s. DeRouen/Bercovitch (2012) find that mediation in civil wars began to rise dramatically in the early 1990s. It declined again in the early 2000s, but still remained well above the Cold War level.

In a search on Web of Knowledge for this article on “mediation in conflict” Anna Brandt found that there was only one relevant article in the five-year period of 1981–5 and one in 1986–1990. Since then there is a dramatic increase: 19, 23, 25 and 59 for the most recent five-year period, 2006–10.

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Third, there is also a documented trend showing an increase in the number of actors involved in mediation. It may, in fact, mean a reduced role for international governmental organizations in third party activity, at least in relative terms. Instead, regional organizations have enhanced their role (Pevehouse 2002: 616; Hansen et al. 2008). Comparing the periods before and after 1980, the frequency of regional mediation has almost doubled. Obviously this shift remains understudied, as noted by Gartner (2011). As the total amount of mediation has increased, the absolute involvement may still be higher than before, as explained by Greig and Diehl: ‘… the decline in the relative share of total global mediation activity conducted by the UN is a function of the dramatic rise in the overall application of mediation, rather than a diminution of the provision of mediation by the UN’ (Greig/Diehl 2012: 68). However, IGOs (international governmental organizations) are bodies constituted by states, and in many situations, states may prefer to act on their own (whether authorized by, say, the UN or not). Thus is it not surprising to find that states, and particularly major powers, have been the most frequent third parties. There was a decline in UN-led mediation efforts from 1956 onwards, when superpowers were directly in charge of such efforts (Bercovitch/Jackson 1997). Greig and Diehl (2012) find that IGOs as well as states are the most frequent mediators (1945–1999), the United States being the most typical state mediator actor and China being the least engaged in such a way. Representatives of medium-size and small countries constitute important categories, as reported by two different studies. Combined, these governments are as much, if not more involved than major powers (Regan et al. 2009; DeRouen/Bercovitch 2012). The patterns are similar with respect to low-intensity conflicts (Melander et al. 2009). There are also discussions about what is not conveyed by these numbers. Notably, states may be active first, and later hand mediation over to other actors, like IGOs. These initiatives then often go to regional organizations, and only if mediation should fail at this level will they be brought to the UN (Bercovitch/ Jackson 1997). A trend has surfaced that regional organizations have taken a greater role in managing conflicts since the end of the Cold War (Frazier/Dixon 2006). However, the issues may later arrive at the UN, which would thereby have to deal with the most difficult cases as a result of a selection effect. This means that the sequencing of mediation as well as the coordination of mediation have become relevant issues for mediation practice as well as for mediation research. What are the conditions under which parties to a conflict accept third party mediation? And why do third parties accept to act as third parties in the first place? There has been some discussion about these two intertwined decision-making processes. Greig and Regan (Greig/Regan 2008), for example, identify factors such as being a neighboring state to the country in conflict, prior involvement in the dispute, a shared defense pact, and a former colonial tie as increasing the chance that a state will accept to act as a mediator. According to Greig/Diehl (2012) we know considerably less about the disputants’ choice of mediators, but mediators that are willing to broker an agreement fairly and mediators with leverage, i.e. resources and influence, appear to be desirable. When it comes to variation between mediation in civil wars and international conflicts, Melin/Svensson (2009) find that

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Frequency of Mediation

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mediation tends to be accepted only in the most serious cases of civil wars, while disputants in international conflicts are more willing to involve mediators. This variation derives from the higher political costs of accepting a mediator for a government facing civil war, since this may legitimize its opponent. The frequency of mediation is relatively well studied. However, there are still important areas where more knowledge is needed. For one, previous research has predominately examined mediation in very general terms, without sufficiently distinguishing between different types of mediation (e.g. agenda setting, facilitation, implementation). Also, different types of mediators may go into different kinds of situations, pre-disposing them to different mediation challenges. In addition, it seems logical that decision-making varies according to whether the mediator is a state, a regional organization, the UN or an individual. Actor-disaggregated analysis can therefore be a fruitful way for future mediation research. Moreover, there may well be a strategic interplay between different types of mediators in their decisions to involve themselves in a conflict situation. Finally, the obvious regional variations in international mediation lack a comprehensive and convincing explanation.

10.5

Strategies in Mediation

A basic research problem has been to identify what the most effective strategy for mediators is. This question is indeed key, since by identifying the optimal strategy mediators will become more effective peacemakers. There is, however, no consensus among researchers and practitioners as to which strategy is used the most and which is most effective. Even what terminology to use is a divisive issue. Touval/Zartman (1985) and Bercovitch (1992), for instance, distinguish between what they refer to as the formulative, facilitative and manipulative types of mediation, a terminology used in some studies. Others have suggested that strategies should rather be described as ‘forcing’ or ‘fostering’ (Curran et al. 2004; Svensson/ Wallensteen 2010), which provides categories that partly overlap with Touval, Zartman and Bercovitch, but are possibly easier to understand. Strategy issues also relate to the question of power (for instance, ‘mediation with muscle’ as mentioned previously) and the use of leverage by the mediator (or the powers that support the mediator). In fact, the mediator’s style and power often become intertwined in the studies. The most recent work by DeRouen/Bercovitch (2012) finds that the most frequent civil war mediation efforts are formulative (procedural), followed by facilitative (communicative), while manipulation (directive) has been used the least often. Gurses et al. (2008), examining the impact of mediation on the duration of peace after civil wars, conclude that the presence of mediation is associated with longer-lasting peace, while superpower mediation (that might be coercive towards belligerents) increased the probability of renewed fighting. Möller et al. (2011) find that facilitative and formulative strategies are more useful in territorial (secessionist) wars. Nathan (1999), drawing on results from peacemaking processes in African

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civil wars, suggests that international mediation becomes counter-productive when mediators try to pressure or threaten the warring parties, as this will make the mediators loose the parties’ trust. Thus, a series of studies point to the utility of fostering rather than forcing strategies. In contrast, Sisk (2009) argues that in order to counter provocative violence and potential or actual spoilers, there is a need for powerful peacemaking, using persuasion, pressure, and even military power. Very early on, Touval contended that ‘the more powerful international actors are, the more effective they are as intermediaries’ (Touval 1975: 68). Mediator that can change or influence the conflict parties’ resources to continue the war, or that can offer rewards for a peaceful settlement, who will have the leverage necessary for mediation to be effective (Stedman 1996: 358). As a consequence, great powers could be expected to be particularly effective (Crocker 1992; Touval 1992). Indeed, Gelpi (1999) finds that great power mediation increases the chance for mediation success. However, this has not led to a consensus that major powers or coercive strategies are optimal. Böhmelt (2010) finds that Track I (state-driven diplomacy) is likely to be the most effective as it has greater leverage and more resources, but it is when combining both official and unofficial tracks that mediation is most effective. In line with this, Svensson (2007) makes a case for a combination of mediators building on trust and power. One observation is therefore that the research field has generated important insights, but no comprehensive framework that could explain empirical results from systematic studies. A promising solution suggested by Bercovitch/ Gartner (2006) is to distinguish between high- and low-intensity conflicts, they find that strategies that push the parties towards a settlement appear more effective in high-intensity conflicts, but less effective in low-intensity conflicts where, instead, procedural strategies seem more optimal. In addition, Wilkenfeld et al. (2005) and Beardsley et al. (2006) point to long term consequences, not just the immediate ending of war, when assessing mediation. These studies address the relationship between mediation style and crisis outcome, observing that facilitative mediation was more conducive to reducing post-crisis tensions and commitment problems.4 This is so, the authors argue, because facilitation enables the parties to recognize agreements that are mutually preferable to conflict. Mediators tend to use manipulative strategies to achieve formal agreements and reduce overall crisis abatement. Beardsley (2008) shows that artificial incentives provided by mediators in general and powerful mediators in particular, can hinder long-term stability, which could indicate that more powerful and hard strategies are ultimately counter-productive. Interestingly, this appears to suggest a different conclusion, namely that the most durable agreements may be those reached with as little outside help as possible.5

4

Commitment problem is the bargaining challenge of time inconsistency: the fact that future power shifts or advantages to exploit a cooperative arrangement may hinder even benign actors to reach an accommodation in the present. 5 In later years, the end of the internal conflicts in both South Africa and Nepal has been seen as examples of this.

10.5

Strategies in Mediation

217

Three important research challenges emerge from the review of mediation strategies. First, there are obvious and contradictory propositions as to the strategies as well as the efficacy of outside mediator intervention. Thus, an important task is to harmonize the different findings by developing a more thorough understanding of the conditions under which the different mediation strategies are most effective. A conclusion could be that different strategies are effective in different phases of a conflict. The second question is one of sequencing (Heldt 2009): the use of a particular mediation strategy rarely occurs in isolation. In the comparative study of several mediation efforts, mediator Jan Eliasson perceived the benefits of having ‘drums in the background’ (Svensson/Wallensteen 2010: 80). Lastly, the empirical study of different mediation strategies is also affected by the fact that coercive strategies (such as forcing or manipulation) include the simultaneous use of softer strategies (such as fostering or facilitation). This therefore suggests that the forcing or manipulative element of a mediation endeavor is not necessarily to be credited for the occurrence of change.

10.6

Bias and Mediation

The question of bias is central in mediation research for two major reasons. First, it undermines the true meaning of mediation. Some mediation scholars perceive full impartiality as a prerequisite for mediators. This is not an uncommon perception. For instance, Assefa (1987: 22) suggests that there is a general agreement that both neutrality towards the issue in dispute and ‘independence from all parties to the conflict’ are ‘requisites for the successful mediator’. Similarly, Wehr (1979: 51) claims that strict neutrality is necessary, and that a mediator’s credibility is contingent upon the absence of a ‘commitment to any party in the conflict’. Ott (1972: 597), in his definition of mediation, goes as far as stating that the mediator should have no interest whatever in the dispute. And in line with this, Jackson (1952: 129) argues that ‘it would be difficult, if not impossible, for a single mediator who was distrusted by one of the parties, to carry out any useful function’. Others, however, tend to not necessarily view mediation bias as an obstacle and claim that even mediators with a bias can achieve results. This latter view has found support in empirical studies, which show that biased mediators sometimes have more leverage than other mediators, and are therefore particularly well suited to act as third party mediators despite their bias (Touval 1975). Leverage, or in other words, the ability to influence the parties, is arguably a more important asset for mediators than their neutrality and since links with one side can create possibilities for influence, bias and leverage are sometimes connected (Touval/Zartman 2001; Zartman 1995). Recent debates on bias in mediation have focused on how it relates to bargaining problems. Kydd (2003) argues that unbiased mediators are not credible, as they will have strong incentives to portray the other side as peaceful, irrespective of it being true or not. They have, as it were, an inherent bias for peace and a strong interest in reducing or containing the conflict. According to Kydd’s model, mediators with a

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bias for one actor, but holding information about the other side, are effective mediators as they can credibly convince ‘their’ side to make the necessary concessions to reach a negotiated solution to the conflict. Savun (2008) finds empirical support for Kydd’s theory and his suggestion of a fundamental credibility issue with unbiased mediators. Similarly, Smith/Stam (2003: 127) argue that mediators motivated by a desire for peace will face a problem of credibility since they will be ‘lying to hasten the end of the war (…) thereby making the message uninformative and hence unbelievable’. By distinguishing between the third party’s preference for avoiding war and the preference over different negotiated settlements Rauchhaus (2006), argues that both interested mediators and mediators biased in favor of the side about to accept a concession, are likely to be effective peacemakers. Some empirical evidence exists that supports biased mediators. Melin (2011) shows that a third party biased towards one disputant, is quicker to offer ‘management services’ than third parties biased towards both parties or unbiased third parties. Svensson (2007) proposes that in the study of civil wars, research on mediation needs to separate between rebel-biased and government-biased mediators. Since rebels often gain through peace processes, there can be a rebel-sided commitment problem, which government-biased mediators are particularly equipped to mitigate. And government- and rebel-biased mediators also seem to be associated with different types of peace settlements (Svensson 2009). Beber (2012) is more skeptical about biased mediators, suggesting that such mediators have not been the main drivers of change even in the mediation processes that are commonly mentioned as evidence of the effectiveness of biased mediation. Two other propositions have emerged showing this same potential in other categories of mediators. First, Crescenzi et al. (2011), building on Kydd’s model of biased mediation, put forward the idea that democracies are unbiased mediators with reputational concerns that can make them credible communicators of information. Second, Svensson and Lindgren (2013) suggest that internal mediators, that is, mediators from the same society as the belligerents, can be particularly effective in overcoming information failures that can occur between the conflict parties. They have added reputational costs to consider (in contrast to outsiders, they will remain in the conflict society after the actual mediation process) which make them credible. Internal mediators are commonly called ‘insider-partial’, and have been identified as important domestic resources for peacemaking (Wehr/Lederach 1991). The issue of bias in mediation is still not resolved. As with mediation strategies, there is a need to examine the precise conditions under which biased and unbiased mediators can be effective peacemakers. This calls for a more disaggregated empirical analysis, for instance of different phases, societal levels or types of conflict situations. There is also room for theoretical development. As to the bargaining perspective, there are major unresolved issues: a) how do mediators get access to private information from the conflicting actors (which is necessary for mediators to help mitigate the bargaining problem related to disincentives to reveal private information – (information failure)? and b) why are some unbiased mediators successful, despite the theoretical expectation that they will not be credible information carriers due to their perceived incentives to bluff to achieve peace?

10.6

Bias and Mediation

219

From a rational choice perspective, the main causal mechanism linking biased mediators to mediation success is still not identified. Are biased mediators helping their side reach a beneficial agreement, or are they in fact forcing their side to make concessions, using their unique leverage over the side they support? And what is the relationship between these two seemingly contradictory mechanisms?

10.7

Mediation Coordination

For practitioners the issue of several mediators engaged in the same conflict triggers particular concerns. This is what we call the coordination problem in mediation practice and research. It raises the question of who is actually leading the mediation efforts. Such a situation has been noted in studies, for instance by Crocker et al. (1999). Many of the datasets referenced above actually invite such a discussion, and there exist relevant findings for this purpose. For instance, Greig/Diehl (2012) observe that a majority (52%) of post World War II mediation efforts were conducted by just one mediator. The authors also note that state mediators have a higher tendency to mediate alone compared to representatives from international organizations. They imply that mediators from international organizations will have broader, more diverse concerns for the efforts. When it comes to origins of mediators in civil conflicts, at least half of the mediators normally come from the conflict’s geographical region; this is true for all regions but the Middle East, which reflects the highly international character of the Israel-Palestinian conflict (Regan et al. 2009). It is also important to note the interests of the countries immediately surrounding a country at war. Their particular concern can be expressed by a regional organization taking a mediation initiative or through direct involvement in the negotiation process by neighboring states. Thus, the fact that there is an increasing number of mediators makes the coordination problem more acute today than it may have been historically. Global and regional organizations will have their own interests, and so will major powers, regional and neighboring states, and non-governmental organization and local civil society actors. The diversity of actors may therefore become an important issue for practitioners and, thus, constitute a novel challenge for mediation research. Beber (2010) has done some work on this aspect of mediation. His work starts from the observed strong correlation between the number of mediators and the more likely conflict settlement. However, unpacking this, he finds this relationship to be spurious. As an agreement comes closer, more actors get involved. This, he posits, is not a causal effect but rather one of other actors wanting to take credit or cement the agreement that appears to be on its way. This issue has been raised by Böhmelt (2012) and turned into new line of inquiry. As mentioned, from the practitioner perspective this is a matter of the lead mediator: the person has the ultimate responsibility for the mediation efforts has to be clear in order to avoid ‘forum shopping’ or ‘mediator hopping’. In accounts from different cases, this is an obvious concern for mediators. The efforts of one can be undermined by others,

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notably those with more particularistic ambitions. This was illustrated during the mediation of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict in 1994, when Russia acted on its own against the official mediator of the C/OSCE (Svensson/Wallensteen 2010). As (Böhmelt 2012) remarks, it may require a coalition among the mediators to coordinate action. Empirically, we can observe that international organizations tend to be clearer on coordination, by giving one person a mandate for a particular conflict or issue, thus avoiding diffuse signals. The problem described here can however be even more complex, as some states will have their own concerns in relation to a specific conflict and thus advocate their own solution to it. This is true of major powers, but it also applies to regional actors with political ambitions in its neighborhood. This means that the mediation efforts become part of particular actors’ foreign policies, blurring the message in such a way that it is not clear if the central concern is the ‘best’ interests of the warring parties or of the power driving or supporting the mediation efforts. As per the discussion of mediator bias, this may not preclude ‘success’, but it may affect, for instance, certain provisions as part of a settlement, and this, indeed, remains an area of concern. Additionally, there have been, up to now, few systematic studies of the mediators themselves and the way they perceive their work and in particular of the issue of the coordination of mediation efforts. The UN system has a number of mediators at work, mostly defined as Special Representatives of the UN Secretary-General (SRSG), and the EU also has its Special Representatives (EUSR) (Johansson et al. 2010; Peck et al. 2008). It has been noted that the EUSR has often taken a secondary role compared to the UN or major power actors (Johansson et al. 2010). Mediation research has largely focused on mediation action, and neglected the institutional aspects of mediation. There is therefore a need to understand increasing institutionalization of mediation and how such institutional mechanisms help or hinder mediation. Moreover, the tensions between different third party interests have not been systematically examined. For instance, how are conflicts between the mediators mediated? From both a research and a practice perspective, the inter-mediators mediation processes require further examination.

10.8

Mediation and Outcomes

A perennial question afflicting mediation efforts, and consequently mediation research, concerns the criteria defining success. How do practitioners and researchers alike find indicators that can help describe a process and its outcome? The meaning of success is much disputed among scholars of international mediation (Kleiboer 1996)), and indicators vary substantially. Frei (1976: 69) uses the actual occurrence of mediation as a measure of mediation success. He defines mediation success ‘as a situation in which both parties to the conflict formally or

10.8

Mediation and Outcomes

221

informally accept a mediator and a mediation attempt within five days after the first attempt’. It could be argued that this reflects an era of relatively few mediation attempts and that there were therefore higher expectations when they occurred. Another measure of mediation success has been used more frequently in this context: the ending of violent behavior (Regan and Aydin 2006; Regan/Stam 2000; Gelpi 1999). Nathan (1999: 3) raises the requirements by defining mediation as successful ‘when it leads to the termination of hostilities and the advent of democratic governance.’ This definition clearly being geared towards intrastate conflict, a more general and frequently used measure of mediation success is the signing of peace agreements (Savun 2008; Beardsley et al. 2006; Bercovitch et al. 1991). If one considers a situation where the parties reach any type of agreement (from cease-fire to comprehensive settlement) as successful, then most mediation efforts (55%) fail, as they often do not result in such formalized outcomes. When using such a criterion, mediation during the Cold War, although less frequently used, tended to have a higher success rate than mediation efforts later on (Greig/Diehl 2012). This may suggest that post-Cold War peace negotiations have tended to be more protracted and part of longer negotiation processes. For instance, Greig/Diehl (2012) note that further mediation attempts improve the success rate. Regan et al. (2009) even find that over 57% of all mediation efforts result in a ceasefire and only 4% completely fail. Thus, the fact that mediation efforts may have been more protracted does not exclude the possibility there also can be a number of faster processes. A more comprehensive approach to this question is that applied in Beardsley (2008) and Beardsley et al. (2006), which examine both short-term and long-term stability after interstate crises. The authors find interesting discrepancies between these two types of mediation outcomes. Svensson (2009) suggests that peace agreements and other formal measures of success may be too broad and that outcomes need to be disaggregated into separate institutional peace arrangements such as reaching an agreement on political or territorial power-sharing, third party security guarantees, or justice provisions. A similar line of thought can be found in Gartner (2012). These studies point to a more long-term perspective on mediation success, thus going beyond the actual ending of violent behavior. And this therefore leads to the question of the recurrence of conflict: do mediated solutions lead to a lower chance that conflict and war will recur compared to alternative ends to conflict, such as victory or agreements reached directly between the parties? There are data suggesting that this could indeed be the case. Building on the UCDP conflict termination data, Kreutz has calculated that in the 1990s, 9.5% of all victories restarted, compared to 40% of victories in the early 2000s, while for negotiated settlements, 46,1% of conflicts restarted in the first period but this share decreased to 21.0% in the second.6 The sample is small, but the trend is still

6

This has specifically been calculated by Dr. Joakim Kreutz, Uppsala University, for this article, March 1, 2013, based on Kreutz (2010).

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interesting, suggesting that there was some degree of learning from the obvious peace making failures of the 1990s which led to more lasting successes later.7 The possibility of a selection effect in the supply of mediation should also influence the overall evaluation of mediation and its success. And indeed, there are studies showing that mediators may only get involved in conflicts where belligerents are unable to solve their dispute by themselves. This then means that the initiation of mediation may signal a more intractable conflict. Studies of mediation must therefore address selection effects, something that has increasingly been done (Bercovitch/Gartner 2006; Gartner 2011: 388). Given the fact that, on the one hand, the mediator operates in a situation that is stacked against any degree of success, and that on the other one might argue that when the parties actually do agree, they may have done so without the involvement of the mediator, the logically ensuing question could be to ask what added value mediators bring to the conflict resolution. This, then, may lead us back to the issue of who the mediator is. Mediation by international organizations (UN and regional organizations) as well as by the USA is correlated with success. In a qualitative study on regional actors in Cambodia and Haiti, Nguyen (2002) found that the best outcome was achieved when the regional actor worked in close collaboration with the UN and major powers, thus illustrating the interplay between different mediators. For the conflicted parties an outcome supported by the UN or by the USA may have greater value than one concluded only between themselves. Additionally, Nguyen points to the legitimacy and the resources brought to achieve these agreements. It would therefore make sense for the parties to try to select the mediator or those mediators that not only are biased towards their own position but who also can bring resources that help end their conflict. It is timely at this point in the article to raise a critical point that quantitative research has not sufficiently anchored in the study of mediation process. As seen above, the absence of conflict behavior is commonly used as the main indicator of mediation success. Yet, if studies examine the end of conflict without distinguishing between how conflicts have ended, the analysis may very well be skewed. There is a qualitative difference between termination through military victory as opposed to a negotiated settlement. If mediation facilitates the reaching of military victories – for instance, by providing breathing space for the re-armament of fighters – then the causal processes are not the same as when mediators facilitate negotiated settlements. Using conflict behavior termination to measure mediation success is therefore highly problematic, and mediation research needs to move forward by disaggregating conflict endings in order to detect actual causal processes.

7

Examples abound, for instance Liberia saw a number of overturned agreements in the 1990s despite many international mediation efforts, but the agreement reached in 2003 was still standing ten years later.

10.9

10.9

Challenges to Mediation Research

223

Challenges to Mediation Research

This overview of mediation research demonstrates that progress has been achieved, as illustrated by theoretical developments, the existence of more data and agreed-upon results useful for scholarship and practice. However, this particular field within peace research may be late in developing. Compared to areas such as causes of war, peacekeeping, and even peace agreements, there remain many unanswered questions, suggesting that mediation needs to feature higher on the peace research agenda. Although the number of publications, articles, books and datasets on the theme has increased dramatically in the past decades, there is today still no consensus on the optimal conditions for successful mediation. Let us specify some of the key issues that have not been addressed, together constituting a program for furthering mediation research. First, there is the question of the mediator’s mandate: what is the mediator to do? The literature has focused on the mandate being to reach a peace agreement, but we have empirically noted that this is a rare achievement. The mandate may also say something else, and there is likely to be a range of aims. For instance, an international organization may be satisfied if there is a channel of contact, hoping that it may at some point in the future be useful for ending a war. Human rights proponents may expect not just an end to the war but also trials for war crimes and more transparent political systems. The mandate is therefore likely to color the strategies applied by a mediator. Also, the goals of mediation may be part of the problem. For many mediators the important issue could be to end ongoing carnage, while others may emphasize long-term stability. Some results may, in fact, point to a clash between the humanitarian imperative to stop violence and the peace building approach for lasting humane conditions. The mandate also affects a second issue needing more study: the institutional support and resources available to the mediation effort. Mediators permanently in place rather than entering the scene at particular moments may be more effective. However, mediation often means an engagement with regional interests and global actors. What, then, are the particular assets a mediator brings to the process, both in terms of incentives and insights? Institutional aspects, and not only actual mediation practice, need more attention. We have furthermore observed the significance of other actors’ activity, be they additional mediators, spoilers or entrenched actors with their own interests. This has however not been central within mediation research, but it certainly should be, as this is increasingly the reality in which many mediators find themselves. In addition, parallel international actions may affect the negotiation process, for instance, uses of sanctions, peacekeeping, humanitarian assistance, peace building and even, possible military threats. These have not been regular elements in mediation data collections. However, combined international strategies may in fact be more effective than separate and isolated forms of action. An example is that mediation on issues such as humanitarian concerns is known to affect core issues in the conflict (Svensson/Wallensteen 2010). In particular, there is an urgent need to

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disaggregate mediation data. Mediation practice is often geared towards fairly short-term effects, but researchers have traditionally operated with notions such as years without war, peace spells and conflict months. Mediation research needs to collect increasingly more fine-grained data, like we have seen within research on violence during armed conflict e.g., UCDP-GED (Sundberg and Melander 2013). There are some moves in this direction (Gartner 2012) and some early attempts (Mooradian/Druckman 1999). What are the effects on mediation success, for instance, in the days immediately following a mediator proposition? Focusing attention on mediation events or mediation episodes may bring the field forward in a new way. In line with this, one may ask: which conflict elements does a mediator choose to emphasize and at what stage in the process? This relates to the question of sequencing mediation attempts and finding pathways that either lead to a step-by-step peace process or a bold peace conference approach. The datasets that already exist, are not sufficiently penetrating to respond to such concerns. In fact, even though the bargaining paradigm has dominated recent research, its proponents have not generated corresponding data on key aspects, such as degrees of the conflict parties’ commitment or access to information. The resort to case studies, which offers more detail, will, however, not lead to general conclusions of value for theory development as well as practical action. Thus, there is scope for considerable data development to empirically discover more general patterns. Also, we find that the field is exclusively oriented toward state-based armed conflicts, that is, conflicts where at least one of the parties is a government and where violence is used. However, there is a high number of non-state conflicts (Pettersson/Themnér 2012) and many conflicts with non-violent action also resulting in mediation. This provides for varying conditions and differential impact of the mediation efforts that may help us understand mediation. To this belongs the significance of external events, including natural disasters such as the Indian Ocean tsunami in 2004 (Kreutz 2012). Theoretical development in mediation studies has moved in stages, with a clear and present domination of bargaining theory. It has resulted in a number of inroads, not least bringing attention to the issue of selection effects. However, mediation research seems to remain remote from the world in which actual mediators find themselves. We therefore see a need for more bridge building between practitioners and researchers to make this research useful in a world which is still full of significant conflicts of different types. After all, this is the basic rationale for peace research in the first place: to contribute to change toward a peaceful world.

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Pettersson, Therése and Lotta Themnér (2012) States in Armed Conflict 2011. Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Report 99. Pevehouse, Jon C (2002) With a little help from my friends? Regional organizations and the consolidation of democracy. American Journal of Political Science 46(3): 611-626. Princen, Thomas (1992) Intermediaries in International Conflict. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University. Rauchhaus, Robert W (2006) Asymmetric information, mediation, and conflict management. World Politics 58(2): 207–241. Regan, Patrick M and Aysegul Aydin (2006) Diplomacy and other forms of intervention in civil wars. Journal of Conflict Resolution 50(5): 736–756. Regan, Patrick M and Allan C Stam (2000) In the nick of time: Conflict management, mediation timing, and the duration of interstate disputes. International Studies Quarterly 44(2): 239–260. Regan, Patrick M; Richard W Frank and Aysegul Aydin (2009) Diplomatic Interventions and Civil War: A New Dataset. Journal of Peace Research 46(1): 135–146. Savun, Burcu (2008) Information, bias, and mediation success. International Studies Quarterly 52: 25–47. Sisk, Timothy D (2009) International Mediation in Civil Wars: Bargaining with Bullets. London: Routledge. Smith, Alastair and Allan Stam (2003) Mediation and peacekeeping in a random walk model of civil and interstate war. International Studies Review 5(4): 115–135. Stedman, Stephen John (1996) Negotiation and mediation in internal conflict. In: Michael Edward Brown (ed) The International Dimension of Internal Conflict. Cambridge: MIT Press, 341–376. Sundberg, Ralph and Erik Melander (2013) Introducing the UCDP Georeferenced Event Dataset. Journal of Peace Research 50(4): 523-532. Svensson, Isak (2007) Bargaining, bias and peace brokers: How rebels commit to peace. Journal of Peace Research 44(2): 177–194. Svensson, Isak (2009) Who brings which peace? Biased versus neutral mediation and institutional peace arrangements in civil wars. Journal of Conflict Resolution 53(3): 446–469. Svensson, Isak and Mathilda Lindgren (2013) Peace from the inside: Exploring the role of the insider-partial mediators. International Interactions. 39(1):1–25. Svensson, Isak and Peter Wallensteen (2010) The Go-between: Jan Eliasson and the Styles of Mediation. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace. Themnér, Lotta and Peter Wallensteen (2013) Armed Conflicts 1946-2012, Journal of Peace Research 50 (4): 509-521. Touval, Saadia (1975) Biased intermediaries: Theoretical and historical considerations. The Jerusalem Journal of International Relations 1(1): 51-69. Touval, Saadia (1992) The superpowers as mediators. In: Jacob Bercovitch and Jeffrey Z Rubin (eds) Mediation in International Relations. New York: St. Martin's, 232–248. Touval, Saadia and I William Zartman (1985) Introduction: Mediation in theory. In: Saadia Touval and I William Zartman (eds) International Mediation in Theory and Practice. Boulder, CO: Westview. Touval, Saadia and I William Zartman (2001) International mediation in the post-cold war Era. In: Chester A Crocker, Fen Osler Hampson and Pamela Aall (eds) Turbulent Peace: The Challenges of Managing International Conflict. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace: 427–443. Wall, James A and Timothy C Dunne (2012) Mediation research: A current review. Negotiation Journal 28(2): 217–244. Wall, James A; John B Stark and Rhetta L Standifer (2001) Mediation: A current review and theory development. Journal of Conflict Resolution 45(3): 370–391. Wallensteen, Peter; Karl R DeRouen, Jacob Bercovitch and Frida Möller (2009) Democracy and mediation in territorial civil wars in Southeast Asia and the South Pacific. Asia Europe Journal 7(2): 241–264. Wehr, Paul (1979) Conflict regulation. Boulder, CO: Westview.

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Wehr, Paul and John Paul Lederach (1991) Mediating conflict in Central America. Journal of Peace Research 28(1): 85–98. Wilkenfeld, Jonathan, Kathleen J Young, David M Quinn and Victor Asal (2005) Mediating International Crises. New York: Routledge. Zartman, I William (1995) Dynamics and constraints in negotiations in internal conflicts. In: I William Zartman (ed) Elusive Peace: Negotiating an End to Civil Wars. Washington, DC: The Brooking Institution, 3–29. Zartman, I William and Saadia Touval (2007) International mediation. In: Chester A Crocker, Fen Osler Hampson and Pamela Aall (eds) Leashing the Dogs of War: Conflict Management in a Divided World. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace.

Chapter 11

Munich, Majors and Mediation Peter Wallensteen

Abstract In this 2016 essay Peter Wallensteen discusses why major powers have been reluctant to engage third parties in dealing with their mutual relations. It argues that negotiations in the aftermath of the Second World War suffer from the “Munich Syndrome:” The negative outcome of the deals with Hitler in 1938 made Western powers hesitant to conclude any agreements with totalitarian regimes. The chapter argues that today’s agreements are more professional and include verification in ways that makes comparisons with previous deals halting. Moving mediation away from improvisation into permanent institutions would further strengthen this option in conflict situations.

11.1

Challenges to Mediation

In spite of an increasing academic interest and popular belief, the political support for mediation in armed conflicts remains limited.1 It is an approach that is still underutilized and underestimated. Very few governments have instituted units for international mediation, conflict prevention, and conflict resolution in their ministries for foreign affairs or international development. Since 2006, the UN Secretariat has a small, but competent, unit for mediation support within its Department of Political Affairs. Regional organizations have increased their interest in the field. However, in relation to the great need of preventing limited conflicts from becoming armed confrontations and wars, this is still not sufficient. In 2014, there were forty armed conflicts going on, while there was a total of 259 since the end of the Second World War (Pettersson/Wallensteen 2015: 537). There appears to be a difference in comparison to the use of mediation and arbitration in international business transactions, for instance, where the Arbitration Institute of the Stockholm Chamber of Commerce is a central institution. The World Trade Organization also

This text was originally published as Wallensteen, Peter 2016. “Munich, Majors and Mediation,” in Ian Macduff (ed). Essays on Mediation. Dealing with Disputes in the 21st Century. AH Alphen aan den Rijn: Kluwer Law International, p. 81–89. Republished with permission.

1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_11

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has conflict resolution mechanisms that act independently of the governments. However, for the most serious conflicts, those that may escalate or already have escalated into armed confrontations, there is often a resort to ad hoc procedures and improvisations. There is no International Mediation Authority which parties in conflict can turn to. As the human suffering in wars is extensive and formative for a future that may replay historical grievances, this is an unsatisfactory state of affairs. In this short contribution, I would like to take up a two challenges to the international mediation field, particularly on its operational side. First, there is still a belief that negotiations do not work. This is the Munich syndrome that still colors many reactions to international agreements, such as the US discussions on the Iran nuclear deal in 2015. Second, there is a belief that mediation requires major power involvement. Finally, it is necessary to return to the question of institution building in the field of international negotiations and mediation.

11.2

Dealing with the Munich Syndrome

The negotiations between the four major power in September 1938 over the Czechoslovak crisis, which was created by Nazi Germany’s revisionist demands, belong to one of the ethically and strategically most challenging events in the history of peace negotiations. Two democratic countries, France and Britain, confronted two dictatorships, Germany and Italy, both known for aggressive actions, unilateralism, and militant rhetoric. The negotiations were located at the home turf of one of them, Munich in Germany. There was little transparency and little time to reflect. The outcome was a capitulation by the Western powers to the German demands and a complete discarding of the interest of an allied state, Czechoslovakia. In return, the British Premier, Mr. Chamberlain, brought home a piece of paper that he proudly waved at the London airport. To the jubilant crowds outside his office at 10 Downing Street he said, “I believe this is peace for our time. Go home and get a nice quiet sleep.” The paper had the signatures of Mr. Chamberlain and “Herr Hitler”. It said that the two leaders were “determined” to continue their efforts to “remove possible sources of difference and thus to contribute to ensure the peace of Europe”. It certainly was not more than a piece of paper, with no substance, no legal status, and no foundation in the reality of the time. Hitler was determined to take as much territory as possible; Chamberlain knew that Britain did not, at this time, have enough military resources to prevent this. The specter of this “agreement” continues to haunt negotiators. Thus, the treaties that have been worked out in the past sixty years, for instance, on nuclear arms control between the US and the Soviet Union/Russia, have elaborate clauses on implementation and verification. The same is true for the Iran nuclear deal of 2015 (which is 159 pages long). Thus, negotiations today are done in a more professional way than in 1938 and they are based on the political, strategic, and economic realities. Even the psychology around modern deal making is different with more

11.2

Dealing with the Munich Syndrome

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transparency and scrutiny before signatures are put on the documents. And indeed, they mostly take place at locations that are safer, less intimidating, and more neutral than was the case with the talks in Munich. The use of mediators, furthermore, contributes to this. The record of peace agreements in the armed conflicts since the end of the Cold War is impressive: The Uppsala Conflict Data Program records 194 such agreements, and they have been instrumental in ending fifty-five armed conflicts (Wallensteen 2015). Furthermore, the study of their implementation has become a new field of inquiry (Joshi/Darby 2013; Joshi et al. 2015). The Munich agreement deserved the political and professional critique it got, but the lessons have been learned. The Munich Syndrome need no longer impede the ability to negotiate or mediate.

11.3

Dealing with the Major Powers

Largely the academic community and political decision-makers alike see mediation as an impartial and neutral pursuit to peacefully assist warring parties in reaching an end to a serious conflict (Wallensteen/Svensson 2014). At the same time, media reporting has a tendency to emphasize the role of major powers, the USA in particular, but also the UK, France and Russia, as significant actors in conflicts around the world with an implied expectation that they are equally or more important than the warring actor themselves. In terms of the definition of mediation, however, it can be asked whether they are as impartial and neutral as would be expected. On the contrary, they may bring biases into their efforts. Sometimes, however, this may also result in ending the war (Svensson 2015). Certainly, major states are involved, directly or indirectly, in a large number of all on-going conflicts where there are peace processes (Svensson/Oken 2015: 76). It connects to their global or regional reach, which of course surpasses that of other states. It also means an asymmetrical form of conflict resolution; one may even call it “hegemonic mediation”, pointing to the ever-present danger that the result is not only “good” for the parties but also for the hegemons (Croicu et al. 2013). It contrasts the more symmetric, peer-to-peer mediation typical for regional and international organizations. Furthermore, recent data demonstrates that these organizations are involved to the same degree as the major powers (Svensson/Oken 2015: 76). The resort to international organizations is a way for local actors and warring parties to avoid some of the biases that are inherent in major power mediation. It is the warring parties that appoint or accept mediators, and they have a choice. This is true, at least theoretically. Informally, however, they are likely to be approached by the major powers as well as other actors, to initiate a peace process. It may, indeed, be in the interest of the major powers. The same recent data demonstrates, however, that only a small part of all on-going conflicts actually have mediators (Svensson/Oken 2015: 68) and, more surprising, that the numbers have not increased over the past 25 years. There is certainly more than during the Cold War. Still the numbers that were

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achieved in the 1990s appear not to have increased in the 2000s. A reason may be that many conflicts are seen as internal and concern intra-state regional and/or ethnic issues. Governments are often reluctant to invite mediators for such conflicts and instead prefer to regard them as “internal affairs.” However, at the same time the number of internationalized internal conflicts has increased, demonstrating that internal conflict also attracts the interest of other states (Pettersson/Wallensteen 2015). The lack of increased mediation efforts implies that negotiations have become more difficult and questioned. In an era focusing on defeating terrorism, the space for dialogue may have been reduced as some conflicts are seen as non-negotiable. Still we should recall that mediation is often found in the most difficult internationalized conflicts and such conflicts have often engaged different sectors of the international community. Negotiations have been protracted with repeated failures, relapse into fighting and again a return to negotiations. There is a phenomenon of recurrent negotiations, gradually developing from previous experiences. There is less data on this but many examples. A typical case may be the war in Sudan, where the comprehensive peace agreement in 2006 was preceded by a number of agreements that were overturned, until the “final” agreement in 2006. And, indeed, South Sudan displays a similar pattern in the civil war that started in 2013. The parts of the international community engaged in mediation has been highly committed, but also highly frustrated. In the years 2014–15, several peace processes seemed promising, notably those in Yemen and Libya, only to experience severe setbacks and a return to war in more complicated configurations than before (particularly in Yemen). Even more worrying has been the lack of progress for mediation in the Syrian conflict. In several of the highly destructive conflicts in the Middle East, the UN has played a role, whereas in the Gaza conflict of 2014 the Egyptian military government found itself in such a third party role between Hamas and the Israeli government. This is to say that each conflict finds its own mediator. It will depend on the parties and their supporters who is acceptable as a third party and who is not. Although smaller countries, notably three Nordic countries, have a reputation of supporting mediation and other forms of peace diplomacy (Eriksson 2015), the parties may chose differently. Often neighbors are preferred (Egypt in the case of Gaza), or sub-regional bodies (IGAD in the case of South Sudan). Certainly, the major powers follow closely what is taking place, but it is still interesting that in many of these conflicts they have preferred to play a different role. Often officially supporting the mediation efforts while at the same time making negotiations more difficult by supporting various parties politically, economically and/or militarily. International organizations and small states seldom have such double or triple agendas. In fact, whether asymmetric or symmetric, their negotiations succeed to reduce violence to an equal degree (Cruicu et al. 2013). There is nothing to say that hegemons are more successful in mediation than regional or international bodies. We find a record of major powers being involved in negotiating conflicts in the Global South, but how do they deal with conflicts among each other (Wallensteen

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1991)? Do they set an example for the utility of mediation, also by using it for their own disputes? It is remarkable to see that there are very few instances of third parties involved in their mutual dealings. Nuclear arms control negotiations have almost entirely been the prerogatives of the two strongest nuclear countries. Only for issues where others may be needed they have also been parties to the talks, notably for the comprehensive test ban treaty (CTBT) or the nuclear non-proliferation treaty (NPT). One could say that matters of nuclear non-proliferation and counter-terrorism have involved a remarkable wide collective cooperation, in line with the ideas of “collective security” that constitute the basis for the UN. However, matters of actual disarmament of the arsenals in the hands of the nuclear weapons states have been reserved for them, not involving “outsiders.” Accordingly, ambitions of the 1960s and 1970s for general disarmament have disappeared from the top of the political agenda, and, in line with this, also a representative forum where these issues could be raised. The NPT review conferences (every fifth year) are almost the only such opportunity. Can one say that the lack of third party participation in these talks also means that there is less urgency of actually arriving at a reduction? The question is legitimate. With respect to armed conflicts, the 1990s saw few confrontations between major powers. Those that occurred dealt with the crises over Yugoslavia and Kosovo. The 2000s could add disagreements over Georgian territories, South Ossetia and Abkhazia. Still, negotiations appeared possible, and there is even a forum remaining for discussions on Georgia, the so-called Geneva Talks. The 2010s have seen increasing difficulties. There has been agreement on admission of OSCE monitoring of cease-fires in Ukraine, as well as on the removal of chemical weapons and humanitarian access with respect to Syria. However, the direct relations between the US and Russia have become tense, and rhetoric increasingly vicious. The progress towards ending the conflicts over Syria and Ukraine (including Crimea) has been minimal. The case of Ukraine (apart from the Crimea issue) illustrates some of these shortcomings. There are now procedures in place, originating from a meeting in Normandy in June 2014, and referred to as the “Normandy format” or group. Its main result is the Minsk II agreement of February 2015. It was negotiated between Russia, France, Germany, and Ukraine, i.e. the countries constituting the Normandy format, with the Belarus leader working as a go-between, but with an unclear role, apart from hosting the venue for the talks. OSCE has been tasked with monitoring the implementation of the cease-fire provisions and has set up a Special Monitoring Mission. Possibly, it could be argued that Germany and France play a mediating role between Russia and Ukraine. There are reports of considerable phone diplomacy among these leaders. Interestingly, the US is not party to the talks. The handling of the Ukraine crisis may suggest a new way of dealing with conflicts also directly between major powers. Rather than having specially appointed third parties, there could be constellations of states that in fact take such a role. The real mediator might be the Germany Chancellor Angela Merkel, but she avoids standing out from the group or take such a role officially. In effect, however, the Normandy format is an improvisation. A meeting provided an opportunity that

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was grasped. That seems to be a fairly unsatisfactory way of dealing with international crises. The major powers, in other words, do not set a good example for mediation.

11.4

A Final Note on Institution Building

We have noted the lack of institutions for mediation. There is considerable improvisation, particularly when dealing with mediation in armed conflicts. Professionally and politically, lessons have been learned from the calamities of the 1930s. There is a lack of institutional follow up. There is almost an institutional irony: those containing conflict get the largest resources and those trying to solve them end up short. The Department of Peace Keeping Operations (DPKO) is one of the biggest in the UN Secretariat. The unit dealing with sanctions has gradually received more resources as part of the sanctions reform process. The mediation support unit (housed within the Department of Political Affairs) however is largely funded from voluntary contributions and remains limited. This projects an image of the international community dealing with international conflicts in an inversed order: first manage them – then solve them. There should be reasons for reversing the resource allocation: first solve the conflict and in doing that, find the resources to keep the parties in line with the agreement (sanctions) and maintain their security (peacekeeping). Still, there is some headway in dealing with mediation in international bodies, particularly following the initiative by Finland and Turkey, which includes the creation of the Friends of Mediation group within the UN in 2010. The UN Secretary-General has given particular attention to the issue of mediation, as has the UN General Assembly. These steps are important in so far that it results in a general awareness that there are alternative courses of action for dealing with conflicts. It should also bring more resources to the field. Particularly important is that similar initiatives are emerging on regional levels. This may appear as a challenge to the UN, but in fact operate as a complement. The techniques are similar as are the legal frameworks and normative basis (Wallensteen/Bjurner 2015). 2015 is the first year of operations for the European Institute of Peace (EIP) with a mandate clearly focusing mediation. It is a governmental body, formally outside the EU structure, and thus an addition to the European External Action Service (EEAS). Similarly there is the ASEAN Institute for Peace and Reconciliation (AIPR). The African Union has a unique mediation institution, the Panel of the Wise (Nathan 2016). This is parallel to the operational development, where in particular AU has a number of special envoys for particular conflict settings. It is a testimony to the need for mediation, and thus also for a strong institutional backing for the conduct of negotiations. The resources given to these institutions, furthermore, is an indicator of the support given by the member-states to the mediation efforts. This provides a way of measuring the seriousness of these ambitions.

11.4

A Final Note on Institution Building

235

The importance of institution building is that it reduces the need for improvisation and makes it possible to go straight to the issues. Institutions have ready procedure that can be applied in different context, without having to invent new ones. In addition, we can see that historically institutions have a similar record of achievement as do major powers. They have the advantage, however, of reducing the direct impact of major powers on outcomes. Certainly, the power distribution will always affect the outcomes. But institutions provide a great chance that the results will be equitable, consonant with norms, and thus more legitimate and lasting.

References Croicu, Mihai, Erik Melander, Marcus Nilsson and Peter Wallensteen 2013, Mediation and Violence: Searching for third party intervention that matters, Paper to the 48th Annual Convention of the International Studies Association (San Francisco April 2013). Eriksson, Jacob 2015. Small-State Mediation in International Conflicts. Diplomacy and Negotiation in Israel-Palestine. I.B.Tauris. Joshi, Madhav and John Darby 2013. Introducing the Peace Accords Matrix (PAM): A database of comprehensive peace agreements and their implementation, 1989–2007, Peacebuilding, 1 (2): 256. Joshi, Madhav, Jason Michael Quinn and Patrick M. Regan 2015., Annualized implementation data on comprehensive peace accords, 1989–2012, Journal of Peace Research 51 (4): 551. Nathan, Nathan 2016 The challenges facing mediation in Africa, Africa Meditators’ Retreat, The Oslo Forum Network of Mediators. Pettersson, Therése and Peter Wallensteen 2015, “Armed Conflicts, 1946-2014,” Journal of Peace Research 52(4): 536. Svensson, Isak 2015, International Mediation Bias and Peacemaking: Taking sides in civil wars, London: Routledge. Svensson, Isak and Monica Onken 2015. Global trends of peace negotiations and conflict mediation, 65-79 in Michèle Roth, Cornelia Ulbert and Tobias Debiel (eds.) Global Trends 2015. Prospects for World Society, www.globale-trends.de/home.html (accessed 22 Apr. 2016). Wallensteen, Peter 1991. “Is There a Role for Third Parties in the Prevention of Nuclear War?,” 193-253, in Paul Stern, ed., Society, Behavior and Nuclear War, Volume II, New York, NY: Oxford University Press 1991. Wallensteen, Peter 2015. Understanding Conflict Resolution, 4th ed., London: Sage. Wallensteen, Peter and Isak Svensson 2014, Talking peace: International mediation in armed conflicts, Journal of Peace Research 51(2): 315. Chapter 10 in this volume. Wallensteen, Peter and Anders Bjurner 2015. Regional Organizations in Peacemaking. Challengers to the UN? London: Routledge.

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Electronic Resources Ben Johnson, World War 2 Chronology, Historic UK, https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/ HistoryofBritain/world-war-2-chronology/ (accessed 22 Apr. 2016). Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe, OSCE Special Monitoring Mission to the Ukraine, https://www.osce.org/ukraine-smm (accessed 22 Apr. 2016). University of Notre Dame, Peace Accords Matrix,https://peaceaccords.nd.edu (accessed 22 Apr. 2016). United Nations, Peace Agreement Database, https://peacemaker.un.org (accessed 22 Apr. 2016). Uppsala Conflict Data Program, www.ucdp.uu.se (accessed 22 Apr. 2016).

D

Organizing the World

Speaking to the UN Security Council at its retreat, Dag Hammarskjöld’s Backåkra, Sweden, April 2018. From left Fabrizio Hochshild-Drummond, SG’s Office; The UN Secretary-General António Guterres; Sweden’s Prime Minster Stefan Löfvén; Gustavo Meza-Cuadra, Peru; and Karen Pierce, UK. Photo: From the author’s personal photo collection

Chapter 12

Representing the World: A Security Council for the 21st Century Peter Wallensteen

Abstract An element in the ending of the Cold War was the activation of the UN system in general and the UN Security Council in particular. The shift is documented in this chapter from 1994. It also highlighted the strong role of the five permanent members in the Council. It results in a discussion on the Council’s legitimacy: Does it really represent “the world”? In this article, Peter Wallensteen outlines possible reforms of the Council that would safeguard some of the interest of the major powers but also give a stronger role to the rest of the world, without jeopardizing the effectiveness in reaching decisions.

12.1

An Active Security Council

Since the end of the Cold War, the UN Security Council has become increasingly active in international conflicts and their solution.1 This is the conventional wisdom supported by the empirical evidence of late. We may note that the Security Council has • taken action in more armed conflicts, in absolute numbers • taken action in a higher share of all on-going armed conflicts • made more decisions per month and week

1

This text is based on a continuing study of the role of the Security Council in conflict resolution. This particular version has benefited from comments by Björn Holmberg and Kjell-Åke Nordquist at Uppsala University; and from presentations at GPACS, University of California, Irvine; the UN Association in Long Beach, California; and the Joan B. Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies, University of Notre Dame. The responsibility for the views expressed rests entirely with the author. This text is republished from Wallensteen, Peter 1994. “Representing the World. A Security Council for the 21st Century, “ Security Dialogue Vol. 25 (1): 63–75. Republished with permission. © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_12

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• made more mandatory decisions according to Chapter VII • sent out more peace-keeping operations.2 This means that by 1994 the Security Council had in areas of international peace and security become a permanently meeting body, where decisions were often made behind closed doors. It had also become a more important decision-making body than any other organ of the UN or any other international body dealing with international security. NATO lacked universal representation; the CSCE had at its disposal a lesser range of possible actions; and the EU/WEU showed less consensus on important security issues.3 This impressive change did not, however, make the Security Council more important than major-power governments. The administrations in the USA, the UK and France remained central authorities. Security Council decisions also required the support of the Russian Federation and the People’s Republic of China.4 The Security Council was probably involved in fewer conflicts than the USA, the UK and France individually. Its permanent members also operated through extensive bilateral dealings and separate international organizations (e.g. OAS, the Commonwealth, the European Union, the CIS). All five powers continued to take unilateral actions without consulting with the others or the UN in all steps (e.g. the USA in Panama, Russia in Georgia and China in Tibet).5

12.2

Legitimacy and Representation

While the increased activity of the Security Council has been generally applauded, a debate has emerged on aspects of its work. One question centers on its achievements: have its actions led to the result anticipated by the decision-makers, or have 2

See A. Aust, The Procedure and Practice of the Security Council Today, in The Development of the Role of the Security Council. Workshop 1992, The Hague Academy of International Law (Martinus Nijhoff: Dordrecht, 1993), pp. 365–374; Birger Heldt, ed., States in Armed Conflict 1990–91 (Uppsala: Department of Peace and Conflict Research, 1992); Birger Heldt, Peter Wallensteen, Erik Melander and Kjell-Åke Nordquist, ‘Major Armed Conflicts in 1992’, SIPRI Yearbook 1993 (Oxford University Press, 1993); Karin Lindgren, States in Armed Conflict 1989 (Uppsala: Department of Peace and Conflict Research, 1993); J. David Singer, ‘Peace in the Global System: Displacement, Interregnum, or Transformation?’ in Charles W. Kegley, Jr., ed., The Long Postwar Peace. Contending Explanations and Projections (New York: Harper Collins, 1991), pp. 56–84; Peter Wallensteen, The Security Council in Armed Conflicts, 1986–1991 in Birger Heldt, States in Armed Conflict 1990–91, pp. 11–27; and Peter Wallensteen, ‘UN Peacekeeping Interventions in Conflict Situations’, 43rd Pugwash Conference, Stockholm, 9–15 June 1993. 3 Another important group is G-7, which brings together the world’s strongest economic states. It does not deal directly with military security although it has made statements on foreign policy issues. G-7 does not have a permanent secretariat of its own. 4 See A. Aust, The Procedure and Practice of the Security Council Today. 5 This is not to say that the UN is always present where it might be expected to be. For instance, the UN played no role in the talks leading to the interim agreements between Israel and PLO on 13 September 1993.

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alternative courses of actions been available? Secretary-General Boutros-Ghali has raised these issues, with some proposals.6 Another question is the issue of legitimacy. Has the authority of the UN generally been accepted, or has it been dependent on particular powers? Has the UN treated similar conflicts in a comparable way? For instance, Amer has showed how interventions were handled in very different ways during the 1980s. Gott concludes that the UN has been an ‘intrinsically conservative institution’.7 In this article, the question of legitimacy is of central concern. Legitimacy can be seen as a lubricant of a system. It means that the members, the subjects of decisions, follow the decisions as they are made in accordance with established practices and by recognized authorities. Decisions made under legitimate authority, in other words, do not necessarily have to be forced upon the members or subjects. They are obeyed because they are legitimate, even though they may run counter to individual preferences. This is how democratic societies operate internally. In a membercontrolled organization, this is also what would be expected. We might also postulate a connection between achievements and legitimacy. Legitimate decisions will probably be subject to less resistance, as there will be more global support for them as well as more local hesitation to oppose them. Thus, we need to ask: are the Security Council decisions made in ways which have general support of the international community for whom the UN speaks? The near-unanimous nature of many of its decisions would imply this. Since May 1990 there has only been one veto cast (Russia in May 1993 over the financing of peace-keeping operations). There are cases of abstentions and negative votes by non-permanent members. Still, the ability to make decisions shows that there has been a high degree of agreement over the course of action in the international community. The actions taken have been what the constituent members of the world community have been willing to accept. Although there has been disagreement it has not been so serious as to polarize or impede decision-making in the Security Council. Nevertheless, concern has been expressed, for instance in the general debates in the General Assembly as well as in the special enquiry made by the SecretaryGeneral to the member-states, over the powers given to the permanent members of the Security Council.8 It is argued that countries from one part of the world have a

6

See Boutros Boutros-Ghali, An Agenda for Peace (New York: United Nations, 1992). For recent research on the conditions for durable peace see Kjell-Åke Nordquist, Peace after War. On Conditions for Durable Inter-state Boundary Agreements (Uppsala: Department of Peace and Conflict Research, 1992). 7 See Ramses Amer, The United Nations and Foreign Military Intervention. A Comparative Study of the Application of the Charter (Uppsala: Department of Peace and Conflict Research, 1992) and Richard Gott, The UN cannot be reformed, Third World Resurgence, 1992, no. 32, pp. 30–32. 8 The impression is that member-states implement the mandatory decisions. With respect to sanctions, however, there are reported loopholes, and defection might increase with the increasing number of mandatory resolutions, as surveillance becomes more demanding and is, in fact, left to the member-states themselves.

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stronger voice than the rest, and that moreover this is a minority of the world’s population. In other words, UN authority may be challenged along a North-South dichotomy, a global geographical dimension. Behind this is an idea that legitimacy is dependent on a reasonable geographical or ‘geo-demographic’ distribution of influence. Although this is by no means clear from the record, this challenge assumes that Security Council members tend to act as representatives of particular regions. The argument could be bolstered by reference to the principle used in domestic affairs of states. Areas with the largest population also have sizeable representation. On the other hand, it is equally common for areas with less population to be, in fact, over-represented. Skewed distributions still can be legitimate. All the same, this challenge makes the geographical distribution of seats in the Security Council a major issue. The present non-permanent seats are the only ones that are elected. They are distributed in a formula which gives 20% of the seats to Western Europe and Other States (apart from Western Europe also including North America, Australia, New Zealand, what is known as the WEOS group), 10% to Eastern Europe, 50% to Africa and Asia and 20% to South America. The distribution is somewhat favorable to Western and Eastern Europe, compared to a strict demographic representation, but still obviously within the confines of what is regarded as legitimate.9 The issue becomes more complicated with regard to the permanent seats. Only one of these belongs to a Third World country, China, with WEOS taking 60% and Eastern Europe 20% of the seats. This becomes a strong argument against the present composition of the permanent seats. The more powerful positions, it could be argued, should correspond more closely to ‘equal’ representation. According to what formula should such an ‘equal’ distribution be designed? Should one, for instance, use the present regional distribution for the full Security Council as the point of the departure (i. e. giving 33% of all seats to the WEOS group)? Probably the political debate will not be based on such formulas. Rather it will concentrate on the interests of particular countries. In the end, however, the resulting distribution will be important for general acceptance of constitutional changes. This is evident when we note another angle in the debate: the costs of the UN operations, especially the expenditures for peacekeeping activity. As Table 12.1 makes clear, some countries are assessed more for peacekeeping than others, even more than certain permanent members. This applies in particular to Germany and Japan. Table 12.1 shows that relatively few countries support UN peacekeeping by more than one tenth of 1% of their defense budgets. These figures are from 1991, and matters may have changed somewhat. For instance, the total budget for peacekeeping in 1993 was more than USD 2.5 billion. The overall picture, however, remains the same. For most countries UN peacekeeping was still a minor concern compared to national defense. In absolute figures, however, Germany and

9

The number of non-permanent seats has been changed as the General Assembly grew in numbers. In 1966 the Security Council was enlarged to its present 15 seats; see Sydney D. Bailey, The Procedure of the UN Security Council (Oxford: Clarendon Press, Second edition, 1988).

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Legitimacy and Representation

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Table 12.1 UN Peacekeeping Assessments, National Military Expenditures and Ratio. Selected countries 1991. Million USD. Permanent members in italics. Source: Financing an Effective United Nations. A Report of the Independent Advisory Group on UN Financing. Co-chairmen: Shijuro Ogata and Paul Volcker (New York: Ford Foundation, 1993) Table V, p. 31 Country

Peace-keeping assessment

Military spending

Ratio

USA Russia Japan Germany France UK Italy Canada Sweden China South Korea India Nigeria Pakistan World total

151.0 60.3 55.9 46.0 37.8 29.4 19.6 15.2 5.9 4.8 0.7 0.4 0.2 0.06 491.0

304,500 224,100 32,100 39,900 41,400 42,300 23,600 12,100 5,500 12,000 9,800 7,200 234 2,800 921,500

1:2,016 1:3,714 1:574 1:868 1:1,096 1:1,441 1:1,204 1:798 1:926 1: 2,520 1:14,463 1:19,816 1:1,191 1: 47,522 1:1,877

Japan both contributed more than China, UK and France. China was also surpassed by countries such as Italy, Canada and Sweden. This raises the issue of ‘financial’ representation. There is a common understanding, dating back to the American Revolution, of ‘no taxation without representation’. Germany and Japan have strong cases for seats as permanent members. They pay more than could be expected but have less formal influence. The argument could be made that also ‘faithful’ contributors could demand more influence. Countries giving a higher ratio of their ‘security investments’ to the UN could demand special treatment. Japan and Germany would again qualify, but so would other countries which in relative terms give the organization more financial support than the present permanent members (e. g. Canada and Nigeria). It is obvious that Germany and Japan have stronger cases than others, not least due to their political stability, democratic constitutions, close cooperation with the USA and economic significance in general. The primary objection to such a criterion for representation derives from the concern with the geo-demographic distribution. Germany and Japan would both be seen to strengthen the position of the richer part of the world in the Security Council. On these grounds, there might be resistance. However, it could also be said that their permanent seats would make the Security Council reflect more closely economic power in the world. The Security Council would become parallel to the Group of Seven (G-7), or perhaps even make G-7 obsolete. In other words, the validity of a criterion such as financial representation

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can be debated. On the positive side, it introduces economic significance as an additional consideration to the customary emphasis on military might. To arrive at the same time at an acceptable geographical distribution and a form of economic representation for the Security Council raises the issue of the total number of seats. Within the present framework of 15 members, the two principles would clash: seats for Germany and Japan could be made only at the expense of other seats, possibly threatening a reduction of seats available to Third World countries. The logical conclusion is to enlarge the Security Council. Also this option has some limits, however. It is commonly assumed that any institution will be more effective (i. e. swifter) in decision-making if it can remain small. A Security Council paralyzed by lengthy debates and considerable and open in-fighting will make for slower action, with impact on its global standing. The size has to be limited. Thus, there are three criteria for an effective and legitimate Security Council: It would have to be small in size; have a reasonable geographical composition, giving room for larger countries, without eliminating powerful ones; and have a degree of economic representation. To solve this quandary we will have to consider the present setting of the Security Council. Ten seats are filled in two-year terms through elections by the General Assembly. An agreed regional distribution is used, as mentioned previously. Five seats, i.e. one third of the Security Council, are permanent, and with distinct advantages. This permanent membership involves two aspects. First, it means that some members of the most powerful organ are not elected by the members of the organization which they are set to lead. In terms of responsibility, the leadership of the permanent members is accountable to their own populations, not to the organization as such. For the permanent members this provides an independence of action and freedom from maneuvering in the General Assembly. It runs counter, however, to normal democratic procedures for free associations. This has implications for legitimacy and effectiveness of the decisions of the organization. Secondly, there is the right of veto which is attached to the permanent membership: i.e. that only decisions which are not actively opposed by one of the permanent members can be made by the organization. Together these two aspects give the permanent members a strong influence over the decisions of the Security Council. The Secretary General, for instance, is elected for five years and participates in the deliberations of the Council, without voting rights. The post does not represent any particular grouping, although all holders have so far come from other than permanent members.10

10 Small countries may, as former UN Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjöld argued, have a greater need of the UN, as major powers will always be able to fend for themselves. Thus, the Secretary-General could be seen as a channel of influence for smaller countries. However, the Secretary-General is bound by the decisions of the Security Council. A hitherto unexplored idea is to make the Secretary-General an independent member of the Security Council with the right to vote, on an equal level with states. This would be parallel to the way Chief Executive Officers of major corporations are sometimes included on the boards of their companies.

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Legitimacy and Representation

245

The considerations behind these arrangements reflected the realities of the situation in 1945: the main victors of World War II constructed the new organization. It also rested on the experiences of the League of Nations. The possibility that decisions could be made against a strong member would have meant that the organization could be used in a conflict between major powers. In such a confrontation a big power might (threaten to) leave the organization. This experience is still relevant. The strength of the United Nations depends on the power that the permanent members are willing to give to the organization. The UN does not command forces or finances of its own. The compulsory and voluntary contributions of its member-states determine its military strategy and overall economy. Thus, there has to be consonance between the real distribution of power in the world and influence inside the United Nations in order for the organization to be operative. At the same time, however, its legitimacy rests on the ability of the weaker states to exert influence. This pressures the organization to become more representative, geographically as well as economically, without losing its ability to make decisions. This is the delicate balancing act that always has to be upheld when considering constitutional issues of the UN.

12.3

Senatorial Members and Qualified Majority

Are there other ways to handle the delicate balancing act than those developed and agreed in San Francisco in 1945? First, let us consider the permanent membership. There is a demand from states to become permanent members for varying reasons. Different schemes are possible for solving this problem. One which is gaining support has already been indicated: to increase the number of permanent members. Germany and Japan are candidates, but among public proposals also Italy and India have been mentioned. It is not far-fetched to assume that Nigeria and Brazil would aspire to such seats. A Security Council with another two to five permanent members would also have to consider adjusting the decision rules. It has been suggested that new permanent members would enter without veto powers. The Security Council would, thus, consist of three types of members: five permanent ones with veto, two to five permanent members without a veto and ten (or more? or less?) non-permanent members without individual veto.11 In this way, economic and geographical representation could be maintained, the Council would still be reasonably small (circa 17–20 members), and the present permanent members would remain. Such a scheme has considerable political attraction. For the sake of the argument, it is interesting to explore a move in the opposite direction. By making all members of the Security Council equal on the model of the present non-permanent members – i. e. all Council members would be elected for two years by the General Assembly – a complete and radical reform of 11

Logically, we would expect also a category of non-permanent members with veto rights.

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representation would be achieved. This would meet the demands for geographical representation, if the formula for the present distribution of non-permanent members were retained. On the other hand, this reform would not address the needs of the delicate balancing act we just identified. This proposal does not consider the distribution of power, and might not become accepted. If somehow forced on the organization, it might lead to withdrawal by powerful states. What would be a third reform alternative which could meet the need for the delicate balancing act? One possibility is to convert the permanent seats into six-year mandates, on the model of many domestic constitutions (e. g. the US Congress). This would mean the creation of a set of senatorial positions. Such a membership would outlast the normal reign of most governments (where electoral mandates constitutionally mostly last for three to five years). The principle of elections to the highest organ would at the same time be instituted and strengthened. It would give Japan and Germany a chance of becoming senatorial members, as could India, Brazil or Nigeria. If this were combined with a certain enlargement of the Security Council, the proposal might become politically more acceptable. If the Security Council were increased from the present 15 to 18, 21 or 24 members, while retaining one third of the seats for more privileged positions, the more powerful seats would increase from the present 5 (today’s permanent seats) to 6, 7 or 8 seats. Potentially this would allow for the inclusion of present permanent members as well as present candidates, but now as ‘senators’. The advantage in this reform would be to bring home the principle of accountability of the most important members to the main body of the organization. Furthermore, as the basic principle of this proposal is one of unrestrained elections, countries could be re-elected. Let us explore this possibility one step further. As already indicated, the other aspect of the present permanent seats is the possibility to veto particular decisions. If the number of privileged seats were increased, as envisioned in the first reform proposal, this would also mean increasing the number of conflicts which might remain outside the reach of the organization. Seven to ten powerful states are likely to be involved in a great number of conflicts in the world, and would presumably prefer to direct the Security Council in accordance with their own interests. This could mean either to keep the UN out – or call it in, but on their terms. This would be a most unsatisfactory form of ensuring international peace and security. This is an important drawback with the first reform proposal, although it avoids giving veto rights to the new permanent members. Their significance could still have a restraining impact of the activity of the organization. Also in the third proposal this element is there: The enlargement of senatorial seats would threaten, paradoxically, to make the UN less capable of acting, by reducing the agenda of actions.12 The logical conclusion is that it is not appropriate to retain the veto, when extending the permanent membership or when creating senatorial seats. Instead, it

12

This conclusion builds on the record of UN inability to deal with central Cold War issues or matters close to particular permanent members.

12.3

Senatorial Members and Qualified Majority

247

would be preferable to institute a normal constitutional rule: serious decisions require a qualified majority. If a rule specifying that actions under Chapter VII of the Charter require the consent of three-quarters of the Security Council membership, the veto of an individual member would disappear, but it would be replaced with a collective veto. A minimum of one quarter of the Security Council membership would be able to block a decision. In a Security Council of 15 members, 4 could prevent actions; if the total were 18, 21 or 24 it would require 5, 6 and 6 respectively, with rounding off rules. If the blocking minority is defined as the share of the full membership, whether all members are present or not at a particular meeting, this rule becomes predictable and obvious. What would be the effects of such reforms on the UN Security Council? Table 12.2 spells out some implications, primarily in geopolitical terms. It specifies the likely composition in terms of regional distribution with the introduction of senatorial seats replacing permanent seats. For comparison, the distribution of the present Security Council is included. It should be recalled that this proposal does not include a change in the voting rules. Thus election to a seat requires a 2/3 majority among all voting members of the General Assembly, as is currently the case for non-permanent membership. The regional groups, the formulas as well as their application are likely to be a subject of discussion in case the proposed reforms are considered. The power of the stronger is assumed to be reflected in the present formulas, and consequently they constitute the point of departure. Even so, the formulas cannot be applied strictly, as there will be difficulties in determining how to approximate numbers, etc. Table 12.2 is a way to begin a discussion. The first column in Table 12.2 shows the present composition of the Security Council, when permanent members are distributed to relevant regional groupings. The strength of the WEOS group is quite obvious: It has three out of five permanent seats (i.e. 60%) and two of the non-permanent seats (i.e. 20%): this is five out of fifteen or 33% of all seats. The second column shows the formulas that can be derived from the present composition of the Security Council. For the permanent (i.e. proposed senatorial) seats the composition of today’s full Council is used, whereas present practice for non-permanent seats is retained. The third column shows the impact of introducing elected senatorial seats according to the derived formula for a Security Council of the present size, that is fifteen members. The Western European grouping would have one seat less, and that seat would go to Africa-Asia. This North-West versus South-East dimension comes clearly out in many reform proposals. It is interesting to compare this with the first scheme outlined above, assuming it would mean that ten permanent seats were created from a body of twenty seats. The WEOS group would then have four permanent members (USA, UK, France, Germany), i.e. 40%, proportionally less than today. If Japan, one additional Asian country and one African country were to be added to the permanent seats, the share of Africa-Asia would rise to 40 %. Also in this scenario WEOS yields relative weight to Africa-Asia.

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Table 12.2 Geographical Composition of the Security Council (SC) Present SC

Derived formula

Present SC with formula

Reform proposal

Reform proposal

Reform proposal

Total number 15 % 15 18 21 24 Permanent/Senatorial 5 99 5 6 7 8 seats (33 % of all seats) For W. Europe and 3 33 2 2 2 3 Others (= P1, P2, P3) For E. Europe (= P4) 1 13 1 1 1 1 For Africa/Asia (= P5) 1 40 2 2 3 3 For S. America 0 13 0 1 1 1 Non-permanent/ 10 100 10 12 14 16 Non-senatorial seats (66 % of all seats) For W. Europe and 2 20 2 3 3 3 Others For E. Europe 1 10 1 1 1 2 For Africa/Asia 5 50 5 6 7 8 S. America 2 20 2 2 3 3 Note Formula for regional distribution of senatorial seats is derived from the composition of the present full Security Council, with minor adjustments. Permanent members are distributed according to regional memberships. Pl = USA, P2 = UK, P3 = France, P4 = Russia, P5 = China. Formula for regional distribution of non-permanent/non-senatorial seats is the one in use today: Western European and other states 20%, Eastern Europe 10%, Africa-Asia 50%, South America 20%

The following three columns of Table 12.2 show the possible composition of a differently enlarged Security Council. In all scenarios, the Africa-Asia group emerges as the most numerous one. This is, as we have just seen, also a likely outcome of other proposals under consideration. It should be noted that regional concerns impact on the election chances of present permanent members. Only in the case of a 24-member Security Council would all present permanent members have the possibility of being elected senatorial members. With the proposed reforms of Table 12.2, Germany would have to compete with major European countries to get a senatorial seat. Japan, on the other hand, would have a good chance of acquiring one of Africa-Asia’s seats. For both, as well as other contenders, the reforms of Table 12.2 retain the possibility of acquiring a non-senatorial seat. If the reform proposal incorporates the abolition of the veto, such seats would not necessarily be unattractive. This would be even more true if the present rule against re-election were removed. What would be the implication of the proposed reforms for the decision-making and in particular the individual or collective veto? As the present Security Council has in fact a collective veto, requiring nine consenting votes for a decision (in addition to the permanent member’s individual veto, according to Article 27 in the

12.3

Senatorial Members and Qualified Majority

249

Charter), the idea of collective veto is not new. It has rarely (if ever?) been used in a vote, but probably plays a role in the deliberations leading to decisions.13 The proposed qualified majority rule is, thus, simply an extension of an existing regulation. Table 12.3 specifies some implications of such a rule. From Table 12.3 we see that Africa-Asia together with South America already today has a veto as a combined group, as well as through one permanent member, China, if it were to act within the regional bloc. The only individual region without a veto is South America alone. The reforms would affect this pattern only partly. In a Security Council with 18 seats and where five go to the WEOS group, this group would retain its veto.14 Eastern Europe would lose its veto, however. In a 21-seat Security Council WEOS would lose the collective veto, but regain it in a 24-seat Council. If the two ‘European’ groups combine, as shown at the bottom of Table 12.3, their veto would be restored. In a polarization between North-West and the South-East, both groups would be able to block each other, thus either paralyzing the organization or providing incentives for consensus-building.15 The original argument for the veto – the danger that the organization could be used against a major power by a hostile majority – is partly alleviated with the qualified majority rule. It requires that a major power has allies or can muster enough abstentions to prevent a negative decision in the Council. If that power has been elected, such support is likely to exist. Also, as new elections will always be coming up, there is a chance of influencing the majority in the Council. Instead of shifting conflicts to occur outside the organization, the chances might increase that they are channeled within the constitutional framework of the organization. The real danger would instead be that a major power might not be elected to the Council at all, and could thus choose to leave the organization. The probability of this happening is difficult to assess. It can be debated whether this is a more likely and less preferable outcome than the present use of the veto, which may serve to remove significant issues from the agenda. The regional groups are not as cohesive as the figures in Table 12.3 imply on all issues all the time. In fact, the rich-poor dichotomy could cut through some of the groups. Africa-Asia includes Japan as well as Cambodia and Afghanistan, oil producers as well as nomadic societies. The diversity on many of the issues to arise after the Cold War makes bloc voting increasingly unlikely, particularly if issues such as apartheid in South Africa and the Israel-Arab conflict find solutions. The new issues emerging – such as containing and solving domestic ethnic issues,

13 See Sydney D. Bailey, The Procedure, pp. 201–209 for a discussion on the role of the veto, and on procedural issues as distinct from substantial ones. In 1945–1986, 203 proposals were vetoed. 14 A dispute may arise as to whether WEOS is entitled to a fifth seat or South America to a fourth one. Mathematically both regions would have 2–4 non-senatorial seats. The assumption here is that power prevails and that the seat is taken by WEOS. 15 Table 12.3 retains the formula for regional distribution from Table 12.2. Moving in a more ‘geo-democratic’ way by using the present non-permanent membership formula for the entire Security Council would in effect only give veto to the Africa-Asia group. In a rich-poor polarization, however, both sides would be able to exert a veto.

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Table 12.3 Who Has a Veto in the Security Council?

Total number Required for veto Separate groups Western Europe and Others Eastern Europe

Africa/Asia

South America

Present SC

Possible reform

Possible reform

Possible reform

15 7 (or 1 PM)

18 5

21 6

24 6

5 Veto due to PM 2 Veto due to PM 6 Veto due to PM 2 No veto

5 Veto

5 No veto

6 Veto

2 No veto

2 No veto

3 No veto

8 Veto

10 Veto

11 Veto

3 No veto

4 No veto

4 No veto

Combined groups Western and Eastern 7 7 7 9 Europe Veto Veto Veto Veto Africa/Asia and S. 8 11 14 !5 America Veto Veto Veto Veto Note: Qualified majority rule for decisions over the application of Chapter VII. Assuming proposed reforms of Table 12.2, and assuming groups vote in united blocs. PM = permanent member

handling climate changes which impact on security, humanitarian and environmental consequences of the many Third World wars, human rights violations, etc. – are likely to given rise to new and varying constellations of states and powers. In this more volatile and mobile situation, also UN voting patterns would become more unpredictable, making regions less unified on issues of peace and security. Concluding this, it appears that enlarging the UN Security Council to 18 members and replacing the veto with a qualified majority on Chapter VII questions would seem a fitting way of responding to the changing times. The most practical gain is the one in accountability of all the members of the Security Council. At the same time, however, this proposal manages the problems of geographical and financial representation while retaining swiftness of action.

12.4

Is It Practical?

For such a reform proposal to be implemented, there would have to be some who would gain from the change, and some who lose but would not oppose it vehemently. The winners in the proposal are likely to be found in Asia: Japan and the

12.4

Is It Practical?

251

new industrial states in Pacific Asia would increase their representation. These countries, largely bent on industrial and economic development, are likely to become important in the next century. They would probably support changes or even come to demand them. The losers are those members who are now permanent members and who in the future would have to stage election campaigns to retain a corresponding role. If these are countries that firmly believe in democratic principles for domestic affairs, they should have less hesitation in engaging in such a procedure. In fact, they would have a considerable advantage, knowing how to campaign. As no defeat would be permanent, such an outcome should be manageable. The importance of democratic principles would be strongly demonstrated to the world. In other cases, a reform of the permanent membership might, in the end, be a question of changes also in domestic politics. In fact, domestic democratization of most societies might be a precondition for changes to become practical. Studies show that democratic states are less likely to fight wars among each other.16 Domestic democratization may be a condition for a future of peace between countries. Today’s democratic Germany and Japan appear as open societies without expansionist and militarist tendencies. The spread of democratic domestic politics around the world would probably reduce the fear of sharing control over the United Nations and the Security Council. In effect, domestic and international democratization may go hand in hand, reducing the risk of international conflict as well as laying the foundation for a functioning international system. The reform proposal might become more practical as democracy spreads around the world. Whether it should or could be implemented before or after such a development is for the debate to determine.

16

See Bruce M. Russett et al, Grasping the Democratic Peace. Principles for a Post-Cold War World (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993).

Chapter 13

International Conflict Resolution, UN and Regional Organizations. The Balance Sheet Peter Wallensteen

Abstract One way to strengthen the international community and its capacity has been to give more influence to regions around the world. This chapter, published in 2015, builds on an analysis of the 31 regional organizations that have peace and security on their agenda. The UN Charter anticipated the emergence of regional organizations by including them in Chapter VIII. Thus, Peter Wallensteen outlines a “balance sheet” of the advantages and disadvantages for states of using global or regional peace making.

13.1

The Problem

The United Nations has a unique standing in the international system as the main collective actor for international peace and security.1 It is the organization expected to act when threats emerge that could lead to war. Today there is also a set of other inter-state organizations engaged in similar enterprises. Most of them we refer to as regional organizations. Some of them would also describe themselves as challengers to UN or at least to some ways in which UN acts. In recent years this has been particularly pronounced in the debate about the International Criminal Court (ICC). It has been argued that it entirely devotes itself to African situations, for instance. However, ICC is a separate body and only a few cases were referred to the Court by the Security Council.2 Still, such reactions stimulate a discussion where the autonomy of regional organizations is one issue. Would such organizations act differently and do so based on different premises than the UN? This Chapter begins to ask this

Republished from Wallensteen, Peter 2015. “International Conflict Resolution, UN and Regional Organizations. The Balance Sheet”, Chapter 2 in Wallensteen, Peter and Anders Bjurner (eds) Regional Organizations in Peacemaking. Challengers to the UN? London: Routledge, 2015. Reproduced with permission. This chapter has benefitted from the comments by Ambassador Anders Bjurner but I remain solely responsible for the contents. 2 It became an issue for discussion between the Security Council and the AU presidency in October 2013, see https://www.whatsinblue.org/2013/10/dispatches-from-the-field-annual-consultativemeeting-between-members-of-the-un-security-council-and.php. 1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_13

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question, but from the perspective of peacemaking and conflict resolution: under which circumstance would UN be the preferred actor for parties in conflict and when would a conflict instead be dealt with by an alternative body, particularly a regional organization? For member states to resort to regional organization rather than UN could constitute a challenge to the United Nations. There may also be other challengers to the UN, although they are not necessarily regional in a traditional sense: the groups of eight (G-8), thirteen (G – 8 + 5) and twenty states (G-20).

13.2

Chapter VIII in the UN Charter

The choice of organization for conflict resolution is presented in the UN Charter, where Chapter VIII – with only seven paragraphs being one of the shortest in the entire document – outlines regional “arrangements” as possible ways for dealing with issues of peace and security. The Charter makes clear that Chapter VIII shall not prevent states from turning directly to the Security Council when involved in disputes (Article 52.4) and also that the Security Council must be fully informed on the actions by regional bodies in such disputes (Article 54). Thus, the Charter does not deal with the regional bodies as if the were completely autonomous units. On the contrary, it makes clear the supremacy of UN and the Security Council. There is a resort to regional organizations as a form of peacemaking “subsidiarity”, but also that UN “remains an option if the regional efforts fall short. Chapter VIII was designed to limit Security Council deliberations to the most severe and intractable disputes” notes leading UN scholars in the standard work The United Nations and Changing World Politics (Weiss et al. 2014: 39). From the UN perspective the regional organizations could be seen either as the bodies dealing with conflicts in their early stages (for instance, through preventive diplomacy) so that they do not need to enter the UN agenda; or as bodies assisting UN conflict management in later stages of conflict (today that would include, for instance, mediation activities, troop contributions to UN or jointly operated peacekeeping operations, peacebuilding measures). However, the centrality of UN is not to be questioned, according to the Charter. In other words, Chapter VIII does not foresee a federalized world, where different regions act on their own, and apply their own principles of conflict management. On the contrary, Article 52.1 makes clear that regional activities should be “consistent with the Purposes and Principles of the United Nations.” The world envisioned in the UN Charter is one world, where conflicts are dealt with in a uniform and compatible way wherever they take place. In principle there is, so to say, no place for double standards in UN peacemaking. A UN connection to different regions in the world is through the ability of member states to form regional groups in the organization and particularly in the General Assembly. This has been particularly important in elections of nonpermanent members of the Council, but this is a general roll call, not a regional one.

13.2

Chapter VIII in the UN Charter

255

In practice UN has also instituted an informal rule that the post of the Secretary-General rotates among the regions. Even so the body is strictly a global organization built on the member-states. Certainly, this view of regions and regional organizations has sparked a debate. Proponents of “new regionalism” have argued that this reflects an “orthodoxy” based on a “Westphalian logic” and, thus, is neither accommodating to other views nor consistent with the development of civil society organizations with transnational capacities to act (Hettne/Söderbaum 2006). The “regionalist” perspective has gained intellectual grounding, notably in the work of Barry Buzan and Ole Waever. This perspective is seen as a contrast to “neorealist’ and “globalist” approaches and also of rising salience as a level for analysis as well as with contributions of its own (Buzan/Waever 2003]: 6–13). The regionalists point to the possibility of an increasingly regionalized world where regions and their representatives will set different agendas, and thus, act in ways and with goals that are distinct from what the UN expects or prefers. In a way, this perspective incorporates a general concern that globalization will lead to Westernization, commercialization and a return to colonial-type domination over international affairs. The UN, in this view, is a mere instrument for the extension of global power, probably emanating from other forces than UN. Regional integration would thus constitute a reaction to a global concentration of power and at the same time represent an increasingly active civil society (Väyrynen 2003). There is even a possibility of increased competition between global and regional organizations. However, there is also room for complementarity (Hettne/Söderbaum 2006). This critique was particularly pronounced around the turn of the century, when for instance the success of EU and the introduction of the euro seemed to give rise to a strong regional actor with its own purpose (Hettne 2010). Civil society organizations were rising and also often seemed to prefer a regional framework, possibly because it would be easier to influence them. At the same time UN experienced a series of crisis in managing the new conflicts that emerged after the Cold War. Thus, it was logical to look for alternatives. The rise of China in the early 2000s, the terrorist attack of September 11, 2001 and the American unilateral response, the financial crisis of the West since 2008 and, not the least, EU since 2009, were developments that affected this perspective. It served to emphasize the significance of non-regionally based threats and developments. Global multilateralism had to be re-evaluated. The tarnished image of EU may also have affected the belief in the actual autonomy and potency of regional actors. Furthermore, the regional uprising from 2011 associated with the Arab Spring may have given considerable additional food for thoughts on the capacity of regional organizations to deal with regional crisis. It even stimulated thoughts that regional bodies were ways for major powers to extend influence (Eriksson 2015). Thus, the question asked here remains or has become even more pertinent: under what conditions will states resort to a regional rather than a global organization for managing crisis involving the threat or use of armed force?

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International Conflict Resolution, UN and Regional Organizations …

The Present Context

During the Cold War the world was strictly divided between blocks with fairly autonomous actions inside each. Both referred to values of sovereignty and territorial integrity, that is, principles enshrined in the UN Charter. Both Soviet and Western actions were presented as consistent with their obligations to the UN. Thus, these interventions were not interventions but ‘invitations’ by legitimate governments, asking for external assistance. Direct clashes between East and West were, however, often dealt with outside the UN system. Settlements or deals were at most reported to the UN. At a large number of occasions there were no UN actions, notably in the ending of disputes around issues that remained from the Second World War, for instance, Austria, Germany and Berlin, or issues of Europe or disarmament in general. The resort to regional arrangements in this period, in other words, meant that each major power could control the developments in its sphere of influence. Indeed, this was also a reason for those drafting the UN Charter to be concerned about giving too much autonomy to regional bodies. It could potentially result in a confrontation between the global organization and regional bodies controlled by challenging states. Already in 1955 Gerhard Bebr wrote on “Regional Organizations: A UN Problem” (Bebr 1955) pointing out that the regional organizations of Chapter VIII could be controlled by the Security Council and constitute “veritable organs of the world organizations”. However, regional organizations built on Article 51, which includes the right of collective self-defense “are outside the direct control” of the Council. Such regional organizations are “inside the Charter but outside the veto” he wrote, quoting US Senator Vandenberg (Bebr 1955: 174). One of the organizations dealt with here, NATO, belongs firmly to the second category, but so does the League of Arab States (Bebr 1955: 181). The fear during the Cold War was that regional organizations would be parties in the global confrontation, and in that sense, not necessarily represent the global aspirations and general principles typical for UN (Lind 2015). After the end of the Cold War, UN has achieved a new centrality and the Security Council has been activated in an unprecedented way (Malone 2004). This has also made the issue of regional organizations and their relationship to UN pertinent. However, initially this was not from the perspective of becoming vehicles for major power rivalries, as Bebr feared, but as complements or alternatives to the UN, within a shared framework of peace and security. Only later did regionalist perspective appear, although seeing regions as autonomous from any of the major powers. Thus, there are today particularly good reasons to investigate which conflicts “are appropriate for regional action” as Article 52 states. It highlights UN relations to regional organizations in a different way than during the Cold War. By the end of 2013 the United Nations had more than 100,000 peacekeepers in diverse missions around the world. This ranged from traditional separation of forces in Cyprus to enforcement actions in Eastern Congo and Mali. At the same time an equal or even higher number of international military missions were undertaken in

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the name of peace and security by other actors.3 NATO commanded a sizeable operation in Afghanistan; the African Union led a complex operation in Somalia; the West African organization ECOWAS was engaged in the Ivory Coast/Côte d’Ivoire; the European Union operated missions in the Indian Ocean, Kosovo and Libya. The 2000s provided a new scene compared to the Cold War or even the first post-Cold War phase of the 1990s, when the international community stumbled into situations it had difficulties in managing, notably Bosnia, Rwanda and the early experiences in Somalia. Since then actors engaged in peace diplomacy extended beyond the realm of military and police operations. The mediators have become many more, where the UN Secretary-General’s lists of special representatives and advisors, included more than 100 persons. The UN Mediation Support Unit created stand-by teams for mediation in difficult conflicts. The European Union developed a policy for conflict prevention, and recruited a large external action service (i.e. EEAS, Bjurner 2017). Also, the use of sanctions was no longer the prerogative of UN or major powers; both EU and AU instituted their own practices. The African Union, rising from the original Organization of African Unity (OAU), was equipped with more efficient administration and enlarged mandates in the field of peace and security. Also other regional organizations reformed themselves, as seen in the formation of the OSCE (Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe) from the previous conference organization, with mandates including a concern for national minorities (Fahlén 2015; Ekéus 2015). ASEAN, the inter-state association for cooperation in Southeast Asia, took measures to become a regional organization for the entirety of East Asia, not the least through launching of ARF, the ASEAN regional forum. EU’s policy of enlargement turned the organization into a body of 28 closely cooperating states, and with yet another set of aspiring members. There was a proliferation of regional bodies, and thus, reasons to raise the questions associated with regionalist approaches. In fact, by 2014 there were viable options beyond UN for any state or government that wanted to have a hearing for its particular grievances or concerns. This development certainly was beyond the original thoughts of the UN. Chapter VIII talks about “regional arrangements or agencies” but seventy years later we could instead review full-fledged regional organizations, with their own mandates, finances, memberships, secretariats and practical experience. This study has identified 29 such organizations that clearly are within the field of peace and security with an additional two (The Arctic Council and Mercosur, the Southern American Common Market) that are aspiring to become regional actors also in matters of peacemaking (Zouave 2015). Theoretically as well as in practice there were workable options. Most of these alternatives are normally satisfied to work within the framework of Chapter VIII, and some that earlier were only operating from

3

This had actually been the case of a considerable period of time, see Heldt/Wallensteen (2006). However, the UN procedures were often a model for the operations by other organizations.

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Article 51 may today be under the umbrella of Chapter VIII, for instance NATO.4 However, there were also debates going on in some of these bodies that may ultimately lead to questioning the standing of the UN. The period since 1989 also saw an unprecedented amount of conflict, largely dealing with internal affairs. The Uppsala Conflict Data Program reports 141 armed conflicts between 1989 and 2012, of which 32 were still ongoing by the end of that period. The classical inter-state conflicts were few and there were many more experiences of internationalized internal armed conflicts. The original parties may have conceived of their struggle as one of power or territory in one state, but in many cases the conflicts had early on involved external actors as providers of weapons, funds, bases, political support or even more direct involvement.5 The outsiders, furthermore, were often geographically close, meaning that neighbors were involved on the different warring sides. In addition there were a large number of conflicts between non-state actors (whether ethnic, rebel or religious groups) as well as considerable one-sided violence (violence directed at civilians and bystanders).6 These events could also involve neighboring countries, as the societies would harbor similar grievances and tensions. Cross-border diffusion of conflict was a reality. Thus, the rise of new or reformed regional organizations was parallel to increasing regional instability. An entire region could be engulfed by the conflict originating in one country.7 There were ‘failed regions’, where states in practice acted against their own preferred norm of territorial integrity by sending troops or weapons to support rebels, for instance. What was perceived as security concerns or political expedient overruled established legal limitations. There were ‘regional conflict complex’. Seemingly unrelated conflicts have become interconnected through alliances, enmity and opportunism.8 This is as global a problem as globalization itself. In recent years, the involvement of Arab countries in the armed conflicts of Bahrain, Libya, Syria and Yemen demonstrates this. In the African setting this can be observed with regard Somalia and Eastern Congo. In Asia, the typical case may today be Afghanistan; and in South America the conflict in Colombia affected relations to Venezuela and Ecuador. The legitimate question was whether regional organizations would be able to deal with the problems of ‘their’ region in a fair and impartial way, or if there were advantages in turning to a more ‘distant’ global organization. As these examples make clear, the conflicts have not been left entirely to the regional actors. Observing the interplay between the global and regional organizations may be a more fruitful way of approaching the problem

4

Adler/Greve (2009):74f describes how NATO moved into collective security from its previous stance. 5 Themnér/Wallensteen (2013a). 6 Themnér/Wallensteen (2013b). 7 Harbom/Wallensteen (2005). 8 Wallensteen, Peter and Margareta Sollenberg 1998. ‘Armed Conflict and Regional Conflict Complexes, 1989–1997,’ Journal of Peace Research, 35: 593–606. Buzan and Waever has a related concept, regional security complexes, see Buzan/Waever (2003).

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of which one is more suitable for what type of conflict. There is relevance in the idea of thinking of complementarity (Hettne/Söderbaum 2006), but this requires a closer look at the record of regional organizations in dealing with conflict.

13.4

Regional Conflict and Regional Organizations

As already mentioned, this project has identified 31 regional organizations that are active in matters clearly relating to international peace and security (Zouave 2015). The meaning of ‘regional’ is not taken literally, but in an inclusive way. It is not easy to define a ‘region’, beyond the observation that it does not just reflect a particular geographical area of somewhat connected political units. Historical experiences and recent conflict actually constitute elements in what is perceived – inside as well as from the outside – as a ‘region’. Identifying regional organizations means using criteria that are fairly flexible, particularly when we search for those that have a mandate emphasizing issues of peace and security.9 Organizations that today may appear of minor importance can suddenly become relevant as the only framework in which parties to a conflict can engage in diplomacy or mediation. Thus, the definition used here is quite liberal. This means that the data includes continental organizations such as the African Union, as well as sub-continental ones, notably GCC and SADC, as well as transcontinental ones, notably NATO, OIC and the various language-based commonwealths. A geographical breakdown shows that Africa is the region with the most memberships in continental, transcontinental or subcontinental organizations. Not only are there organizations for all major parts of Africa and the continental African Union, but African countries are also members of the Non-Aligned Movement, Organization for Islamic Cooperation, the League of Arab States, and the language-based groupings stemming from colonial times and ties. Also Europe has a dense network of regional organizations, but does not have the independent sub-regional representation that is more typical for Africa. The EU stands out as a strong organization with continental ambitions deliberately absorbing local tendencies. The area with the weakest institutional network is East Asia, where there is no organization specifically focusing on security issues for the fifteen states in the area. The effort by ASEAN to extend its membership into East Asia is one of the very few attempts in this direction, resulting in ARF, The ASEAN Regional Forum, and APT, ASEAN Plus Three. Even in the more restricted, economic field there is no specific organization, although the region includes the second and third largest economies of the world. For instance, APEC [Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation] has a wider membership, including also the USA.

9

The list here is longer than the one used for instance by Kirchner and Dominguez who include ten organizations in their 2011 book and fourteen in their 2013 report.

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These patterns tell us that there is not an equal or even distribution of regional organizations around the world. It has early on been observed that some countries are more heavily involved in inter-state organizations in general, notably the states in Western Europe (Russet 1975). To some extent this reflects population density and the large number of states on a small piece of territory: for the many states in Europe it is necessary to find ways of cooperation. The same type of interaction would in larger states be intra-state cooperation, and indeed, some of the territorially wide-stretched states do have federal constitutions (US, Russia, Brazil, Australia) where the subunits sometimes have considerable autonomy. Still, it is interesting to ask what the relationship could be between the number of regional organizations and the experience of armed conflict. The most recent reports on armed conflict demonstrate that Africa and Asia has the highest number of ongoing conflicts. This is a pattern that has prevailed for a considerable part of the post-Cold War period. Europe has seen only a few wars, notably in the Balkans and in the Caucasus, while East Asia has had no such experiences in this era. As we just noted, Europe has a large number of organizations, but their coverage of the areas of conflicts was minimal. Armed conflicts were located in the neighborhood of these institutions, rather than within them. The exception is OSCE; a body which, however, scored only limited advances in peacemaking, for instance, on Nagorno-Karabakh. In the aftermath of the Balkan conflicts, EU memberships have been extended, with an obvious expectation that this will prevent the return to conflict. Although the existing regional organizations did not prevent the rise of conflict, the lessons learned may provide a ground for a more effective role in the future. As the bases for the EU peace policy is one of enhancing democracy, it can draw support from statistical studies: International organizations consisting largely of democratic states have a greater chance of preventing the onset and escalation of militarized disputes between states (Pevehouse and Russett 2006). Africa and Asia contrast each other: Africa has many more organizations than Asia; still the number of conflicts is not significantly different. One may argue that the regional organizations are irrelevant, too weak or created too late for the management of conflict in Africa. Again, the organizations may more appear as reactions to the conflicts rather than preventive bodies, and again, as is the case with European organizations, their role may be more important in the future. This observation is supported by an analysis of 14 regional organizations. The authors, Kirschner and Dominguez, report that such organizations, particularly outside Europe, may “have a declared emphasis on collective defense, the principles of non-intervention and self-determination, shaped by historical legacies, impede progress”. Thus, the emphasis of these bodies turns to conflict prevention (Kirschner/Dominguez 2014: 19–20). The study that remains to be done is, then, to ask if these organizations have been able to prevent conflicts from rising in the first place. Would there have been more conflicts without the existence of EU and OSCE? It is not impossible that the frameworks provided ways in which, for instance, regional actors could voice their grievances, get attention and also had their concerns met. For the time being, we have only case histories to work on, but we may note that EU places considerable attention to regional development and that

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OSCE has a special commissioner working on the issues of national minorities throughout its region of operation (Ekéus 2015). However, in the European and African situations there are, in fact, organizations to build on, something which strongly differs from Asia. The Asian continent houses an equal number of protracted and complicated conflict as Africa, and still exhibit limited ambitions to develop regional organizational networks for the areas of conflict. Much of the conflicts are concentrated to South and Central Asia (Sri Lanka, conflicts in India, over Kashmir, in Pakistan, and over Afghanistan) and post-conflict peacebuilding has been lacking in all these cases. Indeed, very few of the conflicts have been terminated at all. At most they have ended in cease-fires. The conflict between the Tamil Tigers and the Sri Lankan government was ended through a military victory, and the future prospects for a constructive process of peacebuilding appear bleak. With the Asian examples in mind we can conclude that the construction of regional bodies for peace and security is not a universal reaction after a conflict. This lack of constructive post-war learning and absence of institution-building is even more marked for East Asia, where considerable conflict was waged during the Cold War (Korea, Indochina) but hardly at all since 1980 (Tønnesson et al. 2013). Still there has been no concerted effort at building regional arrangements to prevent the rise of renewed conflicts. This leads to a general observation that regional bodies for regional peace and security mostly require that conflicts be solved first. Their effectiveness is enhanced following this experience, in those cases where there is enough political energy to pursue the shared solution. Such organizations express the need for closer cooperation that emerges once post-conflict situations have stabilized. In that sense, regional bodies are created, enlarged or strengthened as a reaction to earlier conflicts and, thus, constitute a shared manifestation of not repeating the past. In that regard, they may be more effective when conflict reappear, and play a stronger role in remedying conflict. Thus, for appropriate regional action to take place in war-torn areas such as in Asia, the conflicts first have to be solved in ways that have the prospects of being lasting: Peace diplomacy precedes effective regional institution-building. However, the ideas and the first initiatives to building regional organizations may emerge during conflict. Indeed, UN itself was conceived during the Second World War, drawing on the lessons from the failures of the previous body, the League of Nations. Thus, the construction of regional bodies could very well be part of the conflict resolution process, and in that sense, help to cement the ambitions of post-conflict peacebuilding. The League of Nations could not prevent the onset of the Second World War. In a similar way, many of the African regional organizations could not prevent the conflicts that emerged among the member states. IGAD in the Horn of Africa included both Ethiopia and Eritrea, but the conflict between these two blocked the organization from acting. However, the organization has not been abandoned. Its future efficacy will largely depend on a change in the relations between the two countries. In the meantime the organization is gaining experience in other settings, thus, possibly being ready for a day when relations in the Horn are more amicable. A most recent cases in the conflicts in

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South Sudan in 2013–14. ECOWAS provides a different story and may have been strengthened by its experience in the West African region, but then the conflicts have not directly involved its leading members, notably Nigeria and Ghana. ECOWAS demonstrates the use of a series of mixed roles in the recent West African conflicts: sometimes a mediator, sometimes a peace enforcer or a keeper of the peace that others negotiated. SADC has taken a mediating role in Southern Africa, in particular in the Zimbabwe situation, but may, in the long run have acted in ways that strengthened incumbent governments to the detriment of civil society organizations and social movements. It may see itself as acting for conflict prevention, however, and thus may expect its action to have prevented civil war. The price may be that the organization has lost credibility and popular legitimacy in significant quarters.

13.5

Regional Approaches to Regional Conflicts

Is there evidence that a regional organization would deal with a conflict differently from a global one? The choices of conflict resolution strategy seem, in fact, to be similar. For instance, should the peacemaking community deal with the conflicts in an incremental way, that is, approach one conflict at a time, or should it take a bolder, comprehensive, approach, by searching for a regional settlement for all relevant conflicts at the same time? The dilemmas will be the same for the regional bodies and the global ones. This can be illustrated. The incremental approach, often seen as more realistic, requires that one identifies the most solvable problem in a region and concentrates efforts on this. The expectation is that all the other will be easier once such a process has been initiated and shown some progress. The African-driven peace process in Burundi is an example. After a settlement between some actors, others joined in and a momentum was generated that lead to a remarkable reduction of violence in the country. However, Burundi is not isolated from other conflicts in the Great Lakes regional conflict complex. Armed actions continued in the neighboring Democratic Republic of Congo, threatening to undermine Burundi achievements. The solution in Burundi did not generate the will to settle other conflicts, and, instead of a leading to a diffusion of peace, measures had to be taken to extract Burundi from the convulsions of the region. One could say that the core problem of regional instability, DRC, was not targeted first, and until this situation is solved there will be no regional peace. The problem may be even deeper, going back to the genocide in Rwanda in 1994, thus, making a peaceful settlement in Rwanda the most important approach. Whatever conclusion one draws, the dynamics from one settlement does not easily lead to a settlement in other situations. Theoretically, the priority should probably be given to the core problems (DRC, Rwanda) and that may generate more results, but at the same time the chances of success were greater in Burundi. Targeting the central problem, thus appears more cumbersome but ultimately more rewarding in the long run, whereas the incremental route dealing with the most

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amenable problem first would yield immediate results that benefit some of the affected states and their populations. As this may not necessarily make the larger settlement more difficult, this approach may be satisfactory, for a regional organization as well as for a global one. The bolder, more comprehensive, approach is to deal with the regional situation in its entirety. An example is the Great Lakes initiatives, attempting to generate a regional momentum for conflict resolution, now having led to a “regional arrangement” in the words of Chapter VIII that we include as a regional organization in this book. A precedent is the way the protracted wars were ended in Central America, where the solution worked from a vision – largely generated by Nobel Peace Prize laureate Oscar Arias – of a process that would end all conflicts and at the same time help construct new forms of regional cooperation. A remarkable, regionally driven process was initiated and achieved an end to all the conflicts by the mid-1990s, and an innovative framework of cooperation has emerged, SICA, that also belongs to the regional organizations that are included in the project (Zouave 2015). However, these approaches are common insights, and not specific to a particular regional body. In fact, the Central American process had a strong connection to the UN, involving a series of international mediators and facilitators in addition to considerable commitment to the process by the UN Secretary-General of the time (Perez de Cuellar and Boutros-Ghali, respectively). Thus, the difference may not be in the strategy chosen, but rather the understanding of who is leading the initiative. A regionally based leadership may, in that sense, add values in the form of personal networks, cultural understandings and a longer-term engagement to the process and the solution. Such aspects may improve the credibility of the peacemaking efforts. If, furthermore, it can work from a shared understanding of what is the core problem and what is the most realistic way forward, it becomes a significant contribution. The fact that President Arias, for instance, worked with UN rather than US, may have served to enhance his credibility in the region. Applying such thinking to some of the urgent regional challenges of today yields valuable observations. For the Middle East, the unresolved Palestinian issue has been regarded as the core problem for a long period of time. The League of Arab States (LAS) was actually conceived as defense against Israel, and in that sense, still does not constitute an organization for the entire region. Its Charter resembles the one of NATO, as mentioned above. Still, its most urgent problem since 2011 has been the situation in Syria. LAS has had considerable difficulty in developing a shared strategy for dealing with this conflict. Not only is the organization torn by divisions among the member states there appears to be no agreement on the core problem either (in the Syrian case, should incumbent president Bashar al-Assad step down or not?) and there is not consensus that this might presently be more important than the Palestinian situation. Furthermore, there is a strong element of outside involvement that cannot be uniformly confronted by the Arab states (Russia, Turkey, Iran, the West). It seems difficult, not to say impossible, to find a regional process that would help to cut such external ties and isolate the local conflict from extra-regional developments. On the contrary, leading actors have for

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long been asking for more intervention from the outside, rather than less. Neither the cases of Burundi, nor Central America provide sufficiently parallel experience for a purely regional initiative to take root and gain momentum. Thus, the solution might have to be sought in a UN context rather than a regional one, and by early 2014 UN seemed to be the leading organizational actor in the conflict, although in the shadow of the USA and Russia.

13.6

Global Versus Regional Peacemaking: The Balance Sheet

We have seen that the rise and purposes of the 31 security-oriented regional organizations do have a close connection to recent conflict experience. Even if their charters may talk in general terms about cooperation, shared values and economic benefits, their strength is drawn from their ability to bridge previous conflict and turn human energy into new peaceful endeavors. This is the story of EU, SICA, and ECOWAS and, to some extent, AU. Organizations that have such experience are also more likely to have gained a standing as dependable organizations for conflict resolution. They are the ones a country or a non-state actor could turn to when in need of a solution. All regional organizations that we have identified do not necessarily have these qualities and, thus, will not constitute viable alternatives to the United Nations, or, as seen from the UN perspective, constitute reliable partners to which UN can hand over peacemaking efforts, be they mediation, fact-finding, peacekeeping or even peace enforcement. The advantages for such, entrenched and experienced regional organizations are then, first of all their closeness to the situation. Personal and organizational networks are close and mostly build on non-conflictual interactions. There may also be parallel experiences to draw on, and thus expertise, insights and knowledge that can be relevant in different phases of peace initiatives. In particular: the regional body cannot withdraw from the situation. It is in it for the long-term, thus, having a vested interest in the success of its peacemaking. There are certainly also shortcomings that may disqualify regional organs from particular conflicts. The other side of closeness may be an actual involvement by the organization or its leading members in favor of one or the other party in a conflict. The regional organization may appear as an instrument for a partisan approach to the conflict. Historical, personal and organizational networks may not include new actors with a revolutionary intent or backgrounds in social groups that have not been represented before. Indeed, many regional organizations build on government-to-government interactions and are thus, as a consequence, likely to be more connected to the status quo, which may hamper their ability to understand revolutionary movements. The more common arguments against regional organizations would also point to their often weak financial and organizational situation, but, in general, that may be

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true for all new initiatives. If an organization is able to generate a momentum in a settlement process it is also likely to attract resources for bringing it to fruition. In addition, regional organizations can, more easily than a global one, be dominated by one or a few regionally influential states, with their own agendas. This will also affect their ability to credibly act in particular conflicts. Many regional organizations are in fact dominated by only one state, notably India’s role in SAARC in South Asia, possibly South Africa’s in SADC in Southern Africa and Ethiopia’s in IGAD for the Horn of Africa. In some there may be a measure of balancing, notably in ECOWAS where Nigeria’s strength may partly be offset by Ghana’s skillful diplomacy. The League of Arab States includes all the leading Arab states, but this may also threaten to paralyze the organization, for instance if Algeria and Saudi Arabia cannot agree, or if there is a rivalry between capitals, or when a dominant actor, Egypt, is weakened (as is the case today). Cooperation in ASEAN, with strong states such as Indonesia, Thailand and Vietnam could potentially develop in to regional rivalries, and may, thus, benefit from the presence of competent actors, especially Malaysia and the Philippines, as well as a shared concerned about the rise of China. The disparities in power are a matter of life, of course, and the regional organizations that most successful manage to minimize its effects on its operations are more likely to be reliable actors in peacemaking. The complicated governance structure of EU may, in that sense, be an advantage and increase the chance of other voices being heard than those of France, Germany and Britain. Furthermore, the role of smaller states, notably Belgium, the Netherlands and Luxemburg in the early days of European cooperation, should not be underestimated. Some of the disadvantages accruing to the regional organization are pluses for the global level: UN in particular, have more resources, more experience and a distance to the local situation that may make it particularly relevant as the driver of a peace process, or as a partner to a regional body. It also has some additional advantages, in particular its strong legal standing. As we have seen, the regional arrangements constitute part of the UN Charter and they all have to relate to UN. Thus, having UN involved, engaged or at least well-informed, is almost a necessity for any peace process today. Close to half of the world’s conflicts are on the agenda of the Security Council and many more take up the time of the Secretary-General in informal approaches, significant conversations and secret diplomacy.10 A paradox for UN in regional and local peacemaking is the role of the Security Council and, in particular, its five permanent members. The Council could help to speedily end a conflict, but it could also lead to paralysis. We have noted that regional organizations have to face the reality of unequal distribution of power, but in UN it is institutionalized. USA, UK, France, Russia and China all have vast networks, military resources and sufficient economic strength to outdo any challengers. If the five are in general agreement, this may be helpful for political settlement, if they are in disagreement it is definitely harmful. Bringing a conflict to

10

See Wallensteen and Johansson in Malone, 2015.

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the Security Council risks spreading a dispute beyond the locale where it is being waged and might even be drawn into global rivalries than only distantly relate to the local parties. This is the Cold War experience, where UN and the Security Council often were incapable of acting. The inability of the USA and Russia for a long time to find common ground on the Syrian problem meant that a conflict continued way beyond what its complexity may have required. So far, this type of major power disagreement has only related to one particular conflict in the present decade, and cooperation continued in other significant issues (notably Korea, Palestine, Afghanistan, nuclear non-proliferation, terrorism). The danger of widening major power disagreements may be high, however, and thus affects the efficacy of UN and the Council as a resource for peacemaking. In summary, the rise of regional organizations has provided states and civil society actors with alternatives for peacemaking. We have seen that some of these organizations have developed through their experiences in conflict management. Failures and shortcomings have been remedied, thus making them more credible and dependable as organizations for conflict resolutions when new challenges arise. However, a great number of the organizations do not yet stand the test of accumulated experience and, thus, remain weak. Many are unlikely fora for conflict actors to turn to. Some may also be too influenced by local rivalries and have too much of their own vested interests in some conflicts for them to be partners for peace. Still, UN remains the primary international organization. However, it might be wise for it to consider the new actors as important additions and resources for peacemaking. The relationship between UN and civil society organizations is often missing and is an important aspect for improvement. For many regional organizations such connections may be easier to develop, although there is little systematic insight yet. Finding appropriate forms of cooperation between the global and regional levels may be the preferred approach, avoiding competition and building complementarity. It also suggests that UN needs to find new forms of cooperation. The informality of the meetings among seven, eight, thirteen or twenty leading states and organization (G 8, G 8+5, G 20) that have been meeting more intensively in later years suggests that UN cannot assume that it will always be able to retain its unique standing. For instance, the G 20 meeting in St. Petersburg in September 2013 did not only discuss economic issue that is its mandate, but also dealt with the war in Syria. This is not the first time that such issues have come up. The G 7/8 meeting in Britain in 2005 launched an ambitious program on African development. The number of meeting where the Security Council is composed of the top leadership in the member states is few and far between. G 8 and G 20 meetings seem more capable of attracting high-level participation. These are warning signs for the UN system. It standing has to be earned through daily engagement. It may also need a vision of reforms of some of its leading organs. Most important in that regard is the composition of the Security Council. Working for change is not just a matter of

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signaling an understanding of an outdated arrangement, but also finding a way to connect to rising states, as well as entire regions that confront the challenges of armed conflict, structural change, democratic participation, economic development, environmental sustainability, in short: quality peace.

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Tavares, R. 2010. Regional Security. The Capacity of International Organizations. New York: Routledge. Thakhur, R and L. Van Langenhove 2006. “Enhancing Global Governance through Regional Integration.” Global Governance 12: 233/40. Themnér, Lotta and Peter Wallensteen 2013a. “Armed conflict, 1946–2012.” Journal of Peace Research. Vol. 50 (4): 509–521. Themnér, Lotta and Peter Wallensteen 2013b. “Patterns of organized violence, 2002–2011.” SIPRI Yearbook 2013. Oxford University Press, Chapter 1.III. Tønnesson Stein, Erik Melander, Elin Bjarnegård, Isak Svensson and Susanne Schaftenaar 2013. “The Fragile Peace in East and Southeast Asia,” SIPRI Yearbook 2013, Oxford University Press. Väyrynen, Raimo 2003. “Regionalism: Old and New,” International Studies Review, 5 (1): 25–51. Wallensteen, Peter 2012. “Regional Peacebuilding: A New Challenge,“ New Routes (Life and Peace Institute). Vol. 17 (4): 3–5. Wallensteen, Peter and Margareta Sollenberg 1998. “Armed Conflict and Regional Conflict Complexes, 1989–1997,” Journal of Peace Research, 35: 593–606. Wallensteen, Peter and Patrik Johansson 2015. “The UN Security Council: Decisions and Actions.” In Sebastian von Einsiedel, David M. Malone and Bruno Stagno Ugarte (eds) The UN Security Council in the 21st Century, Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, pp. 27–54. Weiss, Thomas G, David P. Forsythe, Roger A. Coate and Kelly-Kate Pease 2014. The United Nations and Changing World Politics, Boulder, Co.: Westview Press, 7th edition. Zouave, Erik T. 2015 “Regional organizations for peace and security – an overview”, Appendix II in Wallensteen, Peter and Anders Bjurner (eds), Regional Organizations in Peacemaking. Challengers to the UN? London: Routledge, pp 248–254.

Chapter 14

The United Nations Security Council in State-Based Armed Conflicts, 2003–2012 Peter Wallensteen and Patrik Johansson

Abstract In this article from 2014 the authors analyze the extent to which armed conflicts, as defined by the Uppsala Conflict Data Program, have received attention of the Security Council. They look at the number and type of resolutions that have been passed during a recent ten-year period. They also make an inquiry into the use of vetoes by any of the five permanent members to prevent the Security Council from taking up a particular conflict. The use of the veto can explain the inconsistencies in the Council reactions to conflicts of a similar magnitude in human suffering.

The United Nations Security Council is the prime global body for handling threats to international peace and security. But there is a continuous debate about whether the Council is biased in its attention to state-based conflicts around the world, with some claiming that it is hypocritical in addressing some conflicts but not treating others in an equal manner. This accusation is often directed against the Western members of the Council. There is also a fear that the Council's attention is skewed by the composition of its permanent members: China, France, Russia, the United Kingdom and the United States, all of which were the victors of World War II, which ended almost 70 years ago. It is claimed that additional permanent members would mean more attention being paid to conflicts that are otherwise neglected.1

1

This chapter reproduces with permission Peter Wallensteen and Patrik Johansson 2014. The United Nations Security Council in state-based armed conflicts, 2003-12. SIPRI Yearbook 2014: Armaments, Disarmament and International Security, Oxford University Press, pp. 56–69. For recent reviews of this debate see Lidén, A., ‘United Nations after the cold war: power, regions and groups', and Österdahl, I., ‘Collective security in a changing geopolitical landscape', eds P. Wallensteen and A. Bjurner, Regional Organizations and Peacemaking: Challengers to the UN? (Routledge: London, 2015). See also Weiss, T. G. et al., The United Nations and Changing World Politics, 7th edn (Westview Press: Boulder, CO, 2013). For an overview of arguments in the wide-ranging debate on the composition of the Security Council see Hurd, I., ‘Myths of membership', Global Governance, vol. 14, no. 2 (2008). © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_14

269

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An examination of the record of Security Council action will show whether these claims are valid or not.2 This section starts by describing the role of the Council in addressing conflicts. It then looks in turn at which powers the Council applies in resolutions, the intensity of the conflicts that it addresses, the conflicts it devotes most and least attention to, the geographical pattern of attention, and the use of the veto. It ends with conclusions on the balance of the Council's attention. Since this study relies on data on armed conflicts, the most recent year of study is 2012. This study focuses on Security Council resolutions. It defines ‘Security Council attention' to mean the adoption of a resolution, which requires the positive vote of at least 9 of the 15 members of the Council and the absence of a veto from any of the 5 permanent members. The Council can also demonstrate its concern for particular situations through presidential statements and press releases, or it may discuss a conflict without taking action. Such a conflict is also likely to be on the agenda of the UN Secretary-General. Although there is no formal, regularly updated documentation on action by the Secretary-General, other evidence shows that the Secretary-General and his representatives and envoys carry out considerable peacemaking work, both based on and independent of Security Council decisions. Security Council resolutions are thus not a precise measure of attention, but they do convey a rough understanding of Council priorities and, since they are closely connected to action by the UN, they are central to the study of the Council's activity.

14.1

The Role of the Security Council in Armed Conflicts

It is often documented that the Security Council became activated after the end of the cold war. With more conflicts and disputes appearing on the agenda of the Council, it has taken the central role that the cold war denied it.3 However, its purview is not universal. In the period 2003–12 there were 76 state-based armed conflicts in the world (see Table 14.1). However, not all of these conflicts made it on to the Council's agenda and were subject to a decision (i.e. a resolution) by the Council. A first indication of possible bias can be found when studying the extent to which these conflicts resulted in Council action. Only one-third of the state-based conflicts in

2

The data on conflicts used here comes from the Uppsala Conflict Data Program (UCDP)—on this program see Chapter 7 in this volume. The data on UN Security Council resolutions is an author compilation from the UN Security Council website, https://www.un.org/securitycouncil/content/ resolutions-0. For the definition of Chapter VII resolutions see Johansson, P., ‘The humdrum use of ultimate authority: defining and analyzing Chapter VII resolutions', Nordic Journal of International Law, vol. 78, no. 3 (2009). 3 Malone, D. M. (ed.), The UN Security Council: From the Cold War to the 21st Century (Lynne Rienner: Boulder, CO, 2004).

14.1

The Role of the Security Council in Armed Conflicts

271

Table 14.1 United Nations Security Council resolutions and state-based armed conflicts, 2003– 12. Number of state-based armed conflicts active in at least one year in this period. Sources: UCDP Dyadic Dataset v. 1-2013, https://ucdp.uu.se; and UN Security Council resolutions, https://www. un.org/securitycouncil/content/resolutions-0 Minor state-based conflict

War

All state-based conflict

No Resolution 44 7 51 At least one Resolution, but none 2 3 5 under Chapter VII At least one Resolution under Chapter VII 12 8 20 Total 58 18 76 Note: A war is a state-based conflict that results in more than 1000 battle-related deaths in a year. This column includes conflicts that were at the level of war in any of the years in the period 2003–12.

2003–12 led to a UN Security Council resolution in that period; 51 of the conflicts attracted no resolution (see Table 14.1).4 Although, as discussed above, the Security Council or the Secretary-General may address conflicts in other ways than the adoption of a resolution, the clear conclusion is that the Council is not attending to all state-based conflicts equally: some form of selection is taking place. While there are no objective criteria for determining whether a certain situation constitutes a threat to peace and security or whether its continuation is likely to lead to such a threat, the Council is more or less free to decide to act on any situation that can reasonably be described as constituting a current or future threat. The fact that two-thirds of all conflicts, and nearly two-fifths of the most intense ones, did not result in a single UN Security Council resolution is both remarkable and worrying. There are several legitimate reasons to expect variations in Security Council attention to different conflicts. The Council could decide to focus on the most severe conflicts or on the most durable conflicts, and to pay little or no attention to short, small-scale disputes. These aspects are explored below.

14.2

The Powers of the Security Council

The powers of the Security Council are defined by Chapters V, VI and VII of the UN Charter.5 In Chapter V the UN member states agree to carry out the Council's decisions.6 Chapter VI gives the Council the power to take measures to prevent 4

According to a separate study by the present authors, of the 25 most intense state-based conflicts (in terms of accumulated battle-related deaths) of the post-cold war era, 18 were active during the period 2003-12. In those years, the Security Council adopted resolutions on only 10, including 8 that were addressed under Chapter VII. Wallensteen, P. and Johansson, P., ‘The UN Security Council: trends in decisions and actions', eds S. von Einsiedel, D. M. Malone and B. Stagno Ugarte, The Security Council during the 21st Century (Lynne Rienner: Boulder, CO, 2015). 5 Charter of the United Nations, signed 26 June 1945, entered into force 24 Oct. 1945, https://www. un.org/en/documents/charter. 6 Charter of the United Nations (note 5), Article 25.

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disputes from escalating, and Chapter VII allows it to decide on enforcement measures. The Security Council has a powerful position when it resorts to action under Chapter VII, but it may also use the less demanding measures under Chapter VI.

14.2.1 Chapter VI Powers Under Chapter VI the Security Council can decide to investigate situations ‘in order to determine whether the continuance of the dispute or situation is likely to endanger the maintenance of international peace and security'.7 In such situations, the Council may recommend that the parties seek a solution by means of negotiation, enquiry, mediation, conciliation, arbitration, judicial settlement, resort to regional agencies or arrangements, or other peaceful means.8 An example is Resolution 1640 of 2005 on Eritrea and Ethiopia, in which the Security Council, ‘stressing that the continuation of the situation would constitute a threat to international peace and security', ‘calls upon both parties to work, without preconditions, to break the current stalemate through diplomatic efforts'.9 This means that the Council is not deciding what the parties should do more concretely, only that they should resort to more diplomacy. The Council also ‘Expresses its determination to consider further appropriate measures, including under Article 41 [in Chapter VII], if one or both of the parties fail to comply with the demands'. The parties to a conflict may feel pressure from the UN, while remaining recalcitrant. In the particular case of Ethiopia and Eritrea, it is notable that the same stalemate still prevails; almost a decade after Resolution 1640 was passed.

14.2.2 Chapter VII Powers Under Chapter VII the Security Council can decide on enforcement action to address ‘any threat to the peace, breach of the peace, or act of aggression'.10 The means at the Council's disposal under Chapter VII include the power to impose various forms of sanctions (Article 41) and the power to authorize the use of force (Article 42). An example is Resolution 1718 of 2006 on the Democratic People's Republic of Korea (DPRK, or North Korea), in which the Security Council, ‘Expressing

7

Charter of the United Nations (note 5), Article 34. Charter of the United Nations (note 5), Article 33. 9 UN Security Council Resolution 1640, 23 Nov. 2005. 10 Charter of the United Nations (note 5), Article 39. 8

14.2

The Powers of the Security Council

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profound concern that the test [of a nuclear weapon] claimed by the DPRK has generated increased tension in the region and beyond, and determining therefore that there is a clear threat to international peace and security', introduced, explicitly under Article 41, a series of economic and commercial sanctions against North Korea.11 These measures had a profound effect on the development on the crisis, leading to a series of actions and reactions between the UN, its permanent members and North Korea.12 While the impact of the measures adopted under Chapters VI and VII can be debated, there is no doubt that, in the examples given above, the violations of UN decisions were seen as more serious in the North Korean case than in the case of Eritrea and Ethiopia.13 North Korea has remained under international pressure; Ethiopia has not, while Eritrea may be more isolated, but largely for reasons unrelated to this particular action by the Security Council. In other words, action under Chapter VII means that the international community views an issue as important enough to warrant a strong reaction. Chapter VI also sends a message, but a ‘softer’ one.

14.2.3 The Choice of Chapter VI or Chapter VII Powers When the Security Council decides to involve itself, it often becomes heavily committed to a particular conflict. In such cases there will be a series of resolutions under Chapter VII. In 20 of the 25 conflicts that the Security Council addressed in the period 2003– 12, it used Chapter VII powers in at least one resolution (see Table 14.1). However, in one-fifth of the conflicts it addressed, the Council adopted resolutions without resorting to Chapter VII. This could provide food for the critique of double standards since some actor may have preferred that ‘their' conflict be treated as a Chapter VII matter, implying a higher degree of attention. The Security Council adopted several resolutions regarding the broadly defined Arab-Israeli conflict during the period, both under Chapter VI and under Chapter VII, including 20 that extended the mandate of the UN Disengagement Observer Force (UNDOF) in the Golan Heights. The UCDP records two conflicts within this Arab-Israeli cluster that were active during the period. The

11

UN Security Council Resolution 1718, 14 Oct. 2006. See e.g. Kile, S. N., ‘Nuclear arms control and non-proliferation', SIPRI Yearbook 2007, pp. 478–83. 13 E.g. on effectiveness of UN Security Council sanctions see Fruchart, D. et al., United Nations Arms Embargoes: Their Impact on Arms Flows and Target Behaviour (SIPRI/Uppsala University: Stockholm/Uppsala, 2007). 12

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Israeli-Palestinian conflict proper attracted four resolutions, none of them under Chapter VII. Three of them expressed support for peace initiatives and the work of the Middle East Quartet and one dealt with the escalation of violence in the Gaza Strip.14 The conflict between Israel and Hezbollah is defined as a separate conflict by UCDP. It was active in one year (2006) and was taken up by the Security Council in four resolutions, the third and fourth being adopted under Chapter VII.15 Thus, the Council reacted strongly to the conflict between Israel and Hezbollah and, in many ways, more sharply than to the Palestinian situation. The Council was apparently more worried about the escalation potential of the former conflict than about the continuing Palestinian situation, despite the latter's volatility.

14.3

State-Based Conflicts and Wars

The UCDP defines a war as a stated-based conflict that results in more than 1000 battle-related deaths in a year; all other stated-based conflicts are classified as minor. Three-quarters of all state-based conflicts in 2003–12 (i.e. 58 of the 76) were minor. This could suggest that they were in a phase where preventive action by the Security Council under Chapter VI could be warranted. Thus, it could be expected that a number of minor conflicts would be dealt with in this softer, but still highly visible way, as a means of preventing their escalation. Only 14 of the minor state-based conflicts in 2003–12 led to a Security Council resolution (see Table 14.1). Among the minor conflicts that did not lead to a resolution were the protracted intrastate conflicts in Algeria, Iran, Nigeria, Peru, the Philippines, Turkey and southern Thailand, and the many local uprisings in India, Myanmar and Pakistan. It goes without saying that many of these conflicts actually do have or could have serious international repercussions. In some other cases there were earlier decisions that authorize some element of Council action, notably on the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict involving Armenia and Azerbaijan. The Security Council adopted resolutions concerning 11 of the 18 state- based conflicts that were at the level of war in at least one of the years in the 10-year period—that is, close to two-thirds of conflicts of this intensity drew such action. This seems to be in line with what would be expected of an organization whose purpose is to protect international peace and security. The more violent a conflict, the more likely that it will spread over borders. Nonetheless, three of the wars—in Nepal, Syria and The first 3 of these are UN Security Council resolutions 1515, 19 Nov. 2003; 1544, 19 May 2004; and 1850, 16 Dec. 2008. The 4th is UN Security Council Resolution 1860, 8 Jan. 2009. The Quartet consists of the UN, the European Union, Russia and the USA. 15 UN Security Council resolutions 1655, 31 Jan. 2006; 1697, 31 July 2006; 1701, 11 Aug. 2006; and 1773, 24 Aug. 2007. Several resolutions adopted during the period concerned the internal situation in Lebanon, as well as the role of the UN Interim Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL) in relation to that situation but did not relate to the particular conflict between Israel and Hezbollah in 2006. 14

14.3

State-Based Conflicts and Wars

275

Yemen—did not draw the highest type of reaction, namely Chapter VII resolutions. In fact, fewer than half of all wars drew Chapter VII resolutions, which is much lower than might be expected. However, this absence of attention does not testify to the type of bias that is often mentioned in the public discussion. The wars that were not attended to by the Security Council were intrastate conflicts over government in Colombia, Pakistan and Uganda, and the territorial intrastate conflicts in Kashmir (India), Chechnya (Russia) and Sri Lanka. The lack of attention to Chechnya may certainly be attributed to the impact of Security Council bias. In this case all actors knew that Russia would not accept it being brought to the Council. The lack of resolutions on the other conflicts, however, cannot be directly attributed to the composition of the Council. Instead, a key consideration is likely to be the attitude of the governments in the respective countries, all of which demonstrated a marked reluctance to ‘internationalize' the issues. Conversely, the rebel movements were more likely to favor international action. This, in turn, is likely to have made the respective government even more hesitant to move in that direction. It should be recalled that the UN is an association of governments and states, not peoples or rebel groups, and is thus often concerned about implications of action in one case to situations that may confront governments elsewhere. This still reveals that all parties pay attention to the Security Council. Whether it acts or not is regarded as an achievement or setback, depending on the perspectives of different actors. Whether the Council discusses a particular matter or not is, in itself, an action. Certainly, once a conflict is on the UN agenda, it will also matter what the UN is actually doing. Those favoring the lowest possible activity will aim for Chapter VI resolutions and, if that is not possible, the weakest form of Chapter VII resolutions. The Security Council is thus a barometer of the prevailing climate in international peacemaking.

14.4

Conflicts with the Most and Least Attention

The number of UN Security Council resolutions adopted can be used as a rough— yet valid—indicator to identify the conflicts that have received the most and the least Council attention. In these terms, the conflict in Côte d’Ivoire received the most attention in 2003–12 (see Table 14.2). With respect to the number of resolutions adopted for each year in which the conflict was active, Liberia received most consideration. However, the conflict in Liberia had been active for several years prior to 2003, which means that the large number of resolutions adopted concerning that country dealt with the aftermath of a protracted conflict, not with a temporary flare-up. The attention paid to Liberia could be also interpreted as a reflection of a new Security Council agenda: peacebuilding. Given its concern about preventing conflicts from recurring, the Council could be expected to take a more long-term perspective in a number of

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Table 14.2 State-based armed conflicts that received most attention from the United Nations Security Council, 2003–12. The table lists the 10 conflicts with the highest total number of Security Council resolutions in the period 2003–12, ordered by number of resolutions. Sources: UCDP Dyadic Dataset v. 1-2013, https://ucdp.uu.se/downloads/; and UN Security Council resolutions, see Table 14.1 Conflict

Number of resolutions in 2003–12

Years active in 2003–12

Resolutions per active year

Côte d’Ivoire Democratic Republic of the Congo Somalia Sudan Liberia US-al-Qaida Afghanistan Iraq Haiti Burundi

49 46

3 4

16.3 11.5

39 39 36 31 24 20 16 13

7 10 1 9 10 9 1 5

5.6 3.9 36.0 3.4 2.4 2.2 16.0 2.6

similar cases, such as Haiti. Indeed, as part of this agenda, the Peacebuilding Commission was created in 2005 with exactly this mandate.16 Six of the conflicts with the most attention in terms of UN Security Council resolutions were located in Africa. Undoubtedly, this is the region that has raised the most concern and draws most UN resources, for instance, in terms of mediation efforts and peace operations.17 An additional three of the conflicts that received the most attention in 2003–12 were connected to the USA’s ‘global war on terrorism’: the USA-al-Qaeda conflict and the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. The US position has been that this is a universal struggle and, thus, resorting to the UN is an important element in its policy of gaining international support. Conflicts in Africa also figure prominently among the situations that received the least Security Council attention (see Table 14.3). With a single resolution, the border conflict between Djibouti and Eritrea was the conflict (among those that received any Security Council attention) that attracted the least attention during the period 2003–12. The conflict in South Sudan (which became independent in 2011) also resulted in a single resolution, but one adopted under Chapter VII. Other conflicts in Africa that are among those that received the least attention include the situations in Chad and Mali. In other words, the Council does not react to conflicts in Africa in a uniform way.

On the establishment of the Peacebuilding Commission see Wiharta, S., ‘Peace-building: the new international focus on Africa', SIPRI Yearbook 2006, pp. 140–143. 17 See e.g. Wiharta, S., ‘The United Nations', eds O. Ismail and E. Sköns, SIPRI, Security Activities of External Actors in Africa (Oxford University Press: Oxford, 2014). 16

14.4

Conflicts with the Most and Least Attention

277

Table 14.3 State-based armed conflicts that received the least attention from the United Nations Security Council, 2003–12. The table lists the 9 conflicts with the lowest total number of Security Council resolutions in the period 2003–12, excluding conflicts that drew no resolution, ordered by number of resolutions. Sources: See previous tables in this chapter Conflict

Number of resolutions in 2003–12

Years active in 2003–12

Resolutions per active year

Djibouti-Eritrea South Sudan Yemen Syria Mali (Azawad) Mali Israel (Palestine) Israel-Hezbollah Chad

1 1 2 3 3 3 4

1 2 4 2 4 1 10

1.0 0.5 0.5 1.5 0.8 3.0 0.4

4 6

1 7

4.0 0.9

It is remarkable that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict—a conflict that has been on the Council’s agenda since the late 1940s, and which was active in every year of the period 2003–12—is the one that received the least attention in terms of adopted resolutions per active conflict year. The priorities of the permanent members of the Security Council may determine which conflicts receive the most attention, and may also help to understand biases in the Council’s concerns. In addition to the role of Russia in Chechnya and the role of the USA in relation to its ‘global war on terrorism' and its historical interest in Liberia, the role of France is worth considering. France may have had equivalent interest in gaining support for actions in francophone Africa: in Chad, the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), Côte d’Ivoire and Mali. At the same time, some of these actions also had broad support in Africa, including from the African Union (AU) and the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS).18

14.5

Geographical Patterns

As just suggested, there is indeed a differentiation in the Security Council’s attention to particular regions, which warrants further scrutiny. There is a propensity to give considerable attention to Africa and also to treat African conflicts under Chapter VII (see Table 14.4). In the period 2003–12, more

On France's security-related policies on Africa see Boulanin, V., ‘France', eds Ismail and Sköns (note 17). 18

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Table 14.4 State-based armed conflicts and United Nations Security Council attention, by region, 2003–12. Number of state-based armed conflicts active in at least one year in this period. Sources: See previous tables in this chapter SC action

Africa

Americas

Asia and Oceania

Europe

Middle East

No Resolution At least one Resolution, but none under Chapter VII At least one Resolution under Chapter VII Total

14 1

2 –

28 1

6 –

1 3

14

2

2

–

3

29

4

30

8

7

than half of the conflicts in Africa (15 of 29) were addressed by the Security Council, all but one under Chapter VII. This can be compared to Asia and Oceania, where the Council adopted resolutions on only 2 of 30 conflicts. Even less such attention has been paid to situations in Europe, where none of the conflicts resulted in a Council resolution during the period. These patterns are perplexing and finding the key explanation may not be simple. Clearly, as discussed below, there are different UN strategies among the permanent members regarding the treatment of conflicts in which they are themselves involved. Russia's role in the conflicts in Chechnya and South Ossetia has meant that these conflicts have been kept off the Security Council's agenda. Conversely, the USA has promoted Security Council activity in the conflicts where it is intimately involved—Afghanistan, the 2003 invasion of Iraq and the subsequent intrastate war there, and the USA-al-Qaeda conflict. This difference in attention across regions is underlined by the fact that these four conflicts, together with the situations in Haiti and Lebanon, are the only ones outside Africa that were addressed under Chapter VII during the 10-year period 2003–12 (Table 14.4).

14.6

Veto Voting Patterns

The five permanent members of the Security Council each has the power to stop a draft resolution from being accepted by voting ‘no'—the veto.19 In the 10-year period 2003–12, the permanent members used their vetoes 19 times, blocking the adoption of 14 draft resolutions. While the veto has been used less frequently since the end of the cold war, there have been no noteworthy variations in its use during the past quarter of a century: on average there are a couple of vetoes every year. Their use does not seem to affect the working climate of the Council on other issues, as the frequency of passed resolutions remains the same. However, the 19

Since a resolution requires the support of 9 of the 15 members of the Council, 7 members could theoretically apply a ‘hidden veto' by voting ‘no' or abstaining. See Chapter 12 in this volume.

14.6

Veto Voting Patterns

279

Table 14.5 Vetoes of United Nations Security Council draft resolutions, 2003–12. Source: United Nations, Dag Hammarskjold Library, ‘Security Council: veto list’, https://research.un.org/ en/docs/sc/quick/ Date

Permanent member

Issue

16 Sep. 2003 14 Oct. 2003 25 Mar. 2004 21 Apr. 2004 5 Oct. 2004

USA

The Middle East situation, including the Palestinian question The Middle East situation, including the Palestinian question The Middle East situation, including the Palestinian question Cyprus (peace plan)a

USA USA Russia USA

The Middle East situation, including the Palestinian question The Middle East situation, including the Palestinian question The Middle East situation, including the Palestinian question Myanmar (human rights) Zimbabwe (political dispute)a

13 July USA 2006 11 Nov. USA 2006 12 Jan. 2007 China, Russia 11 July China, Russia 2008 15 June Russia Georgia (extension of UN observer mission) 2009 18 Feb. USA The Middle East situation, including the Palestinian 2011 question 4 Oct. 2011 China, Russia Syria (intrastate conflict) 4 Feb. 2012 China, Russia Syria (intrastate conflict) 19 July China, Russia Syria (intrastate conflict)a 2012 a These draft resolutions would have been adopted under Chapter VII of the UN Charter

occasional use of a veto may be an important way for a permanent member to declare its willingness to resort to this measure if proposed decisions are too far removed from what it can accept. This means that the possibility of a veto will have profound implicit effects on the drafting of all resolutions, not just on subjects where a veto was cast. Of the 19 vetoes in 2003–12, none were from France or the UK, while 5 were from China and 7 each stemmed from Russia and the USA (see Table 14.5). The patterns are clear-cut. All seven US vetoes were on the Palestinian issue, preventing resolutions criticizing Israel's conduct in this conflict. As noted above, there were four Security Council resolutions on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in the period, but none under Chapter VII. In some cases, the vetoed draft Security Council resolution was

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instead pursued in the General Assembly, using the procedures of the Uniting for Peace resolution.20 The vetoes of China and Russia also exhibit a particular pattern: preventing the Security Council from involving itself in the internal affairs of countries that were largely seen as sympathetic to the permanent member. Thus, China and Russia each used a veto on Myanmar, a veto on Zimbabwe and three vetoes on Syria, all with the argument that the conflicts and disputes in these countries were internal affairs.21 In addition, Russia also vetoed draft resolutions pressuring Cyprus to accept a peace plan and on the extension of the mandate of the UN Observer Mission in Georgia (UNOMIG), which had been established in 1993 in relation to the conflict in Abkhazia. Some vetoes, such as those on Georgia, Myanmar and Zimbabwe, are clearly aimed at keeping the issue off the Council's agenda. In many such cases, the UN is involved in other ways. For example, the UN is part of the Geneva International Discussions on the consequences of the 2008 conflict in Georgia, via the UN Representative to the Geneva International Discussions (UNRGID), appointed by the UN Secretary-General.22 The Secretary-General has also appointed a special representative for Cyprus (who also heads the UN Peacekeeping Force in Cyprus, UNFICYP), a special advisor for Myanmar and a joint UN-League of Arab States special envoy for Syria, but has not created an equivalent post for Zimbabwe. In fact, the UN Secretariat can be engaged in a number of conflicts without having a formal resolution in the Security Council.23 Other vetoes are intended to steer the Council's treatment of a conflict in a desired direction, as it might be difficult to entirely remove the conflict from the agenda. Examples include the Israeli-Palestinian and Syrian conflicts, where draft resolutions are equally frequently rejected and then adopted in a weaker form. For instance, having vetoed the first draft resolution on Syria in October 2011, the Russian Ambassador to the UN, Vitaly Churkin, expressed Russia's alarm ‘that compliance with Security Council resolutions on Libya [earlier in 2011] in the [North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO)] interpretation is a model for the future actions of NATO in implementing the responsibility to protect'.24 However, 20

UN General Assembly Resolution 377, 3 Nov. 1950. This resolution, known as the Uniting for Peace resolution, allows the General Assembly to consider any draft Security Council resolution vetoed by a permanent member. 21 According to the UCDP definition, the situation in Zimbabwe was not a state-based armed conflict, but there were severe tensions in the country. 22 On the Geneva International Discussions see Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe, ‘Press releases related to the Geneva International Discussions', https://www.osce.org/ home/104211. 23 Charter of the United Nations (note 5), Article 99. Private communication with the authors indicates that the UN Department of Political Affairs was involved in c. 60 countries in 2013. 24 United Nations, Security Council, 6627th meeting, S/PV.6627, 4 Oct. 2011, p. 4. On the interpretation of the Security Council resolutions on Libya in 2011 and the responsibility to protect see Evans, G., ‘Responding to atrocities: the new geopolitics of intervention', SIPRI Yearbook 2012, Allansson, M. et al., ‘The first year of the Arab Spring', SIPRI Yearbook 2012, pp. 48–49,

14.6

Veto Voting Patterns

281

the issue did not go away, resulting in a second Russian veto in February 2012 and then the adoption of two resolutions under Chapter VI in April 2012. After once more vetoing a draft resolution in July 2012, this time one that would have invoked Chapter VII, Churkin stated that Russia ‘cannot accept a document, under Chapter VII . . ., that would open the way for the pressure of sanctions and later for external military involvement in Syrian domestic affairs'.25 A weaker resolution, under Chapter VI, was accepted the following day. The Security Council's approach to the Syrian conflict thus clearly changed in response to Russia's vetoes. There are similar stories for the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, where the frequent vetoes (by the USA) are interspersed with the acceptance of resolutions (as happened in e.g. 2003 and 2004). In other cases, a topic does not even make it to a draft resolution because Security Council members know it will be vetoed. For example, no draft resolution was presented to the Council concerning Russia's military incursion into Georgia in 2008, and after the 2009 Russian veto of a proposed extension of UNOMIG, the issue was once more kept off the agenda.26 The predictability of a veto can sometimes be used by countries that support action on an issue in order to make a high-profile statement: by tabling a draft resolution to provoke a public veto by a permanent member that wants to keep the issue off the Council's agenda. The veto power may explain why a number of conflict situations fall outside the Council's purview. It may reflect a reluctance of a permanent member to have certain conflicts on the agenda, either because of its own involvement or because it affects a close ally. However, the opposite is also the case: permanent members may bring the issue to the Council, in the hope that it will strengthen that member's position in the conflict or offer support for an ally. Either way, this reflects an opportunistic view of the use of the Security Council, rather than a principled stand that all threats to international peace and security should be brought to the attention of the Council.

14.7

Conclusions

The 76 state-based armed conflicts that were active in the 10-year period 2003–12 saw varied attention by the United Nations Security Council. As the prime body for the maintenance of international peace and security, the Council could be expected to attend to all these conflicts. But this was not the case: two-thirds of the conflicts did not result in Security Council resolutions. While most of these were classified as

52–54; Fanchini, C., ‘New peace operations in 2011', SIPRI Yearbook 2012, pp. 100–102; and Wezeman, P. D. and Kelly, N., ‘Multilateral arms embargoes', SIPRI Yearbook 2012, pp. 431–434. 25 United Nations, Security Council, 6810th meeting, S/PV.6810, 19 July 2012, p. 8. 26 UN News Centre, ‘Russia vetoes extension of UN mission in Georgia', 15 June 2009, https:// www.un.org/apps/news/story.asp?NewsID=31151.

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minor, many clearly had the potential for escalation. Thus, if a prevention agenda dominated the Council's deliberations, early action in accordance with Chapter VI of the Charter would be expected. This was not the prevalent attitude. There is, however, evidence of a post-conflict peacebuilding agenda, with the Council taking action to prevent the recurrence of a conflict that is no longer active. A typical case in this regard is the conflict in Liberia. The higher the intensity of a conflict, the more likely it is that the Security Council attends to it: 11 of the 18 conflicts that escalated to war resulted in a Security Council resolution. Furthermore, 8 of the wars were the subject of resolutions under Chapter VII of the UN Charter, which means that the Council officially decided that they constituted threats to international peace and security. Remarkably, most of these resolutions concerned conflicts in Africa, although there were highly devastating conflicts elsewhere. At the time of writing, after more than three years, the conflict in Syria still had not been the subject of a Chapter VII resolution. This may strike most observers as highly inconsistent, particularly when considering the volatility of the Middle East region. The difficulties for the Security Council in acting consistently are noteworthy with respect to the Middle East. Many situations there appear difficult, not least those concerning the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Nonetheless, the Council took no action on this conflict under Chapter VII in 2003–12. Some other situations have been determined by the Council to constitute threats to international peace and security, notably the conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq and others that relate to the USA's ‘global war on terrorism'. In this confrontation the USA could build on the unanimity of international reactions in general, and the support of all the other permanent members of the Council in particular. This unity meant that the Council could be used for action. However, in other cases other permanent members chose a different approach, arguing that certain conflicts (although also seen as ‘terrorism') fell within the remit of national sovereignty and should not be subjected to UN action. Russia thus prevented action on Chechnya and used sovereignty arguments to do the same for its conflict with Georgia. Similarly, China and Russia jointly blocked action on Myanmar and Zimbabwe. On the whole, however, the veto has not paralyzed the UN. Despite US vetoes on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, the Security Council was able to pass Chapter VI resolutions, while the General Assembly also took up the issue. On some conflicts where resolutions were vetoed (notably Georgia and Myanmar) the SecretaryGeneral could still appoint representatives or envoys, allowing the UN to pay some attention to the situations. The fact that five states have the right to veto draft resolutions must be continuously scrutinized, no matter how legal it may be. If the membership of the UN finds the use of the veto to be inconsonant with the spirit of the UN or with the challenges that the UN faces, it may resort to alternative means, such as regional organizations, and increase the demands for a reform of the Council's composition.

Part III

War

E

Understanding Causes of War

15

Four Models of Major Power Politics: Geopolitik, Realpolitik, Idealpolitik and Kapitalpolitik

16

Universalism Versus Particularism: On the Limits of Major Power Order

17

What’s in a War? Lessons from a Conflict Data Program

F

Preventing Violent Conflict

18

Dag Hammarskjöld and the Psychology of Conflict Diplomacy

19

International Response to Crises of Democratization in War-Torn Societies

20

Preventing Genocide: The International Response Peter Wallensteen, Erik Melander and Frida Möller

E Understanding Causes of War

The core team of UCDP, February 2015, from left: Erik Melander, Margareta Sollenberg, Therése Pettersson, Samuel Taub, Stina Högbladh and me, in my Department office, Lotta Themnér was on leave. Uppsala. Photo by Marie Allansson, used with permission

Chapter 15

Four Models of Major Power Politics: Geopolitik, Realpolitik, Idealpolitik and Kapitalpolitik Peter Wallensteen

Abstract This article from 1981 organizes some of the main thoughts about interstate relations into four broad categories or models. Some of them have previously had distinct labels, but in this article all of them get identified in parallel ways. Furthermore the concepts are theoretical and abstract but the author shows how they can be measured and become very concrete, particularly with the use of an historical approach.

15.1

The System of States

Traditionally, the study of conflict between states has had two main foci: the state and the individual.1 There are good reasons for both, and research may progress most by concentrating on the interaction between the two. Although there are strong arguments for synthesis, there is also a need for the elements to be clear enough to coalesce. The study of the system of states has still not reached the maturity required for a process of amalgamation. ‘Conflict’ is indeed a loose word, referring to the abstract incompatibility between two parties as well as to actual destructive behaviour. The most pertinent question, then, is: which types of incompatibilities are the most important for giving rise to conflict behaviour between two parties? To this, the following study is devoted, with the states as the actors to be scrutinized. The formulation of the object of study also suggests that conflict, i.e. the incompatibility, can best be understood by examining the relationship between parties. Together, such relationships make a

1

Sections of this text have been presented at the First World Peace Science Congress, Harvard, June 1980; at the Nordic Theory Week, Oslo, August 1980; and at seminars at the Mental Health Research Institute, Ann Arbor and the Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala. Important comments from these presentations have been incorporated. I am also grateful to Klaus Jurgen Gantzel, Björn Hettne, Miroslav Nincic and J. David Singer for valuable suggestions. This text is a part of the original article “Incompatibility, Confrontation and War: Four Models and Three Historical Systems, 1816–1976,” Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 18 (1): 57–90. Republished with permission. © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_15

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system. The system of states, then, is the starting point for the following investigation: which incompatibilities, it is asked, will most likely give rise to conflict behaviour (i.e. war and military confrontations) between which members of a given system? The system of states (or the state system, these notions will be used interchangeably in the following) has some unique features as a social system. Other social systems, such as the system of competing business enterprises or the system of rivalling parties, have some elements in common with the system of states. The totality of the state system is, however, unique. This can be seen when analysing the defining characteristics of the state. In political science, the state is defined as the only authority having legitimate use of physical violence.2 This means, first, that the state system is composed of independent actors. Certainly sovereignty between actors could also be found in other social systems, for instance, between parties competing for power or companies competing for profit. Thus, the independence of the actors is not unique in itself. The uniqueness arises from a combination of sovereignty with other properties of this very system. Independence, however, is often seen as the mark of the international system even to the point where scholars would describe this system as ‘anarchical’.3 Such a description is hardly a valid one, since the concept of ‘anarchical’ carries with it non-analytical connotations of chaos. The system is much more organized than is conveyed by the choice of word. Anarchy would mean that the system is ‘without rulers’, but it is more precise to say that the system has too many rulers. If Greek should be used for describing this system, polyarchical would be a more fitting term.4 The second attribute of the system of states is the one of territorial control. Other systems of independent actors have a different way of relating to territory: companies may close down their plants or move their headquarters, parties may gain or lose support in a given area, humans may move from one community to another, or even from one state to another. The state, however, is stuck to the territory it is controlling. Certainly, the territory can be enlarged or reduced, but if territorial control vanishes, the state vanishes. Exile governments may exist for some time, but only with support of other states. Territoriality, then, is a special characteristic of the state. The inter-state system is organized to the extent borders are clearly defined between different states. This system, in other words, becomes concerned with territorial extension, borders, and defense, in a way no other social system does. The third attribute of the state system is its legitimate control of physical violence. This is the focal point of the political science definition of the state, and 2

The exact formulations may vary and so do the emphases of different authors, but the heart of the matter is similar enough to state that there is a political science consensus on the definition. See, for instance, Lasswell, H. D., Kaplan, A., Power and Society. A Framework for Political Inquiry. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1950, p. 181–185. 3 See, for instance, Kenneth N. Waltz, Man, the State and War. A Theoretical Analysis: New York: Columbia University Press, 1959, Ch. VI. 4 Wallensteen, P., Anarki, konflikt och krig, Tiden, 1979:8.

15.1

The System of States

289

certainly distinguishes the state from all other actors. It has a profound impact on inter-state relations. This can be appreciated if we make the theoretical experiment of equipping competitors with arms: peaceful competition between companies rapidly becomes transformed into ‘wars’, and, as a matter of fact, situations with political parties fighting one another with weapons are normally termed ‘civil wars’. Supposedly the latter are ‘civil’ because they are less professional than ‘military’ wars, and also because they challenge the supreme (military) authority of the state. The state, in other words, is a military actor. Its monopoly control of arms is the ‘normal’ state of affairs, and refusal to accept this will be resisted. States will oppose other actors becoming armed, that is to say, the fight against terrorism, gangsterism, and homicide is crucial. The maintenance of monopoly control of arms internally arises from two different considerations, one being the citizens’ demand for ‘law and order’ (the right of not being robbed), the other the state’s own desire to maintain its monopoly. A fourth attribute of the state system is its economic authority, the state (or its various subdivisions) being the sole legitimate collector of money from the inhabitants (taxes) and from the goods moving across its borders (tariffs). The economic authority historically is not unrelated to the attributes just mentioned. It is costly to hold an army to guard a given territory. Thus, the state has never been ‘outside’ of economics, as some writing on neoclassical economic theory would like to have it. Its military functions have more frequently been integrated into economic theory as a ‘collective good’. Historically, the state has been a very important investor (not only in the military field), controller of monetary flows, and regulator of foreign trade.5 The relatively low state participation in, for instance, the early economic development of the United States, is exceptional rather than typical. Also other actors have economic functions, but political parties rely on voluntary contributions, and companies rely on their ability to sell. Only the state has the authority to demand money from inhabitants. No doubt, its control of physical means simplifies this task. Finally, states—being equipped with the authority to arrest, subjugate, tax, and even kill people—are in need of legitimacy. If the operations of the state were illegitimate, the state would appear to the inhabitants as just another ‘terrorist’. And indeed, even terrorists try to justify their actions with general principles. In order to exert authority and to make people carry out orders (which could be destructive to other human beings) it needs convincing justification. This is not a property unique to the state. All human beings try to give their actions some purpose. The legitimacy of the state, then, becomes exceptional only in combination with the above-mentioned traits. Together these five attributes make the state unique as an actor and the system of states becomes a system without parallel. This does not mean the system cannot be

5

Many political science definitions seem to miss the economic importance of the state. In an evolutionary perspective this becomes an important aspect. See, for instance, Tilly, C. (ed), The Formation of National States in Western Europe, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1975.

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studied, however. There are, as already indicated, partial similarities with other systems, which can provide fertile ground for comparison and evaluation.6 Furthermore, the system can be compared over time, as the system continuously changes. The basic, defining characteristics of the system take different values at different time. Such an historical comparative approach could then be attempted using these concepts.7 Here we will explore the theoretical implications.

15.2

One Assumption and Four Models

Looking more closely at the five attributes, one differs from the others in an important way: the independence of the state. A given piece of territory can be divided between different states, annexed to another state, or constitute a state of its own. States thus emerge through interaction with other states. A large number of the presently existing states are the results of separations, amalgamation, or annexation. Once a given grouping is accepted as a state by other states, it will continuously be moulded by its relations to the others. This process forms its territorial extension, its military and economic strength as well as its legitimacy. The self-preservation of the state, then, appears not only as a requirement to be an actor but also as a goal for the state itself: to preserve the organization as an organization. Actors tend to prefer to remain actors. The overriding concern of the state to remain an actor may contradict other interests favouring, for instance, integration into another state, acceptance of a global economic community, or the joining of a military pact. Different and contradictory forces will come into play, shape the state, or even lead to its cessation: history, indeed, witnesses the demise of entire civilizations. The feeling that no state is eternal might explain the state’s very obsession with its own survival. The perception of threats and dangers, and its interpretation of the unknown as being of shady colour are thus part of the milieu of the state. Primitive fear may be driven away by the hope to attain security, the concept most frequently used to describe the ultimate aim of the state. In the following, the independence of states will be taken for granted, thus focusing the analysis on the other four characteristics outlined. This means excluding the highly important problem of dependence.8 This can only be empirically justified by concentrating on states that are regarded as highly independent from one another: the major powers in the system. It could be debated how 6

For instance, it is possible to compare the various subsystems of a given system by isolating subsystems on grounds of geographic proximity (regions) or military capability (small states). The question of independence, however, enters strongly into this type of comparisons. 7 For this see” Incompatibility, Confrontation and War: Four Models and Three Historical Systems, 1816–1976,” Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 18 (1): 57–90. 8 On the concept of structure, see Wallensteen, Peter. Structure and War: On International Relations, 1920-1968, Stockholm: Rabén & Sjögren, 1973, p. 32.

15.2

One Assumption and Four Models

291

independent these states in fact are. Nevertheless, it appears correct to say that they are the most independent actors in the inter-state system. This means that the question of independence has to be kept in mind when dealing with any of the other relations in the inter-state system. Certainly, interaction between big powers and smaller ones will have dependence as a major concern, at least on the part of the smaller ones. Also, relationships between smaller nations are strongly affected by their links to greater powers in the system.9 A more precise analysis of the four traits is required. It is appropriate to do this by regarding them as the basis for four different analytical models. These models are labeled and presented in Table 15.1. Two labels suggest themselves: Geopolitik and Realpolitik. The former concept was introduced by the Swedish scholar Rudolf Kjellén in 1916, and gained adherence particularly in Germany. It explicitly assumed independence as the basis for the state’s policy vis-à-vis other states, and it was in particular concerned with geographically natural boundaries. Certainly, such considerations had been made before and had even been formalized, but the label remains with Kjellén.10 Realpolitik is also connected with Germany, or to be more precise, Prussia. It was coined by a German journalist, August Ludwig von Rochau, in a book published in 1848 laying down the foundations of power politics. The concept was introduced in order to separate real politics from philosophical speculation. The strong, according to von Rochau, could not accept to be ruled by the weak. Certainly, this idea was not new, but again the label was.11 Both the mentioned authors were mixing analysis and normative statements, aiming not merely at telling the ‘truth’ but at influencing the course of events in certain directions. Both authors, incidentally, were favouring the rise of German power and both scored some success. Geopolitik was undoubtedly an element in Hitler’s thinking on inter-state relations, and Bismarck became more connected to the term Realpolitik than its inventor. Also, one might add, both policies in a long-term perspective ended with disaster, not only for Germany.12 Geopolitik, then, is the politics of territory, resources, and size of the state. Here, Geopolitik will be restricted to the concern with territory, borders, and neighbours. This might dilute some meaning of the concept, but serves to make the analysis more precise. Realpolitik particularly devotes itself to the question of military power. Victory and defeat, uses of military might, alliance patterns, and arms technology are among 9

The question of dependence and war constituted the central theme in op.cit. Kjellén, R., Staten som lifsform, Stockholm 1916, p. 43. See also Whittlesey, D., German Strategy of World Conquest, New York: Farar & Rinehart, 1942, Ch. 5 in general, and p. 71 in particular and Cohen, S. B., Geography and Politics in a World Divided, New York: Oxford University Press, 1973, p. 44. 11 von Rochau, A. L., Grundsätze der Realpolitik, 1857 (2nd ed), cited in Pflantze, O., Bismarck and the Development of Germany, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963, p. 48. 12 Hitler’s links to Geopolitik served to discredit the entire field of political geography, something Whittlesey sought to undo, op. cit. 10

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Table 15.1 Four models of inter-state relations. Basic assumption: preservation of state (security) Geopolitik

Realpolitik

Idealpolitik

Kapitalpolitik

Territorial extension

Military capability

Legitimizing principle

Economic advancement

Core v. periphery Size Location

Major v. minor power Quantity of arms Quality of arms

Legitimate v. non-legitimate Number of believers Closeness to original

Advanced v. backward Volumes Innovation

Conflict expected: 1. Locus Intersection of core areas

Declining majors

Emerging technologies

2. Dyads

Major-major

Emerging principles (Revolution) Old-new

Ordering concept Ranking: 1. Concepts 2. Criteria for ranking

Core-core

Historical turning points (criteria for): 1. Redistribution Territorial Victory/ change defeat between core between states in core majors areas 2. Creation Formation of Emergence new sizeable of new armed states states 3. Disintegration Break-up of Defeat, sizeable core disarmament area states of a major

Old, advanced-new, advancing

Old principle gaining over other old principle

Stagnation of advanced

Emergence of new principle over old one Competing claims to be closest to original

New technologies, Rapid advancement Overdevelopment, Economic crisis, Underdevelopment

its key variables. The state is of primary interest because of its control of military might. This leaves two models, which as of now, lack labels. In order to follow the Germanic language already introduced and indeed linking the thinking to a great German scholar, the concern with economic conditions could be termed Kapitalpolitik. In this analysis, it will orient our work to the development of industry and international commerce.13 Furthermore, the concept of Realpolitik was, by its very inventor, considered the counterpoint to the concept of morals. Above it was argued that legitimacy is needed for the state to operate smoothly. It might even be more important than Realpolitik itself. The principles of legitimacy used for the state, then, are its 13

Das Kapital contained little on inter-state relations, but, of course, underlined the significance of industrialization for inter-class relations.

15.2

One Assumption and Four Models

293

Idealpolitik. The contradictory nature of Idealpolitik is not only that it can be used by the state, but also that it affects the state, as holders of power are shaped by the principles of legitimacy themselves. Indeed, Realpolitik analysts constantly expose the contradictory phenomenon of power-holders refusing to accept the simple dynamics of Realpolitik alone.14 It should be repeated that Table 15.1 uses the state as point of departure. There is little difficulty in isolating other models, which would involve the state, but departing from other elements in the social system. Thus, we could think of, or even normatively prefer, models of Humanpolitik, seeing the human beings as the measure of all, rather than the state, or Ekopolitik, departing from a concern of global environment rather than a given state. However, such global perspectives will still have to come to grips with states that refuse to wither away. Table 15.1 presents systemic aspects of the four models, that is, the approaches they would take to understanding the world, if brought down to their basics. Thus, we assume Geopolitik to be concerned purely with territory, Realpolitik only with military victory, etc. In this ‘pure’ form, each model has to find its own criteria for important decisions such as ranking of states in the system, location of incompatibilities and dyads of conflicts as well as ways of finding historical turning-points. As the models all deal with the same inter-state system, ranking, conflict, and change have to be accounted for. In Table 15.1 concepts have been used in order to polarize the models as much as possible. Certainly, some adherents of one given school would object to some concepts used: geopolitical analysts, for instance, using ‘big power’ as frequently as Realpolitik writers. However, this would tend to obscure significant differences. Our object here is instead to clarify the ‘world’ as seen from the basic ordering concept. Thus, the words used for each model are designed to convey different world perspectives. Each of the dimensions presented in Table 15.1 can be operationalized. To determine the size of the territory of a given state provides relatively little difficulty (although, at certain occasions, the actual control over claimed areas might be disputed). Size is a quantitative criterion, and such criteria are found for other models as well. The second criterion for ranking is of a more qualitative nature and hence, more difficult to grasp. ‘Location’ refers to the Geopolitik theories dividing the world into ‘Heartland’ and ‘Rimland’, thus departing from a notion of an ‘objective’ centre from which the rest of the world can be controlled. Such notions rest on the observation that the world’s fragmented geography makes certain spots more

This prompts a leading Realpolitik scholar like Hans J. Morgenthau to ask for a ‘pathology’ of international politics in order to understand the American policy in Vietnam, without seeing that this undermines the whole idea of power politics as rooted in objective laws of human nature, see Politics among Nations, New York: Knopf, 1973 (5th ed), p. 7. Following a similar line of argument, John C. Stoessinger deplores the Idealpolitik of a series of American presidents: ‘unfortunately the moralist mentality is embedded very deeply in America and seems to come in cycles’, Crusaders and Pragmatists, New York: Norton 1979, p. 289.

14

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important than others, for instance, for transportation. Geopolitik analysts, then, work from a notion of what is central and what is not. An empirical treatment of the question would for instance, look at patterns of communication. Quality in military matters poses the question of military software: military might consists not only of numbers but also of organization, strategy, and relative sophistication of weapons. In the nuclear age, vulnerability has become one indicator of ‘weakness’, but earlier ages may have had similar notions, related to other types of weapons. To try to rank states with respect to Idealpolitik might surprise at the outset, but nevertheless constitutes an important concern for many writers. As each state has to consider its legitimacy, it will also have arguments for its particular legitimacy visà-vis states building on the same principle (e. g., monarchical rule resting on lineage, Communist rule on closeness to Marx), as well as states building on contradictory principles (e. g., monarchies given by God vs. rule by the people, or Communist rule being superior to other types because it expresses the unfolding development of the modes of production) Finally, Kapitalpolitik provides simple measures for innovation, for instance, resources channeled into research and development or share of GDP devoted to productive investments. The four models, however, are not restricted to a procedure of ranking. Our chief concern is their conflict prediction. This leads to the next dimension presented in Table 15.1. The models will all devote themselves to the question of where? and between whom? will incompatibilities exist? The answer to these questions will, furthermore, reveal something of the theoretical underpinnings, the why? of the model. The Geopolitik analyst is particularly concerned with intersections, for instance, between Heartland and Rimland. In particular, this leads to a concern for core states in core areas. Borders are either solutions or causes of conflict. Conflicts are seen as results of ‘outward pushes’ where states try to move their border. This ‘push’ thus becomes a crucial driving force, which incidentally, is often left unanalyzed. It is simply taken for granted, or enhanced by reasoning not necessarily derived from Geopolitik considerations. Core states ‘pushing’ outwards are expected to ‘meet’ other core states, and friction will be the result. The argument points to the ‘risks’ for peripheral states of being neighbors to core states, and in particular, to the ‘necessity’ of neighboring core states to be in constant conflict with one another. The more core states based in one and the same region of the world, the more conflict could be expected.15 The Realpolitik model emphasized military might and primarily expects well-armed states to be concerned with one another: threats to the security of one 15

Often, Geopolitik writers refer to lofty drives of a sort similar to many other writers, but representing different models. Cohen talks about ‘man’s need for large space’, op. cit., p. 40, while Morgenthau states that the ‘drives to live, to propagate and to dominate are common to all men’, op. cit., p. 34, pointing out that zoologists have found the drive to dominate ‘even in animals’ loc. cit., note 5.

15.2

One Assumption and Four Models

295

comes from the weapons of the other. To ‘lag’ behind other majors is, then, highly ‘dangerous’ for a given actor. Such ‘declining’ majors could easily become targets for other majors, who might ‘rush in’ to take their spoils or prevent others from taking too big a share. Major powers, following this line of thought, are in conflict because they are afraid, and, thus, need to react and guard themselves. The driving force is ‘fear’ leading to expansionism to eliminate the perceived threat. At one point or another, the drive to rid oneself of fear becomes a drive for global dominance. Thus, the major powers would be governed by paranoid tendencies, nervously reacting to the moves of others, and interpreting them in the worst possible light.16 Basically, the powers fear defeat. Earlier experience of victory and defeat, then, would have a significant impact on major powers and their behaviour. Idealpolitik reasoning also rests on ‘fear’, but in this case the principle of legitimacy is the means of alleviation. Ideology gives persuasive arguments to the leaders as well as to the led, justifying why some belong to one category and others do not. The just cause gives strength and makes it possible to endure hardship. The ‘fear’ underlying Idealpolitik analysis is the fear of having one principle replaced by another: revolution (also termed counter-revolution, when history is read in a linear fashion, giving room for only one Revolution) is the nightmare. Fundamental revolutions change the patterns of perception, bring new leaders to the forefront, and are seldom restricted only to the country where the revolution takes place. The continuous existence of several leading principles contesting and contradicting each other would thus constitute a major incompatibility, and lead to conflicts in dyads of states supporting contradictory principles.17 Finally, the conflict expectations in the Kapitalpolitik model emphasized technological change; new technologies will replace old ones. This means that new actors emerge, although through a less dramatic process than in Idealpolitik revolutions. The most advanced state, the model suggests, will be conscious in keeping its leadership, simultaneously trying to prevent the competitor from overtaking. Thus, incompatibility exists between old corporations and new ones, between old professions and new ones, and consequently, between states advancing on new technologies over states relying on old. Again the driving force could be fear, but

The obsession with ‘threat’ certainly differentiates the military world from the civilian one. Also, the more power possessed by a given actor, the more threats there appear to be. Thus, both the United States and the Soviet Union eagerly watch the moves of the other party, constantly fearing the worst. Thus, the most powerful are the fearful. Such Realpolitik paranoia can be reinforced by Idealpolitik considerations: Stalin, being the most powerful man in the Soviet Union, appears to have lived in constant fear of intrigues stimulated by his own interpretation of Marxism as well as his power position. 17 Interesting contradictions can emerge between a universalist ideology and an actor having less than universal influence: either ideologies have to adapt to the actors to which they apply (notably, the formulation of ‘Socialism in One State’ when no further Revolutions occurred after 1917), or the contradiction can be ‘solved’ by expansionism, aiming at making the message universally applicable. The latter certainly was in the minds of personalities as diverse as Mohammed and Napoleon. 16

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more likely a fear linked to profits or benefits in monetary terms rather than the simple zero-sum-game of Realpolitik.18 Taken together, the four models point to change as the most important factor in conflict. Rising states are expected to contradict leading ones; advanced ones are expected to exploit the declining ones. Strength comes from different sources, being the vast territory in the case of Geopolitik (but, the sceptic could wonder, would not vast territory lead to satisfaction, rather than a ‘push outward’?), the fear of becoming vulnerable to defeat for Realpolitik (but, the same opponent might ask, the more invulnerable one, the more fear for the other?), the danger of being replaced by an illegitimate order for Idealpolitik (but perhaps all orders are equally legitimate or illegitimate?), and the possible loss of leadership in the case of Kapitalpolitik (whatever the cost/benefit calculus of leading is?). Change and dynamics, looking ahead rather than looking back, directs the course of the system. The models, consequently, should be suitable for describing change and this is what Table 15.1 captures in its third dimension. Change takes primarily three forms for the high-ranked states in the system: redistribution (or reallocations) between them, creation of new high-ranked states, and disintegration of older ones. The system, then, is thought to change when the relationships between the high-ranked states change. The four models suggest highly different criteria for observing such change, ranging from territorial redistribution via military victory to revolution or economic crisis. These criteria primarily locate disruption, rather than ‘stability’ between points in time. Thus, change creates new conditions on which policies have to be formed, but the actual description of a new situation is not readily given by the models. ‘Stability’, from this perspective, is nothing but non-change. This very ‘stability’ is what is here termed the structural characteristics of the system. We have also argued that different structural conditions give rise to different policies. In this article, however, we concentrate on structure rather than policy.

15.3

Three State Systems in 160 Years

The Correlates of War project at the University of Michigan provides information for inter-state relations since 1816. As this text uses the project’s data as its basis, some reflections on the 160 years up to 1976 are necessary. The project has mostly treated the entire period as one temporal unit, or as one global system of states. It could be argued, however, departing from the four models, that this span of time actually exhibits some dramatic changes not easily accounted for in such an 18

It could, of course, be debated whether well paid top executives in corporations or ministries actually strive to maximize their monetary returns. Perhaps they should be regarded as ‘barons’ rather than ‘robbers’ as E. J. Hobsbawn suggests when describing early American capitalists: they were maximizing power and building empires. The discussion would apply equally well to the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, where, nominally, the ‘robbers’ have been abolished. See, The Age of Capital, New York: New American Library, 1979, p. 157.

15.3

Three State Systems in 160 Years

297

analysis. Concentrating on the leading states in the system, the system would change when these states change in some important respect. But this then presupposes a definition of ‘leading state’, which in turn can only be determined after we have defined the extent of the system, temporally as well as socially. Thus, all tasks become interrelated. COW has solved this problem by resorting to scholarly consensus. This results in the listing of nine ‘major powers’ (COW’s terminology) for the entire period.19 Only three of these are majors for the whole period (England, France and Russia/ USSR, although with shorter breaks for the two latter), while two appear in 1816 but later drop out (Austria-Hungary, Prussia/Germany), two enter after 1816 but leave well before 1976 (Italy, Japan), and two enter late and remain in 1976 (United States, China). Thus, there is considerable temporal variation of major powers. The scholarly consensus reported by COW provides a fruitful point of departure in discussing state systems since 1816. Such a discussion can be pursued in the categories provided by the four models of Table 15.1. First, in order to define a state as a major, it needs to qualify as an actor: that is, have a certain internal stability and international recognition as an actor. This, one could assume, is the reason for the project to include China only from 1949, when the victory of the Communist Party provided unity to the country and, thus, could make it an actor in inter-state relations. Similarly, the unification of Italy in 1861 makes that country an actor. Secondly, however, there is a need for additional criteria in order to separate ‘normal’ actors from ‘leading’ ones. This is where the criteria for ranking become important, and also where fruitful discrepancies emerge between scholarly consensus and empirical indicators. For instance, it is generally agreed that the United States should be included as a major power from 1898. But by the Geopolitik criterion of territory, the USA by 1816 was already larger than many of the majors. Also, by a Realpolitik indicator, such as arms expenditure, the USA passes other majors for a good part of the period before 1898. Furthermore, idealpolitically the perception of ‘freedom’ in America had a strong appeal in European countries throughout the 19th century, and America was, by many European regimes, regarded as the most revolutionary of all states. Finally, by the Kapitalpolitik measure of iron production, the United States out-distanced Austria and Prussia already by 1816, and during the 1800’s by-passed the other majors one by one, finally even the United Kingdom by 1890. Does this mean, then, that the scholars have missed such an important phenomenon as the United States? Probably not. Rather, they would argue that United States was of no significance in the whole state system but held a regional role. Thus, the United States could act as a strong state in the Western Hemisphere and in

19

Singer, J. D. and Small, M., The Wages of War. A Statistical Handbook, New York: John Wiley & Sons: New York, 1972, p. 23. The conception of ‘world systems’, which does not cover the entire geographical ‘world’ was introduced by Wallerstein, I., The Modern World-System. New York, Academic Press, 1974, and the view of ‘regions’ as not confined to continents by Russett, B. M., International Regions and the International System, Chicago: Rand McNally, 1967.

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the Pacific, but this would not involve it in contradictions with Europe-based leading countries. In some ways, the United States was outside the dominant system. This is to propose that the entire state system of the 1800’s consisted of several regionally confined systems only loosely tied together.20 One is the European region, from a global perspective a small one, highly populated, and divided into a large number of states. Europe, furthermore, is the center of a network reaching not only Northern Africa, and the Middle East, but Southern Asia as well. A second region is the Americas, less populated, more spacious and with a colonial heritage built on the destruction of all indigenous state organization. Eastern Asia could be seen as a third region, including China, Indochina, and adjacent islands (Japan and Taiwan). Finally, at the outset of the period of investigation (1816) most of Africa is a system on its own. As can be seen these delimitations are not geographical, but account for social links and could be more closely determined by the use of the four models. The leading region during the 19th century is undoubtedly the first one, the only one reaching out of its own geographical confines. The 1800’s witness the continuous expansion of the Euro-centric region into the others, notably Africa, but also Eastern Asia. Challenges against Europe do not emerge until the end of the century, when Japan and the United States gradually emerge as rivals in Real- as well as Kapitalpolitik terms. The historical evaluation points to a change in the system by the 1890’s: the United States and Japan both begin to build empires in much the same way as the Europeans, bringing themselves into interaction with these very European nations. The inter-state system thus gradually transforms itself from a Euro-dominated world to an inter-regional one, where geographical territory is disputed between countries not necessarily European. If this holds true, it means that we would expect less discrepancy between the historian’s rank order and those of the objective criteria for the period following 1920. The countries with the largest iron and steel production in the 1920’s and the 1930’s are the United States, Germany, the United Kingdom, France, the Soviet Union, Italy, and Japan — all appearing on the scholarly list as major powers. These same countries are those spending most on armaments, thus indicating that our reasoning is correct. New discrepancies emerge, however, following 1945. The scholarly consensus reported by the COW project gives five major powers, but three of these are out-distanced by non-majors on at least one measure: Both Japan and West Germany have by 1970 a greater iron and steel production than the United Kingdom, France, and China. Further, West Germany has, at times, greater military expenditures than France and the United Kingdom. On most measures of Geo-, Kapital-, and Realpolitik origin, however, the United States and the Soviet Union appear in a category of their own. Thus, these two powers, also leading in

20

Also historians have emphasized this change, notably Barraclough, G., An Introduction to Contemporary History, Pelican, 1979, who, however, sees no significant shift around 1945.

15.3

Three State Systems in 160 Years

299

Idealpolitik for parts of the world, undoubtedly qualify as dominant states. The others, however, are either more regionally significant (for instance, UK, France, and China) or more sectorially significant (for instance, Japan and West Germany, with respect to Kapitalpolitik). These five states in other words, appear on a lower level than the two first mentioned. Taking this together, however, the post-1945 period could best be described as a global system: the two leading states could operate globally, their influence not being confined to clear geographical regions or to certain sectors only. This means that, using changes in composition and relative weight among major states as the criteria, the epoch stretching from 1816 to 1976 could be conceived of as three consecutive state systems: 1. The Euro-centric system lasting from 1816 to 1895 with the regions of the world separated, although one region being more important. 2. The inter-regional system, witnessing increased interaction between the regions, but still with discernable differences between arenas of military action. This period covers the years 1896–1944. 3. The global period, with two global powers and a set of regionally significant ones: 1945 to present. As this encompasses the entire epoch of 1816–1976 we have four time-points, which are regarded as major shifts. These are the years 1816, 1895/1896, 1944/ 1945, and 1976. The first as well as the last of these appear less important than the other two, and they are justified on other grounds than our four models. 1976 is a date of convenience. In retrospect, it might turn out as a date of significance, although not reshaping the entire system, at least marking a change in relations between global powers. The year of 1816 could perhaps be replaced by an earlier date, for instance 1789 or even 1648, if the study were to encompass the entire history of the system of states. However, the relative stability achieved in 1816 included traits of the four models, thus making that year a significant enough turning-point, and leaving a time-span sufficiently long for an analysis of the Euro-centric state system. The turning-point 1895/1896 is arrived at through the following considerations: Geopolitically, it meant the introduction of new arenas of contention among the majors (e. g. East Asia), realpolitically, the emergence of two new major powers and, idealpolitically, the rise of anti-European Nationalism (Japan). Finally, around 1895 there were significant Kapitalpolitik changes, notably the United States by-passing the United Kingdom as the most important producer of iron and steel, and the high degree of industrialization achieved among most of the majors (see Footnote 19). The years 1944/1945 mark a turning-point for reasons parallel to those of 1895/ 1896. Geopolitically, the outcome of the Second World War meant the end of Europe as an independent region, realpolitically, the emergence of two major contenders with new formidable weapons, idealpolitically, the rise of a combined

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universalist-nationalist contradiction, and, kapitalpolitically, industrialization reaching new heights, at least among the already industrialized major powers. The purpose of separating the epoch 1816–1976 into three distinct periods is to achieve comparability. The way the distinctions have been made suggests that patterns of conflict, confrontation, and war would be different between the three periods. This provides a basis for further analysis of how conflict emerges in the international system, as well as how conflicts can be prevented. The distinction beteween “universalism” and “particularism” is one such result.21

See Chapter 16 in this volume, republishing Wallensteen, Peter 1984. “Universalism vs. Particularism. On the Limits of Major Power Order,” Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 21 (3): 243– 257.

21

Chapter 16

Universalism Versus Particularism: On the Limits of Major Power Order Peter Wallensteen

Abstract The relationship between major powers is central for global peace and security. In this article from 1984 Peter Wallensteen categorizes their relations in terms of universalism, where they display rules of conduct among themselves, and particularism, where they emphasize their own interests even as it disrupts existing arrangements. Building on information from the Correlates of War project covering wars since 1816, the article shows a close connection between particularism and wars between the major powers. The article also raises the issue of shifts between different types of relationships.

16.1

Universalism Versus Particularism

Autonomy has been a most cherished value for major powers throughout history.1 It has been a motivating force for smaller powers to free themselves from the influence of others. Liberation has been the ambition of revolutionaries. Still, at no time has autonomy been more restrained than today, even for the major powers. Nuclear threats and strategic doctrines link even the most powerful to one another and restrict the space for independent action. In spite of nuclear vulnerability, major powers can pursue policies to further their Particularist interest as witnessed in Eastern Europe, West Asia or Central America. Also, they may pursue policies of Universalist application, taking into account legitimate interests of others as witnessed during the period of détente. In this sense, nothing is new. Similar options have always been available to major powers, and, at some period in time,

1

This work is part of an ongoing project on Armed Conflicts and Durable Conflict Resolution, at the Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University. Valuable comments have been made by many readers of an earlier draft, notably Nils Petter Gleditsch, Miroslav Nincic, Melvin Small, and Raimo Väyrynen, as well as by students in my seminar on War and World Politics, University of Michigan, winter 1984. This text was originally published as Wallensteen, Peter 1984. “Universalism versus Particularism. On the Limits of Major Power Order,” Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 21 (3): 243–257. Reprinted with permission. © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_16

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Universalism has been preferred to Particularism. This study analyses experiences of major power Universalism as opposed to Particularism: what has historically been the difference, what has been the result, why have policies shifted and which lessons can be drawn? Universalist policies are understood to be concerted efforts among major powers to organize relations between themselves to work out acceptable rules of behavior (general standards). Particularist policies, in contrast, are understood to be policies which emphasize the special interest of a given power, even at the price of disrupting existing organizations or power relationship.2 In the first case, the aim is order, but this is not to say that order is the result or that disorder necessarily follows from the other. On the contrary, some would argue that the pursuit of self-interest is creating more order than is altruism, as it redirects imbalances in power distribution and makes possible the voicing of grievances. Thus, it is for the historical record to decide whether Universalism or Particularism results in war. This formulation of the problem is hardly novel or original, but still there have been few efforts to systematically compare the outcome of the different set of policies. Under the concept of world order fruitful incursions into the area have been made by the Institute for World Order, as well as by scholars like Stanley Hoffmann.3 The conceptions might be different, but mostly they point in a similar direction: world order policies aim at including more than the Particularistic interest of a given actor as the actor's goals. There is, in other words, a more Universalistic ambition. Apart from preserving the actor itself as an actor, there is also an understanding of the demands and worries of the opponent. Obviously, the structural framework in which such globalistic policies are carried out differ; the Institute for World Order in general wants to go beyond the nation-state, and develop policies more fitting for local (“smaller”) actors, whereas the Hoffmann conception clearly focuses on the role of the major powers. Here it suffices to note that the structure of the global system makes it necessary to point to the significance of the major powers and their mutual relations. It is also evident that mutual relations between these powers tend to undergo dramatic shifts and changes, swinging between more Universalistic and more Particularistic emphases. Thus, major powers pursuing Universalistic policies would, for some, be world order policies. For others, this might still be unsatisfactory if the basic question is policies by whom? It is self-evident that there are limits to Universalism of the major powers. 2

Universalism and Particularism as defined by Parsons focuses on norms rather than actions. Still the concepts are useful as they point to the general rather than the specific as the center of attention (see Parsons and Shils 1951, p. 82). 3 Most definitions of world order are multidimensional. Falk and Mendlovitz find world order to be the answer to questions of worldwide economic welfare, social justice, ecological stability as well as to reduction of international violence (Falk and Mendlovitz 1973, p. 6). A broad and most stimulating contribution is Falk (1975). Hoffman (1980, p. 188) also gives a very broad definition of the concept of world order, as a state in which violence and economic disruptions have been 'tamed', 'moderation' has emerged, economies progress and collective institutions act. The concept of Common Security, introduced in the Palme Commission, involved a conception similar to the one of Hoffmann (see Common Security 1982).

16.1

Universalism Versus Particularism

303

Their status as major is not to be threatened. On the contrary it constitutes the postulate of their policies. Thus, at some point, the divergent definitions of world order also become incompatible, boiling down to the question of whether, in the long-run, major powers are to remain majors or not. Individual actors can have individual orders of preference and priorities can change over time. However, we are interested in the collectivity of major powers. General standards are general only to the extent they have support from many actors. Major powers are significant in setting such standards and in achieving adherence to them. Thus, if a collectivity of major powers, tacitly or openly, sets up certain rules of behavior and applies them consistently over time, this will have an effect beyond the collectivity. If, on the contrary, there are no such agreed rules, Particularism is likely to become a predominant pattern. Here the focus is on comparing periods of collective major power Universalism, and on contrasting them to periods of predominant Particularism. Historical experiences of Universalism can give insight into useful methods, but also into the limits of such efforts. The study of Particularism might yield knowledge of legitimate dissatisfaction with existing arrangements. If a given—formal or informal— collective arrangement constantly works to the advantage of some and to the disadvantage of others, the arrangement itself becomes questioned.

16.2

Identifying Universalism and Particularism

Since the Napoleonic era, there have been several serious attempts at creating Universalist relations among major powers. These attempts, initiated by major powers, have built on the consent of all or most major powers. They have sometimes been constructed around particular organizations (such as the League of Nations) or around more informal arrangements (such as the Concert of Europe). Common to them is the ambition to develop general rules of behavior among the major powers, and attempts to reconcile differences so as to maintain the consensus among the involved powers. Thus, what historians refer to as periods of concerts, orders, or détente, is what we here label Universalism. Such periods are delimited on two grounds. First, there has to be a certain consistency and continuity in the policies pursued by the major powers within the particular period. Secondly, there has to be a marked difference (qualitative break) between these policies and those in the following period. The analysis, in other words, has a double task: to find the consistent elements within a given period and to find the important factors contributing to the qualitative change in relations. Table 16.1 reproduces eight periods of Universalist and Particularist policies among major powers since the Napoleonic age. The periodization is drawn from customary historical writing. The organizing principle is that of policy. The periods are separated with respect to the existence or non-existence of a consistent effort

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Table 16.1 Universalism and particularism, 1816–1976. Periodization of relations among major powers. Source: Major Power definitions follow the Correlates of War practice. (See Small and Singer 1982, pp. 44–45) Analytical classification

Historical labeling

Time period

No. of years

No. of majors

Universalist Particularist Universalist Particularist Universalist Particularist Particularist Universalist

Concert of Europe

1816–1848 1849–1870 1871–1895 1896–1918 1919–1932 1933–1944 1945–1962 1963–1976

33 22 25 23 14 12 18 14

5–6 5–6 6 8 7 7 5 5

Bismarck's order League of Nations Cold War Deténte/Peaceful Coexistence

among the major powers to pursue Universalist ambitions. These periods are our units of analysis in the following.4 Table 16.1 gives some characteristics of each of the periods, at the same time explaining the various delimitations. However, some comments are necessary. The European Concert of 1816–1848 is recognized by historians as a period of its own, centered on the activities of the Austrian Chancellor Metternich, but involving all the major European powers. The revolutions of 1848, rather than those of 1830, are seen to mean the ending of this period. The following period was one exhibiting many of the marks of Particularism, as we have defined it. Several countries were, in this period, pursuing more limited ambitions (notably unification and aggrandizement). Thus, in the writings of historians, also this period stands out clearly. The following two periods are more difficult to separate. Bismarck's policy had a Universalist coloring, where the definition of Germany's interest was not equated with the expansion of the Reich, but rather the establishment of a workable relationship, cementing what had already been gained. Germany, then, was a central force in this attempt at Universalist construction. Following the downfall of Bismarck, and the rise of a more daring political leadership in Germany, the situation changed during the 1890s. The exact dating might be hard to pinpoint, but the difference is there. Here it has been set as 1895, but that is an approximation. It should be noted that also other, non-European countries, at this time, began to pursue Particularistic interests (United States and Japan). The organization created after the First World War was a more conscious attempt to work out constructive relations among the majors, this time centering on France and Britain. However, the Universalism was incomplete, a great number of countries were not involved or

4

Thus we attempt to describe dominant traits in the major power relations during these periods. A most interesting contribution in the same direction is Rosecrance (1963). Recently, the interest in long waves has resulted in similar generalizations for particular periods, mostly focusing economic variables. A contribution pertinent to the present discussion is Väyrynen (1983).

16.2

Identifying Universalism and Particularism

305

supportive of these attempts, and with Hitler's taking of power in 1933, the arrangement rapidly fell apart. Finally, following the Second World War, the alliance between the victors, containing a potential for Universalist relations, was quickly changed into a severe confrontation. Not until after the Cuban missile crisis did a period of more constructive relations emerge. This means that our analysis will concentrate on eight periods, four of each type. It is interesting to note, from Table 16.1, that there is more consensus among historians on the labelling of periods of Universalism. The Particularist periods are not dominated by one overarching ambition, and consequently, the naming becomes problematic. There is, however, one exception to that, the period 1945– 1962. The bipolarization of the confrontation between the United States and the Soviet Union has given it one customary label. Universalism in this bipolar world has, however, attracted two different conceptions, suggesting that there might, at this time, be more agreement about conflict than about collaboration. The fact that the periods in general appear to become shorter, and, that the Universalist periods are smaller relative to the Particularist ones, might be indicative of a general rise in confrontation among major powers. The development of conflict behavior in the different periods can be seen more closely in Table 16.2. Table 16.2 shows a different pattern for the two sets of policies. There are no major-major wars reported in the periods of Universalism, whereas all the major-major wars are to be found in periods of Particularism. This observation should be treated cautiously, however, as it could be affected by the labelling. Historians might be quicker to find an orderly pattern in periods without major power wars, and thus we would face a tautology. It might, however, also suggest that Universalist policies are successful, at least with respect to major power relations. As the ambition is to develop constructive relations, and as a dominant group among the majors agree on this, major power war could be avoided. An indication is that no periods of Universalism end with the outbreak of a major power war. Rather, such wars come way into a period of Particularism.5 Furthermore, it could be noted in Table 16.2 that there is some conflict behavior recorded in all other categories. One third of all major power confrontations have taken place in periods of Universalism. This might mean that such periods have witnessed a somewhat greater ability to cope with confrontation than have periods of Particularism: none escalated into a major war. With respect to major-minor confrontations, fewer escalated into war in periods of Universalism than in periods of Particularism. The ratio of wars to confrontation (a rough measure of escalation) for all categories shows a lower frequency of war per confrontation in periods of Universalism. This reinforces, although does not prove, the thesis that major power policies have a significant bearing on the chances for war. If such relations are couched in a cooperative, constructive fashion, the danger of war might decrease.

5

This distinction, built on the basic arguments in different schools of thinking, is elaborated in Wallensteen (1981), i.e. Chapter 15 in this volume.

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Table 16.2 Wars and military confrontations involving major powers, in universalist and particularist periods, 1816–1976. Source: Wars: Small and Singer (1982). Military Confrontations: Data from the Correlates of War project, 1980 Major-Major Wars Major-Minor Wars Major-Major Confrontations Major-Minor Confrontations, Period lengths, years Average No. of Wars and Confrontations Per year Ratio, Wars to Confrontations,

Universalist periods

Particularist periods

0 10 24 72 86 1.2

10 16 49 84 74 2.1

1:9.6

1:5.1

Many of the typical structural traits that often are pointed to in order to explain differences will not help in discriminating between these periods; often the same countries found themselves involved in both. The five states making up the Concert of Europe are also those involved in the following, more tumultuous period. Similarly, the countries setting up the League in 1919 are also those confronted with German challenges in the 1930s. The actors of the global competition after World War II, from 1963 onward, attempted to work out an orderly relationship. Thus, it appears more promising to relate such changes to short-term variations rather than to lasting properties of the global system. Let us only note that as none of the four periods of Universalism have lasted, but all have been transformed into periods of Particularism, the inadequacies of the policies pursued need to be specified. The shifts and changes obviously give food for thought to the pessimist as well as to the optimist: no period of Universalism has lasted, but neither has a period of Particularism.

16.3

Universalism and Particularism in Practice

The strongly different outcomes of periods of Universalism and Particularism make a closer scrutiny important. Thus, we ask what the differences in policy consist of. The eight periods of major power relations differ from one another in many ways. The economic conditions, the reach of weapons, the speed of communication, and the ideological framework have greatly changed over time. Thus, the periods are comparable in some respects but not in others. A comparison over time becomes less comprehensive the longer the time span applied. In this case, it means that considerable detail is lost in the search for general phenomena. Still, a general observation, such as the shifts in the predominant pattern of policy, could be expected to be associated with a general explanation. In this light we attempt to search for discriminating patterns of policies in some admittedly limited, but still crucial areas.

16.3

Universalism and Particularism in Practice

307

First, Table 16.2 suggests a difference in symmetric and asymmetric relations: major powers might approach one another differently from how they approach non-majors at the same time. Thus, we will compare the experiences of Universalism and Particularism in both these relationships. Second, the analysis employs a framework of four sets of policy, introduced in earlier work: Geopolitik, Realpolitik, Idealpolitik and Kapitalpolitik.6 Geopolitik is, in particular, concerned with the geographical conditions: contiguity and ways to handle contiguity, as well as control over distant (from the point of view of core countries) territories. Realpolitik emphasizes military capability, arms build-up of particular countries and the formation of alliances. Idealpolitik concerns the handling of nationalistic or ideological disputes, ranging from messianism to neutrality with respect to such issues, whereas Kapitalpolitik refers to the economic capabilities and interactions among states. The difference between the two patterns in Geopolitik terms can be seen in the different policies pursued in the “core” areas, in territories particularly close or militarily significant to the major powers. During several periods of Universalism, conscious attempts were made to separate the parties geographically, thus attempting to reduce the fear of attack or the danger of provocation. The creation of buffer zones was a particularly pronounced effort, for instance, in relation to France after 1814 or Germany after 1918. In times of Particularism, policies were reversed: the buffer zones were perceived as dangerous areas of “vacuum”, making majors compete for control. Examples are the Prussian expansion into Central Europe in the 1850s and the 1860s and Germany's invasion of demilitarized zones or neighboring countries during the 1930s. Also, following the Second World War, the United States as well as the Soviet Union tried to secure as much territory as possible before and after the German and Japanese capitulations. Indeed, in the 1945–1962 period, 'free' territory was equally disliked on both sides, neither being willing to accept neutrality or neutralism, for instance. In the periods 1870–1895 and 1963–1975 such basic arrangements were left intact, keeping the parties at close geographical confrontation, but at the same time other measures were instituted to somewhat reduce the fear of attack from the opponent (e.g. confidencebuilding measures in the latter period). Compared to earlier experiences of Universalism, these periods saw less of such attempts, however.7

6

Such wars have come at earliest in the sixth year of Particularist policy: the Crimean War in 1854, the Russo-Japanese War in 1938 (Changkufeng War) and the Korean War in 1950, all within this range, the Russo-Japanese war of 1904 being somewhat later. This list, furthermore, suggests that such first major-major wars occur in areas fairly distant from the main major power area of contention (at all these times being Europe). For data, see Small and Singer (1982). 7 The lack of disengagement in German-French relations following the war of 1871 is often pointed to by historians. The annexation of Alsace-Lorraine became a humiliating experience for the French, although the military value of the area to either party could be disputed. Thus, no buffers were created between the two, making the relations tense. A result of this was the War Scare of 1875. See Kennan (1979, pp. 11–23). For a general discussion, see Patem (1983).

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Looking at the major-minor relations, the patterns are less clear-cut. Although the expectation might be for 'softer' attitudes during periods of Universalism, this appears not to be born out. Rather, during periods of Universalism, major powers tried to establish or extend control, as in periods of Particularism. Perhaps there is a discernable trend of greater major power collaboration during the former than during the latter. Thus, the colonization of Africa took place largely during a period of Universalism, and partly this process was mutually agreed on by the major powers themselves (notably the Berlin Congress in 1884–1885). Similarly, British and French controls were extended into Arab countries during such periods, during the 1880s as well as in the 1920s. It is, furthermore, interesting to observe that the decolonization process was initiated during a period of confrontation between the major powers. The peak year of African independence, 1960, coincided with particularly tense times in American-Soviet relations (e.g. the aborted Paris summit meeting and the U-2 affair). Realpolitik concerns itself with military power and alliance patterns. In periods of Universalism, we would expect less emphasis to be put on military armaments, while greater efforts would go into diplomatic means to work out major power relations. Studying the four periods, this is clearly true for three, but not for the fourth one (1963–1976). Conversely, the periods of Particularist policies would exhibit a more rapid arms build-up among the majors. Again, this is true for three out of four periods, the exception being the 1849–1870 period. Partly, this might reflect an important inter-century difference: during the 19th century, the institutionalized pressures for arms build-up did not exist to the same degree that has been true for the 20th century. With respect to the nuclear age, the patterns are somewhat surprising. In terms of military expenditures, the increase seems less striking during the 1950s than during the 1960s or 1970s, for the United States and the Soviet Union. In terms of the amassing of nuclear arsenals, however, there is a continuous increase for both sides.8 Again, the 1963–1976 period does not follow the pattern of previous Universalist periods. Most periods of Universalism seem associated with a loose alliance system. The exception is the 1963–1976 period, but also in this period there are some elements of a loosening-up of the system (notably the withdrawal of France from military cooperation in NATO, and Romania taking a special position within the Warsaw Pact). However, also Particularism could go well with a loose alliance pattern, as alliances might restrain rather than give freedom to a given actor. Three periods of Particularism showed fairly tight alliance patterns, but in one of these (1933–1945) not all powers were involved in the alliance configurations. In one, the 1849–1870 period, loose alliances served the Particularist ambitions well. There is an interesting tradeoff between alliance patterns and arms build-up. In a sense, one reason for entering into an alliance is to reduce the need for armaments. 8

For an overview of the development of arms expenditure for these periods, see Nincic (1982). For an overview of the nuclear arsenals, drawn from several sources, see Botnen (1983) and SIPRI (1983). The total nuclear arsenals are estimated at 1000 in 1952, 23,500 in 1960, 35,500 in 1970 and 48,800 in 1975.

16.3

Universalism and Particularism in Practice

309

In this way, a major power can increase its military strength, at a lower cost and at a faster rate than otherwise would have been possible. This, then, favors the emergence of loose alliance patterns, and thus makes it plausible that Universalism as well as Particularism might be associated with such a pattern. On the other hand, if the alliances are closely knit, and the option of withdrawing or switching is not available, the only way to increase the strength for a given actor and for the alliance as a whole is through arms build-ups. Thus, in bipolarized situations with “permanent” alliances, arms races become a more likely outcome. The few examples available of such situations indeed suggest this to be the case (1895–1918, 1933–1945 and the post-1945 periods). Armaments and alliance patterns largely concern the relations between major powers. We would expect Realpolitik policies in major-minor relations to be less different for the two patterns. Thus, it is noteworthy that, in Table 16.2, Universalist periods have also been periods of extensive major power involvement in major-minor disputes. If we take into account the length of the periods and the number of majors, we find that the majors, in fact, during such periods are heavily concerned with minors. With respect to Idealpolitik, Universalist policies would be less chauvinistic and less messianic among majors than Particularism. Earlier it has been demonstrated that Idealpolitik contradictions correlate with wars and confrontations among major powers for the entire epoch (Wallensteen 1981), but we now expect a pattern of shifting periods. It is probably enough to have one major displaying messianism in a given period to upset all relations. This expectation is well borne out: the four Universalist periods show very little of either of these types of Idealpolitik, whereas, in each of the four Particularist periods, there was at least one major power pursuing such a policy. Chauvinism certainly was part of the German unification policy during Bismarck, as was French renaissance during Napoleon III, both appearing in the same 1849–1870 period. The policies of Wilhelm II and of Hitler are typical examples. In the 1945–1962 period too there was a strong element of messianism, for very different reasons than previous ones, in Soviet as well as American postures. In their relations to minor powers, the majors have often been less constrained, also in times of Universalism. Thus, in the Concert of Europe period, majors did not hesitate to intervene against changes in minor countries going against the convictions held by the major. In the 1870–1895 period, this might have been less marked, as this to a large degree was a period of parallel nationalism, as well as in the period of the League of Nations. In the détente period, however, the reluctance among the majors to accept dissent within areas of their domination has drawn increasing tension, also among the majors. Thus, the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia significantly affected the formulation of détente policies. The American warfare in Vietnam seems to have slowed down the pace of collaboration between the two superpowers. A policy of coexistence between the majors also might require the acceptance of coexistence between different social forms in major-minor relations. As to Kapitalpolitik patterns, there are some interesting divergences, necessitating a lengthier discussion. Universalism would here refer to a policy that attempts

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to be more inclusive, such as setting up of a joint international regime for economic affairs, or extending trade, investment or capital flows in an equitable way among the major powers. Particularist policies, on the contrary, would be those that aim at self-reliance, autarchy or exclusion from ties with other countries. Taken in this way, there seems to be little relationship between the Universalist policies described previously and economic relations. Thus, in the period of the European Concert, introvert policies or policies of exclusion seem to have been the predominant pattern. Free trade actually cannot be dated until the end of this very period, with the repeal of the Corn Laws in Britain in 1846. The following period, then, is one of a more ambitious attempt at spreading international trade, pressing for free trade. An important breakthrough was the Anglo-French Treaty of 1860, during a period which, in terms of other affairs, is most appropriately described as a Particularist one. Prussia and the German Customs Union followed in this period, to return to high tariff policies only in the next period, in 1879. This Universalist period is characterized by a retreat from free trade, rather than the reverse (Kindleberger 1978). In the period of Particularism leading to the First World War, the growth of international trade was strong, but it appears that it also to a larger degree took place within the colonial empires (Kindleberger 1964). Thus, in this period, there might have been a closer correspondence with Particularism. The same is true for the post-World War I periods, the Universalist period being one of increasing international interdependence, followed after the Great Depression with increasing attempts at withdrawing from the international economic exchanges. Also, in the post-1945 periods, there is a correspondence between the economic policies and other policies. Thus, for the first, Particularist period, the West clearly expanded free trade within its area, but consciously tried to exclude the Soviet bloc from trade (e.g. the strategic embargo). Such policies were partially reversed with the onset of détente, symbolized by the first major grain deal between the United States and the Soviet Union in 1963. In US-Soviet as well as in West European-East European relations, the development of economic relations was strongly favored by the political leadership.9 Thus, we find that in several of the periods there has been a close correspondence between increasing economic interaction and Universalism, but that this is perhaps more pronounced for the periods after 1895 than before. In periods of Particularism, however, policies of economic bloc-building or economic autarchy have been preferred. The closer correspondence between these sets of policies in the

9

Reporting to the US Congress on his visit to Moscow in 1972 Nixon summarized this policy as one of “creating a momentum of achievement in which progress in one area could contribute to progress in others”, and “when the two largest economies in the world start trading with each other on a much larger scale, living standards in both nations will rise, and the stake which both have in peace will increase”. Cooperation in space exploration was also part of this, resulting in a joint orbital mission in 1975. See “Address by President Nixon to a Joint Session of the Congress”, June 1, 1972 in Stebbins and Adams (1976, pp. 80–81). The resulting space mission was in 1975 hailed by Le Canard Enchainé: Vive La Coexistence Espacifique!

16.3

Universalism and Particularism in Practice

311

Table 16.3 Typical policies in periods of universalism and particularism, 1816–1976. Periods are the unit of analysis. In parenthesis: periods departing from the overall pattern. Few systematic differences concern direct major-minor relations. Geopolitik Realpolitik Idealpolitik

Kapitalpolitik

Universalism

Particularism

Buffer zones (not 1871–1895, 1963– 1976) Caution in vital areas Loose alliances (not 1963–1976?) Slow arms build-up (not 1963–1976) Coexistence among majors

Elimination of vacuum

Extension of relations among majors (not 1816–1848, 1871–1895)

Boldness in vital areas Solid alliances (not 1849–1870) Rapid arms build-up (not 1849–1870) Messianism also among majors Seclusion for majors or major blocs (not 1849–1870)

20th century might suggest closer coordination of international interaction than previously was the case. Political-strategic conditions seem increasingly to have colored economic relationship. Table 16.3 shows that the policies pursued in different areas have been designed to support one another, and on the whole, few contradictions or inconsistencies are to be reported. Thus, periods of Universalism have generally involved attempts at separation of majors through buffer zone arrangements or self-imposed restraint in vital areas. Predominantly a pattern of slow arms buildups and loose alliances has been pursued. Ideologically, a policy of coexistence has prevailed and economically, trade has been extended among the dominant countries. Taken together, this means that the concept of Universalism summarizes consistent efforts among many major powers, working in the same direction of building constructive and multidimensional relations. We have already observed, in Table 16.2, that in such periods the incidence of war and confrontation among major powers is lower. The patterns displayed in periods of Particularism are in sharp contrast. Buffer zone arrangements have been overturned, less restraint has been exhibited in vital areas, rapid arms build-ups have occurred and solid, internationally binding alliances have been formed. Among at least some of the majors, messianism/chauvinism has been prevalent, and trade has been used as an instrument for coercion or exclusion. Again this is a pattern of internally consistent policies, all reinforcing the underlying conflict between major powers. Indeed, as we have already noted, periods of Particularism are also periods with major power wars and military confrontations. However, there are some notable inconsistencies in these patterns. Most exceptional is the 1849–1870 period: in several ways it had traits also typical for the periods immediately preceding or succeeding: loose alliance structures and little arms build-up, apart from the time immediately before a major war. Thus, in these respects, there is considerable intra-19th century similarity. Also, with respect to economic relations, this period was one of free trade becoming more acceptable as a general policy, and countries, in most other respects aiming at their own

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self-aggrandizement, embraced the concept. This, then, is in contrast to the other 19th century periods, which both were, for a considerable extent of time, markedly inner- or intra-bloc-oriented. For the 20th century the inconsistencies are few but still obvious. First, the 1933–1944 period showed less solidification of opposing blocs than could be expected. Secondly, the period 1963–1976 saw a notable lack of the loosening of blocs that previously had been associated with Universalist patterns, and most markedly, a failure to curtail the arms buildup and accept internal dissent. Looking over the entire period, most of these inconsistencies refer to the Realpolitik domain; the alliances and the armaments do not correspond with the message from other policies. In Geopolitik terms, the consistency is fairly complete (with some exceptions as to buffer zone policies), as is also the case for Idealpolitik, and Kapitalpolitik (with the exceptions of the 19th century pointed to). In one period the Realpolitik divergence goes in a Universalist direction, perhaps influencing the major wars of the period to become shorter (1849–1870). In another period the outcome might well have been the reverse, meaning the abandoning of Universalist policies altogether (1963–1976). Consistency would, in particular, have the effect of reducing uncertainty among the major powers. Given that these powers have a fairly uniform understanding of the dimensions involved, consistency would reinforce a given message. Thus, at times some inconsistency might have been less important, notably the lack of correspondence of Kapitalpolitik policies with other elements in the 19th century. In the 20th century, however, Kapitalpolitik might have been more important. With such an understanding it becomes clear that all Universalist periods are highly internally consistent, with one exception, 1963–1976. Also, on the whole, all the 20th century Particularist periods are highly consistent. Of the latter, two ended in world wars, and one in a crisis that might well have resulted in the third one. Inconsistency could give rise to a demand for change, consistency being a more preferable condition. Thus, a given period could change into its opposite. But change would also have other roots and to these we now turn.

16.4

From Universalism to Particularism, and Vice-Versa

Although the Universalist policies have largely been consistent and not resulted in major war, they were all abandoned. Obviously, the policies pursued were not satisfactory to all involved. This means that they were built on a foundation that was solid enough for a certain period of time, but not solid enough to handle particular changes. Also the conditions that brought about the Universalist periods in the first place should be considered, as this might suggest the outer limits of the policies. Thus, there are two particular points of change that need to be scrutinized: the change from Universalism to Particularism and changes in the opposite direction.

16.4

From Universalism to Particularism, and Vice-Versa

313

Table 16.4 Factors affecting change in policy patterns, 1816–1976. Source: The author

Identified Time-points of Change Geopolitik Realpolitik Idealpolitik Kapitalpolitik

From Universalism to Particularism

From Particularism to Universalism

1848/1849, 1895/1896, 1932/ 1933 End of Expansionism in 1895/ 1896 Entrance of New Actors in 1895/1896 Internal Revolutions 1848/ 1849, 1932/1933 Economic Crisis 1932/1933

1870/1871, 1918/1919, 1962/ 1963 Territorial Redistribution 1870/ 1871, 1918/1919 Defeat in War 1870/1871, 1918/ 1919 Revolutions 1870/1871, 1918/ 1919 Economic turmoil following war 1918/1919

Such changes could be sought in three particular areas: 1. Changes among the majors: the composition of their relationships, relative capabilities, but also inconsistency in policy. 2. Changes involving the minors: their direct relations to the majors, degree of independence, etc. 3. Internal changes in the different actors, notably in the majors: revolutions, change of perspectives. Altogether, there are six shifts to consider, three in each direction. In all cases, the years of change have been identified and factors mentioned by historians as influential have been collected. Some typical variables are presented in Table 16.4. Although this table indicates dates for changes, such timing is of course only symbolic; changes are always the result of long-term trends. Some of the changes, consequently, are harder to locate exactly in time. However, dates are important for understanding change; their symbolic value is highly educational. Let us first consider that the transformation from Universalism to Particularism is comparatively non-violent; there are some wars recorded, but no sharp change is evident in the power relationships between the leading actors. The wars at the time were those of major powers solidifying their position by attacking minors (e.g. Prussia on Denmark, Japan on China, the United States on Spain), but such wars are hardly novel or directly related to the shifts. More interesting, and more frequently emphasized by historians, are the internal changes within major powers. The revolutions in France, Austria and Germany are related to the breakdown of the existing order. In the first two cases, revolution brought back a Napoleon and brought down a Metternich, in the third case it overthrew the Weimar Republic and created the Third Reich. These changes were not ordinary domestic shifts of power, as the internal orders were integral parts of the entire international arrangement at the time. Consequently, these revolutions were as much challenges to predominant

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Universalism as to the internal order. With Louis Philippe and the Weimar Republic removed, not only were symbols of the previous order replaced, but something more fundamental had changed; the role of these countries as majors were redefined. The shifts in 1848/1849 and 1932/1933 could both be seen this way. The third change away from Universalism is more difficult to analyse. The shifts around the turn of the century resulting in the confrontation patterns leading to World War I were more gradual. There is no particular revolution to point to. Instead factors such as the removal of Bismarck from power in Germany, the realignment among European powers, the decreasing number of territories available to territory-seeking European countries and the emergence of non-European major states seem important. However, the parallel between the changes in 1848/1849 and those of 1932/1933 might still permit a more general conclusion; the revolutionary changes were related to economic crisis, uneven development of industry, unemployment, and, thus, to protest and radicalism (“leftist” as well as “rightist”, and in both situations “rightists” coming out on the top). The regimes that were overthrown were closely identified with the previous “world order” either in personal capacity or in (close to) legal terms. This close association between the internal and international arrangement led to the downfall of both. Possibly, we can specify a chain of events that is potentially very destabilizing for a given international arrangement; economic mismanagement and reduced popular support for a regime whose role is highly significant for Universalist policies will endanger not only these regimes, but, very likely, also upset the entire policy. In other words, a weakness of these Universalist policies might have been their excessive reliance on the maintenance of a particular order in particular countries. The policies were, in a sense, not adaptive enough to handle the internal changes of leading and crucial states. Indeed, the policies of appeasement, pursued during the 1930s, rested on the assumption that adaptation was possible, and that, at a given moment, Germany's ambitions could be satisfied, preserving most of the League arrangement. The challenge to the entire Versailles construction was only understood at a very late moment. Such a policy of adaptation is, in other words, not likely to be successful if/ when the entire international arrangement is the matter of dispute. The only alternative might be a policy of pre-emptive adaptation to defuse tensions when they are still latent. However, to change an already existing arrangement before it has become an issue will mostly not have sufficient political support. Politics seem to require much more concrete signals of warnings. The changes in the mid-1890s followed a slightly different logic. There were no internal revolutions, but the interaction between inter-state relations and internal politics was still there. The removal of Bismarck suggested that Germany's role in the world could be seen in a different light by Germany as well as by others, notably Russia. The rapid colonization meant that there were fewer distant territories to

16.4

From Universalism to Particularism, and Vice-Versa

315

struggle for. Together these factors might have contributed to making Germany take a stronger, less compromising stand.10 Turning now to the transformation from Particularism to Universalism, we find more violent change, and at that, among the majors themselves. Two of the shifts are multidimensional, and relate to two major wars: 1870/1871 and 1918/1919. These changes are, however, not ordinary major power defeats; the era investigated has seen a number of such defeats (e.g. Russia in the Crimean War or in the Russo-Japanese War). In addition they involved considerable internal changes. New regimes and new constitutions were developed in France and Germany, respectively. The new orders created were not simply rearrangements of inter-state relations. Rather, the three Universalist periods following a major war (including, for the sake of the argument, 1814, as well as 1871 and 1919) are parallel; they aimed not only at containing a given major power but also at reducing the perceived threat of certain types of internal policies. Thus, Universalism became linked to particular regimes. In post-Napoleonic France, as well as in the Weimar Republic, these new regimes became identified with the defeat. This seems, however, not to have been the case for the post-1871 Third Republic. As was the case with transformations away from Universalism, there is one case which is less clear-cut. It is comparable to the 1895/1896 shift but the direction is the opposite one: 1962/1963. There can be no doubt that the policy of détente, introduced in the immediate aftermath of the 1962 nuclear confrontation between the United States and the Soviet Union, reflected a fear of a nuclear war between the two. Also, at this time, increased attention was given to Third World problems (the United States becoming increasingly involved in the Vietnam War, the Soviet Union extending support to liberation movements throughout the Third World). The process of decolonization created a new area for the leading majors, the year 1960 and the Congo crisis being symbolic. Thus, the Universalism introduced and pursued until the end of the 1970s seems to have had a double origin: fear of nuclear war and focus on Third World activities. This means that the policy of détente had a different origin than the other Universalist policies encountered in this analysis; it was not a matter of victors setting up a system to be preserved against others, but rather of the competitors trying to preserve themselves against a possible catastrophe. Nuclear weapons, in other words, changed the dynamics of relations between the major powers. In one sense, this was a profound change; it meant that anticipation of devastation was brought into the calculations before devastation actually took place. In another sense, it was less profound; the consensus among the majors was less developed than was the case in earlier Universalist periods. An argument could still be made in favor of confrontation, brinkmanship, in order to continue the battle between the majors. Unlike the other situations, there was no reordering of priorities; rather a policy of caution succeeded a policy of boldness. In this vein, the shift in 1962/

10

Such links form some of the conclusions in Choucri and North (1975, ch. 16). On the significance of Bismarck's departure, see Kennan, op.cit.

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1963 is comparable to the one of 1895/1896: no change in basic goals or basic perception of incompatibility, but a change in the means to be used. Wilhelm II grasped for vigor, Kennedy/Khrushchev for caution; Wilhelm was in a hurry to arrive at final victory, Kennedy/Khrushchev settled down to wait for the ultimate collapse of the other, either from internal contradictions or from changes in global relationships. In 1895/1896 the lack of 'empty' territory meant that the conflict had to be pursued in more vital (to the majors) areas, in 1962/1963 the 'opening up' of new territory through decolonization meant that the same conflict could be pursued in less vital areas. Either way, the armament build-up received new stimuli. This, in other words, suggests a possible link between 'central' and 'peripheral' areas, the one replacing the other as a forum for continued confrontation between major powers having defined themselves in incompatibility with one another. In general terms, such incompatibilities can either end in major wars (as indeed has been the outcome for two periods of Particularism, as shown above) or internal revolutions (as indeed has been the outcome for two periods of Universalism), or in a continuous shift between 'arenas' of competition, as long as such arenas exist (as happened in the two remaining transformations). In the latter case, this means that 'peripheral' areas are 'outlets' for major powers, striving to gain leverage on the other, but hoping to manage this without a direct onslaught. A final note: 1976 is here, as a matter of convenience and availability of data, regarded as the ending of one Universalist period. In retrospect, it appears correct to suggest that détente gradually thinned out beginning at approximately this time, culminating with the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979 and the election of Ronald Reagan in 1980. Seen in this light, it is interesting to relate some of our previous findings to this development. Neither in terms of Idealpolitik nor Kapitalpolitik are there any important changes among or within the major powers. In Realpolitik terms there are some changes: a new actor entering more actively, China, during these years of transition forming new relations with the West. Also, there is a set of new challenges emerging from the Third World: the oil crisis and rising Islamic fundamentalism, the latter resulting in confrontation with both superpowers (in Iran and Afghanistan, respectively). A criterion for success for détente might have been the ability of the United States and the Soviet Union to win Third World support, but these developments were setbacks, for both. Thus, there is a parallel between this transition and the one in 1895/1896. Failure in promoting success in distant areas (from the point of view of the major powers) tends to result in increasing tension in the central arena. To this, then, should be added the obvious inconsistencies in the policies of détente, pointed to in the previous section, primarily the failure to control the arms race.

16.5

16.5

Limits of Major Power Universalism

317

Limits of Major Power Universalism

Major powers have continuously tried to work out constructive relations among themselves. Such attempts have, in some periods, lasted for a considerable period of time. The record suggests that the pursuit of such Universalist policies is associated with fewer wars and confrontations in general and among the major powers in particular. Such policies have served at the same time to maintain the independence of the majors and reduce the dangers of war among them. Invariably, however, they have been superseded by periods of Particularism, when one or several of the majors have embarked on policies advancing the particular interest, rather than the joint interest of all. Such periods are associated with higher levels of war and confrontations among the majors. In several instances they have resulted in the dismemberment or defeat of one or several of the majors. Invariably, such periods have been followed by Universalist policies. Looking at the four concerted attempts of Universalism in the 1816–1976 period, they display some discernable common traits. First, they have been arrangements worked out among major powers, normally the victors in a previous war: the Concert of Europe, Bismarck's order and the League of Nations all followed immediately on major wars. Thus, they represented attempts by the victors to handle their victory, to avoid the reemergence of threat from the losers. The détente period differs, but in some respect it could be seen as a belated attempt among the victors to agree on a set of relations, in particular for Europe. More directly, however, it attempted to stabilize the relations between the majors themselves in the face of a mutual nuclear threat. The three first examples of Universalist policies, consequently, built on a much more developed common interest than did the period of détente. In the former situations, the victors had a clear actor to worry about; in the latter case, the fear came primarily from the other party or from the general threat of nuclear war. There was, consequently, less of an incentive to solve conflict in the latter case. The focus was more on avoiding escalation than on conflict settlement. Second, all these arrangements have been conservative as they have tried to stabilize the status quo: maintaining the major powers as majors, keeping the existing power relationships among them and upholding the distance to non-majors. In the face of challenges, the policy has been one of adaptation, trying to make the challenges fit within the existing framework, rather than substantially alter the framework itself. The duration of some of the periods of Universalism indicates that this sometimes has been possible: confrontations among majors have been resolved without escalation to war. However, the conservative nature obviously has some shortcomings, as there are many challenges which are less easily accommodated. Third, the consistency across several dimensions of policy has been marked for most of the periods, except most notably for the détente period. This internal consistency might well have contributed to reducing uncertainty and thus to make actions and reactions more predictable. Such more predictable relations, it could be argued, would reduce the emergence of conflict in the first place. An indication of

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this is that the number of wars and confrontations with major powers involved per year is much lower for the periods of consistent Universalism than for the period of détente.11 Fourth, all Universalist periods witnessed a shift in focus away from direct major-major confrontations in central areas to a preoccupation with major-minor relations. Most markedly this is true for the Concert of Europe, Bismarckian and détente periods. This diversion of attention could deflect some of the tension in the central areas and point to common interests in other areas. Inevitably, however, it means that the Universalist policies become dependent on the degree of success in that field, resulting in interventionism. For both the Bismarckian and détente period, frustrations in these respects seem to have made the powers turn to the central area again. If that is where the origin of conflict is, this can be seen as logic within this framework. In both these cases it resulted in an intensification of arms build-ups and increasingly unpredictable major power relations. Fifth, the Universalist policies have not simply been an arrangement built among states. There has also been a significant internal component to them. In the cases where victors worked out an order for the post-war period, new regimes have been installed in the defeated countries. These regimes have been the ultimate guarantors of the new order, meaning that the orders become vulnerable to the efficacy of these regimes. Internal change in such countries becomes directly relevant to international relations. Thus, French regime in 1815 and the German Weimar Republic had to carry a double burden of confirming the defeat and reconstructing their countries. In the end neither succeeded. Most notable, however, is the fact that the Third Republic was not, in the same way, identified with the war defeat. In somewhat the same way, the new German governments after 1949 have been absolved of the misdeeds of their predecessors.12 Major power universalism has been highly constrained. Most markedly this appears true for the most recent attempt, the period of détente. It could not build on the power of united victors, it failed to be consistent across significant dimensions and ultimately internal inconsistencies brought it down. The question, then, arises if there is an alternative to such Universalist policies. This analysis suggest some principles for an alternative form of Universalism, making it possible to break out of some of the historically observed constraints: – a greater involvement of non-major powers in questions of world peace and security, – a greater openness, on the part of the major powers, to change in non-major countries and in relations among states,

11

The average annual major power involvement in war or confrontation is, for 1816–1848 1.0, for 1871–1895 0.9, for 1919–1932 1.7 and for 1963–1976 2.2. The latter figure actually puts the détente period parallel to some of the Particularist periods, notably the 1896–1918 period with 2.3 and 1933–1944 with 2.2. 12 The significance of the German question is given an extensive and interesting treatment in DePorte (1979).

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Limits of Major Power Universalism

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– a greater consistency in major power relations, particularly in the fields of disengagement, disarmament and dissent, – a greater restraint on permissible behavior of major powers in Third World conflicts, – a greater domestic accountability for the foreign policies of major powers, and, breaking out of the framework: – a greater reliance on non-governmental organizations. These principles would serve to make Universalism truly universal, not simply the Universalism of major powers.

References Botnen, Ingvar, ed. 1983. Fakta om Krig og Fred.Oslo: Pax. Choucri, Nazli and Robert C. North 1975. Nations in Conflict. National Growth and International Violence.Cambridge, Mass.: MIT. Common Security. A Programme for Disarmament. 1982. Report of the Independent Commission on Disarmament and Security. London: Pan. DePorte, A.W. 1979. Europe between the Superpowers.New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press. Falk, Richard and Saul Mendlovitz 1973. Regional Politics and World Order.San Francisco: Freeman. Falk, Richard 1975. A Study of Future Worlds,New York: Free Press. Hoffmann, Stanley 1980. Primacy or World Order. American Foreign Policy since the Cold War. NewYork: McGraw Hill. Kennan, George 1979. The Decline of Bismarck’s European Order.Princeton: Princeton University Press. Kindleberger, Charles P. 1978. Economic Response. Comparative Studies in Trade, Finance and Growth.Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Kindleberger, Charles P. 1964.Economic Growth in France and Britain, 1851–1950. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Nincic, Miroslav 1982. The Arms Race.New York: Praeger. Parsons, Talcott and Edward A. Shils, eds. 1951. Towards A General Theory of Action.Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Patem, Michael 1983. 'The Buffer System in International Relations', Journal of Conflict Resolution,vol. 27, no. 1, pp. 3–26. Rosecrance, Richard N.1963. Action and Reaction in World Politics.Boston: Little, Brown. SIPRI 1983.World Armaments and Disarmament.London: Taylor and Francis. Small, Melvin and J. David Singer 1982. Resort to Arms.Beverly Hills: Sage. Stebbins, R.P. and E.P. Adams, eds. 1976. American Foreign Relations 1972. A Documentary Record.New York: New York University Press. Väyrynen, Raimo 1983. 'Economic Cycles, Power Transitions, Political Management and Wars betweenMajor Powers', International Studies Quarterly, vol. 27, no. 4, pp. 389–418. Wallensteen, Peter 1981. 'Incompatibility, Confrontation and War. Four Models and Three Historical Systems, 1816–1976', Journal of Peace Research,vol. 18, no. 1, pp. 57–90. A section of this work is reproduced in this volume as Chapter 15.

Chapter 17

What’s in a War? Lessons from a Conflict Data Program Peter Wallensteen

Abstract The definition of “war” is central to peace research and, in particular, to the widely used Uppsala Conflict Data Program (UCDP). In this article, Peter Wallensteen, founder of UCDP, explains the rationales behind the key definitions in UCDP. The war definition goes back to the concepts of “conflict,” where the existence of a disagreement, “the incompatibility,” is central. The chapter also explains how UCDP has enlarged its scope by including conflicts between non-state entities as well as “one-sided violence,” such as genocide and terrorism.

17.1

The Importance of Understanding “War”

War is one of the most destructive activities that human being can inflict on each other.1 Certainly, more people may succumb to natural disasters or epidemics. But these are not humanly induced actions aimed at extinguishing a population or making it change its behavior. Instead, humans have instituted measures to warn of such events and deal with the harm they generate. There is a process of learning to improve the management of disasters and their prevention. Similarly, traffic accidents take place at humanly constructed roads and result in large number of deaths, but the vehicles, roads and signs are not designed to kill people, but rather the reverse: to reduce incidents of violent death and damage. Wars and comparable organized activities such as terrorism and genocide, are humanly conceived for a particular defined purpose that does not exclude the killing of other human beings. “Wars” are an oddity in human experience and, even odder, they are not always regarded as the calamity that they in fact are for most victims and bystanders. It is “heroic” neither to initiate an epidemic, nor to refuse to save people in an earthquake or tsunami nor to run a car into somebody else’s. “Wars”, however, do have a great number of heroes, often on opposing sides of a conflagration. “War”, in other

This text is a republication of Wallensteen, Peter 2012. ”What's in a War? Lessons from a Conflict Data Program,” in Mary Ellen O'Connell (ed) What Is War? An Investigation in the Wake of 9/11. Leiden, Boston: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers, pp. 261–272. Reprinted with permission.

1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_17

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words, requires considerable and special analysis. In this contribution, an attempt will be made to understand what a “war” actually is: how is it defined, by whom, and for what purpose? Furthermore, having defined it, it asks what this definition includes, and what is, as a consequence, excluded, and what can be done about that? Parallel to this, this chapter asks whether there are any discernable trends that can be detected with the help of these definitions, and, if so, what do they say about the war specter today?

17.2

Who Defines War?

Although “war” is often seen as a pervasive phenomenon throughout history there is little agreement on its precise definition. The outer contours are clearly visible and cases such as World War I and World War II would be subsumed under most definitions. They have entered into textbooks around the world and are part of a common, globally shared experience. They are understood as “wars”. Even so, however, there are variations in that understanding among the participants, suggesting that “war” is differently defined by different parties. For instance, there is a difference as to when particular wars were fought and when they ended. World War II started on September 1, 1939 according to much European writing. That is the occasion of Germany’s invasion of Poland. However, to the Soviet Union this was not the beginning, as it was allied with Germany at the time. Instead, the Great Patriotic War started on June 22, 1941, with Germany’s attack in Operation Barbarossa. To the USA the Second World War began even later, December 7, 1941, with Imperial Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor. As is often the case, those attacked united to face the enemy and that formed the events into a World War. In the end, in May and/or August 1945, this particular war terminated with the USSR and the USA as the primary victors. Their understanding of the purpose of the war, however, was quite different. Apart from defending themselves against attack and defeating the enemy, they were fighting for dissimilar specific issues. That was revealed as the War was ending and it crystallized in the location that saw this War’s very beginning: who shall rule Poland? There was a joint understanding on war as the actions that went on between 1941 and 1945. This did not necessarily extend to what went on before that, or what was to come after. The allies fought the same battles but different wars. This means that the war participants may be an unlikely source of generic definitions. Their definitions of inter-state wars are likely to vary. The same is true when it comes to defining a particular internal situation as a “war”. Conflicts within the same sovereignty (intra-state conflicts) will have political as well as legal consequences. There may in fact be more consensus on what constitutes a war between states, than what is taking place within a state. War between states may have legal declarations of war, or other legal implications that define them as war.

17.2

Who Defines War?

323

Such statements may be more difficult to identify when turning to internal wars. A number of war-like situations, such as the one in Northern Ireland after 1968, may not have agreed definitions by the parties. To official United Kingdom it was not a “war” but a domestic disturbance, even some form of “troubles”. Others, notably “rebels” (“freedom fighters”) organized in the IRA may have preferred to describe it as a “liberation war”. The same difficulties accrue to situations such as those the United States has confronted during the first decade of the 21st century: President George W. Bush declared a “global war on terror” in 2001 while at the same time, making clear that it was not a “civil war” in Iraq by 2007, but rather a form of “sectarian violence”. The global war was not fought against another state but against a set of non-state actors (for instance, al-Queda), that is a constellation of “terrorists”. The Iraq “war” was a matter of supporting a government to establish control within its jurisdiction. The warring parties, in other words, will describe a situation as “war” or “not war” depending on circumstances, desired public connotations and expected legal implications. Thus, using the practice of warring parties to establish generic definitions appears not to be fruitful. Instead, it is appropriate to approach the world body that was created to “save succeeding generations from the scourge of war”: the United Nations. It actually uses the term “war” in its preamble. However, its most operative paragraphs do not. Article 39 (in the UN Charter, Chapter VII) identifies “threat to the peace, breach of the peace, or act of aggression”. It does not mention “war”. The organization, thus, does not express its relations to all wars, only those that meet criteria associated with forms of aggression. This might not, after all, be surprising. The UN is composed of the national governments that have been parties to many of the wars. They were united in the UN against particular challenges (notably the expansionism of Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan). Thus, a collectively agreed definition of “war” is as likely to avoid a generic formulation as the states would by themselves. Other terms are used, to delimit more agreeable spaces of activity. A term such as inter-state “aggression” may generate more common understandings. For instance, when Iraq under Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait in 1990 the USA and USSR could quickly agreed on defining this as “a breach of the peace” (but not “aggression”). As a consequence it may not be surprising to find that the new systematic tool, the UN peacemaker glossary does not contain the word “war”. It does, however, have “armed conflict” which is defined as “a dispute involving the use of armed force between two or more parties.” It also separates this from an international armed conflict, which is “a war involving two or more states”, i.e. the notion of “war” creeps into the definition without itself being defined. A “non-international armed conflict” then is a “conflict in which government forces are fighting with armed insurgents, or armed groups are fighting amongst themselves” (UN peacemaker glossary, Jan. 3, 2008). Thus, the terms “war” and “armed conflict” become almost synonymous. Perhaps the two are only separated by the size of the conflagration, as other sources would have it: “War is any large scale, violent

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conflict” (Wikipedia, Jan. 3, 2008). This, however, is clearly only a diversionary move. It remains to define “large scale” as well as “violent”. Furthermore, if we want to be prescriptive it is difficult to determine how a situation is going to turn out. What unfolds when one actor attacks another with armed instruments and for political reasons may become “large scale”, but that can often not be predicted at the outset. Inevitably, the one who initiates action expects the event to be short, small-scale and successful. When that does not happen an “attack” or an “intervention” turns into a “war”. Possibly, these objections may have influenced writers: by November 2008 Wikipedia had changed its definition. War was now described as “an international relations dispute characterized by organized violence between national military units”, i.e. dropping the distinction that had to do with magnitude (Wikipedia, November 10, 2008) but at the same time limiting the concept to inter-state conflicts. This underscores the volatility in definitions and inconsistences that might emerge. For instance, it is likely that developments following the initial use of armed force are more predictable in inter-state conflict. When two highly organized actors such as two states clash militarily it is more probable to turn “large scale” in terms of suffering, the use of resources, the public awareness of what is going on, etc. Thus, there is a common understanding of a “war” over the Falkland islands/ Malvinas between Argentina and the United Kingdom in 1982, although the casualties were limited. Many “internal wars” are, however, not described in those terms, although they may be considerably more destructive than some inter-state wars. A significant number of present challenges to international peace and security arise from internal conflicts that have become protracted and/or internationalized. Often this emerges in ways that could not be predicted from the outset. Media may be the source of the greatest confusion. The short word “war” is used in a number of contexts, which do not have an immediate bearing on violence and organized confrontations. There have been “wars” on poverty, on crime and on drugs, let alone as descriptions of football games and other sporting events. There are also virtual war games that are downloadable, sometimes being modeled on real wars. There are fictional movies (e.g. Star Wars). The war metaphor is loaded and useful but not helpful in defining the phenomenon in the first place. Furthermore, there are many events that are violent, political and with devastating human consequences that do not fit under the heading of “war”. Terms such as genocide, communal violence, forced expulsions, ethnic cleansing, massacres, politicide, mass killings, etc. all aim to describe “non-war” violent phenomena, but may also be subsumed under each other. There is a need to develop a coherent approach to be able to separate “war” from other forms of politically motivated violence. That would make it possible to identify particular events and then consider which legal, political and other remedies that apply. To do that, however, we have to move a step away from the actors of a particular war. The academics can be a source of insight. By being detached from the practical implications of particular wars peace research, security studies, political science and international law would be disciplines that can throw additional light on the definitional conundrums.

17.3

17.3

Peace Research and the War Definition

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Peace Research and the War Definition

Standard peace research definitions depart from conflict theory and armed conflict in order to delimit the definition of war. “War” is a large-scale armed conflict, which makes it the primary purpose to identify the notion of “conflict”. Machiavelli and Clausewitz are important writers in Western traditions of conflict analysis. Adam Smith and Karl Marx offered competition and class analysis as additional methodological tools. In classical Chinese discourse Sun Tzu is a central writer, as is Kautilya in India or Ibn Khaldun in the Arab World. Thus, there is considerable thinking on the questions of conflict and how they relate to war. It is fruitful to go via “conflict” to identify “war”. Obviously the term “conflict” has many meanings in everyday life. A first way of establishing this is to refer to destructive behavior or action. There is conflict when a trade union goes on strike or an employer locks out its employees. Action is part of what constitutes a conflict. As we saw in the previous section, the warring parties may agree on the battles they are involved in, thus, making their actions a way of concurring on a definition. However, it would mean that a conflict ends once armed behavior ends. Few would agree to this. A cease-fire is not the end of a conflict. Actions may resume at some later stage. There may still be dissatisfaction. Obviously, conflict, and as a consequence war, is more than the behavior of the parties. As we saw in the discussion on the Second World War parties will not cease their actions until there is some movement on the issues, which sparked the dispute. The “issue” refers to the incompatible positions taken by the parties, motivating their actions. This, then, is a deeper understanding of what a conflict is. It contains a severe disagreement between at least two sides, where their demands cannot be met by the same resources at the same time. This is an incompatibility. The goals of the primary parties are incompatible. Incompatible demands have to be handled. Incompatibility is key to the existence of conflict. If there are no actions, it is still possible to identify tensions and disagreements: there is latent conflict, that may become manifest when action is taken. In this discussion we have mentioned the actors and parties, the agents of action. They need to be included. For violence to take place actors must have access to means of violence: The more such resources, the “stronger” the actors. That is where the states enter the analysis. Conflicts involving the state or a relationship between states, do have more inherent danger of the use of violence than any other actor or sets of actors. The state is an actor with a particular status as the sole legitimate user of physical, fiscal, and legal power within a particular geographical domain, its territory. It is also important in an ideological sense. The actions and explanations by the holders of state power are likely to be a central dimension in the life of that particular state. Thus, states are powerful as actors. Remarkably, controlling the state can also become the objects of conflict: to control the government gives many advantages. The state, thus, at the same time is an actor with recourse to violence, but controlling it becomes an incompatibility for others desiring to have that control.

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From some perspectives, states are in constant conflict with each other (Herz 1950; Waltz 1959, 1979) as one state is a danger to any other state. This is defined as the security dilemma: the security of one can imply the insecurity of another. As long as there is unpredictability in the system, there will be fear and, thus, conflict. For our purposes it means that actors or parties are fundamental for conflict to exist. When actors are formed, they are ready to act (they have a purpose, an organization, some resources) and if they make an analysis where their needs for survival are in conflict with other actors, then there is conflict built into the system. The history of the actors, the actors’ understanding of their own role and their resources are important elements in conflict analysis. Let us then conclude that “conflict” consists of three components: incompatibility, action and actors. Thus a generic definition is that a conflict is a social situation in which a minimum of two actors (parties) strive to acquire at the same moment in time an available set of scarce resources (Wallensteen 2007). “Armed conflict” is the situation when the actors have weapons and use them in their “strive” for the scarce resources that exists. The notion of an “available set of scarce resources” does not refer only to economic matters. To be a prime minister, to control a particular piece of territory, to be able to propagate a particular idea can all be covered by this notion. It also includes demands for recognition, acceptance of responsibility for destructive actions or psychological retribution as they imply an admission affecting an actor’s standing nationally or internationally. Such demands may lead to a quest for compensation, legal changes and, thus, to redistribution of material resources, as well as matters of justice, morals and guilt. With the conflict concept clarified, we should be able to move to the most difficult of all conflicts: wars. They are different from all other conflicts in that they include irreversible actions. Wars involve the forceful conquest of territory, the eviction of inhabitants, the death of soldiers and civilians, the destruction of property, resources and environment, and the disruption of people’s mental, physical, economic and cultural development. Such events turn into conscious elements in the history of peoples, groups and individuals. They can become part of an identity, and color the way a state may look at itself, its subjects or it neighbors. These are events that can be ended and remedied by humans, but they cannot be undone. War is a form of armed conflict. It is the use of violence for a political purpose reaching a certain level of destruction. The Uppsala Conflict Data Program (UCDP) has wrestled with these issues and turned them into tools for mapping the world of war. The result is a generic definition of armed conflict, and war, which reads as follows: An armed conflict is a contested incompatibility which concerns government and/or territory where the use of armed force between two parties, of which at least one is the government of a state, results in at least 25 battle-related deaths. A war is when the total number of battle-deaths between the conflict parties reaches at least 1.000 in a year (Wallensteen 2007). The UCDP definition brings together the elements of “conflict”: there is a basic disagreement that can be surmised from the statement of the parties. The parties are clearly distinguishable. One side is always the state (or more precisely the

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government) facing another state or an organized actor who takes responsibility for its action. There is manifest armed action. When reaching a certain threshold of battle-related deaths in a specified period of time the conflict is sustained action that is identified as a war. This definition has the strength of being possible to operationalize. It is feasible to browse all published material globally and search for events that meet these criteria and add them for each calendar year. In this way a comparable, reliable and valid definition has emerged. It can be used to describe trends in the world, and it can also be used for comparative and statistical studies. The basic unit, the armed conflict, is identifiable across culture, time and space. When applying this definition to the entire post-World War II period, it specifies 232 armed conflict since 1945, of which around 122 have been active in the post-Cold War period (see for instance, Harbom and Wallensteen 2007). The definition permits reliable analysis of trends in world conflict patterns. As the Uppsala database includes more 100 variables describing these armed conflicts, there is a vast potential for research. “War” will be a smaller part of all the armed conflicts. In the 2000s, so far, the number of wars has reached up to eleven in a year, compared to a yearly average of more than thirty armed conflicts. There are a large number of conflicts that do not escalate into war. Some do, however, and that is in itself an interesting research task: which ones will remain on a lower intensity level and which ones will turn into wars? To answer this question, we would have to draw on what we have presumably learned about preventing the escalation of armed conflict. What is the prescriptive value of a definition like this? “Armed conflict” as a basic notion is distinct from non-armed conflict: do the parties use weapons to achieve the purposes they have specified and has this resulted in the deliberate death of more than 25 persons in a year? There are a number of qualitative shifts from non-armed to armed conflict: the introduction of weapons, the use of them against the others side, and the resulting deaths of opponents. It may seem that the “war” definition does not apply to a similar qualitative shift, only a quantitative one. However, on a yearly basis the death rate increases from about one person killed every second week (resulting in 25 in a year) to some twenty every week (resulting in 1.000 in a year). In terms of impact on society, this is likely to be a qualitative shift: fear will rise all over a country, hostile attitudes will form and become entrenched, financial resources will be devoted to the military, and international relations colored. It is obviously not possible to specify that all these shifts will occur exactly at the 1.000 threshold of battle-related deaths. A qualitative shift may occur earlier raising fears dramatically (for instance, if the fighting takes place in the capital, as happened in Moscow in 1993). The rapid intensification of fighting between well-prepared and resourced entities certainly is an indication of a potential for war. It will quickly be reported, possibly acted upon and thus contained. The fear of such a qualitative shift is the fear of war. Thus, there is a prescriptive value in this definition. It has another prescriptive value as well: it serves to highlight protracted situations that have been remarkably taken for granted and led to little international attention. A case in point also plays itself out in Russia: The war in Chechnya may

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be deliberately underreported in order not to generate fear among Russian civilians. This practice makes a problem appear less significant and more marginal. In all likelihood this increases frustration in a region that bears the brunt of the fighting, even leading to desperate acts. Thus, the definition helps to demonstrate problematic situations that do not or are not allowed to generate the same imminent fear, as would be the case with battles in a capital. The first violent event in Russia has the elements of “war” in a common sense way, but did not generate many deaths. The second certainly has been a war at times, but may be perceived in the capital as distant and less relevant. The systematic definition draws attention to both and makes them comparable, not as wars, but as armed conflicts. The political and public understanding of what goes on will thus be affected by the way it is portrayed by government, concerned actors and media. The strength of a generic definition is, however, that it is used mercilessly across time and space, and thus does not pay attention to how the parties themselves would want to describe a particular situation. In an uncorrupt way it will define similar situations as similar when they meet the criteria. It is the strength of an independent approach.

17.4

Non-state and One-sided Conflicts

The definition of armed conflict introduced in section 17.3 does not cover all types of political and deadly conflict. There are violent events between non-state actors where the state is not directly involved as a party, but has to intervene in order to maintain security. There are violent events where organized parties attack innocent persons who are not themselves organized into parties or even do not perceive themselves to be in conflict with such organized parties. A fuller understanding will have to include such situations. If, furthermore, they can be independently defined they can be analyzed in conjunction with armed conflict. Is there a relationship between armed conflict and other forms of organized and destructive behavior? If there is a close link, the categories can be added becoming a unified measure of violence. If there is discussion on the link between them, they can be separated for analysis. If they are unrelated they can be studied independently of each other. The Uppsala Conflict Data Program has introduced two such definitions, in cooperation with the Human Security Report project (Vancouver, Canada) in two categories described as non-state and one-sided conflicts. A non-state conflict situation is defined as the use of armed force between two organized groups, neither of which is the government of a state, which results in at least 25 battle-related deaths. The same threshold of deaths is maintained thus describing events of a comparable magnitude as armed conflicts. Non-state actors, however, need not be as well organized as states involved in armed conflicts. Nor is there a requirement that the purpose of action constitutes a clearly recognizable incompatibility. This emerges both for theoretical and practical reasons. It is likely that non-state actors confronting each other do so on an understanding of such disagreements. These disagreements are not necessarily spelled out, as they are

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Non-state and One-sided Conflicts

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obvious to the groups: tribal clashes, communal violence and para-military groups fighting leftist movements confront each other over issues that are formed by previous relations or by involvement in another conflagration (issues could be grazing areas, local harassments or strategic points of importance in an armed conflict). These parties do not have the same need or wish to rally public support as state parties in armed conflict do. A practical concern follows from this: it is not often even possible to identify statements on an incompatibility. A conflict situation which is defined as one-sided violence is when the use of armed force – by the government of a state or by a formally organized group – against civilians results in at least 25 deaths. Again there is a focus on mass events, including many persons, thus meaning that extrajudicial killings in custody are excluded. The typical genocide event does not involve a confrontation between two organized actors. The Jewish population in Germany was not organized to challenge a non-state actor or the state. The Holocaust was entirely motivated by the instigator’s own theories and imaginations. There was no previous history of confrontation or conflict. Similarly, the ethnic cleansing during the Bosnia war targeted civilians that were unprotected and unorganized. In the case of Bosnia, it was sometimes argued that the ethnic cleansing had to do with historical grievances, but again, that was in the mind of the instigator, and nothing emerging out of a stated incompatibility among the different sides. Certainly, there was a war going on parallel to these events and strategic arguments were used in some parts of the country. That may have been an excuse, but mostly the intention was the one of eviction, extermination or humiliation of a civilian population. Terrorist acts are included as they target civilians, i.e. persons who are not organized into a movement or an actor. Not all actions that are branded as “terrorist” would fit with this category, notably when they are directed against military targets. The investigations by the UCDP find for the 2000s that these two types of violence are as frequent as the armed conflicts. Events that come to mind are found in Gujarat, India, in 2002 and clashes between groups in Nigeria, ostensibly around sharia laws. The deadliness of non-state conflict is not as high as in armed conflicts. However, one-sided violence will result in high death tolls in some situations, notably the attack on the World Trade Center in New York on September 11, 2001 (Eck and Hultman 2007; Harbom 2007; Human Security Report 2005; Kreutz 2007). Equipped with these three, distinct forms of violent conflict new research questions can be formulated. They provide, for instance, for a profiling of particular situations, as many of them will contain two or three types of violence. The 2007 situation in Iraq, for instance, has elements of an armed conflict between organized actors (i.e. between the government supported by the USA and its coalition on the one hand and al-Queda inspired groups on the other) as well as non-state conflict between Shi’ite and Sunni groups, and one-sided violence on people in daily pursuit of normal tasks, for instance going to the market. Different conflict situations will have different emphasis at different times. Thus, developing the definitions are not only academic exercises, but helpful in describing particular situations and following them over time.

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17 What’s in a War? Lessons from a Conflict Data Program

Conflict Trends and Peacemaking

The three types of conflict that we have introduced here makes it possible to see trends in global conflict patterns over time. So far only the category of armed conflict is available for a period such as the post-World War II era. As the work progresses on parallel trend observations will be possible. Already now it is possible to survey the conflicts in terms of how they end, the peace agreements that are concluded and preventive measures that are taken. Some of the observations that can be made at this time include the following: • There was a continuous rise in armed conflict into the early post-Cold War period. The peak years of were in 1991 and 1992, with 52 armed conflicts in each. The number in 2006 was 32. • Inter-state conflicts have been rare throughout the period, but intra-state conflict has often been highly internationalized. Many intra-state conflicts during the Cold war saw strong commitments from the major powers. Also in the post-Cold War other actors are engaged, but more frequently these are neighbors to the country in conflict. Some countries are the battlefields of others, what could amount to regional conflict complexes. • There are more peace agreements since 1989 than at any comparable period in modern history; at least 150 have been identified. They are associated with the temporary or durable ending of armed conflicts. • There is considerable activity by third parties in the early phases of conflict, to prevent further escalation. The level of international commitment to conflict resolution and peacemaking since 1989 is unprecedented: the use of peacekeeping, peacemaking envoys, and sanctions has increased, as have humanitarian efforts, non-governmental concern and public support. • Terrorist acts (suicide bombings, for instance) and counter-reactions (the formation of coalitions of the willing) in some conflicts have contributed to dramatic erosion of the respect for established international law (protection of civilians, humane treatment of prisoners of war, due process). • In the early 2000s the number of armed conflict is about equal to the number of non-state conflict and situations of one-sided violence. The general challenge to peacemaking, thus, includes more than 60 conflict situations annually. It is also likely that those situations involving the state as a driving actor are generating more deaths than any other. At the same time the other types of violence may escalate into state-based conflict. Thus, the agenda for international peace and security will have to include all three categories. This chapter has underlined the importance of a definition of “war” that transcends the one of the parties. One such definition has been presented and its strength in describing trends and pinpointing comparable situations has been demonstrated. Its weakness has partly been remedied by adding two new categories of violence. Together these definitions provide a more comprehensive picture of the global challenge of politically motivated, organized violence.

References

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References Eck, Kristine and Lisa Hultman 2007, “Violence against Civilians in War”, Journal of Peace Research 44 (2): 233–246. Harbom, Lotta 2007 (ed). States in Armed Conflict 2006, Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University. Harbom Lotta and Peter Wallensteen 2007, “Armed Conflict 1989–2006”, Journal of Peace Research 44 (5): 621–32. Herz, John H. 1950. “Idealist Internationalism and the Security Dilemma,” World Politics, 2: 157–80. Human Security Report 2005. New York: Oxford University Press. Ibn Khaldun, 1958. The Muqaddimah: An Introduction to History. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Kautilya 1992. The Arthashastra, Edited, Rearranged, Translated and Introduced by LN Rangarajan, Penguin Books, New Delhi, New York. Kreutz, Joakim 2007. “Conflicts Without Borders? A Brief Overview of Non-State Conflicts, in Harbom (ed), op.cit., pp 155–85. Machiavelli, Niccolo 1975. The Prince. Translated by George Bull. Rev. ed. Harmondsworth, Eng.: Penguin Books. Sun-Tzu, 1963. The Art of War. New York: Oxford University Press. UN Peacemaker. Glossary, https://peacemaker.un.org/. Uppsala Conflict Data Program, UCDP, data available for free at https://ucdp.uu.se. Wallensteen, Peter 2007. Understanding Conflict Resolution. War, Peace and the Global System, London: Sage, 2nd edition. Waltz, Kenneth N. 1959. Man, the State and War. New York, N.Y.: Colombia University Press. Waltz, Kenneth N. 1979. Theory of International Politics. Reading, Ma.: Addison-Wesley.

F Preventing Violent Conflict

At the University of Canterbury, Christchurch, New Zealand 2010, me with Jacob Bercovitch and Karl DeRouen, all engaged in studies of conflict prevention. Photo: From the author’s personal photo collection

Chapter 18

Dag Hammarskjöld and the Psychology of Conflict Diplomacy Peter Wallensteen

Abstract Dag Hammarskjöld was the second Secretary-General of the UN (1953– 1961) and was heavily involved in preventive diplomacy. In this article from 2000, Peter Wallensteen analyzes Hammarskjöld’s record in conflict diplomacy. It involves agenda setting, reaching of agreements and implementation of what has been agreed. In all, there are 20 cases. Hammarskjöld’s success rate is high, and typical features of his engagement are specified, including psychological aspects.

18.1

The Relevance of Dag Hammarskjöld

UN Secretary General Dag Hammarskjöld died in 1961.1 His achievements are still relevant in the field of international diplomacy. Perhaps even more so. The number of armed conflicts today is higher than in the 1950s, Hammarskjöld’s time of operative practice. In the period 1989–1999 a total of 110 armed conflicts were waged around the world. By 1999 37 were active (Wallensteen and Sollenberg 2000). This is a higher number of conflicts than recorded for previous decades. At the same, two thirds of the recorded armed conflicts have been terminated, often, through some form of negotiation. This is where issues of diplomacy enter. Hammarskjöld’s diplomacy concerned the peaceful handling of armed conflicts. The 1990s have seen more peace agreements than any period in the entire 20th century. This means that lessons drawn from Hammarskjöld’s experience in the midst of the Cold War can be compared to those of the period after this major conflagration. Thus this chapter searches for lessons learned but it also focuses on Dag Hammarskjöld himself. What made him special, did he have some traits that tell us something about the psychology of diplomacy? When studying Hammarskjöld’s involvement as a third party UN official in a conflict it is important to note that any conflict settlement moves through three phases.

This reproduces Wallensteen, Peter. “Dag Hammarskjöld and the Psychology of Conflict Diplomacy,” in Tommy Gärling et al. (eds). Diplomacy and Psychology: Prevention of Armed Conflict after the Cold War, Singapore: Marshall Cavendish, 2006, pp. 15–42.

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© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_18

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There is an initial phase where the parties continue to give preference to war efforts, and where there is little room for peace-making diplomacy by third parties. The warring party that has the upper hand will be reluctant to allow outsiders to get involved. For the outsiders it might be important to find ways to bring a particular conflict to the legitimate agenda of action for neighbors or international organizations. There is a phase of agenda diplomacy: getting the parties, as well as the international community, to focus on conflict resolution in the conflict. A second phase enters when the parties are interested in finding an agreement, victory is seen as less likely, and as a consequence, they are willing to enter into direct or indirect contact. This is the phase of agreement diplomacy. If it fails, the conflict may revert back to the battlefield, and again bring in the need for the first type of diplomacy. If it succeeds, a third phase of implementation diplomacy enters. This includes the translation of an agreed text into reality, as well as making sure the conditions are conducive for the implementation of the agreement. Diplomacy is needed along the whole process of peacemaking, but it will have different concerns. Agreement diplomacy requires skills in making parties get to know each other, understand the positions of the opposite side and find ways in which incompatibilities can be overcome or transcended. Agenda diplomacy precedes this event. It has an important element of secrecy, tacit understandings and closed-door activities. No less dramatic, but less visible, and thus, it receives less attention. Implementation diplomacy, on the other hand, takes place after the deal is made. It is open, observed but less spectacular. It requires long-term commitment, intimate knowledge of the actors and their priorities, attention to details and to matters and actors that may spoil an agreement. Thus, conflict resolution diplomacy deals with phases that have different priorities and concerns. Needless to say, these conflict phases are not equally long, and they do not necessarily follow linearly, one after each other. Still the distinction is useful. They provide three different measures of “success”. In the first phase, success is to get the conflict to the agenda; in the second to arrive at an agreement, and in the third, to arrive at “normalization”, where war is no longer the main concern. Thus, understanding these three phases of diplomacy is highly relevant. Such insight can, of course, be generated in many ways, not the least by closely analyzing ongoing peace processes. Knowledge may also be gained from looking at modern history and by following one single actor, representing a concerned international community. This is where the experiences of Dag Hammarskjöld enter. His way of dealing with crises as Secretary General of the UN (1953–1961) may give us an understanding of the phases of diplomacy, the methods used and the experiences of success and failure. Thus, this article is devoted to the operative practice of Dag Hammarskjöld and eventually asking if he carried any particular psychological attributes that could explain his achievements. Hammarskjöld was involved in a number of conflicts. Many of these are customary analyzed from the point of view of the parties. The third party is less often attended to and the work of such parties tends to be seen as secondary (Ury 2000). The primary parties take most of any historian’s attention, for instance, and many third

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parties prefer not to have too much light on their work. However, in the case of Dag Hammarskjöld, there is a thorough biography focusing on the Secretary General as a third party in conflict resolution. The present analysis rests entirely on the work of Hammarskjöld done by a single person: Brian Urquhart’s seminal biography, Hammarskjold, published in 1972 and reprinted in 1994. This work provides a balanced appreciation of the impact of Hammarskjöld as an actor. Thus, this chapter is not primarily a contribution to Hammarskjöld’s life as a diplomat, but an attempt to understand psychological and contextual conditions that affect diplomacy in general. It could be objected that the period in which Hammarskjöld acted was atypical. It was a time of very strong polarization between two seemingly coherent, united and hierarchical blocs. There was on the one hand, the West led by the United States in close alliance with Western European states, dominating South America and the rims of East Asia (South Korea, Japan, Taiwan, etc.). On the other hand was the Soviet Union, in strict control over Eastern Europe, closely allied to China and supporting, directly or indirectly, Communist rebellions in countries whose governments were closely tied to the West. The international system was uniquely bipolarized and hierarchical. It might make it difficult to generalize from the experiences of Hammarskjöld. At the same time these features makes this period even more interesting for an understanding of the social space a polarized, conflict-prone relationship leaves for diplomacy. It can be debated whether such possibilities have been enlarged in the post-Cold War period. It is a world, which on the one hand has several poles, more integration and new challenges and on the other hand has one dominant pole from which action is expected more than it is willing to execute. Is the present world more or less hierarchical than the one in which Hammarskjöld found himself? Is the role of a third party more or less constrained? The answers are not obvious. It could safely be stated that Hammarskjöld was the first expression of what we today, without much thought, label an international community. He was using the possibilities vested in his office and he wanted to act in a consistent manner in a series of crises. Accounts of diplomats and their actions have often dealt with actors rooted in their national foreign ministries. They have been pursuing national policies. They may still have achieved a lot in a number of crises (Metternich, Talleyrand, Disraeli, Lloyd George to name a few) or in particular issues (Eleanor Roosevelt). The perspective and basis for action was different from the one Hammarskjöld had to apply as a chief executive of an unwieldy international system. There are other personalities that would constitute interesting comparisons. Ralph Bunche and Javier Perez de Cuellar come to mind. Before proceeding, the concepts in conflict diplomacy need some clarification. Then, crises in which Hammarskjöld were active will be presented, before proceeding to his way of acting.

18.2

Conflict Diplomacy

Which are the traits to be expected in conflict diplomacy? The three phases suggest important differences. Theoretically, the following could be expected.

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When analyzing agenda setting a focus on the UN simplifies the job. There is a formal UN agenda, for the Secretary General or the Security Council. There are rules for how an issue is brought up on the concrete agendas of these institutions. There has to be an appeal to “international peace and security”, which often seems to mean that only inter-state conflicts that threaten to break out into war are to be considered. The perception of a distinction between internal and external violence predominates in international law. It is the external form of violence, sometimes described as “aggression” that determines if the conflict is moved to the agenda of international action. The way a particular conflict is described is important. For an “internal” conflict to enter the agenda, it has to be seen as endangering not only the inhabitants of a particular country, but also a region or the world as a whole. Of course, agenda setting is linked to power. International dominant actors have a greater chance of defining conflicts as international issues or from preventing them to become such issues. The veto vested in the five permanent members of the Security Council gives them particular authority. At the same time, the Secretary General has the mandate, if resorting to Art. 99 of the UN Charter, to bring to the attention of the Security Council the issue “he” (genus according to the Charter) considers threatening. Ultimately, the resulting agenda will be decided by the permanent members: if they accept, a conflict is on the international agenda. In this way they can also instruct the Secretary General to take (or not to take) action in particular questions. It is possible to imagine a situation when the Secretary General does not want to bring matters to the agenda, as this may be disruptive for “his” position or affect quiet diplomacy. Agenda diplomacy is, as a consequence, highly intriguing and not as straightforward as might be imagined. In agreement diplomacy, negotiations between the parties are central and the role of the outsider is to promote the success of such contacts in different ways. This involves meeting the parties face to face; bringing the parties to the same table, if possible; or finding ways in which agreement can be signed if no direct meetings are possible. In general, considerable attention has to be given to the creation of confidence between the warring sides, but also between them and the third party. Often the third party draws on the commitment of a broader grouping of states and actors interested in agreement. There may be a peace supporting coalition, for which the third party is an expression or a spokesperson. Confidence-building is key. In preventive diplomacy this is done before matters receive the attention of the Council or the world media. Thus, the dynamics of reaching agreement is different from the one of bringing issues to the agenda of the international community. Among other matters, it involves working more directly with the parties in conflict, not with the UN structures as such. Finally, turning to implementation diplomacy, it enters most dramatically where signed agreements are falling apart or threaten to do so. In this situation, the confidence between the parties may be eroding very quickly. The outside actor may be the only one who defends the agreement. It gives the third party a tricky role. For instance, should the outsider be the one upholding an agreement the signatories are no longer interested in? It may appear as imposition. Or, even more demanding: what to do if only one side sticks to the agreement? Or if new parties with new

18.2

Conflict Diplomacy

339

concerns enter the situation? The diplomacy required when the de facto coalition that entered into an agreement is no longer holding together is very different from diplomacy in other phases. Implementation diplomacy becomes geared to the recreation of the coalition, but also has to take into account the changing circumstances. Compromises may have to be entertained, but they may contribute to the further erosion of this coalition. Implementation diplomacy may include taking the issue to the international community, but also entails keeping a low profile in order to act preventively. It is likely to be a matter of interpreting what has already been agreed and finding ways to work forward.

18.3

Hammarskjöld’s Record of Conflict Diplomacy

Table 18.1 lists the armed conflicts to which Dag Hammarskjöld devoted particular attention. The evaluation of success and failure follows those made by Urquhart. Other evaluations may be made of Hammarskjöld’s record. The one provided by Urquhart is insightful and balanced. It is also adapted to the type of crises Hammarskjöld faced. There may well be additional crises that should be included, although Table 18.1 is fairly exhaustive and covers those to which Urquhart gives considerable attention. The specific phases of crises may be divided differently. The delimitations in Table 18.1 are seen to correspond to an historian’s understanding of the dynamics of particular crises. Table 18.1 gives a quick overview over the turbulent times involving the personal diplomacy of Dag Hammarskjöld. It sometimes got him in considerable risk-taking. He had a large measure of success: 12 outcomes are categorized in this way. There were six clear-cut failures and two issues left unsolved at the time of his death. There is no record to compare this to, but on the face of it, it is impressive. There is a consistent pattern for the failures: these were crises were Hammarskjöld encountered firm opposition of a determined major power (USA in Guatemala and Laos, Britain in the Middle East, France in Bizerte, the Soviet Union in Hungary and Congo 1960–61). Major power objection was not necessarily the end of crisis management. however. In several instances it was possible for the Secretary General to overcome opposition from the majors, either by mustering support of other permanent members or by drawing on a large following in the General Assembly. Hammarskjöld managed to build strong coalitions in particular issues. These coalitions shifted from one issue to another. It was a bridge-building effort that consumed much time, but where his personal relations to key leaders, particularly among neutral and non-aligned states, were helpful. Also, he appears to have avoided antagonizing all permanent members at the same time. Table 18.1 shows that some conflicts consumed more of Hammarskjöld’s energy than others. It is notable that there were five almost consecutive crises in the Middle East (i.e. the Suez war 1956 and its repercussions). Adding the conflicts over Lebanon and UK relations with Saudi Arabia, it means that one third of his crisis diplomacy was devoted to this region alone. Another third of the crises dealt with

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Table 18.1 Twenty crises. Conflict diplomacy of UN Secretary General Dag Hammarskjöld, 1953–1961. Source: Urquhart, Hammarskjold (1994) Conflict diplomacy

Type of diplomacy

Outcome of conflict

Outcome of DH diplomacy

1. Guatemala 1954

Agenda

Failure

2. US Pilots in China 1954–55 3. Middle East 1956 I 4. Middle East 1956 II (Canal crisis -Oct.) 5. Middle East 1956 III (Suez crisis, Oct 29–Nov. 7) 6. Middle East 1956 IV (UNEF in Egypt, Nov) 7. Hungary 1956 8. Middle East 1957 (Israel leaving Sinai, Gaza) 9. Lebanon 1958 (Infiltration and Western intervention) 10. Cambodia-Thailand 11. UK-Saudi Arabia (Bureimi)

Agreement Implementation Agreement

Government overthrown Pilots freed Cease-fire restored No agreement Cease-fire, withdrawal, PKO Peace keeping

Success

Failure Success

12. Laos 1959 I 13. Laos 1959 II (UN Presence)

Agenda Agenda

14. Congo 1960 I 15. Congo 1960 II (Katanga)

Agenda Implementation

16. Congo 1960 III

Implementation

Invasion Withdrawal, Peacekeeping Observer Group withdrawal Relations restored Eventually solved (after DH’s death) UN subcommittee UN presence, Set up by SG Action by SC Removal of Belgian troops Congo aid through the UN Soviet critique GA support Lumumba killed

Agreement Implementation Agenda Implementation Agreement Agreement Agreement

Success Success Failure

Success

Success Success – Failure Success Success Success Success

17. Congo 1960 IV (Soviet attack Agenda Success on DH) 18. Congo 1960–61 Implementation Failure constitutional crisis 19. Bizerte Agreement Not achieved Failure 20. Congo 1961 (Katanga) Agreement Katanga secession (DH killed) Abbreviations: DH: Dag Hammarskjöld, PKO: Peacekeeping Operation, SC: Security Council, SG: Secretary General, UNEF: UN Emergency Force, US: United States of America

Africa (mostly the Congo). The rest of the world, i.e. Europe, the Americas and much of Asia received less of his diplomatic services. The Cold War was outside his range of action (e.g. conflicts over Germany, Cuba, Taiwan, Indochina). As the overview makes clear, Hammarskjöld was not specializing in one type or pushed out of any particular field of diplomacy. This means he had to be knowledgeable and effective in handling varying circumstances. The fact that the

18.3

Hammarskjöld’s Record of Conflict Diplomacy

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Secretary General was somewhat more engaged in agreement diplomacy, with conflicts that were already on the agenda, is difficult to interpret. In eight of the twenty crises he had this role. As there is, as of now no other Secretary-General’s record to compare to, we do not know what is ‘normal’. It is more noteworthy, that his success rate follows a particular pattern. He recorded the least success in agenda setting (3 out of 6, i.e. 50 percent), the most success in implementation negotiations (5 out of 6, i.e. 83 per cent). Statistically, the differences are too limited for generalizations for the office as such. Still, this particular profile suggests that the common statement “Leave it to Dag” had a particular ring. It often referred to cases of interpretation and implementation of agreements. Agenda setting and agreement making are likely to attract most attention in global policy circles. The complexities may be large, the fears higher, and the interests stronger. Once a settlement is concluded, such pressures subside, and the Secretary General is given more room for maneuver. A holder of the office that has the confidence of the international community will be “left alone” to deal with the “technical” matters that seem to remain. There is also a possible personality factor. Hammarskjöld’s ability to interpret mandates and finding ingenious solutions, principles for action and practical courses of action may explain the profile. Thus, his intellectual capacity was geared to problem-solving. He understood very well that the survival of agreements depended on the ability to settle the first crises that follow the signing of an accord. The implementation of the agreement on peacekeeping troops in 1956 made the mission stick until 1967. His actions in the Congo crises draw on him finding principles that would last into the future, not just mere “fixes” for the day.

18.3.1 Agenda Diplomacy There were several instances of agenda setting diplomacy, and success was recorded in three out of six cases. This is a reasonably satisfactory achievement, and it illustrates the conditions under which a Secretary General has to operate. This is the category with the least success. Hammarskjöld most notable accomplishments were scored in the Congo crisis in 1960, first by his action to bring the issue to the Security Council, where he explicitly used his rights under Article 99 in the Charter. He managed to get extraordinary media attention, in competition with a presidential nomination convention of one of the parties in USA. The other situation refers to the crisis over his own post. He was able to prevent the Soviet Union from gaining support for the idea of a troika replacing him as the sole Secretary General. Hammarskjöld saw that as a move to paralyze the UN in general, not only to impede his actions as a Secretary General in a particular crisis. The failures in agenda diplomacy were in cases which were close to the interest of a particular permanent member (for instance, USA on Guatemala, USSR on Hungary). In the case of Hungary, the new Hungarian government installed after the Soviet invasion 1956 only invited Hammarskjöld to discuss humanitarian aid,

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not the political and military situation. The latter was seen as an internal to the relations between Hungary and the Soviet Union. Thus, the Soviet invasion could not be brought to a decision in the Security Council, and the actions decided on by the General Assembly could not be implemented. Agenda setting, in other words, is clearly in the purview of major powers. It is difficult for other actors to bring issues to the Security Council. When Hammarskjöld succeeded – as in the Congo – he had considerable support from a large coalition of African and Asian states. Their combined voting power in the UN as well as the attention to and optimism for decolonization made this “in line with the times”. Furthermore, this crisis was initially seen to be outside the Cold War, and thus, his actions were acceptable to the permanent members as well. There are instances when Hammarskjöld refrained from bringing matters to the Council. One case is the war in Algeria. Already in 1955 African and Asian countries wanted him to take up the issue. It would have led to a confrontation with France. Hammarskjöld chose to define the conflict as an internal matter, and when the conflict continued to be debated he argued that France was attempting to negotiate a solution (Urquhart 1994: 309). His arguments do not appear convincing. It is more likely that he wanted to avoid a confrontation with a permanent member of the Council, particularly as the likelihood of him achieving a result beyond a demonstration effect was small. There are examples of pre-agenda diplomacy, that is, situations where Hammarskjöld acted before matters came to the Security Council or received wider international attention. In these circumstances, the parties may have accepted his good offices in order to prevent the dispute from reaching the agenda. Urquhart gives an example: the border dispute between Cambodia and Thailand in 1958–59. There are also instances at which Hammarskjöld stalled Security Council action, although it could have had a preventive effect, as it did not have the full support of all sides in a particular conflict. A case is when USA wanted a UN observer team sent to Laos in 1959. Hammarskjöld did not find enough support in the Security Council or among all concerned parties for this idea (Urquhart 1994: 338). He objected but was overruled. This also illustrates the limits of the office. The case still gave an interesting result. A subcommittee was set up and reported on the situation. Hammarskjöld then appointed his own personal representative, an innovation compared to the existing Special Representatives (which were approved by the General Assembly or the Security Council). It appears that this novel channel became a useful way of keeping the Secretary General informed and it also contributed – in the case of Laos – to a stabilization of the internal situation. Hammarskjöld turned a defeat into a constructive move.

18.3.2 Agreement Diplomacy In the eight cases of agreement diplomacy, there is an interesting mixture of success and failure. The Secretary General was the architect of a number of agreements.

18.3

Hammarskjöld’s Record of Conflict Diplomacy

343

There are even examples of near-agreements that potentially solved the issues of conflict. This is most evident in the Canal crisis that preceded the Suez invasion in 1956. By mid-October 1956 Hammarskjöld had secured the support from Egypt for principles that largely met the conditions laid out by the users of the Suez Canal that had been unilaterally nationalized by Egypt. Nevertheless, Britain and France moved on with their war preparations. In November they launched an intervention, coordinated with Israel. Their UN diplomacy aimed at obstructing agreement by pressing particular points, so as to show that the issues could not be solved by diplomacy. Hammarskjöld’s actions threatened this strategy (Urquhart 1994: 167– 169). This illustrates a basic truth, close to a truism, in negotiations and diplomacy: if key parties do not want negotiations to succeed, agreements are unlikely. Again this applies to parties that are strong enough to prevent agreement. For other actors, agreement, through the Secretary General, may have been a preferred alternative to dealing directly with the adversary. Hammarskjöld’s diplomatic break-through came in such a crisis, involving two of the strongest powers of the time, USA and China. There were no diplomatic relations between the two. The issue of US pilots held in China created tensions. It may also have been in the interest of China to use these pilots for improving its international relations. The contacts established by Hammarskjöld led to the release of the pilots in an extraordinary gesture. Later, also direct contacts were established between Beijing and Washington, through their embassies in Warsaw. The key decisions were taken in the two capitals. To allow the Secretary General to succeed was part of a de facto understanding between the major powers. Hammarskjöld could use this to build up his position. The reverse can be seen in other situations. In the case of the Bizerte crisis between France and Tunisia, France was determined not to let Hammarskjöld have a success. This could serve to strengthen the role of an actor France was not willing to strengthen at the time.

18.3.3 Implementation Diplomacy Hammarskjöld became involved in implementation diplomacy, that is, keeping the peace that has been created through agreement, primarily through UN peacekeeping operations. The conditions agreed on for UNEF in Egypt became guiding principles for all peacekeeping operations during the Cold War. The withdrawal of Israeli troops from Sinai in 1957 included considerable negotiations and delicate arrangements. In both these cases, successes were recorded. It should be noted, however, that the UN was not the only actor in bringing this about. In both cases, the role of the USA was highly important. Also in the Congo, Hammarskjöld had to solve problems of implementation of the Council’s resolution. This resulted in severe crises primarily around the secession attempts of Katanga, supported by Belgian interests. Hammarskjöld’s implementation diplomacy became highly transcontinental. It involved meeting the demands of actors in the Congo, handling questions with Belgium and finding workable formulas in New York to keep the

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Security Council onboard. In such complicated situations, Hammarskjöld was a master, able to keep the positions of all parties in mind at the same time. Some of his collaborators only saw one of the three arenas. The intellect of Hammarskjöld may have been well suited for such complex relationships, finding their practical application in very concrete matters. It is interesting that there is only one failure on the part of Hammarskjöld in implementation diplomacy. The issue has been very much debated. The assassination of the first Premier Minister of independent Congo, Patrice Lumumba, in January–February 1960 was upsetting in its brutality. Could the UN have intervened more effectively in this crisis? It would have been a heavy involvement in internal affairs of an independent country, but it may also have served to direct the country’s development in a different direction. In all, the Hammarskjöld record of success is strong, although we have no comparable data to draw on. Thus, this judgment is based on what we see in Table 18.1 as well as on the conditions that Hammarskjöld was operating under. It was a period of shifting tensions in major power relations. UN was able to be a world center in diplomacy.

18.4

Success and Diplomatic Psychology

How can we explain the record of Hammarskjöld? Would any Secretary General have acted like he did? Did his action demonstrate particular traits? Could they be related to his personality? We have already alluded to an important structural element: the interest of major powers and the relationship between them. This is often a determining factor and something all actors in global affairs are acutely aware of. Hammarskjöld’s background made him well suited to understand the significance of the power dimension. His father was Prime Minister of Sweden at a trying moment in the country’s history (World War I). Dag Hammarskjöld worked closely with one of the most influential men in Swedish politics in the first part of the 20th Century, Ernst Wigforss. Later, Hammarskjöld himself was a Cabinet minister. Thus, he was not novel to power. He could appreciate its limits and read the signals when he was going too far in a particular direction. At the same time he was neither an admirer of power nor its humble servant. On the contrary, he knew its mechanisms and had seen how power could be used to serve the needs of the one who wanted to achieve something. It meant knowing the direction of change and finding ways to promote your goals, without provoking unnecessary resistance. Such a reformist approach can be detected in his way of approaching international conflicts. His personality and experience made him adept at the power dimension of UN diplomacy. It is important to note that when categorizing diplomacy as “success” this does not mean success only for Hammarskjöld. Others have been pushing the parties in a similar direction. In the same vein, “failure” does not mean failure only for Hammarskjöld’s efforts. In some instances, Hammarskjöld was the chief negotiator, but he may not have been able to succeed, unless there had been strong support

18.4

Success and Diplomatic Psychology

345

from others (e.g. USA, Canada, African and Asian countries, etc). Thus “success” is success for a constellation of forces interested in agreement, “failure” is failure for a similar constellation. Similarly, failure may not mean failure for diplomacy as such. Other considerations may have been given more weight by primary parties. Coalition-building, in other words, was – and is – integral to the operation of the UN system. A successful Secretary-General has to be an expert at this. Swedish politics may have provided some training, as governments often relied on coalitions or a minority. It gave insight in a negotiation culture for creating majorities. In Hammarskjöld’s coalition-building central was his ability to work, at the same time, with the strongest state in the UN system, USA, and the weakest ones, the newly-independent states. This is the more remarkable as the latter often were highly critical of the USA and the West in general. Noteworthy is that Hammarskjöld repeatedly ran into conflict with the American administration (in Guatemala 1954 and Laos in 1959) and still worked in parallel with it in other cases (the pilots in China 1954–55, Suez 1956, Congo 1960–61). Thus, there was flexibility on both sides, which made the relationship complex and difficult to entangle. It contrasts the relationship to the Soviet Union, which was positive in 1956 (Suez in spite of the Hungary crisis) and went very sour in 1960 (Congo), when the USSR wanted to undermine the entire structure of the UN. There seems to have been a trend of growing tensions. With France, the relationship appeared negative throughout the period (Suez 1956, Bizerte 1961), although Hammarskjöld’s style should have intrigued French leadership. These relations contrast the closeness Hammarskjöld had with many of Third World leaders throughout his period. India’s Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru was significant in many crises. The relationship was strong, but not without disagreement. The implicit coalition that maintained the UN operation in the Congo was not easy to manage. Hammarskjöld was able to maintain it in spite of set backs and turbulence. There is also a short-term and long-term aspect of success. For instance, Hammarskjöld may have scored some success in his work towards a broad coalition government for Laos for a period of time (November 1959–June 1960), all being undone by a series of military coups, civil wars and harsh, right-wing government after August 1960. Hammarskjöld could promote agreement, but not maintain it for a longer period of time, when facing increasing Cold War rivalry over Laos. Thus, short-term success could not always be translated into long-term processes. The power of his position was limited. Elegant and reasonable solutions were not necessarily in the interests of those with more power. Table 18.1 shows both the potentials and the limits of third party diplomacy. This may have been a more frustrating aspect of international diplomacy than would normally be encountered in domestic affairs, particularly Swedish affairs. The Swedish model of welfare building was a construction project where one block was added to the previous one. In international affairs, the first block could suddenly be removed. The cumulative nature of domestic affairs was not translatable to the bewildering reality of conflicts the UN encountered.

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Thus, the success record of Hammarskjöld can largely be attributed to the international circumstances of the time, and Hammarskjöld’s ability to understand and exploit them for the benefit of the UN. Still, we may ask, if there were any special techniques that he employed? Was there a psychology of diplomacy?

18.5

Special Features of Hammarskjöld’s Diplomacy

There are some features, which may have been special to Hammarskjöld. Certain traits stand out. It can be discussed if they were unique or not. They seem to have been associated with his successes. The following are worth recording.

18.5.1 Travel Diplomacy: Going to the Area of Conflict The breakthrough for Hammarskjöld’s diplomacy came with his visit to China in 1954. Meeting the Chinese leader Chou En-Lai paved the way for the later release of the American pilots held by the People’s Republic. This created tremendous attention and general applause, particular in the United States. In most of the subsequent crises listed in Table 18.1 Hammarskjöld went to the scene and personally conducted negotiations. This was the case for the Middle East conflicts in 1956–57, where Hammarskjöld’s first visit in April 1956 laid the foundation of good relations to leading personalities in the region (Ben Gurion, Nasser to name two). He wanted to go to Hungary, but was denied that possibility. In the Lebanon crisis of June 1958, Hammarskjöld presided over the first meeting of the UN Observation Group in Lebanon (UNOGIL), in Beirut. Hammarskjöld’s diplomacy in the crisis in the Congo initially took place in New York. Thanks to his Africa tour half a year earlier, he had gained personal insights and connections, which were highly useful as the Congo crises unfolded. The first UN troops to go to Katanga in August 1960 were led by Hammarskjöld personally. His aircraft was circulating around the airfield in Elisabethville while he was negotiating the landing of the UN troops with the Katangese leader, a daring case of diplomacy, not repeated by many world leaders. Indeed, it was on a trip of personal diplomacy that Hammarskjöld died. This form of personal diplomacy became Hammarskjöld’s trademark. It was more effective at the time than it might be today. It was not easy to travel as much as Hammarskjöld did, and leaders were not used to as many meeting as they are today. One visit then may be what ten visits are today. To make an agreement was an opportunity that might not come back again. Also, Hammarskjöld’s travels were very closely associated with particular crises, which were, thus, elevated to central concern. In today’s world with more routine travelling such personal diplomacy may no longer be as effective.

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Special Features of Hammarskjöld’s Diplomacy

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18.5.2 Build on Mutual and Personal Trust Egypt’s President Nasser had never “gone back on anything he said to me personally” Hammarskjöld said to Nasser when others complained about Nasser’s action (Urquhart 1994: 269). He trusted that promises made to him would be kept, but it also made him convey promises to others. Thus, deals could hinge on the ability of others to fulfill their pledges. The least that was required was that everybody understood the promises in a reasonably similar way. By establishing trustful relations, partly through travel diplomacy, partly while in New York, Hammarskjöld could be a channel of contact, but also a spider in a web. He was often the only one that maintained relationships with opposite sides, and could communicate messages from one to the other. He was able to deliver correct messages with the necessary interpretation, and with added-on proposals for ways out. In the end the trust in Hammarskjöld depended on an agreement being carried out as intended. Nasser responded to Hammarskjöld’s comment: “I wish to maintain that record” (Urquhart 1994: 269). Thus, a promise made to Hammarskjöld was a promise not broken. In an international system often described as “anarchical” with actions only guided by “national interest” it is enlightening to find that a promise is a promise, even though the actor to which it is given does not command an army or even represent a state. Hammarskjöld obviously established such relations to many political leaders, e.g. Jawaharlal Nehru, Chou-En Lai, many leaders in the Middle East and the King of Laos (Urquhart 1994: 148, 355). In the Lebanon crisis of 1958, Nasser made some commitments to Hammarskjöld and US intelligence confirmed that Nasser carried them out (Urquhart 1994: 275). The strategy worked with the leaders Hammarskjöld encountered. It was less successful in the turbulent Congo crisis.

18.5.3 Creating Diplomatic Leverage Hammarskjöld had little traditional power. There were no forces under his command, no economic resources that could be used as leverage (but economic assistance could be raised, as a carrot). Thus, his power was had its bases in civilian, non-military resources. Legally it rested with the UN Charter, of course, but the practical implication came from Hammarskjöld’s strong position in the UN itself. By threatening to bring a conflict to the agenda, he could gain leverage. By having them on the agenda, he could convince parties by explaining possible outcomes of votes in the Security Council or General Assembly. With the peacekeeping troops as an instrument even more leverage could be gained. The UN arena was, so to say, Hammarskjöld’s home turf. With strong support from the African, Asian and some other countries, he wielded remarkable influence.

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The requirement for this strategy was that issues came to the UN. Thus, on matters kept off the UN agenda he had no real significance. The Soviet invasion of Hungary illustrated this, as did the US actions in Guatemala. In neither case could he affect the issues. The same is true, of course, for the German and Berlin questions, the crises over Cuba in 1959–61 and other questions strongly related to Cold War dynamics. Clearly, Hammarskjöld was well aware of this global dichotomy. His actions in the Congo aimed at preventing the Cold War from spreading to this country as well. In that ambition he was, no doubt, successful. Congo was not divided between East and West, nor was it divided between North and South. The peacekeeping operation gave Hammarskjöld leverage; in fact it was an Army, under UN command. Also, international economic assistance was to be channeled through the UN, an additional factor that increased the significance of the UN and of Hammarskjöld, in this particular crisis. The problem faced by the UN later, that countries gained influence over the peacekeeping operation by threatening to bring their contingents home, was not something encountered by Hammarskjöld. This also meant that Hammarskjöld’s future position depended strongly on the outcome of the Congo crisis. It was a risky operation also from the point of view of the international standing of the Secretary-General.

18.5.4 Act Early, When Possible Hammarskjöld’s actions in Guatemala, Middle East 1956 I and II and Lebanon all aimed at preventing conflicts from escalating. In two cases there was (Middle East I and Lebanon) some element of success in this, at least for the immediate time period. In two other, Hammarskjöld was effectively blocked by permanent members (USA in Guatemala, Britain and France in Middle East II). The term “preventive diplomacy” was coined by Hammarskjöld, and has again achieved prominence in the 1990s. The assumption is that in an earlier phase of a conflict, the positions of the parties have not hardened and thus, there is more room for finding a conflict solving formula. Once conflict action has set in, violence has taken place and troops are in battle, the options quickly narrow. The mixed record in preventive diplomacy also indicates some of the difficulties encountered. It may sometimes simply be too early to act and parties may not see the necessity of outsiders contributing to a peaceful settlement. When Hammarskjöld discussed the situation in Guinea (Conacry) with French President de Gaulle in July 1959 arguing that the economic decline of Guinea – as predicted by de Gaulle – should be prevented through assistance de Gaulle responded that he was “complètement désintéressé” (Urquhart 1994: 379). Many of the possibilities for such early action were nevertheless used in other conflicts. Hammarskjöld’s successful engagement in Lebanon built on the establishment of UNOGIL, a fact-finding mission, which credibly could show that the allegations of “infiltration” were exaggerated. The risk of conflict escalation was reduced.

18.5

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18.5.5 Coalition-Building This was, as already noted, as an important element in Hammarskjöld’s way of operating. This means having all parties agree on the procedure that he wanted to follow, and from him to object if “wrong” procedures are applied (as happened in Laos 1959, according to Hammarskjöld). To be efficient, coalition-building requires not only that the Secretary General can operate with the member-states through their representatives, but also can go directly to the real decision-makers in international security affairs, that is, the political leaders. His intensive travelling gave him such access, and this in turn gave him further access to others. Hammarskjöld could often operate in a spiral of positive expectations. Others thought that he had leverage, his opinions mattered, and thus new coalitions could continuously be molded for the issues that arose, and leverage created. The coalitions shifted over time, from the success with the case with the American pilots in 1954–55, to the support of most member-states in the Suez crisis in 1956 and to the split in the Security Council in the Congo conflict.

18.5.6 Protect the Integrity of the Office of the Secretary General The standing Hammarskjöld acquired for himself and the UN at times seems to have tempted him to think of the institutions and his office as a force above the politics of others. It might be turned into an independent actor in international affairs (Urquhart 1994: 258–259). This would be unacceptable to the majority of the member-states. In fact, Hammarskjöld was coming close to such a position in international affairs. The hot debate between him and the Soviet leader, Nikita Khrushchev, in the autumn of 1960 on the role of the Secretary General, had such undercurrents. The Soviet proposal for a troika replacing the Secretary General reflected dissatisfaction with the independence of the office. This is also what Hammarskjöld saw and, thus, he defended his position vigorously in a remarkable and defiant speech to the General Assembly in October 1960 (Urquhart 1994: 456– 472). The role of the Secretary General was also extended through Hammarskjöld’s uses of the positions of Special Representatives (SRSGs). It was a way to enlarge the commitment of the Secretary General, not a way of avoiding the office from being involved. Hammarskjöld used it as an extension of his own prestige. The representatives were to sense that they also did work from that position. In line with this was the creation of the new posts as Personal Representatives, with even closer links to the Secretary General.

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18.5.7 Multi-Arena Diplomacy A trait of significance is to manage, what today sometimes is described as two-level games (Putnam 1988) i.e. to be able to work on several different arenas (international as well as domestic). As mentioned, Hammarskjöld operated on three arenas in the Congo crisis: in Congo itself, in Belgium and in the UN. These were different dynamics and only he had full insights and understanding of what went on. The interplay between what one actor did in one arena to what another did thousands of kilometers away may not have been apparent to each of the separate actors. Hammarskjöld saw the entire picture. It certainly made operations highly fragile and difficult to maintain. It required an ability to assimilate considerable amounts of information, weigh it and find imaginative ways of moving forward. In the 1950s it was probably novel to operate in this way. The term two-level games suggests that political leaders in international affairs consider both their country in relation to other countries, and their own standing in domestic affairs. In UN politics and much of international diplomacy, this is too limited a perspective. There are constantly more levels and actors to consider. There are the internal dynamics of a great number of states (not only the major powers, for instance), and the special politics of UN policy making, but also the international relations entangling major powers in difficult webs of linkages and conflicts. The way leaders handle these complexities is an increasingly urgent research task. On the one hand, there is the Hammarskjöld approach of trying to anticipate what will happen in this entire web, and thus take actions, which may prevent the worst scenarios from materializing. This is an anticipatory and preventive strategy, which relies on information and political intuition. There is another strategy, which is trial and error. Leaders may try a particular course of action, to see what will result. The approach seems to be ‘if it works, it works; if it doesn’t, find an excuse and still claim victory’. The strategy is convenient, but assumes authoritarian control over a society. It is not likely to work for a UN Secretary General. The seven features are special, action-oriented and general traits. They are available to any third party or Secretary General. They do not necessarily reflect any personal traits of Hammarskjöld’s, except for his skill in using them. There were, however, two noteworthy factors, which may have been particular to Hammarskjöld himself: risk-taking and stamina.

18.5.8 Hammarskjöld’s Risk-Taking This could be seen in many instances. There was considerable risk in going to Beijing in 1954 without any guarantees of a successful outcome. The risks were increased by the media coverage and by the difficulties in estimating what the leaders of the People’s Republic of China would think of a representative from an organization to which they did not have access. By involving himself personally,

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and, thus, his office in negotiations, visits, and proposals there was also a possibility of undermining whatever position he had. Failure may lead to further failure, as success may stimulate further success. He was well aware that he took a “calculated risk”, e.g. in Laos 1959, and in the Congo, where he also was concerned over the consequences from not acting (Urquhart 1994: 353, 389). He also admitted, speaking of Congo that “I am not optimistic” (July 11, 1960). Still he took the risks, as he said in a reply to King Baudouin of Belgium, after balancing all the factors. Certainly, entering with UN troops into Katanga in August 1960 was a daring move as was his last flight to Ndola in September 1961 (1994: 394, 414, 416–427). This was not bravery for the sake of bravery, however. It was the result of calculations. In a way it may reflect his earlier career as an economist, giving training in weighing plus and minus. He was, in a sense, an early user of game theory, estimating the utilities of different moves. The record, furthermore, suggests that he often made the correct estimates.

18.5.9 Stamina and Simplicity There is considerable testimony to Hammarskjöld’s ability to work. The breakthrough visit to Beijing took place in January 1955 (after a flight from New York via London, Paris, Delhi, Canton, Hankow to Beijing) when the weather was very cold. Hammarskjöld still walked around in the city without a hat and “at a terrific pace”. His visit to the Middle East in April 1956 is described as a “diplomatic marathon”. His brisk walking was also commented on by Lebanese security guards who had difficulties in keeping up with the Secretary General. In June 1958, he flew to Beirut, and immediately set out to work until 2.30 the following morning only having a meal consisting of mangos and whisky. Another example is his tour through Africa in December 1959 and January 1960 when he visited 24 countries and territories in less than a month and a half, consistently full of enthusiasm (Urquhart 1994: 104, 141, 144, 266, 381). Clearly, Hammarskjöld was not fuzzy about living conditions. When visiting the Congo in July 1960, he shared meals with the entire staff in the simple apartment building housing the UN mission, combing eating with work (Urquhart 1994: 410). The informal work-style appealed to Hammarskjöld. The many flights at long distance in an age without the relative comfort of present travelling, improvisations for work, food and housing, late working hours and early morning sessions, all could have served to wear down any persons in this position. This is without accounting for all the problems of diplomacy, economy and politics that had to be tackled with a sharp intellect. The explanation for Hammarskjöld’s ability may be found in a comment made already at his visit to Beijing in 1955. Ahmed Bokhari, from Pakistan, commented on the Swedes, which included Dag Hammarskjöld’s nephew Peder Hammarskjöld and the Swedish Ambassador: “I was the only person in the party that was used to a reasonable climate. Everybody else in his weaker moments had been an Alpine climber” (Urquhart 1994: 104). Clearly,

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Hammarskjöld was an outdoor person as soon as he could get time for it. His physical strength must have interacted strongly with his ability to withstand long travels, work late and still keep his mind fresh. Indeed, he was also the Vice-President of the Swedish Tourist Association, the Swedish counterpart of National Geographic Society. He went on long hikes into the wilderness, writing articles about it in the Association magazine. These particular traits of Hammarskjöld were part of his success. Particularly important was his ability to forge coalitions that supported his actions but also expressed the interests of the coalition. These are political skills. The UN Secretary General is, of course, a political actor, and Hammarskjöld turned acting into an art. We have also noted that he was willing to take risks. These were risks for peace, not for his country, God or any other general matters. The risk-taking aspect is somewhat of a surprise. At his election, he was expected to be more of a ‘secretary’, and officer, not an agenda setter and promoter of a UN perspective of conflict resolution. The transformation is challenging and worthy of consideration. Was this a feature of Hammarskjöld himself, his perception of the duties the office required of him, or a result of the particular circumstances? It points to the interplay between personal psychology and international society.

18.6

Conclusions for Diplomacy

The three types of diplomacy identified–agenda, agreement and implementation diplomacy, respectively – suggest three different tasks for international diplomacy as well as for research. As we have seen, Hammarskjöld, in a remarkable way, mustered them all. To get an issue to the agenda requires that it is presented in a way which makes it relevant for the international community, thus possibly leading to concerted action. In the 1950s, this was largely possible only in inter-state conflicts. The Congo crisis was an internal issue, with huge potential international implications, and Hammarskjöld was able to generate international action. It is now safe to say that the UN action prevented the country from falling apart, although it is hard to project what would have happened without UN action. Today, more issues are on the agenda of international diplomacy, and that humanitarian concerns provide new inroads to such diplomacy. Still, it remains a puzzle what determines the agenda. Is it possible for a strong-willed political leader to bring any matter to the agenda? Are there special features explaining how a conflict is “detected”? Media often appears to set the agenda, but it will give attention to matters believed to concern international power. This interplay requires closer scrutiny. In agreement diplomacy, Hammarskjöld’s strategy emphasized the ability to actually solve the issue at hand. He was more successful than he expected, for instance, in the Canal crisis in 1956. He was about to deprive two major powers, Britain and France, of their main argument for a secretly planed military intervention. It suggests that issues actually can be settled, if parties want to have them

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settled. Why would they not want them to be settled? Hammarskjöld’s experience suggests that this is not necessarily so, even among leading states and top decision-makers. Is there a particular attraction in actually fighting? Where does it come from, a gender factor? Hammarskjöld’s final tour was planned for a meeting where he would negotiate with an actor that was not known for his credibility. Previous negotiations had rested on the assumption that a promise is a promise. Was it likely that the leader of Katanga would be willing and able to honor an agreement? Hammarskjöld took a gamble. Perhaps there are certain leaders with whom one should not make deals? In implementation diplomacy, Hammarskjöld scored the most successes. It required ingenuity as well as authority. The authority came from the mandate and the accords made previously. Ingenuity was Hammarskjöld’s particular contribution. The 1990s have been an era of peace agreement making. It has stopped some wars, it has postponed some others. It has focused on the difficulty of implementation of agreements. At the time of signing it may seem easy, in reality it is more difficult. Little research has focused such transitions. The realities faced by Hammarskjöld are present today as well. The international system may have changed, but no change is total. It is now more urgent than ever to face the challenges of psychology and diplomacy.

References Bercovitch, Jacob and Jeffrey Z. Rubin (eds) 1992. Mediation in International Relations, New York, NY: St. Martin’s Press. Crocker, Chester A., Fen Osler Hampson and Pamela Aall 1999. “Multiparty Mediation in the Conflict Cycle”, in Crocker, Chester A., Fen Osler Hampson and Pamela Aall (eds) 1999. Herding Cats: Multiparty Mediation in a Complex World, Washington, D.C.: United States Institute of Peace, pp 19–45. Fisher, Roger and William Ury, 1981 Getting to Yes, Boston, MA: Houghton. Keashly, Loraleigh and Ronald J. Fisher 1990. “Towards a Contingency Approach to Third-Party Intervention in Regional Conflict: A Cyprus Illustration”, International Journal, 45: 425–453. Kriesberg, Louis 1992. International Conflict Resolution, Yale University Press, New Haven, Conn. Pérez de Cuéllar, Javier 1997. Pilgrimage for Peace, St. Martin’s Press, New York. Putnam, Robert D. 1988 ‘Diplomacy and Domestic Politics: The Logic of Two-Level Games’, International organization. 42 (3): 427–460. Urquhart, Brian, Hammarskjold, 1972, reprinted 1994, Norton, New York. Urquhart, Brian 1987, pbk 1991. A Life in Peace and War, Norton, New York. Urquhart, Brian 1993. Ralf Bunche. An American Odyssey, Norton, New York, pbk 1998. Ury, William 2000. The Third Side, Penguin Books. Wallensteen, Peter and Margareta Sollenberg 2000 “Armed Conflict, 1989–99”, Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 37, No 5, pp 635–649.

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Zartman, I. William and Maureen R. Berman 1982. The Practical Negotiator. New Haven, Conn. Yale University Press. Zartman, I. William 1989. Ripe for Resolution. Conflict and Intervention in Africa, updated edition. Oxford University Press, New York, Oxford. Zartman, I. William and J. Lewis Rasmussen (eds) 1997. Peacemaking in International Conflict. Methods and Techniques, Washington, D.C.: United States Institute of Peace Press.

Chapter 19

International Response to Crises of Democratization in War-Torn Societies Peter Wallensteen

Abstract Considerable faith has been put into democracy-building for long-term peace following civil war. In this case study from 2008, Peter Wallensteen deals with Uganda after the civil war that ended in victory for the rebel group. Initially it pursued an inclusive policy. However, by 2004 the leader, Yoweri Museveni, began increasingly to move away from the democratic tenets. It gave the international donor community a series of generally applicable problems: whether and when to react to this, for how long and by what means? This article discusses solutions to these dilemmas in preventing the erosion of democracy.

19.1

The Post-War Situation

Post-war situations are difficult periods of transition, involving many simultaneous dilemmas for new and inexperienced governments.1 Historically, the Weimar Republic in defeated Germany is a classical case, where the first democratic government led by Social Democrats had to administer the disaster created by the previous regime and also do this while abiding by the punitive stipulations of the Versailles Peace Treaty. Germany struggled through a turbulent period of the 1920s, only to be severely hit by the Great Depression with mass unemployment and the exploitation of these conditions by a ruthless new challenge, the Nazis. Central issues in Hitler’s agitation were the Versailles Treaty and the weakness of democratic governance. The international community at the time chose to take a hands-off attitude, and allowed the Treaty to be undermined parallel to the elimination of democracy. A new, even more devastating, war began, twenty years after the ending of the previous one. This example highlights the significance of peace conditions, as well as the importance for international organizations to be concerned

This is originally published as Wallensteen, Peter 2008. “International Response to Crises of Democratization in War-Torn Societies”, in Jarstad, Anna K. and Timothy D. Sisk (eds) 2008. From War to Democracy. Dilemmas of Peacebuilding, Cambridge University Press, pp. 213–238. Republished with permission. 1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_19

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with their broader implications. The fate of the Weimar Republic and the rise of Nazi Germany created a lasting guilt feeling among democratic states. Peacemaking today differs in many respects, but the historical lessons should always be kept in mind. The transition from war to peace is cumbersome and the hope to build a functioning democracy should be cautioned with a need for long-term thinking and an understanding of the dangers of failure. The post-World War I experience also suggests that it is necessary to survey one or two decades before trends become clearer, whether negative, as in this case, or positive, which is the experience of the Federal Republic of Germany after World War II. This also illustrates that the dilemmas for the international community are whether, when, for how long, and in what ways to engage in the face of a crisis in the democracy building one is favoring. Since the late 1990s, international donor agencies have taken up democracy as a major theme, and there is an emerging literature on development assistance and promotion of democracy and good governance as part of conflict prevention (Collier et al. 2003; Sida 2005). It has been demonstrated that democratic states rarely fight wars with one another and that democracies have fewer internal wars than other forms of governance (Russett 1993; Russett and Oneal 2001). Since the Cold War, it is clear that peace agreements in internal conflicts over government often resort to democratic constitutions and elections as ways of ending conflict (Harbom et al. 2006). Supporting the development of a sustained democracy appears a reasonable approach in post-war societies. It might help to bring about stability in difficult conditions in order to ensure that a conflict does not return. But the possibility of supporting peace through democracy building is an avenue that has become questioned (see, e.g., Paris 2004). This approach to peacebuilding may result in difficult dilemmas at critical junctures in a democratization process. The stipulations of a democracy-oriented peace agreement may be difficult to implement. Election outcomes may favor groups challenging the peace. The pace of democratization may be different in different parts of a society (socially, regionally). Parliamentary stalemates may prevent reforms of society. Some studies demonstrate that the transition from autocratic conditions to democratic ones may be the most conflict- and war-prone phase of all (Hegre et al. 2001; Human Security Report 2005). That observation might be particularly applicable to post-war conditions. Taking this together, the way in which democracy is promoted is one of the most critical issues of post-war crises of implementation. However, the literature on how international organizations (whether governmental or non-governmental) or media react to particular crises in such a transition is surprisingly limited. There is some insight suggesting that such issues rarely enter the international agenda. For instance, the armed conflicts that reach the UN Security Council are regularly less than half of all ongoing armed conflicts (Malone 2004; Wallensteen 2007). They have to pass through the screening of governments (often unwilling to allow internal conflicts in their own countries to become internationalized), regional powers (preferring to deal with matters bilaterally or in regional bodies under their control), and the veto powers of the UN Security Council Permanent Members. If

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we add that postwar democratization crises constitute a subset of such conflicts, it can be asked why they should be of concern to, for instance, the United Nations. They may not easily be understood as threats to international peace and security, which is stipulated for Security Council action. Still, there is the observation that the UN is involved in democracy promotion , and particularly in smaller countries rather than larger ones (Newman and Rich 2004). On the whole, the UN is probably more engaged in weak states than in major powers, and democracy promotion is no exception to this pattern. However, in the case of UN involvement there is an interest in the long-term construction of democratic governance, for instance as part of a peacekeeping mission (Ludwig 2004; Newman 2004). The focus in this text is on the crisis or short-term situations: when there is an observed threat to democratization, how is that handled? If such crises are not dealt with in a constructive way, it has implications for the subsequent efforts of democratization. Clearly, there is a doctrinal development in the international understanding of when international institutions should react: democracy issues are seen to be part of the international agenda in principle. It needs to be seen in practice as well. There is a record of the UN reacting to military coups overthrowing elected governments (Haiti 1993; Sierra Leone 1997; see Farer 2004). This is not consistent, however. The military takeover in Thailand in September 2006 did not resulted in any official Security Council action, whereas a similar event in Fiji in November generated two press statements. This refers to a situation where the democratic system is overturned by unconstitutional means from “inside” the country. There is also the possibility of outside force being used in overthrowing a regime, often without prior UN approval (Panama 1989; Iraq 2003, interestingly neither case directly linked to post-war conditions), sometimes with a global understanding (Afghanistan 2001). However, the number of military coups is low, as are the military interventions. There are few instances of this kind to react to. In more common post-war situations the dilemmas may look different. Continued development towards sustained democratic society may be disrupted, not by constitutionally external forces (military factions, outside powers) but by the participants themselves, notably a government clinging to power or a well-organized opposition using means beyond the democratic framework. These are the more limited democratization crises to which this chapter is addressed. The international community is likely to face difficult problems when confronting such a democratization crisis. The amorphous international community consists of organizations and actors supporting the values of democracy, human rights, welfare, and peace. Its shape will vary but may include UN organs, the European Union (EU), donor states, and international civil society organizations (Wallensteen 2007: 251–258). It will, almost by definition, exhibit differences of opinion and thus be hard to move in a uniform direction. The focus in this text is on the actual behavior of this community and how it tends to deal with dilemmas it faces when confronting a democratization crisis. Thus this article does not address what would be the “best” choice, but rather tries to understand which courses of action are probable under what conditions.

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More specifically this work deals with the four dilemmas of this project (Jarstad 2008) in the following ways: First, there is the issue whether to react, the systemic dilemma: does the international community react at all or does it prefer to let the local actors “play it out” among themselves? Second, it discusses when the international community is likely to react and when to stop reacting, the temporal dilemma: for how long is the international community sustaining the reactions that it chooses? Third, it raises the choice of with what means: which actions are legitimate and are they also effective – the vertical dilemma – and how do the targets of action react? Fourth, by analyzing the three first dilemmas also the horizontal dilemma is brought out: which segments of the international system are included in a particular pattern of reactions and which ones are not, whether by deliberate exclusion or by their own choice? The strength of international consensus is possibly a significant determining factor for action and impact. There is no claim that this text will provide definitive answers to these questions. The framework of understanding post-war developments as dilemmas, however, is a fruitful way of approaching reality, and some novel issues can, hopefully, be raised. Mostly this will be done by way of illustrative examples.

19.2

A Democratization Crisis: Uganda 2005

Developments in Uganda constitute a plausible starting point. The victor of the Ugandan civil war, Yoweri Museveni, received solid international support for pursuing a fairly generous and inclusive policy, aimed at economic reform and social reconstruction. In the Constitution of 1995 it was stipulated that the president could stay in office for only two terms. This was applauded and donor support continued, in spite of signs of a less than democratic implementation of policies in the country. By late 2004, however, Museveni faced the possibility of having to step down, after being in power since his military victory in 1986. He chose instead to amend the Constitution, so as to allow himself to run for a third term. His main opponent, Dr. Kizza Besigye, previously exiled, returned in November 2005 to contest the elections, only to be arrested on charges of treason and rape (Tangri 2005). The international donor community reacted in December, when, for instance, Sweden and the United Kingdom decided to freeze further disbursement of direct budgetary support to Uganda. The respect for human rights and democracy was stipulated in the bilateral agreements, and thus Uganda was seen to have breached that stipulation. There was even a fear of a military takeover. The international community began to respond, in what it saw as significant ways to uphold the principles of democracy, and prevent a new polarization in the country, which already was involved in armed conflicts both internally and externally. These acts by donors could be seen as promoting democracy and preventing escalation of conflict at the same time. The strains on Uganda’s path to sustained democracy had by then been visible for at least a year, but also the election campaign in 2001 could have been questioned. Clearly, donors preferred a

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A Democratization Crisis: Uganda 2005

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quieter dialogue with the regime, rather than making public pronouncements. As the international community had been involved in promoting democratization, it would be difficult not to react at all. Its first choice was for a less confrontational approach. When this clearly did not work, firmer reactions were slow in coming. The constitutional change as such could not be opposed, as it was regarded as a matter of Uganda’s internal affairs. However, the arrest of a leading opponent (and accompanying measures against his supporters) threatened the fairness of the electoral campaign. These seem to be the events that triggered international reaction. A free and fair electoral process is central for democratic development. Without this, the elections themselves and their outcome can be disputed. Not to react to the arrest might have reduced credibility in the international stand on democratization in Uganda. This example demonstrates how a series of events can trigger the international community’s engagement. Still, the reactions were far from concerted (individual donors taking different steps at different times) and restricted to some forms of development assistance, not all. Was this likely to be effective in stemming the erosion of democracy in Uganda? With this example in mind, we may ask which are the issues that will be seen as a democratization crisis? The discussion on good governance suggests a number of such issues: the rule of law, free and fair elections, free media, a vibrant civil society, independence of the judiciary, independence of the representative body (parliament, national assembly), secure human rights, widespread participation. With this wide understanding of good governance and democratization, there are a number of events that could be seen as “crisis” or “warning signs.” Clearly, only some of these will trigger international reactions, although there might a logical sequence to many of the events. The removal of judges as a way of controlling the judiciary is unlikely to be seen as such a crisis but may be a first step for a government to maintain itself in power. The recruitment of staff into the central administration, and even biased or corrupt operations in the state machinery will seldom unleash concerted reactions. In the reporting – by diplomats and media – this will no doubt be observed, but not seen to be enough to single out a particular government or country in an environment where similar events have taken place before or are common in the region. For instance, the closing down of universities when students or teachers have voiced criticism seems very seldom to engage international governmental organizations. Even increased regime control over media or over civil society tends not to stimulate reactions. However, the donor community is more likely to react to this, for instance as part of the negotiations on renewal of development assistance. Here, there is another dynamics at work: civil society and media will have colleagues in neighboring or donor countries that react, thus stimulating political consideration. If there were more solidarity in the university community, actions curtailing academic freedom might also enter the arena of political reaction. A hypothesis is that the type of democratization crisis that is more likely to generate international action is the one that directly concerns the distribution of power in a country, notably local (governmental or non-governmental) actions against the parliament and against the electoral process. Thus, it is here suggested

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that the electoral process is the single most typical event that is seen as a carrier of democratization and a significant sign of progression toward “good governance” and democracy. Threats to this process may trigger international action. There are several explanations for this. In a democracy, elections have a particular standing as a way of determining the political strength of actors. This is so, although most analysts would agree that election outcomes might, in fact, be the result of a number of earlier actions. Furthermore, threats to and/or manipulation of elections during the course of a public campaign are likely to draw considerable media attention and thus result in demands for reactions. In addition, as the international community we discuss here largely is constituted by democratic states this community is likely to understand the threats to elections and, thus, be more willing to react. These possible explanations are illustrated by the events in Uganda. This case, however, also suggest that responses to events that threaten elections might be too limited a perspective and even too late a moment to react firmly. Let us then proceed to discuss whether and when international reactions are likely in democratizing processes—by what means, with what degree of consensus, and for how long. In doing this, the different dilemmas will be illustrated, and, as will be made clear, several dilemmas may emerge at the same time. This helps to show the complexities facing political decision-makers when various triggering events make decisions necessary.

19.3

International Response: React or Not?

The systematic dilemma refers to the issue of ownership and posits the question of whether there is (or should be) international or local control over democracy building. Ideologically, the international community would normally adhere to the position of giving primacy to local ownership. However, many democratization processes are nurtured by international actors, through, for instance, development assistance. Thus, there is international involvement, making triggering events not only a matter of local politics but also an international concern. Furthermore, from the point of view of the international system, a post-war crisis in implementation of a peace agreement or of an agreed democratizing constitution can be seen as an early warning sign of a possible return to armed conflict. To react also becomes a matter of conflict prevention. A common lesson from the 1990s is the need to react early to have a maximum impact. The primary responsibility for the UN is to prevent war. Security Council actions under Chapter VII can only be taken to deal with a threat to international peace and security. The idea of conflict prevention, however, highlights the possibility of reacting under the less demanding Chapter VI that asks for the pacific settlement of disputes. Democracy promotion per se is not in the UN Charter, and action in this field will require broad agreement to be pursued. Since the end of the Cold War, the UN Security Council has regularly concerned itself with internal affairs and also with democratic conditions. The report by the UN Secretary-General called “An Agenda for Democratization” in

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International Response: React or Not?

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1996 is credited with giving the UN a firmer role in this. The UN practice since then has made democracy a significant concern (Newman 2004: 194). These are factors that would generate a willingness to respond in the face of a crisis in democratization. At the same time, democratization is a highly sensitive process. International reactions are likely to be interpreted in terms of both who pursues them (a matter of the West versus others, i.e., a horizontal dilemma) and their impact on the local power struggles in the concerned society (who gains, who loses, i.e., affecting the vertical dilemma). The international bodies can easily be seen as partial – by intention or in effect – and supporting certain social forces. This contradicts a basic tenet in international governmental donor policy to remain “above,” “beyond,” or “outside” such domestic power struggles. It is an issue that has faced all peacekeeping operations in internal conflicts since the first one in the Congo in 1960. Today, the inhibitions against acting and even being partial may be lower, as long as it is justified in terms of promoting democracy. The case of Uganda demonstrates this. The threat of deteriorating conditions in Uganda’s democracy has not been a matter for the UN Security Council. It has not even passed a resolution on the ongoing armed conflict in Northern Uganda, although the issue has been addressed in other ways. The UN Security Council has taken up Uganda’s relations with the neighbors to the east and south: The Democratic Republic of Congo and Rwanda. It is not likely that the electoral question in Uganda will come to the Council’s agenda unless it can be seen to lead to a serious international situation. Thus, the UN is constrained and the principle of non-involvement in internal affairs is likely to prevail. A broad international coalition behind actions is less probable. The horizontal dilemma of who should intervene was actually highlighted and the outcome in this case has been that the UN did not act at all. Consequently, the actors dealing with Uganda’s democratic crisis were instead major donors, who have their own reasons for this (not the least that it was their taxpayers’ money that were supplied based on agreements that were contradicted). In other words, the question of whether and when to react, for an international body, will be limited by its mandate, which is an expression of the underlying understanding of why the organization exists in the first place. In bilateral relations other paths can be followed. A hypothesis is, however, that matters will turn out differently if the international body is already involved in the situation. As noted, the civil war in Uganda had not robustly entered the UN Security Council agenda, and as a consequence, there was no record of a UN Security Council commitment to internal democratic development. This contrasts other cases. Rich (2004) provides a list of twenty such situations, all relating to wars that have had considerable and long-term UN commitment, going from Namibia (first resolution in 1978) to Afghanistan (in 2001). For different reasons – decolonization, regionally destabilizing civil wars, and global terrorism – the world body has become engaged and thus resorted to dealing with the situation by promoting democratic solutions. It can thus be suggested that the way an international organization such as the UN enters a conflict is fundamental for understanding which democratic challenges are likely to result in

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action by that organization. Once committed, electoral irregularities are likely to be interpreted as issues for preventive action and the world body will remain engaged. Uganda’s situation was not on the agenda of the world body. Also the country had a record that generated international support for its policies, internally as well as externally, thus, in effect, giving more autonomy to its leader. The democracy crisis of 2005 did not connect to a previous history of Uganda as an agenda item. It may now be valuable to turn to another example. An entirely different case is the international involvement in Bosnia-Herzegovina, where the Office of the High Representative (OHR) often reacts to events, which are seen to threaten the 1995 Dayton Peace Accords and prevent progress toward a multiethnic democratic society. Thus, OHR has removed candidates from electoral roles, restricted parliamentarians, and even replaced members of the cabinet. This has made the OHR a central source of power in the country, highly contested by all the groups. In reality, OHR is a body appointed from abroad, albeit by democratic states, and has not emerged through a democratic process in the country in which it is operating. It makes Bosnia-Herzegovina a democracy with an “enlightened” overlord. As the heavy international peacekeeping presence is seen as necessary more than a decade after the peace agreement, this case also illustrates the protracted nature of a “robust” democracy promoting effort. The issue of democracy promotion thus relates to the horizontal dilemma by asking which body is to react to a democratization crisis. An increasing number of organizations have democracy explicitly on their agenda. This includes the EU, OSCE, and NATO, all active in conflicts and democracy issues in the larger European space. The Organization of American States (OAS) takes this role in the Americas. The African Union (AU) has an expressed objective of promoting democracy in Africa. Also international bodies less directly concerned with international peace and security do have democracy on their agenda: this is true for the United Nations Development Program (UNDP), the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development/Development Assistance Committee (OECD/DAC), as well as the different commissioners on Human Rights (UN, EU, Council of Europe). The reports of these bodies are significant in highlighting challenges to democratic development. However, the non-governmental organizations are those most unconstrained to deal with these issues, at least as a way of alerting the governmental communities on what goes on in particular countries (Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, International Alert, International Crisis Group). The large and increasing number of actors engaged in promoting democracy and human rights means that threats to democratic developments in post-war societies are increasingly unlikely to take place without considerable attention. This, furthermore, may in itself work as a deterrent to governments contemplating, for instance, changes in the constitution favoring the incumbent. The record in Africa of peaceful transitions from one president to the next is improving (Southall et al. 2005). However, often issues of candidacy for re-election are seen as sensitive matters, and neighboring or even extracontinental governments are careful not to involve themselves openly in a legislative domestic process. It will require

19.3

International Response: React or Not?

363

particular conditions for explicit government reaction. The fact that a country finds itself in a post-war transition with international commitment is likely to be one such event. In this situation the international community has invested considerably in future stability and will react more legitimately than otherwise would be the case. Such an investment, it is argued here, provides the general background for international concern and even legitimacy for international actions in a democratization crisis. The systemic dilemma does at the same time involve a horizontal dilemma. If there is a record of commitment, an international body is more likely to get involved also in a democratization crisis and thus be highly inclusive. This means more international consensus on action. However, if the democratization crisis takes place without such a prior organizational commitment, it is less likely to have universal support. Instead, action will be pursued by regional organizations (building on regional consensus), by individual donor countries (with a commitment to democracy), or by civil society organizations. Still, there is a general trend of democratization crises generating more international concern. The question whether this results in a tilting towards more international rather than local ownership of democratization will, however, require further analysis.

19.4

International Response: When?

The temporal dilemma involves two aspects: when will action take place and when will it end, i.e., the short-term vs. the long-term dimension? Let us begin by raising the issue of when international actors enter a democratization crisis. This requires us to ask which challenging events are expected to lead to international reaction: It is here suggested the events in electoral processes are more probable than others to trigger an international response. This is so – as we observed earlier – because the election process is regarded as central to the conduct of democracy. According to conventional democracy theory, the electoral process and elections are the occasions when the general public (the electorate) can pass judgment on the achievements and responsibilities of the incumbent government. The public’s main sanction is to vote for an alternative to the present rulers. Peaceful change is accomplished this way. Free and fair elections are important elements of democratic participation. Thus, in democracy building the first and second elections after a war are those most closely watched. For international media, elections also incorporate the drama that provides for readers’ interest. It is a peaceful battle that can be followed and be understood globally. It reduces the complexities of “distant” societies into manageable alternatives. With this in mind, it can be concluded that there are several reasons for elections to become central indicators of the progress of democracy promotion. Challenges to the electoral process, then, would most typically involve events that may trigger international responses. There are, however, different elements that together constitute “the electoral process” and they may solicit different reactions. The example of Uganda illustrates a first type of triggering event: the patent arrest of a leading

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opponent. This could be generalized: physical and direct threats to opponents are events that generate considerable attention internally as well as internationally. The attempt to poison a leading opposition candidate in Ukraine in 2004 generated international concern and galvanized domestic opposition, preventing the incumbent government from manipulating the elections to its advantage. This, of course, was not a case of a postwar situation, but one, which was close to both the EU and Russia, which had a strategic interest. As a consequence, it became a concern to the EU, rather than to the UN (Maksymenko 2005; Solana 2005). In a post-war situation, the physical security of the leaders is likely to be a major interest, and probably an issue to which they themselves pay considerable attention. Particularly if there is a peace agreement, such threats are closely watched by international observers. This means, paradoxically, that the safety issue may become more urgent, the further the process moves along. When a democratic transition seemingly has been stabilized, the security provisions may be relaxed. After all, the war in Uganda that led to the new Constitution ended in 1986. By 2005, matters should have been more stable. In fact, they were not. This is further illustrated by the modern experience of Lebanon. The civil war ended in an agreement in 1990. A policy of reconstruction was initiated and, by many standards, a return to a new “normalcy” seemed to take place. For instance, in 2000, Israel decided to withdraw from the South of the country, in the expectation of stable conditions as well as in the implementation of a gentlemen’s agreement with the dominant force in the South, Hizbollah. However, in the run-up to the 2005 elections, the leader associated with the recovery – as well as with a desire for independence from Syria’s influence – Rafik Hariri, was assassinated together with twenty others in a huge bomb blast in Beirut on February 14, 2005. The electoral process had therefore lost one of its main contenders, and this led to an international as well as a national crisis. Indeed, the democratic gains in the country seemed to be threatened. In fact, they may have been strengthened as people turned out in large demonstrations to demand Syria’s withdrawal. Interestingly, the issue was also brought to the UN Security Council and an international investigation was ordered, as well as the withdrawal of the Syrian troops. In April 2005, the Syrian military had pulled out and the elections in May and June gave strong support to Lebanese factions that were critical of Syria, including giving a prominent role to Saad Hariri, the son of Rafik Hariri. In this case, we see that the elimination of a democratic leader, who was also regarded as successful in maintaining economic development and balancing between different factions, immediately sparked an international reaction. Certainly, Lebanon’s geopolitical location helps explain this, but it is also significant that the stability of the country has been of continuous concern to the international and regional community (including peacekeeping and peacemaking efforts). There was considerable visibility coupled with a willingness to act. The examples of threats to leaders may be extreme cases, but there is also an issue of widespread electoral violence. Often, the fate of leaders may be only the most easily observable event of systematic practices. For the international governmental community, it may be easier to act if leaders (who may be acquaintances

19.4

International Response: When?

365

to other leaders) are exposed to dangers. For the international non-governmental community, not least those concerned with fair electoral policies, events such as intimidation of voters, obstacles to campaign meetings, killings of local party workers, as well as interference at polling stations are equally or more worrying. Reports on such events help form the picture an international audience acquires on a particular election campaign. For a more direct international reaction, this may not be enough. Elimination of one leader may trigger more media coverage and result in more outrage internationally than the fate of dozens or hundreds of “anonymous” election workers. A second set of events that might result in international action relates to the election outcome. If there is international monitoring of the process, there will be reports to work from. However, if there is such a presence it is more likely that the outcomes are correct. The non-observed cases are probably those with the most irregularities, particularly in post-war conditions. A paradox is that such elections generate less international concern, and those outcomes may be more readily accepted, although they are domestically contested. The result, as a consequence, is that internationally observed elections are also those that are the most likely to trigger international reactions. If the electoral conduct can be criticized, and if the outcome is also affected this is likely to spur international responses. Attempts by incumbents to “steal an election” in a process of great international significance is likely to be resisted. A now almost classical case in point is the outcome of the presidential elections in the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia in September 2000. Yugoslavia (today Serbia) found itself in a post-war situation, following its involvement in the wars of Slovenia, Croatia, and Bosnia-Herzegovina (1991–1995), as well as in Kosovo in 1999. The incumbent, Slobodan Milosevic, was running for re-election. The electoral announcement of his victory was met with disbelief, a general strike was announced, and demonstrators assembled around the Parliament building in Belgrade in early October 2000. The international reactions were sharp, it was clear, for instance, that international sanctions would not be lifted unless the results were correctly reported. In the end, Milosevic had to admit that he had lost the elections and he stepped down. This development was actually not part of the peace agreements or other post-war arrangements. The events of 2000 were a matter of following the constitutional set-up arranged by the domestic political process. Still, the outcome had repercussions for the entire region, and a legitimate outcome was important for the possibilities of peacemaking in the post-war societies of the Western Balkans. The elections received intense international coverage. The manipulation of the results triggered sufficient action to make clear to the incumbent government that it would not enjoy international legitimacy if it persisted. The domestic opposition may in the end have been more important in Milosevic’s decision to step down. His power base was eroded, but also his main international allies, notably Russia, abandoned him during the first days of October 2000. The triggering event was electoral fraud: Milosevic was a key regional actor, the legitimacy issue (an element in the vertical dilemma) was no longer in his favor (but rather to the advantage of the international

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actors), and there was sufficient consensus among key actors to unite against him (an aspect of the horizontal dilemma). By his actions, Milosevic orchestrated his own downfall. An additional aspect is the aftermath of the elections; will the winner and loser have a chance to play the role the results demand? As the previous examples suggest, it is difficult for a national government to withstand the pressures resulting from an electoral process. It may face the inevitable choice of giving up power. From the point of view of the power holders this may be a difficult choice. What will happen to the outgoing leader, the losing administration, the party, his/her family? There are many elements of an internal security dilemma posing agonizing choices on the loser (Wallensteen 2007). A number of leaders have had to face this, and chosen to abide by the result. The list includes Daniel Ortega in Nicaragua, Kenneth Kaunda in Zambia, Daniel arap Moi in Kenya. In all these cases, the former leaders have been able to make a living in their own countries following the electoral defeat.2 The recent advent of war crime tribunals may suggest one more disincentive for leaders in post-war societies to step down. Milosevic found himself at the International Tribunal in The Hague less than a year after his electoral defeat. Other leaders, such as Moi, may face charges of corruption (as happened also to Frederick Chiluba, the one who defeated Kaunda in 1991, he was acquitted of the charges). In these instances, the international community is recorded to have acted in favor of the loser yielding his/her position. In some instances, obeying by the outcome has been met with resistance, however, resulting in protracted stalemates. In 1988, war-torn Burma/Myanmar had a democratic election to appoint a constitutional conference. The democratic opposition clearly had the upper hand. The National League for Democracy led by Ms. Aung San Suu-kyi won overwhelming support and as a consequence should have had the dominant role in Burmese politics. The military regime, however, refused to give up its power. A stalemate resulted, still remaining. The pressure on the military regime has been strong, including industrial sanctions by the United States and targeted action by the European Union. The Nobel Peace Prize was awarded to Ms. Aung San Suu-kyi in 1991. The UN Secretary-General has appointed a special representative for this issue, as has the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN). The pressures are obvious, and the neighboring countries have found themselves in a squeeze. Lately, ASEAN has become more vocal in demanding democratic reform in Burma. Burma’s closest ally, China, however, has not imposed any action, preferring to build up its own investment in the country. The Burmese issue has been blocked from entering the formal agenda of the UN Security Council, but an informal discussion has been allowed. The military government has defended itself by pointing to its ability to conclude agreements with a 2

Most remarkably, Daniel Ortega was again elected president in Nicaragua in 2006, thus, being at the same time the first president in the country’s history to step down peacefully and be re-elected. In 2007, the Sudanese businessman Mo Ibrahim announced a substantial prize for African leaders who “have taken office through proper elections and left having served the constitutional term stipulated when taking office,” in effect rewarding constitutional behavior.

19.4

International Response: When?

367

number of the ethnically based insurgencies. This, it has seen as a development toward a more multinational state. However, given this, international actors have argued that now may be the time to deal with the issue of national governance and democracy, as part of a post-war process and as a way of preventing a return to serious conflict. The observations so far point to the electoral process, particularly the election campaign, as a triggering event for international action in a democratization crisis. Clearly, also the outcome will be closely monitored by international actors. Possibly, there is a sequence of attention: if the campaign has been followed, it is likely that also the outcome is of concern. In other ways, if the issue is on the agenda then it will not easily go away, be it an international or regional organization or a coalition of donors that are concerned. It still asks the question raised by the temporal dilemma: is there a preference for short-term commitment, or will it be sustained over a period of time? To this we now turn.

19.5

International Response: For How Long?

The duration of commitment is a second aspect of the temporal dilemma. It will partly, of course, depend on what type of action is taken (to which we will turn in the next section). Normally, action would end when a clear-cut success or failure can be established. The promotion of democracy, particularly in post-war conditions, seldom offers such easy points. In reality, for instance, peacekeeping operations will be sustained as long as the troop-contributing countries are willing to put up forces, or funds are enough for continuing. As there are always some possible threats to refer to, the operations can become protracted. There is a similar tendency for economic sanctions to go on for a considerable period of time. Even when sanctions are targeted, it can be politically difficult for the initiators to terminate them, as that might be seen as yielding to the targeted country or its regime. If the demands are linked to decolonization, however, independence might be a clear event for major disengagement (e.g., East Timor in 2002). Even so, the concern for democracy may extend far beyond such points. Some of our examples – Lebanon, Uganda, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Burma/ Myanmar, and, more recently Liberia – point to the long-term nature of democracy building in post-war conditions. Formative crises might come late in the process, even after a series of elections. As we have already mentioned repeatedly, once an issue is on the international agenda, it is likely to remain there for a considerable period. The attention may vary across time, however. One might even suggest that there are different phases of such interest. In the war period, the focus is likely to be on issues of negotiations and peace agreements. This involves international diplomacy, special missions, mediation efforts, strategic political considerations, etc. Once a war has ended, there might be a requirement for peace operations, humanitarian efforts, refugee assistance, demobilization, and technical support for the implementation of agreements. When this is seemingly

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managed, it will be followed by international development assistance aiming at recovering from the war effects and the creation of self-generating economic conditions. Supposedly, from this will follow the building of democratic conditions in all its aspects (for instance, media, civil society, rule of law, academic freedom, security sector reforms). After this, aid will be replaced with trade and promotion of democracy with the indigenous solidification of good governance. This is an ideal model. In fact, the international commitment may wane very quickly. For instance, once refugees have returned, armies have been reduced, and the first elections have been conducted, global concerns will shift to other crises. “Real” attention will not return until a new crisis unfolds. Lebanon might be a case in point. The international commitment between 1990 and 2005 was limited to particular issues. Similarly, Haiti was of great concern in 1993–1994, with sanctions and threat of military actions unless the deposed government was allowed to return. It did so in 1994, and Haiti dropped from the immediate concern of international organizations. In 2004 a new crisis took place. What had been achieved in a period of ten years did not provide for a sustained democratic form of government. In the case of Uganda, Museveni managed to win the elections, and the donors faced a new dilemma. Were they going to sustain their actions against the regime or were there other means available to deal with the government? Donors gradually reestablished relations. For instance, half a year later, Sweden restarted 90 percent of its budgetary support, arguing on the basis of a EU evaluation that there was now multi-party representation in the parliament. Ten percent was withheld as an indication of continued concern. The conduct of the elections process was not fully acceptable, but the outcome was likely to have been the same, a victory for the incumbent. However, to work with Uganda and the new parliament would increase the chances of furthering democracy in the long run. “A democratic state is not shaped overnight,” said the head of Sida’s Africa Division (Sida 2006). Thus, democracy promotion in post-war conditions is a long-term commitment, but international high-level attention is impossible to maintain for such a period of time. New issues will emerge and rightfully deserve their shares of attention. The realpolitik conditions may also dictate against a sustained and coherent democracy approach: provision of aid to exposed populations requires a functioning state. Thus, Uganda could find a way back to donor funding. If Uganda, Afghanistan, or Bosnia-Herzegovina were to relapse into war, considerable efforts and resources would have been wasted. Thus, there is a need to develop a sustained international interest in post-war conditions. In 2005, the UN General Assembly and the Security Council jointly agreed to set up a Peacebuilding Commission. In the words of Assembly President Jan Eliasson (Sweden) this would mean that “post-conflict does not mean post-engagement of the international community.” The task of this commission was to keep countries on the “verge of lapsing or relapsing into conflict” on the agenda of UN action (UN DPI, December 27, 2005). This is the first organizational expression of the need for sustained efforts in peacebuilding, including the promotion of democracy. It testifies to a general recognition of the exit problem, as a problem of premature, or too early, departure by the international community.

19.5

International Response: For How Long?

369

During its first year of operation, the new commission selected two situations to work with, in agreement with the governments: Burundi and Sierra Leone. Both countries are operating within a democratic framework, and refining this is one of the ambitions of this new cooperation. The temporal dilemma points to the issue of commitment. Clearly, democracy building requires long-term efforts, but management of crises requires short-term action. What might be emerging is an awareness of the need for long-term international commitment. This, however, will also require the creation of new institutions or other durable arrangements (bilateral agreements, regional organs, development cooperation, etc.). It cannot solely rest on the type of early reactions that we see when triggering events take place. Short-term actions, often negative in nature (sanctions of different sorts), ultimately yield in favor of more lasting measures. Still, when facing a crisis, the dilemma is activated. There is a need for short-term reaction, without at the same time jeopardizing long-term investment. Skillful political leaders can exploit this dilemma to their advantage. After all, Museveni was re-elected and the outcome accepted. The donors’ choice between demonstrating dissatisfaction and jeopardizing long-term gains was balanced in the direction of a sustained commitment. The dilemma remains, however.

19.6

International Reactions: By Which Means?

There is an additional dilemma to consider: the vertical dilemma, which posits legitimacy versus efficacy: Which are the measures used by the international community to react to a democratization crisis? Are they legitimate, in the eyes of that community as well as to the inhabitants of the country exposed to the actions, and are they also effective in bringing about the changes expected? Reacting to a democratization crisis involves delicate issues of legitimacy, as it concerns the sovereignty of the targeted country. For the countries contemplating or carrying out action it has to do with their investment in the situation. There may have been a long-term commitment, for instance, through a peace process during the war period. Donors have supported the post-war developments. Thus, to them it is legitimate to take action. It might be different on the other side of the divide: government and population in the targeted country. The government is likely to be suspicious; the population may be more divided. This affects the means chosen. The issues of governance (including a democratization crisis) are within the sovereignty of a member state of the international community (be it the UN or a regional body). This may make other member states hesitant to act. The post-war conditions add to this. Humanitarian concerns will enter into the decision making as well: aid might be of critical significance for exposed groups. This differs from the typical Cold War era or to reactions to military coups. A typical reaction to military coups has been not to allow the particular regime a seat in the UN. The suspension of diplomatic recognition (or not extending relations to a new regime) was a common measure. There were cases of open or

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clandestine military interventions to impact on the domestic dynamics, either favoring democratization or protecting democratic gains (Western support to armed opposition in Afghanistan against the Soviet Union may be an example of the former, the US intervention in Panama in 1989 an example of the latter). These measures are still available, as seen in the case of Iraq in 2003, but the resort to actions which aim at the removal of a regime or the exclusion of an entire country have been limited to a few situations. The post-Cold War era has resulted in a need for refined ways of reacting. This points to ways in which the vertical dilemma is handled: finding ways, which are at the same time legitimate and effective. A solution has been to find targeted sanctions that focus on the responsible actors rather than on the population; or affect the revenue of the government in selected areas (Wallensteen and Staibano 2005). Some examples may help us to pursue the discussion. After about fifteen years of post-war transition Lebanon could be regarded as having recovered as a functioning society, albeit under heavy Syrian tutelage. There were international contributions to reconstruct the country’s democratic power-sharing system. Financial institutions were again returning, trade relations were beginning to reestablish themselves. There are many lessons to be learned from this, in terms of long-term peacebuilding with a democratic framework in mind. With the assassinations of the Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik Hariri and twenty-two other people of February 14, 2005, however, the country was again thrown back into severe crisis. This time, the international reaction was immediate, and the murder entered the agenda of the UN Security Council. A special prosecutor was appointed and a report was delivered, pointing to the involvement of Syria in the plot. The newly elected parliament was decidedly more critical of Syria’s role in the country. The conditions did not remain calm, however. Throughout 2005 there were car bombs and political leaders critical of Syria were killed. Once the prosecutor’s report was delivered, a new crisis threatened. By the end of October the Security Council sharpened its attitude, imposing sanctions on those individuals that were mentioned in the report (e.g., travel bans and freezing of assets) in order to ensure that the legal process would be maintained. In Syria this was perceived to be part of a strategy of isolating the country. The issue of the democratic process in Lebanon began to take on new dimensions: it threatened to become a matter of dealing with state-sponsored terrorism and the regime in Syria itself, thus connecting to the entire web of Middle East politics. Interestingly, the Security Council maintained its uniform position.3 Targeted sanctions as well as the UN investigation that focused on individuals rather than on Syria’s involvement were instrumental in this process. The approach, in other words, was to target particular actors that could potentially undermine the democratic gains in Lebanon. The government welcomed the international engagement.

3

Obviously the war in 2006 between Israel and Hizbollah challenged many of these democracy gains, but the Lebanese government still remained in office early 2007.

19.6

International Reactions: By Which Means?

371

Uganda provides a different story. In this case wars and repression also lasted for about fifteen years and the reconstruction took an equally long time. As we already observed, the international community embraced Museveni and for many years applauded his regime. The democratization crisis in 2005, thus, was a novel experience for a leader that had so far enjoyed good reviews internationally. Also for that community it was difficult to reverse its position. The arrest of the opposition leader was, indeed, unprovoked and became a formative event for international reactions. This was, nevertheless, less severe than the killings that were witnessed in Lebanon. However, there was no expectation of violence or human rights abuses. The fear of the elections of 2006 not meeting international standards may have triggered reaction more than anything else. The responses were different: criticism by some states at the Commonwealth summit meeting in Malta in November, the reduction of direct budgetary aid by significant donors. The resulting reaction of Museveni was not one of immediately releasing the leading opponent but instead he argued that these responses showed that “aid is arrogantly mixed up with an effort to interfere with our sovereignty” (Museveni 2005). Museveni, who had long been a benefactor of international support, now tried to define such support as colonial, and himself as a man of independence. The donors that reacted thus had made the arrest of the opposition leaders a major public event. The government resisted international engagement, but in the end the opponent was released while other forms of harassment continued. Through international attention and limited actions, the international community may thus have achieved some of its goals, and certainly made the elections more closely watched. The sanctions approach in the case of Lebanon-Syria was targeted at particular individuals, thus seemingly freeing the Syrian regime itself. The regime could presumably deal with this by forcing these individuals to cooperate. By doing this, the regime might prevent itself from being the next target. The implicit threat of escalating actions by the international community may have had an impact. The actions on Uganda, however, covered budgetary support that went straight into the treasury of the government. The impact would affect Uganda’s ability to conduct national policy. Whether the sums blocked actually were large enough for such an effect can be debated. The demands built on previous bilateral agreements but may have been somewhat diffuse. It held out the possibility that the release of the arrested opponents would restore budgetary aid, at some point. At the same time there was an implicit threat of escalation of donor measures. The demands of the international community and the actions taken are, thus, two considerations, which are intrinsically linked. The measures chosen are likely to be proportional, however difficult it may be to determine that balance. In addition, there will be a need for international agreement on the actions. In the Syria-Lebanon case measures has been taken by the Security Council, where such coordination is routine. The actions on Uganda lacked such a forum. The options available, furthermore, would not be global in reach. For instance, donor countries coordinate through OECD/DAC or through EU, both organizations covering about one eighth of all states. Uganda might claim an ability to replace aid lost from some donors with aid from other countries (although China showed no such record). The sums

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involved might not have been prohibitive either. The concerted actions of the Security Council, in other words, would have advantages of more precise demands, targeted action and international agreement. Actions by other actors would suffer from having too wide demands, difficulties in targeting, and difficulties in achieving international (near-) consensus. One might say that the choice of action in both cases, targeted sanctions, was a solution to the vertical dilemma. They had legitimacy (being part of the UN, or being undertaken by democratic states), they avoided affecting “ordinary” citizens (thus not being punitive), and they were focused on particular individuals or capacities of the government (travel, financial assets, budgets, respectively). A course of action was chosen trying to combine legitimacy with efficacy thus suggesting a way to manage the vertical dilemma. In the case of Syria-Lebanon some cooperation was achieved; in the case of Uganda, the actions did possibly modify the incumbent’s policy. These two cases demonstrate traditional versions of sanctions: by breaking off certain types of relations, and inflicting some pain, there is an expectation of change. There are some new options developing in international practice, however, pointing to a second category: positive sanctions (Wallensteen and Staibano 2005: Chapter 15). Such sanctions have also been discussed in terms of incentives or rewards (Dorussen 2001; Rothchild 1997). A case not mentioned so far in this contribution is instructive: Liberia. The most recent civil war ended in 2003, by the removal of the incumbent, Charles Taylor (he fled to Nigeria, from where he was extradited to the court in Sierra Leone in 2006, although that court was based in the Netherlands). An interim government was installed. UN peacekeepers were sent to the country. UN sanctions had a role in achieving this change. By preventing the exports of diamonds and timber from Liberia, one of the main sources for pursuing the civil war was blocked, particularly for Taylor. In addition, Taylor and some associates were exposed to financial and travel sanctions. When the war ended there was a general expectation that the sanctions would be lifted. The Security Council did not do so, however. Instead sanctions were maintained and were regarded as a way of supporting post-war reconstruction and democracy. By maintaining sanctions, no faction in Liberia could restart war using these sources of income. The Security Council wanted to make sure that a responsible government would be in place and that these resources would be used for the benefit of the entire economy of the country. Thus, Liberia sustained itself on humanitarian support. The presidential elections of 2005 resulted in a run-off of two candidates. The Security Council held out the possibility that the winner, who in the end was Mrs. Johnson Sirleaf, would benefit from the lifting of sanctions, once the government was able to control the resources in question. A carrot was in place. The approach, nevertheless, suggested a development in the practice of international reactions. During 2006 sanctions were eased, contributing to increased governmental revenue by early 2007. Sanctions thus have legitimacy (being a measure in the UN Charter), and the efficacy of this measure has gradually improved, no longer being comprehensive and general but targeted and with positive options. There has been some learning from the negative humanitarian effects in the case of Iraq during the 1990s. Practice

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International Reactions: By Which Means?

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has improved. The vertical dilemma expresses the problem well and the international community has seemingly understood how to deal with this for furthering democracy. Still, the record of actually achieving democratizing effects is in doubt. Lebanon remains in a fragile state, Uganda may see increasing authoritarianism, while Liberia may have a historical chance. International responses to democratization crises are often too late to be effective.

19.7

Conclusions

In this text the experiences in international post-war democratization crisis management have been exposed. There has been a strong, global tendency for the international community to engage in the internal affairs of member states more often. This seems like a logical consequence of the fact that most of the wars since the end of the Cold War have concerned intrastate matters. In such situations, the creation or re-creation of democratic forms of governments have become central. As illustrated here, this situation generates a number of delicate dilemmas, and also ways in which they have been dealt with by the international community. First, there is a systemic dilemma: whether to react or not. A hypothesis has been suggested: local threats to the electoral process in situations where the international community has already been involved seem to trigger reaction without involving serious sovereignty problems. Also, there are particular moments in the process that draw attention: physical threats or actions against leading opponents (democratic proponents), followed by the manipulation of outcomes of such elections. In many other instances of threats to the electoral process, the international community is not likely to act strongly. Instead, threats to constitutional processes, the undermining of the rule of law and freedom of speech are often referred to non-public diplomatic dialogues. These issues may, on occasion, enter into bilateral cooperation agreements. Second, the international organizations face an obvious temporal dilemma: if one is to react, when is that to be done (early or late?) and for how long is action to be maintained? There is a tendency to crisis reaction, meaning that it might be too late to be effective (as earlier signs have been ignored), at the same time that there is an urge to maintain long-term relations (thus potentially reducing the impact of the short-term measures). Third, there are also key elements of the vertical dilemma: by what means, that is, which are the most effective ones that can legitimately be used? This chapter points to the resort to targeted measures (different forms of sanctions) as a way of mitigating the dilemma. These are measures supported by international agreements; at the same time they are not harming the population at large or the fragile democratization process. The targeting in itself is a problem that has to be pursued: one may suggest that if it is the opponents to democratization that are targeted, there may be more effectiveness.

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Fourth, the chapter has illustrated the horizontal dilemma throughout the text. Central for international bodies and for international actions is the ability to muster international support (for instance, from the UN Security Council). This might be highly generic to international action. When it is not possible to get broad-based international backing, actors have pursued other ways, for instance regional organizations or donor meetings. In such, more limited settings, the agreement on democracy promotion may be higher. At the same time actions may be undermined by other actors, who step in to prop up the target. Thus, actions will be limited and, possibly, short-lived (as illustrated in the case of Uganda). Sustained, effective, legitimate action, in other words, will have to be based on international support (e.g., through the UN, as in Lebanon and Liberia). Democratization crises are likely to activate all these dilemmas, more or less at the same time. This may often make it difficult to predict which actions will be taken when the international community faces a problem. Policymakers looking for an appropriate mixture of action will more or less instantaneously consider whether there is a sufficiently triggering event, what options are available, what international support one can marshaled, what would be effective, and for how long action can be maintained. The options available are key. Recent experience has stimulated new thinking. One is the use of targeted sanctions. There is a range of options in the mandates and composition of peacekeeping operations. There is also the creation of the UN Peacebuilding Commission, concentrating on the post-war period of situations on the UN agenda. There is the formation of more positions as Special Representatives (by the UN, EU, ASEAN, AU, etc.) with varying assignments and resources. An example is the appointment in 2004 of a special advisor of the UN Secretary-General on the prevention of genocide, which also has to deal specifically with post-war situations as they have a higher likelihood of genocidal actions. There is now a similar position on conflict prevention. Remarkably, however, there is not a Special UN Envoy for democracy building. Similarly, the re-creation of the UN’s work on human rights, with the new Human Rights Council in 2006, indicates a wider support of concerted action, where also democratization crises may receive earlier attention. A Democracy Fund has been established within the UN, and international organizations demonstrate an increased willingness to entertain inputs from civil society organizations. Together, these innovations may signal new instruments for quicker action as well as a long-term readiness for the international community to remain engaged, for the benefit of democracy and peace.

Chapter 20

Preventing Genocide: The International Response Peter Wallensteen, Erik Melander and Frida Möller

Abstract The genocide in Rwanda in 1994 sparked an interest in early warning signals and early preventive action. In this article from 2012 Peter Wallensteen and his colleagues demonstrate with statistical methods the importance of international attention to what is happening and to the utility of peacekeeping operations in reducing the dangers. It also points to the importance of targeted sanctions and preventive diplomacy. In the case study of the situation in Côte d’Ivoire in the early 2000s the authors suggest that the coherent international response contributed to preventing what could have become another genocide.

20.1

Genocide and Civil War

The most shocking genocide since the end of the Cold War is the one in Rwanda of 1994.1 In a very short time, more than 500,000 people were slaughtered,2 often by their neighbors, encouraged by hate media, political leaders, and armed actors. The feeble international reactions have continued to haunt international organizations, political leaders, and scholars ever since. The literature on the failure is now vast: Scholarly work, special reports, and international commissions have dealt with the lessons. In their work on the success and failure of peacebuilding, Doyle and Sambanis point to a host of factors that accounted for this failure: the mandates and resources restricting the international peacekeepers; the confusion between the United Nations (UN) headquarters and the UN staff on the scene; the contrasting evaluations by the head of the UN operation and the special rapporteur for the conflict; the internal deliberations in New York, notably the Secretariat and its relations to the Security Council; the uninformed and late actions by the Council; This chapter reproduces Wallensteen, Peter, Erik Melander and Frida Möller 2012. ’The International Community Response’, in I. William Zartman, Mark Anstey and Paul Meertz (eds) The Slippery Slop to Genocide. Reducing Identity Conflicts and Preventing Mass Murder, Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press, pp. 280–305. Reprinted with permission. 2 The numbers are still discussed. UCDP estimates at least 510 000 deaths in 1994 in one-sided violence in Rwanda, see https://ucdp.uu.se/country/517. 1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_20

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and the reluctance of the United States to get involved. Thus, the picture is complex, and the authors conclude that the tragedy was one of “many hands” (Doyle and Sambanis 2006: 294–302). This case contrasts the general findings that UN peacebuilding missions actually succeed in post-civil war transitions, and that they do so if they have greater capacity in situations where the local capacity is weak (Doyle and Sambanis 2006: 131). In this chapter, we discuss the ability of international action to prevent genocide and learning from events before and after Rwanda. We focus on international capacity with a specific idea: There are a number of measures at the disposal of the international community to react early on in conflict situations to prevent genocides from taking place. A peacekeeping mission is one of these, sometimes enlarged into multidimensional peacebuilding operations. There are also other types of actions: Preventive diplomacy has been the hallmark of many UN Secretary Generals (particularly Dag Hammarskjöld and Kofi Annan), including the creation of special envoys or representatives for these issues (Special Representative/Envoy of the Secretary General, SRSG, or SESG); a post was specifically created for the prevention of genocide on the 10th anniversary of the start of the genocide in Rwanda), and the use of sanctions, such as arms embargoes and individually targeted sanctions. Thus, we will present the instruments available to the international community and relate it to situations that constitute genocides or possible genocides. The thesis is that if all the tools are used for the same goal, the international community is equipped to deal with threats of genocide. It requires a conscious strategy and, in the case of the UN, consensus in the Security Council. Furthermore, with the development of a doctrine of a responsibility to protect populations from genocide and mass violence, there is a normative commitment. In fact, before the responsibility to protect comes the responsibility to prevent wars, mass violence, and genocide (Hampson 2008). With the available instruments, the political will, a normative agreement, and a focus on the early stages of armed conflict, there should be enough information to find ways to prevent future genocides. This chapter is divided into six general parts building on the result of recent global data collections and one case study: First, we establish the link between genocide and civil war. Then the three instruments of peacekeeping, preventive actions, and sanctions are studied one by one, based on the global perspective, in the second, third, and fourth sections, respectively. The interaction between these instruments is studied in the fifth section (20.5): the case is Côte d’Ivoire in the ten-year period 1999–2008. The situation in the country is evaluated in terms of its application of these international instruments to end an internal armed conflict, thus preventing it from escalating into genocide. In the final section, some general conclusions and implications are suggested. The genocides that have attracted most attention, the Holocaust and Rwanda 1994, took place in the midst of wars. Thus, there are reasons to explore the connection between genocide and war. Most research on such connections has focused on the period following the Second World War. The genocide that created

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Genocide and Civil War

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the term, the one targeting Armenians during the First World War, would point to such a war connection, although this was an interstate war situation. Similarly, the origins of the Holocaust can be related to a particular interpretation of the outcome of the First World War. It was carried out during the Second World War. Major wars, in other words, provide covers as well as instruments for genocides. Since 1945 there have been continued experiences of genocide, but obviously no world wars. Civil wars provide parallel conditions, however. This we will explore by largely building on the widely used information on mass murder, genocides, and politicides compiled by the Political Instability Task Force (formerly the State Failure Task Force), prominently presented by its principal investigator, Barbara Harff (2003). The dataset now covers 1955–2004 and includes “massacres, unrestrained bombing and shelling of civilian-inhabited areas, declaration of free-fire zones, starvation by prolonged interdiction of food supplies, forced expulsion (‘ethnic cleansing’) accompanied by extreme privation and killings” (Marshall et al. 2001: 15). In civil conflicts, mass killings by either the government or the rebel side are recorded, and only unarmed civilian victims are counted, not combatants. According to these data, most mass killings of civilians are perpetrated by governments, and in times of ongoing civil conflict. The Political Instability Task Force records 6 onsets of genocide in civil conflicts in the post-Cold War period (Angola, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Burundi, Indonesia, Rwanda, and Yugoslavia [Kosovo]) and 30 onsets during civil conflicts in the period 1955–1989 (e.g., Guatemala, Nigeria, Burundi, Somalia, Sudan, Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Cambodia, and Indonesia). It also maps repetitions. Burundi experienced five different onsets of mass murder since 1955, two other countries suffered four events (Indonesia and Iraq), and six countries had two episodes (Angola, the People’s Republic of China, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Iran, Rwanda, and Sudan). These numbers are not only tragic in themselves, but are also important for our understanding of which situations are the most dangerous in terms of the risk of genocide. Harff (2003) reports that a history of mass killings increases the present risk that a new episode will commence. Significant for this chapter is the observation that most of the countries with two or more episodes of genocide also saw peacekeeping missions. From these data and other similar compilations, we can conclude that the most important cause of mass murder identified in previous research is major societal upheaval or state failure, particularly in the form of civil war (Davenport 1995, 1999; Gurr 1986, 1988; Krain 2005; Poe and Tate 1994). Indeed, the overwhelming majority of campaigns of systematic massacres of civilians begin in times of armed conflict. For example, a recent study by one of the authors of this chapter found that 36 out of 46 episodes of genocide/politicide in the period 1955–2004 were initiated during ongoing intrastate conflict. This study also shows that the intensity of intrastate armed conflict is a very important determinant of genocide. Although few if any episodes of genocide begin outside of a context of intrastate armed conflict, the relative risk is much higher when the intensity of fighting has reached the level of full-scale civil war, that is, with more than 1,000 battle-related deaths in a year (Melander 2009).

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The observation that genocide since the Second World War is closely associated with intrastate armed conflict, and with full-scale civil war in particular, presents both opportunities and challenges concerning the prevention of genocide. The opportunities consist of the clear early warning signals that an armed conflict sends and the generally higher level of engagement by the international community when problems in a country have manifested themselves in open fighting. At the same time, the challenge is to deal with the difficulties and risks that come with third-party engagement in situations of heavy or escalating warfare. Compared to many other potential signs of early warning of genocide, intrastate armed conflict is easy to define and detect in a systematic manner. Thus, it would be simple to demarcate a set of situations where the risk of genocide is heightened. Ongoing armed conflicts are typically considered to be so serious that the international community—and intergovernmental organizations (IGOs) in particular—is likely to focus on them and review options for action. As civil war is both devastating and difficult to curb, the international community will be aware and concerned. At the same time, the inherent dangers and volatility of the situation may deter action and will almost certainly make any attempted third-party engagement more difficult. This means that when IGOs step into the breach, they may find themselves in the most challenging crises, where the chances of success are the slimmest. This selection effect needs to be taken into account when discussing the relative effectiveness of IGO engagement. We will return to this phenomenon of selection bias repeatedly in this chapter, as it does affect the choices open to international organizations. The issue of which situations generally attract IGO engagement is, we submit, central when the possibilities for effective third-party action are discussed. In the next section, we will review research that incorporates the possibility that IGOs systematically tend to insert themselves in the most difficult—or the easiest—cases. This research concerns one of the most important forms of IGO engagement, namely, peacekeeping.

20.2

Peacekeeping and the Prevention of Genocide

Dispatching peacekeeping missions is one of the most visible and direct ways in which the international community may act to prevent genocide. Especially in the last two decades, various forms of peacekeeping missions have more frequently been deployed to countries in civil conflict to promote peace or to assist and protect civilians. The primary tasks of most peacekeeping missions are to prevent the escalation of armed conflict and contribute to a lasting peace, and the prevention of genocide may not be an expressed purpose. Yet, since armed conflict in general and full-scale civil war in particular are conducive to mass killings of civilians, any reasonably successful peacekeeping mission is likely to have a benign indirect effect on the risk of genocide. Moreover, as will be briefly discussed below, it is

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Peacekeeping and the Prevention of Genocide

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likely that even small and weak peacekeeping missions may directly influence the decision calculus of potential genocide perpetrators among warring parties. At first glance, the track record of peacekeeping missions in the prevention of genocide may appear to be poor. Yet, a recent study shows that the benign effect of peacekeeping is underappreciated, and that peacekeeping indeed contributes to lowering the risk that civilians will be massacred in times of intrastate armed conflict (Melander 2009). That first glance may be deceiving if peacekeepers tend to be sent to the most serious conflicts, where the risk of genocide is deemed to be highest. In statistical analyses, the standard approach to this complication is to control for the seriousness of the conflict. That means comparing the outcomes of equally serious conflicts when peacekeepers are present and when they are not. For example, we may take into account that conflicts in countries with a history of prior genocide are more at risk. If we find that, even after the introduction of such controls, there are still unmeasured factors that simultaneously influence both the dispatch of peacekeepers and the risk of mass killings, this approach is inadequate. This unmeasured selection will produce biased findings, so that we may, for example, fail to pick up a preventive effect. The solution in recent research has been to explicitly take into account the unmeasured seriousness of the conflict, and to model how this may be a factor in the decision to deploy peacekeeping missions as well as part of what drives the onset of genocide. The statistical technique employed—seemingly unrelated probit regression—simultaneously predicts peacekeeping and the onset of mass killings of civilians, taking into account the correlation between the disturbances of the equations (Greene 2003: 717). When using this procedure, it can be demonstrated that peacekeeping does significantly reduce the risk of mass killings when one takes into account that peacekeeping missions may be more likely to be established in the most difficult conflicts (Melander 2009). It was also found that mass killings are more likely to commence the higher the number of previous such episodes a country has suffered. Semi-democracies and countries with political institutions in transition or collapse were found to be more at risk, as were countries in full-scale civil war. Peacekeeping missions, in turn, are more likely to be sent to countries with previous episodes of mass killings. Such missions tend to go to semi-democracies near the middle of the democracy scale and when the political institutions are in transition or collapse. Not unexpectedly, they are more common in the post-Cold War period, in countries with smaller populations, and in Europe, including the former Soviet Union. Even after these controls were taken into account, there remained a tendency that peacekeeping missions were sent to the most threatening places in terms of the risk of genocide. The key result regarding the benign preventive effect of peacekeeping only emerged after the application of this advanced statistical technique, which takes into account that there may be unobserved omitted factors that simultaneously increase the probability that peacekeepers will be deployed and the risk that the conflicting parties will resort to mass killings. The theoretical rationale underlying the use of this joint model was that some of the factors that drive the deployment of

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peacekeeping missions are also likely to be related to the risk that civilians will be massacred, but that much of what jointly drives mass killing and peacekeeping is very difficult to observe systematically. Most importantly, decision makers have access to analyses from intelligence agencies, media, nongovernmental organizations, and actors with special information on the intentions and capacities of the warring parties. It is reasonable to assume that this type of intangible information should, on average, be more right than wrong about the risk of mass killing (Melander 2009). The results as well as the theoretical rationale means that, all else equal, decision makers indeed do tend to send peacekeepers to places where civilians are most at risk. Although dealing with slightly different research questions, several other studies have concluded that when selection is taken into account, third parties tend to become involved in the most difficult conflicts. For example, Svensson (2006) finds that mediators tend to be active in conflicts where the prospects of successful mediation are the least promising, and that mediation does increase the chance that intrastate conflicts will end in negotiated agreements. DeRouen (2003) examined the effectiveness of UN involvement in interstate disputes, and concludes that the UN tends to insert itself in the most difficult disputes and that the effects of UN involvement are benign. Fortna (2008) finds that peacekeepers are sent to places where the most fragile peace exists and that they increase the chances that the peace will last. Given that peacekeeping missions tend to be deployed in the most difficult situations, it becomes all the more important to ask how such missions can influence warring parties not to resort to the massacre of civilians. This is important, as their forces typically are small numerically and are equipped with weak mandates and light weapons. Prominent analyses of genocides and mass killing hold that powerful military interventions that directly confront perpetrators are most likely to succeed in halting or curbing the slaughter (e.g., Krain 2005; Power 2002; Valentino 2004). It is important, however, to distinguish between the ability of peacekeeping missions to prevent potential mass murderers from actually resorting to genocide, on the one hand, and the capacity of peacekeepers to stop already ongoing massacres, on the other. In the latter case, the perpetrators have already committed an enormous atrocity and must, reasonably, be extremely determined or desperate. In particular, those perpetrators who persist in killing huge numbers of civilians are by then likely to have largely dismissed potential or actual countermeasures by third parties (Melander 2009, cf. Harff 1986: 168). When thinking about the potential for prevention of genocide, we would thus risk being misled by a biased selection of observations if we were to base our inferences only on the study of the most extreme cases, where the perpetrators may seem not to care about international reactions to the killing (e.g., Rwanda, Sudan). This, then, is another form of selection problem that may bias our analyses when we as analysts focus too much on the most dramatic cases (Melander 2009). Keeping in mind, then, that preventing the onset of mass killing may be quite different from stopping already ongoing genocide, a study by Krain (2005) nevertheless offers several mechanisms through which peacekeepers could conceivably influence potential mass killers in a situation of armed conflict. Krain examines

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Peacekeeping and the Prevention of Genocide

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third-party military interventions in already ongoing state-sponsored mass murder, and is thus concerned with the conditions under which ongoing mass killings can be halted or minimized. Krain finds that interventions that directly challenge the perpetrator or aid the victims are the only effective types of military responses. But given the differences between prevention by peacekeepers and forceful military intervention in already ongoing mass killings, the other mechanisms identified by Krain could well be just as relevant for a discussion of the possibility of using IGOs to prevent genocide (Melander 2009). The first mechanism noted by Krain is the Challenging Intervention Model, according to which the third party directly challenges the perpetrators and forces them to reassess the costs and benefits of massacring civilians. Krain contrasts the Challenging Intervention Model to the Impartial Intervention Model. According to this alternative logic, the type of intervention that is most likely to succeed is impartial and nonthreatening: “If the intervening force can make it clear that stopping the killing, rather than victory for either side in the conflict, is the primary concern, then the assumption is that an impartial intervention should reduce the severity of state-sponsored mass murder” (Krain 2005: 367). A third relevant model is the Witness Model, according to which the mere fact of intervention in the conflict situation with personnel on the ground might signal “at the very least an interest in the situation by the international community, and an unwillingness to be complicit by remaining passively on the sidelines” (Krain 2005: 368). In this connection, Krain also stresses that the intervening third parties become potential eyewitnesses to the killings. While most peacekeeping missions are unlikely to exert much influence through the Challenging Intervention Model (because of limited numbers, equipment, and mandates), both the Impartial and Witness Models would seem to be widely applicable (Melander 2009). These are some examples of how IGOs, through peacekeeping, may influence warring parties so that the risk of genocide is reduced. The most important conclusions to emerge out of this research so far (Melander 2009) is that peacekeepers, on average, seem to be sent to the most murderous conflicts, and that when this selection is taken into account, peacekeeping has a benign preventive effect on the risk of genocide. This finding, in turn, underscores the importance of keeping potential selection effects in mind when discussing the ability of IGOs to contribute to preventing genocide. Also, whereas the most resolute perpetrators may be more or less immune to all forms of influence except force, many conflict actors thinking about resorting to mass killings may be dissuaded by impartial interventions or the presence of international witnesses.

20.3

Preventive Diplomacy, War, and Genocide

Peacekeeping thus can be an effective way of preventing an armed conflict from sliding into war and genocide. Let us now turn to other forms of preventive actions, drawn from the diplomatic field. This is a field with surprisingly little systematic

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investigation. Often genocides may appear too overpowering for diplomacy and negotiations to be of relevance. These instruments may appear too weak. There is still no basis for making a general judgment. Using a dataset of measures to manage internal armed conflict in their early stages throws some light on the question and may stimulate further work along this line. The Managing Intrastate Low-Intensity Conflict (MILC) dataset covers third-party measures to prevent the escalation and spread of intrastate low-intensity conflicts for the period 1993–2004. A total of 3,018 third-party activities are registered in the dataset. This shows that the international community indeed is taking action in potentially serious situations and also that some of the third parties include major powers and IGOs (Melander et al. 2009a). In fact, IGOs were responsible for close to one-third of all measures taken by the international community. This demonstrates that IGOs are significant preventive actors and that their efforts warrant a closer look. This is, thus our focus in this section. The UN and the European Union (EU) are among the three most active intermediaries, surpassed only by one major power, the United States. Among the 10 most active actors we also find the Organization of African Unity (OAU) and the African Union (AU). The regional distribution of the preventive measures taken by IGOs in low-intensity conflicts shows that IGOs are particularly active in Europe and Africa but also in the Middle East. They are less engaged in the Americas and Asia even though Asia has almost constantly experienced the highest number of conflicts—and in recent times also the most intense ones. However, using the Uppsala Conflict Data Program (UCDP) One-sided Violence Dataset (version 1.3) for 1989–2006 to locate genocide situations in conflict settings (genocide situations are defined as attacks by the government of a state or by a formally organized group on civilians that result in a large number of fatalities), only one such situation was found to occur in Asia: Afghanistan in 1998, the perpetrator being the Taliban government. At the same time, the conventional war between the Taliban government and the Northern Alliance had intensified. These data also show that there were no genocide situations in the Americas in this period. Of all the genocide situations recorded by UCDP from 1989 to 2006, all but a few occurred in Africa. Citizens of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Sudan, Angola, Burundi, and Rwanda have all been victims of attacks by their own governments or by rebel groups operating in the country. The data also confirm the picture presented in the previous section: All countries experienced conventional armed conflict, most of them at devastating levels of intensity, at the same time with one-sided violence. Thus, we ask, does the pattern observed for peacekeeping also apply to preventive actions: that they are undertaken in situations with the greatest risk of large civilian fatalities and in genocide-prone situations? This pattern can be observed in Table 20.1, which shows the conflicts with the most IGO preventive initiatives. Three of the listed conflicts have experienced genocide situations since the 1990s: Bosnia-Herzegovina, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and Burundi; four have not. We can legitimately ask if the special attention from IGOs did in fact prevent escalation to mass violence in the Israeli– Palestinian conflict as well as in Croatia, Côte d’Ivoire, and Macedonia.

20.3

Preventive Diplomacy, War, and Genocide

Table 20.1 Low-intensity conflicts with the most IGO preventive action, 1993– 2004. Source: The author

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Name of conflict

Number of events

Israel (Palestine) Croatia (Serb) Bosnia (Croat) Democratic Republic of the Congo Côte d’Ivoire Burundi Macedonia

164 84 80 68 50 37 36

International attention to some of these conflicts may very well have averted further deterioration and possible genocidal acts. For instance, Macedonia is often recorded as a successful case of conflict prevention (Broughton and Fraenkel 2002; Lund 2002: 100; Väyrynen 2003: 50). In a later section, we will look more carefully at the case of Côte d’Ivoire. There are methodological difficulties, of course, in estimating whether certain developments have been prevented, but comparisons and statistical methods give some insights (Wallensteen and Möller 2003). For instance, third parties are more likely to make verbal threats to the parties in ethnic disputes that actually escalate to wars than to the parties in ethnic disputes that do not escalate further. These threats may in fact reflect the underlying seriousness of the conflict rather than being a direct impact of third-party action. Also, this shows that verbal engagement alone may not be sufficient in preventing escalation. If coupled with additional measures, such as humanitarian assistance, verbal engagement seems to have a more deescalating effect (Öberg et al. 2009). Table 20.1 gives rise to a number of reflections on the preventive diplomacy of international organizations. Let us look more carefully at the seven conflicts most attended to by IGOs in this period, representing the three regions receiving most attention. Table 20.1 points to the heavy international interest in the Balkan conflicts, with three conflicts among the seven receiving most attention. The MILC dataset has the year 1993 as its starting point, and thus we have no systematic data on IGO activity in the early phases of some of the post-Yugoslavia conflicts. Note that Table 20.1 includes those conflicts that had a lower level of intensity. It is possible to argue that there was some degree of success in preventing escalation in some dyads in the whole web of conflicts. A Bosniak-Croatian federation was formed in 1994, which ended the war between Bosnian Croats and Muslims relatively quickly. Similarly, the Croatian–Serbian conflict in Croatia was high on the international agenda. The EU and UN were leading organizations in many of the peace moves in the region, often in close cooperation. In both of these cases, however, they failed to prevent continued ethnic cleansing. A more clear-cut case of successful preventive diplomacy is Macedonia, as already mentioned. In 2001, there were fears that Macedonia could turn into another brutal Balkan war, as the polarization was increasing between Macedonians and Albanians following the war in Kosovo. Consequently, direct talks began in 2001

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with the Macedonian government, involving both the EU and the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO). It is likely that these intense diplomatic efforts averted escalation and instead directed the conflict into peacemaking, in which the Macedonian parties themselves gradually took the lead, after the conclusion of the Ohrid peace agreement in August 2001.3 In a way, the international efforts can be seen to have created space for the parties to work out their differences directly among themselves. Perhaps not unexpectedly, the Israeli–Palestinian conflict received more attention than any other low-intensity conflict in this period. Even though there are no genocide situations registered in this conflict, there were many terrorist deeds directed at civilians in events that may well have led to quick escalation in other conflict situations around the world. Thus, the fact that many third-party actors have been active in this conflict may have been significant in preventing further deterioration. The primary IGO third party is the EU, which has been more active than the UN. In addition, the United States has played a major role, and sometimes there was also Russian involvement. These four actors formed the Quartet pushing not only for conflict prevention but also for conflict resolution. There have been continued flare-ups in this conflict, most recently in Gaza in 2008–2009, making the international efforts appear futile. Also, attempts to direct negotiations between the parties have so far achieved little. On the other hand, we have to keep in mind that the Israeli–Palestinian conflict may be typical of how the international community becomes involved in the most difficult conflicts. It is, furthermore, possible that many worse atrocities could have been committed in this conflict if international engagement had been weaker. Of the three African conflicts, according to the UCDP One-sided Violence Dataset (version 1.3) for 1989–2006, the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Burundi have been identified as genocide situations but not Côte d’Ivoire. There has been considerable activity in all three conflicts, often by the same organizations (e.g., AU/OAU with different representatives and the UN). The UN, followed by the Southern African Development Community (SADC), was particularly engaged in the Congo. The Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) and France were early in acting in Côte d’Ivoire. It is interesting to ask how the efforts and initiatives in the latter case differ from those in the other two cases. Looking more closely at the international efforts in Burundi (where mainly the UN and the OAU/AU were active), it is found that only a few activities took place before the genocide situations of 1995 and 1996. The international community became engaged after the events, and even then, its activities were more sporadic and spread out over a long period. A similar pattern is found in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, where a genocide situation was recorded in 1997, 1998, and 2003. Diplomatic efforts continued in 1998 and 1999, but again largely after the events, as

3

EU actions in this armed conflict followed a European strategy for conflict prevention and the efforts were led by the Swedish Foreign Minister Anna Lindh, see Wallensteen and Svensson (2016: 58–59).

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was the case in 2003. It seems that the actions taken in Côte d’Ivoire took place earlier and were more consistent than in the other cases. This may reflect stronger concerns that the conflict in Côte d’Ivoire could have become entangled with the civil wars in neighboring Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Guinea. Events in neither Burundi nor the Democratic Republic of the Congo may at the time have been seen in a regional light. Perhaps the most infamous genocide situation in Africa is that of Sudan. Since its independence in 1956, Sudan has been marred by mass killings of civilians in all years except the ten-year period 1973–1982. After a bout of slightly lower levels of battle intensity in 1993–1994, the Sudan conflict escalated again to full-scale civil war in 1995. Most of the third-party activities aiming to help bring the conflict with Southern Sudan to an end are thus not included in the MILC dataset since the conflict had by then already escalated. In this sense, third-party peacemaking came too late in Sudan. Preventive diplomacy, as recorded here, is a frequent activity. We also see that it attends to the most difficult conflicts. The record in curtailing genocide is limited, however. We find two cases where a plausible argument can be made for a prevention achievement in the period studied: Macedonia and Côte d’Ivoire. This suggests that the conflicts that international organizations choose to enter with preventive actions are more complicated than other conflicts. Also, it appears that IGOs often act only after the onset of large-scale massacres. The two divergent cases warrant more analysis, and we have chosen to focus on Côte d’Ivoire. However, before taking up this case, we need to look at the third tool available to the international community: targeted sanctions.

20.4

Targeted Sanctions and the Prevention of Genocide

Sanctions and genocide have a particular history not paralleled by the other international instruments discussed in the chapter. The comprehensive sanctions of the past have meant that entire economies have been sealed off, thus, creating considerable harm for the civilian population. This is the way sanctions were used during World War I, and the hardship suffered by the German population was a factor in that country’s capitulation. This made sanctions popular with the victors. Sanctions were introduced as the prime measure in the League of Nations to be used against aggressors. Indeed, the ferocity of their impact was even seen as a preventive measure: The threat of being exposed to sanctions, it was thought, would deter a would-be aggressor from committing aggression. However, it did not deter Italy from attacking Ethiopia in 1935, and since then, sanctions have had a more limited role in international affairs. It remains, however, a legitimate tool for the UN, the EU, and individual countries. In the 1990s, a new debate arose with respect to the sanctions on Iraq. It was claimed that the sanctions created such hardship that they amounted to genocide of the Iraqi population (Halliday 2002). This critique of the sanctions led to the

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creation of a major UN effort, the Food for Oil program, based in the UN headquarters, to alleviate their impact. It also resulted in the development of new tools, smart sanctions, that would avoid the dramatic effects of comprehensive sanctions (Lopez 2000). These new sanctions would include measures such as arms embargoes and measures targeted at particular individuals, their financial holdings and travel opportunities, and to commodities that could sustain their noncompliance with international requests (e.g., diamonds, timber). In this form, sanctions may become less controversial and more helpful in the prevention of genocide. These are the types of sanctions that are most important in our context. This conclusion is reinforced by evaluations of the Iraq sanctions experience. For instance, it has been asked whether or not the arms embargo may have been the most important component in preventing Iraq from acquiring weapons of mass destruction (Wallensteen et al. 2004: 21). Thus, here, we are concerned primarily with targeted sanctions (particularly arms embargoes) in genocide prevention. There are no studies specifically addressing this issue, although some attention has been given to it (Lopez 2000; Lopez and Stuhldreher 2007). Thus, we have to resort to studies that consider the more general questions of arms embargoes and their effect on conflicts. A number of recently published reports have shed light on the efficacy of arms embargoes, and they constitute the basic material for the following reflections on sanctions as a tool in genocide situations. In recent articles, Morgan, Bapat, and Krustev point out that there may be a selection effect in sanctions study and policy debates. The focus tends to be on the most difficult and protracted conflicts. Presenting a new dataset of 888 cases of economic sanctions imposed in 1971–2000, the authors find that sanctions are normally shorter in duration than was previously thought and also more successful: 30% of those with known final outcomes ended with partial or total concessions from the target and another 25% ended with negotiations. The authors have succeeded in compiling a more comprehensive dataset than was previously available for systematic sanctions study. Some common notions may have to be revised. One is that multilateral sanctions, in fact, are more successful than unilateral ones, as earlier studies seemed to imply. Again, this may be a result of a bias in the collection of data: There has been a tendency to include only high-profile cases rather than more limited and less well-known cases (Bapat and Morgan 2009; Morgan et al. 2009). This makes it interesting to study international organizations and sanctions. There is recent work of relevance to the question of genocide. In 2007 a study of 27 UN arms embargoes for the period 1990–2006 was published in Sweden. It was the result of a joint effort of the sanctions research program at Uppsala University (SPITS) and the arms transfer project at SIPRI (Fruchart et al. 2007). The following year, Brzoska published a study of 74 arms embargoes for the period 1990–2005, including not only UN sanctions but also those of the EU and the United States (Brzoska 2008). These studies deal directly with the sanctions and are highly relevant for our arguments.

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Targeted Sanctions and the Prevention of Genocide

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Interestingly, although not particularly focused on sanctions, Regan and Aydin (2006) included this measure as part of their study of interventions. Their work covers 1945–1999, and they report that sanctions are not related to whether conflicts are terminated earlier or later. The duration of conflict is their measure of whether interventions succeed or not. Thus, in their analysis, sanctions do not stand out as a measure of consequence. Instead, they find diplomacy to be the central factor. They also give more credit to economic inducements—the reverse of sanctions, so to speak—in shortening conflicts. These findings are challenging to sanctions studies. Obviously, sanctions also deal with issues other than active conflicts, and thus their results are only partially relevant for the sanctions discussion. However, their main point—that joint effects of economic interventions and diplomacy are more effective—is of great value in our further deliberations. Sanctions may often have been used as an alternative to diplomacy rather than as a tool integrated in diplomacy. Regan and Aydin statistically support the latter approach. An innovative study by Della Vigna and La Ferrara (2008) comes to the conclusion that embargoes actually do have an impact, at least in constraining the arms trade. The authors arrive at this conclusion through a study of eight UN arms embargoes and stock market changes in more than 150 companies engaged in the arms trade. They find that companies from low-corruption countries are affected by increasing conflict in the targeted countries, implying that their sales are likely to suffer due to continued restrictions on legal trade (pp. 4, 13, 22–23, 28). Their interpretation is that these companies may risk incurring reputational costs if they violate the embargoes, and thus that the stock market is waiting for opportunities for legal trade. Companies from high-corruption countries are not affected the same way. This actually suggests ways in which the arms trade can be monitored. The constraints on the arms trade are, of course, a first element if sanctions are also to have an impact on the target’s behavior—for instance, preventing the target from initiating genocide. However, this makes the SPITS/SIPRI (Fruchart et al. 2007) and Brzoska (2008) studies the only systematic ones that deal with the impact of sanctions both on arms flows and on target behavior. They are, consequently, most relevant for our topic. The SPITS/SIPRI study divides UN sanctions into three categories with respect to the goals they want to achieve: (1) conflict management, notably the ending of a war or of hostilities; (2) government authority, aiming at affecting regimes, sometimes trying to change authoritarian regimes, sometimes aiming at maintaining particular governments; and (3) global security, which includes the goals of preventing proliferation of weapons of mass destruction and terrorism (Fruchart et al. 2007: 3). All three goals have a preventive purpose, although in slightly different ways. The conflict management sanctions aim at stopping an ongoing interstate or intrastate war means that one prevents it from escalating or spreading regionally. These are the situations in which an arms embargo intuitively makes sense. It is a way to curtail the flow of arms to the fighting actors. If all sides are equally exposed to the sanctions, it also means that a conflict will freeze more or less at the situation

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that prevails at the time the sanctions are imposed. This may sometimes benefit an already well-armed actor more than others, whether intended or not. In most recent civil wars, however, this may not have been the most typical effect. Government authority sanctions include cases of the restoration of a previous democratic order. The global security sanctions are explicitly preventive: to maintain the nonproliferation treaty as well as to prevent new terrorist activities, which, by definition, are actions directed at civilians. Thus, the preventive ambition is present in most UN uses of sanctions, although not necessarily strongly spelled out in the mandating documents. In some cases, this also relates to the possibility of preventing genocide. In this context, the focus is on the conflict management category, which is also the largest group of sanctions in the SPITS/SIPRI (Fruchart et al. 2007) study, with 16 cases. There are significant aspects of genocidal risks in all of these cases, and in some of them, specific actions were taken to reduce or eliminate such dangers. An example is the Iraq sanctions following the Gulf War in 1991. A general uprising took place against Saddam Hussein’s regime. His offensive against the Kurdish population resulted in a mass exodus of Kurds from large areas of Iraq and left refugees in difficult conditions in the mountains. The sanctions on Iraq were extended, but a military measure was also instituted: a no-fly zone in Northern Iraq. At the same time, humanitarian efforts were authorized by the UN Security Council (UNSCR 688). This provided for the safe return of the refugees and possibly prevented another genocide of the Kurdish population. At the same time, international attention to the situation of the Shi’ites in Southern Iraq was limited. The conflicts in Yugoslavia similarly had genocidal aspects, as previously mentioned (the 1992–1995 as well as the 1998–1999 conflicts), and sanctions were used to reduce the capacities of, in particular, the Serb actors to pursue war and ethnic cleansing. Sanctions on Rwanda, however, were not instituted until the end of the genocide and armed conflict in 1994. The measures were directed at the forces of the previous regime, thus preventing it from returning to power. Even the interstate war between Ethiopia and Eritrea had aspects of ethnic cleansing: Inhabitants defined as belonging to the other side were forced to leave. The situations in Somalia, Liberia, Angola, Sierra Leone, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Darfur (Sudan), Liberia, and Côte d’Ivoire all have similar aspects, but in varying degrees. In many there have been mass violence and cruelty against exposed groups, only sometimes being officially defined as genocide by some actors (e.g., in Darfur). Many of these situations, if unchecked, may, however, have moved far beyond ethnic cleansing. The question thus is whether conflict management through an arms embargo had an impact. The statistical result of the SPITS/SIPRI study (Fruchart et al. 2007) shows this to be the case when annual data on sanctions and conflict development are analyzed. There are more than 100 such observations. Overall, arms embargoes had an impact in 25% of the observations. In government authority and conflict management cases the percentage increases to 29%,when there is some restraint on the borders, the figure becomes 36%; and when UN peacekeepers are present, it becomes 47% (Fruchart et al. 2007: 33–35). There is an important outcome here:

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The sanctions may work in conjunction with other measures, notably peacekeeping, to reduce the dangers of escalation, diffusion, or possibly prolongation of the conflict. If, at the same time, neighbors contribute by strengthening border controls, the arms embargo is more likely to have an impact on the behavior of the parties. These are indeed strong results, and they go beyond those reported by Brzoska (2008). He finds that effectiveness in term of policy change is only 8% for all arms embargoes, although those that ended prior to 2005 were effective in 14%. The methodology is different from that of the SPITS/SIPRI report (Fruchart et al. 2007), which focused only on armed conflict and dealt with annual shifts and events, not whole cases. Also, the definition of effect differs, as Brzoska reports much lower numbers than SIPRI/SPITS for the impact on the target’s action. When the UN sanctions are separated out, effectiveness increases, as it does when studying all cases where the sanctions aim at ending civil wars. Unfortunately, Brzoska (2008) does not report specifically on UN sanctions aimed at ending civil wars. The strongest effect, however, is achieved in cases where the arms embargo is an “element in targeted sanctions package” (p. 15) and this is also the chief conclusion: Arms embargoes are “most effective when utilized as a consistent element of larger policy packages” (p. 24). Furthermore, multilateral sanctions are more effective than others, particularly in conjunction with accompanying measures and when aimed at stopping civil wars. Thus, this study supports the notion that arms embargoes actually may have an impact on the escalation of conflicts. If an ongoing armed conflict can be stopped, it is also likely that the moves toward genocide can be curtailed. All of these studies report on economic measures taken once a conflict has broken out. Sometimes this can be late in developments leading toward genocide. Thus, earlier threats of action become relevant. The new data by Morgan et al. (2009) will allow for more studies of this situation in the future. For the time being, only the SPITS/SIPRI study (Fruchart et al. 2007) deals with threats of sanctions, estimating their impact, and its conclusions are not encouraging. For instance, of the 15 conflict management cases with threats of sanctions, the threat was deemed credible in only 3 instances. In all the other cases, there were disagreements among permanent members of the Security Council on the sanctions policy. It is interesting, however, that the threat issued in 2005 against Ethiopia and Eritrea is associated with changes in behavior. None of the parties acted to restart the war or challenge the UN (Fruchart et al. 2007: 19). However, they have not moved to a final settlement of their disagreement. Still, the study underlines a significant aspect: the importance of consensus among, in particular, the permanent members of the Security Council. In too many cases, sanctions have been instituted as the least common denominator among these major powers, rather than as part of a coherent strategy aiming at changing the behavior of a particular targeted actor. Thus, a successful sanctions policy to prevent genocide requires the cooperation of the leading powers, accompanying international measures, support from neighboring countries in controlling borders and other forms of access to the warring parties, and explicit monitoring of the sanctions—for instance, in the form of professional peacekeeping. This means that sanctions may help to reduce the

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likelihood of genocide if they are part of an international genocide prevention strategy. We now turn to the case of Côte d’Ivoire to see how this might work.

20.5

Success in Genocide Prevention? The Case of Côte d’Ivoire

The international community, as we have seen, is equipped with a set of tools that can be used to prevent armed conflicts from escalating or spreading: peacekeeping, preventive diplomacy, and targeted sanctions. Each of these can have an impact separately, but the present state of research suggests that when they are used in a coherent way, the chance of success in achieving prevention is enhanced. Let us now investigate if this is also a way of preventing a disaster such as genocide from happening by looking at a pertinent recent case. This has to be a case where there is agreement among observers at the time that there is a serious threat of genocide. It has to be pertinent in that it corresponds to a common understanding of genocide, that is, that political violence follows ethnic lines of division. It has to be recent, as the tools have to be available to the international community and the lessons from Rwanda integrated into the political consciousness of leading decision makers. The case fitting these criteria is Côte d’Ivoire during the period 1999–2008. We have already seen that this case figures strongly in prevention activity (Table 20.1), and we argue that it is highly relevant in a discussion on the prevention of genocide. The test of whether the case is an example of successful prevention will be concluded in 2010 if the presidential elections finally do take place. It may work out as a demonstration of national unity, but it may also spark a new round of unrest.4

20.5.1 Genocide Danger in Côte d’Ivoire The armed conflict was most intense in 2002 but lingered on in the following years, as Table 20.2 demonstrates. The outlines of the armed conflict can be understood from the following statistics, drawn from the conflict database of the UCDP.

4

A short update, after the publication of this article: The elections in 2010 led to a civil war in 2011 and a change of government, giving a military victory to the electoral victor, Alassane Ouattara, see Roberts (2019). There was considerably one-sided violence. The total number of deaths in 2011 in this category of violence is estimated by UCDP as more than 1000, see https://www.ucdp. uu.se. International reactions including the recognition of Ouattara’s government, helped to defuse the situation. The incumbent president Laurent Gbagbo was arrested and brought to the International Criminal Court in The Hague. In 2019 his case was dismissed, but appealed by ICC prosecution. By early 2021 the case was still not settled.

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Table 20.2 Battle-related deaths, Côte d’Ivoire, 2002–2005. Source: https://ucdp.uu.se/country/ 437 (retrieved September 2, 2009), using the best estimates and adding the dyads for the different conflicts 2002 2003 2004 2005

Armed conflict

Nonstate conflict

One-sided violence

Total

594 88 55 0

53 207 240 141

331 190 42 28

978 485 337 169

Table 20.2 summarizes the strict coding of battle-related deaths for the four years 2002–2005 in Côte d’Ivoire. The categories are defined so that they do not overlap and thus can be added. The total number of deaths directly connected with political violence during this period is 1,800. This is, no doubt, a conservative estimate. If we add data on refugees, the human toll of the conflict will become more evident. The UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR) estimated that there were over 700,000 internally displaced persons, but most joined family members or host families. The UN Secretary General estimated that by July 2009, close to 80,000 of the 120,000 persons who had no host families had returned to their original areas (UN Security Council, S/2009/344:8). Table 20.2 also shows that the armed conflict itself was responsible for less than half of the 1,800 fatalities (737 to be exact). The armed conflict was contained fairly quickly, but non-state violence continued, as did one-sided violence. In 2002, with close to 1,000 people killed in organized conflict, 60% of the deaths occurred in the armed conflict; in 2003 the share was 18% and in 2004 16%; by 2005 no armed conflict was active. Other types of political violence continued, albeit at a lower level. By 2006 there was no further record of organized violence along the political divides, according to UCDP. Thus, the conflict shifted for a while to other forms of violent action. However, at no point was the number of battle-related deaths so large as to be defined as war, and there was no genocide in this case. This makes it very interesting to analyze. How can this development be explained? Surprisingly, the writings on the armed conflict in Côte d’Ivoire from the point of view of a possible genocide are fairly limited, as is the academic treatment of the crisis in general. Collier (2009) has a chapter on the “Meltdown in Côte d’Ivoire,” pointing to economic explanations and political manipulations as the origin of the conflict. Other works include short articles (Badmus 2009; Daddieh 2001; Kirwin 2006; Toungara 2001), a book chapter (Miran 2006), and graduate theses (Boyer 2006; Rametsi 2006), from the works of Francis Akindès (e.g., 2004). The developments are largely unknown to readers outside the immediate vicinity of the conflict. There is a need for a short recapitulation of the events. The central concern in the conflict, and thus in the attempts to solve it, was the issue of identity: Who was actually a citizen of the country? This is an element in the many attempts to define what constitutes the beginning of a process toward genocide. Stanton (1998) calls this the “stage of classification.” In the case of Côte

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d’Ivoire it was an important issue, deciding, for instance, who was entitled to run for public office, own land, or have a job in the public sector. Strict laws on this issue began to emerge in the mid-1990s. In late 1994 an electoral code was passed for the presidential elections in 1995, stating that only candidates whose parents were Ivorian were eligible to run. This code was—according to most observers— instituted to bar a strong candidate from the North of the country, the previous prime minister, Alassane Ouattara (Badmus 2009: 51; Boyer 2006: 5; Daddieh 2001: 17), whose nationality was questioned and remains an issue (Akindès 2004: 36–40). Following this, laws were instituted restricting landownership and eligibility for public office in a similar way. This led to a form of ethnic cleansing in the South of the country (Badmus 2009: 52). The coup of 1999 upset the institutional stability of the country and opened the way to the 2000 changes in the constitution, again barring the same candidate from running for office (Badmus 2009: 53; Boyer 2006: 5–6; Daddieh 2001: 18). Following the elections, which led to Laurent Gbagbo’s victory, immigrants in the south were harassed and began to leave the country (Daddieh 2001: 18). The ideology of ivorité was underpinning these developments (Akindès 2004: 26–33; Badmus 2009: 50ff; Daddieh 2001: 17ff; Kirwin 2006; Rametsi 2006: 18ff). The southerners were seen as the carriers of the state, they had access to education and controlled most of the resources. Through this ideology, which analysts say began to spread more strongly in the mid-1990s, it was possible to exclude a large fraction of the population from power as well as from employment, income, and wealth. There was also, some writers point out, a religious dimension to this: the South was more Christian, the North more Muslim (Boyer 2006: 2–3), but no religious group constituted a majority. Interestingly, early violence included attempts at polarization along religious lines, but this process was countered, primarily by Muslim leaders who took a conciliatory approach (Miran 2006). Thus, the use of identity criteria to exclude potential competitors from power positions was not only a matter of intra-elite rivalry but had an impact on the entire nation. The regulations also affected legal immigrants who had worked for a long time on the plantations in the South, whether they came from the North of the country or from neighboring countries (Badmus 2009: 49). To document one’s ancestry was an added problem. It is not difficult to link the introduction of identity criteria to a decrease in export prices on, in particular, cocoa and coffee. Competition for jobs intensified, and politically identity became an expedient card to play as an explanation for the troubled economy (Collier 2009: 157–158). The classifications had real significance for the fortunes of many of the 18 million inhabitants of Côte d’Ivoire. In fact, by 2002, an additional stage on Stanton’s (1998) ladder had been passed. The Northern population was not only excluded from access to the highest levels of power, as it consisted of populations that also were related to those of the neighboring countries (Burkina Faso, Mali). The Northerners also began to be identified with a “foreign power” that was instigating unrest and attempting to undermine the country (Daddieh 2001: 18). This is what Stanton describes as the second stage, “symbolization,” which can easily turn into a third stage, “dehumanization.” Reports make it clear that in 2002,

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militia groups defining themselves as “patriotic” emerged; in response, defense militias appeared on the other side. Violence was increasing, initially related to mobs, later turning into militias with criminal connections (Boyer 2006: 6; Collier 2009:165). This constitutes the fourth stage on Stanton’s scale: “organization.” Genocide Watch defined the situation at this time as even further along toward genocide (Boyer 2006: 10). In September 2002, a military coup was attempted but failed. However, enough troops supported the attempt for a civil armed conflict to begin. In a short time, the country was divided into two parts with their respective armies. In fact, the divisions widened very quickly and additional rebel groups emerge in the West of the country, no doubt with outside support. By late 2002, a cease-fire was reached between the government and some rebel groups, thus, cementing the division of the country into two parts. A year later, the rebel groups united into Forces Nouvelles (FN), led by Guillaume Soro.

20.5.2 The International Response The international response to the unfolding crisis consisted of three parallel measures: peacekeeping missions, economic and military sanctions, and preventive diplomacy. The measures reinforced each other. 20.5.2.1

Peacekeeping

By late 2002, international reactions began to generate momentum. The region had already seen wars in Liberia and Sierra Leone. Guinea-Bissau was unstable, and a low-level conflict was going on in Senegal. One more West African country on the brink of war would threaten to bring further instability to the entire region. However, the triggering factor for international action seems to have been a threat to French nationals in late 2002. French and U.S. troops were sent in to help the evacuation (Rametsi 2006: 25). By January 2003, France had approximately 4,000 troops in the country (Boyer 2006: 17) helping to keep the cease-fire in place. Similarly, ECOWAS sent in some 1,500 troops by January 2003. Negotiations between the opposing sides were initiated in Paris, and a peace agreement was concluded in 2003. The UN was asked to assist in its implementation. In 2004 the UN contingent was further increased and the ECOWAS forces were integrated into this operation, called UN Operation in Côte d’Ivoire (UNOCI). By 2006 the UN strength amounted to 7 000 troops, 700 police, and more than 400 civilians (Boyer 2006: 17–22). The deployment of these troops was associated with a reduction in violence, as can be seen in Table 20.2. The armed conflict was winding down. The parties had already agreed to a cease-fire, and the international presence made violations more difficult. In 2004, the government tried an offensive, attacking the French forces,

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which retaliated by destroying the government’s helicopters. Since the arrival of the UN operation, armed action between the warring actors had almost entirely ceased As Table 20.2 makes clear, there were also other violent activities, at some points seemingly dominating the political dynamics. The arrival of international police may have had something to do with the gradual waning of these types of acts. 20.5.2.2

Sanctions

The Security Council decided on an arms embargo in November 2004. This action paralleled France’s attack on the government’s air force, thus preventing its reconstruction. SIPRI’s Arms Transfers Database records that these helicopters had been bought from Belarus, Bulgaria, and Romania (Fruchart et al. 2007: 30, fn. 103). Further deliveries were made more difficult with the UN action. The Security Council also threatened to impose sanctions on individuals creating obstacles to the peace process. In February 2006 three persons were put on the UN sanctions list (Wallensteen et al. 2006: 8). In a detailed analysis of the military developments in Côte d’Ivoire and their relationship to the sanctions measures, Strandow (2006: 36) finds that implemented arms embargoes actually had an effect independent of the military stalemate in increasing the parties’ interest in conflict resolution. It is likely to be a measure that was important in the case of Côte d’Ivoire. It was followed up in several ways. In February 2005, the Security Council gave the peacekeeping operation a mandate to monitor the arms embargo. Together with the Security Council’s independent panels of experts and measures instituted by neighboring countries, the embargo served to make the parties uncertain about future deliveries, thus making a resumption of hostilities unpredictable. In fact, in the peace agreement of 2007, the FN and the government agreed to demand the lifting of the arms embargo on light weapons immediately and on all deliveries three months after the presidential elections. They also asked for the removal of the targeted sanctions (ICG 2007: 18). Clearly, these sanctions frustrated both sides. The Security Council has maintained the measures and, in fact, threatened in July 2009 to sharpen them. 20.5.2.3

Preventive Diplomacy

As could be seen in Table 20.1 this conflict led to considerable international preventive action. France and Senegal were among the first to react, but a contact group including Ghana, Mali, Nigeria, Niger, Togo, and Guinea-Bissau was also important. South Africa was a key mediator for a period. The ECOWAS, the AU, and the UN appointed special representatives for different aspects of the conflict. A series of peace agreements was concluded under international auspices. However, none of them was implemented.

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Remarkably, in late 2006, President Gbagbo announced his own peace plan, outside of the UN and regional frameworks, and initiated direct negotiations with the central FN leader, Guillaume Soro. Even more remarkable, President Blaise Compaoré, of Burkina Faso (chairman of ECOWAS), served as the facilitator, although he and his country had previously been accused of interference. To Gbagbo, Burkina Faso was too close to FN, but in this situation, such a bias might have been seen to serve a purpose (Svensson 2006). The negotiations resulted in an overall agreement, the Ouagadougou Political Agreement of March 2007. It was followed by a series of additional agreements between the parties. The direct involvement of the UN, France, and other actors was limited, although they provided basic security for the country and for the peace process . This notwithstanding, the combined use of peacekeeping, sanctions, and preventive diplomacy may have helped to make the warring parties change their goals. Instead of victory (as the rebels intended in 2002 and the government sought with its offensive in 2004), a settlement emerged as a different and not necessarily negative route.

20.5.3 Côte d’Ivoire: The Route Away from Genocide? The Ouagadougou Political Agreements included a settlement on the identity issue through an open identification and registration process using mobile courts and with considerably relaxed requirements for documentation. The process was completed by September 2009, in time for the scheduled presidential elections on November 29. Also, some of the stipulated efforts for the reunification of the country were made by the parties. Disarmament of former combatants and dismantling of militias was continuing (UN Security Council 2009). The country appeared to be on track for regaining coherence and legitimate governance. In July 2009, the Security Council extended the mandate for the UN peacekeeping missions until the end of January 2010 and reminded the parties of the possibility of targeted sanctions if the peace process, including the electoral process, was threatened. As we have seen, Côte d’Ivoire had many of the elements of a possible genocide. The outbreak of the war in 2002 made this a distinct possibility: The state was weak and semi-democratic, the economy was depressed, and the region was in disarray. What stopped the process? Militarily, there was a stalemate, but the parties may well have seen this as a temporary situation. Indeed, we have seen that the government acquired new military equipment and actually tried to restart the armed conflict. An important difference from genocides is that Côte d’Ivoire lacked an internal precedent. Propagandists tried to compare the situation directly to that of Rwanda (Wallensteen et al. 2006 cites an example), but they could not point to Ivorian experience along such lines. This may have helped to reduce the drift toward escalation. However, one has to conclude that the international reactions played a decisive role, unparalleled in other African cases. Clearly, the rapid deployment of

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peacekeeping operations (first by France, then by ECOWAS, and later by the UN) had an impact on the parties and resulted in an early cease-fire agreement. All the elements of peacekeeping approaches seem to have come into play. With France the forces actually could strike back, as implied by the Challenging Intervention Model. Most of the time, the peacekeepers assumed a traditional role following the Impartial Intervention Model. Gradually, however, the UN forces received additional tasks, in line with the Witness Model: They monitored the arms embargo but also the Ivorian media, and in particular, they tried to counter hate messages through a special UN broadcasting station. By providing more impartial, credible information to the general public, they reinforced the impartial role, but in fact, they brought in new information and thus gave witness to what was actually happening. The immediate start of peace negotiations (first by France and neighbors, later on by AU) may also have played an important role. The story of the many failed, resurrected, and modified peace agreements is illustrative. At least the parties must have asked themselves questions such as: What is acceptable to the other party? What are my own minimum requirements? What do I have support for on my side? When the actors began their own direct negotiations, some ground had already been established through the previous processes. The use of sanctions, in particular the arms embargo (by the UN), also helped to avert the immediate danger of genocide. Even if genocides have been carried out without arms, the perpetrators need protection by their own forces against retaliation from the other side. Also, they may need more arms to achieve their war aims, and thus the sanctions may work as a deterrent against war and genocide at the same time. Without a continuous flow of arms, military forces cannot operate. In this case, arms imports were a necessity, as storage of weapons and munitions was limited, and vehicles needed spare parts not produced in the country. The mandate to the peacekeepers to monitor arms flows demonstrates the significance of the presence of outside forces. The internationally mediated peace process did not reach agreements that the parties actually were willing to implement. Direct negotiations between the parties turned out to be more fruitful. It should be noted that this initiative came four years after the cease-fire and after a great many peace efforts. All this activity may well have contributed to the realization that this conflict could only be solved between the parties themselves in direct conversations. The international actors clearly favored peace rather than war, which may have served to limit their options. The arms embargo was not going to be lifted, and it appeared that the consensus favoring peace was maintained, both in the region, in Africa as a whole, and in the Security Council. Unlike many other situations, the international consensus was maintained, restricting the possibilities for the parties to maneuver among dissenting major powers. The consensus may effectively have blocked other options for the parties. They had to find their own way of ending the impasse. There are obvious and strong benefits of such direct agreements. It remains to be seen if they pass the first test of a presidential election. In the last two decades, all presidential elections in Côte d’Ivoire have generated tensions rather than solved problems.

20.6

20.6

International Coherence and Genocide Prevention

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International Coherence and Genocide Prevention

Nobody can doubt that the recent and ongoing campaigns of mass murder of civilians are among the most pressing humanitarian crises facing the international community.5 Sadly, the question of what IGOs can do to prevent genocide undoubtedly remains a burning issue. Third-party efforts are often tragically ineffective, which may cast doubt on the whole premise that third parties can contribute meaningfully to preventing genocide. Considering all the cruelty and violence in the world, it is perhaps easy to be overcome with despair. Yet, we find that the world has in recent decades become a less violent place in terms of organized conflict and genocide (Melander et al. 2009b), although all trends have their fluctuations. This provides reasons to think about how new tragedies can be averted. In this chapter, we have demonstrated that genocides since World War II have been connected to civil strife. As long as an armed conflict is not too entrenched or turned into a war (i.e., with more than 1,000 battle-related deaths in the armed conflict), the chances of preventing escalation and genocide are high. The later the reaction, the more difficult it is to intervene and the harder it is to protect innocent civilians from eviction, mass violence, and genocide. In particular, we have pointed to the importance of a coherent international approach. Peacekeeping operations, preventive diplomacy, and sanctions need to work together. Then the preventive effect is likely to be the strongest, even if an armed conflict has started and has begun to gain momentum. We have illustrated this combined effect with the case of Côte d’Ivoire. In this case, we also found that a peacekeeping operation may be able to step outside the traditional role of providing impartial intervention. If it has a component that can act rapidly in response to provocation, this strengthens its capacity to maintain a stalemate. In this case France had that role, but in other circumstance there could be a rapid deployment force within the UN operation, such as in United Nations Mission in Liberia (UNMIL). In addition to this, the peacekeeping operation would benefit from acting as a witness: monitoring the media and embargoes and possibly also collecting information on war crimes committed by the parties for later prosecution. To this we should add that persistent efforts are necessary for peacemaking: Keeping a peace process going is central. It becomes, at a minimum, a learning process for the parties and possibly also a way of showing them innovative ways to solve the incompatibility problems they are facing. We also note that recent research demonstrates that sanctions can be effective, particularly an arms embargo, if done in a multilateral setting, with support of regional actor—for instance, in controlling borders with permanent international monitoring and as part of a political strategy. The experience of Côte d’Ivoire suggests that such concerted international action may push the parties in the direction of peace. Other alternatives are closed off; The support of Mr. Stephen Oola on sources for the section “International Coherence and Genocide Prevention” is gratefully acknowledged.

5

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thus, they have to work out their differences among themselves. Côte d’Ivoire is now in a fragile situation where this is brought to a test. We have also pointed to Macedonia, which was also under international pressure to solve its problem. Following a peace agreement in 2001, the Macedonian sides continued the peace process on their own. This is the most reasonable way to build peace for the future. The most important message derived from this research is that there are ways to deal with violence in preventing genocide. We suggest that international activism may be much more important in curbing civil war and genocide than is commonly believed. In this chapter, we have also reviewed recent research showing that peacekeeping missions tend to be sent into the most difficult situations. The same seems to be true for international preventive action and for multilateral sanctions. Such selection effects have to be taken into account when assessing the effectiveness of IGOs in the prevention of genocide A factor that may be central in preventing war and genocide is the shared determination of major outside actors not to allow a situation to get out of hand. The UN Security Council must continue to maintain a peacekeeping mission, even in difficult places, foster the support of neighboring countries for the prevention effort, and undertake actions that reduce the options of the actors and ultimately force them to deal constructively with each other. This seems to be the story of both Macedonia and Côte d’Ivoire: The peace is built by the parties themselves, giving them ownership of the process, but required the unified support from the region and the major powers. In such ways, peace may come to the most difficult conflicts.

References Akindès, F. 2004. The roots of the military-political crisis in Côte d’Ivoire. Uppsala: Nordiska Afrikainstitutet, Research Report 128. Andersson, A. 2000. Democracies and UN peacekeeping operations, 1990–1996. International Peacekeeping, 7(2), 1–22. Badmus, I. A. 2009. Even the stones are burning: Explaining the ethnic dimensions of the civil war in Côte d’Ivoire. Journal of Social Science, 18(1), 45–57. Bapat, N. A., and Morgan, T. C. 2009. Multilateral versus unilateral sanctions reconsidered: A test using new data. International Studies Quarterly, 53, 1075–1094. Boyer, T. E. 2006, April. Ivory Coast: A case study in intervention and the prevention of genocide. Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama: Air Command and Staff College, Air University. Broughton, S., and Fraenkel, E. 2002. Macedonia: Extreme challenges for the “model” of multiculturalism. In P. van Tongeren, H. van de Veen, and, J. Verhoeven (Eds.), Searching for peace in Europe and Eurasia: An overview of conflict prevention and peacebuilding activities (pp. 264–279). Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner. Brzoska, M. 2008. Measuring the effectiveness of arms embargoes. Peace Economics, Peace Science and Public Policy, 14(2), Art. 2. Collier, P. 2009. Wars, guns and votes: Democracy in dangerous places. New York: HarperCollins. Daddieh, C. E. 2001. Elections and ethnic violence in Cote d’Ivoire: The unfinished business of succession and democratic transition. African Issues, 24(1/2), 14–19.

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Davenport, C. 1995. Multi-dimensional threat perception and state repression: An inquiry into why states apply negative sanctions. American Journal of Political Science, 39(3), 683–713. Davenport, C. 1999. Human rights and the democratic proposition. Journal of Conflict Resolution, 43(1), 92–116. Della Vigna, S., and La Ferrara, E. 2008, March 18. Detecting illegal arms trade. NBER Working Paper. DeRouen, K., Jr. 2003. The role of the UN in international crisis termination, 1945–1994. Defence and Peace Economics, 14, 251–260. Doyle, M. W., and Sambanis, N. 2006. Making war and building peace: United Nations peace operations. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Fortna, V. P. 2008. Does peacekeeping Work? Shaping belligerents’ choices after civil war. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Fruchart, D., Holtom, P., Wezeman, S. T., Strandow, D., and Wallensteen, P. 2007. United Nations arms embargoes: Their impact on arms flows and target behaviour. SIPRI and Uppsala University: SPITS, Department of Peace and Conflict Research. Retrieved from https://www.sipri.org/publications/2007/united-nations-arms-embargoes-their-impact-armsflows-and-target-behaviour. Greene, W. H.. 2003. Econometric analysis (5th ed.). Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall. Gurr, T. R. 1986. The political origins of state violence and terror: A theoretical analysis. In M. Stohl and G. A. Lopez (Eds.), Government violence and repression: An agenda for research (pp. 45–72). New York: Greenwood Press. Gurr, T. R. 1988. War, revolution, and the growth of the coercive state. Comparative Political Studies, 21, 45–65. Halliday, D. J.. 2000. The deadly and illegal consequences of economic sanctions on the people of Iraq. The Brown Journal of World Affairs, 7(1), 229–233. Hampson, F. O. 2008. The United Nations and the responsibility to prevent. In A. Mellbourn and P. Wallensteen (Eds.), Third parties and conflict prevention (pp. 21–40). Hedemora, Sweden: Gidlunds. Harff, B. 1986. Genocide as state terrorism. In M. Stohl and G. Lopez (Eds.), Government, violence and repression: An agenda for research. New York: Greenwood Press. Harff, B. 2003. No lessons learned from the Holocaust? Assessing risks of genocide and political mass murder since 1955. American Political Science Review, 97(1), 57–73. ICG (International Crisis Group). 2007, June 27. Côte d’Ivoire: Can the Ouagadougou Agreement bring peace? Africa Report No. 127. Kirwin, M. 2006. The security dilemma and conflict in Côte d’Ivoire. Nordic Journal of African Studies, 16, 42–52. Krain, M. 2005. International intervention and the severity of genocides and politicides. International Studies Quarterly, 49(2), 363–387. Lopez, G. 2000. Economic sanctions and genocide: Too little, too late and sometimes too much. In N. Riemer (Ed.), Protection against genocide: Mission Impossible? (pp. 67–84). Praeger. Lopez, G. A., and Stuhldreher, K. 2007. Sanctions as counter-genocide instruments. In S. Totten (Ed.), The prevention and intervention of genocide (in Genocide: A critical bibliographic review, vol. 6, pp. 131–144). Transaction Books. Lund, M. 2002. Preventing violent intrastate conflicts: Learning lessons from experience. In P. van Tongeren, H. van de Veen, and J. Verhoeven (Eds.), Searching for peace in Europe and Eurasia: An overview of conflict prevention and peacebuilding activities, pp. 99–119. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner. Marshall, M. G., et al. 2001. Political instability (state failure) problem set: Internal wars and failures of governance, 1955–2004. Political Instability Task Force. Retrieved from http:// www.systemicpeace.org/index.html. Melander, E. 2009. Selected to go where murderers lurk? The preventive effect of peacekeeping on mass killings of civilians. Conflict Management and Peace Sciences, 26(4), 389–406. Melander, E., Möller, F., and Öberg, M. 2009a. Managing intrastate low-intensity armed conflict 1993–2004: A new dataset. International Interactions, 35, 1–28.

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Melander, E., Öberg, M., and Hall, J. 2009b. Are “new wars” more atrocious? Battle intensity, civilians killed and forced migration before and after the end of the Cold War. European Journal of International Relations, 15(3). MILC (Managing Intrastate Low-Intensity Conflict). Dataset. Uppsala Conflict Data Program. Retrieved July 2009 from https://www.ucdp.uu.se. Miran, M. 2006. The political economy of Islam in Côte d’Ivoire. In H.Weiss and M. Bröening (Eds.), Islamic democracy? Political Islam in Western Africa. Berlin: Lit Verlag. Retrieved September 5, 2009, from https://halshs.archives-ouvertes.fr/halshs-01062650/document. Morgan, C. T., Bapat, N., and Krutsev, V. 2009. The threat and imposition of economic sanctions, 1971–2000. Conflict Management and Peace Science, 21(1), 92–110. Öberg, M., Möller, F., and Wallensteen, P. 2009. Early conflict prevention in ethnic crises, 1990– 98: A new dataset. Conflict Management and Peace Science, 26(1), 67–91. Poe, S. C., and Tate, C. N. 1994. Repression of human rights to personal integrity in the 1980s: A global analysis. American Political Science Review, 88(4), 853–872. Power, S. 2002. A problem from hell. New York: Basic Books. Rametsi, S. 2006. South Africa’s diplomatic involvement as a peace-broker in West Africa: The case of Côte d’Ivoire. Master’s thesis, University of Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, Department of International Relations. Regan, P. M., and Aydin, A. 2006. Diplomacy and other forms of intervention in civil wars. Journal of Conflict Resolution, 50(5), 736–756. Roberts, Elise 2019 “Is Côte d’Ivoire heading toward another crisis?” World Political Review, September 12, 2019, downloaded June 20, 2020 from https://www.worldpoliticsreview.com/ insights/28185/despite-security-sector-reforms-is-cote-d-ivoire-heading-toward-another-crisis. Stanton, G. H. 1998. The 8 stages of genocide. Working Paper, Yale Program in Genocide Studies. New Haven, CT: Yale University. Strandow, D. (2006. Sanctions and civil war: Targeted measures for conflict resolution. Uppsala: Uppsala University, Department of Peace and Conflict Research (SPITS). Svensson, I. 2006. Elusive peacemakers: A bargaining perspective on mediation in internal armed conflict. Uppsala: Uppsala University, Department of Peace and Conflict Research. Toungara, J. M. 2001. Ethnicity and political crisis in Côte d’Ivoire. Journal of Democracy, 12(1), 63–72. UCDP (Uppsala Conflict Data Program). Dataset on one-sided violence. Retrieved from https:// www.ucdp.uu.se. Retrieved September 2, 2009. UCDP (Uppsala Conflict Data Program). Database. Retrieved in September 2, 2009 from https:// www.ucdp.uu.se/database. UNHCR (UN Refugee Agency). Retrieved from https://www.unhcr.org/refworld/docid/ 49a8f198b9.html. UN Security Council. 2009, July 7. Twenty-first progress report of the Secretary-General on the United Nations Operation in Côte d’Ivoire (S/2009/344). New York: United Nations. UN Security Council Resolutions. Retrieved from https://www.un.org/sc. Valentino, B. A. 2004. Final solutions: Mass killing and genocide in the 20th century. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Väyrynen, R. 2003. Challenges to preventive action: The cases of Kosovo and Macedonia. In D. Carment and A. Schnabel (Eds.), Conflict prevention: Path to peace or grand illusion? (pp. 47–70). Tokyo: United Nations University Press. Wallensteen, P., Eriksson, M., and Strandow, D. 2006. Sanctions for conflict prevention and peace building: Lessons learned from Côte d’Ivoire and Liberia. Uppsala: Uppsala University, Department of Peace and Conflict Research (SPITS). Wallensteen, P., and Möller, F. 2003. Conflict prevention: Methodology for knowing the unknown. Uppsala: Uppsala Peace Research Paper No. 7. Also in Wallensteen, Peter (ed) 2011 Peace Research: Theory and Practice, Routledge, pp. 125–142.

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Wallensteen, P., Staibano, C., and Eriksson, M. 2004. The 2004 roundtable on UN sanctions on Iraq: Lessons learned. Uppsala: Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research. Retrieved from https://pcr.uu.se/research/smartsanctions/. Wallensteen, P and Svensson, I 2016. Fredens Diplomater. Nordisk medling från Bernadotte till Ahtisaari (Diplomats of Peace. Nordic Mediation from Bernadotte to Ahtisaari), Stockholm: Santérus.

Part IV

Peace

G

Searching for Quality Peace

21

Peacebuilding, Victory and Quality Peace

22

Conditions for Quality Peace: A Regional Approach

23

Developing Quality Peace: Moving Forward Peter Wallensteen and Madhav Joshi

H

Gendering Global Agendas

24

Resolution 1325 (2000): A Note on Its Background and Formation

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Alva Myrdal’s Approach to International Disarmament

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Gendering International Affairs

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Connecting Peace and Development

27

Scarce Goods as Political Weapons: The Case of Food

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The Politics of Base Closing: Some Swedish Experiences

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Disaster and Conflict: Conflict Formations in the Sahel and the Horn of Africa, 1971–1976

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International Freshwater Resources: Conflict or Cooperation? Peter Wallensteen and Ashok Swain

J

Acting for Peace—Academic Diplomacy

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Strengths and Limits of Academic Diplomacy: The Case of Bougainville

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An Experiment in Academic Diplomacy

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Searching for Quality Peace

Two books on Quality Peace. Photo: From author’s personal photo collection

Chapter 21

Peacebuilding, Victory and Quality Peace Peter Wallensteen

Abstract This chapter from 2015 includes Peter Wallensteen’s first academic presentation of the concept of quality peace. It begins with a review of peacebuilding (including the history of the concept) that is undertaken after a war has been ended through a negotiated settlement. Then the chapter enlarges the perspective to also include situations that are the result of one side winning (leading to victory consolidation). Wallensteen argues for the need to compare these two contrasting outcomes and specifies what is included in “quality peace” to allow for such studies.

21.1

The Challenge of Peace After War

History is scarred by war and the recurrence of war, even between the same parties.1 In a European context, the possibility of a repetition of wars in different constellations between England, Spain, France, Germany, Austria, Poland, and Russia has been taken for granted for centuries. Policies of alliances, counteralliances, arms races, and interventions have been seen in this light. The outcome of the Second World War and the end of the Cold War suggests that such patterns do not have to repeat themselves. Rivalries can cease and more constructive relations be built. Indeed, Denmark and Sweden had repeated wars in the Nordic areas through centuries, but since the early 1800s peace between these countries has been taken for granted. The same has now happened between Germany and France, as well as in a number of other civil conflicts. Close to two hundred peace agreements in the past twenty-five years serve to underline the importance of finding new relations between formerly warring parties. That said, not all have worked to durably terminate conflicts.

1

This is Chapter 1 in Wallensteen, Peter 2015, Quality Peace: Peacebuilding, Victory and World Order, Oxford University Press, pp. 1–30. References in this text are made to other chapters in this book. This chapter is republished with permission. © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_21

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Historical rivalries remain. In East Asia, the relations between China, the Koreas, and Japan are still fraught with tension, conflict, and fear of war. In Africa the repetitions of conflicts between Hutus and Tutsis in neighboring Rwanda, Burundi, and Eastern Congo appear to be ‘doomed’ to repetition. The Israeli– Palestinian-Arab relations have similar properties. Indeed, there are also for the Balkans sinister scenarios for the future of relations among Serbs, Croats, Bosniaks, and Albanians. In Eastern Europe conflicts between Ukrainians and Russians have come to the fore again in 2014. Enduring rivalries appear part of the human experience. Typically when a renewed conflict is observed in such complex relationships commentators are quick to describe this as “not unexpected,” “wars waiting to happen,” or “predestined.” The fact is, however, that few relationships are always and continuously characterized by tension and fear. There are also spells of cooperation, exchange, and even integration. Neighbors cooperate with each other as much as they quarrel with each other. There are periods of cooperation—during the Cold War described as “détente”—and such periods provide opportunities for profoundly changing relationships. Indeed, this is also how the Cold War ended, in ways that were largely unpredicted by observers and political leaders alike. The fall of the Berlin Wall was seen as a “surprise” to observers at the time, but was a logical outcome of the relaxation of tension that preceded it and that deliberately aimed at reducing the risk of a major war. The change of dynamics in the Cold War unleashed popular energy that led much further than the parties themselves had anticipated. Indeed, it helped to reduce fear and build a more reasonable relationship between the West and Russia for the following quarter of a century. It set a new pattern of interaction, appearing entrenched. This, then, made the events in Ukraine in 2014 unexpected and challenging. Also in other instances there have been conscious strategies of building peace to avoid repetition of conflict. The Nordic cooperation that emerged in the nineteenth century is an example; the European Union of the late twentieth century is another. These were political projects with elements of peacebuilding where an explicit purpose was the prevention of war recurrence. However, such cooperation may also be beneficial for more immediate and tangible reasons—not the least trade, employment, and investment. By focusing on matters that do not immediately invoke concerns of security, survival, and sovereignty it may be easier to initiate cooperation and change conflicting dynamics into constructive relations. Peace, then, becomes a spin-off from other activities. This book maintains that the postwar condition of any relationship has to be dealt with between the parties directly and placed on a national as well as international agenda. Strategies such as “peacebuilding” have a specific role in this phase of a relationship, legitimately termed strategic peacebuilding.2 It is typically 2

For a broad survey of concepts and research on strategic peacebuilding, see Lederach, John Paul and R. Scott Appleby 2010. “Strategic Peacebuilding: An Overview” in Daniel Philpott and Gerard F. Powers (eds) 2010, Strategies of Peace. Transforming Conflict in a Violent World, New York: Oxford University Press, 19–44.

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409

reflected in a peace agreement that regulates the relations between the warring parties, most importantly by dealing with the disagreement that gave rise to the war in the first place. Removing the incompatibility is a necessary first step; a peace agreement can do that.3 Implementation of the agreement is what needs to follow as a central element in post-conflict peacebuilding.4 However, we also have to consider alternative war endings, notably victories, and the way they are secured. This is a matter of victory consolidation. This may include purposeful strategies by victors against the defeated, and might be supported by the outside community. It ends the disagreement by one side prevailing, but the other side may still not cease to exist or become irrelevant. Thus there is a choice of strategies also for a victor in relations to the defeated opponent. In addition to the relations between the (formerly warring) parties in the postwar period there is the global context in which all conflicts, peace efforts, and victories are played out, a “world order.” It refers to the way the world is “ruled” at a particular time. It is not only a matter of power relations and existing institutions but also prevailing norms for diplomacy and negotiations as well as the emphasis given to the use of violence and armaments. In a more integrated world, the order would be a matter of global governance; in a fragmented world it may be a system resting on balancing of power. Thus different “orders” may have different preferences for how challenging issues are treated. The order, in that way, affects all other actors, although the extent of this can be debated. Influence goes in different directions.5 With respect to the concept of peace, this book approaches postwar conditions, no matter what type of outcome, with the help of the notion of “quality peace.”6 This means it asks if the postwar conditions regulate the incompatibility and also meet standards of dignity, security, and predictability, factors that reduce the likelihood of war recurrence. “Quality peace” is a concept for breaking out of the dichotomy of negative versus positive peace that long has been taken for granted. It simply says that peace has to have a particular quality beyond the absence of war

3

Wallensteen, Peter 2015. Understanding Conflict Resolution. Fourth Edition, London: Sage. Joshi, Madhav and John Darby, 2013. “Introducing the Peace Accords Matrix (PAM): A Database of Comprehensive Peace Agreements and Their Implementation, 1989–2007”, Peacebuilding 1 (2): 256–274. 5 Peter Wallensteen 1984. “Universalism vs. Particularism. On the Limits of Major Power Order”, Journal of Peace Research 21 (3): 243–257. Also reprinted in this volume, Chapter 16. 6 In doing so this volume parallels the edited volume on quality peace by Madhav Joshi, Peter Wallensteen (eds) 2018. Understanding Quality Peace. Peacebuilding after Civil War, London: Routledge. A further volume on peace concepts and indicators is Christian Davenport, Erik Melander and Patrick Regan, 2018. The Peace Continuum. What It Is and How to Study It, New York: Oxford University Press. The issues of quality have become increasingly important in social sciences. An example is the notion of quality of government, Bo Rothstein 2011. The Quality of Government: Corruption, Social Trust and Inequality in International Perspective, Chicago, Il: The University of Chicago Press. 4

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(the typical definition of negative peace), but it remains to specify what the critical elements of quality are.7 The standards suggested here are those to be tested throughout this book. The purpose of concepts and strategies of peacebuilding is to find postwar routes that do not lead to renewed fighting between the same parties. Peacebuilding aims to make the previous war the final one. At the same time peacebuilding mostly stems from a peace process, a peace agreement, and thus an arrangement (often supported by the international community) that is different from one party’s victory over the other(s). The point of departure for peacebuilding is that neither side of the conflict has “won.” Instead, the opposing sides have found reasons to settle for less than their maximum demands, and in the form of a public commitment, a peace agreement. There is a need for peacebuilding strategies, which, at a minimum, include the implementation of the agreement, but optimally also aim at removing some of the major causes of the previous conflict(s). The concept of peacebuilding is logically and empirically connected to a situation that emerges after a peace deal. As this makes clear, the alternative to peacebuilding is not only the continuation of the same war; it is also the victory by one side, something that is habitually neglected in the discussion. The reasons for restarting a war may be just this: the perceived inability at a particular time to achieve the long-term goal of victory. A peace agreement may—by one party or sections of that party—be regarded only as a temporary break (“pause”) in the ultimate pursuit of complete victory. Furthermore, this may well be understood by the opposing side, and thus tension remains after the agreement. Both sides continue to be insecure, as they still fear the “real” intentions of the other. A peace agreement may aim at bridging this dilemma —the origins of insecurity—but still have flaws in its formulation or implementation so that the dilemma remains. The agreed provisions may not be carried out in practice as planned. There may be unexpected factors (or actors) that change the relationships in challenging ways. Important components of the original incompatibility remain, and thus so does the security dilemma, which in turn is often the ultimate trigger of an armed conflict. It remains a strong force working on the parties pushing them toward escalation and renewed fighting. The reality of peacebuilding is located between the danger of renewed war and the hope of victory of one of the sides. It is an uneasy state of affairs, and our concern is whether the postwar period can turn into a relationship with sustainable qualities. Furthermore, this means that peacebuilding writings and peacebuilding practices have to be assessed in a different way. It is not just a comparison between different peacebuilding strategies. The peace agreement outcome needs to be related to its most obvious alternative: victory, the domination and control by one side over the society or the relationship.

7

There is now an increased interest in thinking about causes of peace, in contrast to the study of the causes of war, see Patrick Regan 2014, “Bringing Peace Back In: Presidential Address to the Peace Science Society 2013”, in Conflict Management and Peace Science 17 (1): 345–356.

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The Challenge of Peace After War

411

That is why this book takes up the challenge of victory and the way the victor consolidates power over society. For the winner this is also a matter of developing a peaceful situation after a war, but on the terms of the victor. Sometimes there may be an agreement of capitulation with stipulations on the distribution of power. Many victories, however, will have no such formal ending but simply create new conditions in a society. The opponent just disappears. If it is a government victory, it means little change in the established social order, except with respect to the defeated group and its supporters. If it is a rebel victory, it is likely to result in revolutionary transformations, with repercussions throughout society. If the winner is a separatist group, it means instituting new national territorial conditions, or even the creation of two separate states, where there previously was only one. In an inter-state setting the winner may have occupied the defeated nation(s), partially or fully, with far-reaching consequences for governance as well as territorial issues. Whatever the outcome, the winner is likely to be concerned about maintaining the status quo that the war has generated. This is what is called victory consolidation: the way the victor manages the victory, particularly in relation to the defeated party. Consequently, we ask if processes of peacebuilding and victory consolidation meet the criteria of quality peace and, thus, result in a situation that will not lead to the recurrence of war. There are many challenges that are the same in both these postwar situations. Whether the result of a victory or a joint arrangement, the security issue remains. As we just mentioned some actors may be insecure and thus the war may be reignited either as an offensive or a defensive move to enhance one party’s security vis-à-vis the other. The respect of the other side and that side’s right to live a secure existence is a central aspect of peacebuilding. This is the point where “dignity” enters this discussion: Does the postwar situation include respect for the equal rights of the opponent, in commitment and in practice? Without a positive response to this question, the dynamics of insecurity continue to operate and may at any moment turn a normal dispute into an escalating conflict and, sometimes, a war. A key issue in peacebuilding and victory consolidation, as a consequence, has to be its ability to reassure the opposing sides of their equal rights, or respect for their dignity. This is a key consideration in quality peace. This is not without precedent. The UN Charter mentions human dignity in its preamble. It is also possible to develop indicators of human dignity.8 Human dignity, in other words, has to be a central concern, whether based on class, identity, gender, or other dimensions.9 This is an issue that has been given little explicit

8

Schachter, Oscar 1983. Human Dignity as a Normative Concept. American Journal of International Law, 77 (4): 848–854. 9 There is a need to develop indicators for dignity as well as for quality peace. Schachter’s list does not explicitly include gender, but much recent work points to its importance. He also neglects class dimensions. It is not the purpose here to develop new indicators, however. Rather, customary measurements will be used covering both the relations between the former warring parties and the society as a whole. The aim now is only to demonstrate the utility of the notion of quality peace for relations that are important in making war and building peace.

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attention in the dominant peacebuilding literature and seldom approached systematically in studies of victory.10 Violations of dignity in the form of discrimination, repression, and persecution may have sparked the war that the world much later tries to prevent from recurring. Obviously, the postwar situation also involves an immediate security problem for the former warring parties. In a peace agreement they may ask for security guarantees (by keeping some of their own forces, by inviting international peacekeepers, or other forms of protection). In a victory the defeated leadership may sometimes be allowed to leave the country, at other times have to face criminal charges, or even execution. The security issue, however, also involves followers as well as security in the country at large. If there are groups fearing a restart of war, they may take action that may make such a recurrence more likely. There is also an important gender aspect, captured by the notion of security equality: Security for women is not always the same as for men in a postwar setting.11 Thus quality peace includes the notion of security for all. Furthermore, there is a time dimension. The examples of strategies for postwar conditions mentioned initially—Nordic regional cooperation and the European Union—all work with long-term perspectives, where decisions are expected to create stable conditions for the future. The idea is to tie countries and peoples together in such a way that they no longer fear war from the other side while remaining respected as autonomous, equal actors—and that this state of affairs is stable. This means that there is a certainty about the new conditions and that they are unlikely to be reversed in the foreseeable future (i.e., predictability). The stability makes possible investments in the postwar situation that in turn strengthen the peace. It makes the new conditions sustainable. For how long? Normally, the question is not asked. If peace remains for a period, this increases the chances that it will remain in the next period as well. If, on the other hand, a significant actor regards the situation only as a period for its own recuperation, reorganization, and learning of lessons for pursuit of its previous ambition, fear remains. The future becomes unpredictable. Such ambitions are easily discovered in relationships that have seen enduring rivalries. The security dilemma returns in full force and the postwar arrangement is challenged. This is to say that peacebuilding, like victory consolidation, is a long-term project without a clear end point. Both situations aim at creating a new normality, where the peaceful pursuit of goals is taken for granted. 10

There is some debate on this concept in relation to human rights (Bagaric, Mirko and James Allan 2006. The Vacuous Concept of Dignity, Journal of Human Rights, 5: 257–270) and from a public health perspective (Jacobson, Nora 2009. A taxonomy of dignity, BMC International Health and Human Rights, 9 (3), https://doi.org/10.1186/1472-698X-9-3), but little from a peace perspective. However, a recent contribution is Hicks, with examples from the use of the concept in conflict resolution experiences (Hicks, Donna 2011. Dignity. The Essential Role it Plays in Resolving Conflict. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press). The opposites to dignity are humiliation and discrimination, for which there are more measures available. 11 Olsson, Louise 2011. “Security Equality: The Protection of Men and Women by Peace Operations.” Paper presented at the annual convention of the International Studies Association, Montreal, Canada, March 16, 2011.

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A key indicator for both could be the peaceful transfer of power from the leaders at the end of the war to a new generation or even from one side to the other. If this happens it means that basic methods and rules are not questioned. When peacebuilding and victory consolidation work, they are no longer seen as peacebuilding or victory, only as a typical human undertaking to build a society that is “good” for all. The situation is turned into a new “normal” or “natural” state of affairs.12 From this we can surmise that there is an underlying peace concept that guides the work of this volume. Quality peace means the creation of postwar conditions that make the inhabitants of a society (be it an area, a country, a region, a continent, or a planet) secure in life and dignity now and for the foreseeable future.13 Together these factors draw attention to the quality of the relationships following a war and the regulation of the disagreements that led to the war. Peace is not simply a matter of being without war for a period of time. It is a matter of maintaining conditions that do not produce war in the first place or—as some form of “peace” has failed previously—not repeating the same failures. The failure of one period of “peace” suggests that it did not meet the quality standards of “peace.” Thus the postwar conditions that this book focuses on constitute the quality of that peace. The question asked and to be answered is: Will the postwar conditions be able to handle the strains in a society and thus not see a relapse into the same conflict, or the start of another conflict? When that question can be answered in the affirmative, then there is “quality peace.” Otherwise there is not; there is simply a postwar period, or, even worse, an interwar period. At the outset, it may appear that strategies of peacebuilding and victory consolidation are each other’s opposites. They are different ways of regulating incompatibility, no doubt. However, both aim at achieving a lasting peace and preventing the recurrence of war, but the relationship between the formerly warring parties is built in entirely different ways. There are observers who see victory and its consolidation as the only stable situation: let the conflict take its course. It will create a “natural” end point. Third-party interventions and peace deals will only prevent this and negotiated solutions will be “artificial.” From this perspective, settlements result in postponing the ultimate confrontation and a lasting victory. The idea is that, after victory, all actors will accommodate to the new situation, and thus stability will be secured. The typical example in the post-World War II period is, of course, the fate of the defeated Axis powers. The peace that was imposed has

“Normalization” is a term used in divergent social settings. In disability research, normalization refers to making life as similar to the life of the non-disabled as possible, inspired by the work of Bengt Nirje. In studies of rape, it refers to the normalization of violence in a domestic relationship (e.g., a woman’s or child’s acceptance of it as “normal”). There is, however, very little on how the non-use of force is normalized in postwar situations. 13 This definition was originally presented to represent only peacebuilding in Wallensteen, Peter 2010. “Strategic Peacebuilding: Concepts and Challenges,” in Philpott, Daniel and Gerard F. Powers (ed). Strategies of Peace, Oxford University Press 2010, pp. 45–64, p. 50. Here, however, it is enlarged to cover victory consolidation as well, thus turning it into a definition of quality peace. 12

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demonstrated the importance of thoroughly defeating the enemy. The costs, the proponents of the victory strategy argue, may have been high but the results are more durable. Germany and Japan have, for seventy years, been cooperative and constructive in relations to the former enemies and the world has made enormous strides in technological development, economic well-being, and peace. These are powerful arguments. We will return to them throughout this book. However, they have to be considered parallel to peacebuilding strategies. Is it true that victory typically results in more lasting peace and that it also generates a higher quality peace than does the peacebuilding strategy? The underlying idea of this book is to contrast peaceful peacebuilding with consolidation of military victory in terms of their ability to generate quality peace. Is it at all reasonable to compare such different outcomes and postwar strategies? The debate suggests that it should be possible as examples are used in both directions; the different elements of quality peace conditions are applicable to both peacebuilding situations and victory consolidation outcomes. It may seem more reasonable that a shared peace agreement would result in “higher” quality peace, as all parties are involved in building the peaceful conditions. But logically there could also be high-quality outcomes of victory if, for instance, this outcome also can respect the security and dignity of the loser and thus reduce the security dilemma. The actual and contemporary experience should be the judge of this. Furthermore, in this formulation it is clear that the evaluation of the quality of peace applies to a great many situations. The present peacebuilding paradigm almost exclusively deals with internal conflict in the post-Cold War setting. This includes pertinent issues of failed states, corruption, poverty, resource exploitation, and lack of democracy. In short, these are wars that deal with governance issues: rule by whom, for whom, with what means, and with which results? In contrast, the victory paradigm has often been more focused on inter-state war, be they the World Wars, the Gulf War, the Iraq War of 2003, or others. Here we suggest an approach that enables an enlightened conversation. This is done by looking for quality peace in a comprehensive manner and by including three major types of armed conflicts.14 First, there are the intra-state relations that the peacebuilding literature typically addresses, the traditional civil wars. They are numerous and thus constitute an important element in this book. Second, there are the inter-state relations that we just touched upon. They involve regional rivalries, interventions, and border wars, as well as major power struggles and world wars. The post-Cold War era has seen little of such conflict and, thus, it may easily drop from the analytical horizon. This should not be allowed: Nuclear weapons-equipped India and Pakistan seriously confronted each other in 1999, and Ethiopia and Eritrea saw a nasty regional conflict, which ended in a peace agreement in 2000, still to be implemented. These should not be considered exclusively inter-state conflicts; similar rivalries affect other countries as well. For instance both India and Pakistan have been engaged on their own terms in Afghanistan as this

14

Wallensteen (2015).

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country’s fate affects their military calculations. Similarly Ethiopia and Eritrea have been concerned about the influence of the other in Somalia, not the least for strategic reasons. Obviously Afghanistan and Somalia, at this time, are not only regional issues, but also elements in global campaigns against terrorism and piracy. This points to the need to be attentive to regional and global peacemaking, as the outcome in one country will affect populations and countries outside the core rivalries. Regional and global conditions will receive separate attention in this book, as they bring us to the issues of world order. The notion of quality peace applies to all these complexities. It also applies to the third category: internal conflicts over territorial disagreements, where the issue is the status of a particular area of the state, an intra-state region, and whether it is to remain within an existing state or become an independent entity of its own. It is a conflict type logically located between the previous two: it can be seen as internal, but it can also turn into an inter-state conflict, for instance, if the rebels are internationally recognized. This category involves classic dignity concerns: Will a particular segment of society (ethnic, national, linguistic, etc.) get the respect to which it is entitled within the present state formation, or does it require a fundamental reformation? To the actors themselves such conflicts are seen as “separatism” (the government) or “liberation” (the rebels). The different conceptions reflect the motivations of the parties, but in practice there is no disagreement between them about what the incompatibility concerns. In much analysis such conflicts have been subsumed under internal conflict in general. This is unsatisfactory. They highlight territorial issues and security dilemmas that are different from battles over governance in one country or the rivalry between two states.15 They require their own analysis. This book gives specific attention to such state formation conflicts. Thus the book deals with three types of post-conflict situations (Chaps. 3, 4, and 5) and the issues of security, dignity, and durability. This, then, is placed in world order and institutional perspectives (Chaps. 6 and 7). Finally, Chap. 8 draws quality peace conclusions for strategic peacebuilding and victory consolidation. In this way, this book will hopefully make a contribution to the development of peacebuilding studies, victory analysis, and world order approaches by demonstrating the interconnectedness of different fields of inquiry and political action. The contribution of this work can be understood from Table 21.1. It describes the attention to central concepts—notably peacebuilding, victory, and peace agreement. In the five years 2010–2014 there were more than 1200 articles published in five highly regarded journals concerned with peace and conflict matters. It is remarkable that these three concepts were infrequently mentioned. There was somewhat more attention to “peace” in journals dealing specifically with “peace” and “conflict resolution” than in those dealing with “international” and “world” studies, as more than 10% of the articles mentioned this notion in the text of the articles. However, in the abstracts it was clear that this notion was only central to

15

Wallensteen (2015).

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Table 21.1 Peacebuilding in contemporary scholarship. Share of articles of a journal mentioning key words in abstracts, with full text in parentheses. Key Peace Research Journals, 2010–2014. Source: Done by Audrey Ann Faber, November 25, 2014 Journal

Peacebuilding

Journal of Peace Research

2.5 (26.1)

Victory

0.8 (1.1) Conflict Management and Peace 2.5 (14.7) 1.2 Science (1.2) Journal of Conflict Resolution 1.1 (12.7) 0.5 (1.1) International Studies Quarterly 2.3 (5.2) 0.6 (1.5) World Politics 0 (3.9) 0 (0.7) Total, % 1.9 (13.7) 0.7 (1.2) Total, no of articles 23 (165) 8 (14) Note: Includes peacebuilding, peace building, and peace-building. term is used in conjunction with war.

Peace agreement

Total articles

2.8 (12.1)

356

1.8 (20.2)

163

1.6 (11.6)

189

0.3 (4.1)

344

0.7 (21.7) 1.5 (12)

152 1,204

18 (145) 1,204 Victory is used only when the

1% or 2% of the articles. This translates into twenty-three articles. Surprisingly “victory” and “peace agreement” achieved even less attention. This book hopes to develop these concepts by empirically “confronting” them to post-Cold War conditions. However, before embarking on this we need to review the history of peacebuilding and situate this study in existing literature. Peacebuilding is a novel concept and requires closer scrutiny, but so do the traditional policies of victory consolidation, and the two need to be related to each other. The remainder of this chapter and Chap. 2 will do just that.

21.2

Peacebuilding: A Conceptual History

Peacebuilding clearly has become a post-Cold War issue and the term does not go far back in history. The reconstruction of Western Europe after the Second World War could today have been classified as a regional peacebuilding project, but the term was not used at the time. In fact the conditions in Europe were the result of a victory, and there was no general peace agreement after the Second World War between the allied countries and their enemies. Instead there was occupation, domination and, after a while, more narrow agreements. The Western European situation does not fit perfectly with peacebuilding notions, but it still provides stimulating applications of an idea that is in focus today: finding ways to integrate an economy in such a way that the former warriors no longer can confront each other. It was seen as a peace project, no doubt, but it was also a matter of economic

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Peacebuilding: A Conceptual History

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development, reconstruction after the war, and building defenses against new threats. It was partially motivated by a fear from the Soviet Union from the outside, a fear of Communist takeover from the inside, and a fear from history of Nazism and fascism again becoming powerful. The specter was not only the Second World War, but also the Great Depression that preceded it and the instabilities created after the First World War. Thus the relations between the victorious West and the World War II losers fit within our analysis, as do those between the Soviet Union and the same actors. They were structured in different ways and thus improve our understanding of postwar conditions. These are issues that seldom appear in the discussions on peacebuilding, but this concept as well as victory consolidation is general and thus applicable across time and space. Consequently we will deal with these matters, notably in Chaps. 6 and 7.16 It is remarkable to see that textbooks presenting the scholarly subject of peace in the 1970s, 1980s or the early 1990s do not include peacebuilding as a concept.17 The very first use of the term, as far as this author has been able to find, was in an article by peace researcher Johan Galtung in 1976.18 He presented peacebuilding as an alternative to peacekeeping and peacemaking. His article does not contain succinct definitions but his reasoning may be summarized as saying that peacebuilding is an associative structure of self-supporting conflict resolution building on specific peace-enhancing principles such as equity and symbiosis.19 The article was not widely circulated and is now available only in Galtung’s collected work from a publisher in Denmark.20 It did not have an impact at the time but has since been rediscovered. It was written in the midst of the Cold War, when more comprehensive concepts beyond the established notion of peacekeeping had difficulties in gaining attention.

16

At the end of the Second World War there was a keen awareness of how key factors of unemployment, loss of income, financial imbalance, economic insecurity, and extremism together could result in revanchism, militarism, and risk-taking that again could put the entire planet at risk. The World Bank originally was called the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development, expressing exactly such sentiments, and thus pointing to elements in the present use of the concept of “peacebuilding.” 17 See, for example, Curle, Adam 1971. Making Peace. London: Tavistock Publications, Barash, David P. 1991. Introduction to Peace Studies. Wadsworth Publishing Co. 18 Undoubtedly the history of peace research cannot be written without appreciating the work of Galtung. This notwithstanding, peace research now finds itself in a post-Galtung phase with respect to conflict analysis and public pronouncements. 19 Galtung, Johan 1976. ‘Three Approaches to Peace: Peacekeeping, Peacemaking and Peacebuilding’, in Galtung, Johan. Peace, War and Defence. Essays in Peace Research. Volume II, Copenhagen: Ejlers, pp. 282–304. Gawerc, Michell I. 2006. Peace-Building: Theoretical and Concrete Perspectives. Peace & Change, 31 (4): 435–478. 20 The article in Impact of Science on Society 26 (1/2) is thirteen pages, obviously shorter than the chapter in Galtung’s Essays, (Vol. 2, 282–304), but both are from 1976; thus it is hard to know which one is the original one. References are here to the chapter. The article is actually called “Three Realistic Approaches to Peace”; the chapter dropped the reference to “realistic.”

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Box 21.1: UN Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali and Peacebuilding. Source: Alvaro de Soto, communication to the author, November 1, 2008. Ambassador Alvaro de Soto, at the time Senior Political Adviser to the Secretary-General, recounts how the concept of peacebuilding emerged in the UN in 1992. On January 31, 1992, the Security Council met for the first time ever at the summit level, convened by British Prime Minister John Major. The organizing idea was the opportunities offered by the end of the Cold War. The Council adopted a statement in which it mentioned El Salvador, asking Boutros Boutros-Ghali to provide recommendations on how to improve the capacity of the UN in peacemaking, peacekeeping, and preventive diplomacy. The Secretary-General created a task force chaired by Vladimir Petrovsky, of which I was a part, to prepare those recommendations. In June the same year, the Secretary-General went to the Environment and Development Conference/Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and for official visits to Brazil, Argentina, and Uruguay. I was traveling with him. While traveling we received a late draft of what became An Agenda for Peace. On a side trip to Iguazu, as he was reading it, he asked me: “Where does what we are doing in El Salvador fit here? It isn’t peacemaking, since that’s already done. It isn’t peacekeeping as we know it because we are doing much more than simply monitoring a separation of forces and ceasefire. It isn’t preventive diplomacy either. In fact, what we are doing is post-conflict, and it is more like peace building.” He saw that what we were embarking on was likely to be a conceptually new set of activities and that there would likely be a lot of it as the Cold War wound down, and that it would be as important as the three areas on which the Council had asked him to make recommendations. So I followed up by cabling Virendra Dayal (interim Chef de Cabinet with the Secretary-General) reporting on what he had said, adding that he wanted to make this a new category, elevated to the same rank as the other three.

Only after the end of the Cold War could international organizations such as the UN squarely confront wars that had gone on for a longer period of time. During the Cold War these conflicts were often inaccessible to international concern. Superpower rivalry dominated and precluded third parties from getting involved. After becoming personally engaged in one of the conflicts on the UN agenda, UN Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali highlighted the importance of peacebuilding in his report to the UN Security Council, An Agenda for Peace, in June 1992. This text is today the starting point for much conceptual analysis of the term peacebuilding. It did not build on Galtung’s terminologies, although there are similarities. A key adviser to Boutros-Ghali at the time, Ambassador Alvaro de Soto, tells how the concept emerged. The Secretary-General searched for an

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Peacebuilding: A Conceptual History

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appropriate way to describe what the UN was planning to do following the peace agreement in El Salvador (Box 21.1 gives de Soto’s full account), in which de Soto was a crucial mediator. They realized that it was not enough to bring about an end to the war and then leave the parties to themselves. Measures had to be initiated to prevent the two-decades-long war from restarting. Boutros-Ghali identified the word “peacebuilding” as an appropriate way for describing what El Salvador now needed. With such a general formulation the concept would also help to point to the need of major UN efforts elsewhere. Thus, Boutros-Ghali’s seminal report included the first UN definition of peacebuilding.21 It is described as: . .action to identify and support structures which will tend to strengthen and solidify peace in order to avoid a relapse into conflict. (UN Secretary-General 1992: An Agenda for Peace, paragraph 21)

Boutros-Ghali gave examples based on his and the organization’s practical orientation, when transferred also to an inter-state context (which was the framework within which the UN was still thinking; after all the Cold War was barely over): . . to develop agriculture, improve transportation or utilize resources such as water or electricity that they need to share, or joint programmes through which barriers between nations are brought down by means of freer travel, cultural exchanges, and mutually beneficial youth and educational projects. Reducing hostile perceptions through educational exchanges and curriculum reform…. (UN Secretary-General 1992: An Agenda for Peace, paragraphs 56 and 58)

Many of these issues are as much a matter of development and economic integration as peacebuilding. In that sense, it is reminiscent of the programs of reconstruction and development after the Second World War. From the very beginning there was a problem afflicting this concept: How could peacebuilding be separated from other concerns, notably economic growth or social justice? Boutros-Ghali did not draw a strict line, and probably did not see the need. El Salvador was poor and tired of war. The government would be happy for almost anything it could get in terms of international assistance. The parties in El Salvador were not likely to be fussy about the labeling. However, in his following work—simply termed “Supplement to An Agenda for Peace” from January 1995, largely done by Ambassador de Soto—the concept achieved more precision, in particular a focus on security and institutional dimensions.22 It dealt with intra-state concerns specifically related to the war experience: Demilitarization, the control of small arms, institutional reform, improved police and judiciary systems, the monitoring of human rights, electoral reform and social and economic development…. (UN Secretary-General 1995: Supplement, paragraph 47) 21

UN Secretary-General 1992. An Agenda for Peace, Preventive diplomacy, peacemaking and peacekeeping, A/47/277 -S/24111 17 June 1992. 22 UN Secretary-General 1995. Supplement to An Agenda for Peace: Position Paper of the Secretary-General on the Occasion of the Fiftieth Anniversary of the United Nations, January 1995 (A/50/60-S/1995/1).

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Although the framework was still wide, not the least in incorporating development concerns, attention was given to the capacities of states to operate legitimately and responsibly in the post-conflict environment. The UN conceptualization, as we can see, has been highly practical, indeed operative. It was, from the beginning, centered on post-conflict situations. This is now an entrenched UN tradition. This is reflected in later documents, notably the World Summit Outcome in 2005,23 which, more than a decade later, advocated the creation of a United Nations Peacebuilding Commission with the purpose to: … focus attention to the reconstruction and institution building efforts necessary for recovery from conflict and support the development of integrated strategies in order to lay the foundation for sustainable development. . . [and] extend the period of attention by the international community to post-conflict recovery. (World Summit Outcome 2005: paragraphs 97–98)

As the World Summit statement makes clear, the international community had by now also discovered other problems not apparent earlier: Different actors were doing different “peacebuilding” activities, thus requiring coordination and integration. It also noted that the attention to particular conflicts had a tendency to go away, thus requiring an institutional structure in the UN itself to keep a consistent focus on the same cases of potential war renewal. An explicit reason for the UN to keep up its interest was the high frequency of a return to war in many intra-state conflicts, sometimes being as high as 50% within a few years of the previous conflict being terminated. Still, this means that, conceptually, peacebuilding had become a more complicated undertaking. The focus remained on the “recovery from conflict” (i.e., on the postwar phase). It was largely concerned with internal development and one country at a time. But the question of who should carry the responsibility for peacebuilding and how coordination should be done had become a problem for decision-makers beyond the war-torn state. In the World Summit Outcome formulation peacebuilding as a concept is removed from what Boutros-Ghali also had in mind: the inter-state relationships. In the UN parlance peacebuilding had by now become firmly anchored as a concept of post-conflict internal developments of societies.24 This means that situations in Western Europe after the Second World War find themselves outside this conceptualization. However, nobody would deny the need for preventing a return to traditional war-prone rivalries. Indeed, if we are concerned with such broader peacebuilding issues, inter-state matters also have to be included, as well as major power relations. It is a definite peacebuilding question to ask how one should make sure that, for instance, the Cold War between the West and Russia does not return. What options are there for turning rivalries into constructive relations? Furthermore, the Western European experience was regional, not just a bilateral development. With the strong focus of peacebuilding as a matter of dealing with 23

World Summit Outcome 2005. United Nations General Assembly, 15 September. Call, Charles (ed) 2008. Building States to Build Peace. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner.

24

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internal affairs, the interconnections between countries and societies can easily be lost from analysis and political action. This conceptual development in the UN means that the focus of peacebuilding has been dramatically narrowed. It is not difficult to understand why this is so, as it may make the concept more efficient on an operative level (responding to questions such as, for example, regarding practical measures) and on an organizational one (whether, for example, the Peacebuilding Commission can do something that is not done by the “normal” development agencies). Both these concerns serve to limit the peacebuilding concept. In connection to this book, however, with its focus on quality peace and applying it to all types of postwar situations, peacebuilding may regain some of its original content. This, furthermore, can also be seen when introducing the concept of conflict prevention into the discussion. In some situations post-conflict activities are in fact pre-conflict prevention work: to prevent a conflict from restarting. If a conflict nevertheless breaks out again, it is likely to challenge the strategies of peacebuilding that were there to prevent this. Then peacebuilding after one war becomes a matter of conflict prevention before the (possible) next one. It is obviously not easy to draw a strict line between what is post-conflict and what is pre-conflict. That is a chief reason why other conceptions of peacebuilding are more focused on continued cycles of conflict. Lederach summarizes this strand of thinking when stating that peacebuilding involves the transformation of relationships: Sustainable reconciliation, he says, requires both structural and relational transformations.25 That obviously enlarges the perspective even further. There are many relationships to transform. It is also possible that even “dysfunctional” relationships may not give rise to conflict, breakdowns, or wars. But it points to a broader understanding of social interaction that is involved in peacebuilding. In one sense this was also part of the original concept. The idea has consistently been to prevent the recurrence of conflict. Relationships are seen as continuous, almost eternal. The end of one war does not preclude that the same relationship may see a recurrence. Consequently peacebuilding has to change that particular relationship, that is, arrive at some form of relational transformation. Galtung’s conception included the idea of self-supporting conflict resolution. This implies that the potentially conflicting parties have found a shared framework within which to manage their relationships. To Galtung this equals a “structure,” to Lederach a transformation of relations. However, there is nothing to say that such transformation of relationships only takes place after a peace agreement between the parties. A victory also results in a transformation of relations, and it may even open up possibilities for the construction of self-supporting structures for conflict resolution. It could be part of the victors’ consolidation of their hold of power. This is a point with introducing the concept of quality peace, no matter what form of war outcome we are concerned with (peacebuilding or victory consolidation): it will bring in a tougher comparison

25

Lederach, John Paul 1997. Building Peace. Sustainable Reconciliation in Divided Societies. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press.

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between what can be done with peaceful means and what is the result of the use of violence. With this more holistic and long-term perspective the challenge to peacebuilding becomes not one of a particular measure of post-conflict peacebuilding but one of dealing with cycles of violence. From the quality peace perspective these cycles have to be broken or even turned into constructive peace-reinforcing dynamics. Such an approach to quality peace is supported by the fact that the same country may experience repeated events of violence, even to the point where each conflict can be described as phases and periods in a continuing relationship. Thus the same relationship may experience both peacebuilding and victory consolidation. The same may afflict particular regions that seem trapped in repetitive wars and armed conflicts. As such situations are like infected wounds, they attract a host of other interests that see opportunities for their particular agendas. Regional conflicts easily become entangled with global networks, alliances, and issues. What appears initially as a task for local efforts may quickly become a matter of global dimensions. From a UN perspective, such enlarged conceptions of peacebuilding may lead to a broad and complicated program not likely to appeal to practitioners or finance ministers. Even so, this approach points to interesting possibilities. Conflictual regions may change, as can be seen also in recent times. East Asia as a region has not seen wars in thirty years, suggesting that something has changed in regional relations. This is the point of departure in a large project on East Asian Peace based at Uppsala University.26 In formerly war-torn and coup-prone countries (such as Bolivia, Greece, Turkey, Liberia, and Bangladesh) the absence of war and even military coups is increasingly taken for granted. Indeed countries in the midst of regional turmoil, war, and genocide have still remained peaceful (Costa Rica in Central America in the 1980s; Botswana in Southern Africa; Tanzania despite neighboring Rwanda and Uganda; Zambia situated between war-torn Angola, Congo, and repression in Rhodesia/Zimbabwe); what can be learned from such experiences and how are they different from those in less fortunate regions (such as Central and Western Africa, Horn of Africa, Middle East, Central Asia, and Indochina)? An analysis building on dimensions of quality peace, in other words, can rest on a comparison of cases with and without war, and also on comparisons among regions with different experiences and where there are important changes over time. This is a vast topic of its own, largely beyond the scope of this book, but pertinent inter-state regional issues are dealt with, notably in book Sect. 7.2. Galtung’s general conception moves the searchlight further, with its emphasis on equity and symbiosis: Interactions on equal levels create linkages and prevent isolation, particularly if they also include people-to-people exchanges.27 Lederach does not detail the kind of changed relationship he has in mind, while Doyle and Sambanis, in one of the first quantitative studies on the subject, point to local

26

Tønnesson, Stein 2011. The East Asian Peace since 1979: How Deep? How Can It Be Explained? download from http://uu.diva-portal.org/smash/project.jsf?pid=project%3A2034&dswid=-9573. 27 Galtung (1976: 298–300).

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Peacebuilding: A Conceptual History

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capacity for conflict resolution as a central factor in their model, in a dynamic interaction with international capabilities.28 The role of democracy has become increasingly central but sometimes more as a hope for “participatory politics” than in terms of particular forms of governance.29 In some way, all these conceptions point to the possibility of large parts of the population being engaged in control of their own destiny. It comes close to the notion of “dignity” that is important here, and for which democracy is one possible organizational expression. It is of central concern in thinking about quality peace. This means that a simple negative definition of “no renewal of war” is not enough as a target for peace after a war. The negative formulation has the advantage of being clear, easy to understand, and even to measure universally over time and space. But the postwar situation may still be unsatisfactory in other respects, and elements in this may actually spur new conflicts. Thus the quality of the relationships is of importance. Equity may mean deliberate redistribution of resources from rich to poor, for the purpose of improving quality of life for the latter (which could be a value in itself, but also instrumental in making impoverished young people less susceptible to recruitment into armies). It may serve to reduce ostentatious inequalities in society that otherwise may prompt opposition and, ultimately, armed rebellion. With improved access to resources (education, basic material needs, employment, influence), more people have a chance to say no to “jobs” that negate their humanity (be it rebel armies, bonded labor, prostitution, or drug trade). This means, in fact, providing dignity. In particular, we should note that quality peace is a relational concept. Primarily, it concerns the relations between the (formerly) warring parties, their supporters, or their entire “sides,” be they, for instance, combatants, the identity groups to which they relate, or their funders. When quality peace focuses on dignity, it means dignity accorded to the former warring parties, but also to actors and populations within the society at large, or to relevant inter-state interactions. Furthermore, postwar efforts must be carried out with an eye to the future. It has to be a long-term development that provides security to life (i.e., no wars or other forms of violence-induced insecurity) as well as dignity (as just described). These are the post-conflict conditions that make the inhabitants of a society secure in life and dignity now and for the foreseeable future. Here, we move one step further and apply the same criteria to a postwar situation that results from victory. Life after a war must have such a strong quality that there will remain few compelling reasons to restart the terminated armed conflict. The higher the quality of the peace for the many, the more likely it is that there will be an interest among sufficiently large segments of a population to prevent the recurrence of war. This definition may appear to apply only to one society at a time, but this is not so. Having one society that is internally secure next to a neighbor that is not brings

Doyle, Michael W. and Nicholas Sambanis 2000. ‘International Peacebuilding: A Theoretical and Quantitative Analysis’, American Political Science Review 94 (4): 779–801. 29 Call (2008: 6). 28

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insecurity to both. The threat of conflict spilling over or leading to a dispute with the neighbor is a threat to the inhabitants of both societies. They are no longer secure in life and dignity. The Cold War balance of terror (deterrence) rested on the deliberate and mutual infliction of insecurity on East and West by the West and the East, respectively. Contrary to this, neighbors have an interest in the well-being of each other, whether they are strongly integrated or not. The concept of quality peace thus incorporates inter-societal relationships. With increased integration across the borders the chances of maintaining peace may also increase. Once the neighbors are more closely integrated they may come to constitute a shared society (as the EU is presently attempting). Cooperation is a way of reducing uncertainty, but does not require complete integration. There can be regional peace creating strategies without removing the particularity of the constituent units. Dignity means diversity without discrimination. This is important, as “cooperation” could be another way of describing exploitation, where one side benefits more from the relationship than the other. Exploitative cooperation can become a seed of conflict, and to structure cooperation so that it is mutually advantageous is likely to be difficult. In a world without central government it is close to impossible to structure cooperation in ways that makes it universally true that all benefit and no one loses, and at the same moment in time. This is also an observation that is valid for an intra-state setting, as well as a challenge to governance. As a result of deliberate policies some areas may benefit, while others may lose. The close “cooperation” that a shared state may imply may in fact reflect domination by some sectors or regions over others; such integration is likely to lead to continuous friction and, eventually, a desire to break away from either those benefiting from the arrangement (not wanting to share with the others) or those losing (seeing the situation as unfair and biased). Thus the logic of separatism/liberation that we have pointed to is an integral part of what peacebuilding as well as victory consolidation has to deal with. Autonomy, independence, and reduced integration may be ways to establish dignity. If this can be done in peaceful ways, it is likely to be another route to quality peace. It is as legitimate as the one of integration. A generic definition of quality peace also has to include the possibility of the parties terminating their relationship. Thus academically the definitions of peacebuilding as well as quality peace remain wider than the operative ones of the practitioners and social engineers. There are valid practical considerations for limiting the concept of peacebuilding to intra-state conditions after a war. It is more possible to handle, as the states constitute the basic units of the UN system, international law, and international transactions. However, even so, attention to inter-state and regional affairs is important and should not be underestimated. Peacebuilding cannot be an isolated activity, even less so in today’s highly interconnected world. What happens in Afghanistan affects distant United States as well as neighboring China. Events in Sri Lanka, Pakistan, Iraq, Southern Africa, or Latin America influence diasporas residing in North America and Europe. What happens in Burma and Bangladesh has an impact on peoples in Indonesia and Australia. Indeed, one of the most diverse peace missions presently in operation is the international naval flotilla that

21.2

Peacebuilding: A Conceptual History

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protects the shipping lanes through the Bay of Aden and the Indian Ocean from pirates based in Somalia. Seemingly “distant” waters have become a common concern. As we have made clear, peacebuilding refers to concerted efforts after a war that has been ended through a peace deal. The concept stands in an uneasy relationship to war itself. If countries were building peace without having recently been at war, would this not constitute peacebuilding? Galtung’s definition does not have the element of “post-conflict” in it. Peacebuilding is then a general reconstruction of society so that it will remain at peace with itself and with the surrounding world, whether or not it has recent experiences of war, coups, rebellions, genocide, repression, or other forms of systematic violence. However, very few countries are without either of these experiences. Sweden most recently fought a war in 1809 with Russia and an armed conflict in 1814 with Norway. It is a uniquely long period. Does it contain elements of a peacebuilding strategy? One could argue that. The country at the same time went through a peaceful transformation from an authoritarian monarchy to a democratic welfare state, providing more dignity to the individuals and reasonable parliamentary barriers against new wars (as seen in the opposition to a possible war with Norway when it unilaterally broke with Sweden in 1905). It also moved from an agricultural society to a leading industrial nation, where it became more valuable to be an Executive Director or a Director General than a Major General. There was a shift in structural conditions as well as in values of life. Thus most countries will have an interest in peacebuilding, whether or not they have a very recent experience of war. To most people, war is a traumatic and violent encounter. For some states, it is part of their national—and often distant— history, but for half the countries of the world today, it is a very recent experience. Galtung uses the Nordic countries as an example of inter-state peacebuilding, and their recent war experiences among each other date back to the early 19th century. Their cooperation may have less to do with a history of war and more with the increasing commonality of being geographically peripheral and subject to similar pressures from stronger powers. Their cooperation may in fact have been a preemptive strategy to avoid future entanglements with major actors rather than a post-conflict strategy reconciling previous wars. Nevertheless it has a lot to say about peacebuilding, under conditions when states are similar in strength, can easily communicate with one another, share many values, and trade closely. For instance, cooperation included a currency union that lasted for several decades, and partly explains why these three countries (Denmark, Norway, and Sweden) still cling to their national krona, in spite of pressures to join the euro zone. It was once tried. The experience of the European Union is another example frequently cited, being closer to a conscious post-conflict peacebuilding effort, albeit under other labels. Actually, in the terminology developed here, it is more a matter of victory consolidation, at least in its early phases. There had been two wars and the engineers behind European integration obviously wanted to find ways to prevent this from repeating itself. At the same time, as in the Scandinavian context, it had a realpolitik dimension: The Western European countries were pushed together to face the threat from the Soviet bloc and the dangers of a nuclear war. It was not

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conflict prevention, as it did not aim at dealing directly with that threat, but community building to be stronger against the shared enemy. In a sense these two efforts (the Nordic and the European ones) were as much strategies of deterrence and unity against possible future threats as of post-conflict reconciliation. The intra-state peacebuilding efforts that are focused on today by the international community are markedly different from the Nordic and European examples. Contemporary cases build on a peace agreement, which often has involved sizable international engagement (with third parties, peacekeepers, sanctions, etc.) and may include international understandings of what is a “good,” “positive” peace (respect for human rights, dealing with war crimes issues, etc.). The former warring parties may remain as political actors but are now expected to act within a shared framework and no longer be polarized against each other. Rules have been shaped for the conduct of future disputes and conflicts. The peace agreements since 1989 are—in some ways—pacts between former warring actors, committing themselves to construct a state, a society, a relationship, and/or basic policies together. As this was not their reason for engaging in conflict, it means both (or all) sides have to adjust their goals to new conditions. There are likely to be actors who will not easily accommodate to this turn of events. In the early literature, such actors were often termed “spoilers,” as their primary ambition was seen to undermine or dilute the agreements.30 Later such vocabulary has been avoided or not been seen as sufficiently precise.31 To many actors, the peace agreement is the second best outcome, compared to the original hope for a decisive victory. These actors may not necessarily be happy about the post-conflict situations and may yearn for an opportunity to continue the battle until the “root cause” of the conflict has been removed. To have them also participate in a conscious effort of peacebuilding aimed at preventing exactly this may not be without problems. This means that peacebuilding is not only an effort to prevent war; it also aims at keeping actors from winning, at least by military means. In fact, building the rules of conduct, including for political change, is one of the chief goals of peacebuilding. Thus it is not surprising to find that postwar situations are conflict-ridden. Perhaps the best one can hope for is that all the actors begin to see their disagreements as political rivalries rather than military battles, and that the previous war is replaced by mutually regulated ways of continuing the conflict. Reformulating a famous edict of Carl von Clausewitz, in these circumstances peace becomes the continuation of war by other means. That in itself may prevent future wars, if the “peace” that is built is reasonably successful, and meets certain quality standards.32 This is also the motto of this book. Instead of Thomas Hobbes’ “bellum 30 Stedman, Stephen J. 1997. ‘Spoiler Problems in Peace Processes’, International Security, 22 (2): 5–53 and Stedman, Stephen J. 1998. ‘Conflict Prevention as Strategic Interaction: The Spoiler Problem and the Case of Rwanda’, in Peter Wallensteen (ed.), Preventing Violent Conflicts, Uppsala: Department of Peace and Conflict Research, pp. 67–86. 31 Höglund, Kristine, 2008. Peace Negotiations in the Shadow of Violence. Leiden: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers. 32 Clausewitz, Carl von [1832], 1984. On War. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press.

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Peacebuilding: A Conceptual History

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omnium contra omnes” or “the war of all against war” which necessitates one centralized power to achieve peace, the present work points to a way of achieving everybody’s peace with everybody, or pax omnium inter omnes.33

21.3

Victory, World Order, and Quality Peace

The joint efforts of building peace from a peace agreement in an internal conflict differ markedly from what is likely to happen after a victory. Victory means that one side takes power with armed action, imposes its preferred policy, rewards its supporters and, often, does not deal with the followers of the opponents in an integrative way. Their fate may in fact be severe. As the war is a struggle over power, and as one side wins, it means this side is in a superior position and believes it is able to impose whatever policy change it wants. It is also a radically different outcome for the international community. The external allies of a victorious side are likely to celebrate; they now expect some “return” on their “investment.” The international friends of the losers are likely to lose more than a cause: They end up in an uneasy relationship to the victors (be they the incumbent regime that has defeated a rebel movement, or a rebel movement that has taken over control of the country, or a government that has prevailed in an inter-state confrontation). Victory, in that way, is unsettling for a series of relationships. In fact, much peacemaking and peacebuilding may stem from exactly this fact: It may appear “better” for regional or international order if nobody wins a protracted and costly war. This was a logic that existed during the Cold War, when East and West could sustain conflicts in Afghanistan, in Angola, between Iran and Iraq, in Central America, and in Indochina with this ambition. It was more important to deny the other side a victory than ending the war. The result was devastating for the countries concerned. It was also a cynical approach to conflict, life, and liberty.34 In times when such major power strategic concerns are less significant, there may be a preference for having wars end in negotiations stemming from a perceived stalemate. Nevertheless, victories do occur. It is important to analyze how the international community deals with them. We would expect the approach to be different from outcomes building on a peace agreement. The pattern of victory and the following 33

Hobbes, Thomas [1651], 1991. Leviathan, Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, rephrased in Wallensteen, Peter 2008a. ‘Global Governance and the Future of United Nations’, in Hettne, Björn (ed) 2008, Human Values and Global Governance. Studies in Development, Security and Culture, Vol. 2, Palgrave-Macmillan, pp. 198–219. 34 There is a danger of cynicism in this approach. The parties themselves may well see their causes as just and defensible. However, if the international approach is to stop the war with peaceful means (arms embargoes, peacekeeping, etc.) it may be beneficial for both sides. In the Iran–Iraq War, however, major powers for a long time seem to prefer to have both sides destroy one another. The danger of this approach is evident, particularly as one side in the end may have perceived itself as victorious and embarked on new adventures (Iraq), while the other may have seen the need for nuclear development (Iran).

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consolidation period vary in interesting ways. Victories may, in fact, be more diverse than peacebuilding efforts. A quick overview demonstrates this: – In the post-Cold War era one of the first victories was the one in Ethiopia and Eritrea, where the rebels took over and divided the country into two states (1991). Thus the war was followed by two processes of consolidation, or even nationbuilding. But then there was a war again, between the same actors, but this time both being states (1998–2000). – In Afghanistan, the Pakistan-supported Taliban rebels won in 1996, imposed their rule, allowed al-Qaeda to take up a base, and thus came into conflict with the United States, particularly after September 11, 2001. The regime was defeated by the internationally assisted Northern Alliance in late 2001. A protracted period of a different form of victory consolidation followed, as did a renewed conflict with regrouped Taliban fighters. – The United States occupied Iraq in 2003 in an inter-state war that removed the government and captured the leader, Saddam Hussein, who was hanged some years later. The United States withdrew its regular troops by 2010, after a national government had been formed under a semblance of democratic procedures, in a period of war and victory consolidation. By 2014 tensions had again resulted in an intensified challenge from a new rebel group, ISIS, based in the estranged Sunni communities of both Iraq and Syria. ISIS simultaneously challenged two governments and also the two states. It led to renewed commitments to Iraq from Western and Arab states. – In Sri Lanka the government defeated the Tamil Tiger rebels in 2009, thus preventing the creation of a separate Tamil state in parts of the island. The leader was killed and an uncertain period followed for the sizable Tamil minority population. The government did not allow international human rights investigations. – The winner of the presidential elections in Côte d’Ivoire won a short armed conflict in 2011 to be able to take up his seat. The captured predecessor was sent to the International Criminal Court in The Hague and a period of victory consolidation followed. – In August 2011 rebels drove Muammar Gadaffi from the capital and, in effect, from power in Libya. Gadaffi was killed in October. A first election took place in 2012, consolidating the victory but still not bringing stability to the country. After a couple of years the country appeared fragmented with different groups controlling different parts, with no effective central government. The review demonstrates that victories have been consolidated by local allies taking over power from the international intervener. However, this will affect the legitimacy of the new power holders (for instance, in present-day Afghanistan, Iraq, Côte d’Ivoire, and Libya). The consolidation process seems to require internal legitimacy, which is less of a challenge, one might surmise, in a victory based on internal resources (as exemplified by Ethiopia and Eritrea after 1991 and Sri Lanka after 2009). Even so, international efforts may have been crucial for many of these outcomes (delivery of weapons, finding exits for the incumbent, etc.).

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Victory, World Order, and Quality Peace

429

It is remarkable to note that in much of the peacebuilding literature, the victory option has rarely been considered explicitly.35 “Victory” may not even be listed in the book index. However, victory is the most obvious alternative to peacebuilding. It poses the question if the peace approach is a “better” option in terms of making quality peace. Obviously the international community often believes so, as it engages itself to find peace agreements. But we have already seen some examples of internationally supported victories. Critics of international peacebuilding practice may still not argue for a victorious outcome. The critics may prefer to see a shift in peacebuilding strategies from one set of measures to another, where a basic stalemate is maintained or gradually evaporates. Thus a particularly pertinent question for this book is this issue, which can be put in the following way: Is internationally supported peacebuilding more effective in building quality peace than the consolidation of victory by one side? This means setting the marks very high for strategies of peacebuilding as well as victory consolidation. We would expect that the negotiated ending to a war would result in a different set of postwar actions by governments and the international community than the military victory. Thus peacebuilding can be juxtaposed to victory consolidation. In the study of inter-state conflicts, victory is a more typical concern, and how it affects the period after war. Thus there is more to build on in this regard, although developments are often understood in terms of distribution of power, and rarely with regard to peacebuilding aspects. The connection to world order is, however, often close.36 This leads us to a number of additional assertions. First, are the strategies applied in peacebuilding strikingly different from those used in victory consolidation? Second, is it possible to specify which strategies are the more effective in preventing recurrence of war? Third, will the strategies result in relations that meet the three criteria of quality peace—that is, dignity, security, and predictability? However, this also has to be seen in the larger international context and whether it is conducive to the prevention of war recurrence or not, making the existing world order an important dimension. This means that we may now add a fourth question: Does it matter under which historical period (or order) the war ending takes place? We will explore this in the following section.

35

Toft is probably the most recent author demonstrating the importance of victory (Toft, Monica 2010a. ‘Ending Civil Wars: A Case for Rebel Victory?’ International Security 34 (4): 7–36 and Toft, Monica Duffy 2010b. Securing the Peace. The Durable Settlement of Civil Wars. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. We will return to her work in Chapter 2. 36 An insightful example is Ikenberry, G. John 2001. After Victory: Institutions, Strategic Restraint, and the Rebuilding of Order after Major War. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. Oddly, Ikenberry refrains from defining victory. However, he has much to say, for instance, on types of order, not the least the “constitutional” order that is relevant in this context (e.g., in his second chapter). The classic writer on this topic, Hedley Bull defines “order” very carefully, but has little to say about “victory.” His notion of “international society” is relevant, however. Bull, Hedley with Andrew Hurrell 2002. The Anarchical Society. A Study of Order in World Politics. Fourth Edition. New York: Colombia University Press.

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As can be seen in book Chap. 2, there is considerable academic discussion on peacebuilding, not the least whether the efforts by the international community can be seen as “liberal” or not, and what the alternatives could be (Richmond 2006, Paris 2010, Joshi et al. 2014).37 For the most part, peacebuilding concerns have been central only in the post-Cold War period. Thus there is a similarity in that this discussion refers to the same, particular world conditions or, as we would like to label it here, world order. It is expressed well in the formulation “liberal” peacebuilding. During the post-Cold War period there has been a predominance of liberal thinking in international affairs in general. The international market forces have been unleashed in an unprecedented manner, not least with the new market opportunities in formerly “closed” parts of the world, such as Russia, China, India, and South America, as well as parts of Africa. Investments for exports have also resulted in domestic economic growth but, at the same time, global and local inequalities have increased. There is also an increase in the number of democracies, and multiparty politics have gradually become the international norm for internal affairs. Particularly important in this context, there has been a concern for humanitarian conditions in situations of war, repression, and genocide. The perspective on war and the political use of violence in general has changed. Thus it also seems important to pay attention to the type of world order. This relates particularly to the relationships between major powers and their impact on the national or local conflicts. We will introduce this global perspective in Chaps. 6 and 7, to demonstrate the complexities in which quality peace is being constructed. What happens on the ground in one conflict will be impacted by the surrounding world and, to a more limited extent, will also have an impact on global developments. The most important issue, then, is to ask what types of world order there are and what they mean for the building of quality peace. For the most part these questions, as well as the others mentioned in this chapter, will be addressed by studying the literature to ascertain the state of the art of the discipline. However, some of the questions require original work that will also be included in this volume.

21.4

Perspectives on Peace After War

The experience of wars and peacebuilding efforts since 1989 has sparked a vast scholarly and policy-oriented debate. The investments in peacebuilding have been heavy, and one may legitimately ask if the taxpayers footing the bills have received value for their money. Why should Swedes maintain international efforts in Liberia 37 Richmond, Oliver P. 2006. ‘The problem of peace: Understanding the ‘liberal peace’.’ Conflict, Security and Development, 6 (3): 291–314, Paris, Roland 2010. ‘Saving Liberal Peacebuilding’. Review of International Studies, 35, 337–365, Joshi, Madhav, Sung Yong Lee and Roger Mac Ginty, Roger 2014. Just how liberal is the liberal peace? International Peacekeeping, 21(3): 364– 389.

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Perspectives on Peace After War

431

or Americans support peace agreements in Burundi? If the efforts succeed it may suffice but the reports are many on the breakdown of peace and the restart of conflicts. Thus the “investments” seem lost. Indeed there is truth in such assertions. A number of peace agreements have failed and wars do reignite. It may suggest that the peacemaking task was “hopeless” from the beginning. In a destructive and protracted war the chance of peace is often worth the effort and the price. But more likely the question will be asked if the “right” strategies were used, and the errors are likely to be highlighted. Some voices, however, would advocate nonintervention or even intervention on a particular side to contribute to victory and, hopefully, a lasting peace. Thus the debate becomes intense, and has generated at least three basic perspectives on peacebuilding in literature and practice. Only some of them bring in the issue of victory and victory consolidation. Let us first, however, note the lack of the systematic collection of information on the postwar conditions that can be seen in the literature. The Uppsala Conflict Data Program (UCDP) contains a wealth of information on conflict dynamics, including the resort to negotiations and the conclusion of peace agreements. Some attention is also given to analysis of the peace agreements (Harbom et al. 2006, Högbladh 2006, Högbladh 2012).38 However, the deeper analysis will require additional information on the implementation of the agreements. This is the task that the Kroc Institute’s Peace Accord Matrix (PAM) has set out to do, by including a large set of peace agreements and some fifty variables on issues addressed in these agreements, and by following them for a period of ten years.39 This is going to be a most significant tool for the analysis of peacebuilding and quality peace. In doing so, the analysis can build on the three perspectives, but also bring them together, as they may not be entirely contradictory. The differences may be more a matter of emphasis. First, there is research based on the idea that the fighting sides are rational actors making deliberate, calculated decisions to militarize a conflict that may otherwise continue on an unarmed, nonviolent level. A war is expected to determine a distribution of power between the belligerents. As many wars since the end of the Cold War have been protracted, it means that the parties arrive at situations that they had not anticipated, and so they have to negotiate with the opposing side. Numerous post-conflict situations, in other words, are in an uneasy balance between groups that may still have reasons to restart the conflict at a moment in time which is conducive for victory. Peacebuilding strategies emerging from such considerations have to focus on finding ways in which former belligerents are unable to restart the Harbom, Lotta, Stina Högbladh and Peter Wallensteen 2006. “Armed Conflict and Peace Agreements.” Journal of Peace Research 43 (5): 617–631, Högbladh, Stina 2006. “Finding a Peace that Will last – Examining Peace Processes and Peace Agreements.” Paper presented at the Annual ISA Convention, San Diego, California, March; Högbladh, Stina 2012. “Peace Agreements 1975–2011 – Updating the UCDP Peace Agreement Dataset,” in Pettersson Therése and Lotta Themnér (eds.), 2012, States in Armed Conflict 2011, Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research, pp. 39–56. 39 Joshi and Darby 2013. 38

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conflict. This is most appropriately done through institutional change. New societal structures are at the same time strong enough to prevent a new outbreak of war and valuable enough for the former belligerents to give them the opportunity they need to pursue their goals, without starting the war again. This first strand of research deals with policies for institutional change and development. Which are the strategies that would enhance the role of state structures and find an agreeable way of representation and making the state capable of effective action? The construction of state machinery and democratically inspired forms of government is central to this. The idea is that actors will always have choices and only when the strength of the structures are such that they cannot break out will they also remain within the framework: The costs of challenging the existing structures will be greater than the costs of starting a new war. If all (or most) actors benefit from the new institutional arrangements, then there is less incentive for challenging them, not the least as the actors may fear to become more isolated and marginalized. This is basic in arguments such as the “institutionalization before liberalism” that has been advocated by Roland Paris, building on his analysis of a set of peacebuilding experiences in the 1990s. His seminal work, At War’s End, will thus have to be scrutinized in some detail in the following chapter, where a reanalysis of his work yields interesting results. This is peacebuilding as institution building—finding checks and balances, rule of law, and ways of representation, at some stage leading to democracy. The same, of course, would apply to wars that end in victory. Also in this case there is a need for institution reform, legal systems, possibly also elements of democracy. This leads us to a second perspective that deals with conflict dynamics itself. A trigger to conflicts is the insecurity they generate, as outlined earlier in this chapter. Conflicts are formed by actors with incompatible goals and with sufficient resources to create their own military means (building small or large armies, creating bases, purchasing of arms) to pursue their goals. The disbanding of such assets is often a first element in peacebuilding strategies and probably also in victory consolidation. In a post-civil war situation, for instance, the government has been part of the conflict. Rebels rose against that government for a particular reason. They are not likely to trust those institutions unless they are in (sufficient) control of them, in some form of power sharing, representation, or other way. The core of most conflict is a security dilemma. Actors gain support to organize conflicts, not just by intimidating people, but also by building on an idea of defending one group against another. Intimidation, in fact, can be selective, to achieve just that. Fear of others sparks defensive measures that the others may perceive as preparations for conflict, and thus take similar measures to protect themselves. Relationships can deteriorate quickly. The central issue in this perspective is for peacebuilding to find ways to deal with the underlying security concerns. That not only includes the disarming of groups or giving their leaders influence in society. It also has to do with solving some underlying dynamics of conflict, creating new frameworks for viewing the relationships in the future. It may, in fact, mean empowering local leadership to take responsibility, not reducing

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Perspectives on Peace After War

433

the role of such leadership. This is peacebuilding through the creation of systems that enhance security in ways that yields local control, dignity, and predictability. A third line of thought emphasizes economic structures and issues of development. It builds on the idea that the conflicts largely start from economic considerations, sometimes captured in the word “greed” rather than “grievance,” although the debate now has moved beyond that simple dichotomy.40 In his best-selling 2007 book The Bottom Billion, Paul Collier has popularized economic concerns and “conflict traps” in which countries may end up. A complex interplay of factors— such as conflicts, natural resources, geographical features, and bad governance— tends to trap countries into continuous repetition of conflict. This results in a distortion of societies away from the needs of the majority to meet only the desires of the few. Collier integrates greed with grievance. The net result is his observation that approximately one billion people are located in around fifty countries which are stagnating, while other parts of the world have seen economic growth during an extended period of time. Thus creating the social and political conditions for sustained economic growth, will, in Collier’s perspective, be a necessary approach. Transparency, national control over revenues, and use of resources in a responsible way are all ingredients in such an economy-building policy. One may say that the creation of political leadership that is self-confident enough to engage in the world market for the benefit of national development is what is required. This perspective has less to say on institutional constraints on belligerents or finding confidence-building measures. It is more an argument that economic growth under particular conditions will generate satisfaction for a sufficient number of actors for them not to restart a conflict. It certainly gives a role to the international community, particularly in the field of security provision, something we will return to below. It does not neglect the aspect of democracy, but points to its weaknesses.41 Although some economists have objected to such argument, notably William Easterly (2006), this is more on the basis of critique of development aid through governments rather than questioning the needs for economic policies that reduce the danger of another war.42 By reducing the strength of government, Easterly argues, and in a corresponding way increasing the role of private, “homegrown” initiatives —finding the entrepreneurs—economic growth can be generated. This is probably true, but it does not help us to know what to do to contain the warlords that still may be around. Indeed many warlords are happy to portray themselves as entrepreneurs, and they do have some of the same features: taking risk, creating networks, and generating income, but often far outside the boundaries of morality and legality. The problem is who gains from what kind of investment. The dilemma, in other words, is that there is a need for a stronger state at the same time that there is a need

40 Ballentine, Karen and Jake Sherman, 2003. The Political Economy of Armed Conflict: Beyond Greed and Grievance. New York: International Peace Academy. 41 Collier, Paul 2009, Wars, Guns and Votes. Democracy in Dangerous Places, Harper Perennial (paperback). 42 Easterly, William 2006. The White Man’s Burden. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.

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for freedom for the entrepreneurs. Finding the balance that will generate both is the real problem. Together the work of Collier, Easterly, and others provides us with a third perspective: peace through economy building, finding the routes to a self-sustainable economy that generate opportunity for a life in security and dignity. In fact, to these political economists, the outcome of the war is less of a concern. Whether the policies are pursued as peacebuilding or victory consolidation does not matter. The important dimension is the construction of a functioning postwar economy. As mentioned, the three perspectives are not contradictory. For instance, Collier concludes that governments in the Bottom Billion countries are incapable as well as unwilling to act in a nonpartisan way. Thus an international presence for a long period of time is necessary: “Both sending and recipient governments should expect this presence to last for around a decade and must commit to it”.43 This is a dramatic conclusion and not likely to be popular on either side. But it demonstrates that institution-building is part of the equation, as are international guarantees for security. However, we do not know how this works when we deal with victory consolidation. An example will help to illustrate the arguments. The international community has been engaged for nearly two decades in Bosnia-Herzegovina. Indeed, violence has ceased; the actors act under the rules agreed in the Dayton Accord from 1995. The international presence has been heavy. The armies of the parties have been reduced. An infusion of outside capital has led to reconstruction and economic gains. Still, it appears to be a dependent growth. It rests on the continued international presence and the willingness of donor countries to continue international support. Recent studies show that the feelings of insecurity among the groups have not been reduced. The social, cultural, and political distances between them remain considerable. The three constituent national identities have been cemented rather than dissolved. The de facto separation imposed by the war has continued to predominate in the postwar lives of the population. There is no common understanding of what the war was all about. There appears to be only one point of convergence: All groups object to the way the international control has been exerted. Certainly there are some variations, but the consensus is striking (Kostic 2007).44 These findings provide a dramatic challenge to the post-conflict peacebuilding strategies. Bosnia-Herzegovina, after all, is a prime example of international achievements. The war was stopped in 1995 after three years. An agreement was worked out by the international actors, mostly the United States. American troops were in place for a period. The EU built an entire program for the integration of former Yugoslav countries into the Union. The costs for the non-war situation are staggering. Still the world hesitates: Can it withdraw or will that result in renewed fighting? How to transcend the security dilemma in such a situation?

43

Collier, Paul 2007. The Bottom Billion. Oxford University Press, p. 177. Kostić, Roland. 2007. Ambivalent Peace: External Peacebuilding, Threatened Identity and Reconciliation in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Ph.D. Diss. Uppsala University.

44

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Interestingly Collier in his later writing makes this into an important point. The provision of security is necessary, even in the form of a guarantee against coups, for instance, to democratically elected heads of state (Collier 2009).45 This is very much in line with this book. This means that the postwar setting can be seen from three perspectives: strategies for institution-building, security-building, and economy-building. Although this categorization is drawn from the literature on peacebuilding, it largely also applies to victory consolidation. In security building, the key is the relationship between winners and vanquished, a dynamic where the conditions after a war might be challenged. Thus, the dimensions of quality peace will be of assistance in formulating the conditions for preventing the recurrence of war, whether the war ended through a negotiated settlement or victory.

45

Collier (2009).

Chapter 22

Conditions for Quality Peace: A Regional Approach Peter Wallensteen

Abstract This is partly an original text for this volume, expanding on a regional comparison done in 2015. Peter Wallensteen specifies what “quality peace” entails, connects that to available studies of democratic peace as well as territorial peace, and then compares the post-1945 history of Western Europe to the one of East Asia. One point is that the settlement of territorial disputes seems to precede the development of qualitative regional cooperation.

22.1

Introducing Quality Peace

Quality peace means the creation of postwar conditions that make the inhabitants of a society (be it an area, a country, a region, a continents or a planet) secure in life and dignity now and for the foreseeable future.1 This form of peace can be observed on different levels in the international society, i.e. in the planet as a whole but also in an area (within a country), on a country level (a state), as well as larger entities such as regions and continents shaped by geographic forms and seismic forces. An international region constitutes one of them and the world can be studied in geographical zones.2 Sometimes regions identify themselves as such, notably the Nordic countries seeing themselves interacting as part of a Nordic region, Southern African states organizing into one regional body, SADC (Southern African Development Council) etc. Regions can also be perceived from the outside, but still not be organized. East Asia has no separate regional body or identity. It appears only as a geographical or physical separation. Thus, regional identities vary and areas have different experiences as well as interests in being building blocks for

This chapter expands on a theme initiated in my article “Comparing Conditions for Quality Peace: Contemporary East Asia v. Post-War Western Europe” published in International Security Studies, Social Sciences Academic Press (China), Vol. 1. No 1. Summer 2015, pp. 59–76. Reproduced with permission. 2 Peter Wallensteen 2015. Quality Peace. Peacebuilding, Victory and World Order, Oxford University Press, chapter 1, reproduced in this volume as Chapter 21. It leaves the issue of regional conflict complexes for further analysis, as noted in Chapters 5, 6 and 7 of that book. 1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_22

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global cooperation. The European Union clearly embraces the idea that they are on such a path; other regional organizations have more limited ambitions. Even for global associations, however, regional considerations are important. The UN General Assembly uses geographical belonging as one criterion for electing new members to the Security Council. There is even a formula for how many countries should come from which region.3 However, the vote is not done on that basis. Instead all countries participate, thus expressing that the UN is a global body, not a federation or associations of regions. Here it is asked if the criteria for quality peace are applicable on a regional level? Peace is not simply a question of one area being without war for a period of time. It is a matter of maintaining conditions that do not produce war in the first place or, as some form of ‘peace’ has failed previously, not repeating the same failures. These are historical experiences suggesting that ‘peace’ did not meet the quality standards of ‘peace’. Specific postwar circumstances constitute the quality of peace. The question to be answered is if postwar conditions will be able to handle the strains in a region and thus not see it relapse into the same conflict, or the initiation of another conflict? When that question can be answered in the affirmative, there is “quality peace”. Otherwise it is simply a postwar period, or, even worse, an interwar period. Whether the war ends in victory (resulting in the consolidation of victory) or a joint peacebuilding process (after a peace agreement) the security issue remains. Actors may be insecure and thus the war may be reignited either as an offensive or defensive move to enhance one party’s security in relation to another. The respect of the other side and that side’s right to live a secure existence is a central aspect of peacebuilding. This is the point where ‘dignity’ enters: Does the postwar situation include respect of the equal rights of the opponent, in commitment and in practices? Without a positive response to this question, the dynamics of insecurity continue to operate and may at any moment turn a ‘normal’ dispute into an escalating conflict and sometimes a war. A key issue in peacebuilding and victory consolidation, as a consequence, has to be the ability of the postwar situation to reassure the opposing sides of their equal rights, or respect for their dignity. This state of affairs means that the former warring parties are secure, respect each other and expect this to be a lasting condition. The known factors that generate such quality peace can be used also to assess the situation of a regional conflict complex. That makes possible comparisons, as will be pursued here, between Western and Eastern European experience, East Asia and some other regions. The focus is the conditions since the end of the Second World War and the post-Cold War period.

For more on this, see Wallensteen, Peter 1994. “Representing the World. A Security Council for the 21st Century,“ Security Dialogue Vol. 25 (1): 63–75. This article is included in the present volume as Chapter 12. 3

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Quality Peace in the Regional Setting

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Quality Peace in the Regional Setting

The notion of a regional conflict complex is a fruitful point of departure. Conflicts between states as well as inside a country will affect the neighbors. There is a risk the conflict will go beyond the parties and cross the borders, for example, through alliances, external interventions and general disruption of local economies. Thus, serious events in one country could create instability for a whole set of countries and actors. This has been explored with the concept of regional conflict complex. With the use of UCDP conflict data 16 such complexes were identified in the 1990s. Twenty years later these regional conflict complexes are still relevant and distinct.4 An initial question is how the regional conflict complexes fared 20 years later? Interestingly, some of these regions have developed their own organizations, as a step towards ending conflict and directing resources to economic development. Some have borrowed heavily from the EU experience and most of them work in ways parallel to the UN system, but with local adaptations.5 It can also be observed that there were fewer wars, but were there also trends in the direction of quality peace? An overview shows that few have developed as could be hoped. Of the 16 regional complexes none have moved closer to quality peace. Southeast Europe and the Balkans may be the closest, with a number of EU initiatives to create a new regional order. The Stability Pact was such approach, replaced in 2008 by a Regional Cooperation Council. Largely the emphasis has been on economics, free trade and international mobility. At the heart of these commitments has been a promise of membership for the participating countries in the EU. This might actually work as a particularly attractive positive sanction, i.e. reward for “good behavior”. But after the financial crises 2008–09, the migration crisis of 2015 and the Brexit process 2018–19 EU’s absorption capacity has been stretched. The COVID-19 crisis of 2020 has further damaged membership prospects. Not only that: extra-regional actors have been working hard against this prospect. Typically this has been the position of Russia under President Putin, perhaps shared by China, although less in the open. In fact, Russia has had its own project of creating regional cooperation, trying to entice countries in the Balkans as well as those further east. For instance, whether Ukraine should join the Russia-powered Euro-Asian Economic Union or the Eastern Partnership promoted by EU was central to the upheavals in Ukraine 2014. The European orientation came to dominate, but the tensions also brought a (temporary) division of the country, with separatists supported by Russia taking control of Eastern parts of the country, after

Wallensteen Peter and Margareta Sollenberg, 1998. “Armed Conflict and Regional Conflict Complexes, 1989–1997,” Journal of Peace Research, 35 (1998): 593–606. 5 See Peter Wallensteen and Anders Bjurner (eds). Regional Organizations in Peacemaking. Challengers to the UN? London: Routledge, 2015. Chapter 13 in this volume gives a summary of the arguments. 4

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Russia had annexed Crimea. This has become an addition to a regional conflict complex, which earlier focused on the Balkans only. Another such complex is the one over Palestine and the trajectory is similar. Promising initiatives arising from the Oslo process of the 1990s have not been pursued or supported. For more than 20 years no new substantial peace agreement has been concluded: 1999 was the most recent one. The conditions in Israel have not been as optimal as they were in the 1990s. Partly, it is a matter of leadership where some Israeli Prime Ministers, notably Ariel Sharon and Benjamin Netanyahu, have had other agendas. There is also the construction of the wall that has reduced personal contacts, and there is the rise of terrorism. Furthermore the severe split within the Palestinian community between al-Fatah and Hamas has made the Palestinian side less capable to negotiate and commit to an agreement. Interestingly, however, the Arab representation in Knesset has become an important new factor. Regional quality peace is far away. A promising development may be found in the Horn of Africa, associated with the rise to power of Abiy Ahmed Ali, Nobel Peace Prize laureate in 2019. It has reduced tensions between Ethiopia and Eritrea, and led to a committed support for peace efforts in Somalia, Sudan and South Sudan. But quality peace is not near, and much may be dependent on one leader. There are similar beginnings, for instance, in the Sahel area, with a joint effort fighting against IS affiliates and other groups. Similarly the complex termed South Asia, West may see the specter of a US withdrawal from Afghanistan, as agreed in the accord in Doha, Qatar, in February 2020. It may result in new opportunities, but also has the potential of new human disasters (particularly if the Taliban gets into power and again forces women out of public life and academic education). If we take this together, the regions with most efforts to end regional conflict complexes in the Global South through regional cooperation and regional organizations can be found in Africa. It contrasts the situation for instance in the many and intertwined conflict complexes in the Middle East.6 In the East Asian Peace project (EAP) these issues were discussed with respect to the regional conflict complexes in East Asia: those around the Korean peninsula and those pertaining to South East Asia. They are an interesting comparison, as ASEAN is a respected regional organization for South East Asia, while North East Asia has nothing that corresponds to this. Rather the opposite, the few attempts at developing a peaceful way of organizing the region have quickly derailed. The tensions have persisted for more than seven decades. The EAP project built on the fact that there have been no wars since 1980 – a uniquely long period for this region without major bloodshed from armed conflicts.7 This can be explained in historical

This comparison is pursued by Peter Wallensteen and Stina Högbladh, 2020 “Peace Agreements in the Middle East: A Regional Challenge to Mediation” in Ibrahim Fraihat and Isak Svensson (eds). Mediation in the Arab World, forthcoming. 7 Tønnesson, Stein, Erik Melander, Elin Bjarnegård, Isak Svensson and Susanne Schaftenaar 2013. ”The fragile peace in East and South East Asia,” SIPRI Yearbook 2013, chapter 1. II. 6

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terms or in comparison with other regions.8 A historically oriented regional comparison might yield interesting, novel insights. It may also give rise to different models for regional orders, but that is a different matter.9 The question arises if the notion of “quality peace” would be a way to capture the post-war situations within and between states. This means focusing on dignity, security and predictability. The most innovative and practical contribution to such ideas in modern times is the case of Western European cooperation. Which factors were important in transforming this region from one of constant war and conflict to one of peaceful cooperation? Are there lessons to be learned for East Asia and other regions?10 Let us pursue this line of inquiry here.

22.3

Challenges from Recent History

East Asia, Western Europe and Eastern Europe (from East Germany to the Caucasus) were three regions at the center of the conflagrations of the Second World War. A most obvious factor for assessing quality peace in these regions is the outcome of the Second World War. There are significant variations that have to be included in the discussion. For Europe, factors of importance are the defeat of the Axis country, Germany and Italy, as well as the exhaustion of two of the victors, the United Kingdom and France. The victorious states in the region were geographically peripheral to its central area: The Soviet Union and the United States. Thus, it was not a given that the outcome after the war would lead to regional cooperation. The traditional path was one of victory consolidation at the expense of the vanquished. Europe, for once, did not follow that path, at least not in the Western parts of the continent. Instead there was a focus on Idealpolitik (democracy) and Kapitalpolitik (economic integration). More than 70 years have passed without military threats among the former belligerents in Western Europe. Eastern Europe saw a very different trajectory, becoming the outer security perimeter for the Soviet Union, by being forcefully incorporated into the Soviet block. That was more in line with traditional

8

Ringmar, Erik 2012. Performing International Systems: Two East-Asian Alternatives to the Westphalian Order, International Organization, 66 (2): 1–25. 9 Van der Putten, Frans-Paul 2013. Towards a Pacific Community? The United States and Regional Leadership in East Asia, Journal of Global Policy and Governance, 2: 223–232. For more general treatments of this problem see Morgan, Patrick M 1999 ‘Regional Security Complexes and Regional Order,’ in David A. Lake and Patrick M. Morgan (eds) Regional Orders: Building Security in a New World, State College: Pennsylvania State University Press. 10 Here the focus is on the region as a whole not just one particular organization, i.e. the European Union. For a discussion on the meaning of ‘region’ as well as the role of regional organizations, see Wallensteen and Bjurner 2015.

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security doctrines, Realpolitik (power thinking) and Geopolitik (territorial control) combined. The regional cooperation in Western Europe, thus, is a distinctive experience for one part of this continent. On many counts, East Asia had experiences similar to those of Europe: the challenger, Japan, was defeated; and China, nominally among the victors, was not able to play a regional role for years. Previously peripheral actors (geographically and politically) became the dominants also here: the United States and the Soviet Union. The entire region was devastated and faced equally demanding conditions of reconstruction, as in Europe. There are interesting parallels and, thus, it should be possible to draw inferences from the European experience to the East Asia and other regions. As no region followed a path parallel to Western European peacebuilding efforts the comparison has the potential for important observations. There are two incompatibilities that are typical in armed conflicts and wars: territorial concerns and governmental control. Both these issues have the potential of being framed as incompatibilities: only one actor can control a particular piece of territory and only one actor can have the ultimate power in a society. At least this is how the issues are portrayed by leading actors. Pushing these incompatibilities to be as favorable as possible for an actor also becomes the goals for which resources are amassed to make war. Interestingly, these are also the two issues that have been studied for their potential to build peace, at least among states: the notions of territorial peace and democratic peace.11 Thus, there is systematic research on which to base the following analysis. Let us present each of these notions and discuss their application to Europe, East Asia and some other regions.

22.4

Territorial Peace

22.4.1 General Findings With respect to territory, researchers at the University of Illinois, particularly John A. Vasquez, have convincingly demonstrated the importance of territorial disputes in the sequences of events and actions that lead to inter-state war (Vasquez 1995; Vasquez/Henehan 2001; Senese/Vasquez 2008). In additional work along these lines, Douglas Gibler and Jaroslav Tir show that peaceful transfers of territory actually impacts on demilitarization and democracy, thus even suggesting that the settlement of territorial disputes is more important as a first step towards peace than is democracy. The authors demonstrate with data on relations between states (dyadic level) that solutions to territorial disputes actually precede the creation of 11

These two incompatibilities are also central to the data collection of the Uppsala Conflict Data Program. For the rationale, see for instance Peter Wallensteen 2019. Understanding Conflict Resolution. Fifth edition, London: Sage. A project led by Johan Brosché and Ralph Sundberg at the Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University, pursues a deeper analysis of these incompatibilities.

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democratic institutions and peaceful relations between states. In their words, this “helps demonstrate that both democracy and peace in a dyad may be a function of settling territorial threats to the state” (Gibler/Tir 2010). Moving on from this Gibler has proposed the concept of the “territorial peace” to be equally powerful an explanation as the “democratic peace” for the absence of war or militarized disputes between states (Gibler 2012). The mechanism he suggests is that territorial disputes add to tensions and increase the likelihood that disputes between states will escalate to war. Interstate conflicts have a strong impact on domestic politics. They require inordinate attention and political resources. To the decision-makers the integrity of the state may appear threatened through incursions or demands relating to the state’s borders. Thus, a security dilemma can be described, nationalism and patriotism invoked, and resources amassed for the potential of war. To this argumentation can be added that borders may be more important today than ever before. The building of a welfare state requires close control over the borders, for instance, separating who is entitled to government services and who is not. Also for this reason it is easier to generate domestic consensus on border protection as an essential state activity. In Europe and the USA, border fences have been built in order to prevent unwanted immigration.12 If the borders are unsettled this forces a country to invest in armed forces, engage in military production, trade and procurement. It has to devote considerably public efforts to explain its policies to domestic and international audiences. It may affect the state’s ability to develop its civilian economy. Constant external threats may generate fear hampering the development of a more open society. Thus, Gibler concludes that territorial disputes can be detrimental to the growth of democracy in a society.

22.4.2 Territorial Peace in Europe These arguments and general findings have a particular ring, when observing European history for the past 200 years. The major states in Western and Central Europe were geographically very close to one another; even sharing borders or separated by smaller states (some deliberately designed as buffer zones, notably Belgium). The proximity of major powers may generate concerns over actions by the other side, as they may have immediate repercussions across the border. If there are, on top of this, territorial grievances, relations can easily become complicated. Also, history tells us that wars are largely fought between neighbors, not the least shown in factor analysis of large set of data by Bruce Russett already in the 1960s (Russett 1967).

12

The 2015 migration crisis in Europe reinforced that nationalist sentiments and led to stricter border controls. Donald Trump used the building of a wall against migration from Mexico in his rhetoric in US presidential elections 2016 and construction on this project was started in 2019.

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The major powers in Europe, notably Germany, Austria-Hungary, France and Russia were all geographically close and exhibited considerable territorial rivalry during the 19th century. This was true for Germany and France, where the issue of Alsace-Loraine remained a wound around which conflict energy was generated, notably in alliance networks and military preparations. The aftermath of the First World War was a period that did not deal with this in a forward-looking way. Germany was defeated, and the French leaders wanted to demonstrate this to the fullest extent. Thus, the Versailles Treaty used territories that had belonged to the German and Austrian Empires to create new states. It was meant to be part of a new order where the vanquished states, particularly Germany, would not be able to return as a challenger. Surrounding Germany with smaller states with a vested interest in the protection of their independence, would give them incentives to become members of alliances that balanced Germany. Not unexpectedly, this Geopolitik theory and its application actually provided for a host of territorial disputes that a weak international system had to deal with during the 1920s and 1930s. There were many innovative solutions in the 1920s. These were topics in which the League of Nations could function as intended.13 However, issues that seemed settled quickly reemerged and became acute with the advent of a revisionist regime. Hitler’s rise to power in Germany meant that such solutions instead turned into sources of conflict. Typical concerns were German territories that had been handed to Czechoslovakia and Poland, and contained populations that might retain loyalties to Germany (encouraged by an expansionist Nazi Germany). In several cases, what was seen as ingenious territorial arrangements in 1919 had, within 20 years, turned into the very material that could be exploited for war. The territorial issues provided the opportunity to escalate conflicts, be arguments for a military build-up (breaking another key provision in the Treaty) and mobilize popular support. This is in line with arguments suggested by Russett (1967: 200–201): neighboring states do not fight each other because they are close, but it provides them with the issues and opportunities to do so. There seems, thus, to be a close connection between unsettled territorial issues, or even biased settlements on the one hand and, on the other hand, the likelihood of conflicts escalating into wars. This was true for the inter-war years in Western Europe. We may then ask, what was the situation in the post-World War II period? The outcome of the Second World War meant another dramatic redrawing of borders in Europe, including forced removal of populations, what we today would call ethnic cleansing. The concern, particularly for states that obtained new areas that previously had been inhabited by German nationals, was whether this would be a lasting state of affairs. Would Germany accept this? To the policy makers this seemed a central concern. This is most understandable, given the recent historical experience. There was, in particular, a difference between Western and CentralEastern Europe in this regard.

A case in point is the Åland Islands between Sweden and Finland that gained self-rule in 1921 to protect Swedish-speakers. This solution lives on, soon celebrating its 100th birthday. 13

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There were fewer and less dramatic territorial issues remaining west of Germany. The most important was the status of Saarland. It was a resource-rich area for commodities of particular significance for arms production: coal and steal. The question was whether it should be returned to Germany or not. Different solutions were suggested, including the Europeanization of the area, but when the voters had been allowed to express their preference, the territory had to be given back to Germany. Once this had been done – which happened in 1957 – there were no other territorial issues of concern in Western Europe. The timing is interesting as the founding of the European Economic Community (today’s European Union) took place in Rome one year later. The settlement of the territorial issue was prior to embarking on an ambitious project of cooperation. Later, but in a similar way, the acceptance around 1970 by Germany of its new Eastern borders brought an end to constant tensions with the countries of the Warsaw Pact. The beginning of détente can be traced to Germany’s Ostpolitik. To the Central and Eastern European countries the Helsinki Final Act of 1975 cemented their borders (that actually had been in place for thirty years) reassuring them that they could not be changed by force. Today the Helsinki agreement is mostly remembered because of its human rights provisions, but in the “territorial peace” perspective, the geographical settlements were an integral part of the solution.14 That meant that the border issues were removed from the political agenda in Europe, and other concerns took up political energy, notably matters of furthering democracy and human rights in the East, as well as political integration and economic development in the West. Particularly in Central and Eastern Europe, there was a struggle for democracy in the following fifteen years, ultimately bringing about the dissolution of the entire Soviet bloc. From this quick overview we can say that the building of democracy in the post-World War II situations in Europe started from a premise that the presently existing states were to constitute the foundations of European relations and, following the rearrangements at the end of the war, that there were to be no further border claims or revisions. We should note that the UN Charter is firmer on territorial integrity of the states than was the case for the League of Nations. This was thought to provide a stable basis for building peace among states, in line with the conclusions drawn by Senese and Vasquez that “…once borders are accepted (even if that acceptance comes about violently) neighbors can have long periods of peace, even if other salient issues arise.” (Senese/Vasquez 2008: 278–279): The stable and unchallenged borders, we can conclude, adds the predictability that is central to quality peace. The solution to the Saar issue, through a referendum also meant that the population in the area had a role in the settlement, i.e. there was an inbuilt acceptance of human dignity as part of the solution. The ensuing organization, what

14

It was typical for the Communist regimes in Europe, notably in Poland, to refer to German ‘revanchism’, based on the Federal Republic’s refusal to legally accept the new borders along the Oder-Neisse line. Chancellor Willy Brandt’s approach, Ostpolitik, changed this in the early 1970s.

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became EU, has a strong focus on human rights. Thus, the solution of the territorial issue combined in a reinforcing way with other elements of quality peace. This may well be true for much of Western, and Central Europe, but more complicated if we study South East Europe and the Euro-Asian (Caucasus and Central Asia) region. The examples abound: the dissolution of Yugoslavia and of the Soviet Union brought territorial issues to the top of the international agenda; four wars in the former Yugoslav area during the 1990s; serious conflicts in the Caucasus region; the turmoil in Ukraine. All these armed conflicts resulted in border changes that rarely has had international recognition, except for independence of Bosnia and Kosovo.15 The 25 years that have passed since the Dayton Agreement in 1995 have witnessed many crises, but without escalating to war. It is still more of a non-war situation than quality peace. Further to the east, Russia’s unilateral annexation of Crimea in March 2014 and its support for separatists in Ukraine created a major crisis in global relations, with rising insecurity and new military preparations. Thus, the further east you go in Europe the more unsettled situations there are.

22.4.3 Territorial Peace and Democracy The conclusion from this is that it is important to distinguish between conflicts over territory and those over governance. This is an integral part of the Uppsala Conflict Data Program (UCDP), and this theoretical conclusion is validated by the empirical observations just made.16 What this suggests is also the importance of sequencing. Dealing with the territorial issues appears to be a necessary first step for changing relations in durably peaceful direction. However, it does not mean that we should disregard the issue of governance. Western European history illustrates this. Germany’s acceptance of its new borders after the Second World War was connected to democratization. It was its democratically elected government that accepted the border changes, and it could do this without intense opposition in the country. The government was legitimate, the issues had been discussed in public, and, in addition, the government was seen as reliable. This was not always so, however. Germany’s acquiescence to the terms of the Versailles treaty of 1919 was also democratic, in the sense that it was carried by the new and fragile democratic government that had taken over following the collapse of the Imperial regime. It met intense critique from nationalists. This was exacerbated by the weakness of the 15

There is resistance: Kosovo does not yet have a seat in the UN General Assembly, partly due to Serbia’s opposition. See https://emerging-europe.com/news/serbias-campaign-to-reduce-thenumber-of-countries-which-recognise-kosovo-is-working (downloaded June 13, 2020). Greece accepted the independence of its northern neighbor already 1995 but objected to its designation. The Prespa agreement of 2018 made North Macedonia the official name and established relations between the two countries. 16 Wallensteen 2019, op.cit.

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parliamentary system as well as the economic hardship that followed the war. Together this gave rise to the Nazi revanchist regime. In the post-1945 period, however, the democratic regime was stronger constitutionally and had a firmer grounding in the public to be able to withstand pressures (not the least from the many refugees from Germany’s former Eastern territories and states in Central Europe), the economy was growing and there were tangible benefits from integration. The story of Central and Eastern Europe is different: the democratic forces that existed, for instance, in Poland and in Czechoslovakia, were systematically eliminated. Democratically inspired revolts in 1953 and 1956 were forcefully defeated, particularly in Hungary. In 1968 the Soviet-led Warsaw Pact organized the invasion of Czechoslovakia when its Communist leaders embarked on a popular reformist path. There was not the same bloodletting as in Hungary, partly due the local inhabitants’ choice of the resistance: non-violent techniques. Again popular protests erupted in the period after 1977, temporarily restrained, only to emerge with creative intensity in 1988–89, leading to the collapse of the entire Soviet system. It is a different story, but it all takes place within the territorial confines created in 1945. The Czechoslovak union was dismantled, peacefully by 1993, in stark contrast to the ongoing wars in the Balkans following the dissolution of the Yugoslavian union. These contrasting European experiences are noteworthy. It suggests that the correlations between territorial arrangements and democracy may not be as linear as proposed by Gibler. There are close linkages between how power is exerted inside a state and how that state is dealing with its inter-state relations. Changed borders, in other words, have to be accepted domestically and the government that agrees to them also needs to have legitimacy within the country to do that. Democracy provides for legitimacy, in ways authoritarian rule may not. At the same time the democratization of much of Central Europe in the 1980s may have been possible as there were no needs or mobilizations for changing borders and no demands for national sovereignty (rather there was a matter of national governance, away from Soviet control). The units existed already and were not questioned in this region. A potential complication was avoided, and this is even more obvious when comparing Central Europe to South East Europe, particularly the Balkans, where questions of sovereignty and borders led to a series of crises and four wars. Remarkably, territorial issues play a role, when they are present as manifest incompatibilities, but also when they are absent: then it means the basic unit of action has legal sovereignty and allows for a different focus, notably on its governance and performance.

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Democratic Peace

22.5.1 General Findings The results from quantitative studies on the democratic peace, i.e. that two democratic states do not go to war with each other, belong to the most wellestablished findings in international relations and peace research. There is little need to repeat this work here. It was summarized in the presidential address by Nils Petter Gleditsch to the International Studies Association in 2008 (Gleditsch 2008). It combined several elements, even justifying the notion of this being a ‘liberal’ peace consisting of democracy, open trade and international organizational memberships. However, an important puzzle remains to be answered: how come that democratic states can act peacefully toward other democratic states but not necessarily in relations to non-democratic states? Statistically, this is clear, but the mechanisms need exploration, beyond this article. One answer would be that there are no major issues remaining between democratic states, notably no territorial disagreements. An alternative answer is that democratic states feel threatened by non-democratic states and, thus, engage in regime change. This suggests that there is a missionary element in democratic societies that should not be under-rated. It is an argument like “what is good to us, must be good also for others.” Certainly, this is not true for all democratic regimes, but there is a record of democratic major powers in engaging in regime change activities, as witnessed repeatedly also in the post-Cold War period.17

22.5.2 Democracy and Peace in Europe Democratic regimes were re-created in Europe after the Second World War. There were traditions to return to for many countries, notably for France, Italy and Germany. Clearly, the Western leaders expected democratic governance to be the framework for the entire continent. There were several challenges to this vision: Immediately in the rule of Communist parties in Central and Eastern Europe, later

17

The 2000s provide examples: The UN authorized operation in Libya in 2011 was carried out by NATO and resulted in the removal of a non-democratic regime. The 2003 Iraq War was an operation led by three democratic countries, USA, UK and Australia. In 2000 UK intervened in Sierra Leone to protect the government from rebels, something British Premier Tony Blair saw as an element of a ‘doctrine’ for democratic states, Blair 2010: 247–248. The expressed desire of the US Trump administration to withdraw militarily from Afghanistan for instance through the Doha Agreement of February 2020, ran counter to the perceived need to protect democratic gains and women’s rights in the country. Even during this presidency the US was heavily involved in conflicts in other states.

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in dealing with self-determination issues within democracy, and most recently, the reduction in democracy from within democracy itself. The first challenges was the taking of power in a number of East and Central European countries by small Communist parties with the help of Soviet troops. The idea of one party having the “leading role” meant in fact that all other parties and movements were subjugated to that party and its apparatus. The one-party state became a fact, although constitutions may have looked more democratic. In fact, control was maintained by a few, and only with the help of external forces. In only two countries were there indigenous Communist movements with significant strength democratically (Czechoslovakia) and militarily (Yugoslavia). The issue of governance was integrated into the polarization between East and West. As we just saw, it was at the same time intertwined with the territorial issues. Unsettled situations – for instance on Poland’s borders – could be used by Polish and Soviet leaders as an excuse for suppression: there were credible external threats to point to (“German revanchism” as it was described, largely inaccurate at that). Thus, the Helsinki Act 1975 became an important event, as it removed territorial fear from the top of the agenda. Democratization could proceed, and, when it was halted (as happened in several countries in the years of 1978–1981), it became abundantly clear to the population that national politics was no longer a matter of territorial integrity, only one of maintaining illegitimate power. The Western part of the continent did not have these problems, and thus we could see a continuous solidification of democracy. The last military coup occurred in France in 1958 leading to the creation of the more robust Fifth Republic. The ending of the dictatorships in Spain, Portugal and Greece in the early 1970s helped to complete the picture of a democratic community confronting the Communistcontrolled East. It is not unlikely that the East-West polarization contributed to the internal stabilization of the democratic system throughout Western Europe. There were territorially based challenges to these democracies, but they were not elements in inter-state conflicts. The changes in 1989 were remarkable as they were largely nonviolent (with the exception of Romania), and resulted in a swift consolidation of democratic regimes. Furthermore, the process of economic integration into Europe moved rapidly, meaning that there is now, 30 years later, a vast territorial area of democratic cooperation without territorial disputes between states. It should be noted, however, that membership in the European Union is predicated on the settlement of border disputes as well as the consolidation of democratic rule.18 In that way, there were material incentives for the countries both to sort out territorial issues with their neighbors and to improve their domestic governance. Certainly, there were also economic requirements, but many of those could be complied to, without dealing with governance reforms or territorial issues. Still, democracy replaced Communist,

18

The only exception so far is the inclusion of Cyprus into EU in 2004. This, in fact, undermined the proposed UN plan for a settlement prior to accession, something that had been a standard EU requirement before this. The conflict still remains unsettled.

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one-party regime or one-person regimes in most countries. The vision of the Western victors in 1945 materialized, but only after a long period of confrontation. The other challenge and an obvious weakness of the democratic system is the definition of the ‘people’, the demos of democracy. Democratic states may have few internal armed conflicts, but at the same time many have protracted internal territorial conflicts, as witnessed by the Northern Ireland, Basque and Cyprus armed conflicts, as well as the regionally based challenges from, say, Catalonia in Spain and the tensions in Belgium between Wallonia and Flanders. The democratic framework may reduce the likelihood that these tensions become heavily militarized, but they constitute a challenge to democracy: can certain areas be given special status? The Åland Islands in Finland, Greenland and Färö Islands in Denmark suggest that this is possible. It requires considerable patience, tolerance and political skills to bring this about. The tentative conclusion is that peaceful outcomes are more likely in a democratic framework than any other. But again, it takes time. Finally, in the late 2010s there was a third challenge to democracy emerging all over Europe: a xenophobic reaction to foreigners, immigrants, and political refugees from outside the continent. In Hungary and Poland, politics moved quickly in a direction of less strict adherence to democratic principles. That democracy could be undermined “from the inside” is a new challenge to politics as well as to democratic theory. In other words, the European experiences over the past 75 years give rise to a number of lessons with respect to the role of democracy in peacemaking and in quality peace. It refines the meaning of democracy as a way of achieving human dignity with respect of human rights in a comprehensive sense.

22.6

East Asia and Quality Peace

22.6.1 Territorial Armed Conflicts in East Asia There are a set of inter-state conflicts that remain unsettled in East Asia and where we have seen fighting going back to 1975, i.e. after the end of the Vietnam War. They are the cases where it is necessary to think of how to rebuild a mutually rewarding post-war peace. Here are the three territorial armed conflicts in Indochina in this period: • Cambodia and Vietnam were in a border conflict 1975–1977, and this issue was dealt with only after the removal of the incumbent Cambodian regime in 1978, resulting in an agreement in the 1980s, but the border is still not demarcated. The process appears stalled. • China’s idea of teaching a ‘lesson’ to Vietnam in 1979 stemmed partly from an unsettled border issue, and fighting continued until 1988. Land border issues are now settled, but questions remain with maritime boundaries.

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• Cambodia and Thailand has contested border areas, where the issues have been known to be without a final settlement. The decisions by the International Court of Justice (ICJ) concerned some elements in the dispute. An armed conflict flared up in 2011. ICJ made a decision on this in 2013. Let us look at these situations. As to the territorial conflict between Cambodia and Vietnam, there is an agreed process of settling the border issues (Amer 1997).19 Officially, the parties adhered to the process but still turned this into protracted implementation.20 There was a treaty already in 1985, with a supplementary accord in 2005 and a process of marking the boundary.21 It has not been completed as of 2020, meaning that an opportunity that has been present for 40 years have not yet been met. This cannot only be attributed to technical matters, such as a lack of trained personnel. There have been stable governments with the same philosophy in both countries for this entire period. Thus, there is likely to be other concerns, notably from those interested in reverting the conflict to traditional nationalist animosities. The issues of territorial integrity can be visualized and dramatized to generate public reactions. There is prejudice between Khmer and Vietnamese to build on, for instance. Also, the relations between Vietnam and China need to be discussed in this context. Unsolved border issues were among the reasons for China’s invasion in 1979, in addition to matters of regional influence. After a short war on Vietnamese territory, the Chinese forces withdrew and negotiations started. Clashes continued until 1988. An agreement was concluded in 1999 and border demarcation was completed by 2010, and thus the land border now appears to be settled, although still needing further demarcation.22 It took twelve years after the agreement and twenty-five years after the end of fighting. In addition, the protracted temple issue between Thailand and Cambodia has been dealt with by ICJ. After many shifts and turns the ICJ outcome from 2013 seems to be one the parties are now able to live with. These cases illustrate the difficulties with territorial conflicts. Although they have repeatedly given rise to violence, the governments have displayed little urgency in settlement. Most actors are keenly aware of their disruptive potential and would, thus, have an incentive removing them from the political agenda. Furthermore, when they are unsettled they are likely to prevent broader forms of cooperation.

19

The border dispute may internationally have been overshadowed by the conflict over government in 1978: Vietnam’s removal of the Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia. No doubt this action violated international norms, but at the same time ended massive repression. 20 For news and analysis on boundary issues the International Boundaries Research Unit at Durham University (IBRU) is a good source, see, https://www.dur.ac.uk/ibru/news/boundary_news/. 21 Thai News Service, 7 August 2006, via Factiva.com, via IBRU. 22 Vietnam News Agency Bulletin, 14 July 2010, via IBRU archives and more recently https:// www.dur.ac.uk/ibru/news/boundary_news/?itemno=21796&rehref=%2Fibru%2Fnews% 2F&resubj=Boundary+news%20Headlines.

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It means valuable opportunities for future mutual beneficial cooperation are lost or delayed. Still, governments have not been able to terminate the conflicts. In addition to these three conflicts, which all concern land borders, there is a host of unsolved maritime disputes around islands and islets, all largely uninhabited but still able to generate considerable attention and amassing of resources, just as predicted by the theory of territorial peace. Most recently they have involved China, Japan and Taiwan, but previously we have seen verbal and military confrontations in many dyads of the region. Thus, it is interesting that Vietnam and China concluded an agreement on principles in November 2011, even establishing a hotline between the two countries. This followed incidents involving fishermen in the disputed areas.23 Even so, such disputes were again reported.24 The idea of a hotline, however, has also found to be applicable to the China-Japan relations.25 We have to conclude that all pertinent territorial issues have not been settled in the period following the earlier wars in the post-1945 period. The settlements that we can point to are instead located in other parts of Asia, or even the outer perimeters of the East Asian region. For instance, there is the remarkable series of agreements on border issues made between the Soviet Union/Russia and China in the early 1990s. In line with the arguments, we can also see considerable cooperation between these two major powers, in border areas, as well as elsewhere, not the least on global issues such as those relating to Iran and Syria. The unsettled territorial issues of East Asia separate this region dramatically from the experience of Europe in the past 75 years. It points to the urgency of finding solutions to territorial issues. Even so, we gave examples of a similar delay in accepting borders, notably between Germany and countries to the East. That took more than three decades. The issue, which may have been thought of as most difficult to settle, Saarland, however, was solved the quickest. It is worth pondering about. The possibilities of closer cooperation within the European context may have been an incentive. Could such incentives be created in East Asia? The solutions we have seen in East Asia have largely been bilateral, but they may still involve general principles that affect other solutions. The maritime issues illustrate this particularly well. The Helsinki Act was based on general understanding, basically freezing all existing borders, a status quo solution. This may not be equally easy for the territorial disputes in East Asia. The shared framework of the UN Convention of the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), however, could provide an avenue, comparable to the one of the Helsinki Act. There is one particular difference. The issues that confronted Europe and Germany involved the tragedies of millions of refugees who had attachment to areas they had to leave. They became powerful voters. For them there were also 23

See https://www.dur.ac.uk/ibru/news/boundary_news/?itemno=12969&rehref=%2Fibru% 2Fnews%2F&resubj=Boundary+news%20Headlines. 24 See https://www.dur.ac.uk/ibru/news/boundary_news/?itemno=14312&rehref=%2Fibru% 2Fnews%2F&resubj=Boundary+news%20Headlines. 25 See https://www.dur.ac.uk/ibru/news/boundary_news/?itemno=23345&rehref=%2Fibru% 2Fnews%2F&resubj=Boundary+news+Headlines.

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significant matters of compensation. The issues we have discussed with respect to territorial disputes in East Asia appear comparatively limited and manageable. They concern remote areas, with limited populations and of little historical or symbolic quality. Thus, the inability to settle these issues is difficult to relate to the intrinsic importance of these lands. The increasing wealth of the disputing countries would make matters of economic compensation simpler. But perhaps it works the other way around. As the economic gains are limited, the value of the disputed islets rests entirely with their symbolic or, possibly, military, value. That may make them harder to deal with. The durable territorial agreements for East Asia are few and have taken a long time to work out. This situation is likely to have a negative effect on the development of cooperation. In terms of the criteria for quality peace, it means that many states do not have the territorial integrity that would make them secure for the foreseeable future. On territorial matters East Asia finds itself far from quality peace. Although there is considerable tension around the territorial issues, we still have not seen a case where such issues have escalated into a serious military confrontation, for forty years. The ability to contain the disputes, in other words, may be an integral part of the present status of the East Asian Peace: no war, no escalation, but also: no settlement.

22.6.2 East Asia and Governmental Conflicts Between States In the period after the Vietnam War the East Asian region has seen a set of recurrent interstate conflict around governance. They have not resulted in war, but still colored bilateral and regional relations. They are not equally well suited for negotiation as they can have an absolute character: to the political actors there may be only one acceptable form of governance and, in case of victory, this is the one that will be instituted. It may, furthermore, not be democratic governance that interests political leaders. This gives two challenges. Can authoritarian regimes create peace, thus developing an autocratic counterpart to democratic peace? It has been suggested that the situation of the Europe in the mid-19th century had such features: there were similar aristocratic regimes in many leading countries and they may have been able to communicate easily with each other to be able to deal with rising conflicts in a joint way.26 The second challenge is, what will happen when the contention involves contrasting principle of governance, such as democratic v. non-democratic, non-Communist v. Communist? If Idealpolitik is important, as suggested at the

The notion could be termed an “aristocratic” or “elite-centered” peace: the regimes operate on similar, elite-agreed principles of governance (Wallensteen 2011, Chapter 3).

26

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outset, we would also expect to see serious difficulties in agreeing on this score. As a consequence post-war construction of quality peace would be hampered. Let us look at the list of inter-state conflicts in East Asia (after the US withdrawal from Indochina in 1973), where fundamental policies were questioned and change of government was significant: • North Korea v. South Korea: this conflict can be seen as an issue over governance. The North wants to unite the Korean peninsula under its brand of Marxist Socialism, while the South assumes that any unification should be under a democratic framework. The coexistence of two highly diametrical forms of government within one national framework is unlikely to be smooth. This is so as any attempt of cooperation between these states has constantly been challenged, making it hard to believe cooperation would be easier if the conflicts were housed within one unified state. • China v. Taiwan is another unification issue where the concern about governance is basic. That was the incompatibility of the civil war and it remains largely the same. Certainly, analysts can point to the regional autonomies of Hong Kong and Macao, but these arrangements are not likely to be convincing to either side. China’s actions in 2019–20 have reinforced the fears rising from an authoritarian regime. As in the previous case, the democratic framework confronts a non-democratic one. • North Vietnam’s victory over South Vietnam in 1975, where the sudden collapse of the government in South Vietnam may have been as surprising to the North as it was to the South and its allies. This, of course, ended a conflict that had gone on for almost thirty years, and it did so without a peaceful settlement. What happened in the years that followed has seen remarkably little analysis. The North took a firm, so far unchallenged, control of the South of the country. The Communist Party only lately begun to develop ideas to allow several candidates in national elections, but these measures are not likely to go beyond a given framework. Interestingly, in the debate that led to the reforms of the Communist Party’s economic policy, experiences from the South played a role (Elliott 2012). • Vietnam’s invasion of Cambodia in 1978 resulted in a regime change although the border issue was the initial motivation for the invasion. The incumbent government, run by the Khmer Rouge, retreated to peripheral jungle areas, and was replaced with a Vietnam-friendly regime ruling most of the country. The former government, remarkably, was seated in the United Nations for the following decade, and also had a role in the negotiated settlement in 1991, after Vietnam’s withdrawal. During the following years the Khmer Rouge lost influence. This remains one of the few negotiated settlements on inter-state conflicts in the region. It meant Cambodia for a while had a functioning multi-party system. Lately, however, the government that has been in place since 1979 has become increasingly authoritarian.

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The relations among these countries and units remain antagonistic and the efforts to peace efforts have continuously run into obstacles. It is difficult to transcend the governance issues. Even the emergence of more democratic forms in some of the countries (South Korea and Taiwan, respectively) seems not to have moved interstate relations into a direction of quality peace. Possibly to the contrary: the concept may enhance suspicion and make it more difficult for leaderships to make deals with the opposing side. It illustrates the complications that arise when democratic principles of governance meet those of authoritarian regimes. Solutions to such problems have to be found within the individual states themselves. Vietnam’s withdrawal from Cambodia by 1989 provided an opportunity for Cambodia to enter the compromise that was negotiated in Paris in 1991. Vietnam’s role was reduced. Vietnam was probably more concerned about the agreed non-alignment of Cambodia, thus hoping to prevent a two-sided challenge from an alliance between Cambodia and China. The key policy for many regimes in the region was to maintain one-party primacy (North Korea, China, Vietnam). The experience of inter-state conflict seems largely to make such thinking more deeprooted. In Cambodia the governing party ventured into actually testing its ability to garner popular support.27 Obviously, basic to liberal, democratic systems is their right to freely form political and independent parties. That runs counter to the thinking of Communist regimes and also worries authoritarian leaders. In particular, they tend to be rebuff external reactions to their governance, maintaining that the application of, for instance, human rights is an internal matter. Thus, it is difficult to see a solution on a regional level for East Asia. The governance variation is too great. In terms of quality peace, then, the governance issues remain contentious. Insecurity between the states is partly shaped by this and there is little respect for other forms of governance. On a diplomatic level, however, all sides in East Asia agree to the importance of non-interference in internal political affairs. This means that the particularistic promotion of one’s own political system has become less pressing, compared to the Cold War era. This could signal the gradual emergence of a culture of “live and let-live.” In this coexistence approach each side sticks to its preferred domestic order, and inter-state relations are dealt with on this basis. Over the years there is a trend of reduced external support to armed opposition groups in the region. Interesting, the international concerns for individual human rights still remain. Thus, rather than supporting political opposition groups and clandestine parties, today’s reality may be one of greater concern for the fate of particular individuals. The ideological confrontation on governance issues may have subsided. The obvious compromise between a one-party state and a multi-party state is, of course, the acceptance of freely formed parties. It requires a constitution that allows for this. Comparing to the European experience, a central development was the emergence

27

Every election, since the mid-1990s, however, has been criticized for significant electoral irregularities.

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of Euro-Communism, which did exactly this: Communist parties could run in elections and they would not change the constitution if winning. As long as such approaches are seen as challenges, then there is no compromise possible. There is no sign of an Asian version of Euro-Communism. If anything, there remains strong international pressure for respecting human rights on the leading countries of the region.

22.7

The Realpolitik Alternative

So far, we have seen the significance of the territorial issues. On many scores they would be the ones most easy to negotiate and, thus, help move the region forward towards more security. The governance issues if raised in an inter-state or regional context, as a contrast, are likely only to cement divisions. We have also seen an interplay between these factors: recalcitrance on territorial issues may contribute to consolidation of incumbent regimes and domestic status quo, whether democratic or not. Thus, headway on one field may run into difficulties because of an impossibility to move ahead simultaneously in the other. This is where it may important to take a broader look. The developments in Europe were closely intertwined with major power relations. For much of the Cold War, USA favored European integration, while the Soviet Union objected to it. Both the US and European leaderships saw close connections across the North Atlantic as a necessity in balancing Soviet influence. The Soviet Union saw this as a threat and worked to undermine the alliance. However, for the direct relations between the US and USSR the 1975 Helsinki Act was a watershed. Largely it was a big power deal. The West accepted status quo on borders, while the East accepted human rights as an international issue. It was part of détente policies. The dynamics that followed may largely have been internal to the states, but the external conditions were supportive of these aspirations. The European experiences also relate to the Realpolitik conditions. What role could there, then, be for the ‘external’ actors in the East Asian context? Certainly, the US and Russia are not politically external to the region and they were not in Europe either. Russia neighbors China in much the same way it is a ‘neighbor’ to Europe. With respect to Japan, Russia still controls the Kurile Islands – to the dismay of Japan’s government even visited by President Dmitry Medvedev in 2010.28 The US has a heavy military presence throughout the region. Thus, if the scholarly findings of territorial or democratic peace do not suggest easy ways ‘Japan recalls envoy to Russia over islands dispute’, Ellen Barry, New York Times, November 2 2010; ‘Kuril islands dispute between Russian and Japan’, BBC News, November 1 2010, from IBRU archives. When Putin returned to the Russian Presidency he took an even more intransigent attitude, notably bolstered by the popularity in Russia of the annexation of Crimea in 2014–15. In January 2019 New York Times reported on his attitude with respect to the Kurile Islands: https:// www.nytimes.com/2019/01/22/world/europe/kuril-islands-putin-abe.html’. 28

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towards a security community and quality peace, what about a heavier engagement by the major nuclear weapons powers (US and Russia) of the world? A fair assessment would say that these two may be powerful, but their influence in this particular region is not comparable to their standing in Europe at the time when inter-state cooperation was built, i.e. in the period leading to the Helsinki Act. It is not conceivable that the two would be able to make a similar deal. It is typical that the US offers in 2010 to mediate between China and Japan on the status of the disputed islands was immediately rejected by China.29 Looking at the patterns of interaction, it is more logical to find bilateral relations of significance. China and Russia cooperate on a host of issues, but so has USA and China on other matters, until the Trump presidency. China may have a preference for dealing with matters bilaterally, rather than in a regional context. That is also the position of the Trump administration. China’s bilateral approach could perhaps be more successful, for instance, with agreements directly with Vietnam. It could also act straight to Japan. One reason for avoiding a regional setting, in other words, is that bilateral connections enhances China’s dominance and results in ‘better’ agreement from its perspective. It could also be that a regional approach may require some type of recognition of Taiwan as a separate political entity. Bilateralism also ties countries directly to the actor. Regional contexts may instead lead to more compromises and risk the formation of counter-wailing groupings. That may make some circles negative or fearful of regionalism. Again, the European experience is interesting. The idea of a European conference on peace and security was promoted by the Soviet Union as a way of separating “Europe” from North America. In essence, the Soviet policy hoped to develop bilateral relations to the individual European countries through this devise. When the process was formed, with the inclusion of the USA and Canada, it had a different dynamics than expected by the Soviets. The Western concern, furthermore, was with the conventional weapons superiority of the Soviet bloc in Central Europe. Thus, a separate forum of negotiations was formed at the same time as the Helsinki process: talks on the mutual and balanced reduction of conventional forces (MBFR). The Helsinki process continued as a more comprehensive political track, including the human rights issues, while the MBFR talks dealt with military issues. By the late 1980s there were agreements on confidence-building measures (in Stockholm 1986) as part of the Helsinki process and a treaty on conventional armed force reductions in Europe (CFE). Undoubtedly, these agreements contributed to a reduction in tension in Europe, and they continue to be relevant elements. The Realpolitik concerns address one of the elements in the quality peace: the security considerations. The territorial and governance issues may be what drive the conflicts, but without the accompanying arms developments and alliances, the dangers are limited. This is acknowledged, particularly in the territorial peace

‘China rejects US involvement in China-Japan island row’, BBC News Asia-Pacific, 1 November 2010, from IBRU archives. 29

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literature. These reflections, however, point to another way forward. It may well be that territorial issues can be settled in a bilateral relationship, and that most governments in East Asia prefer not to raise governance issues internationally beyond the field of human rights, but reductions in tensions is a regional concern. It cannot be handled only between two states, for instance. Thus, the talks on North Korea and nuclear non-proliferation involve six countries. The Trump administration took a different approach, by talking directly to the North Korean leader (thus playing “the recognition card” earlier administrations have held up as a carrot for concessions). By 2020 no tangible results could be demonstrated from this approach in solving the nuclear weapons issue. It suggests that reduction of tensions in the whole region would have to be a matter for all the members of the region, including the ‘external’ actors.

22.8

Lessons for Other Regions

From the experiences of Europe and East Asia there are a number of lessons for quality peace and for the handlings of conflicts relating to territory and governance. It might even be possible to rank regions with respect to achievements in terms of solving these general and crucial problems. However, that is not the purpose here, but rather to suggest some general conclusions. First, for regional cooperation to succeed and move constructively to new levels of interaction, the settlement of territorial issues appears paramount. Western Europe has reported success in this regard. The same is true for other areas, notably North America and the Nordic region. This conclusion has formally been incorporated into the EU membership accession process, i.e. not admitting countries with unsolved territorial disputes.30 The word “settlement” can be debated, of course. There can still be outstanding issues, but the point is that they are not regarded by the parties as crucial or existential. This means concerns can be solved pragmatically. ‘Settlement’ actually means exactly this: territorial issues are no longer problematized as national security concerns. Life can take place without concern for territorial issues. East Asia is replete with unsettled territorial matters, which can jeopardize relationships and quickly lead to a return to the historical grievances. Half-baked arrangements, such as a cease-fire, an acceptance of a fait accompli or living with a non-demarcated border, may be sufficient for the resumption of international trade and investment. However, it also means that there are dangers and, thus, such forms of conflict ending are far from the notion of quality peace. History can strike back. Even small incidents can lead to setbacks for promising developments, and in fact

30

We have noted one exception: the admission of Cyprus 2004. This meant losing an opportunity for a settlement as suggested by the Annan Plan, which would have brought North Cyprus into EU. Instead, EU’s role in Eastern Mediterranean suffered.

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be used by those who do not want improved relations. Compared to the European scene, the territorial disputes in East Asia do not affect a lot of people (no refugees that have lost territory, no property losses) and have little symbolic values historically (although they can always be portrayed as such). Thus, it is a priority for a move from the present uneasy peace to quality peace to find settlements of these disputes. Policies of “no escalation – no settlement” is not sufficient for the future. Other regions display versions of this. For instance, the Middle East has one particular concern: Palestine. It actually combines the element of territory and governance: which territory and what status (autonomy-independence) should this territory have? The colonial borders have found general acceptance, something that was made clear in the region’s reaction to Iraq’s occupation and annexation of Kuwait in 1990–1991. Most Arab countries opposed Iraq’s action and the outcome, following Iraq’s withdrawal in 1991 reinforced the old borders. The same could be seen when ISIS erased the border posts between Syria and Iraq and established a “Caliphate”. It provided a challenge to all colonially imposed borders but that was also a reason for many states to turn against ISIS (although many still have been secretly sympathetic to this Sunni-based organization). Similarly, the civil war in Yemen has a territorial aspect in an old North-South divide. As these cases make clear, however, the Middle East is not only a matter of territorial issues; it is also intertwined with governance issue and the very definition of a state. Such state formation conflicts often have an ethnic basis and thus connects to the human dignity aspect of quality peace. For the Palestinians, the recognition by Israel of their right to a state is also the acknowledgement of a separate identity, other than “Israeli Arab” or “Arab only”. This then is a second conclusion for regional cooperation to thrive: states need to be secure in their identity as states. This means that they are accepted by the other states in the region. Diplomatic recognition is an expression of this. In the European examples that was a stumbling block with respect to East Germany, or – as it formally called itself – the German Democratic Republic (DDR in German). It was difficult for West Germany to accept this as a state as it did not have legitimacy with its own population. Still, West Germany’s willingness to relate to it as a legally existing entity eased tensions internationally (and complicated DDR’s internal legitimation as it then had to provide services and allow participation in ways that ultimately threatened its survival). In the post-Cold War situation there are several such European situations, notably around Kosovo, as well as the territories held by Russia or Russia-supported forces in Ukraine and Georgia. To this can be added Armenian controlled territories of Azerbaijan. Regional projects for these countries have, as a consequence, been stalled. East Asia has additional examples of this, e.g. the uncertainties surrounding North Korea, Taiwan and Hong Kong. These are not territorial issues per se, but matter of recognition where the actions of the USA and China, respectively, are central. US President Trump’s meetings with North Korea’s leader Kim Young-Un did neither produce the security the regime wanted nor the nuclear disarmament the US and the world expected. China’s refusal to recognize Taiwan as state (for instance, in the way West Germany could accept the DDR) has kept tensions high

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in the region (and again, a summit meeting between two leaders in 2015 did not result in constructive dynamics). The gradual undermining of Hong Kong’s autonomous status has also raised concern about China’s intentions. In other words, inter-state cooperation is built on an inter-state acceptance of an equal status. This is ‘dignity’ between states. When that is not present, regional cooperation suffers, either by being reduced or by not even being initiated. Third, the type of governance is important, according to the democratic peace findings. Again, Europe scores higher on this than other regions. There is, by now, a history of close cooperation between democratic states. Also, when democracy in some countries in the region is declining, there seems also to be a negative effect on regional cooperation. EU has definitely stalled in some aspects as the authoritarian tendencies have become stronger in member-states such as Hungary and Poland. The governance issues are more difficult, and often a matter for internal dynamics, and regional interference is resisted. For a time there appears to have been a philosophy of “live and let-live” in the East Asia region. This means that democratic states have not necessarily pursued an agenda of regime change. However, they have emphasized the importance of respect for human rights. Human rights are international issues and have been so since the first UN Declaration on this topic in 1948. The Helsinki Act made that clear for Europe. There is no similar regional document for East Asia or the Middle East. This means human rights issues are, at most, discussed bilaterally. China has, over the past ten years, become increasingly recalcitrant with respect to this. It takes place at the same time that there is more justification for such concerns than in a long time, notably seen in the fate of the Uighur population.31 The actual application of human rights by all actors might be the single most important measure of political confidence-building a region can see. East Asia’s record in this regard is debatable, with three Communist one-party states and a number of other authoritarian regimes. One can also point to a democracy deficit in the Middle East that strongly affects the building of quality peace in this region. Finally, there is the issue of human safety. Regionally this means considering the role of military matters for regional quality peace. The European arrangement on conventional force reductions and confidence-building measures, associated with the MBFR talks, is a most promising avenue. In the European region, however, these have stalled or even been abandoned, so far without increasing tension. With regard to the arsenals and compositions of nuclear weapons there is an even more worrisome trend. Several international treaties that limit weapons development have been terminated, largely by the US Trump administration. Many achievements that were central in ending the Cold War thus are no longer in place. Furthermore, the inspirations that these measures provided for other regions are now turning into the

31

Sweden has its own experience of this, since a Swedish citizen of Chinese origin was kidnapped by Chinese authorities in 2015 and 2018, see https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-china51624433.

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reverse: obviously they are not as lasting and reliable as is needed for building security for the long-term. Again, there are many ideas that could be useful for regional peacebuilding and for giving the efforts the qualities needed. They do require strong incentives, considerable popular support and an environment (politically, culturally, psychologically) that is conducive to such long-term thinking. For this to take place it is important that ideas are sharpened and made known. In that way they can be pursued not only by academics as interesting thought experiments but also by a public increasingly concerned about regional dynamics. That provides an avenue towards regional quality peace.

References Amer, Ramses 1997. Border Conflicts between Cambodia and Vietnam. IBRU Boundary and Security Bulletin Summer 1997, pp. 80–91. Download, November 24, 2011: https://www.dur. ac.uk/resources/ibru/publications/full/bsb5-2_amer.pdf. Blair, Tony 2010. A Journey. My Political Life, New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Elliott, David W. 2012. Changing Worlds. Vietnam’s Transition from Cold War to Globalization. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. Gibler, Douglas M 2012. The Territorial Peace: Borders, State Development and International Conflict, Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Gibler, Douglas M and Jaroslav Tir. 2010. Settled Borders and Regime Type: Democratic Transitions and Consequences of Peaceful Territorial Transfers. American Journal of Political Science 54 (4): 951–968. Gleditsch, Nils Petter 2008. The Liberal Moment Fifteen Years On. International Studies Quarterly 52 (4): 691–712. Morgan, Patrick M 1997. ‘Regional Security Complexes and Regional Order.’ In David A. Lake and Patrick M. Morgan (eds) Regional Orders: Building Security in a New World, State College: Pennsylvania State University Press. Putten, Frans-Paul, van der 2103. Towards a Pacific Community? The United States and Regional Leadership in East Asia, Journal of Global Policy and Governance, 2: 223–232. Ringmar, Erik 2012. Performing International Systems: Two East-Asian Alternatives to the Westphalian Order, International Organization, 66 (2): 1–25. Russett, Bruce M. 1967. International Regions and the International System. A Study of Political Ecology, Chicago: Rand McNally. Senese, Paul Domenic and John A. Vasquez 1995. “Assessing the Steps to War” in British Journal of Political Science 35 (4): 607–633. Senese, Paul D. and John A. Vasquez 2008. The Steps to War: An Empirical Study, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Tønnesson, Stein, Erik Melander, Elin Bjarnegård, Isak Svensson and Susanne Schaftenaar 2013. The fragile peace in East and South East Asia, SIPRI Yearbook 2013, chapter 1.II. Vasquez, John A. 1995. Why Do Neighbors Fight? Proximity, Interaction and Territoriality. Journal of Peace Research 32 (3): 277–293. Vasquez, John A. and Marie T. Henehan 2001. Territorial Disputes and the Probability of War, 1816–1992. Journal of Peace Research 38 (2): 123–138. Wallensteen, Peter and Margareta Sollenberg 1998. “Armed Conflict and Regional Conflict Complexes, 1989–1997,” Journal of Peace Research, 35 (1998): 593–606. Wallensteen, Peter 2011. Peace Research: Theory and Practice, London, New York: Routledge.

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Wallensteen, Peter and Anders Bjurner (eds) 2015. Regional Organizations and Peacemaking: Challengers to the United Nations? London: Routledge. Wallensteen, Peter 2019. Understanding Conflict Resolution. Fifth Edition, London: Sage. Wallensteen, Peter 2015. Quality Peace: Peacebuilding, Victory and World Order, New York, NY: Oxford University Press.

Data Archives International Boundaries Research Unit, https://www.dur.ac.uk/ibru/. Uppsala conflict data program, UCDP, http://www.ucdp.uu.se.

Chapter 23

Developing Quality Peace: Moving Forward Peter Wallensteen and Madhav Joshi

Abstract This chapter from 2018 summarizes fifteen contributions on peacebuilding after civil war, using the framework of quality peace. The authors specify five significant dimensions to consider when evaluating a society’s trajectory and conclude that quality peace is not only a matter of disarmament and economic growth but also requires space for an active civil society and security equality, i.e. considering security also for women.

23.1

Quality Peace

In our volume Understanding Quality Peace. Peacebuilding after Civil War we wanted to demonstrate the value of defining and delimitating the concept of quality peace based on theoretical work and thorough investigation.1 This work consists of a framework and fifteen empirical contributions, eleven of which focus on the five dimensions that are identified and presented below, comprising quality peace, and four case studies of peaceful endings in the 1990s (Cambodia, El Salvador, Northern Ireland and Mozambique, all having by now 20 years with peace agreements and without recurrence of war) where the simultaneous operation of the five dimensions are analyzed. Here we seek to summarize this work, specify the dimensions identified and suggest ways to move forward. The definition of quality peace provided in this context is applied to post-war conditions. The conflict situations considered are internal wars (whether about government power or territorial control) that ended through a peace agreement. Following the signing of an agreement, accord implementation provides us with a yardstick with which to measure the quality of the peace. If all parties do what they promised to do when the war ended, it is assumed there would be an improvement of post-war conditions. This, then, approaches what we mean by quality peace: 1 This chapter summarizes the project published in Madhav Joshi and Peter Wallensteen 2018 (eds) Understanding Quality Peace. Peacebuilding after Civil War, London: Routledge. This is a slightly revised version of Chapter 17, Wallensteen, Peter and Madhav Joshi “Developing Quality Peace: Moving forward”, pp. 277–284. Reproduced with permission.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_23

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conditions of mutual respect, provisions of security, and an expectation that these conditions are stable enough to be sustained. The five dimensions that we highlight provide both a theoretical explanation and some empirical evidence on the conditions in which some post-war societies could excel in quality peace measure while others significantly lag behind. The book Quality Peace from 2015 gave a theoretical background to the discussion on conditions that may prevent the recurrence of war in relations that ended a war through victory or peace agreement.2 It could build this on a systematic comparison of these two outcomes, whichever way the war was ended. It identified the three factors just mentioned as crucial and identifiable for wars within as well as between states and major powers (Wallensteen 2015). Now we have focused on the conditions after civil wars that ended with peace agreements, which should be optimal conditions for continued and deepened quality peace. Thus, this particular project summary has a closer focus. It deals with internal wars that largely concern government control. It departs from a theoretical expectation that there are five crucial dimensions of quality peace. These were identified based on earlier contributions and as well as theoretical considerations. They were illuminated with observations from the data collected by the Uppsala Conflict Data Program at Uppsala University, Sweden, and the Kroc Institute Peace Accords Matrix project at the University of Notre Dame, USA, as well as case studies and personal experiences from peace processes. The five dimensions are civil society, post-war security, governance, economic reconstruction, and reconciliation and justice. The factors were identified one by one, and without a specific assumption or theory about their interconnections. An understanding of their links to one another was meant to arise as part of the writing process. Thus, two workshops were convened at the Kroc Institute, in November 2010, and May 2012. The studies were updated in 2016.3 As expected, the contributions reflect diverse backgrounds. There are important differences in analysis. However, there are also basic agreements that need first to be spelled out before looking at these variations. Let us make clear, however, that the diversity that is evident in this project is what makes it special. It stems from the fact that contributors do have different theoretical and empirical perspectives, as well as epistemological starting points, all still compatible with the suggested framework. Furthermore, there is a fascinating variation in the implementation of agreements. The PAM scores for the conflicts included here demonstrate this very clearly. In the contribution by Manning and Dendere it is argued that the agreement on Mozambique has a high degree of implementation and that this was due to the

2

Peter Wallensteen, 2015. Quality Peace. Peacebuilding, Victory and World Order, Oxford University Press. 3 We also acknowledge the parallel work by Davenport, Christian, Erik Melander and Patrick M. Reagan resulting in their co-authored The Peace Continuum: what it is and how to study it. Oxford: Oxford University Press 2018.

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Quality Peace

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commitment of international actors.4 However, also other agreements have a strong implementation score, according to PAM. For the cases of Northern Ireland, Mozambique and El Salvador the implementation scores are in the range of 90%. A contrast is Cambodia with only 73% (Joshi et al. 2015). In addition, there is diversity with respect to the type of conflicts, although they are all internal wars and most are traditional civil wars. The exceptions are nevertheless important, notably the Northern Ireland conflict. In terms of implementation, however, there is not likely to be a difference in this regard. Finally, there is the diversity in terms of the peace agreements themselves. They certainly vary in important respects. The implementation score is but one way to gauge their ‘quality’. It would also be possible to determine if the peace accords actually cover the items that would be important for the future of the peace.

23.2

The Five Dimensions

A first observation is that the eleven contributors dealing with the five dimensions individually find them to be significant in determining quality peace. However, authors presenting case studies provide a more mixed picture. This may be natural when the authors weigh the local factors in the post-war processes. Thus, the case studies provide the real test to the importance of the five dimensions. Contrasting the cases is an instructive way to consolidate findings and point to the future. The case studies agree on the importance of the political settlement (the governance dimension) and the security situation (reduction in political violence and disarmament measures) in determining quality peace while the other three dimensions have a more varied record. As mentioned, many of the conflicts in this sample deal with governance issue, thus, it makes sense to see that the way this particular dimension is handled gives a clues to the future. Obviously many peace agreements regulate relations on an elite level. Mac Ginty points to the importance of also observing governance on the local and everyday level.5 That remains a challenge. Also, the matters of security are basic as it means the return to law, order and predictability in terms of personal physical safety. However, the ways of achieving this varies between cases and in the collected experience. Theoretically, it ranges from complete military integration to full disarmament, under the auspices of international peacekeeping. The variations reported here are less dramatic than the potential suggests. Thus, these two dimensions emerge in all the cases as important, and that makes the three remaining ones more challenging as they stretch our thinking beyond the

Carrie Manning and Chipo Dendere “Mozambique: a credible commitment to peace” in Joshi and Wallensteen, pp. 257–274. 5 Roger Mac Ginty 2018. ”Governance and negotiations. Whose quality standards?” in Joshi and Wallensteen, pp. 61–74. 4

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traditional and obvious. How do they fare in the general studies and in the case studies? Surprisingly, the case studies largely find that reconciliation processes are either of lesser importance in determining quality peace or neglected in the peace implementation process. In fact, national reconciliation processes were completely absent in Mozambique, and remain contested in cases such as Cambodia, El Salvador and Northern Ireland. Would this imply that the issue of reconciliation is of a global value that is not equally important in all local contexts? Or does it say the opposite: the fact that it was not addressed in some local situations suggests a continued fragility in some of the cases? The civil society dimension received more emphasis in some of the case studies. The significance of civil society was generally seen to be low in the peace negotiation processes but gain more importance after an agreement and end to fighting. This observation is derived from the four case studies. Furthermore, civil society’s role in post-settlement periods is important as Guardado et al. discuss in their chapter’s concluding remarks.6 Although the authors do not directly test the dimension of civil society as a contributing factor for sustaining the peace, their theoretical underpinnings assumes a significant role of civil society actors and organizations at the local level for mediating the relationship between government provision of services and peace in the country. The authors contrast these dimensions with the traditional ‘top-down’ factors associated with power-sharing and peacekeeping. Again we face a conclusion that seems contradictory and again we need to ask whether it tells something on the quality of the post-war peace. Certainly, a vigorous civil society would constitute an early warning for potential, renewed tensions. Furthermore, there could be a temporal difference. Civil society is more important in the 2000s than in the 1990s, which is the period on which our case studies are based (Anheier 2004; Edwards 2011). The factors of economic reconstruction were obviously significant in the four case studies, and several of them report a remarkable, positive economic growth following the agreements. The most marked example was Mozambique, which had a high and constant growth rate for almost twenty years. Northern Ireland, on the other hand, while faring somewhat better than Britain as such, was badly hit by the recession from 2008 onwards.7Cambodia’s economic growth took place in ways that were more controlled by the governing circles (going from being ‘roving’ to ‘stationary’ bandits, as said in the contribution8), which means with a long-term interest in the country’s development in ways that would line their pockets. El

Guardado et al, 2018 “Quality peace in post-civil war settings: the role of local institutions”, in Joshi and Wallensteen 2018, pp. 75–90. 7 Colin Knox 2018 “Quality peace: a Northern Ireland case study” in Joshi and Wallensteen 2018, pp. 235–256. 8 Kheang Un 2018. “Quality Peace in Cambodia: 20 years after the Paris Peace Agreement”, in Joshi and Wallensteen, pp. 197–211, quote from page 201. 6

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The Five Dimensions

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Salvador’s economy also improved and poverty was somewhat reduced, but such progress was hardly on par with other South American countries.9 Thus, among the five dimensions, two strongly emerge as significant for durable peace: governance and security. Both of them could be described as traditional factors. It still gives us reason to ponder on the quality of that peace, which is more likely to emerge from the way the economy is mastered, popular participation can be expressed, and the way recent history is approached. In particular, it raises questions of relative importance as well as sequences: what comes first and with what weight?

23.3

Sequences and Weight of the Dimensions

These investigations suggest that security and governance belong to the primary issues that are tackled after a peace agreement. However, it is hard to say that there is a simple sequence where these dimensions always “come first”. On the contrary, many things have to take place almost simultaneously and in ways, which support each other. It is illustrated by the dimension of economic growth, which certainly is significant, but may be particularly important when we discuss quality peace; basic material requirements of life get sufficient attention. Several authors underline the importance of the peace dividend and of ensuring that promises of improved living conditions are met. The two chapters on the economic dimension of quality peace differ somewhat on which strategy is preferred for jumpstarting economic development: international assistance or local business entrepreneurship? It may be of less significance which one is emphasized, as long as there is some success to report. However, during negotiations and in the period immediately following the peace agreement, development funds are more useful and often more readily available, as exemplified in the case of Mozambique. Examining the contribution of civil society to quality peace is somewhat challenging because there was no vibrant non-governmental society during some of peace processes that were studied. In the post-Cold War period, there has been a remarkable growth in the number of civil society organizations (CSO)s, whether local, national, or international. Such organizations may raise issues that many governments would prefer to neglect in the political process, such as issues of reconciliation and truth. These are also novel concerns that were not part of peace processes 25 years ago; for examples, the importance of justice and, as mentioned, the rise of civil society are recent developments that may support each other. Not only has this resulted in the creation of the International Criminal Court (ICC) but has also led to investigations of crimes that occurred many years ago. One example is Kenya, where actions by British soldiers in the war against the uprisings (the

Dinorah Azpuru 2018. “El Salvador 20 years later: Successful democratization but questionable peace” in Joshi and Wallensteen, pp. 212–234.

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Mau-Mau rebellion) in the 1950s have led to court cases in the 2010s that acknowledged wrongdoing.10 These developments suggest that both civil society and justice/reconciliation should remain part of what we mean by quality peace, despite the fact that they may not have been important in the older peace processes selected for this study. There are also some challenges for how investigations into war crimes should be done. The findings on retraumatization of victims suggest the need for counseling as part of the any public reconciliation or truth-telling process.11 Such a concern can also become an argument against the benefit of such processes. For instance, in the case of Northern Ireland there is a reluctance to allow access to archives as it may open old wounds. Politically, this may be seen as unproblematic in the short term, particularly as reports suggest that tensions have eased between the two population groups. However, waiting 50 or 60 years for some element of truth and justice, as occurred in the Kenyan case, is likely to be untenable and increasingly unacceptable. The time has come for political leaders to confront difficult issues, as reconciliation and justice processes, or refusing to undergo such processes may have important effects on the quality of future relations between groups and individuals. The same may be true for the issue of security equality.12 None of the case studies have taken up this issue; however, security for men and women should, of course, be a concern for society as a whole. Quality peace cannot be achieved if there is only protection for former warriors and financial incentives for them to find jobs. There must also be concern for security issues in other sectors of society and an effort to address the needs of all soldiers and victims. Thus, we conclude that all the five dimensions are significant, but that the temporal sequence and the inter-linkages need to be explored. Some of them are focusing on agency (e.g. the role of civil society), other on substance (type of economic growth, form of reconciliation), other are more structural (constitutions, disarmament). The complexities abound and should be addressed in further work.

10

Decision by the UK Government in 2013, see, for example, https://www.bbc.com/news/uk22790037. 11 Karen Brounéus and Holly L. Guthry 2019. “The challenges of reconciling tradition with Truth and Reconciliation Commission processes: the case of Solomon Islands,” in Joshi and Wallensteen pp. 135–147. See also David Backer “Factoring transitional justice into the quality peace equation” in Joshi and Wallensteen, pp. 121–134. 12 Louise Olsson 2018 “Same peace – different quality? The importance of security equality for quality peace.” in Joshi and Wallensteen, pp. 44–58.

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23.4

Methodological Requirements

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Methodological Requirements

The different contributions vary with respect to methodology. With a novel concept, such as quality peace, this is a necessity. For instance, the contribution by Mac Ginty is more conceptual, while Guardado et al. pursues a statistical study of one element with respect to local governance.13 It points out that the data requirements for dealing with the dimensions of quality peace that we have introduced here. They are more demanding than what is readily available today. Thus, a further development of data collection is necessary for moving deeper into the dimensions of quality peace. And indeed, to demonstrate this is also one of the purposes of this volume: There is more insight today, but the resources available to the scholarly community are still far from meeting such demands. There are also other methodological challenges. The further down the timeline one goes, the more difficult it becomes to establish a direct (and sometimes even an indirect) connection between events happening in a post-conflict country and the implementation of a peace agreement. Thus, there is a need for theoretical elaboration. An example was just mentioned: the issue of reconciliation. Political and strategic concerns may motivate a postponement of activities such as crimes of different sorts, associated with the previous regime or with the war. However, the issues are likely to linger and affect the way the post-war society is constructed. But if there is no return to this issue, the dangers of romanticizing a country’s history and its earlier leaders may become apparent. The evils will be overlooked and only achievements considered positive reproduced. For instance, Russia’s remembrance of Stalin stands in contrast to Germany’s approach to the crimes of Hitler. Similarly, Finland continuous to have difficulties in confronting the atrocities of the civil war in 1918. It is a methodological challenge, but, as a distinct issue area, matters of reconciliation may have a coherence transcending decades. The study of memory needs to be part of the search for quality peace. Other dimensions have such coherence across time such as the dynamics of economics. The time dimension is particularly interesting in view of the time lines suggested for economies to recover. They may be in terms of 15–30 years (World Bank 2011). Under which circumstances, one may ask, will it be possible for states to maintain growth during such long periods of time? The results may not be apparent until after many years, giving rise to popular discontent and elite infighting. It points to the problem of regime coherence, i.e. the ability of leading circles to maintain sufficient consensus on a particular policy for a sufficiently long time. In Mozambique and Cambodia, for instance, the same party has retained political power for the entire period after the peace agreement. It adds to such an economic coherence. Obviously, this element among the quality peace dimension may, thus, stand in conflict with the one of governance, or at least democratic forms of governance. El Salvador saw a sharp political shift approximately fifteen years into its post-war recovery, when a rebel leader was elected. Northern Ireland has 13

Mac Ginty 2018 op. cit. and Guardado et al, 2018, op.cit.

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had some shifts in the governing coalition. This is a good test of the democratic strength of the society. Mozambique and Cambodia still face such a transition. There are recent events in both countries that challenge the ability of these societies to manage this in a peaceful way. Indeed, having the same party and leaders at the helm for several decades is likely to cement authoritarianism and stimulate corruption, factors that will undermine the legitimacy of a regime, but perhaps also of the entire post-accord political order. The studies reported in here demonstrate that the notion of quality peace begs new and important questions and raises challenges of measurement. Northern Ireland is one of the most researched conflict processes and there is, seemingly, an abundance of data that can be used for studies. However, it is also important to look at other contexts if we want to draw general conclusions.

23.5

Moving Forward

To move forward in understanding quality peace, there is a need to sharpen the definitions, evaluate whether the five dimensions comprise the most important elements of quality peace, locate sources of information, and above all, make clear that such information is actually relevant for our purposes, as is pointed out by Mac Ginty.14 Indeed, quality peace may allow more pluralistic thinking about what “quality” could mean in different societies, from The Solomon Islands to Northern Ireland, and from El Salvador to Cambodia. For how long should a peace process be seen as active? PAM has used the criterion of a ten-year cut-off, but indeed peace agreements are documents with a longer life, even if references to them gradually become more ceremonial than real. If we want to understand and explain the longevity of peace, it might be more important to have qualitative criteria, such as whether the agreement stands the test of dramatic political changes or not, e.g. change of government, new security challenges, discomforting revelations about the past, serious economic crises, etc. In general, these studies point to a longer time period than ten years. Economic recovery may take 15–30 years; reconciliation process may need a similar time horizon. The same is true for governance: a truly anchored political system is one that can withstand repeated changes of government in a substantial way (going from left to right, for instance). Civil society needs time to develop and solidify its legitimacy. Similarly, the sense of security will take time to root; the longer a war has gone on. The revolutionary change is the one when the actors no longer conceive of solving internal political disputes with weapons. This means a transition from a society where power and security is a zero-sum-game to one where there is growth for all with security for all. It may be at least a generational matter, perhaps even longer if there are temporary relapses into violence. It has been done,

14

Mac Ginty, 2018 op.cit.

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Moving Forward

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and it can be repeated. In Mozambique, Renamo briefly returned to armed conflict in 2013 out of frustration of Frelimo’s dominance in post-accord years. Likewise the 2015 political crisis tested Burundi’s peace process as the president targeted violence against opponents that objected to constitutional changes that would allow the incumbent to run for a third-term.15 Certainly, the building of quality peace needs support. The regional setting is important. Regions with considerable experience of recent violence are likely to be unsettled for a considerable period of time. Regions, which have left violence, may have a greater chance of not relapsing. An instructive comparison may be Central America versus the Arab World, or East Asia before and after 1980. The study of quality peace is a large agenda that involves many dimensions. The five we have highlighted here belong to the core. It is also important to have a long-term perspective, even beyond the twenty years applied in some of these studies. This provides for theoretical challenges (how do factors relate to one another?), practical questions (in which sequence should they most appropriately be tackled?) and for historical awareness (what is the time perspectives researchers and practitioners should apply?). The importance of the topic justifies asking large questions and finding at least partial answers.

References Anheier, Helmut K. 2004. Civil Society: Measurement, Evaluation, Policy, London: Earthscan. Edwards, Michael (ed) 2011. The Oxford Handbook on Civil Society. New York: Oxford University. Joshi, Madhav, Jason Michael Quinn, and Patrick M. Regan 2015. “Annualized implementation data on comprehensive intrastate peace accords, 1989–2012.” Journal of Peace Research 52 (4): 551–562. Madhav Joshi and Peter Wallensteen 2018 (eds) Understanding Quality Peace. Peacebuilding after Civil War, London: Routledge. Wallensteen, Peter. 2015. Quality Peace: Peacebuilding, Victory and World Order. Oxford University Press. World Bank. World development report 2011: Conflict, security, and development. World Bank, 2011.

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See for instance https://www.crisisgroup.org/africa/central-africa/burundi/burundi-dangerousthird-term.

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Gendering Global Agendas

In 2011 three women were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, Tawakkol Karman, Yemen (with my book in Arabic), and Leymah Gbowee, Liberia, came to Uppsala, December 2011. Photo: From the author’s personal photo collection

Chapter 24

Resolution 1325 (2000): A Note on Its Background Peter Wallensteen

Abstract On October 31, 2000, the UN Security Council passed the significant resolution 1325 on women’s role in peace processes. Few had anticipated that the resolution would be historic. This is the first time that it is explained how it connects to a research project on gender mainstreaming at the Department of Peace and Conflict Research at Uppsala University.

24.1

Gender in the 1990s

On October 31, 2000, the UN Security Council passed resolution 1325 on the role of women in peace processes, peacekeeping, peacebuilding and other issues relating to armed conflict. The resolution was based on previous UN conferences as well as recent research.1 Particularly important was the UN Fourth World Conference on Women in Beijing in 1995. It became a turning point for the global agenda for gender equality with many strong statements, for instance, by First Lady of the United States Hillary Clinton: “If there is one message that echoes forth from this conference, it is that human rights are women's rights. ... And women's rights are human rights.”2 The Beijing Declaration and the Platform for Action, which were adopted unanimously by 189 countries, were basic policy documents concerning women’s empowerment; and they also stressed issues such as violence against women, women in armed conflict and the importance of promoting “women’s contribution to fostering a culture of peace.”3

This is the first time the story of the academic background of 1325 is told. The present text develops my speech at the 20th anniversary of 1325 at the Canadian Embassy in Stockholm, March 4, 2020. For a detailed presentation of the resolution, see Nina J. Lahoud 2020 “What Fueled the Far-Reaching Impact of the Windhoek Declaration and Namibia Plan of Action as a Milestone for Gender Mainstreaming in UN Peace Support Operations and Where Is Implementation 20 Years Later?” Journal of International Peacekeeping, Vol. 24, pp. 1–52. 2 Delivered on September 5, 1995, https://www.un.org/esa/gopher-data/conf/fwcw/conf/gov/ 950905175653.txt. 3 See in particular section E of Chapter IV Strategic Objectives and Actions: https://www.un.org/ en/events/pastevents/pdfs/Beijing_Declaration_and_Platform_for_Action.pdf. 1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_24

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For the new UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan, beginning his term in 1997, these documents obviously constituted an important inspiration. He appointed Angela King as his Special Advisor on Gender Issues and the Advancement of Women. At that time, the UN was operating an unprecedented number of peacekeeping missions around the world. As Annan had been the head of the Department of Peacekeeping Operations (DPKO) it was natural for him to emphasize the inclusion of gender perspectives also for peacekeeping forces. Although the main focus of Uppsala University’s Department of Peace and Conflict Research (DPCR) was conflict negotiations, prevention and resolution, there also existed a keen interest in peacekeeping with an ongoing discussion concerning the performance and behavior of peacekeepers. What kind of misdeeds could take place? Did the troops respect the integrity of the civilian population and how did the soldiers interact with local women? The mandates of the UN peacekeeping missions were constantly broadening to include humanitarian affairs, child soldiers and disarmament as well as the support of various peace efforts. From the original Hammarskjöld focus on separation of fighting parties, peacekeeping became multidimensional and renamed “peace operations.”4

24.2

A Project on Gender and Peacekeeping Operations

DPKO had a special Lessons Learned Unit (LLU) with Dr. Leonard Kapungu as its chief. I had gotten to know Kapungu, as we both had done research on economic sanctions. Thus, I was not surprised when he contacted me in 1998. More intriguing was the topic of the proposed project: gender mainstreaming in peace operations.5 Kapungu had found support for this assignment in the Swedish Ministry for Foreign Affairs and DPCR declared itself ready to serve as an academic basis for such an activity. Two Ph.D. candidates, Louise Olsson and Ylva Blondel, took on the job with assistance from a former DPCR student, Gerd Johnsson, at the Ministry for Foreign Affairs. The project formally began with a workshop in Uppsala in June 1999. King and Kapungu were present, as well as Professor J. Ann Tickner whose book Gender in International Affairs (1992) had generated global attention. The vision was that the project ought to be finalized in time for the Beijing + 5 Conference scheduled for June 2000.6

4

An example was given by the Security Council Presidential statement on March 23, 2000, see https://undocs.org/S/PRST/2000/10. Bangladesh was President of the Council in March 2000. 5 Leonard Kapungu was asked directly by Kofi Annan to set up this project. Sweden was also the main funder of the Lessons Learned Unit. Kapungu in personal communication, May 2020. 6 For a report, see Olsson, Louise et al. 1999 “Executive Summary. Preparatory Workshop on Mainstreaming a Gender Perspective in Multidimensional Peacekeeping Operations,” Uppsala University.

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A Project on Gender and Peacekeeping Operations

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The workshop in Uppsala was held on June 1-3, 1999.7 It focused on an inventory of relevant research as well as objectives and practices concerning gender mainstreaming in existing UN peace operations. Lessons were drawn from major missions in Angola, Cambodia, Namibia and former Yugoslavia. These efforts were largely military, although their intent increasingly had become more humanitarian. In other words, the workshop dealt both with gender mainstreaming as seen at the UN Headquarters as well as implementation in the field. At UN Headquarters the lack of women in decision-making was apparent. The workshop participants regarded this as a deliberate neglect of female candidates, for instance in appointments of Special Representatives of the Secretary-General. The participants disapproved of the ‘there are no qualified women’ argument and presented measures that could enhance the selection of female candidates. Research demonstrated that only a few women (‘tokenism’) would not make a difference. A change in culture and behavior would require 40 to 60 percent women in leading positions. This would result in peace operations catering to the needs of women and children and attending to gender equality in a variety of aspects. With regard to peace operations in the field, a larger participation of women, it was argued, was likely to contribute to a mission’s ability to reach out to women in the local communities, thus changing the relationship between the UN and the community. Prostitution, rape, and child abuse had at times tainted the missions’ relations to local populations. The workshop participants objected to the UN’s acceptance of contingents from countries without strong laws protecting the rights of women and many advocated a special code of conduct for UN troops. Based on these discussions the Uppsala workshop designed a series of research projects to be completed by the spring of 2000. In accordance with an agreed schedule these reports were presented at a final workshop in Windhoek, Namibia, at the end of May 2000. This was particularly fitting, as Namibia’s experience with UN peace operations was the topic of one of the studies.8 The project’s final workshop took place May 29–31, 2000, in Windhoek, Namibia – where the nation was celebrating its 10th year as an independent state. It was planned to consist of traditional presentations of various case studies and accompanying policy-relevant implications. During the first day of the workshop, however, Kapungu who was the chair of the meeting, was called away by the Secretary-General. The participants had to select a new chairperson. The choice fell on one of the most experienced attendees, Dame Margaret Anstee. She had a distinguished career in international service. She

For a report, see Louise Olsson et al., 1999. “Executive Summary. Preparatory Workshop on Gender Mainstreaming a Gender Perspective in Multidimensional Peacekeeping Operations,” Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University. See also Louise Olsson &Torunn L. Tryggestad 2001. “Introduction,” International Peacekeeping, 8:2, 1-8 and Louise Olsson and Theodora-Ismene Gizelis 2013. “An Introduction to UNSCR 1325,” International Interactions 39 (4): 425–434. 8 Louise Olsson 2001. “Gender mainstreaming in practice: The United Nations transitional assistance group in Namibia,” International Peacekeeping, 8:2, 97–110. 7

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was the first woman to be a UN Under-Secretary-General (1987) and the first woman to lead a UN Peacekeeping Operation (in Angola 1992–93). Dame Margaret immediately suggested a very different type of report. During a conversation with Namibian Minister for Women’s Affairs Netumbo Nandi-Ndaitwah at the beginning of the workshop Anstee had been inspired to create an “action report”, rather than a regular academic summary. As the composition of participants in Windhoek was similar to the one at the earlier Uppsala workshop, the idea was found to be doable. There was a mix of academics and practitioners (civilian as well as military), men and women, all with different geographical backgrounds. As I was responsible for the Swedish grant financing the project I had to make sure that there was support for this change of plans also within the Swedish Ministry for Foreign Affairs.

24.3

From Research Report to Action Plan

The workshop was divided into several working groups, which met the following day, while their different conclusions were consolidated into a document presented on the third and final day.9 The three days were filled with intensive discussions and dedicated deliberations. At one point, for example, Anstee contended that women could very well lead men into combat. A high-ranking officer got upset and asked: But Margaret, do you really mean that women could lead military operations?

His statement was made with a strong emphasis on the word “women”, stressing what he obviously found to be a preposterous proposition. Anstee responded quickly and with a smile: My dear General, I have seen so many men shiver on their way into battle. Women could at least do equally well.

The officer, who did not reply, seemed not to be convinced. All participants were happy with the final document, which contained 38 propositions summarized under nine different headings. These covered, for example, mandates for peace operations, recruitment and training of peacekeepers, leadership qualities and peace agreements. It finished with suggestions for monitoring, evaluation and further research. Anstee proposed a sophisticated name and the document was proudly termed the Windhoek Declaration and Namibia Plan of Action for Gender Mainstreaming in Multidimensional Peacekeeping Operations. It was agreed by all participants that the material should be brought to the UN Security Council – in which Namibia was an elected member and also the chair in

9

For details, see Lahoud 2020.

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From Research Report to Action Plan

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October 2000. Thus, the Declaration including the Action Plan was officially submitted to the Council in July 2000.10 Resolution 1325 was passed unanimously by the Security Council under Chapter VI on the very last day of Namibia’s presidency. Anstee later commented that “The minister was as good as her word and Resolution 1325 was passed on 31 October 2000 with our two documents annexed.”11 Along with Namibia, Bangladesh was particularly supportive as the country was a major supplier of peacekeepers and thus concerned. Western countries were also encouraging gender mainstreaming. The United States, with Bill Clinton as its president, was an example. For the proponents it was important that the resolution be not just a proposal supported by the West; thus the roles of Namibia and Bangladesh were crucial.12 It takes considerable diplomacy and a variety of actions to move from document to decision. It is fair to say that Resolution 1325 could not have been possible without substantial lobbying directed at the members of the Security Council by several women’s organizations – a demonstration of the importance of active efforts in order to make a difference. It proved that civil society could have an impact.13 The Security Council may be a body founded on Realpolitik, but it needs constructive input. This indicates that the Council actually takes on an Idealpolitik role as its decisions contribute to set standards and norms for the international community.14 Resolution provisions are not only manifestations of concern, but may also, if included under Chapter VII, become binding and compulsory for the UN as well as for the world as a whole. Consequently, deciding on new resolutions under Chapter VII is a veritable challenge as this entails that member states are obliged to act accordingly—and that, if they do not, they can be exposed to sanctions from the Council. That was not on the minds of anyone in 2000—and there were even those who feared that such a course of action could weaken rather than strengthen the gender dimension in peacemaking.

10

This document is A/55/138 S/2000/693. Downloaded, May 18, 2020 from https://www. securitycouncilreport.org/atf/cf/%7B65BFCF9B-6D27-4E9C-8CD3-CF6E4FF96FF9%7D/WPS% 20S%202000%20693.pdf. 11 See Dame Margaret Anstee’s account 2011: https://www.una.org.uk/magazine/summer-2011/ one-womans-experience-un. 12 Gerd Johnsson-Latham, personal communication, May 18, 2020. 13 See also Lahoud 2020. 14 On Realpolitik and Idealpolitik, see Wallensteen, Peter 1981, ”Four Models of Major Power Politics: Geopolitik, Realpolitik, Idealpolitik and Kapitalpolitik“, reproduced in this volume, Chapter 15. See also pages 59–64 in “Incompatibility, Confrontation and War: Four Models and Three Historical Systems, 1816–1976,” Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 18 (1): 57–90.

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Resolution 1325 (2000): A Note on Its Background

Comparing the Declaration and the Resolution

There are striking similarities between the Windhoek Declaration and the Security Council Resolution. Obviously the latter is not simply a replication, as there are some noticeable differences. Resolution 1325 is very precise and specific partly because it links to a research project using explicit language and terminology. With an emphasis on clear-cut definitions of issues and empirical observations, the Windhoek Declaration also introduced a number of propositions concerning further study and research. As many workshop participants had a background in the UN Secretariat a number of suggestions also concerned different functions within the headquarters. These conclusions actually had little to do with research but still were of importance as they emanated from practical experiences within a complex bureaucracy. The Windhoek Declaration focuses mainly on peacekeeping, while the Security Council Resolution is considerably wider in its ambition. The Declaration includes 38 specific proposals while the Resolution contains 20, but more far-reaching, propositions. The Resolution clearly capitalized on the Declaration. However, it is noticeable that in spite of the fact that it had broader goals it refrained from including a number of proposals from the Windhoek workshop. Three examples indicate similarities between the Resolution and the Declaration: • In Resolution 1325 the Council “Urges Member States to ensure increased representation of women at all decision-making levels in national, regional and international institutions and mechanisms for the prevention, management, and resolution of conflict” [Italics from the original text]. The Declaration says “Equal access and participation by women and men should be ensured in the area of conflict at all levels and stages of the peace process”. There are striking parallels between the two documents, notably the reference to “all levels”, although the word “participation” is replaced by “representation.” • Resolution 1325 “Urges the Secretary-General to appoint more women as special representatives and envoys to pursue good offices on his behalf” [Italics from the original text]. The Declaration states that “more determined efforts must be made to select and appoint female Special Representatives of the Secretary-General and senior field staff for peace support operations.” It is clear that both documents stress the importance of changed recruitment procedures. • The Resolution calls on “Member States to provide candidates to the Secretary-General, for inclusion in a regularly updated centralized roster.” This reflects a corresponding statement in the Declaration: “A comprehensive database with information specifically on female candidates with qualifications both military and civilian, should be maintained.”

24.4

Comparing the Declaration and the Resolution

481

These are strong arguments against the opinion that there do not exist qualified female candidates to recruit. It is also interesting to observe differences. Within the Uppsala project and at the workshop in Windhoek obvious fears, based on research findings, were expressed that gender affairs would not be taken seriously without a special UN unit assigned to the task. In fact there was total agreement on the need for such a unit in order to avoid marginalization whether in organizations or in operations. Thus, the Declaration emphasized this: “A gender affairs unit is crucial for effective gender mainstreaming and should be a standard component of all missions. It should be adequately funded and staffed at appropriate levels and should have direct access to senior decision-makers” [Italics added by the author]. Resolution 1325 avoided the issue by only mentioning the Council’s willingness “to incorporate a gender perspective into peacekeeping operations, and urges the Secretary-General to ensure that, where appropriate, field operations include a gender component.” The words “where appropriate” certainly weakened the commitment. This demonstrates that the Declaration, with its foundation in both research and practice, was ahead of its time.

24.5

Concluding Observations

The Windhoek Declaration and Namibia Plan of Action for Gender Mainstreaming in Multidimensional Peacekeeping Operations and all the steps involved in the preparation of the document clearly made the UN Security Council aware of what would be required to pursue a purposeful policy of gender mainstreaming. Research and enlightened practice had an impact. The resulting UN Security Council Resolution 1325 became a historic contribution and remains one of the Council’s most well-known resolutions. It did not go as far as the researchers and practitioners involved would have wanted, but definitely advanced gender equality in peacemaking and continues to be important although not yet fully implemented. With all new findings and facts in current research reports concerning, for instance, the connection between gender and peace, and challenges to the understanding of traditional masculinity, it is tempting to ask how a resolution similar to 1325 in the year 2021 would be formulated.

Chapter 25

Alva Myrdal’s Approach to International Disarmament Peter Wallensteen

Abstract From the 1960s to the end of the 1980s the nuclear threat was central in public concern for global peace. There were international negotiations on this topic, to prevent further testing and halt the arms race. Alva Myrdal was vigorously pursuing these issues both at the table as the Swedish chief negotiator in the disarmament talks and in the political arena educating the public on the dangers. Myrdal was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for her efforts. In this article from 2002 Peter Wallensteen seeks to highlight her approach to nuclear disarmament.

25.1

The Role of Alva Myrdal

For twenty years, Swedish Ambassador and Cabinet Member Alva Myrdal devoted much of her energy to international disarmament efforts.1 At the same time, this might have been the one area were less was achieved during her lifetime than in any of all her other tremendous activities as a social reformer in the country.2 The nuclear weapons arsenals kept building up. The major powers talked about the need for nuclear disarmament, while in reality pouring larger resources into the search for even more destructive weaponry. This was a sad experience and made her disillusioned. Her victory in nuclear disarmament came after she died. A year later, in 1987, the first nuclear disarmament agreement was outlined, by the same nuclear powers she had been wrestling with. A year later the first concrete elimination of a category of nuclear weapons was initiated. She did not live to see such results, but it may suggest that her strategy for disarmament was not so flawed after

This is a slighted edited reproduction of my article “Rationality, Alternative Security and the People: Alva Myrdal’ Approach to Disarmament, in Wallensteen, Peter (ed) Alva Myrdal in International Affairs, Uppsala. Uppsala Publishing House 2003, pp. 11–21. Republished with permission. This volume on Alva Myrdal emerged from the conference in 2002 on what would have been Myrdal’s 100th anniversary. 2 This was something she observed herself on departing as Minister for Disarmament, see Sissela Bok 1991, Alva Myrdal. A Daughter’s Memoirs, Perseus Publishing, Cambridge, MA, p. 302. 1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_25

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all. Also Jan Prawitz points to some other negotiated achievements, however late they were in coming.3 The grand book that Alva Myrdal wrote, very much in the Myrdalian belief in the nexus of “heavy work – heavy impact”, The Game of Disarmament, makes clear all the missed opportunities in international disarmament negotiations. There were many times when the negotiators and the neutral countries had brought the nuclear powers close to agreement, only to see them back away at the last moment. Alva Myrdal could observe the strange movements among powerful states where they always found ways in which not to shake hands and conclude the agreements that seemed so obvious. A now classical example is when the two sides, East and West, could not agree on the number of annual inspections required by a complete nuclear test ban. One side was willing to accept at most three; the other demanded at least seven. The obvious compromise was five. Myrdal, realizing that simplicity could be offensive, suggested thirty-five inspections in seven years. Even to this the powers could not say ‘yes’.4 But the example illustrates that she operated with diplomatic smartness, when needed. She was, in other words, a skillful negotiator and the lack of result may stem from other circumstances than her persuasiveness. Myrdal’s approach to disarmament, development and international affairs was one of reason and moral.5 It was reasonable to reduce, and eventually, eliminate nuclear weapons. It was also morally correct to do this, as the perils nuclear weapons inflicted on all members of the planet were unjustifiable. In this respect, she approached this field in the same way as other political activities. In her notes to the press conference when The Game of Disarmament was presented to the public in 1976 she emphasized that this big book, which in the Swedish edition was 444 pages, was a pamphlet (“kampskrift”) for the return to reason and moral in international politics. A heavy pamphlet, no doubt, and indeed, it had an impact. It was read the world over.6 It remains relevant reading for those interested in nuclear armament and disarmament. Let us look at three typical strands of action that she pursued. They do remain relevant today: the resort to economic reason, the search for alternative forms of security and the appeal to a broader audience. They constitute key approaches to a reformist agenda in political affairs in general. Alva Myrdal made them applicable to a hitherto secluded area of public life.

Jan Prawitz 2003, “Arms Controller Alva Myrdal – Word Power for World Politics,” in Wallensteen, Peter (ed) Alva Myrdal in International Affairs, Uppsala Publishing House pp. 55– 67. 4 Prawitz 2003, pp. 59–60. 5 Sondra Herman “Solidarity Abroad: Alva Myrdal’s Campaign for the Developing Nations” in Wallensteen 2003, op.cit., pp. 23–41 demonstrates this approach also to development affairs. 6 It was actually written in English, although the Swedish translation came out before the English original. 3

25.2

25.2

Strand I: An Appeal to Economic Reason!

485

Strand I: An Appeal to Economic Reason!

The first unreasonable aspect of nuclear weapons was the cost: the huge resources that were being spent showed simply the wrong, even immoral, priorities, of a world with many more pressing needs than armaments. This is the message she communicated to the public, and it may well have been driving her also in the negotiations in Geneva, although they were conducted on different, more technical arguments. It was important to estimate the costs of the arms race. That also meant she needed researchers to give the necessary facts. Thus, peace research became significant for her. She was the engine behind the creation of SIPRI, the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, which began its operations in 1966. The most frequent references in The Game of Disarmament go to publications from SIPRI, showing not only that she was happy to have contributed to its creation, but also that it was a useful institution, not just a memorial.7 In its design, SIPRI had the Myrdal approach of generating impact through reason, fact and books. Well-respected scholarly work would, she appeared to say, have an impact almost by its own persuasive power. Indeed, this is a dream of many a scholar. She combined the role of scholar and diplomat in an unusual way. A standing feature in the SIPRI yearbooks has been the section of military expenditures. It provided information that could be transmitted to a larger audience. She made use of that section as well as a lot of other information produced from researchers.8 From this concern with economics, one could develop a general hypothesis: disarmament negotiations would be more likely to succeed, if the parties agree that the costs are too heavy, and that they lead to wrong priorities in society. This is a researchable proposition. There is much to say in favor of such a statement. Financial considerations are important for governments and the needs for reform in a society are always generating pressures that governments have to take account of. The proposition can be tested also in other types of international negotiations. Unfortunately, for much of the time that Alva Myrdal was involved in disarmament negotiations, budget constraints were not a basic consideration of the parties. Their economies seemed to be doing well and resource scarcities were not seen to create barriers on military expenditures. The potential, hidden ‘alliance’ between disarmers and Ministers of Finance could not be built under such circumstances.

7

Officially, SIPRI was created to commemorate Sweden’s 1964 record of 150 years of continuous peace. 8 She was also positive to peace research in other setting than SIPRI. For instance, she was highly supportive of the groups of young peace researchers that were around in Swedish universities at the time. She made sure that the report on the creation of SIPRI did not prevent the simultaneous emergence of university-based peace research. It was in that context the present author had the pleasure of first meeting Alva Myrdal.

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The argument, in other words, might be stronger, once the resources were more limited. At the end of Alva Myrdal’s life, economic and financial strains could actually be observed in the major powers. Groups interested in economic well-being began to see that the arms expenditures were reaching such magnitudes that both sides might have an interest in some restrictions, in order to reduce the burden on the civil economy. This implies that Myrdal’s suggested economic rationality might work in times of economic constraints. Those were not there during the 1960s and 1970s, but emerged in the 1980s, in particular in the Soviet Union. This is not the full story of how a change came about, however. Paradoxically, another lesson in the disarmament studies has been that reductions in arms production (the operational meaning of disarmament) are sometimes politically more difficult to achieve in times of economic downturn. It is often feared that such reductions will contribute to a decline in consumption and rise in unemployment. This dynamic is often seen when military bases are in danger of being closed. Local communities will defend ‘their’ regiments and military installations, although their closure might be rational on a national level to achieve the necessary reductions of government expenditures in this field.9 Different rationalities are at work. Perhaps, in the end, Myrdal’s emphasis on the cost factor was less a political statement, more a general or even moral one. By pointing to the priorities, it may have helped to clarify the immorality of armament. This could be a way of reaching a concerned general public whereas discussions on the budgetary constraints of the governments would not. Her position would also prevent her from commenting on other country’s budgeting in more detail. For instance, she did not participate in Swedish national or local debates on particular government defense measures. She kept her agenda an international one. The issues of the defense burden on national expenditures are still part of our time. With renewed nuclear weapons efforts, particular in some nuclear states such as the USA, India and Pakistan, they are bound to make themselves felt. The economic reality will make that obvious. The relationship between armaments and development/underdevelopment gain in importance when the world is setting an ambitious goal of reducing the level of poverty by half in year 2015, as was done in the Millennium declaration in the UN in year 2000. Some regions, such as the Middle East, South Asia and Africa are likely to see the connections more closely than others.

9

Much national debate on defence expenditures illustrates this, where local members of the governing party may abstain or vote against their own government, in order to retain their local credentials. See Wallensteen, P. (ed). 1978. Experiences in Disarmament. On Conversion of Military Industry and Closing of Military Bases, Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University. See also Chapter 28 in this volume.

25.3

25.3

Strand II: There Must Be Alternative Ways to Security!

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Strand II: There Must Be Alternative Ways to Security!

The second unreasonable aspect of the nuclear arms race, according to Myrdal, was the claim that new weapons enhanced security of the inhabitants. In reality, she argued, it created more insecurity. Not only did the weapons threaten the safety of the opponent, but through the counter-actions of the opponent, also the security of one’s own side. It was not a rational security policy. Equally much or even more security could be provided on lower levels of armament. Some form of minimal dissuasion without nuclear weapons would achieve better results. This meant that security could be built in other ways: there were alternatives. This approach, however, is difficult to pursue at a disarmament negotiation. It is a matter that belongs to the agenda of governments, not negotiators. This may not have been a complexity, however, that Myrdal would pay much attention to. The rationality, in a sense, would transcend the contextual and diplomatic restrictions. It leads to other problems, however, as disarmament agendas are not decided on at the negotiation table, but in the capitals. There, security might be seen in a different light. In fact, a lesson drawn from the resistance that Alva Myrdal encountered is that security, and fear of insecurity, might not necessarily and always stem only from the threat of weapons. The centers, the capitals, of the negotiating sides may have other concerns. The fear of war originates in conflicts within and between societies. Very few serious conflicts are true misunderstandings. Real issues are involved. Sometimes these may be more basic to the parties and would then need to be treated separately or in parallel to the disarmament issue. This was rarely part of Myrdal’s explicit agenda. Her job was to provide a brake on the continued arms race. The opposition to disarmament was not only a matter of prevailing over the opponent in the debate. Those opposing disarmament might be driven by fears or calculations, where disarmament did not fit. This would mean that the priorities for the primary parties, the nuclear weapon states, might not have been what they stated in their speeches or even in official negotiation positions. Ambassador Maj-Britt Theorin has given a short account of how Myrdal in 1963 was opposed by the British government. It acted directly on the Swedish Prime Minister, to prevent her from pursuing her particular line on the inspections needed for a full test ban agreement.10 Archival research now shows that this was even more complex. It appears that all the major powers conducting nuclear tests at the time (USA, UK, USSR) were against pursuing the Swedish idea of a complete test ban. It is, no doubt, difficult for a government of a small country to resist such formidable an opposition, however rational and moral the policies might be.11

Maj-Britt Theorin “Alva Myrdal and the Peace Movement” in Wallensteen 2003, op.cit, pp. 43–52. 11 Stellan Andersson “It was M who stopped us!” summarizes this research, see Wallensteen 2003, op.cit, pp. 69–78. 10

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The Swedish Government had to acquiesce. After all, if the three who were supposed to agree did not want to, what could then be done in a negotiation? Disarmament had a political motive that went far beyond the negotiation forum. In reality, Myrdal found herself in the midst of high-level tensions and strategic designs. The three powers concluded a partial test ban, which would allow them to continue nuclear tests underground. An opportunity for a complete halt to nuclear testing was lost. But there were also lessons to be learnt. The arguments for arms reduction needed not only to convince the immediate audience, the negotiators and the experts. It also had to have a hearing in the final decision-making quarters, that is in the capitals and, thus, meet their concern of domestic standing and national security.

25.4

Strand III: Somebody Has to Listen, Find That Audience!

It has been mentioned in many reviews of The Game of Disarmament that Myrdal treated the two sides in the Cold War in a similar manner. This was the way they appeared in the negotiations. The delegations were under strict instructions from their capitals and could rarely sway from official positions. There was a famous exception, in 1982, when two negotiators, one from each side, took a walk in the woods, and designed mutually agreeable solutions on nuclear disarmament measures. They demonstrated that agreement was possible, if agreement was what the parties wanted. The two negotiators quickly learned that this was, in fact, not what their home governments wanted, at that time. Their efforts were undermined in the capitals, not at the negotiation table.12 Many have pointed out that, even if their behavior at the negotiations was similar, one side was Communist and the other was democratic. There could potentially be a difference in the way the public could make itself felt. However, if the public did not pay attention, of course, policies would be formulated in very small circles. In The Game of Disarmament there was recognition of the fact that the democracies are open societies. In particular, Alva Myrdal put great faith in the United States. Its leaders, political decision-makers, academics and trade unionists were people with similar understandings of world priorities. Still, she was frustrated with America’s way of acting. This leads us to the third strand of action, namely that there are limits in what can be achieved through negotiation: Somebody has to listen and be prepared to take the arguments seriously. Democracy gives opportunities for a debate and popular involvement. Lower costs and more security could be calculated and made logical. However, security concerns and disarmament needs would also have to be more immediately felt in order to be credible and to strike a cord for larger parts of the 12

This experience instead, resulted in a popular musical at Broadway, The Walk in the Woods.

25.4

Strand III: Somebody Has to Listen, Find That Audience!

489

population. The sides would have to feel directly threatened from the developments and from the nuclear strategies. Could leaders be threatened into disarmament? It sounds paradoxical. The public might react that way. Clearly, a nuclear crisis would bring home the disarmament message to an attentive public. For much of the 1960s and 1970s, the immediate security concerns rested with other types of conflicts. For the USA it was the involvement in Vietnam, for the Soviet leadership it was to maintain control over Eastern Europe. Only in the 1980s did the urgency of the nuclear threat become obvious. It came about in an unexpected way. At the end of the 1970s, it seems that Alva Myrdal realized that the rational approaches (strands I and II) had to be complemented with political mobilization. There was a need for a new type of political leadership. When presenting The Game of Disarmament to the media Alva Myrdal went in to an argument that soon would have a strong mobilizing effect. She maintained that the two superpowers, the USA and the USSR, were thinking of a limited nuclear war, which would spare them of devastation, and thus, in effect, reserve it for their European allies. This was a shocking proposition. It was hard to believe that the two leading states would not come to the rescue of their allies, but instead actively contain a major war to Western and Central Europe. Strangely, it seemed, her prognosis appeared to fit the facts. Three years after the book was published, the United States and the Soviet Union initiated their own, separate and competing programs of what became known as Euro-missiles. The Soviet side developed a missile, SS-20, which did not reach the American continent, but covered all of Europe from its bases in Russia proper. Thus, Western Europe was from now on a potential target for Soviet nuclear attack, while sparing the United States. The American response was that medium-distance missiles were stationed in Western Germany targeting Eastern Europe and Russia itself. One of these missiles, Pershing II, could be very fast; it would reach its targets in a short time. This meant that it would be important for the Soviet Union to strike as quickly and as hard as possible to prevent its own destruction. Its strategy would in all likelihood be to hit at the bases from which it was the most threatened. It meant that Western Europe and Western Germany in particular, could actually be the battlefield of a limited nuclear war. Deterring the enemy turned into fighting the enemy with nuclear weapons on the soil of others. In this sense, Myrdal’s prognosis seemed to come true.13 Suddenly there was an audience. Her arguments gained new appeal and interest. The scenario of a limited war in Europe unleashed a widespread disarmament movement in Europe, in particular in Germany, and to actions for freezing the nuclear arms race in America itself. Suddenly, the streets were filled with demonstrators, slogans, debates, and innovations in non-violent techniques. Dissent was growing. Close to one million people marched through New York to Central Park in 1982 protesting the new dangers. The rational and moral arguments

13

Theorin 2003 points out that journalists credibly could name cities that would become the targets.

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Alva Myrdal projected were part of the action. The additional factor was the mobilization of large numbers of people. Disarmament was no longer a technical issue for negotiators in distant rooms in UN buildings. It was a matter of life and death. It was in the midst of this surge of disarmament action that Alva Myrdal received her Nobel Peace Prize. She became an important figure and reference person in a sprawling movement. And indeed, politics began to change. The American President of the time, Ronald Reagan became concerned about nuclear matters. There were political reasons, as the opinion was changing.14 There might also be personal reasons.15 Arms should not be limited, Reagan said, they should be reduced and made obsolete. There should be no more arms control or limitations of armaments, arsenals should be eliminated.16 Of course, his approach was also one of building a nuclear shield for the American continent, which would prevent nuclear-tipped missiles to reach American soil. There was a shift in official thinking, however, about the utility of nuclear weapons. Furthermore, the rise to power in the Soviet Union of Mikhail Gorbachev was crucial in achieving political change. This was a person who shared Alva Myrdal’s concern for rationality, although they never met. He wanted to pursue development (of the Soviet state, that is), not destruction. To reduce the Soviet budgets for military expenditure was a way to free resources for civilian expansion. To find other ways of security became important. On both sides, Alva Myrdal’s factors were present: rational costs and rational security concerns, but this time combined with leadership willing to question the utility of more nuclear weapons. Thus, the road was opened to the first real nuclear arms reduction treaty. This was the treaty that abolished the weapons targeted on Europe. Ten years after their existence had been announced, they were actually to be eliminated.17 This was a great achievement, no doubt. It served to reduce tension in Europe. Rationality had won, through political power. Change came from public pressure and from the advent of new leaders, with different ideas and experiences. They were not recruited from inside the nuclear establishment, but had other routes to power and other perspectives on the nuclear issues. Obviously, the powerholders are central in deciding change in the field of security. This was not unknown to Myrdal, of course, but it was seldom present in

14

It is, of course, true that leaders are concerned about their own power. Thus, if there is a large change in sentiments, in this case against the nuclear arms race, it may threaten the power base of leaders. Often, they will have to go along. 15 It is told in the following way. He felt it necessary to inform himself and to undertake the exercise that all Presidents go through: training a nuclear war and making the decision to unleash the American nuclear arsenal. He was, according to several accounts, shocked by having to make such dramatic decisions, and became favourable to the elimination of nuclear weapons. 16 The talks on strategic nuclear weapons were earlier called SALT, where AL stood for 'arms limitations'. It was changed to START, where R stood for ‘reduction’. 17 The treaty of the elimination of Intermediate Nuclear Forces (INF) was concluded in 1987. Through unilateral action by the United States it expired in 2019.

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Strand III: Somebody Has to Listen, Find That Audience!

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her writing. The way change was brought about, through mobilization, was different than the change through the power of enlightened arguments. To her satisfaction, however, slogans and approaches of the disarmament movement were built on competence and skill, not only on frustration.18 Furthermore, the leadership of the popular movements had strong educational background and deep insights in the issues of security. This was a movement she could be happy with. In conclusion we can observe that in the middle of the 1980s, the three strands joined to move large societies towards disarmament: the fear of rising defense costs, the search for alternative forms of security and the rise of competent, popular leadership. Together, they may constitute three necessary components for disarmament. Their significance can be debated today as well. The issues may change but the way news policies are achieved may not. Thus, Alva Myrdal’s approach to disarmament remains valid today, for researchers as well as for reformers.

18

Theorin 2003.

Chapter 26

Gendering International Affairs Peter Wallensteen

Abstract In this chapter from 2019 Peter Wallensteen discusses the connections between gender equality and peace. He does this by noting the role of peace thinking in the early feminist struggles for women’s empowerment. Also recent statistical studies demonstrate a close connection between gender inequality and armed conflict. Wallensteen adds that this is particularly true for some regions. He also points to recent setbacks around the world that may be detrimental to gender equality as well as to global peace.

26.1

Gender and Peace

Many early feminist theoreticians and practitioners expected that an increased role for women in society would also enhance peace.1 Bertha von Suttner, whose bestselling book Down with Arms! from 1889 drew Alfred Nobel’s attention, combined her work for disarmament with a prominent role for women. Many of the women campaigning for voting rights clearly connected their struggle with peace. An example is Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s book Herland from 1915, which provides a peaceful utopia consisting entirely of women. It was written at a time when the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom was formed, by one of Gilman’s contemporary and friends, Jane Addams, who also received the Nobel Peace Prize in 1931 for that work. Indeed, there is a series of women that have received this prize for work on disarmament, beginning vid Bertha von Suttner in 1905, and including, for instance, Alva Myrdal 1982 and, more recently, the International Campaign against Nuclear Weapons, ICAN, in 2017, with a female executive director, Beatrice Fihn. Thus, there is by a long tradition of women pursuing a critical line against militarism and the use of coercive power.

1

This is a slightly edited version of Chapter 13 in my Understanding Conflict Resolution. Fifth Edition, London: Sage 2019, pages 336–346. Republished with permission. I am grateful for conversations and inputs from Louise Olsson and Erik Melander when working on this Chapter. The responsibility for the text remains with me, however. © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_26

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There is also another strand, in some way symbolized by the experience of the Emmeline Pankhurst who led the more militant wing of the suffragette struggle in Britain. When facing the world war in 1914, she was prepared to delay women’s voting rights to allow for united national support for the British war efforts. In a way, this came to identify the struggle of voting rights with a national ambition, at least in times of overwhelming challenges. She is not necessarily unusual. In many conflict situations, women can display as belligerent attitudes and actions as men. Pankhurst resumed her struggle as soon as the war was over, with certain success as some women were granted voting power. However, instead of being the first nation, Britain became one of the last Western societies to extend equal voting rights to men and women (in 1928). Thus, there are different strands, or traditions, in how to relate women’s rights and feminism to issues of violence and war. These topics were to reemerge in the 1970s. This is when Gilman’s work was republished and became more widely read. In the same vein Ann Tickner’s book on Gender in International Relations from 1992 connects her critique of the state and of war making with the need to for peace and gender equality. Obviously, voting rights were, after fifty years of practice, insufficient for achieving equality or peace. There were other measures that had to follow: access to education; equal control over resources; equal pay; equal responsibility; equal protection from violence for men and women; and equal roles in public as well as private life. The quality of the welfare state would naturally be an important concern, as it provides one way for the full participation of women in society as well as requiring a change in the role of men (Connell 1987, 2005). The empowerment of women is, undoubtedly, one of the major historical trends of this age. Here we will explore if (and, if so, why) gender equality may result in more peace rather than fueling nationalism and entrench conflicts within and between societies. Thus, we need to follow recent tendencies with respect to women, gender equality and peace; discuss how this relates to peacemaking efforts; and then look at some of the new perils that are particularly directed at women and which would require a redefinition of the role of men.

26.2

Toward Women’s Empowerment

Clearly the significance of women in society has increased dramatically, particularly since gaining the right of suffrage a century ago. Women now have a role in all walks of life in most societies around the world. It is a strong and formative change, an ongoing (r)evolution in human history. The important message is that women are actors and are accepted as actors in their own right. For achieving social change, this is more important than a previous way of understanding women as victims or ‘bystanders’ of war (which still may be true as women are proportionally more numerous among refugees, among civilians and victims of sexual crimes) or women’s freedom as justification for war (as seen in the claim for defending the

26.2

Toward Women’s Empowerment

495

‘motherland’, the ‘honor’ of the family and nation, or even for achieving their liberation from repression).2 Gender equality is not something that is delivered to a society, it has to be fought for and gained, as suffrage once was. Thus, it makes sense for the international community and for peace efforts to involve women in a serious way. There are important advances in this field. Many followed on the Beijing Declaration and Platform for Action of 1995 and, more specifically when considering peace issues, the formative Security Council Resolution 1325 of October 2000. It outlined criteria for measuring advancement of women’s participation in peace processes. It helped to move the discussion from a focus of women as victims to one of women as actors. The creation of the organization within the UN for this, UN Women, a decade later has generated an international office with responsibilities particularly for this field. A further example is Goal 5 of the seventeen Sustainable Development Goals agreed on by the UN General Assembly in 2015 which aims to “achieve gender equality and empower women and girls” by 2030. Thus, the issue of gender equality is firmly on the international agenda. There is surprisingly little data on progress, however. We can observe that the proportions of women in parliaments and cabinets have increased. It could be seen as a measure of increasing influence. The UN Secretary-General reported on May 2017 that “[g] lobally, women’s participation in single or lower houses of national parliaments reached 23.4 per cent in 2017, just 10 percentage points higher than in 2000.” The Secretary-General goes on to say: “Such slow progress suggests that stronger political commitment and more ambitious measures and quotas are needed to boost women’s political participation and empowerment.”3 There is improvement, but it is far from the gender equality goals that have been set in UN Sustainable Development Goals. That is supported by other observations. There are more women prime ministers and presidents, suggesting that women’s share of power has increased. Still, we are at any moment in time talking about less than 20 top leaders in a world with more than 200 independent political units. The share of ten percent is far from equal.4 The same may be said with respect to women’s share of salaries and economic resources. All societies are still far from gender equality in pay or wealth.5

2

In his speech announcing the global war on terror on September 21, 2001, US President George W. Bush, mentioned that women were not allowed to attend school as an example of the brutality of the Taliban regime, https://www.theguardian.com/world/2001/sep/21/september11. usa13, downloaded on January 4, 2018. 3 E/2017/66; https://www.un.org/ga/search/view_doc.asp?symbol=E/2017/66&Lang=E. 4 See https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2017/03/08/women-leaders-around-the-world/, downloaded on January 3, 2018. 5 The US Senate published a report on this in 2016. See https://www.jec.senate.gov/public/_cache/ files/0779dc2f-4a4e-4386-b847-9ae919735acc/gender-pay-inequality——us-congress-joint-economiccommittee.pdf. (downloaded January 5, 2018). From 2018 it is illegal in Iceland not to pay equally: see https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/apr/05/iceland-equal-pay-women-men-law (downloaded, January 5, 2018).

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This does not meet a reasonable standard of gender equality. The trend may be in that direction of increasing equality, but the inequalities are still many, easily observable and with negative consequences. The inequalities are even more marked if we focus areas of security thinking and military decision-making. The number of female Ministers of Defense is low and the same is true for top generals or police commissioners. For a woman to have a real influential position in the decisions relating to war and peace is rare. It is easy to point to examples, such as Golda Meir (Israel), Indira Gandhi (India) and Margaret Thatcher (United Kingdom), three women that led their countries in wars/ civil wars. But they are few, stand out, and all operated within a Cold War mentality. At all times the number of men in these roles was overwhelming. Matters may be changing, not the least after the Cold War. It freed thinking in many regards, e.g. with respect to human rights, democracy and led to the proliferation of an independent civil society. This, furthermore, had notable effects in the UN system and the international community as a whole. It also resulted in concrete events at the national and local levels. A landmark experience was how the peace agreement in Liberia 2003 came about. Women’s organizations were in the forefront of pushing the negotiators to find an end to 14 years of war (Nilsson 2009). The 2005 election in Liberia also made Ellen Johnson Sirleaf the first elected female president in Africa. The Nobel Peace Prize in 2011 to three women (including President Johnson Sirleaf) constituted additional confirmation on the importance of women in peace processes. It demonstrated an increasing international awareness of the particular security threats to women during and after war. Research had shown the importance, for instance, for peacekeeping operations to attend more systematically to matters of equal protection against physical violence. This is captured by Olsson’s concept of “security equality” (Olsson 2009, 2018). Still, only a few of the comprehensive peace agreements of the 1989–2007 period attended to women’s rights (Joshi and Darby 2013). Thus, the peace process itself needs to be in focus, also from a gender perspective. It is possible to identify more women in the recent years with considerable influence on war and peace. German Chancellor Angela Merkel may be seen as an example, consciously trying to keep the country out of military conflict, since elected Chancellor in 2006. The verdict over Madeleine Albright, Condoleezza Rice and Hillary Clinton, the three female Secretaries of States of the US since the end of the Cold War, may be less obvious in this regard. They do contrast Italian Foreign Minister Federica Mogherini who became the High Representative of the European Union for Foreign Affairs in 2014 and was central in negotiating the 2015 treaty – together with German diplomat Helga Schmid, later head of the European foreign services (European External Action Service, EEAS), – with Iran on the nuclear technology program (the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action, JCPOA). The first woman to sign a peace agreement as a chief negotiator for one of the conflicting parties was Professor Miriam Coronel Ferrer in the Mindanao conflict in the Philippines, and this was only in 2015. There may be more examples of female negotiators, but they are still few and far between. Only a few countries have

26.2

Toward Women’s Empowerment

497

deliberately emphasized the recruitment of women to roles as negotiators and mediators.6 It is a common observation that the more traditional and ‘older’ an institution is, the more difficult it is to change its fundamental aspects, such as providing equal space for women. To such bodies belong military institutions, religious organizations and family structures. They can be seen as the stalwarts of the patriarchy that is often observed in feminist literature.7 The making of peace and searching for conflict resolutions is, however, a novel field of activity and it might, thus, see quicker changes with respect to gender balance. With increasing number of women in leading positions the gendered transformation is likely to continue, reaching into ever-newer areas of society. In 2017 it also came to include sexual harassment, in the aftermath of the election of Donald Trump as the US President, and ‘#metoo’, using novel social media (twitter) to disseminate norms of what is acceptable male behavior. It is a movement with strong political impact in USA, UK, Northern Europe, and connects to a previous debate in India starting over a particularly brutal case of rape. Thus, there are discernable trends with respect to the understanding of the importance of gender equality. In the post-Cold War era this seems to be increasingly understood as something that is thoroughly embedded in societies as a whole and not only a matter of particular individual women ending up in leading positions. It will also have to include a change in the role of men, as men, in society, a debate that hardly has began. It is still open to discussion on whether the balance of influence is shifting, particularly with decisions of direct importance to war and peace. That is the topic of the next section.

26.3

Gender Inequality and Armed Conflict

Systematic research has emerged in the past decades on gender equality and peace. Findings show convincingly that societies with higher levels of gender equality also exhibit more traits associated with peace or peacebuilding. Societies with more gender equality (or rather: lower levels of inequality) are less likely to go to interstate war, to experience civil wars and to be associated with human rights violations. Furthermore, these findings suggest that this is more important than some established notions, notably democratic regimes (Caprioli 2000, 2005;

6

An exception is the network of female mediators created by the Swedish Minister for Foreign Affairs. Ms. Margot Wallström, in 2015. 7 Tickner (1992) refers to hegemonistic masculinity, p. 6. Gerda Lerner’s The Creation of Patriarchy (Oxford University Press 1986) is a modern classic. Very few governments define themselves as ‘feminist’. The Löfven government in Sweden in 2014 may have been the first to proclaim itself as such, and for conducting a “feminist foreign policy”. The point on the importance of the age of institutions was originally made in a paper by Karin Lindgren, Uppsala.

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Melander 2005a, b). It suggests that a lot is to be gained from giving more power to women in societies. However, there is less data on the development of gender equality than might be expected from the intensity of the debate. We are limited to some few indicators, such as the number of women in parliament, and education or employment ratios. However, in the 2016 Human Development Report a Gender Inequality Index (GII) was introduced consisting of a number of pertinent measures. It provides data for most countries, although the focus is on developing countries, thus not including OECD member states, and certain other countries (notably Russia). It still gives a picture of the global conditions at one moment in time. The GII can then be combined with the latest available data on armed conflict, in order to initiate a discussion on the relationship between gender inequality/equality and war. Table 26.1 summarizes the data on a regional level. The table combines the GII with information from the Uppsala Conflict Data Program. The regional breakdown from the Human Development Report helps to further our discussion on the relationship between gender equality, conflict and peace. Table 26.1 demonstrates a fairly close connection between armed conflicts and gender inequality in 2016. Thus, it supports previously reported findings. It also adds a regional breakdown that allows for further discussion. The three regions with the highest inequalities also are those with the highest number of countries in armed conflict: Sub-Saharan Africa, the Arab States and South Asia. These three regions Table 26.1. Gender Inequality and Armed Conflicts, Developing countries. Gender Inequality Index 2015, Armed Conflicts 2016. Sources: Human Development Report 2016, p 217; at: hdr. undp.org/sites/default/files/2016_human_development_report.pdf; Regions, Human Development Report 2016, p. 269; UCDP 2016; Allansson et al. 2017, Appendix 1. Region (number of countries)

Gender Inequality Index

Number of countries with an armed conflict, 2016

Countries with armed conflict of all states in the region, %

Countries with armed conflicts: Share of total, %

Sub-Saharan Africa (46) Arab States (20) South Asia (9) Latin America and Caribbean (33) East Asia, Pacific (24) Europe, Central Asia (17) Total (149)

0.572

12

26

40

0.535

7

35

23

0.520

4

44

9

0.390

1

3

3

0.315

3

13

10

0.279

3

18

10

30

20

95

26.3

Gender Inequality and Armed Conflict

499

are above the regional average of 20 per cent of states being involved in armed conflict. Together these three regions constitute 50 per cent of all developing countries and they are the location for almost three quarters of all armed conflicts for that year (72 per cent). The high values on gender inequality reflect that women in these three regions also are lower on human development in general. Women may have a longer life expectancy, but that does not mean they have a higher value on human development measures than men (HDR Report 2016, p 54). Thus, Table 26.1 suggests a linkage between low human development, gender inequality and conflict. Once the GII gets a longer historical record it might become possible to establish this relationship more fully and also to explore the linkage between armed conflict and gender inequality. For instance, the data suggest that armed conflicts as such may be more of a threat to women’s social standing than that of men. Men may actually, as a collective, benefit from being more related to warlords, military structures and economic interactions with conflict actors, than women. There is more to be learned from the connections between armed conflict and gender inequality. It is a plausible hypothesis that protracted wars – intra- as well as interstate – reduce the influence of women in society as a whole. Thus, it is important to see the emergence of measurements such as the GI index. Although there are no societies that meet a definition of complete gender equality there are variations that can be researched, as suggested by Table 26.1. Some additional work shows that gender equality is related to democratic representation and access to power, in ways that may have important implications for how state security is handled and what priority is given to negotiated approaches rather than military ones. Thus, in an analysis of democratization, state institutions, gender and civil war, Bjarnegård and Melander reiterates that semi-democracies have weak political institutions, and that such societies tend to give more of a role to men than women, particularly as the military institutions have stronger political influence. It is also the category of states most involved in wars and violence. Only when democracy is more entrenched and associated with a higher level of gender equality is there also a “pacifying effect” (Bjarnegård and Melander 2011, p 150). Thus, democracy is not in itself contributing to less violence, unless it is combined with increased gender equality. This finding may be amplified by analysis of masculinity norms in society, the role of civil society organizations and the degree of tolerance for diversity in general (Bjarnegård et al. 2015). As noted above it is not only the debate but also the study of masculinity and it is importance for violence that is at its beginning. It needs to connect to historical experiences. What is to be a ‘man’ has varied across cultures and over times, not the least with respect to war (Braudy 2003). There may be a global trend favoring women’s rights, but it is not uniform. The Arab Spring has, by many, been regarded as a backlash against an increased role for women in society. A considerable number of women were involved in the initial upheavals of this movement, notably in Tunisia, Egypt and Yemen in 2011. Only in Tunisia has this been maintained. The rise of ISIS in 2014 was partly directed

500

26 Gendering International Affairs

against a stronger role for women in society. It favored a traditional view of men and women in society. Some observers even see the Arab Spring and its aftermath as a ‘disaster’ for women. The GI index does not suggest that women’s conditions have improved in Arab countries, but the index lacks data over time. There are some advances noted, for instance, in banning domestic violence. However, there are ominous signs also in other regions of the world. It can be argued that the rising strength of xenophobic parties in Western and Central Europe in the 2010s also has women’s rights and gender equality as a target. Typically, such reactions are associated with strong contentions in society, involving not only gender issues, but also views of immigration, press freedom, cultural rights and pluralism. Resisting gender equality – to many frustrated groups, particularly men – can be connected to other concerns, thus becoming part of a general authoritarian trend. It may make women and their empowerment an easy target for agitation, as women constitute half of the population. The present authoritarian trends in politics connect to matters of power over society, the use of violence and women’s security. These observations suggest that there is a strong relation between gender equality and quality peace: the respect for human dignity that is central in the notion of quality peace gives a logical focus on the status of women in society. The essence of protracted armed conflict is the breakdown of law and order. That is likely to affect the least protected the most severely. Thus, we find numerous reports on sexual violence against women in times of war. Indeed, there are very few wars, which do not have reports of this sort. The systematic use of sexual violence in war is a way of exerting domination and demonstrating power, whether recognized explicitly or not by the armed actors. Its pursuit is likely to be implicitly or deliberately supported by the leadership as a way of pursuing military campaigns. That can be seen when analyzing armed actors that are known not to be involved in sexual violence during wars. Angela Muvumba Sellström (2015) makes that observation in her work, pursuing some of the studies initiated by Cohen/Nordås (2014) as well as Baaz/Stern (2009). These studies show that this type of warfare can be controlled, with strict discipline and a clear purpose for the armed struggle. This is a further way to underscore the observation that the existence of sexual violence is a matter of leadership choice, and thus links back to the way society is structured and the norms that are supported.

26.4

Gendering International Analysis

Gender equality relates to one of the most important social changes going on across the planet. The role of women has improved, but it is still far from equality. War, civil war and human rights violations all relate to violent norms in society, mostly associated with men in power and with a traditional perception of masculinity. The different phases of war work to the detriment of women, i.e. before, during and after war, making it necessary to rethink concepts such as security after the war (Cockburn 2013). The high number of armed conflicts in the 2010s thus constitutes

26.4

Gendering International Analysis

501

a challenge to the advancement of women’s rights as well as to peace efforts. The wars are associated with a desire for military victory rather than a peaceful settlement. Victories, however, have been few and without negotiated agreements wars become protracted. This is a setback for the concerned societies, for global peace efforts and not the least for the position of women in many of the affected societies. Thus, ending wars in equitable ways will be beneficial to society as a whole and increase the possibilities for civil society, tolerance and gender equality, in a way that reduces the likely of a return to conflict in the future. The wars we report on here have almost entirely been conducted by men, who thus also have to take the responsibility for the calamities they created. The fact that these wars have not improved the living conditions – to the contrary – may strengthen the argument for gender equality: A strong role for women may have avoided these disasters and in post-war reconstruction (whether after victory or a settlement) it might be logical for women to take a stronger role. The legitimacy of the new order after war would benefit from that.

References Allansson, Marie, Erik Melander and Lotta Themnér. 2017. “Organized Violence 1946-2016,” Journal of Peace Research, 54 (4): 574–587. Baaz, Maria Eriksson and Maria Stern 2009. “Why Do Soldiers Rape? Masculinity, Violence and Sexuality in the Armed Forces in the Congo (DRC), International Studies Quarterly, Vol. 53 (2), June 2009, pp. 495–518. Bjarnegård, Elin and Erik Melander 2011. ’Disentangling gender, peace and democratization: the negative effects of militarized masculinity,’ Journal of Gender Studies, 20:2, 139–154. Bjarnegård, Elin, Erik Melander, Gabrielle Bardal, Karen Brounéus, Erika Forsberg, Karin Johansson, Angela Muvumba Sellström and Louise Olsson, Gender, Peace and Armed Conflict, SIPRI Yearbook 2015. Oxford University Press, chapter 4.I. Braudy, Leo 2003. From Chivalry to Terrorism: War and the Changing Nature of Masculinity, New York: Knopf. Caprioli, Mary 2000. “Gendered Conflict,” Journal of Peace Research Vol. 37 (1): 53–68. Caprioli, M. 2005. ‘Primed for Violence: The Role of Gender Inequality in Predicting Internal War’, International Studies Quarterly, 49: 161–78. Cockburn, Cynthia 2013. “War and security, women and gender: an overview of the issues”, Gender and Development, Vol. 21 (3): 433/452. Cohen, D.K. and R. Nordås 2014 “Sexual violence in armed conflict: Introducing the SVAC Dataset, 1989–2009”. Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 51, no 3, pp. 418–428. Connell, Raewyn W. 1987. Gender and Power. Blackwell Publishers and Stanford University Press. Connell, Raewyn W. 2005. Masculinities. Berkeley and Los Angeles, Ca.: University of California Press. Gilman Charlotte Perkins, Philosophy Tea 2017, Regina Theatre, Uppsala, Sweden Podcast. https://soundcloud.com/reginateatern-reginateatern/philosophy-tea-171017-charlotte-perkinsgilman. Charlotte Perkins Gilman, 1915 (1979), Herland Human Development Report 2016: Human Development for Everyone, New York: UNDP.

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Joshi, Madhav and John Darby 2013. ‘Introducing the Peace Accords Matrix (PAM): A Database of Comprehensive Peace Agreements and Their Implementation, 1989–2007’, Peacebuilding, 1 (2): 256–74. Melander, Erik 2005a. ‘Gender Equality and Intrastate Armed Conflict’, International Studies Quarterly, 49 (4): 695–714. Melander, E., 2005b. ‘Political gender equality and state human rights abuse.’ Journal of Peace Research, 42 (2), 149–166. Nilsson, Desiree 2009. Crafting a Secure Peace: Evaluating Liberia’s Comprehensive Peace Agreement, Uppsala: Uppsala University, Department of Peace and Conflict Research and New York: United Nations, Mediation Support Unit, 2009. Olsson, Louise 2009. Gender Equality and United Nations Peace Operations in Timor-Leste. Leiden: Brill Publishers. Olsson, Louise 2018. ‘Same Peace – Different Quality? The Importance of Security Equality for Quality Peace’ in Joshi, Madhav and Peter Wallensteen 2018 (eds). Understanding Quality Peace. Peacebuilding after Civil War. Routledge, pp. 44–58. Tickner, Ann J. 1992. Gender in International Relations: A feminist perspective on achieving global security. New York: Colombia University Press.

I Connecting Peace and Development

Chapter 27

Scarce Goods as Political Weapons: The Case of Food Peter Wallensteen

Abstract In the aftermath of the politically motivated oil price rises in 1973 the USA argued that it possessed “food power” that could be used against its foes. In this study from 1976 Peter Wallensteen tries to specify the conditions under which certain commodities could become power instruments, e.g., in terms of supply concentration and demand dispersion. In a number of crucial food products, the US actually had such a powerful position. More specifically, the article demonstrates how food aid has been used as an instrument of US power. Also, possible remedies are presented focusing on change in the background factors, such as supply concentration.

27.1

The Power of Economic Commodities

“Food is a weapon”1 the American Secretary of Agriculture, Earl Butz stated in 1974.2 Directly stimulated by OPEC’s use of oil as a political weapon, an American discussion emerged on the possibility to use food as a tool against other states and to further the goals of the United States. OPEC’s action indicates a new era in international relations. For years, the utility of ‘traditional’ political weapons has been questioned. Military technology has developed to such levels of sophistication and destruction that its utility becomes increasingly limited. Countries with little access to military means have reviewed their assets in order to find alternative levers to use for the accomplishment of their ambitions. Both highly military equipped nations and nations with little military might suddenly find themselves interested in alternative weapons of the same type, namely economic goods.

An earlier version of this article was presented to the seminar “Political Economy of Food”, held at Tampere, Finland, in April 1976. The author is grateful for suggestions arising from the discussions. This article is also a slightly modified version of English Report 15 from the Department of Peace and Conflict Research at Uppsala University, Sweden. The present chapter was published as Wallensteen, Peter 1976. “Scarce Goods as Political Weapons. The Case of Food”, Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 13 (4): 277–298. Republished with permission. 2 Quoted in The Guardian, January 4, 1976. 1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_27

505

506

27

Scarce Goods as Political Weapons: The Case of Food

The discussion on ‘food power’ consequently is not an exception but rather a symptom of a general global situation. For the Third World, the resort to producer cartels or alliances has emerged as an important way of changing the flow of resources and contributing to the fight against underdevelopment and dependence. For the United States, on the other hand, an interest in stemming the tide of revolutionary forces has led to an inventory of ‘effective’ means available to the government. This article concentrates on the historical use of food power by the United States. The aim is to investigate under which conditions such a utilization of food tends to become probable and to raise some propositions on possible counter-measures. The discussion must be initiated, however, with a theoretical answer to the question: under which general circumstances can a given economic commodity be turned into a political weapon? The aim of a military weapon is to kill. This is done by cutting a throat or blowing a person to bits. The economic weapon cannot achieve such direct killing. Economic commodities are, however, necessary to maintain life and give life a material form. Thus, by denying access to food, life can be threatened. If ‘effectively’ applied, economic commodities can be as disastrous to human life as military weapons. Of course, food has a particular role in this connection- Other economic goods, such as minerals, labor, capital, or technology can achieve a killing effect only through their propensity to reduce the level of production, contribute to economic chaos, make difficult the production of food, or prevent the import of food. However, the object of a military weapon is not only to kill; it can also be used to protect one person against another, thus alleviating a potential threat and making life continue without changes or interruptions. It goes without saying that this is also the major function of the economy. Thus, economic commodities, just as military weapons, can be used to punish enemies and reward friends. They are comparable as means of power. One could even proceed to ask which means is the most ‘effective’ one. It is not necessarily so that military power is more ‘effective’ than economic might. However, a struggle where economic goods are the tools takes a different form from a fight with military means. The siege of a city is far less dramatic than an attack on it: the economic means work through their long-term and indirect effects (relative to the military means). The application of military resources in fighting has been studied throughout history. The use of economic capabilities in power contexts is less elaborate. In both cases we are concerned with power but the nature of the weapon is so different that separate theories are needed. In general the structural conditions for applying economic commodities as means of influence appear to be created by the following four factors: Scarcity is the primary condition. If demand is high and supply limited the value of a given commodity increases in price. The price tends to reflect the potential utility of the goods as a weapon, as it indicates the importance attached to it. If the

27.1

The Power of Economic Commodities

507

consumer is prepared to pay a high price in monetary terms, he might also be prepared to pay a high price in political concessions. Scarcity is a necessary, but not a sufficient condition for turning a given economic good into a political weapon. Supply concentration is a further necessary requirement. Supply should be in the hands of a few producers and/or sellers. This makes possible a cartel or might in an extreme case mean a monopoly of supply.3 If the supply, on the other hand, is distributed amongst a number of producers/sellers, competition will result and the consumer may be able to purchase the commodity without ties. Supply concentration, furthermore, should not be of short duration, as the consumer might then overcome his scarcity through internal adjustments or prepare to avoid it by storing. On the other hand, supply concentration can hardly be maintained over too long a period of time, unless it concerns raw materials not found elsewhere in the world. High price induces technological development as well as increased production of the commodity, easily resulting in the break-up of the cartel/monopoly.4 Also, it should be made clear that a production monopoly is not the necessary pre-condition.5 Rather, it is the surplus of the good that matters, as it is the marginal quantities brought to the ‘market’ (in one meaning or the other) that are demanded. Demand dispersion favors the utility of a given economic good as a weapon, assuming scarcity and supply concentration. In the case where many buyers compete, the monopolistic seller can play the consumers against each other as well as increase prices or make deals conditional. However, the situation of only one buyer is strongly different. The seller has an interest in selling, to alleviate his own economy of the burden created by a surplus. The buyer, being the only or the major consumer can exert pressure by threatening not to buy, particularly if unacceptable or unrelated conditions are tied to a deal. In the internal economic life of many nations, the achievement of strength has been the major argument for organizing consumer associations. Such consumer cartels can exert pressure on price level as well as eliminate unreasonable conditions.6

3

Helge Hveem presents eighteen points which are necessary in order to make a producers’ cartel possible. Among these points, the variable of scarcity is included, although it is not given a prominent position in Hveem’s paradigm. The variable of supply concentration appears in different shapes among Hveem’s points, however, and corresponds roughly to points 5, 6, and 7. See Hveem, H., The Political Economy of Raw Materials and the Conditions for their ‘Opecization’, March 1975, mimeo. A revised version of this paper and another report by Hveem, Producer Associations, is forthcoming in the Journal of Peace Research. The list of variables has been presented in Hveem’s ‘Les matieres premieres, les accords multilateraux et la structure du pouvoir economique’. Revue Tiers Monde, April-June, 1976. 4 Several of Hveem’s points deal with this aspect, notably points 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 and 18. See Hveem, op.cit. 5 Hveem, op.cit., seems to emphasize the production aspect more strongly than the market aspect. The case of food, however, illuminates that the crucial aspect is the surplus that is brought to the market, not the production in itself for using a certain commodity politically. 6 This is the argument behind the creation of the “oil consumers’ club”, IEA, in 1974 as well as intra-national consumer associations. Hveem, op. cit. also includes this aspect, particularly in his points 3 and 17.

508

27

Scarce Goods as Political Weapons: The Case of Food

These three conditions are still not sufficient to explain the power vested in certain economic goods. If a given country, A, is the sole producer (i.e. supply concentration) of an attractive commodity (i.e. scarcity) and a great number of other countries are interested in the product (i.e. demand dispersion) the result might well be the subjugation of country A under one of the consumers. Scarcity, in other words, might induce competition among the consumers. The power vested in the attractive commodity might turn the producer into an underdog, rather than a topdog. The 19th century “scramble for Africa” is an obvious example of this.7 Thus, a fourth variable must be added to give the producer/seller a possibility to utilize his resources as instruments of power. This variable could be termed action independence. Action independence: the seller/producer must himself control his assets to be able to use it instrumentally. In a sense we could say that the seller/producer must be an actor, i.e. have a capability to take action as defined by himself.8 This means that the actor either must control the production process himself (e.g. through governmental control over the companies carrying out the production) or he must have access to means on other dimensions to ensure that he can maintain or extend control over his assets. The actual composition of action independence can be indicated through examples. For instance, if a seller/producer for his production of a given commodity is dependent, on imports his action independence is relatively low, compared to the situation of basing the production on internal resources. Thus, the opportunity to utilize an economic asset as a weapon decreases with increasing import reliance. Also, the economic commodity can be of great importance for balance of payments, or for government revenues, thus again restricting the possibility of applying it as a weapon. A third example is dependence on foreign specialists to carry out production, which increases vulnerability and restricts opportunities to use the commodity as a weapon. In sum, the variable of action dependence focuses on the constraints imposed by various types of internal or international dependencies, which prevent a country from becoming an actor. The four conditions listed have to be present simultaneously to give the structural possibility of turning an economic asset into a political instrument. This does not mean that the asset will be used whenever the structural possibility is present. Rather such a decision is taken under a great number of further conditions, for instance, the nature of a given conflict, goals, alternative means, and judgment of utility. Furthermore, this does not mean that an application of economic power will be successful, given the four conditions. That is a completely different question.

In the concept of ‘structure’ this aspect has been central. It appears, however, that not only is the ‘net flow’ of capital or of benefits important, but a much more vague notion of ‘control’, where ‘control’ is not instrumental but approaches a value in itself. See Wallensteen, P., Structure and War: On International Relations, 1920–1968, Stockholm, 1973, pp. 32–34, 79–82. 8 In Hveem, op.cit., this aspect is strongly emphasized and treated in points 1, 2, 8, 9 and 15. The degree of action independence ought to be the fundamental question in research on dependency and imperialism. 7

27.1

The Power of Economic Commodities

509

Here little mention has been made of the quality of the commodities used as political weapons. Could any product become a tool if the four conditions are present? The answer appears to be in the affirmative. There are, however, some significant reasons for concentrating on food in the present context. The political use of this commodity undoubtedly has potentially the most direct and inhumane effects, and thus is a weapon strongly parallel to military instruments. The utility of the four conditions could be demonstrated in two different contexts. First, we could imagine a country to be the main exporter of a scarce commodity, which is the case of the United States in international grain trade. Given supply concentration (i.e. one exporter has a near-monopoly of supply) and demand dispersion (i.e. several importers compete for the same supply) an exporter which also exports other commodities (i.e. has high action independence) has the possibility to use the scarce product as a political weapon. This is the situation that will be analyzed in more detail in the following. Second, we could also think of an alternative use of food power, namely by an importer refusing to continue import unless political concessions are made. The classical example is the American reduction of the Cuban sugar quota in 1960. Can the vocabulary presented above shed light also on this situation? The Cuban situation could be described in the following terms: Given demand concentration (i.e. one importer being the dominant buyer in the market) and supply dispersion (i.e. several exporters competing to sell the same type of product) an importer can try to use this exchange politically, particularly if the exporter has little else to export (i.e. has low action independence). The two examples tell us that, given scarcity and action independence, the imbalance of concentration vs. dispersion is decisive in creating the structural possibility for using an economic commodity as a political instrument. Whether a given country is exporter or importer makes little difference. Whether it is alone on its ‘side’ while the ‘other side’ includes numerous and divided actors determines the equation. For what purposes are economic weapons employed? A frequent use concerns the ‘normal’ seller/buyer bargaining on the conditions of a business contract: price, transportation, timetable for consignment and payment, etc. This is a process which we are not interested in discussing as a ‘political’ objective, although it has been used as example of the successful application of ‘food power’.9 The second, and more interesting category concerns economic objectives other than those relating to the transaction of given goods, i.e. to the general economic policy of the buyer (as we in the following depart from the assumption of a strong seller and a weak buyer). Such conditions might concern limited problems, e.g. balance of payments, or general problems, such as inflation, taxation, land holding. The point distinguishing this category from the first is the fact that there is no

9

See Business Week, December 15, 1975 p. 56 for the negotiations between the Soviet Union and the United States on the conditions of the long-term grain agreement.

510

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Scarce Goods as Political Weapons: The Case of Food

immediate link between the conditions laid down and the transfer of the product. The conditions, however, refer to the economic realm of life. The third category concerns the buyer’s foreign and defense policies. Perhaps this is what is often labeled ‘political’ use of economic instruments. For some reasons, this application appears to many as more controversial and more intervening than the second type. For many there is a ‘moral threshold’ between economy and politics, making the use of economic means for political gains questionable. Consequently, if this idea of separation is maintained, political means should not be used for economic gains. This distinction is theoretically feasible but has little correspondence in reality. Largely it reflects 19th century Liberal economic theory. Examples of the use of economic means for political aims are economic boycotts against some countries as well as the buying of votes in the United Nations. Economic instruments are used to ‘intensify’ normal exchanges between governments. The fourth category, finally, contains uses which are directed towards the basic assumption of the third category: the governments no longer accept each other as legitimate. Thus, the fourth type refers to the subversion of a given government. The economic means are no longer seen as means of influencing an opposite government but rather to stimulate opposition and achieving the overthrow or capitulation of the government. In these arguments boycott logic finds its roots. To this is furthermore added strong influences of expressive thinking: you-should-nothelp-your-enemy morals are simple but often convincing arguments for boycott action. This typology organizes the objectives from the restricted, intra-economic uses to the unlimited, societal applications. It builds on a continuum stretching from what is ‘normally agreed’ to what is ‘normally forbidden’ in international conduct, from the ‘moral’ to the ‘immoral’. It neither suggests which objective is the most frequent one nor which ambition is most easily achieved through economic means. It suggests, however, that the use most publicized is the one most ‘immoral’ or ‘forbidden’, while the others remain in the shadow. Consequently, the three former are harder to investigate. In this article, the focus is on the third and fourth categories.

27.2

American Grain Power

27.2.1 Scarcity Since 1972 prices on agricultural products have entered a new phase. During the 1960’s the market prices were relatively low, but with the inception of the 1970’s prices climbed abruptly. The price level indicates the relative scarcity of the products. The high price has direct effect on poor countries and poor sections of their populations. 1973 witnessed famine and starvation in a great number of

27.2

American Grain Power

511

countries, particularly in the Sahel area and Ethiopia. The following year starvation was widespread in Bangladesh. A number of factors contribute to the rise of prices. Demand increased on the world market in 1972, particularly with the large Soviet purchases of grain in the West. These purchases in turn originated in the relatively bad Soviet harvest and from a Soviet desire to maintain and increase meat consumption. Later on supply decreased on the world market, partly due to an American desire to decrease the great volumes of grains stored. In this way the costs of storing were avoided, simultaneously contributing to an increase in prices and incomes for American farmers and companies.10 The present scarcity has two basic roots: the growth of affluence in some countries and the growth of population in others. The immediate crisis in 1972 was created by affluent countries, not by demands exerted by the poor countries. As a matter of fact, the world market is governed by monetary purchase power: it is only buyers that possess significant monetary sources that count. For many of the poor nations, and in particular for many of the poor in the poor nations, there is hardly any possibility to turn to the world market for food. The growth of global food production emerges from Table 27.1, which also relates food production to population changes. During the 1960’s and early 1970’s world food production increased strongly both in total number and in relation to population. Table 27.1 shows that the growth pattern is found in all sub-categories, particularly with the centrally planned industrial societies. Both in total and relative terms food production has increased most markedly in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union. Comparing developing countries and industrial countries it is obvious that in the former, food production barely keeps pace with population growth, while in the latter food production is increasing strikingly. As a major share of what is produced is also consumed within the producing country it could be concluded that a disproportionately large section of global agricultural growth goes to already wealthy countries.

27.2.2 Supply Concentration and Demand Dispersion The world market is the chief mechanism through which available surpluses are distributed over the world. Thus, by taking a broad look at international trade, a picture emerges of who are supplying food and who are demanding it. Table 27.2 gives some recent statistics.

10

Brown, L., The World Food Prospects, Science, Dec. 12, 1975 contains a calculation by the U.S. Department of Agriculture on world grain reserves. NACLA’s Latin American & Empire Report, October 15, 1975, pp. 6–7 gives some details on the policy of depleting the grain stocks. However, the costs of grain storing largely appears to have been the burden of the government, not the big grain corporations. See The Guardian, February 8, 1976.

512

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Scarce Goods as Political Weapons: The Case of Food

Table 27.1 Food Production and Population Growth, 1962–1972, 1974. Source: UN Statistics and Jordbruksutredningens expertgrupp, Svenskt jordbruk i internationellt perspektiv, Ds Jo 1975: 12, s 24. Annual increase, Population

Annual increase, Food production

Annual increase, Food production per capita

Food Production 1974, Index

Food Production 1974, Index Per capita

The World 1.9 2.7 0.8 133 107 Industrial market 1.0 2.4 1.4 126 113 economies Industrial centrally 1.0 3.5 2.5 150 136 planned economies Developing 2.5 2.7 0.2 132 99 countries with marked economies Developing 1.9 2.6 0.7 130 107 countries with centrally planned economies Note: Numbers refer to annual changes 1962–1972. The index numbers has 1962–1972 set at 100.

Table 27.2 The Changing Pattern of World Grain Trade, 1934–1976. Grain export (+ ), grain import (−), quantities in million metric tons. Source: Brown, L., The World Food Prospect, Science, Dec. 12, 1975, p. 1055, 1976 is estimated. Region

1934–38

1948–52

1960

1970

1976

North America Latin America Western Europe Eastern Europe and U.S.S.R. Africa Asia Australia and New Zealand

+5 +9 −24 +5 +1 +2 +3

+23 1 −22

+39 0 −25 0 −2 −17 +6

+56 +4 −30 +1 −5 −37 +12

+94 −3 −17 −25 −10 −47 +12

0 −6 +3

Table 27.2 shows the situation for one of the most important categories of food, grain. In the middle of the 1970’s the supply concentration of grain trade appears to have reached an all-time high. In fact only two areas are net exporters while all other continents are net importers. However, among the latter there are individual countries which are net exporters, though largely supplying intra-continental markets, for instance, France and Sweden. Due to over-all scarcity as well as supply concentration, smaller net exporters gain an increasing importance. However, in the global picture only four net exporters are really of significance: the United States, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. These four countries together supply regularly almost the whole output on the world market. This means that the remainder of

27.2

American Grain Power

513

Table 27.3 The Significance of the United States to Global Food Supply, 1973. Source: Statistical Abstract of the United Stales, 1974, p. 616. The United States Share of Wheat Corn (maize) Soya beans Rice

World Production

World Trade

12.7 45.8 73.8 1.4

43.9 75.8 85.2 27.7

the world, in total around 150 countries, has to turn to any of these four to satisfy demand in situations of internal shortage. The most important net exporter of grain is the United States. Although its production, for instance, of wheat is smaller than the Soviet Union, it is the United States who has a surplus to offer the market. Thus, there is considerable difference in importance to global production and importance to the world market. The significance of the United States for a selected number of agricultural products can be seen in Table 27.3. The United States has fertile lands, advanced agricultural technology, and an effective farm policy for maximum output. Together these factors give the country an extreme importance for world food supply. Assuming that there were no borders or that the international system was contributing to equal distribution of commodities and benefits, the American Midwest would be the world’s bread basket, and there would be little reason to worry. However, with the existence of borders and with the possibility to control the international system so that benefits are geared only to some, supply concentration turns into a problem as well as a means of influence. The final question which needs to be answered, then, is whether the United States can utilize its favored situation for purposes largely benefiting only the United States?

27.2.3 Action Independence The United States is a global topdog. In a great number of dimensions, apart from the agricultural one, we find the United States among the most significant nations. Thus, we can say that the basis for independent action exists: the United States itself formulates its goals and has the capacity to pursue them. Furthermore, international trade is of low importance to the United States. This is not, however, sufficient evidence to conclude that the country can use its central position in food production as an instrument of power. The analysis has to be supplemented with an investigation into the role played by agricultural export in the American economy, as well as an analysis of American dependence on agricultural imports. First, agricultural exports have consistently been higher than agricultural imports. Since 1958 the balance of agricultural exports and imports has been negative only once (1959). This means that agriculture is a foreign currency earner

514

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Scarce Goods as Political Weapons: The Case of Food

for the United States. Perhaps this was most dramatically illustrated in 1974. The balance of American foreign trade was as a whole negative (–3.1 billion US dollars). Looking at the balances of minerals and fuels both were strongly negative (together −25.6 billion US dollars). The most important positive balances were manufactured products (+7.3 billion US dollars) and agriculture (+11.6 billion US dollars). In 1974, the agriculture export surplus was the most important contributor to the American balance of payments, even doing better than net incomes from foreign investments (+9.0 billion US dollars).11 Export of agricultural goods indeed constitute an important asset to the American economy. Second, development points towards increasing importance of agriculture exports. The share of agricultural exports of total exports has varied considerably during the last two decades, but at present it is increasing, as witnessed by Table 27.4. Following a period of declining importance of agricultural exports in the latter half of the 1960’s, the opposite trend now dominates. The years 1972 and 1973 were remarkable ‘come-backs’ for American agricultural exports. Not only did prices rise dramatically but since then the policy of withholding land from agricultural production has been abandoned. In view of the demand it appears possible to conclude that for the remainder of this decade American agricultural exports will have a role equivalent to the one witnessed in the beginning of the 1960’s. This means that agriculture will be an important contribution to continued American economic growth. Agriculture has achieved a crucial position both in the American balance of payments and in trade as a whole. This imposes constraints on the use of exports as a political weapon. A decision to reduce significant amounts of export would have serious repercussions for the American economy. Furthermore, it would have direct effects on an influential group of voters and political financiers.12

Table 27.4 The Share of Agricultural Trade in Total US Trade, 1958–1974 (in percent). Source: Calculated from the International Economic Report of the President, March 1975, p. 133. 1958–1966 average 1967–1971 average 1972 1973 1974

11

Exports

Imports

24.2 17.8 19.1 25.0 22.5

23.4 14.9 11.7 12.7 10.2

International Economic Report of the President, March 1975, pp. 133, 142. The farmers of course constitute a sizeable voting group. However, farming is becoming increasingly attractive, particularly with recent levels of profitability, to big conglomerates, for instance, ITT, Boeing, Greyhound, John Hancock. See Hargraves, R., Superpower. America in the 1970’s, London 1973, p. 76f.

12

27.2

American Grain Power

515

However, both these points are theoretical. They assume that governmental action would affect a major section of the export. This is a highly unlikely development. It is more interesting to discuss a situation where the major part of export is directed to ‘secure’ or ‘friendly’ markets. Given such a basic security of exports the probability of using food as a weapon towards marginal export markets increases. In such cases, a reduction of small amounts of American exports will have little or no effect on the American economy, while they could be of great significance for small countries with starving populations. So far this discussion has dealt only with the American exports. To what extent can action independence be reduced by reliance of the United States on agricultural imports? Is there a possibility of retaliation if the United States applies its food weapon? From Table 27.4 it can be observed that agricultural imports have been constantly on the decline. However, it is also interesting to analyze the composition of imports. Traditionally, American agricultural imports have been ‘complementary’, which means that they consisted of products not produced in the United States itself, e.g. rubber, coffee, cacao, tea, bananas, etc. Increasingly, however, imports have become ‘supplementary’ or ‘competitive’, i.e. consisting of agricultural commodities commercially produced also in the United States.13 In 1973, the two leading import commodities were coffee and meat, respectively, the former being complementary and the latter supplementary. As a matter of fact, import of meat has increased very strongly during the latest few decades, as shown in Table 27.5. Between 1965 and 1973 the share as well as volume of meat and meat products has more than doubled in American imports.14 The main suppliers are at present Australia, New Zealand, and Canada, but neighboring Latin American countries are rapidly gaining in importance (e.g. Mexico, Nicaragua, Costa Rica). In the so-called banana republic of Guatemala, exports of beef and veal have become more important than bananas (coffee, however, still being more important). Looking as a whole on American agricultural trade we can make the following general proposition: the United States is primarily an exporter of grain and increasingly an importer of meat. In a sense, the United States is using the surrounding world as food processor: instead of processing grain into meat at home it gets cheaper meat by increasingly locating meat production in low-wage countries. There are two implications of this development: increasing import of competitive agricultural products also means increasing possibility of internal substitution, if necessary (using present grain export for internal livestock development). Simultaneously, it is difficult for present meat exporters to replace the US market with other markets, at least in a short run. In the long run, however, one could expect pressure to accumulate for local consumption of meat. As the location of meat production to, for instance, Latin American countries serves to supply the United States with cheap meat a switch to intra-Latin American consumption would

13

The definition is given in Agricultural Statistics, 1974, US Department of Agriculture, p. 584. GATT, Trends in United States Merchandise Trade, 1953–1970, Gatt, 1972, pp. 7–10.

14

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Scarce Goods as Political Weapons: The Case of Food

Table 27.5 The Share of Meat and Meat Products in American Agricultural Imports, 1950–1973, Selected Years. Source: United States Foreign Trade, Statistical Report, Fiscal year 1973.

1950 1955 1960 1965 1970 1973

Share of Meat and Meat Products, per cent of Total Value of Imports

Imported Meat and Meat Products, Million Pounds

2.4 3.9 8.5 9.5 17.3 18.6

232 281 838 955 1820 2004

be costly to the United States. As a matter of fact we can here see the contours of a “meat war”, where American demands for cheap meat confront Latin American desires for any meat at all. Summarizing this discussion it is clear that there is a great global scarcity of grain, that the United States is the leading supplier to the rest of the world, and that the United States has considerable action independence, especially towards nations with marginal importance to U.S. exports. At the same time American imports, particularly of meat, are increasing. This means that there is no general American ‘food power’. Rather, there is American grain power, to which it is necessary to direct attention.

27.3

Instruments of American Grain Power

Economic commodities are theoretically allocated through decisions arising either from a decentralized market or from a centralized authority. However, in real life, decision-making in the Capitalist world is often made at an in-between level not observed in this theory, namely by the big corporations. Such corporations tend to control sizeable shares of given markets, thus being able to influence some of the variations on the market, in contrast to the individual small producer. However, taken individually, corporations do not have the same range of influence as governments. When discussing grain trade and referring its problems to the fluctuations of the market, it should be made clear that the big corporations tend to be exposed to as well as inducing market changes.

27.3.1 The Market and the Corporations In American economic policy the regulatory capacity of the market is taken for granted. Thus, the way the market distributes benefits and losses tends to be in line

27.3

Instruments of American Grain Power

517

with the policy preferred by the political leadership. The first principle, in official United States perception of international and national grain trade, is to let the market do the job. Three major points of criticism could normally be raised against the benefits of the market mechanism: it tends to favor the already strong or rich, it excludes those who have no or little monetary purchasing power, and it is open to manipulation (through cartels or through advertisement, for instance). In connection with food this means that the market will provide food primarily to those who have money and/or power. If the market works in a way beneficial for groups or nations also politically favored by American leaders, there would be little reason to question the market mechanism in the White House or in Congress. If, however, non-favored parties take advantage, for instance, at the expense of favored groups, hesitations regarding government interference in the market rapidly tend to dissolve. Recent examples are the embargoes on soybean exports to Japan in 1973 and on grain sales to the Soviet Union in 1975.15 There is no conscious political decision in the United States of adopting the market as an instrument of allocating value. However, it is a premise of decision-making that the market basically performs a ‘sound’ allocation. Intervention is necessary only at points of ‘malfunctioning’. Thus, an unregulated market, as well as a regulated market, expresses the official political and social ambitions of the United States. The notion of ‘the market’ easily lends itself to a picture of a great number of small buyers and sellers. Certainly, numerous minor actors are engaged in grain trade, but the picture is not correct unless a note is made on the ‘grain moguls’, Cargill, Inc., Continental Grain Corp., Cook Industries, Inc., Bunge Corp., Louis Dreyfus Corp, and Garnac.16 The two first companies together handle about 50 per cent of the world’s international grain trade.17 The six companies together handle almost all grain export from the United States.18

15

Both these embargos were only temporary but had important effects in regulating trade. Apparently, they were motivated from fear of internal shortages, price increases and consumer protests. See Congressional Quarterly, Weekly Report, September 20, 1975, p. 2008f. Grain corporations evaded the embargo on Soviet trade by selling from other grain-producing countries, see The Guardian, January 25, 1976, p. 17. Thus, it is not evident that the corporations suffered from the embargo, rather it might well have been profitable for them as well as for President Ford, who appeared to be ‘firm’. 16 Global Commodity Giants under Scrutiny, The Guardian, January 25, 1976, p. 17. 17 NACLA, op.cit., p. 20. 18 The Guardian, loc.cit.

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Scarce Goods as Political Weapons: The Case of Food

27.3.2 The Government and PL 480 The US Government bases its activities on a belief in the market and the usefulness of the big corporations. At times, however, the Government has stepped in to regulate and maintain the stability of the market. In the case of agriculture, this has taken three significant forms: the price stabilization program (the operations of the Commodity Credit Corporation which buys surplus grain), the soil bank (limiting the production) and the aid program (particularly PL 480 for selling surplus without effects on the internal market).19 The soil bank was eliminated in 1972–1973. For international trade, the aid program is the most interesting of these measures. Public Law 480 was passed in 1954. It was a solution to the problem created by huge stocks of American grain which allegedly could not be sold on the market. The law has been modified several times. In 1975 the goals of the aid program were summarized by a committee in the House of Representatives in the following five sentences:20 to to to to to

expand international trade develop and expand export markets for US agricultural commodities combat hunger and malnutrition encourage economic development in the developing countries promote the foreign policy of the United States.

The House Committee saw little contradiction between food aid and food trade. The aid program was seen as complementary to the operation of the ‘free’ market. The two first objectives clearly express a desired effect of aid in promoting international trade. Further, trade and aid were not seen as creating problems in the developing world but rather as contributing to development. Finally, no distinction was made between aid, trade, and general foreign policy. All these points are controversial within scholarly debate. There are, for instance, reasons for suggesting that food aid may in the long run have underdevelopmental effects, and thus contributes to hunger and malnutrition, as it competes with internal production of aid recipient countries. The complementarity of government food aid with private interests in food trade is a theme which is often returned to in defense of PL 480. Complementarity is seen in two instances: aid contributes to internal market regulation and to international market development. PL 480 was created in order to handle the big grain surpluses emerging from overproduction. If all this grain was allowed to go into the ‘free’ market, prices

19

NACLA, op.cit., pp. 3–11. International Development and Food Assistance Act of 1975 (HR 9005), Report on the Committee of International Relations, House of Representatives, August 1, 1975, p. 16. Some historical developments of the PL 480 are told in Gustafsson, M., U.S. Food Aid Policy, Paper to the seminar on the Political Economy of Food, Tampere, April 1976.

20

27.3

Instruments of American Grain Power

519

Table 27.6 American Wheat Production, Commercial Exports and PL 480. Source: Food Problems of Developing Countries: Implications for US Policy, Hearings before the Subcommittee on International Resources, Food and Energy of the Committee on International Relations, House of Representatives, May-June, 1975, p. 155. Information supplied by Department of Agriculture.

1972 1973 1974 1975 1976 (est.)

Total Wheat Resources Available (million metric tons)

Share of Total Wheat for Commercial Exports (%)

Resources: for PL 480 (%)

58.9 65.5 58.4 54.8 67.0

29.2 43.1 50.9 47.3 48.1

10.9 6.3 2.7 7.3 10.1

would fall and farms as well as grain companies would become unprofitable. By setting aside a sizeable proportion of the grain surplus, prices are stabilized. This also operates the other way around: when there is demand (expressed in much monetary purchasing power) the aid program can be reduced as the bulk of the harvest can be sold commercially. Thus, during periods of little monetary demand, stocks have been growing (at high costs of storing), but during periods of much monetary demand, stocks have been decreasing. The aid program has followed the same development as the stocks. Table 27.6 illustrates some of the recent fluctuations. During the three years of high and increasing prices 1972–1974, the share of the total wheat supply for commercial exports was rapidly increasing, simultaneously reducing the size of the aid program, both relatively and absolutely. Furthermore, the size of stocks decreased from 12 million metric tons in 1972 to 6.1 million tons in 1974.21 The nature of the aid program as a buffer is illustrated by the interpretation of section 401 in PL 480, which, according to AID officials, “requires that Public Law 480 be in excess of amounts needed for domestic consumption, adequate carryover of stocks and anticipated exports for dollars as determined by the Secretary of Agriculture”.22 The decision of the size of PL 480 rests with the Secretary of Agriculture and should be made after the prospects of commercial exports have been estimated. The regulatory role of PL 480 is expressed also in the laws governing the program.

21

Food Problems of Developing Countries: Implications for US Policy, Hearings before the Subcommittee on International Resources, Food and Energy of the Committee on International Relations, House of Representatives, May-June 1975, p. 155. In the early years PL 480 accounted for one third of U.S. agricultural exports, ibid. p. 44. Examples from the 1960’s are given in Tuomi, H., Food Power, Instant Research on Peace and Violence, 1975: 3, p. 128. 22 Statement by K. S. Bittermann, Office of Food and Peace, May 21, 1975, Food Problems of Developing Countries, op.cit., p. 7.

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Scarce Goods as Political Weapons: The Case of Food

PL 480 could, however, work in a regulatory fashion also if the produce was distributed internally, for instance, as part of a welfare programme.23 The nutritional standards in the United States are indeed strongly unequal, giving room for such a distribution of surpluses.24 Thus, additional arguments are needed not only for excluding this possibility, but for advocating something different. The key argument is that food aid contributes to market development. Many examples have been given in Congressional publications on the market development effects of PL 480. Thus, in 1975, the House Committee on International Relations presented a table comparing aid recipient countries in 1959 with trade in 1973. For instance, Yugoslavia in 1959 received food aid at the value of US$109 million, but in 1973 imported commercially agricultural products from the United States worth US$90 million. Other ‘successes’ of aid recipients turning into significant customers were Spain, Taiwan, Poland and Korea.25 These data can, however, not be regarded as proofs. One observer argues even that ‘proponents of food aid have been rather successful in connecting food aid with market development (but) the nexus is mostly attributable to successful press agentry’.26 The connection between food aid and market development remains extremely complex, but the point here is simply that the connection appears to be generally accepted within the United States governing circles which means that it can be used for such purposes under certain conditions. Particularly significant here is the use of the local currency proceeds arising from the sales of American grain in foreign countries.27 Furthermore, the effect of food aid in competing with local production and in contributing to taste changes favoring imported products should be explored.

23

Bard, R. L., Food Aid and International Agricultural Trade, Toronto, 1972, p. 49-50 does not regard this as a possible solution (without giving very detailed arguments, however). 24 This was part of the work by the Select Committee on Nutrition and Human Needs, U.S. Senate. It prepared several documents of interest, see for instance, Towards A National Nutrition Policy, May 1975. 25 International Development and Food Assistance Act of 1975 (HR 9005), op.cit., p. 17. 26 Bard, op.cit., p. 47. On the other hand, Richard E. Bell, Deputy Assistant Secretary of Agriculture stated in a Congressional hearing, June 3, 1975: ‘Public Law 480, designed by Congress to increase the consumption of U.S. agricultural commodities in foreign countries, has been an important part of the Department of Agriculture’s efforts to promote U.S. farm exports’, Food Problems of Developing Countries, op.cit., p. 44. In 1972, the six biggest grain corporations ‘collected $166 million’ from PL 480 rules, The Guardian. February 8, 1976, p. 17. The point here is not that food aid is ‘harmless’, only that it is difficult to distinguish the effects of food aid from the impact of general economic dependence. 27 See Yost, I., The Food for Peace Arsenal, in Weissman, S. (ed.), The Trojan Horse. A Radical Look at Foreign Aid, San Francisco 1974, pp. 162–167.

27.4

27.4

Experiences of American Grain Power

521

Experiences of American Grain Power

The structural possibility of applying food as a weapon is at hand either through market mechanisms or government interference. It is now necessary to study the actual application of food power by the United States. Here the emphasis is on government and on PL 480. Initially, let us review the objectives behind the aid program and forms of influence and then proceed to an analysis of some historical applications of this weapon.

27.4.1 Objectives and Forms of Power In Sect. 27.3 one economic motive behind US international grain trade in general and food aid in particular has been discussed. However, there are additional motives determining American grain policy. These general interests seem to be of a lasting nature as references to them consistently emerge in Congress or mass-media debates on food aid and international grain deals. The following three basic objectives can be found: An Economic Interest in Disposing of Agricultural Surpluses: The American farmers and the big grain companies have an interest, first, in disposing of their surplus outside the intra-United States market, and second, in achieving as high a price as possible for their commodities. This gives both a short-run interest in grain deals and aid programs as well as a long-run interest in developing overseas markets for American grain. A Strategic Interest in “Containing Communism”: Containment policy has been a basic element in American foreign policy since 1947 and it continues to be of significance. The policy is directed to military and foreign affairs as well as international trade. It imposes restrictions as well as directions on where and how grain surpluses should be disposed. The anti-Communist doctrine is based particularly on military, strategic, and intelligence-oriented sections of U.S. Administration, but continues to be accepted by large sections to the public. A Humanitarian Concern in Abolishing Poverty: The significance of various Church groups should not be underestimated both in supporting ‘food aid’ and in directing it towards certain goals. The humanitarian concern figures prominently in declarations, and was influential in formulating PL 480 in 1954 as well as in decisions on foreign aid in 1974 and 1975. These three interests have their background in three different views of American politics and they are founded in different interest groups. This does not mean that they are necessarily in conflict with each other nor does it mean that they have equal weight. As a matter of fact we can find a certain logic among them. The first, the economic interest in disposing of surpluses, combines easily with anti-Socialist sentiments which prefer international aid instead of internal welfare programs. Thus, the bridge to the second interest is easily made. At the same time, this

522

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Scarce Goods as Political Weapons: The Case of Food

anti-Communist motive combines neatly with the market development objective: dependence on American supplies decreases the range of alternatives open to foreign governments. The third, the humanitarian interest, primarily aims to direct aid to the most needy countries. In terms of power logic this concern plays the least significant role in the whole decision-making process. To this could be added the ‘material’ character of the two first types of interests, making it difficult for the third to redirect or come to grips with the whole idea of disposing surpluses internationally. Thus the humanitarian concern expresses itself more in imposing restriction on the over-all policy than in formulating the fundaments of that policy.28 The three interests come into play in the formulation of food aid. The strength of each one will depend on the forces inside the Administration, in Congress and in lobbying. The purpose is not here to determine the significance of each one of them upon each decision that has been made. Rather, the focus is here on the implication of each interest for the use of international power. Thus, attention is directed to the forms of power that are consonant with these interests. In Sect. 27.1 it was indicated that the theory of influence basically distinguishes between two main types of usage of a weapon: punishments and rewards, i.e. withdrawal or extension of value. It is almost obvious that we could also find a third form consisting of punishment and reward aproaches being utilized together. The following examples help to illustrate this terminology: Punishment actions: (1) Terminate shipments after expiration of agreement (2) Stop shipments before agreement expires (3) Delay or obstruct agreed shipments. Mixed approach (4) Threats or promises (with or without execution) during negotiation procedures. Reward approach (5) Initiate shipments with much publicity (“emergency aid”) (6) Increase shipments above earlier agreed levels. The approach chosen, of course, also reflects an objective, where punishment actions underline the sender’s criticism or dissatisfaction and rewards illustrate or dramatize praise or satisfaction with receiver behavior. Punishment actions, in a

28

The fact that PL 480 has to respond to many concerns apart from the humanitarian one was emphasized by K. S. Bittermann from AID’s Office of Food for Peace in a Congressional hearing on May 21, 1975: “Our Public Law 480 program serves many objectives: Humanitarian, political economic development, and market development. For this reason, we reject the notion that Public Law 480 programs are either political or humanitarian”, Food Problems of Developing Countries, op.cit., p. 7, p. 26. Thus, PL 480 had historically been a compromise between different interests, which raises important questions as to how this aggregation of interests was carried out and which interests had most weight.

27.4

Experiences of American Grain Power

523

certain way, try to utilize the dependence of the receiver country: the disruption is expected to create increasing difficulties for the receiver government, through repercussions in the economy of the country. The reward actions, however, also play on dependence as they contribute to the construction of sender ‘bridgeheads’ (i.e. sender-positive groups) in the receiver. Which form of power will most easily correspond to which type of objective? Table 27.7 presents some attempts to estimate—in general terms—the advantages/ disadvantages accruing to each type of interest if a punishment or reward approach is utilized by the US Government vis- à-vis a given country. From the point of view of agricultural interests and Christian groups, the reward pattern is preferred. For both these objectives significant disadvantages emerge if a consistent punishment approach is applied: markets would be lost and the poor might be hit hardest. If a consistent reward approach were utilized, however, markets would immediately appear together with a feeling of helping the poor. From the point of view of these objectives, sections of American public opinion would thus favor food aid. It is indeed striking that the support for PL 480 has continuously been very strong, while other types of foreign aid have been much more controversial. The alliance of farming interests and Christians has managed to maintain the PL 480 through a period of more than 20 years.29 Still, there are examples of conflicts within this alliance. Thus, the agricultural preference to commercial sales in the early 1970’s contradicted a humanitarian desire for increased food aid. In short term, the former had the upper hand, but the alliance appeared to have been restored by the mid-70’s. The gains and losses presented in Table 27.7 should be regarded as examples. They refer to a long-term perspective. They do not exclude that in a given crisis, also a farmer or a grain company could prefer a punishment approach, for instance, as a means to increase future access to a certain market. The humanitarian objective is, in principle, contradictory to such short-term punishment approach. However, at times leading politicians have voiced their preferences for conditioning food aid, e.g. tying it to population control or agricultural development programs. The reward approach is in accordance with all three objectives—generally speaking. Thus, it becomes necessary first to focus the extension of aid and to investigate which countries tend to be preferred as recipients. The punishment approach is then returned to, particularly from a strategic perspective. In the following, grain politics are linked to the U.S. government, thus no examples of the behavior of individual firms (which of course also might utilize punishments or rewards) are given.

29

The humanitarian concern might be the interest most widely supported in American public opinion, as the other types appeal only to narrow, although powerful, groupings. Also, for instance, Cold War rationales for foreign aid appear increasingly to be losing in credibility. For some information on public opinion views, see Sewell, J. W. and Paolillo, C., Public Opinion and Government Policy, in Howe, J. W. (ed), The U.S. and the Developing World, New York, 1974, pp. 125–127.

524

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Scarce Goods as Political Weapons: The Case of Food

Table 27.7 Grain Power: Forms, Objectives, Gains and Losses. +/- Advantage/disadvantage in relation to given objective Objectives/ Forms

Punishment

Reward

(1) Surplus disposal (2) Containment

− Loss of market

+ Market development

+ Clear declaration − Risk of pushing receiver into opposite camp − Hits the already poor

+ Bridgehead building − Intra-US criticism of helping the enemy + Helps the poor

(3) Abolition of poverty

27.4.2 The Reward Approach The two objectives of surplus disposal and poverty abolition unite into one ambition: to have a large volume of food aid. Perhaps there is also a convergence in one more ambition: to direct this aid to poor countries which are thought to be in greatest need of help and thereby avoid competition with the commercial exports. The containment objective tends to direct food aid to countries which supposedly are “under Communist pressure” in official U.S. terminology. Food aid consequently becomes a means to support regimes fighting internal revolutions or being neighbors to Socialist or Communist countries (particularly allies of the Soviet Union or China). To extend aid to poor countries with Socialist or Communist governments in inconsistent with the containment objective. Bring these objectives together and a pattern of US food aid can be hypothesized. The following types of countries will be the receivers of US food aid: (a) countries which are of little immediate commercial interest, but with prospects for developing into consumers of US grain (b) countries with starvation or poverty (c) countries with anti-Communist regimes, particularly those facing internal revolt or bordering on Communist countries. These propositions relate to extensions of food aid, particularly to the PL 480 program. If we instead discuss commercial trade, it is clear that (a) and (b) simply can be negated: the consumers tend to be rich countries which are not only markets for American grain.

27.4

Experiences of American Grain Power

525

Table 27.8 Receivers of American Food Exports, 1973 (million US dollars). Source: Agricultural Statistics, US Dept of Agriculture, 1974, p. 583. Note: allied country = country with military relationship to the United States. Type of Receiver (Number of countries in parenthesis)

Commercial Food Export

Food Export through Aid Programs

Rich, allied countries (12) Rich, non-allied countries (4) Middle group, allied (8) Middle group, non-allied (17) Poor, allied (6) Poor, non-allied (3) Total (50 countries)

6 966 1 146 1 276 1 349 207 295 11 240

50 – 216 27 428 122 843

Let us now attempt to relate these hypotheses to the application of the American food weapon. Which countries are the receivers/consumers of American food? Table 27.8 provides a break-down of total American food exports in 1973.30 Table 27.8 confirms several of the hypotheses raised. First, commercial export mostly goes to the rich or the medium group of countries. These countries are able to pay for themselves. They constitute a sizeable market for American food exports. As expected, government aid programs are directed to the poor group, which due to lack of monetary purchasing power tend to be uninteresting from a commercial point of view. Rather, this group appeals to the humanitarian concern of many American political leaders. However, it is obvious that the aid program consistently gives preference to countries which are militarily tied to the United States. Thus, 30

The following categorization of countries has been applied: Rich, allied countries: Australia, Belgium-Luxemburg, Canada, Denmark, Federal Republic of Germany, France, Israel (a), Italy, Japan, Netherlands, New Zealand and the United Kingdom. Rich, non-allied countries: Czechoslovakia, Sweden, Switzerland, U.S.S.R. Middle group, allied countries: Brazil (a), Greece, Iran (a), Portugal (a), Republic of Korea (a), Saudi Arabia, Spain, Taiwan (a). Middle group, non-allied countries: Algeria (a), Bahamas, Chile (a), Colombia (a), Egypt (a), Hong Kong, Ireland, Jamaica (a), Morocco (a), Mexico, Peru (a), Poland, Romania, Singapore (a), South Africa, Venezuela, Yugoslavia. Poor, allied countries: Dominican Republic (a), Indonesia (a), Pakistan (a), Philippines (a), Republic of Vietnam (a), Thailand (a). Poor, non-allied countries: Bangladesh (a), China, India (a). Criteria for classification: The rich/medium/poor dimension consists of a weighing of GNP, GNP/capita, rate of growth and industrialization without strictly applying quantitative methods. The allied/non-allied dimension consists of military relationship with the United States expressed alliance relationship or in the construction of bridgeheads through American intervention. The classification of Brazil, Iran, Saudi Arabia, and South Africa could be debated, but their positions do not affect the main argument as all four were very small consumers of American agricultural products and received little food aid from the United States in 1973. All countries listed above received agricultural exports from the United States. Countries marked (a) also received foreign aid.

526

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Scarce Goods as Political Weapons: The Case of Food

Table 27.9 American Food Exports to the Poor and Medium Group of Countries, 1973. Shares of Total Exports Going to These Two Groups of Countries, in %. Source: See Table 27.8. Size of population is taken from Statesman s Yearbook 1974/75.

Allied countries (14) Non-allied countries (20)

Share of Total Population

Share of US Commercial Exports

Share of US Government Programs

23

47

81

77

53

19

among all rich countries only one received US agricultural aid, namely Israel. In the medium group the eight allied countries received on average US$27 million, which is equal to the total sum given to non-allied countries in the same group. The main beneficiary was, however, South Korea. In the poor group, finally, the pattern repeats itself, the allied countries receiving on average US$71 million, close to double the amount given to non-allied countries in the same group. It can hardly be maintained that the allies in any significant respects were worse off than the non-allied countries, as the comparison is made within approximately similar groups. The pattern is thus one of rewarding American allies rather than distributing aid according to, for instance, a criterion of human need. Table 27.9 dramatizes this pattern of preference still further. Table 27.9 uses the same information as supplied in Table 27.8 adding the size of population. Table 27.8 made clear the orientation of commercial exports to rich countries. It is then more interesting to analyze the remaining countries. Out of the 50 receivers of American food in 1973, 16 have been defined as belonging to the group of ‘rich’ countries, that is West European countries, Japan, and the Soviet Union. The ‘middle’ group of countries includes Eastern and South European countries, Central American and East and West Asian countries. Finally, ‘poor’ countries are, for instance, India, Pakistan, Indonesia, and China. Table 27.9 shows first that the most populous countries are not allies of the US (i.e. China and India). Second, given a U.S. governmental distribution of food that takes into account needs (in terms of human population) the pattern would be very different from the actual 1973 one. Third, the present American policy has favored the extension of aid particularly to countries allied with the United States, their number and their population being comparatively small. In a way, we here find a double strategy working: allied countries and governments are relieved of the need to buy food for their scarce dollar resources, while non-allied countries are exposed to the necessity of paying expensively for their food imports. Possibly the expectation is that they should ‘over-strain’ their balance of payments as well as not being able to meet popular food demands. In this way, commercial exports become an indirect tool of American foreign policy, favoring the same aims as the direct tool.

27.4

Experiences of American Grain Power

527

The aim of the reward pattern discernible in the 1973 figures of US foreign food trade has been in line with the hypotheses made: the development of markets, construction of bridgeheads, and some poverty relief. The rewards were directed to governments of strongly anti-Communist color. With American food imports they tried to portray themselves as interested in the development of the population at large in order to increase their legitimacy. In societies of great polarization the infusion of American food has often been regarded as beneficial for a pro-American government. Is this theory consonant with actual developments? A tentative study of the development in countries which in 1973 were consumers of food aid could provide some insights. In 1973, 22 countries received food aid from the United States. In absolute number the quantities were small (valued less than US$50 million) in 15 cases. Commercial import of food was significantly greater than food aid in three additional cases. Thus, only in four cases could it be argued that the food aid was of such a magnitude that it could have an impact on the regime’s stability or legitimacy on a national level: Bangladesh, Indonesia, Pakistan, and South Vietnam. The regimes that were to be saved in Bangladesh and South Vietnam were both overthrown in 1975. The Indonesian and Pakistani regimes might be able to bolster their positions with the use of food aid, but here the direct military links with the United States should also be observed. Particularly in the Indonesian case, the regime cannot sustain itself without resorting to comprehensive repression. The three cases where aid was large in absolute numbers but small compared to commercial trade were India, Israel, and South Korea. The two latter were closely linked to the United States. In the case of Korea the polarization of the society was very strong and also here the regime tried and continues to try to keep power through repression. In two additional cases, food aid was relatively big compared to commercial trade, although the quantities involved were small: the Philippines and Portugal. Both countries were closely linked to the United States. In one, the Fascist dictatorship was overthrown, and in the other opposition remains great. Thus, out of the nine recipients where food aid might have had some influence, seven were allied to the United States. Among the latter, two regimes were overthrown within two years and two others remained weak. Although the United States has tried to use food aid as a means of stabilizing its alliances and winning legitimacy for regimes the United States preferred, historical evidence does not point in the direction of a generally successful policy. The three objectives of American food assistance policy have converged in supporting a program directed at rewarding poor countries with anti-Communist regimes in the Third World. If starvation or famine has been present together with a threat from radical opposition, American food aid has often been stepped up. The emphasis has been, however, on extending aid rather than inflicting punishment. This is of course a logical development: it is through the rewards that dependencies are created. Once a country has become dependent on American aid, punishment strategies gain in significance.

528

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Scarce Goods as Political Weapons: The Case of Food

27.4.3 The Punishment Approach Punishment, i.e. reduction of foreign aid including food aid, has been a frequently employed weapon in American foreign policy. In the literature a great number of cases of US reductions of foreign aid are described. It appears, furthermore, that a dominant purpose is found within the containment objective rather than the market development or humanitarian objectives. The following are some recorded examples of American punishments mainly executed during the 1960’s. Table 27.10 includes twenty-one examples of American punishments of other countries where foreign aid has been used as a tool. Most of the examples are drawn from the period 1962 to 1966. Thus, Table 27.10 does not provide an overall picture of American uses of foreign aid as a power instrument. Further studies on American recent history can obviously lead to a significant enlargement of such a list. Furthermore, most examples in Table 27.10 relate to the containment objective. This aspect has been central in American debate, thus leading to more extensive Table 27.10 Examples of American Foreign Aid Punishments. I. Mainly Related to the Containment Objective 1. No aid to Communist countries: Exclusion of Cuba and North Vietnam from food aid, according to Food and Peace Act, 1966 (Nelson, p. 25). 2. No aid to Socialist countries: reduction of aid to Goulart regime in Brazil (Magdoff, p. 137 f) and Allende regime in Chile (NACLA, p. 14). 3. No aid to countries positive to radical regimes in other countries; Suspension of food shipments to UAR in 1954 (Thorp, p. 136), in 1965 (Nelson, p. 119, Thorp, p. 136) and in 1966 (Nelson, p. 119). 4. No aid to regimes too undemocratic to be effectively anti-Communist: Suspension of commercial imports to South Vietnam, 1963 (Nelson, p. 101), suspension of aid to a number of military juntas in Latin America immediately after take-over, 1962–1966 (Argentina, Peru, Guatemala, Dominican Republic, Honduras, Bolivia, see Nelson, p. 99). 5. No aid to countries at war with one another instead of ‘fighting Communism’: reduction of food aid to Indonesia, 1963–1965 to stop confrontation with Malaysia (Nelson, p. 26, p. 117, Thorp, p. 136) suspension of aid to India and Pakistan, 1965–1966 (Nelson, p. 26, p. 117, Thorp, p. 137). 6. No aid to regimes unwilling to accept US agreements on its behalf: Suspension of aid to Conservatives to make them accept a coalition government, Laos, 1962 (Nelson, p. 102) II. Mainly Related to the Market Maintenance and Development Objective 1. No aid to countries trying to nationalize property of US companies: Honduras trying to expropriate United Fruit properties (Barnet, p. 155), Ceylon trying to nationalize Esso and Caltex gas stations, 1963–1965 (Nelson, p. 25, p. 109). 2. No aid to countries who want to take over functions held by US companies: India trying to handle fertilizer distribution itself, thus replacing a US company (Magdoff, p. 128). 3. No aid to countries trying to initiate nationalistic economic policies: cf. 1.2 above Sources: Nelson, J. M., Aid, Influence and Foreign Policy, New York, 1968; Magdoff, H., The Age of Imperialism , New York, 1969; NACLA, Latin America and Empire Report, October 1975; Thorp, W. L., The Reality of Foreign Aid, New York, 1971; Barnet, R. J., Roots of War, New York, 1972.

27.4

Experiences of American Grain Power

529

analysis. Examples of punishments related to market objectives for individual firms are few, probably because studies on this problem are few. Table 27.10 gives only a very rough indication of the uses of foreign aid. Further investigations are necessary in order to draw more solid conclusions. Nevertheless some comments can be made. First, the anti-Communist objective is pronounced in the punishment as well as in the reward approach. By using both the stick and the carrot, the American leadership evidently expects to steer countries in the directions desired by it. Foreign aid is only one of many tools utilized for the purpose. Second, the punishments listed refer to foreign aid in general. Thus the list does not contain punishments where only food has been concerned. It remains to be disentangled whether food aid has been reduced together with other aid or not. For instance, in 1965 foreign aid was withdrawn from Peru in a dispute on tax concessions to the US company IPC. In this case food aid was not affected, although other types of aid were reduced.31 In the case of the fertilizer distribution dispute with India, however, only food shipments were used as a tool.32 Third, the objective of market maintenance and/or development has mostly been used for the purposes of other American enterprises than those engaged in grain trade. Thus, foreign aid was reduced to further the interests of United Fruit, Esso, and Caltex,33 but not the grain companies. This points to an interesting aspect of internal American politics where certain companies tend to be more influential (particularly the oil companies) than others. Fourth, there is not necessarily a conflict between the two objectives given in Table 27.10. To ‘contain Communism’ could at the same time mean the development of markets for American trade. Thus, the goal of overthrowing Goulart and Allende was shared both by economic and strategic circles in the United States. Fifth, the list includes no punishment related to the humanitarian objective. The idea of conditioning food aid with, for instance, population control programs has frequently been voiced, but is in principle difficult to reconcile with humanitarian concerns. Sixth, the twenty-one examples in Table 27.10 are concentrated to a few regions in the world. Ten examples refer to Latin America and an additional eight to South and Southeast Asia. The Latin American region constitutes economically as well as strategically an area under U.S. dominance. The interruption of foreign aid here has been one of many other forms of influence exerted by the United States. South and South-East Asia are areas of less direct economic significance, but they have had a crucial role to play in American global strategy. Also in this area, foreign aid manipulation has been only one of several different forms of American influence. Seventh, American punishments appear—although the basis for this comment is somewhat weak—to be graded according to the size of the receiver. Thus, India has

31

Nelson, J. M., Aid, Influence and Foreign Policy, New York, 1968, p. 110. Magdoff, H., The Age of Imperialism, New York 1969, p. 128. 33 Loc.cit. 32

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Scarce Goods as Political Weapons: The Case of Food

been a relatively large receiver of food aid. In this case, the U.S. Government preferred not to reduce or stop shipments of food, but rather placed them on a month-to-month basis. In this way, pressure was maintained without disrupting the total aid program. In other cases, however, disruption has been more sudden, as, for instance, against some of the Latin American juntas, but this has concerned countries receiving relatively small amounts of aid. The policy of gradual reduction was also utilized against the Goulart and Allende regimes. Probably the expectation is that difficulties will accumulate for the regimes, without making the U.S. contribution to such a development too obvious. Simultaneously, it gives time to find alternative markets for American food affected by the actions. Eight, it is difficult to evaluate the degree of American goal achievement. The regimes in Cuba and North Vietnam were not shaken by the American punishments (rather the opposite occurred). UAR made some concessions to the American government, but only temporarily. Indonesia did not stop its confrontation with Malaysia. On the other hand, the reduction of American foreign aid served as signals for anti-governmental groups to overthrow regimes undesired by the United States. This was the effect of the punishments of the Diem regime in South Vietnam in 1963 as well as the Goulart and Allende regimes. In these cases, the American government initiated covert action to stimulate the desired coup. The utility of the punishments consequently will depend on factors such as whether they are part of a mobilization of forces against the government in office. Ninth, there are always possibilities for governments exposed to American punishments to take counter-actions. Theoretically, a government can seek alternative suppliers, adjust internal consumption to lower levels (rationing being one way of distributing effects equally in society), or (in a long-term perspective) try to stimulate internal production. The success of a government in carrying out such policies depends ultimately on its popularity, legitimacy, and control over crucial power organs.

27.4.4 The Use of American Grain Power Both the reward approach and the punishment approach have been frequently employed by the United States Government. Most frequently we find the dominant objective to be either strategic (i.e. anti-Communist) or economic (i.e. market development). The two approaches do not exclude each other, as punishments mostly cannot be inflicted unless rewards have been given before. The limits of grain power are seen in the context of polarized countries. The United States has tried to support regimes exposed to strong internal opposition by extending food aid (as well as other types of aid). There exists no clear-cut example of such a policy being particularly successful. Rather, unstable regimes remain unstable or are overthrown. Thus, often American attempts have proved futile. On the other hand, food aid has been interrupted (often gradually) to countries with regimes based on popular support and ideologies unacceptable to the United States.

27.4

Experiences of American Grain Power

531

In cases where such regimes have had strong internal control, very little impact can be seen. However, in cases of strong internal polarization, the American actions have stimulated opposition to carry out coups, with direct or indirect American support. Such coups have not stabilized the situation, but rather lead to strong repression, elitism, militarism, and further polarization of society. The American uses of food power have consequently been directed against popular forces trying to articulate hopes of the bottom layers of society. For a period, such aspirations may be halted, but in the long run, the ground is prepared for fundamental changes.

27.5

Remedies for American Grain Power

The United States plays a crucial role in world grain trade. The scarcity of grain, the limited number of suppliers, dispersed demands and the relative American independence of action are factors which contribute to a political use of food. Predictions for the future seem often to expect little change in any of these variables. That assumes, however, that there is no interest in bringing about changes. The four variables which explain the American power position can also be used to change this very position. The rest of the world does not need to be subject to American dominance if it consciously wants to avoid it. The following are some examples of possible alternatives.

27.5.1 Reduction of Scarcity Global scarcity can be reduced in two ways, either through increased production or through decreased consumption. The long-term goal must be the achievement of self-sufficiency in the Third World (regionally, nationally, or locally). In many cases, this makes necessary very fundamental changes in social structure, e.g. exchanging reliance on luxury exports for internal orientation. Given, for the nearest period of time, increasing demand from the Third World for imports of grain, scarcity remains an acute problem and luxury exports the only solution to it. Scarcity can, however, be reduced by decreasing demand for grain in the rich countries. Presently, the direction of development is the opposite one so that increasing meat consumption in rich countries increases scarcity more rapidly than does the population growth in poor countries. Thus, by decreasing the grain consumption of the rich, more is available for the poor. Global prices would thereby be prevented from increasingly leaving resources for internal agricultural development in the Third World.

532

27

Scarce Goods as Political Weapons: The Case of Food

27.5.2 Reduction of Supply Concentration A number of countries have resources to become permanent exporters of grain. Some are found in the rich, Capitalist world, e.g. Sweden. By entering the world market, such producers could affect present scarcity as well as provide competition to the United States. Particularly, this would open alternative supply to governments exposed to U.S. use of grain power.

27.5.3 Reduction of Demand Dispersion A great number of countries are now competing to receive and/or buy the scarce amounts of grain available on the world market. This provides an ideal situation for the use of grain as a weapon. Instead of fighting internally, the consumers could unite into an international consumer’s association. Thereby they will gain bargaining power, and thus be able to reduce the economic and political costs of buying grain from the United States and other rich countries. Recently, grain deals between the United States and three other countries (the Soviet Union, Poland, and Japan34) have included stable prices, longer periods of contracts and, thus, stable shipments. Such agreements should preferably be made on a global scale, not between individual countries.

27.5.4 Reduction of American Action Independence Two possibilities exist. American uses of food power can be restricted either through internal or through external barriers. U.S. Congress decided in December 1975 on a number of regulations.35 It remains to be seen whether the decisions will have an impact. Most likely, such actions have to be supplemented with the construction of international constraints. These can take very different forms, for instance, the formation of meat exporters cartels (i.e. reversed food power) or international control over grain trade. A number of alternatives are open to the international community to handle the problem of American grain power. Certainly, the United States has formidable weapons in its hand and is increasingly adding new ones, for instance, the satellite surveillance system for crop estimation.36 The international disunity of the rest of the world and the internal fragility of many countries, particularly in the Third 34

Business Week, December 15, 1975, pp. 55–56. Congressional Quarterly, Weekly Reports, Dec 13, 1975, p. 2705ff. 36 This program was initiated in the summer of 1975, see R. E. Bell, Department of Agriculture, Congressional hearing, June 3, 1975, Food Problems of Developing Countries, op.cit., p. 52. 35

27.5

Remedies for American Grain Power

533

World, remain fundamental conditions for American dominance. Without popular support, control over military forces, and an economic policy favoring the broad masses, Third World governments will be weak also in the future, giving little ground for influencing the general pattern of dominance in the international system. This is perhaps the most crucial challenge of American food power.

Chapter 28

The Politics of Base Closing: Some Swedish Experiences Peter Wallensteen

Abstract This study takes up the debate on whether disarmament could release resources for development. It was done by Peter Wallensteen in 1978 and looks at conditions in Sweden. Proposals for closing of military bases sparked such a discussion. In this work one of these debates is scrutinized to see which arguments gained the upper hand. Concerns for defending the locality stood against hopes for local development from freeing space and other resources. The chapter also illustrates the political maneuvering that base closing gives rise to, demonstrating that disarmament requires considerable political prowess.

28.1

Introduction

The question of closing military bases often illustrates economic dynamics involved in disarmament, and by inference, in armament. The economic implications raised by armaments can be seen in many different ways, either in terms of direct effects on government spending (changes of expenditure and revenue), on personnel (employment opportunities) or on direct effects (communities or corporations involved).1 Many economic contradictions can emerge in the process of disarmament and this has prompted the following study of some recent Swedish experiences. Sweden has for a long time played an important role in international disarmament negotiations and would, if is understood, loyally implement any international agreement on the reduction armed forces. However, Swedish polices sometimes become contradictory, as it also has a military establishment of rather unique proportions. Thus, Sweden devotes considerable resources to military research, to arms development and production, engages in arms trade and in intelligence operations. However, Swedish military expenditure is seldom regarded as a 1

Published in Peter Wallensteen (ed) 1978. Experiences in Disarmament. On Conversion of Military Industry and the Closing of Military Bases. Uppsala University, Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Report No 19. Reproduced with permission. Based on research funded by the Bank of Sweden Tercentenary Fund (RJ). © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_28

535

536

28 The Politics of Base Closing: Some Swedish Experiences

profitable economic investment. Rather, its heavy military-industrial complex is seen as a burden for the economy and as a price to be paid for the policy of neutrality. Disarmament would, it is generally agreed, serve as a stimulant for economic growth. All this is true for the national level of decision-making. In local politics, however, the situation might look very different. National military expenditures presently take a little less than four percent of the Swedish GNP. In a local economy, the significance of a given military base might be even less. Still, the issue of closing a military installation appears to give raise to powerful objections, mostly building on economic arguments. This chapter pertains, firstly, to showing the contradictions emerging from Sweden’s decision to re-located military installations and secondly, to an evaluation of these findings in the light of disarmament.

28.2

Narrowing Margins for Military Expenditure

In the middle of the 1960’s military expenditure was increasingly criticized in Sweden. The threats of the Cold War were dwindling in the aftermath of the Cuban crisis. Demands for social reforms began conspicuously to compete with the costs of military expenditure. The defense decisions of 1968 initiated a greater scrutiny of military demands, and greater political control over the defense budget. In the following years, the huge aircraft project, Viggen, was cut down and the defense decision of 1972, in fact, would not allow military expenditures to keep pace with inflation. Even if the decisions were not conceived in those terms, strategists and military planners regarded the Swedish policy as one of partial disarmament. The 1977 defense decision did not change the trend. From a political point of view the increased harshness against military demands were motivated both by diminishing threats to Sweden’s security and by a desire to make popular reforms, for instance, favoring retired people or families with children. However, the intention was not to seriously weaken Sweden’s military capability. The doctrine of a strong defense capacity was supported by the four big parties. The defense decisions were said to meet Sweden’s demands for security in the future as it had in the past. However, this also resulted in a desire to “rationalize” Swedish defense: with a more effective utilization of installations, staff and conscripts the same output would be assured. From a military point of view, the defense decisions were a new experience. Since the Second World War, military leaders had become accustomed to receiving littler or not objection from the political decisions-makers to their demands. The Cold War period was one of a rapid growth in military efficiency, constantly adding new aircrafts, weapons and techniques to the military arsenal. However, the decisions of 1968, 1972 and 1977 made all this difficult. Military planners could see how new weapons were developed and included in the regular units of the super-powers. Also, the cost of acquiring new weapons for Sweden was rising rapidly. It was evident that it would not be possible for Sweden

28.2

Narrowing Margins for Military Expenditure

537

to keep pace with the super-powers as had been the case before. Thus, the military leadership saw a ‘rationalization’ of defense as the only possibility: with more effective utilization of existing installations, staff and conscripts, financial resources would be saved, possibly to be used for the purchase of new equipment. Thus, a coalition emerged between the political and military leadership: to press for a re-organization of Swedish defense in order to save money: Evidently, the expectations might have been contradictory as to how to use the savings, but nevertheless a basis for cooperation emerged. In 1967, a committee was appointed to make suggestions for administrative changes in the Swedish defense forces: the Committee for Peace-Time Organization of Swedish defense (FFU). The committee has changed composition and been enlarged, but it continues, in 1978, to be active.

28.3

The Politics of Base-Closure

FFU has made a number of suggestions on closing down bases, re-locating military installations, re-organizing functions within defense and for creating a new regiment. Not all these proposals have been accepted by the military leadership, the government or by Parliament, Riksdagen. For instance, the Committee argued, in a bold move in 1972, for the disbanding of four regiments and five military sites. The government decided to pursue only some of the proposals and, furthermore, Parliament temporarily postponed even some of these. By spring 1978, the net result is only the closing down of two air force bases and one anti-aircraft regiment. The army, even considering the re-location of some schools and other units, by 1978 has approximately the same geographical distribution as when the whole exercise was initiated. Basically, the achievement is the replacement of one armored regiment by an entirely new unit. The savings could not be spectacular, taking into account the costs of creating a new site for the new unit in Arvidsjaur, a remote area in Northern Sweden (requiring housing, air field, training ground, barracks and social comforts) and of moving two regiments to new premises (the distance are not very long, the shift hardly noticeable from a military point of view, but the moves are certainly costly). The Committee, undoubtedly, had a strong backing from political and military leaders. Still, it could not achieve even the modest task of disbanding a few regiments and re-locate others. The military argument against closing a base were often not very strong, on the contrary, many suggestions were endorsed by the Commander-in-Chief as well as the Commanders of the Army or Air Force. The budget pressure for reduction was also strong. The main force of objection in stead has come from another source: the local communities affected by the closings. The anticipated economic effects spurred local leadership to vigorously resist any closing – in their community, that is. Actually implemented base closings, consequently, appear more to have resulted from lacking mobilization on the part of the affected local community than from careful central planning.

538

28 The Politics of Base Closing: Some Swedish Experiences

From the point of view of local leadership bases provide economic benefits through their indirect contributions to local revenue: those employed will pay local taxes and buy some local products, the conscripts will purchase on the local market. On the other hand, a base, of course, also increases local communal expenditures: it will require some urban development, social services (schooling, etc.). Whether a base actually contributes to regional economic development or is a burden for it, has not been explored more consistently. Facing a local base closure, however, local leadership tend to see it in terms of a loss for the community, it will use political leverage to avoid a base closing – of course, agreeing to the necessity of some bases being closed but developing particular arguments for maintaining ‘its’ base. However, not all military installations are equally worthwhile to defend, from a local point of view. Thus, there appears to be a difference between air force installations and army bases. Of the two proposals made by FFU for closing air force facilities, both were accepted. Among FFU’s many suggestions for closing army bases only two had – by spring 1978 – passed the political ordeal. The reasons for this could be interesting to investigate. Firstly, there is a need for airplanes in order to have air forces bases. With the Swedish air force reducing in number, it is hard to fight for keeping a possibly unutilized base. The army builds its training on conscripts, which appear to come in never diminishing numbers. Thus, opposition to air force reductions will be less credible. Secondly, they are very different in regional economic impact. Air force installations tend to be more capital-intensive, use fewer staff and have fewer conscripts, than army installations. Thus, their local economic impact will be significantly less. Thirdly, their social image could be quite different: air force bases placed centrally make a lot of noise and thus appear disturbing. Those that are placed peripherally, on the other hand, will not appear part of the community at all. The army regiments, however, are often older, more related to the history of the region (particularly in their names) and consequently more integrated socially. Local leaders then will have better reasons and more communal support for opposing the closing of an army base than for maintaining an air force installation. The main drive for Swedish base closing has been financial: some savings are achieved for the national budget. The expected surplus, then, can be used for different purposes, and, indeed the expectation for arriving at a certain surplus for certain purposes appear, as suggested above, to make central authorities agree on the necessity of base closing. However, the hopes on a national level tend to give rise to fear on a local level. Let us explore this contradiction along two dimensions: implicates for defense and for social reform.

28.3.1 Contradictions in Defense Priorities From a national leadership concerned with defense capabilities, the base closing is supported because money will be released for purchasing new weapons or arms

28.3

The Politics of Base-Closure

539

systems. Base closing in fact means a reduction in personnel, in more or less ‘idle’ investments and thus yield surpluses to be used for acquisition of technologically advanced equipment. However, for a local leadership (either military or civilian) the closing of a given base can be seen as reduction in defense capabilities of that region. Various scenarios could be suggested emphasizing its importance also for the nation as a whole. Defense matters, of course, are in the forefront of the military leadership. Base closing, we would suggest involves a latent conflict between national and local military leadership, the former probably more prone to emphasize the possibilities to buy new technology, the latter more interested in the local defense capabilities. Indeed the very definition of their jobs implies a contradiction. The national leadership should see to the nation as a whole the local military leadership should observe local implications.

28.3.2 Contradictions in Social Reform Base closing saves national expenditure, thus releasing resources for urgent reform needs. In principle, it could also take the form of tax reductions, (i.e. a concomitant reduction of revenue). From the local point of view, however, there tend to be a fear that base closing will result in the reduction of local tax revenue, due to the reduction the number of inhabitants and in local consumption. It could cripple the capacity of the local community to pursue its social reform program. However, it could also be argued that a base closing will result in reduction of local expenditure, parallel to the reduction of local revenue: fewer inhabitants will of course also require less service. In fact, there appears seldom to be any investigations into the question whether a base as such is profitable (contributing to the local economy more than it drains it). Social reform matters are in the Swedish context particularly a concern of the political leadership, nationally as well as locally We would here suggest a latent conflict between these two types of leadership on the ground that national leaders expect to gain (in reform capability), while the local ones expect to loose from a base closing. The latent conflict should be particularly obvious within reform-oriented parties, such as Socialist and Socio-Liberal parties. Possibly, also other national-local contradictions could be traced in the base closing activities, for instance, concerning personnel or conscripts. For the present purposes, however, the defense and reform issues are of particular concern as both of them imply financial priorities and are highly politically relevant. Now let us assume that each political group attaches a value to consensus and that contradictions thus preferably are concealed or dissolved. This means that, for instance, political parties will try to arrive at policy lines which dissolves the contradiction between national and local viewpoints. Thus, for a Conservative party it would be more important to formulate a ‘line’ which shows party unity for a strong defense without making obvious the difficulties in operationalizing this stand

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28 The Politics of Base Closing: Some Swedish Experiences

Table 28.1. National-Local Contradictions in Base Closings: Arguments and Dissolution. Source: The author. Main Concern Defense National Level Argument Local Level Argument Arguments dissolving the contradiction

Implication

Base closing frees money for purchase of new arms and equipment, thus improving over-all defense capacity Base closing leaves local area defenseless, destroys historical ties Maintain bases in strategically ‘central’ areas of the country, close those in “peripheral ones”, Develop mobile defense strategy 1. How to define ‘central’ and ‘peripheral’ becomes key 2. Gives heavy weight to ‘defense’ criteria

Social Reform Base closing free resources for new reforms in other sectors of society, thus improving over-all welfare Base closing leaves local community with reduced revenue and lower capacity for local reforms Maintain bases in economically ‘weak’ communities, close those in ‘strong’ ones

1. How to define ‘weak’ and ‘strong’ becomes crucial 2. Gives heavy weight to the ‘community strength’ argument

in a given situation. Similarly, also parties attaching significance to social reform would try to find a ‘line’ combining national and local view points into over-all unity. Table 28.1 tries to trace the nature of the contradictions, possible solutions and their implications for political debates. So far, we have discussed in theory about the politics of base closing. Let us now proceed to an empirical analysis of the Swedish debate on this issue. During the 1970’s the Swedish Parliament debated base closings thoroughly on three occasions: 1973, 1975 and 1978. At all occasions there existed initial proposals from the FFU, followed up in revised forms by the government. Presently, we will settle for an analysis of the 1973 debate, which probably was the most extensive one, and also the most complicated one.

28.4

The 1973 Decision: Eliminate One, Add Another

Before the crucial elections of 1973, the Social Democratic government made its first proposal on the work of the FFU. It suggested the closing down of one armored regiment (P1 in Enköping), the moving of a signal regiment (S1, from Uppsala to Enköping) and the opening of an entirely new unit (K4, Arvidsjaur). The proposal to dismantle the armored regiment was a result of the FFU and the ambition to save money in the national budget. FFU had considered several alternatives and

28.4

The 1973 Decision: Eliminate One, Add Another

541

calculated that savings would be made by eliminating the expensive armored training, using the Enköping premises for signal troops and disposing of old facilities in Uppsala.2 The proposal to construct a new regiment in Arvidsjaur, a remote community in Northern Sweden, grow out of entirely different considerations: the need for new investment in order to alleviate the relative stagnation of this community.3 The proposal on Enköping-Uppsala was argued in terms of savings for the national budget: expenditure for military bases would be reduced. The proposal on Arvidsjaur, however, argued in terms of revenue for the local budget: positive economic effects would vitalize the community. Of course, this meant as well that all savings accruing from the former proposal would be used in order to pursue the latter and the net result consequently become nil (or even negative, due to costs of moving regiments, carrying out entirely new constructions, etc.). From a local perspective, the proposals were neatly laid out. Uppsala, fourth biggest community in the country, would loose one of its military installations, Enköping, a medium-sized community would have its existing regiment traded for another thus breaking even, and poor Arvidsjaur would drawn the benefits of having new investments. Thus, the proposal seemed well to meet the compromise solutions indicated in Table 28.1: the ‘strong’ gives to the ‘weak’. Debates in press, local communities and in Parliament became intense, however. Using some of the material, mainly from the Parliamentary records, some of the hypotheses implied in the preceding section can be illuminated.

28.4.1 Uppsala-Enköping 28.4.1.1

Contradicting Defense Concerns

The Uppsala-Enköping proposal actually meant that one regiment would disappear from the Mälaren region, one of the most populous ones in the country containing several cities (Stockholm, Uppsala, Västerås, Eskilstuna) and thus of great importance for defending the Swedish population. The military leadership (the Commander-in-Chief and the Chief of the Army) both argued that regiments should be placed in this area, rather than in sparsely populated ones in order to make for swift military mobilization. Thus, in order to save money, the armored regiment in

Förslag till ändring av fredsorganisationen i fråga om arméförband, Försvarsdepartementet, stencilbetänkande 1972:4, pp. 70–76. 3 See for instance, Fredsförband i Arvidsjaur – en samhällsekonomisk utvärdering. Försvarsdepartementet 1973-04-25. 2

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28 The Politics of Base Closing: Some Swedish Experiences

Enköping should be converted to an infantry base and the signal troops in Uppsala maintained.4 It follows from this that the Arvidsjaur location was resisted by the military leadership. The Ministry of Defense, however, argued that the proposal of the military leadership would result in too many infantry regiments too close to one another, if the armored regiment was converted: “it would be irrational to have three infantry units close to each other.” The one in Enköping would necessarily have to yield.5 Uppsala, in reply to this, said that it could not find anything ‘irrational’ about this at all.6 The Parliamentary committee investigating the issue did not quarrel about the ‘rationality’ but only decided that in view of the need for savings one unit had to be dissolved.7 The Conservative Party argued that the proposal of the military leadership was most sensible because closing one regiment should “reduce the supply of combat troops in the essential Stockholm area”, which, in view of increasing great power capability to carry out air invasions was “particularly disquieting”.8 The party, consequently opposed the government proposal on Enköping and Uppsala. Also, some Center Party MPs followed the argument that the regiment in Enköping should be converted and that the Uppsala regiment be maintained.9 The groups particularly anxious about defense matters appear to have been able to formulate a strategy where the conflict between national and local concerns could be reduced. By converting the regiment in Enköping to an infantry unit one would at the same time achieve some savings and maintain significant military resources in a central region. This line not only kept the Conservative Party together, but also provided a link to military chief as well as to communal interest who could find military arguments for their opposition to any reduction. However, the savings arising from this were not specified, but could hardly be very spectacular. 28.4.1.2

Contradicting Local Concerns

The government as well as the Parliamentary committee and FFU departed from the idea that one regiment had to be reduced in the Mälaren region. The Enköping facilities were regarded as least suited for infantry. At the same time, however, “a closing of P1 without corresponding replacements…could lead to serious unemployment and economic problems in Enköping” the Parliamentary committee argued. Thus, it would need a replacement. The signal troops from Uppsala were

4

Some of the military critique is reproduced in the government proposal to the Parliament, Prop. 1973: 135, pp. 44, 48. 5 Promemoria, Försvarsdepartementet 1973-11-20. 6 Promemoria, Uppsala kommun, 1973-12-05. 7 Försvarsutskottet 1973: 26, p. 11. 8 Motion 1973: 2074, p. 4. 9 Motion 1973: 2080.

28.4

The 1973 Decision: Eliminate One, Add Another

543

regarded as the most appropriate alternative.10 This was based on FFU’s evaluation that the facilities in Uppsala were old and would require considerable reconstruction. The facilities in Enköping were, however, modern and suitable. More important was, however, the fact that Uppsala was big, had a “natural growth” and that the expansion of the city would require the land presently used by the signal troops.11 FFU, the government and the Parliamentary committee consequently found a very solid line of argument for depriving Uppsala of its signal troops: It would be a transfer from a ‘strong’ community to a ‘weaker’ one, and Uppsala was in fact so ‘strong’ as to actually benefit (not lose) from the removal of the regiment: impediments to urban planning would be removed. From a social reform point of view, both Enköping and Uppsala would, thus break even by shifting location of the regiment. Uppsala still did not want to loose its regiment. The local leadership used, as seen above, military arguments to keep S1. Also, it tried to argue that the community was no longer as expansive as it had been before. The plans, published by the community itself in 1969, which clearly specified the community’s interest in taking over the land of the regiment,12 were now argued to be obsolete.13 The community could also support its argument on the views of the chief of S1, who argued that the regiment would not require new land and would not be hampered by various big roads on its land.14 Uppsala, consequently, tried to portray itself as a no longer expansive community, thus not only needing all employment opportunities possible but also no longer posing any demands on military land. A discussion emerged on whether Uppsala was ‘strong’, as the national authorities argued, or ‘weak’, as Uppsala maintained. Uppsala being a large community was able to muster considerable support in Parliament. Not only could it provide arguments and counter-arguments through its own research resources, but it could also ally itself with those opposing reductions on defense grounds. A remarkable event ‘helped’ Uppsala for the time being. In the midst of the treatment of the government proposal, the Tele Communication Company of Sweden voiced a fear that the re-location of military signal troops to Enköping would interfere with civilian installations in the same area. The Parliamentary committee was very impressed by this argument (as well as the main force in the opposition) and suggested to the Parliament that the decision on S1 should be postponed. Thus, the Parliament had to vote on a proposal for closing the regiment in Enköping, but with a promise that another military unit would be found to replace it!

10

Försvarsutskottet 1973:26 p. 11. Förslag till ändring, op.cit., pp. 70–73. 12 Generalplan 69, Uppsala kommun 1969. 13 Promemoria, Uppsala kommun 1973-12-05. 14 Yttrande, Kgl. Upplands signalregemente, 1973-01-29. 11

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28 The Politics of Base Closing: Some Swedish Experiences

The Parliamentary committee certainly managed to spark off a new debate, this time concentrating on whether the whole decisions should be postponed or only the part concerning Uppsala. Those against the whole proposal on Enköping-Uppsala came to argue for a complete postponement, those in favor of the Enköping-Uppsala proposal argued for a decision now. The voting record in the Parliament, Riksdagen, became the following: For closing Enköping expecting move from Uppsala shortly Against decision now Abstaining

178 110 21

Looking at the party distribution of these votes Table 28.2 emerges. From Table 28.2 it appears that the line formulated by the Social Democratic government gained support also from the Center Party. The egalitarian nature of the proposal (taking from the ‘rich’ community giving to a ‘poorer’ one) simultaneously appeals both to the Socialist and decentralist Parliamentarians. However, the line of defense concerns originally formulated by the military leadership managed to keep the Conservative Party intact on this issue. The Liberal Party actually could be predicted to be divided between these two lines, but preserved unity by the complications of the Tele Communication Company. It gave a possibility to conceal contradictions by uniting on a demand for postponement. Some of the dissidents in the Center Party probably followed this line as well. The remainder of the dissidents of the Center Party and all the disagreeing Social Democrats are of interest. This opposition stemmed mostly from the Uppsala objections and all representatives from Uppsala actually found a united front here: all objected to the proposal, on various grounds. This meant that the issue would not be come a local conflict. Rather all politicians could be regarded as defending the “local interest” equally well. Still, the Uppsala grouping was so small in the Parliament that this opposition would not threaten the over-all decision: the majority was still very solid in favor of the government’s proposal. This means that one of our assumptions in the preceding section has to revised: it assumed a general interest in concealing contradictions within a given party. In this case, however, the opposite might have been true: It was functional, both for the Social Democrats and the Center Party to have a local opposition, as long as it did not threaten to result in a defeat of the main party line. Table 28.2. Voting on the Enköping-Uppsala Proposal. Swedish Parliament December 13, 1973. Source: The author. Conservatives Liberal Party Center Party Social Democrats Communists Total

For the Proposal

Against the Proposal

Abstaining

Total

0 0 43 134 1 178

38 47 15 10 0 110

0 0 7 0 14 21

38 47 65 144 15 309

28.4

The 1973 Decision: Eliminate One, Add Another

545

28.4.2 Arvidsjaur The decision on a new regiment in Arvidsjaur involved less of a contradiction within a given set of argument and more contradiction between the two different sets. Let us quickly reconstruct the main arguments. 28.4.2.1

Defense Concerns

Few arguments on defense were raised for locating the regiment to Arvidsjaur. The military leadership was definitely opposed to this location. The Conservative Party followed the same line, although indicated that the North of Sweden would require some new units, possibly in the Kalix area,15 which also was indicated by the local military chief.16 28.4.2.2

Local (Social Reform) Concerns

The bulk of the arguments for the new regiment were based on the need for an injection to the regional economy. The arguments were thus quite consisted on both grounds. The Parliamentary discussion was one of defense concerns vs. regional economics. The proponents of each line described the necessity and importance of that particular line. However, those objecting to the location on defense grounds argued that local economy would be better stimulated by productive investments. Furthermore, it would not be particularly wise to locate Swedish defense on local economic grounds in the long run, it was argued. Some of the speakers defending the location on economic grounds debated the use of military installations for civilian purposes. Thus, a Communist MP argued that “as long as we are forced to have a military apparatus, it could be rational to locate it in this fashion.” There was nothing wrong in using the high expenditures for defense for regional economic support, though admittingly, “if nothing else happens Arvidsjaur will soon be a regiment in a depopulated area.”17 The Social Democrat Defense Minister had another vision, seeing military defense as “a part of a living Swedish society…creating improved opportunities for a community.”18 As the arguments in this discussion more went passed each other, the complications also were less striking in the final voting in Riksdagen, the Parliament:

15

Motion 1973: 2074, p. 5. As quoted in the Parliamentary debate; Riksdagens protokoll 1973:157, p. 190. 17 Ibid. p. 162 (Löwenborg). 18 Ibid, p. 186 (Holmquist). 16

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28 The Politics of Base Closing: Some Swedish Experiences

Table 28.3. Voting on Arvidsjaur Proposal, Swedish Parliament December 13, 1973. Source: The author. Conservatives Liberal Party Center Party Social Democrats Communists Total

For the Proposal

Against the Proposal

Abstaining

Total

0 34 61 144 15 254

38 6 0 0 0 44

0 7 3 0 0 10

38 47 64 144 15 308

For a regiment in Arvidsjaur Against a regiment in Arvidsjaur Abstaining

254 44 10

The dissidents were considerably fewer in the Arvidsjaur case than in the Uppsala-Enköping situation. Only in the Liberal Party, the opposition had significant proportions, almost one quarter of its MPs objecting. On the whole, the social reform parties could muster all their Parliamentarian to support the proposed location (Table 28.3). 28.4.2.3

Comparisons

The votes on the two issues had some interesting discrepancies which need to be explored. First, it is apparently more popular to build a new regiment than to take down an old one. 254 Parliamentarians were for the new one compared to 178 voting to close the other. In actual fact, we find that 57 Parliamentarians were both against the closing of one regiment and for constructing a new one. This means that they were in practice argued for an increase in the armed forces! This inconsistency includes the Liberal Party which as a whole was against closing down in Enköping simultaneously being in favor of opening in Arvidsjaur. Probably, this position was taken under the assumption that it would not gain majority. But then it means the party was playing for the gallery and not pursuing serious politics. We can observe the general attitude of favoring new constructions rather than closing down old ones also in the fact that not one single Parliamentarian simultaneously opposed the Arvidsjaur regiment and supported the closing of the Enköping installation: the disarmament faction was completely lacking in the voting. Second, it appears that the bigger the community involved, the more fierce the resistance to base closing. Uppsala managed quite successfully to defer the decision, in spite of the strength of the egalitarian argument. Thus, the potential success of the policy of taking from the ‘rich’ to give to the ‘poor’ community could be questioned.

28.4

The 1973 Decision: Eliminate One, Add Another

547

Third, it appears that the more communities involved, the stronger the resistance. The attempt to play Uppsala against Enköping almost could have backfired. When Uppsala dropped from the scheme Enköping might have gained in support, as it threatened to be without any replacement. Fourth, the more populous the region, the stronger the resistance to base closing. This in a way is simply a corollary to the second point above. However, also military arguments appear to increase in significance when populous regions are touched. In a way this makes sense: the defense of the people should be done where the people lives. This, alternatively means that it is ‘easier’ to close down bases in remote areas. The relative popularity of opening a base in Arvidsjaur contradicts this conclusion, however. Small communities might be able to benefit from sympathy due to their ‘smallness’, particularly from groups inclined to egalitarian thinking.

28.5

Lessons for Disarmament

Swedish base closing has not been conceived in terms of disarmament. In spite of the reduction of regiments, Sweden claims to maintain a strong defense and refutes all ideas about unilateral disarmament moves. Still, the decision on base closing has been seen as disarmament, for instance, by those critics considering Swedish defense being weakened by the reductions. Also, from a local point of view, base closing has been regarded as a decline in defense potential. However, the arguments on defense have not been decisive in the policy of locating regiments. Rather, as this study should make clear, the economic effects of the closings have been in the forefront. As the closing down of regiments would necessarily be part of any comprehensive disarmament effort, this means that some inferences can be made to the politics and economics of disarmament as such. Here three lessons emerge: (a) the economic drawbacks of armaments have to be clarified, (b) disarmament has to be seen as a growing-sum-game, and (c) disarmament requires a national as well as a local political backing.

28.5.1 Economic Drawbacks Savings through reducing national expenditure on military bases mostly appears to be seen as loss in local revenue and stimulates fierce local objections. As we have seen, also political leaders generally in favor of social reform became opponents to reductions in base expenditure. In the case of Arvidsjaur, Socialists were eagerly supporting a new regiment to inject some vitality to the local community. For local leadership the main concern appears defined in terms of strength of the local community: a successful leader builds a community with new buildings, expanding road networks, more jobs, increasing population, etc. These honorable ends tend to justify the means, and “military money” is “as good as any money”.

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28 The Politics of Base Closing: Some Swedish Experiences

This means that armed forces in general and bases in particular are seen as permanent features of society, not as an emergency means required presently but hopefully becoming obsolete in the near future. If bases instead were regarded as necessary evil, necessary for the time being, the removal of the base would mean liberation, not tragedy. If bases as well as other military installations/expenditures are conceived as special and temporary, this means that the community should regard the possible economic benefits emerging from its base as temporary incomes not to be counted on forever. In this way, the closing of a base would not be a loss to the community, but rather a return to a ‘normal’ state of affairs. Furthermore, the negative sides of having bases in the community, apparently seldom have been considered. In a certain way, however it could well be a ‘loss’ to a local community to have a military base within its borders: it will utilize land, require extensive communal services, involve risks to other members of the community (training mostly require shooting, for instance) and – in case of war – constitute a significant target for attack. The economics of armaments need to be calculated more carefully, and the pros and cons to local as well as national economy drawn out clearly. In the case of Swedish base closing, only the authority desiring closing ventured into finding the real costs. However, in a situation where disarmament is not a national goal, the central authority of course will be reluctant to investigate and publish the total costs of military expenditures to the nation.19

28.5.2 A Growing-Sum Game Base closing but also disarmament as a whole is often seen in a zero-sum perspective: a gain for one is the loss of another; national savings result in local expenses. Inevitably this is a function of economic growth and economic strength of communities affected. One idea emerging in Swedish base closing was to dismantle military installations in expansive and rich communities while keeping those (or even constructing new ones) in stagnating and poor communities, in order to distribute losses in an egalitarian way. Furthermore, the zero-sum perspective is less applicable in a growing economy where military installations rather tend to be seen as obstacles to efficient uses of available resources. Under conditions of economic growth, base closing is seen as a growing-sum game: net gains are expected from removal of military installations. Under conditions of economic stagnation, however, a zero-sum attitude will be more likely. The actual effects of base closing have rarely been investigated and in Sweden no studies are available at all. The political conflicts involved tend to reduce interest

One exception is Å. Hjalmarsson, Försvaret i samhällsekonomin, Kgl. Krigsvetenskapsakademiens Tidskrift 1973, pp. 41–103.

19

28.5

Lessons for Disarmament

549

to detailed analysis, as both local and national leadership would fear to have some of their arguments contradicted. Still, it appears that evaluation should be important both from the point of view of continued base closing (there is a lot to learn for the closing down process) and from a disarmament perspective. Interestingly, the only government authority informing on the process is the special office for economic adjustment in the US Department of Defense. This body has, with a lot of ingenuity, administered base closing for many years. It estimated that from 1970 to 1977 it closed down military installations in the US costing about 90 000 civilian jobs. At the same time, through various support activities 110 000 new jobs had been created.20 Swedish base closing is not handled through a central government authority. Instead, matters are dealt with by different agencies, personal matters handled by one, selling of land by another, efforts to attract civilian replacement by a third, etc. In some cases, co-ordinating committees with little authority have been instituted. The lack of central policy became particularly evident in the early 1970’s when a re-location of a number of government units was made. Several offices were moved out from Stockholm and dispersed all over the country. No effort was made, however, to link this activity to the simultaneously on-gong process of base closing. Certainly, few community leaders would have objected to have a military installation exchanged for a government bureaucracy. The conclusion is, however, that disarmament in general and base closing in particular, has to connect to central government stimulation of economy. In particular, special support programs have to be envisaged to stave off adverse regional effects.

28.5.3 Political Power Interest in disarmament emerges through two considerations: – That security dangers in armaments are greater than in disarmament, – The economic losses in armaments are greater than in disarmament. In every political contest there will exist groups trying to invert these equations. It is often the task of military planners to argue that armaments create more security than disarmament. Industrial leaders tend to point to the economic benefits in armaments compared to the unemployment dangers in disarmament. As armaments are part of status quo, the arguments for change have to be overwhelming on both accounts: the security and economy of disarmament has to be shown convincingly. Unless this is possible, political interest in disarmament will not be mobilized. Private communication to the author in interview. See also Milton Leitenberg, ”Base Closing in the United Stats: A Note on the Office of Economic Adjustment” in Wallensteen, Peter (ed) 1978 Experiences in Disarmament, Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research, pp. 136-139.

20

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28 The Politics of Base Closing: Some Swedish Experiences

The balance is, however, finally made up not by the strength of the argument but by the number of people supporting the argument: such an opinion will have significant impact on debate, on elections and on the general attitude of society – even under a dictatorial regime. The experiences of Swedish base closing illustrates the political power question On a national level it was maintained that the balance of the two arguments tipped in favor of base closing: It would both improve national security and the national budget. However, opposition was founded on the arguments that the base closing endangers both local security and local economics. The strength of local opposition impressed national leadership to take a more cautious position. It is then interesting to see that there was very little of popular mobilization in the cases reviewed here. Whether local leadership in fact had popular support for its opposition is not known. At no instance was a local referendum or opinion poll undertaken. Local leaders would not be interested to have such investigations made, while national leaders hardly could question the representativity of local leaders. Not only could opposition to dismantling of bases rely on the inversion of the two fundamental considerations given above. It could also play on the national-local contradiction itself. The work of FFU could be seen as part of a centralized, distant bureaucracy interfering with the work of the community. Due to the relative strength of local sell-government as well as suspicion of ‘bureaucracy’ such arguments could be effective in mobilizing opposition, not only to the base closing but also to future disarmament. Disarmament, in fact, could be opposed on the ground that it looks like a coercive undertaking of central authorities with little regard for local conditions. The dangers are, of course, less in a homogeneous country like Sweden, but could in other context be intensified by coinciding ethnic, religious or other differences. Finally, there is one additional factor explaining local opposition: fierce objections could be part of a bargaining tactic. The more vocal opposition, the more likely either a government retreat or a government support program to stave off effects. Thus, in terms of political tactics, communal leaders could unite in opposition and also draw some support from the local population. Again such a tactic could not be successful unless some very strong arguments could be made on account of the two considerations, thus limiting the credibility of the opposition. However, the bigger the communities, the greater the research capacity and the greater the likelihood of finding some ‘good’ arguments against the base closing! All these factor together point to very fundamental conclusion: disarmament has to rest on active popular support. Such support is more readily available when disarmament is a national goal than is the case of base closing, where in fact central government faced a contradictory position simultaneously claiming to maintain strong defense and closing down military installations. However, also disarmament will involve such a paradox as disarmament is favored on grounds of increasing

28.5

Lessons for Disarmament

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national security while at the same time disbanding a traditional tool of security (in exchange for something else, of course). Thus, disarmament has to be supported by public opinion, political parties, organizations and movements on the national as well as the local level bridging the cleavage between national and local perspectives.

Chapter 29

Disaster and Conflict: Conflict Formations in the Sahel and the Horn of Africa, 1971–1976 Peter Wallensteen

Abstract The severe drought that gripped many countries in Africa in the mid-1970s gave rise to this study of the possible connection with external or internal conflict. In this previously unpublished work from 1981, ten African countries with different impacts are systematically compared with the help of three different models for how drought might connect to armed conflict. Peter Wallensteen finds complex chains of influence, where the standing of nomadic groups may be a key. This work is highly relevant for the discussion of climate change and conflict.

29.1

Introduction

29.1.1 One Problem and Three Models “Hunger and famine have never precipitated war or revolution” one participant in a symposium on “The Role of Food in World Peace” concludes.1 “During a period of starvation...the main result of hunger...is war”, sociologist P.A. Sorokin proposes in a study of Hunger as a Factor in Human Affairs.2 These statements seem widely apart, although the first speaker adds that social unrest may result from shortages in local food supplies, while Sorokin's statement is qualified by the possibility to find food with other means, e.g. emigration, as well as the presence of neighbors that are well supplied with food. War results, he finds

This text has been an in-house document and is here published for the first time. This is an abbreviated version, where the empirical sections and the appendices with data have been excluded. The full text is available with the author. The manuscript was finished in November 1981, when it was submitted to the funder, SAREC. 2 Kark, R.K. 1962. “Food and Hunger in a World of Turmoil” in The Role of Food in World Peace. Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio, pp. 46–47. 1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_29

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from a historical survey, in situations when the hungry attempt to colonize well-fed countries. The debate, in other words is less extreme.3 Still, the underlying notions are highly divergent, one assuming that starving peoples are too weak to change their situations, the other seeing the prospect of weakness as a stimulant for change. In a study of hundred years of rebellions and riots in France, Germany and Italy, Charles Tilly and colleagues finds “food riots” to be particularly frequent up to the middle of the 19th century. Revolts and actions by people threatened with food shortages were numerous, for instance, blocking shipments, occupying granaries and resisting local ordinance. In France and in Germany, a systematic link to high food prices are found, but for France, Tilly et al. concludes, the hardship itself was not the spark that initiated violent action. Rather, it is the perception of violation of duties and rights that make ordinary people attack profiteers: “In general, justice—and conflicting conceptions of justice, at that—lies at the heart of violent conflict. Violent conflict remains close to politics, in origin as well as in impact”.4 Tilly et al. suggests that it is not hunger or the hungry that are motivated to rebel, but those that perceive injustice. Sorokin, on the contrary, does not expect the hungry to bring about justice but only to acquire more food for themselves. The distinction may not be of practical importance, as injustice can be found between fed and unfed, and to get more food means to take from those that have too much. Still, it is of theoretical significance. Although, there might be consensus around the fact that hunger may lead to conflict, this does not tell us why, and what types of conflicts, and between which groups. Such questions remain legitimate, and, given a significant role of the state machinery in providing food in emergencies, boil down to an evaluation of policies pursued. The question that is of interest in this study can be summarized as: under which conditions will severe food shortage lead to conflict within and between states? The writings on hunger are extensive, but seldom approach the question of conflict in particular. Great numbers of economic studies concentrate on variables such as output, prices and resource availability, whereas work on food aid tend to deal with questions of efficiency, and timing of aid. Political scientists may draw clear pictures of power structures, but only in a circumstantial way relate this to conflict phenomena. Historians, anthropologists and sociologists have a greater interest in conflict, but then in conjunction with longer time perspectives or broader ramifications. Nutritionists provide useful investigations in to the health state of a given population, and sometimes make notes of despair. Conflicts tend, consequently, to be left to journalists, who sometimes address the questions of political responsibility or to opposition groups providing lists of government repression. 3

Sorokin, Pitirim A.1975. Hunger as a Factor in Human Affairs, The University Press of Florida, Gainesville, pp. 223. 4 Tilly, C., Tilly, L.
, and Tilly, R. 1975. The Rebellious Century, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Mass, 1975, quote from p. 85, discussion on link to food prices, for France, p. 75 and for Germany, p. 214.

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Introduction

555

Taken together, all these studies contribute to a general description of developments during a disaster. Still, not even disaster literature in general focuses questions of conflict, with some rare but excellent exceptions.5 The extensive literature cannot fail, however, to observe the question of social conflict in connection with severe food shortage. The links suggested seem primarily to be, reduced to their crudest forms, three. As these three are distinct, they are of primary interest and this study will attempt to evaluate their explanatory value. The first model is one of alleviating social frustration. As food scarcity gives rise to dislocations and tension inside a country or in a given region, attention is, more or less deliberately, focused on an easily identifiable enemy. This then can be done in the form of engaging in conflict with that group or state. The model assumes development to take place largely within one and the same unit: tension exists within it, and this is alleviated by a conflict with some other unit. Type of unit seems to matter less. The behavior suggested appears largely to be expressive, rather than instrumental. The model could reach different levels of sophistication, although it seldom does in the hunger literature, for instance separating between relative and absolute deprivation.6 Given data difficulty in measuring more sophisticated versions, it will here be used in a cruder form. In this way, it can be brought to a rather simple test with quantitative data. The second model found in the literature is one of a gradual build up of tension among groups or states competing for the same scarce resources. Rivalry over the distribution of economic goods gradually develops into severe fighting over political control. Escalation, possibly initiated by one actor, but getting out of hand and reaching increasingly higher levels of conflict intensity, is an important notion in this model. As it assumes developments largely to take place between two (or more) actors this is a model of mutual interaction. Also this model can be brought to a test with quantitative methods, but it requires the pair of actors to be the unit of analysis rather than one particular actor. The third model suggests that food shortages result in changing power relationships and that this stimulates actors to engage in conflict. As one actor is weakened, another actor, having a long standing conflict with the disaster-hit one, may use this opportunity to improve its situation. This could mean that attempts are made to take over control over government, or to force a change of borders. In these situations, it is do not suggested that the actor is motivated by hunger itself, only that it presents an opportunity. This model of opportunistic exploitation is more difficult to substantiate with quantitative investigations. Rather, it requires a case-by-case analysis covering different, relevant pairs of actors.

5

A highly interesting article on disaster and conflict is Quarantelli, E.L. and Dynes, Russel R. 1976. “Community Conflict: Its Absence and its Presence in Natural Disasters,” Mass Emergencies, 1, pp. 139–152 6 Cf. Gurr, T.R. 1970. Why Men Rebel, Princeton University Press, Princeton, N.J.

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The three models all assume rational actors, that make a choice between different options, but the models also assume different goals of the key actors. Certainly, most governments will give as one goal for their handling of a crisis their own political and physical survival. But in the first model this might be the only goal, in the second one the actors may not have complete control over events, and according to the third model this can be better enhanced with a more militant strategy. The models are to some extent exclusive, as they point to different types of political dynamics. In the way they have been formulated here they should be open to a comparative analysis. Using the same set of events, this study investigates the value of the three models in explaining the frequency, intensity and direction of conflict behavior in countries affected by serious food shortages.

29.1.2 One Set of Events The comparative evaluation of the three models requires a historical material, which can equally well be handled by all three models. The existence of food shortage is one element in such a database. However, food shortages can result from many different developments, ranging from wars to epidemics, or from blockades to earthquakes. It could also be argued that the models require situations where the responsibility for the food shortages is diffuse, rather than clear. If there is little consensus on why a given society has ended in a particular situation, there might be more frustration, more tension and more opportunities presenting themselves. For instance, food shortages resulting from war immediately links the situation to the fortunes of war. Food shortage resulting from hurricanes or other clearly non-human factors also have ready explanations; not giving rise to uncertainty. Political responsibility could be demanded for lack of emergency operations, but hardly for the disaster itself. For the present purposes, food shortages resulting from drought have been selected. Drought develops slowly over a period of time, indications exist at an early date, but if the rain comes, there will be no food shortage. Furthermore, drought is related to the economic policies pursed with respect to agriculture, livestock, forestry, water, transportation; regional distribution, etc. The links are many and unclear, and different actors can have different interpretations of events. Thus, the three models all could be expected to have some explanatory value. With these considerations in mind, ten African countries have been selected for study, all being exposed to the famines of the first half of the 1970's: Cameroon, Chad, Dahomey/Benin, Ethiopia, Mali, Mauritania, Niger, Senegal, Somalia and Upper Volta. With respect to food shortage they all belong to the countries most often cited, for instance, in FAO Early Warning System during the 1970's. The ten countries, during the years 1973–1974 (for the West African ones and Ethiopia) and 1974–1975 (for Somalia) faced similar situations of severe drought, shortfalls in rain and increased desertification. All became targets for massive international relief operations. Thus, the natural hazard presented to each one of

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Introduction

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them was similar, but the impact in terms of government action, emergence of conflict behavior and resulting political change varied greatly. In terms of complexity, the countries are somewhat different, which also is a reason for selecting them. The size of the population varies, from 1.2 million for Mauritania to 24 million for Ethiopia, the other eight being found in the interval of 2–6 million inhabitants. They are all agricultural producers, chief export products for all being livestock or cash crops like groundnuts and coffee. Mineral exports of greater quantities are found only in Mauritania (iron and copper ore) and in Niger (uranium). The most diversified economies are those of Senegal and Cameroon, but all ten countries belong to the poorest in the world. Eight of the countries are former French colonies, whereas both Ethiopia (for five years) and Somalia (for around fifty years) experienced Italian colonialism, but on the whole probably both were less thoroughly penetrated by Europe than most parts in Africa. All countries are, via foreign investments in trade and local production, closely tied to the international economy, and, their exports coming from primary sectors, this creates internal contradictions. The ten countries occupy vast territories and are sparsely populated. Five countries have less than five inhabitants per square kilometer. Of the four countries with the highest population density three are also the smallest ones in terms of area (Dahomey/Benin, Senegal and Upper Volta). The communication network as well as the information system is less developed in the other seven countries, where also a dichotomy between center and periphery is apparent.

29.1.3 Outline of the Contents The study is organized according to the three models (Sections 3–5). Each section consists of four similar parts, where one outlines the model in more detail, giving the predictions that the model suggests. Then, conflict behavior is studied first between states, then within states and finally the links between internal and inter-state conflicts are analyzed. The methodology chosen varies between the three sections, as the models seem to require a differentiated approach. This means that
for sections 3 and 4 the analytical units and total numbers are not necessarily the same, and that section 5, almost exclusively relying on a case-by-case approach becomes the most extensive one. Here only section 2 that specifies some of the operationalizations is included (29.2) together with the final section with conclusions of a theoretical and political nature (29.3).

558

29.2

29 Disaster and Conflict: Conflict Formations in the Sahel …

Methodological Considerations

29.2.1 Incompatibility Incompatibilities can exist everywhere and between everybody, as they are a matter of formulating an issue in a language enhancing conflictual aspects. Here, incompatibility refers to actors (or parties), which have goals that make it impossible to distribute a certain set of values at given point in time so that all actors (parties) are satisfied. The nature of the values provides a handy form to describe the incompatibility. Whether it concerns votes, money, prestige, supporters, power or anything else we could define the conflict as political, economic, social, religious or in similar terms. The incompatibility, then, is a theoretical or analytical way to formulate an issue in a given situation of contending parties. Almost all values will have an upper limit in sheer numbers so that a certain scarcity will exist, and incompatibilities emerge. Incompatibilities, in turn seem to increase the energy in a given social relation: they are problems that need to be tackled, and, as time is a pressing factor, problems have to be solved. The solution may, however, be found without much of verbal or physical action. For the involved parties it then appears as a “problem-solving” enterprise, or even as a “decision making” challenge.7 However, in a case where there is more of tension and less of immediate or simple solutions, the incompatibility turns into conflictual and/or cooperative behavior. The incompatibility, in other words, requires the existence not only of scare values, but an evaluation of these values as valuable as well as conscious parties who know how much they value the valuables – and also know that time is scarce. Certainly, we could think of latent incompatibilities, where there are no parties (e.g. the researcher pointing to a given incompatibility and parties later emerging to take up the issue), or where there are parties without issues (e. g. the original issue is solved and the party is searching for a “goal in life”) or where the parties do not see that time is short or values are scarce (e. g. the signs of immanent threat are not observed). Such latent incompatibilities we will not be of concern in this study. It is, however, necessary to observe that parties may emerge or may make misjudgments also in this context. This means that manifest incompatibilities exist where there are clear parties. It is hard to imagine an organization that has no goal. This means that every organization pursues a goal, which in some way or the other makes it incompatible with another organization (otherwise it would not be necessary to create the organization in the first place). An incompatibility, thus, is part of the identity of an organization. This, of course, is also true on the level of individuals where identity is largely shaped in contradictions with other individuals, although cooperation (or learning Such perceptions are described in Derrick, J.1977, “The Great West African Drought, 1972– 1974,” African Affairs, 76 (305): 537–586 and in Bell Pierre, “Le Coup d'etat militaire au Tchad,” Le Monde Diplomatique, Mai 1975. 7

29.2

Methodological Considerations

559

from others) also is part of the process. Thus, in the moment an organization (ranging from the state via the company and trade union to the family unit) is created, a certain incompatibility is formed. Society can tolerate a fair number of such incompatibilities, or even benefit from them as it makes society more fascinating for its members. The creation of an organization, making the same argument in reverse, means also the shaping of identity. Thus, a people could get a stronger identity in the moment when it can form its own state instead of being a member of a state controlled by or shared with others. When we discuss incompatibilities the existence of organizations, thus, is important. The state is one such organization, with its own special features: sovereignty, territorial, physical and economic authority as well as legitimacy. This unique combination of properties makes the state a particular actor. Consequently we are here using the state as a major distinction, dividing incompatibilities into those between states, within states and combinations of the two. However, there is a whole set of other actors that also have to be considered: political parties, military forces, trade unions, peasant and student organizations, guerilla movements, separatists, nomadic peoples, etc. These all stand in different relationships to each other, all having their own identity and consequently furthering their own goals. The incompatibilities, however, need not necessarily and always lead to conflict. As should be obvious simply from this listing, coalitions are possible, and, if it was possible to compare, cooperation may be considerably more common than conflict. However, the incompatibilities being innumerable it cannot in advance be suggested which ones to look for, in particular. Thus, incompatibilities will be traced the other way around. By observing which parties direct conflict behavior against each other it will be determined which incompatibilities that – in general – seem to be more prone to give raise to conflict than others. Thus, rather than making the incompatibility the central conception, conflict behavior takes that role. Conflict behavior, shortly to be defined, will be more important as this is the ultimate, destructive result of existing incompatibilities. Incompatibilities that rarely or never lead to conflict behavior then, can be regarded as more manageable, ceteris paribus, in a given society.

29.2.2 Drought Impact The ten countries selected for study were all seriously exposed to drought in the 1970s. The timing varies somewhat, and the impact even more so. In certain countries, the effects of the drought in terms of reduced rainfall shortages and migration was restricted to some few regions (Benin and Cameroon), whereas for others the impact was felt throughout the country (Niger and Mali). In human terms, the suffering becomes even more varied, as the effects are due to natural conditions but also to economic and administrative capacities, as well as to political considerations.

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In order to improve our understanding of the link between drought and conflict it is necessary to evaluate the impact of drought in the ten countries involved. The variations are substantial and widely acknowledged among observers. Still, a closer evaluation and comparison of the impact not only strikes one as immoral (is not the suffering of one enough?) but it also as highly difficult (is data reliable and comparable?). This means, however, that neither a strict quantitative measure can be applied, nor that it really should. Furthermore, the impact of the drought has, in the aftermath of the disaster, become an important political issue in several of the countries exposed to it. Also, the effect of the entire disaster has constituted a challenge to local governments as well as international organizations and distant populations. Thus, it could be illuminating simply to make a rough overview of the impact in the ten countries most affected. The impact of drought seems in particular to focus the effect of two factors: (1) the natural conditions, that is, shortage of water, food, area affected, density of population and cattle, and (2) the political conditions, notably the governments and whether they reacted early or late (or not at all) and how they reacted (active, passive, cooperative, repressive). Blaming is not the aim of this study, but the implications of each factor should be spelled out. An emphasis on (1) could easily lead to passivity, but also to economic development policies, whereas an emphasis on (2) may lead to a political and moral questioning of the incumbent government and the demand for government reform or change. Bringing the different factors together and relying on the many accounts of the drought, Table 29.1 emerges.

29.2.3 Conflict Behavior Conflict behavior is the most crucial concept in this study. Incompatibilities are expected largely to reveal themselves in conflict behavior, and the economic conditions are expected to influence the frequency and intensity of conflict behavior. Thus, it is necessary to carefully consider the concept of conflict behavior. Conflict behavior presupposes the existence of an incompatibility although, at times, behavior could take place without such an incompatibility. This, however, it is assumed, is a rare instance with less consequence for social relations than more concerted action. Furthermore, conflict behavior presupposes the existence of actors, which are linked to the incompatibilities in the society. Thirdly, conflict behavior is destructive behavior: it refers either to demands for changes away from existing patterns (the partial or complete destruction of existing policies or structures) or to the nature of the action in itself (meaning the destruction of materials or human beings). Here we will concentrate on the action in itself. A certain event is seen as conflict behavior when it is physical or verbal actions that are not the customary way of life, i.e. there is a disruption of normal activity.

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Methodological Considerations

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Table 29.1 Assessing human impact of drought. 10 African countries, 1973, 1975. Source: The author Impact category

Country

Assessment of impact

Very limited impact Very limited impact

Cameroon

Limited impact

Senegal

Limited impact

Upper Volta

Significant impact

Mauretania

Significant impact Severe impact

Somalia (1975) Mali

Severe impact

Niger

Severe impact Very severe impact

Chad

Northern parts hit, government takes early action, demands little aid. No reports of disastrous or severe proportions Northern parts affected, little known about government action. No reports on deaths of people or cattle. No issue in political criticism Large parts affected, dislocations observed, migration of people, government counter-measures taken, efficient organization Large parts affected, dislocations observed, influx of people from other areas, government countermeasures taken, center for aid operations Large areas affected, large-scale movements of people, early appeal for aid, imaginative counter-measures by government, outside help supplementary Large areas hit, migration of people, early appeal, government counter-measures, assistance. Large areas affected, migration to other countries, appeal ineffective government action, significant aid received, mistreatment of nomads reported Large areas affected, migration to towns, inefficient government action, corruption, aid not distributed, mistreatment of nomads reported Large areas affected, negligent government, aid disrupted, inefficiency Specific areas affected, government inactivity, suppression of information, very large number of deaths reported

Benin

Ethiopia (1973)

Fourth, conflict behavior has to be seen in a given relation of incompatibility: it is the behavior of one party directed against another party. This assumes that the behavior arises from some degree of planning. Thus, neither ‘mob’ actions without clear planning nor ‘gangsterism’ will be included as neither is part of a given incompatibility. A ‘hold-up’, for instance, is not necessarily part of an incompatibility between the gangster and his victim. The relationship is often accidental. Only actions where at least one party claims that there is an incompatibility involved are considered. Governments of the ten drought-stricken countries, of neighboring states and of big powers are included as actors. Internal actors are all actors that are identifiable and which have been party to a conflict involving the government. Conflicts between non-governmental actors are not considered. Fifth, “conflict relation” is the organizing concept, i.e. the relationship between the parties. Once conflict behavior has been established between a pair of states, then it is also observed if one other parties experience conflict behavior in relation

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to another party. This, then, is a second conflict relation, etc. This means that the conflicts are analyzed in dyads. This is analytically handy and theoretically important. Sixth, conflict behavior will be measured per year. If there is conflict behavior in year Y this will be recorded as one conflict relation for that year, whereas renewed conflict behavior in year Y+l makes it a second conflict relation, also to be counted. Thus, a conflict lasting for five years, having conflict behavior between the same pair of actors each year will be seen as five conflict relations. This is done in order to be able to make a distinction over time, which is important, as we are interested in conflict patterns before, during and after a special phenomenon. This makes it possible to compare the frequency of conflict relations over time. Seventh, in order to make a more realistic evaluation of the intensity in the conflict relations, the highest level of destruction reached is estimated. This is done on a scale with four levels of intensity. Two different scales are used, one for the internal and another for inter-state conflict behavior. However, the basic reasoning is similar and the different levels are roughly comparable, taking account of the differences in the relations between these two different sets of parties. The details of the scales can be found on request. It is necessary to specify some of the argument behind the construction of the scales. The most significant is that the intensity is related to the use of military force, as military force is the most destructive means in the hands of human beings. Thus, it becomes important to distinguish between conflict behavior that reaches a level where (1) military force is not applied (i.a. non-military forms of conflict behavior, for instance, demonstrations for or against a given government, strikes of different types, constitutional, or legal measures against certain parties, etc. for the internal relations. In inter-state relations similar actions are demonstrations in front of embassies, cancellation of agreements or breaking off of diplomatic relations. The set of non-military forms of conflict behavior is vast. Furthermore conflict behavior could reach levels where (2) military force is used but without bloodshed. This includes explicit threats to use military force or the rounding up opponents, initiation of trials or similar events, which do not involve actual fighting. In interstate relation action such as military demonstrations, troop movements, evacuation of nationals belonging to the other state, or the demonstrative shootings without injuries are included. Conflict behavior could reach a level where (3) military or police force is used in a sporadic fashion. Internally this means the execution of opposition or government representatives, attempt at murders, occupation of certain areas by force, throwing of bombs, attacks on buildings, etc. A military coup would belong to this category, for instance. In inter-state relations actions like attacks on or occupation of territory belonging to the other country or the supporting or financing of attempts at the life of political leaders of the other country are included. Finally, conflict behavior can reach a level where (4) military force is used in a continuous strategy. This means guerilla war restricted not simply to sabotage or killings, but attempting at gaining control over larger territories, as well as interstate war. This level, thus, is radically higher in terms of intensity than any of the others.

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Methodological Considerations

563

It incorporates actions aimed at taking all-out control over a given state or to bring about significant policy change. Here are included outside military interventions to bring about a change of government, sustained border wars or civil wars. The two first levels are the least violent ones, the third one is ambiguous and the fourth one is the most violent one. A conflict relation reaching the third level, in other words could either turn into escalation or be the isolated upsurge of unsettled conflicts. It is, thus, a critical level of intensity in a given conflict relation. Defining conflict behavior means making a number of intricate decisions. Thus, in the theoretical definition verbal actions have been included. In the operative definition, such actions have been excluded from the internal relations, but are included in inter-state relations. This has to do with the nature of these two types of relations. Verbal action, e.g. criticism of the government or of opponents, is part of policy behavior in internal relations. It cannot be seen as a disruption of normal activity. However, in inter-state relations, one state criticizing another is not normal. Thus, such verbal actions have been included with one exception, namely criticism directed against certain governments for not distributing aid in an equitable way to exposed groups. Rarely have such criticism from the groups (notably nomads) themselves been reported, but instead it stems from officials of different international (non-) governmental organizations. This relates not to an incompatibility between the NGO or IGO and the government in question but to the relationship between the group and the government. The fact that an international employee makes such criticism could be seen to be on pair with inter-state conflict behavior, but it is nevertheless related to an internal incompatibility. Thus, such criticism has been included as conflict behavior in internal relations. Equipped with these definitions leading international archives have bee searched for descriptions of conflict behavior. The most important sources have been Keesing's Contemporary Archives, Africa Research Bulletin, and Africa Contemporary Records. Also, the information has been supplemented with news reports in Le Monde, Le Monde Diplomatique, International Herald Tribune and different news agency reports as well as scholarly work on the ten countries concerned. The ambition has been to cover all events fulfilling the above criteria. However, the nature of political events as well as the deficiencies in news reporting may result in unintended biases. First of all, inter-state events probably receive a greater coverage than internal events. As they include two states, at least two different actors will be interested in telling their story, and, as neither has the power to suppress the other (at least according to legal norms) information should be more open. These events also have a higher news-value as they will interest not only the two states concerned but also other states and actors. However, this is not true for all types of events, as, for instance, aid to opponents in another country is against the norm of sovereignty and would not readily be admitted. Intelligence operations, in other word, remain uncovered in most news reporting. Secondly, there are deficiencies in news media, which lead to underreporting in particular of internal events. News reporting relies heavily on official information (often giving account only of one side, for instance, in an internal conflict), on

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dramatic action (thus being more prone to report violent action rather than non-violent events; and public, mass action rather than specific, clandestine police action), and on the work of one reporter only (whose conclusions may be questioned by others, if others “were there”, and whose capacity to absorb information is not unlimited). Thus, it is possible that, for instance, nightly arrest never are published by the governments at times when there is no independent journalism in place. This might, for instance, be true for news reporting in a country like Cameroon, which will appear more ‘stable’ than actually is the case. A remedy in such a situation is the reports of independent sources, such as Amnesty International. This data problem clearly illuminates the need for a free press, for more transparency and for less government control over the mass media as a necessary ingredient in a new international, human information order. The empirical sections that followed are not included here.

29.3

Conclusions

29.3.1 Drought and Conflict: Policy Implications There is a link between a severe food shortage and the emergence of conflict behavior, this study finds, but the relationship is not simple or straightforward. It has been studied, with the use of some statistical analysis and a comparative discussion of ten drought stricken countries in Africa during the earlier part of the 1970s. It turns out that government negligence of drought results in changing patterns of internal conflicts and, under certain circumstances, also leads to the involvement in inter-state conflicts. The most telling example is the experience of Ethiopia. The following propositions have been substantiated in this study: 1. When early government action is taken, and drought effects are kept within manageable proportions, the internal conflict patterns have remained the same, or, in ethnically more homogeneous states, actually been reduced. In countries with negligent regimes, however, conflict patterns and internal power relations have been drastically altered. 2. When negligent governments have attempted to divert attention by directing conflict behavior against easily identifiable enemies (colonial powers and symbols) this has neither prolonged the life of the government nor eased the effects of the drought . 3. In drought-stricken countries there is a general shift in conflict patterns: during drought, internal as well as external conflicts concern economic and social issues. Such issues, unless linked to territorial questions, tend to have a lower likelihood of escalating to military conflict behavior. 4. In later phases or after the drought, conflict relating to power-relations between and within states tend to be more frequent and reach higher levels of intensity:

29.3

5.

6. 7.

8.

9.

10.

Conclusions

565

charges of interference in internal affairs become more frequent as do conflicts between government and opposition. The nomadic population tends to be particularly affected by drought, resulting in conflict with non-nomadic controlled governments and populations. An increased participation of nomadic groups in armed struggle can be seen in the aftermath of drought. Mismanaged drought tends to lead to a shift in relations between civilian and military power centers, enhancing the influence of the latter. Mismanaged drought tends to present an opportunity for regionalism, separatism, border revisionism and outside interference, particularly in heterogeneous countries. Homogeneous countries, relatively strengthened by drought, and with some legitimation, sometimes tend to exploit the weaknesses of neighboring countries to change power relations. Once drought-stricken countries have become involved in large scale military fighting, they risk to be drawn into a web of international power transactions, where they easily become victims rather than actors. With the exception of large-scale wars, African internal conflicts tend, in general, to reach higher levels of intensity than inter-state conflicts. It seems likely that, in the ten countries, more people have died from government repression, guerilla wars, separatist struggles and revolutions than from interstate combat, with the exception of the Ethiopia-Somalia War.

29.3.2 Disaster and Conflict: Implications for Conflict Theory In this study, an attempt has been made to compare the explanatory value of three different, frequently cited models linking disaster and conflict behavior. Each model demands its particular method, and the ten African drought situations have been treated with statistical as well as comparative case study approaches. The same information has been processed in three different ways, in order to make a judgment on the models. The frustration model, predicting expressive behavior, in particular directed against non-dangerous, easily identifiable targets, has some applicability, but remains the one least able to capture the developments. The interaction model, which expects economic issues to escalate into military ones, certainly helps illuminate economic conflicts, but the escalatory processes fail to show up. Finally, the opportunism model, stressing changing power relations between actors, grasps developments on higher, more intensive levels of conflict. Thus, we find each model to have some applicability to certain types of conflict behavior, but none being able to explain the entire spectrum of conflict behavior.

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29 Disaster and Conflict: Conflict Formations in the Sahel …

Furthermore, none of the models can illuminate the development of conflict behavior unless they consider other, previously existing or parallel incompatibilities. Opportunistic exploitation operates together with such patterns, but not alone. Strength and weakness is only related to conflict behavior when there is a conflict pattern in which relative strength plays a role. This was found to be true for inter-state conflicts, where bilateral, regional or global conflict patterns could magnify local cleavages. This applies also to internal conflicts, where, in particular, ethnic and regional heterogeneity might involve states in more conflicts. In particular, relations between heterogeneous states neighboring on homogeneous ones, having grievances relating to nomadic populations and territorial control, are, tentatively suggested to be most conflictual. The disaster appeared in such situations to change the relative power relationship between the states. The incompatibilities that were found to lead to more intensive levels of conflict behavior were thus related to the state and its sovereignty more than to other issues. The maintenance of the state, state borders and integrity, all highly symbolic issues, were found to the more important than, for instance, economic issues.8 As a matter of fact, the interaction model could help explain the development of certain economic and social issues between states. However, only when such issues were linked to territorial ones did they threaten to lead to more intensive military conflict behavior. Normally such conflicts tended to be settled without military involvement. This was also found to be true for internal conflict, although they in general reached higher intensity levels than interstate conflicts. Thus, social incompatibilities between urban and rural populations, between peasants and commercial enterprises, between workers and government, etc. seldom led to revolutionary types of situations. Rather, in internal relationships, the interventions of military forces, opposition parties and regional-based groups seemed more frequent in challenging established regimes than popular mass movements, student groupings or trade unions. Whether this is generally true could be debated, but it appears to reflect a prevalent pattern, at least for Africa. Food shortages could, in societies with stronger organizations available to non-governmental forces lead to more direct challenges between peripheral groups and negligent regimes. The development in Poland during 1980 and 1981 is but one example. This in other words, does suggest that the correlation between disaster and conflict behavior could be different in societies of different complexity. The disaster scrutinized in this work has been food shortage created by drought. This is a phenomenon in particular hitting peoples in arid areas. Given lack of information, transportation and organization, such groups may be severely exposed. If, as appears true in several of the states studied, a long-standing incompatibility 8

This actually parallels the results in my study of major power relations from 1816 to 1976: economic rivalries may result in tensions, but were seldom related to wars. Symbolic or ideological issues had considerably closer connections to confrontations and wars. See Wallensteen, Peter 1981. “Incompatibility, Confrontation and War: Four Models and Three Historical Systems, 1816-1976,” Journal of Peace Research 18 (1): 57-90, specifically p 84.

29.3

Conclusions

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cuts across the societies separating nomadic populations from the others, food shortages may become even more severe, if they primarily hits the nomads. Food shortages under other conditions might have other effects on conflict patterns. Reduction of food for urban populations, particularly those in capitals, might have a more direct political effect than the situations we have studied here. In such situations negligent regimes may face not only riots but also active sabotage of food transports, challenges against food exports and deliveries have harder problems in sustaining themselves. Thus, it is remarkable to find that, also the food shortages in the cases studied here, in a slightly longer time perspective, have brought a political cost to some regimes. Such costs are, however, likely to be higher, the more central the exposed group is in the society. Thus, whether a given group starves and another does not depends on the political resources available or possible to mobilize. Many nomad populations in African countries lack such resources and, it has been found, act conflictually only when there is a possibility of outside support. They might, however, not be the only grouping in African societies in that situation. Whether to starve or not becomes a matter of whether to be represented or not in central decision-making. Representation can be brought about in many different ways, but without it, it seems that disasters will continue to generate conflict behavior, and indeed, without it, policies are likely to continue to generate disasters.

Chapter 30

International Freshwater Resources: Conflict or Cooperation? Peter Wallensteen and Ashok Swain

Abstract The scarcity of freshwater is often seen as a potential source of conflict. It is discussed in this study comparing five internationally shared major rivers. The authors find that river-basin regimes have an important function in mediating such conflicts and may in fact lead to cooperation between the riparian states. This study from 1997 is one of the first to demonstrate this.

30.1

Water: Its Importance and Availability

The crucial importance of water to the survival of the human race can be observed in the old civilizations whose growth and sustenance were closely related to its water distribution systems.1 Many authors have located the importance of water in different religious observances. In Hindu and Buddhist traditions, the rivers of the earth, including the Indus, the Ganges, and the Brahmaputra, originate from the mythical Mount Meru, home of the gods. In Christian tradition, water originates from the Garden of Eden, and then divides the world with the great streams: the Nile, the Tigris, the Euphrates, the Indus, and the Ganges.2 Islam also gives water its due importance. The holy book Koran describes that every living thing is made from water.3 The Planet Earth is unique in the solar systems in having water in

1

Thanks are due to Asit K. Biswas, Gunilla Björklund, Wulf Klohn and A. D. Mohile fo their comments and thoughts. Of course, any faults or errors are our own. Funding for this work was provided by the Swedish International Development Cooperation agency (Sida) and Stockholm Environment Institute (SEI). This is an abbreviated and slightly edited version of the original text. Used with permission. 2 Peter H. Gleick, ”An Introduction to Global Fresh Water Issues” in his ed., Water in Crisis: A Guide to the World's Fresh Water Resources, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), p. 3. 3 Malin Falkenmark, ”Living at the Mercy of the Water Cycle” in Water Resources in the Next Century (Stockholm: Proceedings of the Stockholm Water Symposium, Publication No. 1, 12-15 August 1991), p. 13. © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_30

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liquid form which can support life. The other planets are either too hot or too cold to maintain a water cycle.4 However, water is also at the same time, one of the most erratic objects on earth. The total volume of existing water on the planet is 1.41 billion cubic kilometers. Nearly 98 percent of this water unusable since it is found in the saltwater of the oceans, inland seas, and deep underground basins.5 The total volume of available fresh water stocks on a long term basis is only 35 million cubic kilometers. Most of this fresh water is stored in ice caps, glaciers and in permanent snow covers in Antarctic and Arctic regions. As Igor A. Shiklomanov estimates, ”Fresh water lakes and rivers, which are the main sources for human water consumption, contain on average about 90,000 cubic kilometers of water, or just 0.26 per cent of total global fresh water reserves.”6 The surface runoff is the most important source of the fresh water. The total global runoff average in annual basis is 44,500 km3. This runoff is highly arbitrary in nature among different regions of the world. Most part of the total global runoff is concentrated in the temperate zone and equatorial regions, which cater to a relatively small population. In the case of Europe, the per capita run-off is half of the global per capita average. But, the larger part of the continent is endowed with temperate climate and many small rivers with steady flows, which makes it possible to tap a high proportion of the run-off. This is not the case in many other regions. In the tropical and arid areas where most of the world population lives, the limited flowing water resources is very unevenly distributed. Almost all the developing countries are in the arid and semi-arid, tropical and subtropical regions and many of them are facing severe water shortages. The volume of the rivers, which is the major source of the fresh water, is also unequally distributed among the countries within these regions.7 The runoff from the Amazon River alone amounts to 80 percent of South America's average runoff. Similarly, 30 percent of the total runoff in Africa originates from a single river basin, the Congo/Zaire. Another major share among the African rivers is made up by the Nile system. In Asia, the Ganges-Brahmaputra and Mekong basins are the carriers of a significantly high proportion of the continent's runoff. River runoff in the temperate belt is not as disproportionate as in the tropical and arid regions. The runoff in the countries of tropical regions also suffers from high seasonal fluctuations. Many regions get nearly all of their yearly precipitation during a brief, intense rainy season.

4

National Research Council, Opportunities in the Hydrological Sciences (Washington DC.: National Academy Press, 1991). 5 World Resource Institute, World Resources 1990-91 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), p. 166. 6 Igor A. Shiklomanov , ”World Fresh Water Resources” in Peter H. Gleick, ed., Water in Crisis: A Guide to the World's Fresh Water Resources, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), p. 13. 7 See The World Water Balance and the Water Resources of the Earth (Leningrad: Gidromoteoizdat, 1974).

30.1

Water: Its Importance and Availability

571

In this paper we scrutinize the water situation on a global level. We are interested in water as a potentially contested resource. Our analysis focuses on two aspects: the quantity and quality of water, in particular in rivers (Sect. 30.2). Furthermore, a closer analysis is made of the river as a main carrier of fresh water. The control over water, in terms of quantity and quality, is an issue that may give rise to conflict as well as cooperation. The experience in handling disputes is illuminated with respect to five internationally shared rivers (30.2). Finally, the search for an international solution is analyzed, in particular in sharing river water resources (30.3). Some practical implications are outlined (30.4). Note: In this excerpt only the sections dealing with disputes are included. The full text is available on request.

30.2

Water Resources and International Conflicts

The connection between fresh water resources and international conflicts can be investigated at least in two different dimensions. First, in an inter-state conflict, the deliberate targeting of water storage facilities may be directly responsible for inducing water scarcity or reducing the water quality of the other side. Thus, water scarcity becomes part of a military strategy and military behavior. Dams were destroyed during World War II and in the Korean War. Irrigation systems in North Vietnam were bombed by USA in the Vietnam War. Iran claimed to have hit an hydroelectric station in Iraq in July 1981, as part of the Iran-Iraq War. Dams, water storage and conveyance systems were targeted by the warring sides during the 1991 Gulf War. Armies in Yemen (in the 1994 war) and former Yugoslavia (1991– 1995) used the water storage facilities as targets to create problems for their adversaries. The mass migration to Zaire following the internal war in Rwanda in 1994 led to shortage of fresh drinking water supply to the receiving areas. These are cases, where in fact a human population is held hostage to political and military leaders. Manipulation with such basic human supplies in times of war should be an urgent issue for international humanitarian law, and it certainly would be unacceptable under conditions of peace. However, our aim here is to concentrate on a second dimension of the relationship: the likelihood of changes in fresh water resource supply to cause or contribute to the emergence and/or escalation of conflicts among states or human groups. As we have just shown there has been a general decline in the quantity and quality of global fresh water resources. This leads us to consider scarcity of resources as a cause of conflict, in conflict theory language: an incompatibility between already existing parties. A common starting point in the analysis of many inter-state conflicts has been sought in the desire of the leaders of states to acquire territory and natural resources. Geopolitical and realist thinking has assumed that there are such interests which direct the course of political action. Recently,

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Vasquez has returned to the importance of territory in the understanding of how states act towards each other.8 In the post-Second World War period, it has become unfashionable and immoral to conquer territories of others. Nevertheless this has happened repeatedly, for instance, in the Middle East (e.g. the Arab-Israel and Iran-Iraq conflicts), in South and Southeast Asia (e.g. partition of India, Indonesia's actions toward neighbors) and lately in Europe (e.g. in former Yugoslavia). This is, however, not easily attributed to resource competition. Only under special circumstances is it likely that scarcity of resources give rise to serious armed conflict, for instance when a stronger party is dependent on a particular resource, has no alternative resources available and has the military capacity to act in the region in question.9 In the case of water resources, this means that competition is more likely to occur regionally. Water is not transported across large distances as is the case with oil or minerals, for instance. With increasing scarcity, however, this might be a possible scenario for the future. In the post-World War II period, political actions are taking place more in order to satisfy the demands of the majorities of a country. This means that stronger nations might be more in need of natural resources on the territory of other states, to meet the growing needs and desires of the home population. In this way, ‘development’ might be seen to require the acquisition or exploitation of a larger share of jointly owned fresh water resource. Thus, the interests of other user states become affected. This then, might result in a spiral of events: Subsequent actions by the affected states to protect their interests might escalate conflicts.

30.2.1 International Rivers The water on the surface of the Earth is naturally organized within river basins, thus these river basins are the fundamental units of the fresh water world.10 Moreover, the river runoff is the most important source of available fresh water for human consumption. Forty percent of the world's population is directly dependent upon the fresh water from rivers and about two thirds of these people live in developing countries. The international rivers flow from one country to another. The use or misuse of water in the up-stream countries affects its quantity and quality in the down-stream countries. Down-stream nations can affect the flow of water by building large-scale dams, with effects spilling over the borders. In a situation of increasing water John A. Vasquez, ”Why do Neighbors Fight? Proximity, Interaction, or Territoriality”, Journal of Peace Research, vol. 32, no. 3, August 1995, pp. 277-293. 9 Mats Hammarström, Securing Resources by Force: The Need for Raw Materials and Military Intervention by Major Powers in Less Developed Countries (Uppsala: Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Report No. 27, 1986). 10 Gordon J. Young and others, Global Water Resource Issues (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), pp. 17-21. 8

30.2

Water Resources and International Conflicts

573

Table 30.1 Countries heavily dependent on imported surface water. Sources: Quoted from, Peter H. Gleick, ”Water and Conflict: Fresh Water Resources and International Security”, International Security, vol. 18, no. 1, Summer 1993, pp. 79–112. The original source of these data is World Resource Institute, World Resources, 1991–92 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991) Country

Percent of total Flow originating outside of border

Country

Egypt 97 Iraq Hungary 95 Albania Mauritania 95 Uruguay Botswana 94 Germany Bulgaria 91 Portugal Netherlands 89 Bangladesh Gambia 86 Thailand Kampuchea 82 Austria Romania 82 Pakistan Luxembourg 80 Jordan Syria 79 Venezuela Congo 77 Senegal Sudan 77 Belgium Paraguay 70 Israela Niger 68 a A significant proportion of the Israel's water supply comes from disputed

Percent of total Flow originating Outside of border 66 53 52 51 48 42 39 38 36 36 35 34 33 21 land

demand, international rivers may become a ground for breeding disputes among the riparian states. The dependence on external water might be a crucial factor. Table 30.1 shows the situation by the early 1990s, but many of the situations portrayed have a longer history. Table 30.1 lists the countries most externally dependent, in terms of water resources. It is interesting to note that none of the major nuclear powers are in this category. The only water-dependent country being a major power in the industrial era is Germany. However, few historians have observed a possible water-control pattern in German expansion against neighbors during the first part of this century. Certainly Wilhelminian or Hitlerite Germany showed a great interest in controlling neighboring countries, most of them also being important sources of German water supply. The reasons given were different, however, such as the ”protection” of a local German population, immediate military considerations, and useful resources for industrial production. Furthermore, for a much longer part of its industrial era, Germany has been acting fairly peacefully against its neighbors. Few of the countries in the list have displayed any particular pattern of conflict behavior against neighboring water suppliers. Only when we add the variable of military strength does such a pattern emerge. Egypt has repeatedly interfered in the affairs of Sudan, and showed

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interest in Ethiopia. The water dependence might be a part of that, but also Egyptian desire to play a role in Arab and African politics. Some other countries are also relatively powerful, and thus, water becomes part of the analysis: Syria vs. Turkey (support to the PKK), Iraq vs. Turkey and the Kurdish population in Iraq, Thailand's influence in Laos, Israel vs. Arab neighbors. However, the reverse seems more common: the water dependent country has also been dependent on the upstream country in other respects, particularly when this has been a stronger country. That actual dominance or fear of dominance has been a significant political factor can be seen in many cases listed in Table 30.1: Hungary for a long time was dominated by Austria; Botswana by South Africa; Gambia by Senegal; Paraguay by Brazil; Albania feared dominance by Yugoslavia; Portugal by Spain; Bangladesh by India, etc. Still these countries have remained independent entities, suggesting that the struggle for survival and distinctness has been part and parcel of a policy to control the water resources on the territory of the state. From these examples we can observe that the water-conflict nexus is a complex one, but where distinctness and political resources play an important role. The Centre for Natural resources, Energy and Transport (CNRET), now a defunct UN unit, brought out a Register of International Rivers in 1978. In that, it listed 214 internationally shared rivers and lakes: 148 flowing through two countries, 31 through three countries and the remaining flowing through four or more countries. According to this study, 47 percent of the land area of the world (excluding Antarctica) is within these international river and lake basins. On the continents of Asia, Africa and South America, the shared basins make up at least 60 percent of the land area.11 The CNRET study has become dated because of significant changes in international geopolitical borders and names of countries and rivers in the last 18years. Moreover, some do not accept the CNRET report as a definitive study on the grounds of its methodological and factual shortcomings.12 It was entirely a desk study, which drew its figures from then available maps in the UN Map Library. It is nearly impossible to locate all the international surface water systems from the small maps alone. The definition adopted by the CNRET only considers first order river basins and does not include the tributary or other outlet basins. This means that, for the time being, there is no authoritative study that has data on rivers basins throughout the world. Such a study would be important to initiate, not the least as an international project.

Asit K. Biswas, “Management of International Water Resources: Some Recent Developments” in his, ed„ International Waters of the Middle East: From Euphrates-Tigris to Nile (Bombay: Oxford University Press, 1994), p. 189. 12 Asit K. Biswas, “Management of International Waters: Problems and Perspective”, Water Resource Development, vol. 9, no. 2, 1993, pp. 167-188; and Asit K. Biswas, No. 38, pp. 185-214 11

30.2

Water Resources and International Conflicts

575

30.2.2 International River Disputes The root of the English word 'rival' is from the Latin term rivalis, which originally meant using the same stream (rivus). 13 When two or more countries share the same river systems, the upstream withdrawal, pollution or management may lead to the ‘upstream-downstream’ conflicts. The growing strain on the quantity and quality of the fresh water and its unequal distribution among the users, pave the way for greater number of disagreements in the near future. Many conflicts are going on among the users of the international river basins in the different parts of the world, where the control of the river water is a part of the dispute. Some of these conflict inducing international rivers are: the Jordan, Nile, Euphrates-Tigris, Danube and Ganges. With the exception of the Jordan basin, most such water conflicts have confined themselves to being non-armed, though the threats of use of arms in these cases are not so uncommon. As early as the mid-1980s, US intelligence services estimated that there were at least ten places in the world where war could break out over the shortage of the supply of fresh water—the majority in the Middle East.14 The study did not specify a time-frame, and as of yet serious conflicts have not arisen. It raises the question of whether war or accommodation is the more likely outcome. Indeed, actions by the international community might have an impact on this. There are conflicts on a lower level regularly reported from different parts of the world over the international rivers. In some cases, there are agreements regulating the water distribution among the riparian states. However, many of these cooperative arrangements have begun to crumble.15 Scarcity, pollution and management of water resource, has not only generated conflicts among the riparian countries, but also in some cases, it has been instrumental in developing cooperation among them. Water in general and rivers in particular have also been seen as the source for state building in the past. Dynamic cultures have grown across river resources: Indus, Nile, and Euphrates. Thus water also brings people together. Better use of water as well as the need to control water, is an important input in joint human construction. Presently, there has been a number of individual cases where there are cooperative arrangements for the better use of the available water resource. Thus, the shared water resource itself might not be the full explanation of inducing conflicts among the states, its various properties might have different contributions. So, it is necessary to analyze under what circumstances water-related issue conflict might take place among the riparians of an international river basin. With the help of five case studies, this chapter aims at answering this question.

13

Asit K. Biswas, No. 39, pp. 180-181. Joyce R. Starr, “Water Wars”, Foreign Policy, no. 82,1991, p. 17. 15 Ashok Swain, “Water Scarcity: A Threat to Global Security”, Environment & Security, vol. 1, no. 1, 1996, pp. 156-172. 14

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30.2.3 Case Analyses The criteria adopted here for choosing cases for analysis are (a) rivers that are of economic significance for riparian states, and (b) the selected rivers reflect major global differences in economic and social life and in the per capita availability of fresh water resources. These are the reasons for choosing cases from different continents. Then it is important (c) that the rivers are shared between at least two countries. Also, the cases should (d) reflect variations on conflict dimensions, some being known to be fairly peaceful and others involving conflict among the parties. This makes possible a discussion whether river properties do influence conflict and cooperation among the riparians. These criteria result in the selection of five major river systems in five continents, which are chosen for closer scrutiny. These river systems are: The Rhine in Europe, Colorado in North and Central America, Paraná in South America, Nile in Africa, and Ganges in Asia. All these river systems are either bilaterally or multilaterally shared. All of them are economically significant for their basins concerned. We approach the issue by studying how the countries have handled disputes that have arisen around the use of the river water. 30.2.3.1

The Colorado River

The Colorado river water is shared between the two riparian states, the United States and Mexico. Both the riparians had signed a treaty in 1944, in which Mexico was guaranteed to receive 1.5 million acre-feet of water annually from upstream USA. Increasing salinity emerged in the Colorado water in the early1960s due to the drainage into the river from the Arizona's Wellton-Mohawk Irrigation Project. The quality of water delivered to Mexico fell dramatically.16 This led to excessive crop losses in Mexicali Valley, the region which grows seven percent of the total irrigated crops in Mexico. 17 In the 1960s, Mexico protested to USA about the quality of the water. The Treaty of 1944 had no specifications on the quality aspect of the allotted water, but Mexico’s argument was that the deterioration of water quality on the Mexican side was in violation of the spirit of the Treaty. The US position was that its own legal standing was strong but, rather than fight it out legally, the US began as early as 1961 to look for a solution to the issue.

16

An acre-foot is the amount of water it would take to cover an acre to a depth of one foot. On the Colorado River see: Allen V. Kneese, “Environmental Stress and Political Conflicts: Salinity in the Colorado River”, Paper Presented at the International Conference on Environmental Stress and Security, Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences, Stockholm, Sweden, 13-15 December 1988. 17 I. L. Murphy and J. E. Sabadell, “Impact of Water Resources Public Policies on International River Basin Conflicts”, in V. de Rosinsky and M. De Somer, eds., Water Resources for Rural Areas and Their Communities (Ghent: Crystal Drop Publications, 1985), pp. 883-892.

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Water Resources and International Conflicts

577

This ”soft attitude” of the US Administration brought it into disagreement with local politicians of South-Western USA. There was a fear that any water concession to Mexico might decrease their own states' allocation. Following intense negotiation within the country and also with Mexico, President Nixon appointed Herbert Brownell, Jr. as his special representative in August 1972 to find a “permanent solution” to the salinity problem of the Colorado river water delivery. This led to the signing of Minute 242 of the International Water and Boundary Commission, in which USA pledged to deliver water to Mexico that would be no more salinated than 300 ppm measured at the site of Imperial Dam. To achieve this objective, USA started building at its own cost a desalinization plant at Yuma, Arizona and a canal to divert some saline water from the Wellton-Mohawk irrigation district to the Gulf of California. Due to all these measures, the salinity level of the Colorado River in Mexico has now fallen ten times underneath its 1960s level.18 As Kneese argues, the cheapest way for USA to deal with the Colorado River salinity problem with Mexico would have been to reduce the irrigated areas in the Wellton-Mohawk project. The demands from the farmers in the south-west basin states not to give a single drop of water more than was already allotted in the 1944 Treaty closed this option for the US negotiator.19 After the agreement in 1972, Herbert Brownell, Jr. told: “This is a project that is based on dollars and not on water. There are no limitations in the agreement which would adversely affect any of the planned programmes for the development of natural resources of the basin states (inside the US).”20 Why did USA agree to pay the entire cost of mitigating the salinity problem in Colorado, though technically it could have totally ignored the Mexican protest? The reasons given by writers are interesting from the perspective of conflict management and conflict resolution. First, USA chose to maintain good relations with Mexico for the resolution of other bilateral problems - including illegal immigration, drug trafficking, and trade. Second, USA did not use an unlimited territorial sovereignty concept as it feared that the same concept might be applied by Canada against USA in other similar cases.21 Third, US ‘softness’ might have had something to do with the growing awareness that Mexico was the repository of a great deal of oil. 22 Whatever the reason, in this case, the United States' policy was based

Katrina S. Rogers, “Rivers of Discontent-Rivers of Peace: Environmental Cooperation and Integration Theory”, International Studies Notes, vol. 20, no. 2, Spring 1995, p. 15. See also Rabin Clarke, No. 19, p 100: (see footnote 39). 19 Allen V. Kneese, No. 44. 20 Department of State Bulletin, vol. 69, 24 September 1973, p. 391. 21 These two arguments are given in, Scott Barrett, Conflict and Cooperation in Managing International Water Resources (Centre for Social and Economic Research on the Global Environment—CSERGE— working Paper WM 94-04), pp.17-18. 22 Marc Reisner, Cadillac Desert (New York: Viking, 1986), p. 483. 18

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on using the international river water resource in an equitable way. By accepting the “polluter-pays” scheme, it avoided a major conflict with the downstream neighbor Mexico and instead, the gesture led to strengthening the bilateral cooperation. 30.2.3.2

The Rhine River

The Rhine basin contains nine countries, but the main stream of the river passes through four: Switzerland, France, Germany and the Netherlands. The river is the major supplier of fresh water to one of the most industrially developed regions on earth and its water is also used for drinking purposes in the basin-dependent areas.23 The navigation of this river is governed by one of the oldest agreement in Europe, and from 1918, the river is open for the navigation to all countries, not just the riparians. However, the pollution of the river water became a matter of contention among the riparians in the 1970s. Besides other forms of pollution, the Rhine River is affected badly due to the emission of waste salt from potassium mines in the Alsace region of France. One mine, in French known as Les Mines de Potasse d'Alsace, was contributing 40 percent of all salt entering to Rhine. This salt pollution was making the river water unusable for the agricultural purposes and it posed serious threat to fish population of the river. In the early 1970s, salt content exceeded 300 mg in a liter of Rhine water while it was flowing in Dutch-German border areas. In 1950, the Switzerland, France, Germany, Netherlands and Luxembourg formed the International Commission for the Protection of Rhine Against Pollution.24 This commission coordinates the collection of water quality data and gives recommendation. For the implementation of commission's advice unanimous agreement is needed among the member-countries. Due to this limitation, the Commission has not been able to handle the discontent of the Netherlands and Germany over the salt emission issue. Instead, this problem was taken up by the political authorities of the basin-states. As French mines were the major polluters, the negotiation aimed at reducing the salt emission from them.25 A Conference of the Ministers on the Pollution of the Rhine agreed to limit the concentration of chloride ions to 200 mg per liter at the moment when the Rhine reaches the Netherlands. To achieve this objective, it was decided to reduce the emission by 60 kg/s from French mines from 1975. The estimated cost of the underground storage, about 100 million French Francs, was divided among the four states: France (30%), Germany (30%), the Netherlands

Jan M. Van Dunne, ”The Case of the River Rhine: The Rotterdam Contribution”, in Patricia Thomas, ed., Water Pollution: Law and Liability (London: Graham & Trotman and the IBA, 1993), pp. 75-87. 24 The 1963 Berne Convention made the tenure of the Commission permanent, and, in 1979, the European Economic Community became signatory to the agreement. 25 David G. Le Marquand, ”Rhine River Pollution” in International Rivers: The Politics of Cooperation (Vancouver, BC: Westwater Research Centre, 1977), p. 104. 23

30.2

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579

(34%), and Switzerland (6%). Before the agreement came into force, France objected to the cost-sharing and this led to a temporary deadlock. Finally, the agreement, known as Convention on the Protection of the Rhine Against Pollution by Chlorides, was concluded in 1976. It stipulated the set objective to be achieved gradually but the cost sharing remained as previously agreed. The agreement did not become operative until 1985 due to delays from the French side. There was considerable opposition in France against the plan for the underground storage of the emissions. It was feared that it would affect the aquifers from which local water supply is drawn.26 The implementation of the agreement resulted in significant improvements in the entire riparian ecosystem, and contributed to the high level of cooperation among the major basin states. Domestic political stability, sound economic conditions, and cooperation in many other matters have played a role in creating such fruitful river cooperation.27 The cost-sharing arrangement is interesting. Unlike the Colorado River case, the major victim of the salt pollution in the Rhine, the Netherlands, pays the largest share towards the pollution control measures. The country agreed to this, as it is the major beneficiary of the agreement, though it does not contribute to the pollution. The major polluter, France also pays a substantial amount of the expenditure. Germany agreed to pay the same amount as France. It is not as affected by the pollution as much as is the Netherlands, so its benefits are less. It is not a major contributor to the pollution either. Most interestingly, the country farthest upstream Switzerland which has no role in the salt pollution of the river or nothing to gain from the agreement has been a party to the cost sharing arrangement. This gesture of solidarity of Switzerland might be explained by a wish to project an international image or it may expect to gain on other subsequent issues.28 30.2.3.3

The Paraná River

The Rio de la Plata basin covers 3.2 million square kilometers and drains all of Paraguay, most of Uruguay, northern part of Argentina, south side of Brazil and eastern Bolivia in South America. The Paraná river is one of the major streams of this basin. It flows from Brazil to Argentina, crossing the heart of Paraguay and after its confluence with River Uruguay, reaches Rio de la Plata. From 1853, there

26

Scott Barrett, No. 50, pp. 17-18, W. Birnie and A. E. Boyle, International Law and the Environment (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992), p. 244 and Malin Falkenmark, “Fresh Waters as a Factor in Strategic Policy and Action”, in Arthur H. Westing, ed., Global resources and International Conflict: Environmental Factors in Strategic Policy and Action (Oxford: Oxford University Press with SIPRI andUNEP, 1986), p. 95. 27 Katrina S. Rogers, No. 46, p. 14. 28 Allen V. Kneese, No. 44, David G. Le Marquand, No. 54, p. 119.

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International Freshwater Resources: Conflict or Cooperation?

have been various agreements which have led to the free navigation in the Plata and also in the River Paraná.29 In the 1970s, a major disagreement surfaced among Brazil, Paraguay and Argentina over the construction of a dam on the Paraná River. Brazil and Paraguay decided in the early 1970s to construct one of the largest dams of the world across the Paraná River at Itaipu, where the river forms the border between the two countries. This dam project was funded by Brazil who put up almost 90 percent of the capital required, while Paraguay was to receive 50 percent of the produced hydropower. It was the largest planned hydro-electric facility in the world with an estimated 12.6 million kilowatt capacity and the project was scheduled to begin its operation from 1983.30 This project was conceived by the Brazilian authorities for their need to supplement the electric power availability of the industrial center-south. However, the project led Argentinean authorities to become concerned, because of possible environmental repercussions in the downstream areas. Moreover, Argentina was planning its own dam further down-stream of the river. The Brazilian-Paraguay project would give regulatory control in the hands of Brazil also for the Argentinean project, something which was not easy for Argentina to accept. Due to these reasons, Argentina demanded prior consultation in the project planning and construction, by referring to international norms. This demand Brazil refused to accept. Argentina brought this issue before the 1972 Stockholm Conference on the Human Environment and the issue was referred to the UN General Assembly. Before it was taken up in the UN, the foreign ministers of Brazil and Argentina agreed on December 1972 to find a solution to the problem bilaterally with the exchange of information. The text of the agreement was later adopted as UN General Assembly Resolution 2995 (XXVII) of 15 December 1972. Argentina still was not satisfied and it brought the issue to the G77 meetings of 1973 and 1974. It also took it up when it hosted the UN Global Water Conference at Mar del Plata in 1977. After intensive negotiations, an agreement between Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay was reached on 19 October 1979 on Paraná River projects. This agreement made it possible for Argentina to construct the Yacyreta dam on the downstream of the Paraná River.31 The agreement of 1979 stipulated the maximum normal level of the water of Argentina's dam and also minimum flow variations of the Brazilian project. According to this agreement, it was decided that the prior notification and the technical information regarding the filling of the reservoirs would be available to the parties. It further asked the authorities of the two projects to “establish adequate 29

Gordon Ireland, Boundaries, Possessions, and Conflicts in South America (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1938), pp. 34–39. 30 Hans J. Hoyer, ”Paraguay” in Harold E. Davis, Larman C. Wilson and others, Latin American Foreign Policies: An Analysis (Baltimore: The John Hopkins University Press, 1975), p. 300 and Wayne A. Selcher, Brazil’s Multilateral Relations: Between First and Third Worlds (Boulder, Col.: Westview Press, 1978), p. 82. 31 Wayne A. Selcher, No. 63, p. 82-83 and Peter H. Gleick, “Water and Conflict: Fresh Water Resources and International Security”, International Security, vol. 18, no. 1, Summer 1993, p. 92.

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procedures of operational coordination for the attainment of reciprocal benefits, including the exchange of information.”32 The dispute between Argentina and Brazil erupted in the early 1970s over the issue of prior notification and consultation. The incorporation of these principles in the 1979 Agreement brought a peaceful resolution of the disagreement and led to cooperation in the Paraná River basin. By agreeing to Brazil’s and Argentina's exploitation of the Paraná River, Paraguay has able to develop its tremendous hydropower potential, and it is said to have become the largest exporter of electricity in the world.33

Brazil was party to the agreement on the Paraná River. Lena and I visited the Parliament, Brasilia 2006. Photo: From the author’s personal photo collection

Stephen C. McCaffrey, “Water, Politics, and International Law”, in Peter H. Gleick, ed., Water in Crisis: A Guide to the World's Fresh Water Resources, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), p. 97. 33 Fred Pearce, “Tide of Opinion Turns Against Superdams”, Panscope, No. 33, November 1992, p. 3. 32

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International Freshwater Resources: Conflict or Cooperation?

It is of vital interest to Paraguay to maintain cordial relations with Argentina and Brazil, since these countries control Paraguay's outlets to the Atlantic Ocean. The willingness of the Brazil to accept some of Argentina's demands may be due to its limited interest involved in the Itaipu project as it was looking for the possible need of the hydro-power in the future. Moreover, the concession to Argentina regarding the issue of prior consultation and notification did not pose any serious threat to its own development plan. The fear of Argentina was, that in the absence of coordination, the dam at Itaipu would prevent the execution of its own proposed dam project. Its major concern was not about the quality or quantity of the water but to participate in its management, and once it was achieved, the door was opened for cooperation. 30.2.3.4

The Nile River

The basin of the world's longest river, the Nile, includes ten states – Rwanda, Burundi, Zaire, Tanzania, Kenya, Uganda, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Sudan and Egypt – and the largest consumer of its water are the two last riparians. The Nile is formed by two main tributaries: the White Nile and the Blue Nile and both converge at the Sudanese capital, Khartoum and then flows through Egypt and drains into the Mediterranean. Though most of the water of this river is used by Egypt and Sudan, 86 percent of the discharge originates in Ethiopia.34 In 1929, Sudan represented by Britain signed an agreement with Egypt in which 48 billion cubic meters of water was allocated to Egypt, while Sudan's share was 4 billion. From the early 1930s, irrigational agriculture gradually came to Sudan and the demand for water increased. On the eve of its independence and following the Egyptian revolution in 1952, the administration in Sudan started demanding to renegotiate the water agreement with Egypt. The period of 1954-58 witnessed a conflict between Sudan and Egypt over the High Aswan Dam plan and sharing of water. The relations soured when Sudan declared unilaterally its non-adherence to the 1929 Agreement. In this period of tension, Egyptian army units were moved to the border as a show of force. After the military take-over in Sudan in 1958, Sudan began to soften its stance and a new agreement was signed in 1959 between these two countries. From the newly calculated discharge of 84 billion cubic meters per year, Egypt got the right to use 55.5 billion cubic meters, and 18.5 billion was allotted to Sudan. This agreement also included some provisions in regulating the filling of the storage created by the Aswan Dam.35

Natasha Beschorner, “Water and Instability in the Middle East”, Adelphi Papers, no. 273, Winter 1992/93, p. 45. 35 Gabriel R. Warburg, “The Nile in Egyptian-Sudanese Relations”, Orient, vol. 32, no. 4, December 1991, p. 570, and Sofus Christiansen, “Shared Benefits, Shared Problems”, in Sverre Lodgaard and Anders H. af Ornas, eds., The Environment and International Security (Oslo: PRIO Report No. 3, 1992), p. 57. 34

30.2

Water Resources and International Conflicts

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After the 1959 Agreement, the work on the Aswan Dam started in 1960 and it was completed in 1971. From the year of agreement until the fall of Sudanese President Nimeiry in 1985, Egypt had a friendly regime in Sudan. In return for helping Nimeiry to stay in power, Egypt received the concession from Sudan to carry out the Jonglei Canal project in 1978. It would decrease the loss of water of the White Nile while it passes through the sudd swamps. This canal could have supplemented an annual flow of 4.7 billion cubic meters of water, of which the Lake Nasser's share was 3.8 billion. The need for enhancing the supply arose due to noticeable decrease in the quantity of water flowing into the Lake Nasser since 1980 as result of population growth and continuing drought in the upstream areas.36 However, the opposition from the Southern Sudanese armed opposition, SPLA, brought the digging of the Canal to a halt in 1984. A number of dams are being built in Sudan to store the water of the Nile and also the construction of new dams is being considered. Due to rapid population growth, Sudan is in the need of more water to meet the demand of its food production. The country plans to introduce a new irrigation system, which may raise demand by as much as 10 billion cubic meters yearly.37 Egypt's relations with Sudan have deteriorated considerable since Nimeiry ouster in 1985. There have been demands from the Sudanese side to revise the 1959 Agreement in order to increase its share, but Egypt is strongly opposed. Sudanese officials have recently started using the threats of withholding Nile waters from Egypt. President Mubarak of Egypt has responded to this in an interview to a local newspaper Al-Akber, “Those who play with fire in Khartoum...will push us to confrontation and to defend our rights and lives.”38 Egypt, in the past, has never hesitated to use the threat of war to stop the ambitions of the upstream countries in encroaching the Nile's water. The other major threat to Egypt's water supply comes from Ethiopia, who controls the Blue Nile tributary that supplies more than 80 percent of the Nile's water entering Egypt. With its own rapid population growth and increasing food demands, Ethiopia now requires more water for her own use. Not bound by any water-sharing agreement with Egypt or Sudan, it unilaterally plans to divert 4 billion cubic metric of Blue Nile's water for its own irrigation project. In spite of objections from Egypt and Sudan, Ethiopia maintains its sovereign right to develop the water resources within its border. Economic and technological difficulties and political crises have stalled the Ethiopian plans for some years now. In the year 1990, Egypt was instrumental in blocking an African Development Bank loan to Ethiopia for a water development project, which could have reduced the flow to the downstream.39

36

R. O. Collins, The Waters of the Nile: Hydropolitics of the Jonglei Canal, 1900-1988 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990) and Gabriel R. Warburg, No. 69, p. 566. 37 Peter Beaumont, Environmental Management and Development in Drylands (London: Routledge, 1989). 38 “Water as a Weapon”, Sudan Update, vol. 6, no. 11,15 July 1995. 39 Rabin Clarke, No. 19, p. 104, and Alan Cowell, ”Now, a Little Steam. Later, May be a Water War”, New York Times, 7 February 1990.

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The situation has remained tense from the 1980s among the three major riparians —Egypt, Sudan and Ethiopia – over the distribution of the Nile's water. In an interview with the weekly al-Musawwar in May 1988, the Egyptian Defense Minister Marshal Muhammad Abdul-Halim Abu Ghazala, asked himself these rhetorical questions: “How will Egypt react if one of its southern neighbors attempts to divert the Nile waters? Will we die of thirst or fight for the supreme interests of the homeland?” The answers to these were already given by the then foreign minister of Egypt and presently the Secretary General of the UN, Boutros Boutros-Ghali in his comments in 1985: “the next war in our region will be over the waters of the Nile, not over the politics ....”40 The sharing of water among a number of riparians from the same source has made the situation complicated in the Nile basin. The water scarcity in this region has been exacerbated due to explosive population growth and the expansion of agriculture, the basin's primary sector. Over 80 percent of the population in almost all the basin countries are engaged in agricultural production. Due to its almost total dependence on the Nile's water, for Egypt this is of high foreign policy concern. However, its political dominance in the basin region has been reduced due to signing of an agreement between Sudan and Ethiopia in December 1991 to cooperate over the use of Nile water. In the absence of a basin-wide arrangement, while the demand for the water is growing in the region, it is not difficult to foresee a real conflict over the sharing of the Nile River in the near future, and the prospects of cooperation remain limited.41 The political changes make the situation unpredictable, however. For instance, the assassination attempt against Egyptian President Mubarak in Addis Ababa in 1995 was attributed to the Islamic regime in Sudan by both Egypt and Ethiopia, thus isolating Sudan. 30.2.3.5

The Ganges River

The Ganges River, about 2510 km long, rises on the southern slope of the Himalayan range in India. It moves through south-east direction in Indian territory to enter into Bangladesh. The major distributary Bhagirathi-Hooghly takes off from the southern bank of the mainstream before it reaches the border of Bangladesh. The Ganges becomes the border between India and Bangladesh for about 112 km,

Quoted in: Gabriel R. Warburg, No. 69, p. 572, and Norman Myers, “Environment and Security”, Foreign Policy, no. 74, 1989, p. 32. 41 Yahia A. Mageed, “The Nile Basin: Lessons from the Past”, in Asit. K. Biswas, ed., International Waters of the Middle East: From Euphrates-Tigris to Nile (Bombay: Oxford University Press, 1994), p. 172. Natasha Beschorner, No. 68, p. 60. A few years back, a Policy Paper of the Department of National Defence of Canada also predicts along this line. Stephen Lonegran, Climate Warning, Water Resources and geopolitical Conflict: A Study of National Dependent on the Nile, Litani and Jordan River Systems (Ottawa: Dept. of National Defence, Canada, Operational Research & Analysis Establishment, ORAE Extra-Mural Paper No. 55, March 1990), p. 57. 40

30.2

Water Resources and International Conflicts

585

and then moves towards the south-east to join Brahmaputra at the heart of Bangladesh. The combined flow runs south to empty into the Bay of Bengal. The major tributaries of the Ganges, Gandak, Kamali and Kosi originate from Nepal. The dispute over sharing the Ganges water came up in early 1950s, when Bangladesh was the eastern province of the Federation of Pakistan. It started when India planned to construct a barrage at Farakka, 18 kilometers upstream from the East Pakistan (Bangladesh) border, for the diversion of mainstream water to supplement the dry season flow of its own Bhagirathi-Hooghly River.42 In spite of Pakistani objections, India carried on with the project and unilaterally decided to begin the barrage construction in 1962. The demand of the growing Calcutta city and its port as well as agricultural needs of the state of West Bengal induced the Indian government to go ahead with the design. With the independence of Bangladesh in 1971, it was expected that this dispute would be resolved to the mutual advantage of both the neighbors in view of the help rendered by India to Bangladesh in its liberation struggle. However, the political realities in both the countries blocked the path of a negotiated settlement of the dispute. The Farakka Barrage was commissioned in 1975 on a trial basis, following an agreement signed by India and Bangladesh, for 40 days only. The assassination of pro-Indian President of Bangladesh, Mujibur Rahman in August 1975 led to deterioration in the bilateral relations between India and Bangladesh. From January 1976, India unilaterally started to divert the Ganges dry-season flow at Farakka and the new leadership of Bangladesh raised this issue in various international forums. In 1977, when a change of government took place in India, both countries came to an agreement to share the Ganges dry-season water for five years. They also pledged to work for finding long-term arrangements to augment the dry-season flows of the Ganges. For the augmentation of the dry-season flow, both the countries by 1978 came forward with their respective proposals. The Bangladeshi plan proposed the building of up-river storage dams in Nepal, and India proposed a scheme to divert water from the Brahmaputra river to the Ganges through a link canal across Bangladesh's territory. It was important for Bangladesh to involve Nepal in the project since it was seen to be more difficult for India to break a trilateral commitment than a bilateral one. On the other hand, India only wanted to work for augmenting the Ganges at the bilateral level with Nepal because of her desire to divert the increased flow for the use of its southern part, which is chronically deficient in water. All these considerations did not permit the contesting parties to accept each other’s proposal for augmentation.43

42

The rivers which have originated from the Himalayas face the 'dry season' period from the beginning of January to the end of May due to transformation of rainwater into snow in the catchment area. 43 M. Rafiqul Islam, “The Ganges Water Dispute”, Asian Survey, vol. 27, no. 8, 1987, pp. 918-34 and Ashok Swain, “Conflicts over Water: The Ganges Water Dispute”, Security Dialogue, vol. 24, no. 4, December 1993, pp. 429-439.

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International Freshwater Resources: Conflict or Cooperation?

After the expire of the 1977 agreement in 1982, there were two more agreements between the contesting parties to share the dry-season flow of the river Ganges on a short term basis. However, from November 1988, there was no agreement in force and India was withdrawing water at its own will. Due to successive failures of the bilateral negotiations, Bangladesh started to internationalize the Ganges water issue. In October 1993 it put the question before the UN General Assembly and Commonwealth Heads of Governments Meeting (CHOGM). After the change of regimes in both countries, India and Bangladesh have signed an agreement in December 1996 to share the Ganges water at Farakka for 30 years. This water sharing agreement is a breakthrough but to achieve the lasting solution to the water problem, there is a need of agreement on augmentation of the river's dry-season flow. Unfortunately, both countries still hold different views on this. The dispute over the Ganges has been about sharing its water for the five dry-season months. During the rest of the year, there is sufficient water for both India and Bangladesh. In dry-seasons, the average minimum discharge to Farakka was falling below 55,000 cusecs, but India asked to divert 40,000 cusecs while Bangladesh needed all to save its territory from environmental problems. The increasing upstream withdrawal in Northern India further lowered the dry-season flow at Farakka, which made the situation more complicated. In March 1995, Bangladesh complained of obtaining only 9000 cusecs in the acutest period which led to the assumption that the water availability at Farakka has come down to, at the most, 49,000 cusecs in the dry-season and this new figure hindered the negotiators on both sides to agree at least on a short-term basis till December 1996.44 India's withdrawal of water in the upstream has been based on its argument that it holds the sovereignty over the water resource flowing in its territory. The downstream country Bangladesh does not possess powers similar to Egypt in the Nile Basin, to safeguard its own requirements. India, for its own benefits, does not want to participate in a basin-wide framework which is favored by Bangladesh. The massive population growth and intensified use of water in the agricultural sector has been multiplying the scarcity tendency of the water in the Ganges basin. A Joint River Commission has been established by the two riparians since 1974, but it enjoys advisory power only. This conflict has fallen short of use of physical force because the sheer size and strength of one party has acted as an effective deterrent factor. However, the non-armed character should not lead to an underestimation of the seriousness of this conflict when we look at the deterioration which has taken place in the Indo-Bangladeshi relationship in the last two decades.45

Ashok Swain, “Displacing the Conflict: Environmental Destruction in Bangladesh and Ethnic Conflict in India”, Journal of Peace Research, vol. 33, no. 2, May 1996, pp. 189-204. 45 Elisabeth Corell and Ashok Swain, “India: The Domestic and International Politics of Waster Scarcity”, in Leif Ohlsson, ed., Hydropolitics : Conflicts over Water as a Development Constraint (London: Zed Books, 1995), pp. 123-148. 44

30.2

Water Resources and International Conflicts

30.2.3.6

587

Comparing the Five Cases

In all the selected five river basins, at some time or another, there have been disagreements over the sharing of the waters among the riparians. Thus, sharing a river between several countries is likely to involve a certain amount of friction, no matter who the countries are. We also observe that in all the cases, there are efforts to cooperate among the contending riparians to exploit their respective international rivers. In three cases – the Colorado, Rhine and Paraná – agreements have been reached over the contentious issues involved and successful schemes of cooperation among the water-user nations have been worked out. It also appears that such agreements have a positive effect on overall cooperation among the states. Also, the reverse may be true: it is easier to make agreements when there is considerable interest of another nature in having international cooperation. In two cases – Nile and Ganges – there have been some agreements, but the conflictual tendencies are more apparent among the contending nations with respect to water management, but also to over-all relationships. The disputes have been confined to diplomatic and political behavior. No wars have erupted. However, explicit military threat has been part of the picture in at least one of the disputes, Egypt-Sudan, and the military asymmetry may act as a deterring factor in one case (India-Bangladesh), i.e. the two cases may be those which have the largest potential of escalation. How can these differences be explained? First, we may note that there are many common features, which means that many simple explanations will not suffice. All river basins show increases in population or in general economic activity. Also, we can note that the issues are international in character, involving governments on opposite sides. Thus, the typical inter-state rivalry could in principle be expected in all cases, but the outcomes still vary. It is, furthermore interesting to observe that the negotiations have been carried out among the parties themselves, without assistance or guarantee of any third party. The number of countries involved is not a difference either: Agreements were reached in bilateral relations as well as in multinational relations, agreements failed in bilateral and multilateral situations. Successful cooperation is not limited to developed democracies of Europe and USA only. It has involved countries in Latin America: Mexico is party to the River Colorado Agreement, fairly undemocratic regimes in Argentina, Paraguay and Brazil negotiated the Paraná arrangement. Working collaborative arrangements are, thus, not simply a matter of countries being rich or democratic. Also, we have seen that the issues are not strictly inter-governmental. On both sides the river question involves many intra-national actors as well. The accommodation thus has to involve a settlement on two levels: between the governments, and between each government and local actors in its own society. This made an agreement costly (in the Colorado case, for USA) or slow in implementation (in the Rhine case, by France ), but did not prevent agreement.

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A close look of these five cases brings out one major and one additional difference between the cases of successful cooperation and the conflicting ones. The major differences concern an aspect of the issues involved in the disputes. Let us review the three cases with working agreements first, and then discuss the other two. the Colorado River basin, the increasing salinity due to agricultural pollution was the issue of the contention between Mexico and USA. As mentioned, Mexico was unhappy over the quality of the water, not its quantity. The US Chief Negotiator had even described the 1972 Agreement as one of dollars rather than water. The US satisfied the demand of the Mexico mainly by building a desalinization plant. It would have been comparatively difficult for USA to negotiate over the quantity of the water given to Mexico. As was also mentioned before, the farmers of the South-western part of USA were not prepared to give away more water than what is allocated in 1944 Agreement. The successful ongoing cooperation between USA and Mexico over the Colorado River after 1972 can also be attributed to the increasing runoff in the river. The data of the River Colorado's runoff at Lees Ferry, Arizona projects the increased flow from the 1960–64 to 1980–84. As Figure 30.1 suggests, the yearly mean runoff average in the early 1960s was only 291.2 cumecs which has jumped to 528.8 in the early 1980s. There has been also an increase in the monthly minimum runoff at that time (from 83.4 cumecs to 329 cumecs), and this, of course, reduces the scarcity tendency of the water supply and helps to dilute the pollution in the water. This increased runoff has been possible mostly due to better water management in the irrigation sector. The dispute over the waters of the Rhine came up due to salt pollution from the French mines in the 1970s. As in the case of Colorado, the downstream countries, particularly the Netherlands, objected to the quality of the receiving water, not its volume. Due to comparable economic development of all the basin states, it was not difficult for them to accept the formula of cost-sharing arrangement for investments halting the pollution. While the agreement on Colorado was over dollars, not water, the same deal can be seen in the case of Rhine, where the negotiation and agreement centered on the costs (francs, not water). The successful cooperation among the basin states of the Rhine has now been going on for more than a decade, without being hampered by the shortage of water in the river. As we see in Fig. 30.2, the maximum and minimum monthly runoff average as well as the average of the yearly mean runoff of the Rhine River at Lobith station of the Netherlands have increased from 1960–64 to 1986–90. The maximum monthly run-off average in the first half of the 1960s was 3 173.1 cumecs, which has increased to 3927.4 cumecs in the late 1980s. Similarly, the minimum runoff has increased from 1021.1 cumecs to 1442.9 in the corresponding time period. Also, the mean flow in a year has jumped from 1969 cumecs to 2365.2. The availability of larger volume of water in the downstream clearly projects that the quantity of the water has not been an issue of the discontent. Rather, it can be argued that the increased runoff, by helping the quality improvement, is paving the way for the successful mutual cooperation among the riparians of the Rhine River.

30.2

Water Resources and International Conflicts

Maximum Monthly Runoff Average

Yearly Mean Runoff Average

589

Minimum Monthly Runoff Average

Fig. 30.1 Comparing the Runoff of the Colorado River. Source: The river runoff data is from The Global Runoff Centre, D-56068 Koblenz, Germany. To obtain the maximum runoff average of these years, we have taken the monthly flows for those months which were the highest to get an average. The yearly mean runoff average is calculated by dividing the total flow of the river in these years in to an average monthly basis. The minimum runoff average is derived from the lowest monthly flows of these years.

1960-64 1986-90

Runoff Average

Average

Runoff Average

Fig. 30.2 Comparing the Runoff of the Rhine River in the Netherlands. Source and categories: Same as Fig. 30.1

The conflict over the Paraná River came up between Brazil and Argentina as a part of their competition to have their say in the regulation and control of the water resources in Paraguay. The bilateral agreement in the early 1970s between Brazil and Paraguay over the construction of Itaipu dam became the source of irritation for Argentina as the country was being left out. The main purpose of the Itaipu dam

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being hydro-power production, the quantum of water supply to Argentina was not an issue. Rather the dispute concerned the control of the supply. Once Argentina found its place in Itaipu's regulating mechanism, the three basin states had no problem in cooperating among themselves over the water resource exploitation. The issue of disagreement among the riparians of the Paraná River has never been over the scarce supply of the water. As Fig. 30.3 suggests, the runoff of the Paraná River has increased from the 1960–64 period to the 1979–83 period. Even after the Itaipu dam in the upstream had started its operation in the early 1980s, the downstream discharge in Argentina increased. The maximum and minimum monthly runoff at the Corrientes station of Argentina has increased from 21,667.2 and 9584.8 cumecs in 1960–64 to 35,220 and 19,480 cumecs in 1979–83 respectively. The yearly mean runoff also has increased from 15,983.3 cumecs to 25,327.5 in the corresponding time periods. The total volume of water available in this river is much larger in quantity and the demand for the direct consumption of water is not that high in the dependent basin. This means that the conflict over Paraná has not been over the amount of available water; rather its increased runoff has positively contributed in solving the contention over the water management of the resource among the riparians. For the other two cases, the picture is different. In the case of the Nile, the disagreement between two major users Egypt and Sudan has always been over deciding their share of the water. The 1929 Agreement was changed due to increasing demand for water in Sudan. The Agreement of 1959 was possible to certain extent as the river's runoff at that time had increased from 1929 according to updated calculations and a large volume of the water had been left unallocated in the 1929 Agreement. However, due to rapidly increasing internal water demand, Sudan became dissatisfied with 1959 Agreement. In failing to carry out the Jonglei 40000 1960-64 1979-83

Maximum Monthly Runoff Average

Yearly Mean Runoff Average

Minimum Monthly Runoff Average

Fig. 30.3 Comparing the Runoff of the Paraná River in Argentina. Source: As in Fig. 30.1

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Water Resources and International Conflicts

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Project, there is now less hope to augment the supply of river and to go for a newly calculated arrangement with Egypt. The growing population and acute water scarcity in Egypt do not allow her to compromise the share of water she has been given in the 1959 Agreement. Ethiopia for its own needs, like Sudan, also wants to use more of the water which is flowing in its own territory. The declining quantity of the water has been the most important factor in the conflictual position adopted by the three major riparians of the Nile system. The runoff of the Nile River inside Sudan has decreased considerably from the time of its signing the agreement with Egypt to the time when it started to demand revision of the agreement. The maximum and minimum monthly runoff of the Nile River at Dongola, Sudan have declined from 9018.8 and 847.6 cumecs respectively in 1960–64 period to 5389 and 657 cumecs in 1980–84 period. The yearly mean runoff of the river also fell from 2941.8 cumecs to 1814.5 cumecs in the corresponding periods. This reduced supply has been mainly due to increased water use in the further upstream countries, like Ethiopia. In this scarcity condition, it is increasingly difficult for Sudan to meet its own requirements as well as the quota, stipulated by 1959 Agreement, of delivering to the Egypt. The sheer reduction in availability of the water has destroyed the cooperative arrangement of this basin and has led to conflicts. The dispute between India and Bangladesh over the Ganges River has come up due to India's diversion of water at Farakka barrage to meet its own growing needs. The increasing demand of these two countries had been the major hindrance to reach an agreement over the sharing of the Ganges water. The quantity of the water has always been the main focus of their negotiation and the fear of future water scarcity has blocked any lasting arrangement on the river. The decreased flow to the Farakka due to upstream withdrawals, had led to India's decision of not renewing the short-term arrangements after 1988 till 1996. The increased demand in Bangladesh did not allow its negotiators to agree to a lower level of available water than what has been decided earlier. In Fig. 30.4, we see the fall in the quantum of Ganges water available to the Bangladesh from Indian side from the years of the short-term sharing arrangement to the years of without any agreement. The maximum monthly runoff of the Ganges at Hardinge Bridge station of Bangladesh has fallen from 45,296.7 cumecs in 1985– 87 to 32,802.1. Most importantly, in the corresponding time periods, the minimum monthly runoff has also declined from 1015.3 cumecs to 618 cumecs, while the yearly mean runoff has declined from 13,335.1 cumecs to 8530.6 cumecs. Due to this falling supply when its own demand is rapidly increasing, Bangladesh had no other option but to demand for more water from the Indian side. However, India's own scarcity situation did not allow her to meet these demands and this led to conflict between the two riparians. The issues of disagreement in the cases of Colorado and Rhine have been quality, in the Paraná, it has been the control and regulation and for the Nile and Ganges, it has been the quantity. In the first three cases, there has been no disagreement over the amount of available water to the riparians and all these basins have opted for successful cooperation. The increased runoff of these rivers has

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International Freshwater Resources: Conflict or Cooperation?

1985-87 H ‘ 1988-1992

Fig. 30.4 Comparing the Runoff of the Ganges River in Bangladesh. Source: As in Fig. 30.1

further helped the basin countries in their cooperative endeavors. However, in the Nile and Ganges basin, the disputes have always centered on the availability of the water resource. Water is irreplaceable – so, the problem of its reduced quantity cannot be easily solved. The quantity factor in these cases have contributed to destroying existing cooperative arrangements and led the parties to take conflicting positions. The quantity issue can, most easily be formulated in a zero-sum game: what country X gets is denied to country Y, whereas issues of quality is something all may gain from, and control is something that can more easily be shared. This means that the three cases, Colorado, Rhine and Paraná, may have been ‘fortunate’ as there is more water in these rivers than before, presumably rising at a rate keeping pace with population growth. The conflicts have basically been remedied by increasing the resources. Such a pattern is not easily repeated in the other two cases, although a case might be made for improved water management in irrigation, etc. In addition to the quantity issue, the three cases of successful cooperation are different from the two conflict cases on the basis of their sharing arrangements. Over the Colorado, Rhine and Paraná rivers, the riparians have come together in a basin-wide framework and the agreements do not exclude relevant parties. However, for the Nile and Ganges, the attempted arrangements have been mostly bilateral, and thus not aimed at including the entire basin. This means that they have been more concerned about political management of the issue than in finding appropriate and equitable ways of sharing legitimately based interests among all relevant parties. This can be seen by the absence of important upstream countries, for instance Ethiopia in the case of the Nile and Nepal in the case of the Ganges, in

30.2

Water Resources and International Conflicts

593

the agreements. There is a similarity in the Egypt-Sudan and India-Bangladesh relationship, where the first country has dominant attitude to the second one. The water issue might then be seen as a political tool, more than a human question, on either side of the relationship. A more comprehensive, less politicized approach might be preferable, although more complicated, in working out a lasting arrangement.

30.3

Searching for Ways to Share International Rivers

What we have seen so far in this study is that the way the water issue is defined and handled is very important: if it consists of a quantity issue difficulties accumulate. If, in addition, it activates a previous political divide, management might not be pursued in the equitable way required for a lasting solution. Under such circumstances, the increasing pressure to exploit the international rivers to meet the water scarcity situation may lead to growing disagreements among the riparians and existing cooperative arrangements might be undermined. To meet this situation, a global consensus is needed on such issues as the right to quality water and the right to have a hearing on the issues. Besides the efforts of the International Law Association and later on the International Law Commission in preparing the draft law of the non-navigational uses of international watercourse, there have been several discussions and declarations in various international fora related to sharing of the international water resources. The United Nations Conference on the Human Environment held in Stockholm in 1972 discussed the natural resources shared by more than one country. In 1977, the first global water conference involving delegations from governments, NGOs and UN bodies took place in Mar del Plata. This United Nations Water Conference urged the use, management and development of shared water resources, national policies should take into consideration the right of each state sharing the resources to equitably utilize such resources as the means to promote the bonds of solidarity and co-operation.”46 No other similar conference was held until the International Conference on Water and the Environment (ICWE), in Dublin, Ireland, from 26 to 31 January 1992. The Dublin Statement, while advocating the river basin approach for the planning and management of water resources, recommended the preparation and implementation of integrated management plans, endorsed by all affected governments and backed by international agreements.”47 These recommendations of ICWE were incorporated into the Agenda 21 (Chap. 18), which was the main 46

Report of the United Nations Water Conference, Mar del Plata, 14-25 March 1977, New York: United Nations Document No. E/CONF. 70/29, 1977. 47 “The Dublin Statement on Water and Sustainable Development”, Annex 1 in Gordon J. Young and others, Global Water Resource Issues (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), pp. 161-166.

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outcome of the Rio Conference (The United Nations Conference on Environment and Development, June 1992). There have been numerous separate attempts made by, for instance, the World Bank, United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), United Nations Water Conference and FAO in finding ways of successfully sharing of international watercourses among the states. The World Bank follows the Operational Directive 7.50 to finance the projects on international rivers. The Directive is based on two main principles, ”no appreciable harm to other riparians” and ”equitable sharing by all the riparians.” 48 Through the initiative of the UNEP, a pilot project has been formed to share the waters of the Zambezi River among its 8 riparians. This experience is also being implemented by the UNEP for the Lake Chad Basin and the Damman aquifer in the Arabian Peninsula. The recent setting up the World Water Council (WWC) and Global Water Partnership (GWP) may further help the peaceful sharing of international rivers.49 In the absence of a universally acceptable legal framework, it is not easy to address the problems associated with the sharing of international rivers. However, as the evidence suggests in many cases, parties concerned are reaching voluntary agreement among themselves. Two surveys by FAO of the United Nations (one in 1978 and the other in 1984), compiled 3707 agreements among the riparian countries, most of which are bilateral ones.50 These treaties extend back centuries and they deal with various aspects of river water use. The presence of these treaties has been instrumental in reducing the conflicts among the riparians, but due to increasing demand for water resources, many of them are beginning to flounder. These treaties on the individual river basins are in most cases not completely cooperative in nature as they do not include all the affected riparians. It has been the case when negotiating on the Ganges and the Nile. The other problem with these individual agreements among the riparians is that it cannot be enforced by a third party. Due to its self-enforcement nature, the successful implementation of the agreements depends upon the behavior of the signatories.51 Some of these agreements have led to the establishment of the river basin commissions, but most of these commissions concentrate on exchange of information rather than allocation of the flow.52 In some cases, the countries are not prepared to share the data with the other member of the commission.

48

World Bank, Operational Directive 7.50: Projects on International Waterways, World Bank, Washington, 1990. 49 Ashok Swain, “Sharing International Rivers: The Need for a Regional Approach”, in Nils Petter Gleditsch, ed., Conflict and the Environment (Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1997). 50 Food and Agricultural Organization, Systematic Index of International Water Resource Treaties, Declaration, Acts and Cases by Basin (Rome: FAO, Legislative Study No. 15, 1978); Vol. II (Rome: FAO, Legislative Study No. 34, 1984). 51 Scott Barrett, No. 50, p. 6. 52 Malin Falkenmark, ”Global Water Issues Confronting Humanity”, Journal of Peace Research, vol. 27, no 2, 1990, p 184.

30.4

30.4

Conclusions

595

Conclusions

From the analysis of global scarcity and international conflict we conclude the following. First, there is a quantitative problem of water scarcity, in particular in developing countries. The ratio of population to water resources is increasing, as captured by the water barrier concept. It is interesting to note, however, that in richer countries, the water availability in the river systems has increased, not decreased. Probably this can be attributed to improved ways of water management. Thus, there might be a potential of remedying some of the water scarcity problem through improved skills in water management. Second, there is a larger conflict potential in water quantity issues than in water quality issues. In the latter cases, it appears that countries have been capable of finding formulas for handling the questions. Thus, issues of pollution and regulation appear to have a record of finding solutions. However, in cases where the quantity of water is the one of central concern, the conflicts sharpen. It easily becomes a zero-sum game: ”it is my water or your water.” This appears to be the situation in some major rivers in developing countries, where populations are also rising rapidly. There are various doctrines for dividing water between countries. The strength of countries, in military terms or in hydrological terms (up-stream location versus down-stream location) appears decisive. If, however, the basic principle of an internationally agreed and guaranteed equal human right to water of human quality were to be the point of judgment, the legal situation might change significantly. Then, water would be the right of the individual rather than the state, and an equal portioning on this basis would be the only legitimate one. Third, among the existing norms or doctrines for sharing water, we find that they have significant inconsistency. Such inconsistencies are difficult to avoid, but may, in this case, make countries subscribe to a particular rule, because it can be interpreted in a particular way. This suggests the importance of instituting an International Water Court, for make a judgment on international water disputes. This instrument, furthermore, would be most relevant if a case could be brought before the Court, when at least one complaint is raised, presumably by a national or local government. This idea is worth closer scrutiny. Fourth, the successful cases of handling river water disputes appeared to be those cases where an ”international regime” covered an entire river basin, not just two major users of the river. The reason might be that this gives a chance of more relaxed discussions, more coalition building, and, in essence, more third party activity, if the conflict threatens to posit two countries particularly hard against each other. Fifth, the situations are normally not plain: a country may at the same time have an upstream location on one river and a downstream position on another. As countries want to be consistent in order not to incite more conflict than necessary, this might have a softening impact on governments. Thus, it would be interesting to find out which countries do have such a double position and more closely analyze

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such cases. A hunch is that the pointing to such a double position might have an impact of countries seemingly acting aggressively on the water issue in one relation. This, furthermore, might contribute in developing international rules. Such rules would simplify the handling of water disputes for all parties concerned, not the least countries in such a double position. By building on this interest, in addition to other considerations, international support for general and more precise rules could be further developed. Sixth, we observe that the international river water sharing issue has not been pursued as seriously as the situation demands by the international organizations. This can be attributed to the inherent sensitivity of these issues. Probably a more successful strategy would be to deal with different water issues differently. For instance, the issue of quantity should be dealt separately from the issue of quality or regulation control. Finally, the end of the Cold War might make it easier to bring up the water issue internationally and it might also now be possible to make principles of equitable sharing more acceptable. We have noted that also during the Cold War, the different interests between countries located up-stream and down-stream was marked, and this distinction does not easily fade. Also in the future, the political aspects should not be neglected. Thus, we conclude that the end of the Cold War has freed the issue from one of its shackles; it remains for decision-makers to grasp this opportunity. And do this before the water issue has been taken over by emerging concerns of a particularistic type.

J Acting for Peace—Academic Diplomacy

With former Prime Minister Rabbie Namaliu, who served as Prime Minister 1988–1992. Port Moresby, PNG, 2010. From the author’s personal photo collection

Chapter 31

Strengths and Limits of Academic Diplomacy: The Case of Bougainville Peter Wallensteen

Abstract In early 1990 Peter Wallensteen was involved as a third party in the armed conflict between the Bougainville Revolutionary Army and the government of Papua New Guinea. It resulted in the first agreement in this conflict and it led to a cease-fire. In this first-hand account Wallensteen illustrates the role of an academic third party in an armed conflict.

31.1

The Beginning

The phone call in mid-January 1990 from the Bougainville branch of the University of Papua New Guinea is short and crisp:1 – – – – – – –

Is this Professor Wallensteen? It is Graeme Kemelfield calling. Yes, that is me. We have read your article! Yes… We find it relevant! Oh! Can you come?

This unexpected call became the starting point of an intense involvement in a conflict in the South Pacific. It also sparked an interest in the use of peace research for practical diplomacy, with the advantage of a base in the academic community. It became an exercise in academic diplomacy for peace and security. The story that unfolded also illustrated a series of key concerns in mediation theory: the entry of the third party (who is inviting whom at what moment in time for what particular function), the process of third party actions (what to do, when, how and with what results) and the exit of the third party (when to end, how and what happens then). This text first appeared as Wallensteen, Peter 2009. “The Strengths and Limits of Academic Diplomacy: The Case of Bougainville”, in Aggestam, Karin and Magnus Jernek (eds) Diplomacy in Theory and Practice, Essays in honor of Christer Jönsson, Liber: Malmö, pp. 258–281. Reproduced with permission.

1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_31

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All these questions were challenging and systematic information to answer them was only slowly being gathered. In 1990 the literature was highly limited (e.g., Touval/Zartman 1985; Azar/Burton 1986). There were also an increasing number of case studies, particularly on the Palestine conflict (e.g., Corbin 1994; Kelman 1997; Bercovitch 1997; Zartman 1997; Makovsky 1998; Aggestam 1999), Sri Lanka (e.g., Höglund and Svensson 2002) and reports from participants in various peace processes (Bildt 1998; Savir 1998; Holbrooke 1999; Mitchell 1999; Egeland 2008). There were several volumes with comparative case studies (e.g., Zartman/ Richardson 1997; Stern/Druckman 2000) and some systematic collections of data with analysis (Bercovitch 1996; Greig 2001; Harbom et al. 2006; Nilsson 2006, 2008; Svensson 2006, 2007). Still, an eyewitness/participant account of a phase of academic diplomacy in Bougainville may have its particular value. The peacemaking in this conflict has attracted increasing attention particularly following the peace agreement in 2001 (Rolfe 2001; Regan 2002 among many other, Boege 2006). The events of 1990, however, have not gained the same attention (Carl/Garasu 2002; Wallensteen 2005 has a little on this). Now, for the first time, I am providing a detailed account as such an invited third party, close to twenty years later when some of the tensions may have subsided. It will raise some conclusions for mediation theory and ask whether such academic diplomacy does have a role to play: What are its strengths and weaknesses?

31.2

Entering the Conflict

Through the work of the conflict data project in the Department of Peace and Conflict Research, I was aware of the land conflict in Bougainville. From a distance it seemed peculiar: The landowners were rebelling! Our thinking was normally geared to tenants and small farmers reacting against major landowners. In Bougainville it was landowners who took up arms against a major international corporation, Bougainville Copper Limited, a subsidiary of an Australian company, and against the government defending its mining operation. Bougainville was not only a beautiful island in the Western waters of the South Pacific. It was also built on a geological formation rich in high-quality copper ore. Its beauty, I soon witnessed, was tarnished by tailings from the open pit mining that had gone on for 15 years. It was one of the most lucrative mining operations in the world. Indeed, the mine was said to have earned back its initial investment in the very first year of production. However, there was a price: Rivers and waters outside the river mouth were polluted, the fish had disappeared and the mine was literally eating up the ground that had provided the income for the landowners. The landowners had been paid by the early representatives of the company, but it was mostly men who had signed the deals, taken the money and wasted it in the nearest bar. They did not mind, as they knew it was their wives, not they, who were the true owners. Bougainville has a strong matriarchal tradition and land was

31.2

Entering the Conflict

601

inherited from mother to daughter, while the boys, as one mother told me, “were married away in the next village.” Thus, according to custom, the agreement had no value. However, PNG was applying Western laws and the PNG government – in distant Port Moresby on the main island – received its share of the copper income. Many in Bougainville felt cheated. The association of landowners had made specific but expensive demands, which went unheeded. This led some members to encourage the taking up of arms. An armed movement developed its own explosives by using some of the remnants from the major battle that went on between the Americans and Japanese in Bougainville, almost 50 years earlier, during the Second World War. By January 1990 the conflict had escalated. There had been an attempt at indirect negotiations, but to no avail. The PNG government under Prime Minister Rabbie Namaliu was a coalition of several parties with different agendas. The balance had shifted towards a military solution and the government initiated a new offensive to crush the rebels once and for all. The rebels, now organized as the Bougainville Revolutionary Army (BRA), were led by the mysterious and reclusive Francis Ona, who seldom participated in public functions, and his commander, Samuel Kauona, who was trained in Australia and had the bomb-making skills that BRA needed. Thus, by January 1990, the conditions on the island had deteriorated considerably. The copper mine had ceased to function in May 1989. Many of the workers and others, attracted by the strong economy of the island, began to leave. To some extent they were pushed out by the Bougainvilleans, a form of ‘ethnic cleansing’ clearly taking place, although the term had not yet gained currency. The government’s campaign, however, misfired: The locals, whether supportive or not of BRA, felt harassed and abused by the PNG forces, who largely came from other parts of the ethnically diverse state. BRA gained new recruits, but was also pushed into the forests of the island. BRA began to argue for secession, developing plans to make the island an independent republic. This, in turn, made the national government even more determined to end the rebellion, fearing other parts of the culturally diverse state could follow suit. In this situation, the local administration of the province, the North Solomons, found itself squeezed between the national government and the rebels. To find a way out, it formed a ‘think-tank’ led by a University teacher, Graeme Kemelfield, originally from Australia, but married to a Bougainvillean. The think-tank had come across an article I had written on the conditions of conflict resolution. It got it from a former participant in a SIDA-sponsored program at Uppsala University. They contacted International Alert, an NGO in London led by Martin Ennals, formerly Secretary-General of Amnesty International, who in turn gave them my telephone number. Of course, it was a challenge to become a third party actor in a difficult conflict. The think-tank had no money, but the Director General of SIDA, the Swedish International Development Authority, Carl Tham, was willing to give me SEK 50,000 (about US$ 7000) to go. I cancelled my lectures in Uppsala and flew to the capital of PNG, where I arrived on February 10. It resulted in three weeks of very intensive diplomacy. The fact that an academic professor in peace from the other

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side of the planet unexpectedly had a key role drew attention, not the least as some results were achieved. It gave me some insights into the strengths and limits of academic diplomacy.

31.3

The Parties

The way I entered the conflict, as a complete outsider, with no experience in the area, from a neutral country that also had no record or particular interest in the region, and from a university, which was respected and seen as a civil, non-governmental institution, were three significant assets. Professors carried respect for impartiality but also for creativity and knowledge. A lack of national or business interest added to my credibility. A first question skeptics asked me was: Who is paying you? To be able to answer truthfully – that this was SIDA – improved my standing, not the least since development aid carried high regard at this time, to some even implying the promise of future support. Thus, there was no suspicion among the parties in PNG against either me or my role, as far as I could determine. The same day I landed in Port Moresby I was taken to the Prime Minister’s Office in one of the tallest buildings in the city. In fact, from the office, one could only see one taller building in the neighborhood. “That is the Australian High Commission,” I was told, with an undertone of bitterness. Prime Minister Namaliu outlined his and the cabinet’s views of the Bougainville conflict. In condensed form this is what he told me: We want to end this conflict peacefully. We do not like seeing our own citizens killed. We do not like the bad publicity our country is receiving in the international media. We are a peaceful and diverse country. We want to open the copper mine again. The incomes are needed for Bougainville and for the country. Please, explain this to the rebels when you meet them. Everything can be discussed. But we cannot accept secession. That has to be clear. I inherited Papua New Guinea as a country of many peoples united as one state. That is the way I am going to hand over this state to my successor one day. I am not going to see a dismantling of the state. In short, Prime Minister Namaliu outlined the principle of territorial integrity. It was not possible for him and his government to operate differently, he made clear. PNG, I was informed, consists of peoples with more than 700 different languages. If one area were to secede, others might want to do the same, particularly those with resources, leaving all the others in poverty. He could illustrate the point with recent riots in some gold-mining areas. To my direct question of whether some form of autonomy were possible, he did not rule that out. In fact, the constitution allowed for self-rule for different provinces. Bougainville, being the main part of the North Solomons province, already had considerable autonomy. ”It even has its own Premier,” he said. Certainly this was true, the decentralization that had been offered had been particularly well received in Bougainville. This, in turn, was the result of a short-lived declaration of independence that island representatives had made in

31.3

The Parties

603

1975, when PNG became independent. A delegation had actually gone to the UN to demand recognition. A leader of that movement was now a representative of the province and had a seat in the government. The issues were clearly stated by the government: end to the violence, a discussion on the opening of the mine but also a discussion on the status of the island within PNG. With this in the back of my mind, I flew to Bougainville, which was under a state of emergency. Nobody was allowed to visit without special permission of the government. This was all arranged. The think-tank, indeed, had prepared for this mission properly. It became very significant for what was to follow. The idea was originally that we were to be three, but the two others withdrew for various reasons. That left me as the lone outsider. On arrival at the airport I was met by Graeme Kemelfield. When we set out for the University branch, we were stopped at a PNG roadblock. I began to understand the harassment to which ordinary people were exposed. The soldiers were arrogant, nervous and not willing to accept the papers I had from their own government. Grim-looking, armed soldiers climbed into our car and we were driven off to the military headquarters. My luggage was searched and some papers on the Bougainville conflict were confiscated. It was not a promising start to a peace mission! However, the security officer in charge was better informed. He apologized and listened to Kemelfield’s explanation of our mission. Finally, he assured us that the Toyota Land Cruiser with the University of PNG emblem on its doors was allowed to pass through the lines, as far as the government side was concerned. However, some of the papers were not returned. Thus, we arrived safely at the meeting of the think-tank, which consisted of some four additional persons with vast contacts across the island. Through informal channels they had already arranged a visit with BRA leader Samuel Kauona. A day later, February 15, we set out to visit BRA-held territory. The PNG soldiers around the airport now made no difficulties, the University car could pass. We entered into abandoned territory, passing an empty schoolhouse, and continued on the main road, where there was no other traffic but our vehicle. Suddenly, we were stopped by a group of men with odd-looking weapons, including some old rifles. Most of them had no shoes, and they were wearing shorts and T-shirts (I recall one with the inscription ‘I love New York’). This was the BRA roadblock. The BRA soldiers were indeed a different crowd from the PNG forces. They were distinctly less well equipped, even demonstrating the slingshot as their ‘best’ weapon. They were more black (it turned out they subscribed to the notion of ‘Black is Beautiful’ and in fact called the PNG forces, which were drawn from other islands, ‘Redskins’). They were in a happier mood and welcomed us to their area. They climbed onto the car and gave directions to the driver. We veered off onto smaller and smaller roads, until the road turned into a path. The car was hidden under the thick coverage of trees and brushes. “We are worried about the government’s attack helicopters,” they explained. From there on, we progressed by

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foot. My think-tank colleagues did not look worried, but I reflected on whether I would ever return to Uppsala. The walk was not too long and we arrived at a camp, where the meeting was to take place. The military leader of the BRA, Samuel Kauona, appeared, smiling happily, offered a drink in cocoa milk as a welcome and we sat down for a conversation. It lasted for about four hours. He outlined his view of the conflict. In summary form, the following was his perspective: We do not want to fight this war. But we have no choice. The copper mine had destroyed our land, our waters and our fish. The environment was deteriorating. By stopping the production, we have also stopped pollution. The fish are now recovering. We have ruled ourselves for 40,000 years. We have survived on our lands; we can continue to live by ourselves. We do not need the mining; we do not need the PNG government. The government only wants to destroy us. He turned to me and asked a pointed question: “We hear on the BBC that Lithuania has declared itself independent. We understand that. Tell me, Professor, why do we have to be with this country [he meant PNG] which we have never asked to be with? Is that democracy?” The position was very clear. He and the BRA did not want violence, they did not want the mine and they did not want to be ruled by the PNG government. Except for the desire to stop the violence, there was nothing on which he and the government agreed. The parties were in a situation where they had positions that entirely contradicted each other. The elements of conflict were obvious: There was fear on each side of what the other wanted to do, there were actions that underscored this, and the key issues seemed to be incompatible. Indeed, there was a need for a third party looking at the situation.

31.4

A Third Party Perspective

After his initial explanation of the BRA position, the conversation with Sam Kauona turned into a serious discussion on self-rule and independence. I told him of the Åland Islands, located between Sweden and Finland. It made him interested, not only because these were also islands, albeit distant. What interested him were the demilitarization and the autonomy of the islands. “We do not want armies in our land,” he explained, although he had a military background himself in the PNG Defence Forces. Formally, he had actually deserted the national force to join the rebel movement: “We want to rule ourselves, but we are not interested in embassies in other countries or in the UN.” I understood this to mean that, to him at least, island self-rule was the most important, not necessarily statehood as an independent republic. Much of what one could have as an independent state would actually be acquired with a sufficiently strong autonomy. However, he was not interested in opening the mine again. Others around him were less resolute on this issue. Some actually indicated to me that they could accept mining production from the present mine (but no new mines) if it were under

31.4

A Third Party Perspective

605

‘responsible management.’ To them that meant it could not be under an Australian company. Other companies could be possible, one person confided to me, even hinting to the possibility of a Swedish one. From my conversations with Kauona, it emerged that he could imagine a discussion on the key issues with the government. He even said “the sooner, the better.” In his view, however, a third party had to be presented. He would not trust the government. That had to do with the fighting: “There can be no talks as long as the government wants to wipe us out. The government has proclaimed a ‘total war’ against us. That has to stop!” In other words, a credible cease-fire was a first step. Much peace research literature discusses the significance of cease-fires. There are too many examples of failed cease-fires. Either they are extremely short-lived (violations can occur easily, conditions can be unclear, and fears can linger) or very long-lasting (thus, in effect freezing a situation along the military lines, as seen in the cases of the divided Korea and divided Cyprus). A cease-fire arrangement, in other words, has to be strongly coupled to a peace process, not a measure on its own. However, Kauona was more concerned with the modalities of a cease-fire. It would have to include the withdrawal of the PNG Defence Forces from the island. He had no problem with the simultaneous disarming of the BRA forces. However, the cease-fire had to be supervised by the UN. The government, he made clear, could not be trusted. The idea of involving the UN, thus, was not to have international recognition of the BRA, but to have someone observing the government. For me, it was not difficult to anticipate the government’s objections to a UN presence: The conflict was a domestic matter, and the government was opposed to any internationalization of the issue. This was the common view in 1990, and few countries had yet accepted international involvement in domestic affairs. However, I explained to Kauona that the UN does not have its own forces, but has to call on countries to supply them. Which countries that would be acceptable then became an issue. In the end, the reply from the BRA side was “no countries in the region and only countries with a good record of human rights, such as Sweden, Norway, Denmark, and Canada.” For some reasons BRA also wanted to include an African country, in the end, that became Ghana. Indeed, New Guinea was actually given the name by a European explorer who also had been in the Bay of Guinea in West Africa and saw a similarity between the inhabitants. However, in this context, Ghana was a symbol as it was the first black African country to gain independence from colonial rule. The think-tank was pleased with the discussions and we set out to work on a cease-fire within a broader framework. I flew back to Port Moresby and explained what Kauona had told me. Prime Minister Namaliu was satisfied: Autonomy could be discussed, as well as the mining operations. The cease-fire conditions, however, were more difficult: It would require making an agreement with ‘rebels’ who actually had been breaking PNG law by taking up arms. The Prime Minister was willing to accept this, to improve the chances of peace, but other coalition partners were not. The government would have to have a special cabinet meeting. It was definitely not an easy decision.

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A particular stumbling block was, not unexpectedly, the international observers. The government did not want that, and during the discussions I could point to the situation in Nicaragua as an interesting ‘model.’ Certainly, the peace process in Nicaragua was not high on the minds of the PNG politicians, but the conflict was still well-known. The Sandinista government had agreed to international observer missions of its national elections in early 1990, as part of a process of ending the civil war with the US-sponsored rebels, the so-called Contras. The formula was that the government invited the outsiders to observe the elections. Thus, I suggested, if the PNG government invites some countries to observe the cease-fire, this means the government uses its sovereignty to do what it chooses to do. It is not an arrangement imposed from the outside. This formula was accepted, but the fact that there was a precedent was particularly convincing. The PNG foreign ministry was assigned the task of formulating the invitations to the governments that were agreed between the government and the BRA. Thus, two Swedish diplomats ended up in Bougainville in March 1990, in a mission led by a diplomat from Ghana. From this experience I concluded that academic insights were useful and, in particular, could help to strengthen the role of a third party. By following different conflicts, ideas could be identified and their use in particular settings could be reviewed. Ideas are not tied to contexts. They are transferable, even globally. Ideas from the Åland Islands and Nicaragua were applicable in the South Pacific. Thus, academics not only served as impartial listeners, but could also inject proposals into a process. In this case, a central element was the autonomy idea. As the conflict continued, this element became controversial in its own right. I became identified with the autonomy proposal. As this was closer to some parts of BRA, BRA wanted me to continue as a third party. I had been useful also for Prime Minister Namaliu, who may have seen it the same way. To others, however, this became too active a role. They preferred, in later rounds of negotiations, to have third parties who were only observing, not suggesting. That, in my view, meant that the parties could not benefit from the value-added of a third party.

31.5

Secondary Parties

Australia was the closest major country to Papua New Guinea. It had held control over the entire territory since the First World War, when it took over the parts that had belonged to Germany (which included Bougainville, by the way). It was, however, not a regular part of Australia, but a mandate under the League of Nations (later a trust territory under the UN). That is why it was natural that a group went from Bougainville to the UN at the independence of PNG in 1975. It was the UN that ‘supervised’ the trusteeship. Thus, it was to the UN that one could turn in times of crisis. However, the UN did not pay attention to the Bougainville situation until the mid-1990s. Australia may have had something to do with that. In 1990 it was still a farfetched idea.

31.5

Secondary Parties

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Australia was the central secondary party to the conflict. It was the main provider of assistance to the PNG government. It was an Australian company and Australian management that ran the copper mining in Bougainville. It was Australia that had provided helicopters for the PNG Defence Forces (ostensibly not for aggressive purposes, but it was not difficult to use them to track down people on the ground). Thus, BRA saw Australia as a hostile actor. Also, the PNG government wanted to demonstrate its distance from the Australians. However, the reality was that Australia could not be ignored. It had to be on board. Thus, I went to Canberra to inform the Swedish embassy and it, in turn, told the Australians. The ones most concerned about my mission and my doings in PNG, even baffled, were no doubt the Australian Foreign Service. One of them later said, in the blunt style that is typical: “We were really laughing when we heard the idea of a peace professor from Sweden coming to Bougainville. Now we have stopped laughing.” I take that as an element of praise. There was, however, no intention of having Australia directly involved in my and the think-tank’s approach to the mediation. The idea that emerged was a different one that turned out to be fruitful: the Commonwealth. The British Commonwealth had transformed itself into an international organization, the Commonwealth of Nations. PNG was a member, as well as some 50 other countries, many of which were smaller than PNG in terms of population. A Commonwealth member state, Grenada, had been invaded by US forces in 1983. This had upset the leading member of the organization, the United Kingdom, and by 1985 a report on security assistance to small states had been worked out. It was accepted by the Commonwealth meeting in Nassau the same year. It meant that PNG could ask for assistance from the Commonwealth Secretariat for the crisis in Bougainville. This is what now happened, apparently one of the first times this mechanism was put into practice. The idea was that the Commonwealth would participate in the observation of the cease-fire. This, it was hoped, would make the Australians more comfortable with the development. Thus, the contours of an ad-hoc peace mission were gradually taking shape: It was to consist of a set of countries, as agreed by the primary parties, and the Commonwealth. It would be recruited primarily from the diplomatic corps in Canberra, as most relevant countries did not have a representative stationed in PNG itself. The mission was to go to the island to watch the withdrawal of the PNG forces and the disarming of the BRA. Thus, the way the talks evolved in the Bougainville conflict made international participation inevitable. The BRA – as most other rebel groups around the world – could not trust the government. Indeed, that was the basic reason why they had taken up arms. The government, on its side, would not trust the rebels, as they were breaking the laws of the country. Thus, it seems quite obvious that an international participation in any agreement is the logical answer to the dilemma. The ad hoc arrangement for Bougainville nevertheless was one of the first of its kind. Both sides were nervous about the outcome and international presence helped to reassure them of what the opponent would be able to do. Thus, having secondary parties supporting the peace efforts was crucial for ending violence in March 1990.

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The Agreement

On my return to Port Moresby, I noticed that the communications between the government and BRA were about to break down. The think-tank members were traveling across the roadblocks with a tape recorder. Sam Kauona recorded his message; the responsible officer of the PNG forces on the island, Col. Leo Nuia, responded. The idea was that the two would meet and sort out the many details of making a cease-fire. That turned out to be impossible. Neither side would be secure or could guarantee that their side could be controlled from attacking the other. My suggestion that there were now some things called mobile phones [I even indicated the name of a leading Swedish producer that might be happy to supply the equipment] was turned down: “I can be tracked,” Kauona claimed. Thus, the tape recordings were an appropriate solution. However, the two military leaders began gradually to shout at each other. The situation seemed critical. If there were no agreement on the cease-fire, there would be no continuation of the process. It now seemed crucial to find a way to connect directly. The Prime Minister wanted me to talk to Kauona. I suggested that a leading envoy from him would also join. He agreed. The idea was transmitted to Kauona, who responded quickly and positively. On February 24, the think-tank members, the Prime Minister’s special envoy and I met with Kauona on the island. The rain was pouring down and we were crammed into a small traditional house. The atmosphere was very tense. The BRA leaders were suspicious having the ‘enemy’ among them; the envoy was worried but brave. He said he had a message from the Prime Minister and he pulled out the tape. It was plugged into the recorder, but the machine refused to start. The batteries were dead. It was blamed on the rain. Frantic actions ensued. Soldiers and assistants were sent out in all directions to find batteries. The tension in the small house was almost palpable. This was a failure for BRA not to have a functioning recorder. After some time, batteries started to come in. In the end we had a bag full of batteries. The tape recorder began to function and was switched on: Only classical music! The BRA leaders stared at the special envoy: Was this a joke? He tried to calm them: The message is hidden in the tape. Clearly, the government was worried about the tape falling into the wrong hands and wanted to conceal the message. The ‘fast forward’ button brought us further into the tape. Suddenly, there was the message from the Prime Minister! The rain continued; all other movements ceased completely. The Prime Minister explained the role of the special envoy and of me. He went on to say that he had not proclaimed a ‘total war’ on the rebels. They were all citizens of the same country. There had been a tradition of living in peace among the inhabitants on Bougainville and on PNG. He wanted to restore that. He was willing to discuss any grievances the listeners might have, and he wanted to conclude a cease-fire as a first step. To this end, his special envoy was authorized to cooperate with Professor Wallensteen and the think-tank to conclude an agreement. The Prime Minister also mentioned the need for a special peace ceremony to seal the deal. His voice disappeared and the music began again. There was a moment of complete silence. How were the

31.6

The Agreement

609

guerrillas going to respond? In an instant, everything changed. They began to cheer and applaud. There were big smiles on all faces. Kauona ordered food to celebrate! The envoy looked relieved. Certainly I was. I had watched the men in the house as they listened attentively. They showed no reactions while the Prime Minster spoke. Now, the meeting turned into a major feast. Traditional foods were combined with more Western dishes. Drinks, yes, but no alcohol. The discussions continued. Darkness fell. But an agreement was worked out on when to start the cease-fire and how it was to be understood. The basics of a text were there, to be refined over the following days with the help of the think-tank and its computer. The cease-fire was to start at 6 am on Friday, March 2, 1990. The PNG forces were to be withdrawn by March 16. BRA weapons were to be assembled in three places. Neutral international observers were to supervise the process. Following implementation of the cease-fire, negotiations were to start on the issues of the status of Bougainville and on the mining operations. The agreement was to be signed by the two military commanders, Col. Nuia for the PNG and Samuel Kauona for the BRA. Thus, we could leave the meeting in a good mood. We drew back towards the government lines. It was late. Actually, it was well passed the start of the curfew. Thus, the fact that a car approached from the rebel side towards the government outpost drew considerable attention from the PNG soldiers. Our car was surrounded by a rowdy crowd of soldiers who spent the evening drinking and shooting their guns into the darkness. The Prime Minister’s envoy introduced himself and explained to the commanding officer who he was. The officer just stared back and laughed: “Yes, sure, and I am Col. Nuia!” The others around laughed and one soldier began to pull one of the think-tank members from the car. We held him back. The soldiers grabbed his glasses and took them. This was about to get out of hand. It was quite a contrast to the happy meeting with the BRA that finished less than an hour before! Could the government really control its own forces? After further discussions a more senior officer appeared, noted our names and let us through. The special envoy was steaming, and I would later hear him report to the Prime Minister. He was shouting so that nobody around could miss a word. There were probably more phone calls that evening, as we received an apology the next morning and even the glasses were brought back. But it was not a good sign. For me, however, it had been an unforgettable experience. It was also my 22nd wedding anniversary! The agreement was turned into an official document. The first version covered two pages, but that was too long. One of the parties insisted that it should be on one page: “If one page is covered by another, there might also be other hidden pages.” The computer provided the technological ability to adjust the margins and font size, but some lengthy sections still had to be deleted. The government wanted the emblem of PNG to be on the document. I worried what the BRA would say, but the response was: “That is fine, it means the government has to implement it if it is on PNG letterhead.” The agreement was completed, the commanders signed and Kauona spent some time walking around to his troops to explain what was now expected of them.

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The impact of the cease-fire was immediate. Even before it was in place, the soldiers in the roadblocks began to relax. One told me that he now wished to go home as soon as possible: “We have no business here, they are very different from us, why should we be here?” The market opened up. Youngsters began to play football on the beautiful beaches that previously had stood empty. War and the fear of war have tremendous psychological impacts on all concerned. It is not a natural state of affairs for human life.

31.7

Exit of a Third Party

A day after the cease-fire I went back to Sweden. The government and the BRA expected me to return when negotiations on the real issues were to start. However, on the eve of my departure, an envoy from New Zealand came up to me in the bar of the hotel in Port Moresby. He said that the PNG security services were looking for me and that there were grumblings among the military about the cease-fire. It was probably wise for me to leave the scene, he indicated. He certainly was well informed. Also, he was to play a crucial role some seven years later. I was not too worried, however, as I had the support of the Prime Minister. But soon some unexpected events happened. The PNG forces suddenly withdrew from Bougainville, before the international observers had arrived. Some remaining issues, notably on the stationing of PNG police on the island, had not yet been worked out. Deliberately, the head of the PNG military forces created a new situation. By mid-March the troops were assembled outside Port Moresby. There was considerable irritation among them about the withdrawal. After some drinking an unorganized military group set out towards the residence of the Prime Minister. They wanted to ‘talk’ to him or, possibly, arrest him. Was it a military coup? It is hard to know. The responsible officer resigned the following day but, as is often the case in PNG politics, returned to power a year later, openly proclaiming his opposition to the 1990 cease-fire agreement. The international inspectors noted that the Bougainville cease-fire had been implemented by the parties, although its report also remarked on the premature departure of the PNG forces. A strange situation now prevailed on the island. Instead of tension as a result of armed action, there rapidly developed a void of any authority at all. This was not what the peacemaking had been all about. Furthermore, the government was unclear how it should proceed. The problems with its own military were one part of it. Presumably there were also issues within the coalition and with parliamentarians. I was constantly adjusting my reservation for a return flight. But I was only asked to wait for the right moment. It never came. BRA also felt that the situation was unclear. Why was the government stalling the start of the talks? Was it planning some drastic move? Increasingly concerned, but also realizing that the withdrawal of the PNG forces had provided it with an unprecedented opportunity, it moved. On May 17, 1990, it proclaimed the independence of Bougainville, formed a coalition ‘government’ of its own and broke

31.7

Exit of a Third Party

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into the sealed storages to retrieve its weapons. The conflict took an entirely new turn. The government responded by cutting off all transportation, trade and interactions with the island, in fact, imposing its own sanctions and isolating Bougainville. No country ever recognized the new state. Smugglers appeared, coming to the islands, for instance, from the nearby Solomon Islands. The isolation created hardships on the islands. Particularly devastating was the lack of medical supplies. Gradually the conflict returned to armed action, with the government landing troops and supporting splinter groups. There were repeated attempts to restart negotiations, but really significant efforts were only those that New Zealand organized in 1997 and led to the peace agreement in 2001. A basic trait of the agreement was a referendum on regional autonomy, within a 10–15 year timespan.

31.8

Lessons for Mediation

In retrospect, one might say that the opportunity for negotiations was ‘ripe’ in January and February 1990. The government had tried a military solution without success; the rebels had lost and were pushed back, but they were not defeated. It dawned on the opponents that the armed confrontation could go on for a long time. So there was an interest in negotiations. However, there were many similar situations in the following years which did not lead to negotiations. Furthermore, the think-tank that took the initiative started its work because the situation was deteriorating and it wanted to do something about it. It saw how the society around it was beginning to fall apart. It established the necessary relations, but without regard to the ‘ripeness’ of the situation. The Prime Minister’s perspective was probably similar. Thus, the offer of a third party action provided an opportunity to pursue a different course of action, for a time. For the members of the think-tank it was close to an existential issue to stop the war, for the government it was one of its options. The failure of this first peace effort also had a price. Many of the members of the think-tank had to leave the island. Graeme Kemelfield brought his family to Australia, where he died some years later. He had tried to avert the danger, but the conflict unleashed a dynamic he could not withstand. It was symbolic that the only car that could pass the battle lines was torched and burned. The Prime Minister also had to leave office, but short tenures were the rule in PNG politics. Thus, from this experience it is hard to say that a particular ‘hurting stalemate’ either produces peace initiatives or is a necessary precondition for them (see the works of Zartman). It is more typical that peace initiatives always are needed, and that it is difficult to determine if the time is ‘ripe.’ It is to the credit of the think-tank that it was persistent and took the initiative. Indeed, the opportunity may not have arisen, had SIDA not been willing to support the endeavor. Furthermore, in conflicts many issues are obscure and many actions difficult to understand, no less to control. As a third party I had some insight into the interactions between the two sides, but it was hard to know what was going on within

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each. For the different sides, their internal dynamics were probably highly significant. The Prime Minister had to keep his cabinet intact and survive challenges in the Parliament. He also had to deal with a host of other pressing government matters. The relations between Sam Kauona and Francis Ona were elusive, not to say mysterious. The Prime Minister had a diverse coalition to manage, but the BRA also had many and undefined tensions: Some wanted independence, others not; some wanted the mine to start, others not; some may have been in the war for family honor; others for loot and personal gain. Leaders on both sides feared being undermined by opposition from within. These are dynamics into which the outside third party enters: peace proposals, actions, and statements are evaluated by different factions in their particular light. But the third party is not likely to have access to these deliberations. Both sides prefer to present a unified position to the outsider and to the opponent. The reality may never be entirely clear to any of those involved. What matters are the decisions that can be derived from the messiness of the situation. On March 1, 1990, there was agreement on some measures with clear real world implications. In 1997 another truce was concluded. It still took another four years to advance from that shared decision to a peace agreement. In the February 1990 discussions the idea was to couple the cease-fire to a sustained peace process. There was agreement on this. But that could not be written into the cease-fire document. It dealt strictly with the conditions for ending hostilities. This fact may have indicated that there was opposition to a continuation of peacemaking within either or both sides. It was defended, however, with the argument that this was not a ‘political’ document, only a military one, and thus to be signed by the military commanders, not the political leaders. It was presented as a technical document which, of course, it was not. It meant that the two sides at least identified whom they were fighting and that they thought it would be possible to discuss issues with the other. It was a most public process. To me, it is obvious that the agreement carried the support of the population at large on Bougainville. There was joy about the end of fighting. However, there were no spokespersons who pushed for continuation of the process. The think-tank and the North Solomons provincial government did, but there was a lack of popular manifestations. In Port Moresby, there was even less of public support. The conflict seemed only to concern those displaced by the conflict and they were, understandably, hostile to the BRA. The government was more troubled by fiscal implications of the conflict: To sustain a military force in Bougainville was costly and at the same time the copper incomes were lacking. The government had in fact appointed a ‘razor gang’ to make deep cuts in government spending. If the fighting ceased that saved money and as a new mine was about to open up elsewhere in PNG, money would start coming in. Thus, a thorough peace agreement had few supporters in the capital. The peace process was left to a small group of concerned leaders and citizens. It is interesting to observe that by the end of the 1990s the situation had changed, not the least through the emergence of women’s groups that pressed strongly for an end to the conflict. Peace processes without manifest popular support are likely to be more fragile and be more exposed

31.8

Lessons for Mediation

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to the wishes, hopes and even whims of particular decision makers who may act without accountability. This means that individual third parties are not involved in a conflict for a long period of time. They are probably more useful under particular conditions, when there are possibilities of agreement. The very moment the opposing sides agree to receive a third party may be the most optimal one. There is curiosity about what will now happen, the third party may bring in some fresh perspectives and thus bring about some changes in the dynamics. If it is successful, an agreement can be concluded. As time passes, however, conditions also change (new issues, new power constellations, new events on the battlefield, new policies among secondary parties, new economic developments). It is likely that a third party or third parties are most effective if he/she/they can ride on an initial momentum and thus bring about a movement in the conflict in a peaceful direction. After a while, that momentum is likely to be lost, and new injections may be needed. Certainly, this is true, when the third party is derived from small countries, from NGOs, or from universities. The picture may be different if the mediator also has a vested interest in the situation and can bring power to bear. The line between a mediating third party and a self-motivated powerbroker may then be blurred or even eradicated. USA took over a ‘mediating’ role from Norway when the first agreement was signed between Israel and the PLO on the White House lawn in September 1993. The issue of peace became vital foreign policy for the Clinton administration. But that turned into another type of peacemaking than the one that took place on the island of Bougainville in 1990. There are limits to academic diplomacy, but it also has its strengths. Some of those were demonstrated during some hectic weeks in February 1990. Endnote This account is largely based on my own notes, memos and recollections. Considerable information on the background of the conflict was available at the time from many researchers at the University of Papua New Guinea in Port Moresby. They were helpful in briefing me and sharing published and unpublished papers. The entire endeavor benefited from the tireless efforts of the members of the think-tanks members. They have not been consulted for this account. I remain entirely responsible for this text. Many thanks to Bill Montross for repeatedly reading this chapter and contributing to a more precise narrative.

References Aggestam, Karin 1999. Reframing and Resolving Conflict. Israeli-Palestinian Negotiations 1988-1998. Lund University: Lund Political Studies 108. Azar, Edvard E. and John W. Burton (eds) 1986. International Conflict Resolution. Theory and Practice, Wheatsheat. Bercovitch, Jacob (ed) 1996. Resolving International Conflicts: The Theory and Practice of Mediation, Boulder, Co: Lynne Rienner.

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Bercovitch Jacob 1997. Conflict Management and the Oslo Experience: Assessing the Success of Israeli–Palestinian Peacemaking International Negotiation, 2: 217–235, Bildt, Carl 1998. Peace Journey: The Struggle for Peace in Bosnia. Weidenfeld and Nicolson. Boege, Volker 2006. Bougainville and the Discovery of Slowness: An Unhurried Approach to State-Building in the Pacific, The Australian Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies. Occasional Papers Series 2006:3. Carl, Andy and Sr. Lorraine Garasu (eds) 2002. Weaving Consensus: The Papua New Guinea – Bougainville Peace Process. London: Conciliation Resources. Corbin, Jane 1994. Gaza First: The Secret Norway Channel to Peace Between Israel and the PLO. Bloomsbury. Egeland, Jan 2008. A Billion Lives. An Eyewitness Report from the Frontlines of Humanity. HarperCollins. Greig, J. Michael 2001. Moments of Opportunity: Recognizing Conditions of Ripeness for International Mediation between Enduring Rivals, Journal of Conflict Resolution, 45 (6): 691-718 Harbom, Lotta, Stina Högbladh and Peter Wallensteen 2006. Armed Conflict and Peace Agreements. Journal of Peace Research, 43 (5): 617-631. Höglund, Kristine and Isak Svensson 2002. The Peace Process in Sri Lanka, Civil Wars, 5(4): 103-118. Holbrooke, Richard 1999. To End a War. New York: The Modern Library Kelman, Herbert C. 1997. Some Determinants of the Oslo Breakthrough, International Negotiation, 2: 183-194. Makovsky, David 1996. Making Peace with the PLO: The Rabin Government’s Road to the Oslo Accord. Boulder, Co: Westview Press. Mitchell, George J. 1999. Making Peace, New York: Alfred Knopf. Nilsson, Desiree 2006. In the Shadow of Settlement: Multiple Rebel Groups and Precarious Peace. Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research. Nilsson, Desiree 2008. Partial Peace: Rebel Groups Inside and Outside of Civil War Settlements, Journal of Peace Research 45 (4): 479-495. Regan, Anthony J. 2002. The Bougainville political settlement and the prospects for sustainable peace. Pacific Economic Bulletin, 17 (1): May. Rolfe, Jim 2001. Peacekeeping the Pacific Way in Bougainville. International Peacekeeping. 8 (4): 38-55. Savir, Uri 1998. The Process: 1,100 Days that Changed the Middle East. Random House. Stern, Paul and Daniel Druckman 2000 (eds). International Conflict Resolution after the Cold War. National Academies Press. Svensson, Isak 2006. Elusive Peace: A Bargaining Perspective on Mediation in Internal Armed Conflict, Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research. Svensson, Isak 2007. Bias, Bargaining and Peace Brokers: How Rebels Commit to Peace. Journal of Peace Research, 44 (2): 177-194. Touval, Saadia and I. William Zartman (eds.) 1985. International Mediation in Theory and Practice. Boulder, Co: Westview Press Wallensteen, Peter, 2005. Conflict Prevention and the South Pacific, in Henderson, John and G. Watson (eds). Securing a Peaceful Pacific. Canterbury University Press, pp. 33–42. Wallensteen, Peter 2007. Understanding Conflict Resolution. War, Peace and the Global System. Second edition. London: Sage. Zartman, I William and J Lewis Richardson (eds) 1997. Peacemaking in International Conflict: Methods and Techniques, Washington, DC: US Institute of Peace. Zartman, I. William 1997. Explaining Oslo, International Negotiation, 2: 195–215.

Chapter 32

An Experiment in Academic Diplomacy Peter Wallensteen

Abstract This article is a unique account of the efforts in June 1990 to initiate a channel connecting the Palestine Liberation Organization, PLO, with the Israeli government. The first meeting was led by Peter Wallensteen and the Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University. The article explains the meeting in a way that yields lessons for other such attempts.

32.1

The Invitation

On June 27–29, 1990, a group of Israelis and Palestinians met under top-secret circumstances at a remote conference facility outside Stockholm.1 Although planned to be clandestine, it created major headlines in Swedish and international media. In fact, the meeting was part of Swedish “quiet” diplomacy for a peace dialogue in the Middle East. It was probably the first time a Swedish academic department demonstrated its value in a sensitive diplomatic operation. It could have resulted in a sustained peace process, well before the Oslo Process became the designated main track in Israeli-Palestinian diplomacy during the 1990s. This is the first time that this episode is described in English and thus available for a wide audience. It was an experiment on many counts. Could “peace researchers” based in a solid university atmosphere really be useful for peace? Early on in peace research history, Johan Galtung had maintained that possibility, even at times arguing for “peace specialists” in the proximity of government (Galtung 1975 [1967]). Was that just another Utopian idea? The “academic” connotations of a department for peace and

Republished from Wallensteen, Peter 2010. “An Experiment in Academic Diplomacy,” in Johansen, Jørgen. and John Y. Jones (eds) Experiments in Peace: A Book Celebrating Peace at Johan Galtung’s 80th Anniversary, Fahamu Books, pp. 354–364. An earlier version was ‘Seminariet som akademisk diplomati,’ in Falkman, Kaj et al. (ed) 2008. Plikten och äventyret. Upplevelse av diplomati. Stockholm: Carlssons, pp. 247–256. Reproduced with permission. When this account appeared it was the first time this episode was described in English and thus available to a wide audience.

1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2_32

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conflict research made many practitioners uneasy: Was there anything of practical use to come from such endeavors? It was also an experiment for the researchers. Could it really be that they had something to tell people who know their own conflict from the inside out? Was it hubris to be involved? Was it stretching academic insights too far, should researchers really be involved in what might emerge into “cooptation” into political games they would have little chance of mastering? Could academics be of use in diplomacy? And for peace researchers, was there really an option to decline an invitation to contribute to peace, however elusive, in a conflict that not only had an impact on a region but on world affairs, being the world’s most well-known crisis? To me, having received the approach from the Swedish Ministry for Foreign Affairs, there was no option: We simply had to engage in this experiment and try to make sure that it would come out the best, for peace, Swedish diplomacy and academic integrity. Thus, this was a first experiment in academic diplomacy, trying to make the optimal outcome for all three considerations: peace, diplomacy and integrity. The challenge was accepted and this is the story of what happened.

32.2

The Setting

In December 1988, Yassir Arafat, Chairman of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) made a path-breaking statement at a well-attended press conference in Geneva. This followed a turbulent UN General Assembly session. Due to his presence, the entire session had been moved out of New York as he had been refused a visa to visit the United States. Media interest was at its peak, making this Assembly session a significant occasion for a major announcement. The PLO, Mr. Arafat made clear in English, “rejects all forms of terrorism.” That was all; it took only a couple of seconds. A short sentence of historical significance for the conflict between Israel and the Palestinians. Still, it was the result of months of Swedish diplomacy. The statement had been carefully drafted. Once made, direct relations could be established between the US administration and the PLO leadership in Tunis, Tunisia. Within hours, the US responded favorably. In the Swedish strategy for a peaceful, negotiated settlement of the Palestinian question, this was the first step: to create a channel between the USA and the PLO. The issue of terrorism was central: If the general stamp on the PLO for being involved in terrorism could be removed, the US administration was willing to engage. Furthermore, the Swedish government maintained close contacts with Jewish groups in the United States. Being well-represented in Washington and in Israel, such groups were crucial. Also, Swedish foreign policy and social democracy were close to the Israeli Labor Party, a formative force in Israeli society. Thus, a set of interactions had been established where Arafat’s statement was a key element (Palme 1993).

32.2

The Setting

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The breakthrough in Geneva created expectations for a continuation. Indeed, that was a reason for the PLO’s willingness to entertain the idea of a statement. Most problematic was that Israel was led by a Likud government, highly opposed to the idea of meeting or even talking to ‘former’ terrorists. Swedish diplomacy persisted, and that is why, in its plan, a peace research department could be a significant actor. Let me give a bit of the peace research background. In 1985, I was appointed as the first Professor of Peace and Conflict Research at Uppsala University, a chair named after the late Dag Hammarskjöld. Through the Department’s conflict data project which mapped all ongoing conflicts around the world, and through its educational program in conflict resolution which made our work known in the region, I was called in as a third party to a conflict in Bougainville, Papua New Guinea. This resulted in a ceasefire in March 1990 (Wallensteen 2009). To my surprise, it created attention in Sweden, very distant from Bougainville. I was called to meet the Foreign Minister, Sten Andersson. To him and his Middle East team, the Department turned out to be of value. To me it was an experiment that actually consisted of four components: A setting had to be created, composed and conducted and had to develop its own continuity.

32.3

Experiment One: Creating Format

I was approached by leading diplomats of the Middle East team, Mathias Mossberg and Anders Bjurner. Swedish diplomacy hoped to create a link between Palestinians and Israelis on a high level. Clearly, after the breakthrough in Geneva, there was disappointment with the lack of progress. I could surmise that this was also the PLO’s position. Furthermore, Swedish relations with Likud were, to say the least, not intimate. In fact, Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir had been part of the group that assassinated Swedish Count Bernadotte, the UN mediator, in 1948 for the same conflict the world was still facing. However, Foreign Minister Andersson was willing to make an attempt. Our conversations resulted in agreement on an approach where an academic seminar was to be held on the situation in the Middle East with participation from the different sides. Israeli legislation at this time prohibited direct contacts between Israeli citizens and the PLO and, despite Arafat’s actions more than a year before, Israeli law still branded the PLO as a terrorist organization. However, Israel encouraged its citizens to participate in international scientific conferences. Thus, having the Department and Uppsala University as credible organizers of a scientific seminar would make possible Israeli participation. The strength of the Department’s research and its recent diplomatic experience demonstrated that it could perform a competent role in this situation. The Foreign Ministry was willing to undertake the experiment, and so was I, being at the same time the only Professor and the Head of Department. However, to me, it was important that the event be an academic seminar and that participants have academic credentials. This was a necessary element for our

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academic credibility and integrity. The seminar was not to be a public affair, but kept as a low-key, ordinary academic activity. It was also important to have a balanced composition. The seminar, thus, was to include three groups: Palestinians from the occupied territories as well as from the diaspora, including those in Tunisia; Israelis with political as well as academic backgrounds; and a group of ‘neutrals’, that is, Swedish and American academics, including Jewish personalities who had been important for the breakthrough in 1988. From the Department came Ph.D. candidate Kjell-Åke Nordquist, who had been writing on the Middle East. I was the chair of the seminar. There was also a significant issue of the costs. Security provisions and the conference were paid for directly by the Ministry, but all transactions relating to seminar activities and the participants were handled by the Department and by Uppsala University. Certainly, this was based on a grant provided by the Ministry, but invitations, communications and scheduling were done by the University. The participants could demonstrate that they were participating in an academic seminar under the auspices of a leading university. There was, however, one disturbing factor outside the typical academic arrangement: the need for secrecy. There were the security provisions, as the whole event or some of the participants could be targeted for attack. Media attention could either increase expectations or make some participants withdraw. Thus, I could not inform the university leadership too early. Neither my nor Nordquist’s family was informed where we were. In that way, when media learned of the meeting, family members could truthfully say that they did not know. Strangely enough, media never located the conference premises.

32.4

Experiment Two: Finding Balance

Invitations were sent out in May 1990. At the end of the month a strange terror attack was carried out on a beach outside Tel Aviv. It was conducted by an Iraqi-based group, called PLF. Arafat delayed his condemnation. Sweden tried to influence Arafat by sending Mossberg to see him. When Arafat finally released a statement, it was general and bland. The United States was not satisfied. The USA wanted clear proof that the PLO really had rescinded terrorism and violence against Israel. PLF was part of the PLO and Arafat’s vagueness led President George Bush (Sr.) to break off contacts with the PLO on June 20, just a week before our seminar! The Swedish initiative found itself in a political twilight zone: If the US did not have contacts, why would Israel? Fortuitously, many of those invited did not reason that way. Rather, they reversed the argument: It was now even more important for a space to connect. This contributed to making the seminar a particular surprise, as President Bush was thought to have stopped all contacts. On June 27, participants arrived at the Arlanda airport and were brought to the conference center. The seminar started immediately in the afternoon. On arrival, the atmosphere was tense. The most acute problems rested with the Israelis. Upon his departure from Israel, Knesset member Dedi Zucker had told media that he was

32.4

Experiment Two: Finding Balance

619

going to a seminar where Palestinians would also be present and that this was legal since it was in an academic setting. A spokesperson for the Israeli Embassy in Stockholm commented that his assertion would have to be assessed after the event. Thus, there were real uncertainties as to what would happen to the Israelis when they returned home, something which initially affected their posture. Other Israelis at the meeting were General Avraham Tamir, Ari Rath, the former editor-in-chief of the Jerusalem Post, and Professor Yohanan Peres from Tel Aviv University. All were at some risk but, at the same time, they were sufficiently prominent to be able to count on support from groups back home. But the uncertainty added to the tension in the seminar. The Palestinian side was in a happier mood. This was an important event to them. Many had been at official or private meetings in Europe but those were often arranged by various solidarity movements. This was a seminar on a high level at a crucial time. Two Professors were among the Palestinians: Hanan Ashrawi and Sari Nusseibeh, both from the Bir Zeit University in Ramallah. The group also included Faisal Husseini (from a legendary Palestinian family) and Ziad Abu Ziad. Two persons were, so to say, official representatives of the PLO: Afif Safieh and Nabil Sha’ath. The ‘neutrals’ consisted of Kjell-Åke Nordquist, Americans Drora Kass and Stanley Sheinbaum, and me. The Swedish diplomats kept a low profile and were not seated around the table but in the back of the conference room. Thus, the composition of the meeting was balanced and had a clear academic profile. The delegates displayed strong intellectual capacities, spoke good English and had considerable polemical capabilities, something the Chair was to experience several times during the deliberations.

32.5

Experiment Three: Focusing Discussions

A number of special measures were instituted to ensure that the Israeli participants would not have problems with the authorities on their return. All delegates had assigned seats at the table. No Israeli was placed next to someone connected to the PLO office in Tunis or in any other way being an official representative of the PLO. To avoid the creation of camps, all participants were seated in alphabetical order, as far as it was possible. The idea was that the seminar would lead to an open discussion among all participants, not a negotiation between two ‘sides.’ The ‘neutral’ participants were distributed strategically so as to make the mix complete. Being chair, I declared that everybody was present in a private capacity and that nobody could be quoted outside the conference without permission. I emphasized that this was an academic seminar, which meant that the right to try ideas freely and to exchange proposals without necessarily being tied to them was both cherished and protected. The purpose of the seminar was to present possible visions for a solution to the Palestinian conflict and suggest concrete steps for the immediate future. A particular instruction was that participants not address themselves directly or explicitly to the PLO. Again, this was a measure to protect the Israeli

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participants. If someone wanted to convey a message to the PLO, the person was to address the chair. This instruction had the effect of making everyone quiet each time an Israeli participant said “Mr. Chairman”, as it might imply a message to the PLO! To improve the atmosphere and create some personal connections, I suggested that the participants not introduce themselves but rather their neighbor to the left: “The solution is about getting to know your neighbor.” This message created some confusion in a group of strong personalities accustomed to presenting themselves eloquently. However, they followed the instructions, which resulted in intensive discussions from the outset of the meeting. Some were more ambitious than others and carefully noted personal facts about their neighbor, which they could spring on the audience when their turn came up. In fact, the presentations came to include surprising information and led to a lot of laughter around the table. General Tamir sat next to Faisal Husseini. I cannot recall how this happened, as it broke the alphabetical order. Husseini was not a member of the PLO so there was no potential legal problem on that account. The two talked intensively and for a long time. Faisal had already been in Israeli prisons 27 times and had used the time to learn Hebrew. Tamir, customarily called ‘Avracha,’ was very engaged in their dialogue. Instead of introducing his neighbor, he made a short, memorable statement, which now can be quoted: “I took part in the planning of the occupation of the West Bank in 1967. I remember why we were doing this: to exchange land for peace. I do not understand why we don’t do that.” With military precision he had identified the central question and opened it up for discussion. One of the key contributions was by political scientist Yohanan Peres. He had investigated changes in public opinion in Israel during the Intifada. The Palestinian uprising had started in December 1988 and surprised both Israel and the PLO in Tunis. In graphs and tables Peres demonstrated that the largely peaceful revolt had strongly affected opinion in a direction where Palestinians were seen as a national grouping and someone to negotiate with. His presentation gave rise to a host of comments. The other Israelis concurred in his conclusions. The Intifada had given Palestinians a new identity in the eyes of Israelis. They were no longer seen as either weak and subdued or highly dangerous airplane hijackers. To several Palestinian participants this was hopeful. They previously thought the Intifada had achieved nothing, particularly as the links to the US had just been suspended. The impact of the Intifada, several of the delegates suggested, was that the ‘demonization’ of Palestinians had given way. Palestinians were seen more as ‘ordinary human beings.’ This turned into one of the strongest experiences during the seminar. To maintain such a more nuanced Israeli view of Palestinians, many felt, would be important for peace negotiations. The data also suggested that the Israeli public distinguished between Palestinians on the West Bank and those in Tunis. It was interesting to see that this difference also appeared during the seminar. Those who had daily encounters with the Israeli occupation had different experiences of Israel. They were more knowledgeable about the Israeli political landscape and were not dismissive of differences between Israeli political parties. They could see divergences on the opposite side and understood the value of it from their point of view.

32.5

Experiment Three: Focusing Discussions

621

However, the seminar also made clear that there were limits. Palestinian demands that peace-oriented Israelis reject soldiers serving in the occupied areas received strong protests. “This is interference in our internal affairs!” one Israeli shouted. “If you come with such demands, we have no chance to carry them out, but if we raise them by ourselves they have a greater chance” said another, once the situation had calmed down. There were political dynamics on each side that the outsiders had to understand in order to avoid hurting the prospects for peace. Swedish Foreign Minister Sten Andersson visited the seminar in the evenings. What was discussed, I do not know. There were long, nightly calls with Tunis, where the PLO leadership was informed on our deliberations. Was this possibly the beginning of a “Stockholm channel” directly connecting Israeli citizens and Palestinian citizens, without US involvement? The boat excursion that was arranged in the beautiful Swedish summer night gave additional space for confidential conversations. In fact, few participants seemed to notice the spectacular archipelago they travelled through! The seminar ended with a white board full of ideas on ways forward. Economic visions played a major role. The idea was that economic integration would yield benefits not the least to the Israeli side, and thus make it more willing to accept a two-state solution. The costs of occupation would be replaced by the gains of economic cooperation. The income gap between the two populations would be reduced and so would political tensions. Thus, the seminar discussed the opening of transportation routes, harbors, airports, shared free trade zones, etc. At the core was a mutual recognition of Israel’s existence and the Palestinian people as legitimate parties. The Intifada appeared to have created a basis for mutual acceptance. The Palestinians were prouder and Israelis were less comfortable in their role as occupiers. The enthusiasm at the end of the seminar was remarkable and contrasted dramatically with the initial hesitations. There were expectations of additional meetings. Many issues had been discussed, which was important in itself, but no solutions had been worked out. Confidence had been created and telephone numbers exchanged.

32.6

Experiment Four: Keeping Momentum

During the month of July we learned how the participants were in touch with each other and how the circles of involved people had widened. There seemed to be a momentum. The Israelis were exposed to questioning by the police on their return, but nobody faced legal consequences. The political situation in Israel remained a stalemate. The government was dissolved, but the Labor Party could not form a government on its own. Iraq’s occupation of Kuwait in August 1990 was a political disaster for continued contacts. Kuwait was integrated into Iraq and Saddam Hussein declared that this was the beginning of the liberation of Palestine. To the consternation of many seminar participants, young Palestinians were celebrating. Many of the young

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seemed to miss the lack of logic or the danger in Saddam’s action. The Iraqi leader not only had acted like Israel, but also gone one step further by annexing the territory of another country. How could this be described as the beginning of the liberation of Palestine? The PLO found itself in a political dilemma. Arafat spent considerable time in Baghdad. He was obviously close to Saddam and seems to have believed in Saddam’s interest in a negotiated solution to the Kuwait crisis. The PLO decided to remain ‘neutral’ in the conflict. As most of the Arab world was against Iraq, the PLO found itself in a small pro-Iraqi camp. It lost support, economically as well as politically. The PLO was weakened by its own actions. The negative image of Palestinians prospered in Israeli public opinion. A new wave of ‘demonization’ gripped the Israelis. Young Palestinians celebrating when Iraqi missiles hit Israeli cities in 1991 contributed to the picture. The PLO lost its space for negotiations, its options shrinking. However, the American-Soviet conference that was convened in Madrid in 1991 had an impact. Many of those who had been at the academic seminar now appeared as articulate spokespersons. Hanan Ashrawi and Faisal Husseini were part of a Jordanian-Palestinian delegation and could give media a new picture of responsible and responsive Palestinians. There was a de-demonization among international and American media, if not among the Israeli public. The Swedish efforts may have helped to convey such a more nuanced picture to some American decision-makers. The change of government in Sweden in September 1991, secret meetings in Oslo from late 1992 and the first agreement between Israel and the PLO in September 1993 changed the dynamics of the conflict. There was no direct follow-up from the academic seminar even if there were initiatives and attempts. The Oslo Process turned into the main track for peace in the Middle East for the remainder of the 1990s.

32.7

Learning Lessons

There were many lessons for academic diplomacy. The seminar proved to be a useful umbrella for direct talks. It served as a way to enhance confidence among the parties. It gave a chance for free and safe interaction. This is a lasting positive experience. In fact, the Oslo Process also used an academic setting for its initial efforts, ostensibly as part of an academic project on living conditions on the West Bank. However, for a protracted conflict with many interlocking and interblocking interests, academic input is not sufficient. There also has to be an interest among the major actors to move in the same direction. Mediators cannot get warring parties to make concessions beyond their own set of parameters. The mediator, as well as the academic seminar, can shed new light on known situations. Comparisons with other peace processes can stimulate the primary actors to think differently. In the end, however, they are the ones that have to bear the responsibility for making peace.

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Learning Lessons

623

The academic seminar as well as the Oslo Process began at an appropriate moment. There was a window of opportunity created by the first Intifada. The second Intifada that broke out in October 2000 did not have the same impact as its less violent predecessor. The second Intifada was more bloody and more polarizing. It actually divided the Palestinians more than the Israelis. The Israeli wall separated Palestinian areas, made negotiations more complicated and resulted in greater hopelessness on the Palestinian side. The elections of 2006 were carried out in a remarkably democratic fashion under conditions of occupation, but the results provided further complications. Hamas had been outside all peace processes during the 1990s. Its short-lived Palestinian government in 2006 found itself in the same situation as the PLO before 1988. It had to respond to the same questions that the PLO struggled with twenty years earlier. Hamas today is in the same unsatisfactory position of vague statements that previously were the hallmark of the PLO. Even controlling Gaza has not given Hamas an easier relationship, neither with the PLO nor with Israel. Furthermore, the Oslo Process did not involve Hamas and was, in fact, conducted along almost entirely secular lines. The outcomes were difficult to explain to rabbis, clergy and imams. Such a primarily secular approach may not be possible today. Even if the issues remain the same, the rise of religious political actors on both sides makes them different. Framing has changed, and the peace process has to be pursued in a different way. This experiment in academic diplomacy yielded many lessons, and also brought the Department of Peace and Conflict Research at Uppsala University into a new reality. It became involved in a number of peacemaking efforts during the following years. Thus, its brand of peace research also became peace action, where academic insights proved to be useful for decision-makers, whether in government or in non-governmental organizations. The experiment combined peace, diplomacy and integrity. Indeed, the academic integrity was intact and was a basis for the entire experiment. It was not eroded, rather it was strengthened. Diplomacy was difficult, but the academics could do well on that score as well. However, academics cannot be full-time diplomats. Peace was more elusive. It is in the hands of the primary parties, who are likely to pursue more narrow concerns: their own power, prestige and personal survival. Peace is a ‘good’ but not always the only ‘good’ that will rally all parties to do their utmost to resolve a conflict. But without determined action there will be no solution. Instead, there will be many losers. The people who have ended up in refugee camps, who have lost their loved ones, their homes, their sources of income, or their dignity. The academic seminar can – and should – help to redress some of these losses, but the ultimate power lies elsewhere. However, academics cannot – and should not – say ‘no’ when an opportunity emerges to try to do something that may improve the chances of peace for all.

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References Galtung, Johan “Peace Research: Science, or Politics in Disguise.” In Galtung, Johan (ed) Peace: Research. Education. Action. Essays in Peace Research, Vol. I. 224-43. Copenhagen: Christian Ejlers 1975. Originally published in International Spectator XXI, 1967. Palme, Susanne Tyst Diplomati [Quiet Diplomacy]. Södertälje: Norstedts Förlag AB, 1993. Wallensteen, Peter “The Strengths and Limits of Academic Diplomacy: The Case of Bougainville.” In Diplomacy in Theory and Practice. Essays in Honor of Christer Jönsson edited by Karin Aggestam and Magnus Jernek, 258-281. Malmö: Liber 2009, included as Chapter 31 in this volume.

Index

A Abiy Ahmed Ali (Ethiopia), 440 Abkhazia (Georgia), 233, 280 Academic diplomacy, 15, 599, 600, 602, 613, 616, 622, 623 Academic freedom, 24, 70, 74, 359, 368 Aceh (Indonesia), 170 Actors (in conflict), 81, 83, 94–98, 164, 187, 190, 207, 210, 218, 231, 254, 264, 266 Addams, Jane, 493 Afghanistan, 171, 174, 200, 249, 257, 258, 261, 266, 276, 278, 282, 316, 357, 361, 368, 370, 377, 382, 414, 424, 427, 428, 440 Africa, 6, 92, 152, 168, 213, 242, 259–261, 276–278, 282, 298, 308, 340, 346, 351, 362, 382, 385, 396, 408, 430, 440, 496, 508, 557, 564, 566, 570, 574, 576 African Union, 140, 196, 234, 257, 259, 277, 362, 382 Agenda diplomacy, 336, 338, 341 Agenda setting, 215, 338, 341, 342 Aggression, 116, 272, 323, 338, 385 Aggressor, 194, 385 Agreement diplomacy, 336, 338, 341, 342, 352 Agriculture, 146, 419, 505, 513, 514, 518, 519, 525, 556, 562, 582, 584 Ahtisaari, Martti, 182, 201 Air force, 19, 394, 537, 538 Ake, Claude, 20 Åland Islands, 8, 17, 25, 95, 169, 192, 194, 204, 214, 234, 270, 307, 313, 318, 339, 358, 371, 374, 419, 440, 450, 496, 521, 556, 577, 579

Åland Islands (Finland), 447–450, 604, 606, 629 Al-Assad, Bashar (Syria), 263 Albania, 120, 125, 127, 129, 130, 133, 136, 137, 574 Albright, Madeleine (USA), 496 Al-Fatah (Palestine), 440 Algeria, 265, 274, 342 Alker, Hayward, 21 Allardt, Erik, xvi Allende, Salvador (Chile), 528–530 Alliances, 9, 91, 144, 258, 307, 308, 311, 312, 407, 422, 439, 444, 457, 506, 527 Al-Qaeda, 171, 174, 276, 278, 428 Alsace, 578 Alsace-Lorraine, 444 Amazon River, 570 Amer, Ramses, 241, 451 Amnesty (in peace agreements), 362 Amnesty International, 362, 564, 601 Anarchy, 288 Andersson, Sten (Sweden), 617, 621 Angola, 146, 148, 152, 156, 157, 159, 377, 382, 388, 422, 427, 478 Annan, Kofi, 21, 22, 195, 376, 476 Annan, Nane, 21 Annan Plan (for Cyprus), 362 Ann Arbor, Michigan (US), 4, 20 Anstee, Margaret, 477, 479 Antarctic, 570 Anthropology, 27, 82 Anti-Communism, 91 Appeasement, 314 Appleby, R. Scott, 25

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 P. Wallensteen, Peter Wallensteen: A Pioneer in Making Peace Researchable, Pioneers in Arts, Humanities, Science, Engineering, Practice 30, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-62848-2

625

626 Arab, Arabic, 79, 130, 249, 256, 258, 259, 263, 265, 308, 428, 440, 459, 498 Arabic, Language, Culture, 20 Arab-Israel conflict, 273, 572 Arab Spring (2011), 255, 499 Arab World, 325, 471, 622 Arafat, Yassir (PLO), 616–618, 622 Aranki, Adele, 15 Arctic, Arctic Council, 257, 570 Argentina, 197, 324, 418, 528, 579–582, 589, 590 Arias, Oscar (Costa Rica), 263 Arizona, US, 576, 577, 588 Armed conflict, definition, data, 15, 20, 26, 81, 97, 98, 163–165, 167–175, 179, 189, 195, 201, 202, 205, 209, 210, 212, 213, 224, 229, 231, 233, 234, 239, 258, 260, 267, 270, 271, 276, 277, 281, 323, 325–330, 335, 339, 356, 358, 360, 361, 376–378, 380–382, 388–391, 393, 395, 397, 410, 414, 422, 423, 425, 428, 440, 442, 446, 450, 471, 498, 500, 572 Armenia, 195, 274 Arms control, 87, 88, 90, 230, 233, 490 Arms embargo, 17, 97, 116, 140, 149, 153, 155, 157, 160, 173, 174, 376, 386–389, 394, 396, 397 Arms race, 8, 70, 74, 86–88, 309, 316, 407, 485, 487, 489 Arms transfer, trade, 174, 386 Army, 19, 289, 347, 348, 537, 538, 541 Article 99 (UN Charter), 341 Arvidsjaur, Sweden, 537, 540–542, 545–547 ASEAN, 234, 257, 259, 265, 366, 374, 440 Ashrawi, Hanan (Palestine), 619, 622 Asia, 92, 148, 213, 242, 250, 258, 260, 261, 278, 340, 382, 452, 570, 574, 576 Asset freeze, 146, 148, 156 Aswan Dam, Egypt, 582 Aung San Suu-kyi (Myanmar), 366 Australia, 25, 242, 260, 424, 512, 515, 601, 606, 607, 611 Austria, 256, 297, 313, 407, 574 Austria-Hungary, 297, 444 Authoritarian, 94, 152, 196, 200, 350, 387, 425, 447, 453–455, 460, 500 Autonomy as a solution to conflict, 9, 606 Autonomy for researchers, 76 Azerbaijan, 195, 196, 274, 459 B Bachelor of Arts, BA, B.A., x, xvii, 13, 14, 99 Baghdad, Iraq, 622 Bahrain, 258

Index Balkans, The, 260, 383, 408, 439, 440, 447 Bangladesh, 422, 424, 476, 479, 511, 527, 574, 584–587, 591, 592 Bank, banking, 17, 147, 150, 154, 160, 584 Base-closing, xxii, xxxiv, 535–551, 537 Bashir, Omar al- (Sudan), 93, 184 Basque (Spain), 170, 450 Battle-related death, 271, 274, 326–328, 377, 391, 397 Baudouin, King (Belgium), 351 Bay of Aden, 425 Bay of Bengal, 585 Bebr, Gerhard, 256 Beijing, China, 343, 350, 351, 475 Beijing Declaration, 475, 495 Beirut, Lebanon, 346, 351, 364 Belarus, 233, 394 Belgium, 265, 343, 350, 443, 450 Ben Gurion, David, 346 Benin, 556, 557, 559 Bercovitch, Jacob, 25, 210, 212–216, 221, 222, 600 Berlin, Germany, 91, 119, 256, 348 Berlin Congress, 308 Bernadotte, Count Folke (Sweden), 19, 617 Besigye, Kizza (Uganda), 358 Biafra, Nigeria, 118–119 Bias (in mediation), 217–220 Biersteker, Tom, 114, 167 Bin Laden, Osama, 157, 174 Bipolarization, 305 Bir Zeit University, 619 Bismarck, Otto von, 291, 304, 315, 317 Bizerte, Tunisia, 343, 345 Bjurner, Anders, 234, 257, 617 Black Lives Matter, 72 Blondel, Ylva, 476 Blue Nile, 582, 583 Bohr, Nils, 108 Bokhari, Ahmed, 351 Bolivia, 117, 422, 528, 579 Bonn, Germany, 88 Border (between states), 288, 294, 443, 566 Border fences, walls, 443 Boserup, Anders, xiv Bosnia-Herzegovina, 362, 365, 367, 368, 377, 382, 434 Bosniak, 383, 408 Botswana, 422, 574 Bougainville (Papua New Guinea), 15, 606, 608, 610, 617 Bourdieu, Pierre, xiv Boutros-Ghali, Boutros (UN, Egypt), 241, 263, 418–420, 584

Index Brahimi, Lakhtar, 200, 201 Brahmaputra River, 585 Brandt, Willy (Germany), 445 Brazil, 245, 246, 260, 418, 528, 574, 579–582, 587, 589 Breach of the peace, 272, 323 Brexit, 439 Brisbane, Australia, 25 Britain, see UK, 72 Brosché, Johan, 442 Brownell, Jr., Herbert (US), 577 Brown University, USA, 17 Brussels, Belgium, 18, 187 Brzoska, Michael, 97, 386, 387, 389 Buddhism, Buddhist, 569 Budgetary support, 358, 368, 371 Buffer zone, 307, 311, 312, 443 Bunch, Ralph (UN), 337 Burkina Faso, 392, 395 Burman, Lars, 24 Burma, see Myanmar Burundi, 187, 198, 262, 264, 369, 377, 382, 384, 385, 408, 431, 471, 582 Bush, George Sr. (USA), 618 Bush, George W. (USA), 323 Business, 12, 83, 155, 161, 229, 288, 467, 602, 610 Butz, Earl (USA), 505 Buzan, Barry, 94, 255 C Caltex, 528, 529 Cambodia, 15, 222, 249, 342, 377, 450, 451, 454, 455, 463, 465, 466, 469, 470 Cameroon, 556, 557, 559, 564 Canada, 243, 328, 345, 457, 512, 515, 577, 605 Canberra, Australia, 607 Capitulation, 230, 307, 385, 411, 510 Carbon dioxide, 70 Carter, Jimmy, 23, 186, 201 Carter Center, 15 Catalonia (Spain), 450 Caucasus, 94, 260, 441, 446 Causes of war, 72, 81, 82, 84–87, 89, 96, 100, 223 Cease-fire, 182, 185, 194, 195, 198, 204, 221, 233, 261, 325, 393, 396, 458, 605–610, 612 Central America, 94, 263, 264, 301, 422, 427, 471, 576 Central Asia, 94, 261, 422, 446 Central Europe, 307, 443, 446, 447, 457, 489, 500 Central-local contradictions, 539, 540, 550

627 Chad, 276, 277, 556, 594 Chamberlain, Neville (UK), 230 Chamber of Commerce, 229 Changkufeng War, 307 Chapter VI (UN Charter), 271–275, 281, 282, 360, 479 Chapter VII (UN Charter), 139, 146, 240, 247, 250, 272–278, 281, 282, 323, 360, 479 Chapter VIII (UN Charter), 254, 256, 257, 263 Chauvinism, 309, 311 Chechnya (Russia), 169, 275, 277, 278, 282, 327 Chemical weapons, 195, 233 Chilalo Agricultural Development Unit (CADU), Ethiopia, 17 Chile, 197, 528 Chiluba, Frederick (Zambia), 366 China, People’s Republic, 377 Chou En-Lai (China), 346 Christchurch, New Zealand, 25 Christian, 392, 523, 569 Church of Sweden, Lutheran, 10 Citizen, 69, 80, 97, 149, 173, 289, 372, 391, 602, 608, 612, 617, 621 Civilian, 80, 81, 87, 88, 93, 94, 184, 191, 194, 195, 198, 258, 326, 328, 329, 347, 377–382, 384, 385, 388, 393, 397, 443, 476, 478, 480, 490, 494, 539, 543, 545, 549, 565 Civil society, 10, 17, 93, 95, 97, 183, 190, 200–202, 204, 219, 255, 262, 266, 357, 359, 363, 368, 374, 464, 466–468, 470, 479, 496, 499, 501 Civil war, 26, 70, 81, 83, 142, 152, 157, 160, 173, 190, 212–215, 218, 232, 262, 289, 323, 345, 358, 361, 364, 372, 376–379, 385, 388, 389, 398, 414, 454, 459, 463–465, 469, 496, 497, 499, 500, 563, 606 Clark, Helen (New Zealand), 23 Clausewitz, Carl von, 325, 426 Clements, Kevin, 25 Climate, climate change, 4, 8, 67, 70, 72, 90, 250, 275, 278, 351, 570 Clinton, Bill (USA), 186, 479, 613 Clinton, Hillary (USA), 475, 496 Coalition, 172, 220, 329, 330, 338, 339, 342, 345, 349, 352, 361, 367, 470, 528, 537, 559, 595, 601, 605, 610, 612 Coexistence, 309, 311, 454, 455 Cold War, 81, 83, 88–91, 94, 100, 165, 170, 171, 206, 213, 214, 221, 231, 239, 249, 255–257, 261, 266, 270, 278, 330, 335, 340, 342, 343, 345, 348, 356, 360, 369,

628 373, 375, 407, 408, 417–420, 424, 427, 431, 455, 456, 460, 488, 496, 536, 596 Collective good, 289 Collier, Paul, 96, 356, 391–393, 433–435 Colombia, 25, 258, 275 Colonialism, 81, 557 Colonization, 308, 314 Colorado River, 576, 577, 579, 588 Commission, European Union, 18 Commitment problem, 216, 218 Common security, 302 Commonwealth Heads of Governments Meeting (CHOGM), 586 Commonwealth, The, 240, 371, 607 Communal violence, 324, 329 Communism, Communist, 123, 294, 297, 337, 417, 447–449, 455, 460, 488, 524, 529, 545 Compaoré, Blaise (Burkina Faso), 395 Comprehensive Peace Agreement (Sudan), 186, 189, 232, 496 Comprehensive sanctions, 17, 18, 140, 149, 159, 165, 167, 385, 386 Compromise, 68, 91, 138, 139, 192, 339, 455, 457, 484, 541, 591 Concert of Europe, 303, 306, 309, 317, 318 Confidence-building, 88, 90, 100, 191, 307, 338, 433, 457, 460 Confidential, mediation, 192 Conflict behavior, definition, 559, 563 Conflict complex, 439, 440 Conflict data, 15, 20, 164, 168, 212, 439, 600, 617 Conflict, definition, 20, 321, 326, 328 Conflict diplomacy, 259, 336, 337, 340 Conflict prevention, 14, 19, 95, 96, 100, 175, 229, 257, 260, 262, 356, 360, 374, 383, 384, 421, 426 Congo, Democratic Republic, 156–160, 171, 172, 174, 262, 277, 382, 384, 388 Congo River, 573 Constitution, 6, 243, 246, 260, 315, 356, 358, 360, 362, 364, 392, 449, 455, 468, 602 Constructive relations, 304-305, 311, 317, 407–408, 414, 420 Consumers, 6, 507, 508, 524, 527, 532, 582 Containment, 90, 134, 521, 524, 528 Contradiction, concept, 200, 295, 298–300, 309, 311, 316, 518, 535–536, 538, 544–545, 557–558 Contras (Nicaragua), 606 Copenhagen, Denmark, 67, 69, 417 Copper (mineral), 557, 600–602, 604, 607, 612 Cordovez, Diego, 186

Index Core area, 294 Core (states), 294 Corn Laws (Britain), 310 Coronel-Ferrer, Miriam, 176, 496 Corporations, 295, 516, 518, 535, 600 Correlates of War (COW) project, 4, 67, 85, 211, 296, 298, 306 Corruption, 366, 414, 470 Cortright, David, 25, 93 Costa Rica, 422, 515 Côte d’Ivoire, 146, 148, 149, 157, 158, 160, 257, 275, 277, 376, 382, 384, 385, 388, 390–398, 428 Counter-terrorism, 142, 233 Covid-19, 72, 439 Crime, 324, 467, 469, 494 Crimean War, 315 Crimea (Ukraine), 233 Criminology, 142 Crisis management, 169, 211, 339, 373 Croatia, 365, 382, 383 Crocker, Chester, 197, 216, 219 Cuba, 91, 116, 120, 125, 127–130, 132, 133, 137, 340, 348, 528, 530 Culture, cultural, 5, 19, 23, 71, 79, 90, 107, 185, 263, 326, 327, 345, 434, 455, 475, 499, 575 Customs Union, 310 Cyprus, 15, 96, 256, 280, 450, 605 Czechoslovakia, 230, 309, 444, 447, 449 D Dagestan (Russia), 169 Dag Hammarskjöld Chair, 11, 20, 23, 26 Dag Hammarskjöld Foundation, 14, 22 Dag Hammarskjöld Lecture, x, 22, 23 Dahlén Olle (Sweden), vii Dahlgren, Hans (Sweden), 17 Dahomey, 556, 557 Danube River, 575 Darby, John, 25, 231 Darfur (Sudan), 187, 388 Davenport, Christian, 25, 377 Dayton Accords, 434 Deadly quarrels, 84 Decentralization, 602 Decolonization, 93, 170, 308, 315, 316, 342, 361, 367 Defeat, 89, 251, 291, 295, 296, 315, 317, 318, 342, 366, 441, 544 Defense, 90, 93, 97, 154, 159, 167, 214, 242, 260, 263, 288, 393, 417, 486, 491, 510, 518, 536–539, 542–545, 547, 550 Defense history, 19

Index De Gaulle, Charles (France), 348 Delisting (from sanctions), 141, 146 Demand (for products), 508 Demilitarization, 419, 442, 604 Democracy, 18, 66, 89, 91, 94, 99, 196, 251, 260, 355–363, 367, 368, 372–374, 379, 414, 423, 432, 433, 441–443, 445, 447–450, 460, 488, 496, 499, 604, 616 Democracy promotion, 357, 360, 362, 363, 368, 374 Democratic peace, 100, 442, 443, 448, 453, 456, 460 Democratization, 171, 251, 356, 357, 359, 360, 362, 363, 367, 369, 371, 373, 374, 446, 447, 449, 499 Denmark, 313, 407, 417, 425, 450, 605 Department of Peace and Conflict Research, 4, 11, 12, 23, 65, 66, 82, 475, 476, 600, 623 Department of Peace and Development Research, 72 Department of Political Science, 4, 67 DeRouen, Karl, 25, 212–215, 380 De Soto, Alvaro (UN), 198, 418, 419 Destructive behavior, 325, 328, 560 Détente, 90, 301, 303, 309, 310, 315–318, 408, 445, 456 Deutsch, Karl W., 89 Development assistance, 356, 359, 360, 368 Development studies (Uppsala University), 8, 9 Development theory, 92 Diamonds, 140, 145, 157, 372, 386 Dictator, 120 Diehl, Paul, 86, 213, 214, 219, 221 Dignity, human, 19, 411, 445, 450, 459, 500 Diplomacy, 189, 197, 199, 205, 206, 208, 216, 232, 233, 257, 261, 265, 272, 335–337, 339–347, 350–353, 367, 382, 387, 409, 479, 599, 601, 615–617, 623 Diplomatic recognition, 369, 459 Disarmaments, experiences, lessons, 486, 535, 547, 549 Disaster, 95, 98, 105, 291, 355, 390, 440, 500, 501, 555, 556, 560, 565–567, 621 Discrimination, social, ethnic, racial, 71, 72, 123 Displaced (population), 391 Disraeli, 337 Diversity, 219, 249, 424, 464, 465, 499 Division of labor, 72–74, 180 Doleeb, Afaf, 24 Donor, 76, 356–359, 361, 363, 367–369, 371, 374, 434

629 Downstream (in river), 595 Drought, 556, 559–561, 564–566, 583 Druckman, Daniel, 25, 224, 600 Drugs, drug trafficking, 577 Dublin, Ireland, 593 Due process, 330 Dunant, Henri, 80 E Earth, Planet, 569 Earthquake, 321, 556 East Asia, 257, 259–261, 299, 337, 408, 422, 437, 438, 440–442, 450, 452–455, 458–460, 471 East Asian Peace project (EAP), 440 East Europe, 446, 447 Easterly, William, 433 Eastern Europe, 94, 242, 248–250, 296, 301, 337, 408, 438, 441, 444, 445, 447, 448, 489, 511, 512 East Germany, 441, 459 East Timor, 15, 367 Ebola, 174 Eckert, Sue, 41, 164 Ecology, 109 Economic crisis, 296, 314 Economic, economy, 3, 8, 14, 17, 26, 66, 72, 77, 82, 88–90, 92, 94, 96, 107, 115–135, 137–140, 143, 146, 153, 154, 159, 161, 165–167, 196, 210, 230, 240, 243–245, 251, 259, 264–267, 272, 277, 289, 290, 292, 296, 302, 304, 306, 307, 310, 311, 313, 314, 326, 347, 348, 351, 358, 362, 364, 367, 368, 372, 384–387, 389, 391–393, 395, 414, 416, 417, 419, 430, 433–435, 439, 441, 443, 445, 447, 449, 543, 454, 463, 464, 466–470, 476, 484–486, 495, 505–510, 512–515, 516, 518, 520–523, 528–530, 532, 533, 535, 536–539, 541, 542, 545, 547–549, 554–560, 564–566, 576–579, 583, 587, 588, 601, 613, 621 Economic growth, 430, 433, 466–468, 514, 536, 548 Economic integration, 419, 441, 449, 621 Economics (as discipline), 27 Ecuador, 258 Egeland, Jan, 181, 600 Egypt, 232, 265, 343, 499, 573, 582–584, 586, 587, 590, 591 Einstein, Albert, 87 Ekopolitik, 293 ElBaradei, Mohamed, 23

630 Elections, fairness, 359 Eliasson, Jan, vii, x, xi, 14, 21, 179–198, 200, 201, 217, 368 Elisabethville, Congo, 346 El Salvador, 198, 418, 419, 463, 465–467, 469, 470 Embargo, 117, 161, 310, 387, 394, 397, 517 Emergency, state of, 603 Enköping (Sweden), 540–544, 546, 547 Ennals, Martin, 601 Epidemic, 321, 556 Equality, 75, 124, 196, 499, 500 Eriksson, Mikael, 17, 232, 255 Eritrea, 147, 170, 172, 173, 261, 272, 273, 276, 388, 389, 414, 415, 428, 440, 582 Esso (today Exxon), 528, 529 Ethics, for researchers, 69 Ethics of research, 106 Ethnic cleansing, 95, 194, 324, 329, 377, 383, 388, 392, 444, 601 Ethnic groups, 95, 258 EU External Action Service (EEAS), 234, 257, 496 Euphrates River, 569, 575 Euro-Asia, 439, 446 Euro-centric system, 299 Euro-communism, 456 European Union (EU), 86, 149, 240, 257, 357, 366, 382, 408, 412, 425, 438, 445, 449, 496 Exclusive (mediation), 188, 204 Exile, 130, 153, 154, 288 Exit, 208, 368, 428, 599 Expansionism, 295, 323 Export, 117, 372, 392, 430, 509, 513–519, 524–526, 531, 557 Extermination, 7, 329 F Faculty Board, Uppsala University, 9, 11 Falkland Islands (UK), 324 Falk, Richard, 21 FAO, 556, 594 Färö Islands (Denmark), 450 Farakka Barrage (Ganges), 585, 591 Farmer, 9, 82, 511, 521, 523, 577, 600 Fear, 77, 81, 87, 89, 90, 149, 170, 251, 256, 269, 290, 295, 307, 315, 317, 326, 327, 341, 358, 371, 383, 408, 410, 412, 417, 432, 443, 449, 454, 481, 487, 491, 538, 543, 549, 574, 577, 582, 591, 604, 605, 610 Feminism, 83, 93, 494 Fifth Republic (France), 449

Index Fihn, Beatrice (ICAN), 23, 493 Financial assets, 17, 141, 160, 372 Financial crisis (2008), 255 Financial sanctions, 153, 155, 157, 165 Finland, 23, 67, 75, 234, 450, 469, 604 Flanders, Belgium, 450 Focus, in mediation, 179, 188, 193, 204, 207, 212, 217, 220, 224, 232, 234 Folke Bernadotte Academy, 19 Food aid, 518, 520–524, 527–530, 554 Food export, 525, 526, 567 Food for oil (Iraq), 386 Food power, 506, 509, 516, 521, 531–533 Food scarcity, 555 Football, 6, 324, 610 Forcing (mediation), 191, 215, 217 Fostering (mediation), 191, 215 France, 119, 173, 230, 231, 233, 240, 243, 247, 248, 265, 269, 277, 279, 297, 298, 304, 307, 308, 313, 315, 339, 342, 343, 345, 348, 352, 384, 393, 394, 396, 397, 407, 441, 444, 448, 449, 512, 554, 578, 579, 587 Freedom, 493 Freedom fighters, 323 Free trade, 310, 311, 439, 621 Frelimo (Mozambique), 471 Fresh Water, 570–573, 575, 576, 578 Fretilin (Timor Leste), x Fundamentalism, 316 G G-20, 254 G-7, 243 G-8, 254 Gadaffi, Muammar (Libya), 428 Galtung, Johan, xiv, 6, 10, 11, 21, 66, 71, 81–83, 89, 90, 92, 93, 116, 122, 130, 417, 418, 421, 422, 425, 615 Gambia, 574 Gandhi, Indira (India), 496 Gandhi, Mahatma, 93 Ganges River, 569, 575, 576, 584–587, 591, 592 Gangster, 561 Gantzel, Klaus Jürgen, 85 Garden of Eden, 569 Gaza (Palestine), 232, 273, 340, 384, 623 Gbagbo, Laurent (Cote d’Ivoire), 392, 395 Gbowee, Leymah, 23 Gender, 66, 72, 97, 353, 411, 412, 475, 476, 478, 479, 481, 496, 497, 499, 500 Gender equality, 97, 475, 481, 494, 495, 497–501

Index Gender Inequality Index (GII), 498 Generation, generational, 68, 74, 78, 107, 323, 413, 470 Geneva, Switzerland, 154, 192, 485, 616, 617 Geneva Talks (Georgia), 233 Genocide, 71, 81, 93, 95, 194, 262, 321, 324, 329, 374–382, 384–391, 393, 395–398, 422, 425, 430 Geography (as discipline), 293 Geopolitik, 291, 293, 294, 296, 297, 307, 312, 442, 444 Geo-referencing (data), 16 Georgia, 15, 96, 233, 240, 280–282, 459 Germany, Democratic Republic, East (DDR), 459 Germany, Nazi, Hitlerite, 106, 230, 323, 356, 444, 573 Germany, West, Federal Republic, 356 Germany, Wilhelminian, 573 Ghana, 155, 262, 265, 394, 605, 606 Gibler, Douglas, 442, 443, 447 Gilman, Charlotte Perkins, 493, 494 Gleditsch, Nils Petter, 15, 448 Global South, 14, 92, 232, 440 Global system, 296, 299, 302, 306 Global war on terror, 323 Goa, India, 118 Goldmann, Kjell, xvii Gold (mineral), 602 Good governance, 356, 359, 360, 368 Google Maps, 16 Gorbachev, Mikhail, 490 Goulart, Joao (Brazil), 528 Governance, 19, 76, 86, 96, 221, 265, 355–357, 367, 369, 395, 409, 411, 414, 415, 423, 424, 433, 446–449, 453–460, 464, 465, 467, 469, 470 Government (incompatibility), 325, 442, 563 Grain, 310, 509, 511–513, 515–518, 520, 521, 523, 524, 529, 531, 532 Grain power, 510, 516, 521, 524, 530–532 Grazing, 329 Great Depression, 310, 355, 417 Great Lakes (Africa), 262, 263 Great Patriotic War, 322 Greece, 422, 449 Greenland (Denmark), 450 Grenada, 607 Grusell, Helena, 139 Guatemala, 14, 339, 341, 345, 348, 377, 515, 528 Guinea-Bissau, 393, 394 Guinea (Conakry), 348 Gujarat, India, 329

631 Gulf War, 388, 414, 571 Gurr, Ted R., 21, 90, 377 Guterres, Antonio, 22 H Hague, The, 366, 428 Hahn, Otto, 108 Haiti, 171, 172, 222, 276, 278, 357, 368 Halonen, Tarja (Finland), 23 Hamas (Palestine), 440, 623 Hamburg, Germany, 85 Hammarskjöld, Dag, 7, 10, 80, 244, 279, 335–337, 339–353, 376, 476, 617 Hammarström, Mats, 12 Hamrell, Sven, 6 Harff, Barbara, 21, 377, 380 Hariri, Rafik, 147, 174, 364, 370 Hariri, Saad, 364 Head of Department, 11, 16, 19, 617 Health, 19, 72, 75, 554 Heartland, 293, 294 Hebrew, 620 Hegre, Håvard, 26, 356 Heidelberg, Germany, 93 Heimer, Gun, 73 Heldt, Birger, 20, 217 Helsinki, Finland, 445, 457 Helsinki Final Act, 445 Hettne, Björn, 10, 71, 94, 255, 259 Hindu, 569 Hippocratic oath, 106 Hiroshima, Japan, 70, 71, 83, 87, 100, 108 Hitler, Adolf (Germany), 89, 230, 291, 305, 309, 355, 444, 469 Hizbollah, 364 Hjelm-Wallén, Lena (Sweden), 11 Hobbes, Thomas, 79, 426 Hoffman, Fredrik, 123 Hoffmann, Stanley, 302 Högbladh, Stina, 431 Holbrooke, Richard (USA), 186, 197, 600 Holmdahl, Martin, xi, 24 Holm, Hans Henrik, xiv Holocaust, The, 7, 71, 329, 376 Homicide, 289 Honorary Doctor, 11, 21 Honorary Doctor (Uppsala University), 11 Horn of Africa, 261, 265, 422, 440 Human development, 499 Human development report, 498 Human dignity, 19, 411, 445, 450, 459, 500 Humanitarian aid, consequences, interest, support, 167, 210, 341, 372, 522 Humanitarian Dialogue, Center for, 193

632 Humanpolitik, 293 Human rights, 17, 18, 24, 70, 97, 107, 140, 141, 145, 148, 196, 200, 223, 250, 357–359, 362, 371, 374, 419, 426, 428, 445, 446, 450, 455–457, 460, 475, 496, 497, 500, 595, 605 Human Rights Council (UN), 374 Human Rights Watch, 192, 362 Human security, 15 Human Security project, xvii Humiliate, humiliation, 329 Hungary, 7, 339, 341, 345, 346, 348, 447, 450, 460, 574 Husseini, Faisal (Palestine), 619, 620, 622 Hussein, Saddam (Iraq), 153, 157, 170, 323, 388, 428, 621 Hutu (Rwanda), 171, 408 Hveem, Helge, 507, 508 Hyderabad, India, 118 Hydropolitics, 583, 586 Hydro-power, 582, 590 I Ibrahim, Mo (Sudan), 366 Idealpolitik, 293, 294, 295, 296, 299, 307, 309, 312, 316, 441, 453, 479 Immigration, 443, 500, 577 Imperialism, 71, 92, 528 Implementation diplomacy, 336, 338, 339, 343, 344, 352, 353 Implementation (of agreement), 25, 190, 336, 341, 353, 360, 367, 409, 410, 431, 464, 579, 594 Implementation (of sanctions), 17, 141, 166 Import, 117, 154, 161, 396, 506, 508, 509, 512, 513, 515, 516, 526, 528, 531 Inclusive (mediation), 189, 200 Independence, 6, 16, 26, 77, 85, 90, 92, 95, 96, 124, 217, 244, 288, 290, 291, 308, 313, 317, 349, 359, 364, 367, 371, 385, 424, 444, 446, 459, 508, 509, 515, 516, 531, 582, 585, 602, 604–606, 610, 612 India, 14, 79, 93, 169, 245, 246, 261, 274, 325, 414, 430, 486, 497, 526–529, 572, 574, 584–586, 591, 593 Indian Ocean, 224, 257, 425 Indochina, 94, 261, 298, 340, 422, 427, 450, 454 Indonesia, 170, 265, 377, 424, 526–528, 530, 572 Indus River, 569, 575 Inequality, 72, 82, 497–499 Innovation, 80, 82, 93, 294, 342, 374, 489

Index Insecurity, 81, 110, 326, 410, 411, 423, 432, 434, 438, 446, 455, 487 Institute of World Order, New York, 302 Integrated rural development, 17 Inter-Governmental Authority on Development (IGAD), 232, 261, 265 Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), 19, 70 International Alert, 362, 601 International Campaign Against Nuclear Weapons (ICAN), 23, 493 International community, 95, 150, 153, 154, 158, 160, 179, 180, 185–187, 189, 195, 199, 232, 234, 241, 257, 273, 336–338, 341, 352, 355–358, 360, 363, 366, 368, 369, 371, 373, 374, 376, 378, 381, 382, 384, 385, 390, 397, 410, 420, 426, 427, 429, 430, 433, 434, 479, 495, 496, 532, 575 International Court of Justice (ICJ), 451 International Criminal Court (ICC), 153, 156, 159, 184, 194, 253, 428, 467 International Crisis Group (ICG), 362, 394 International Governmental Organization (IGO), 214, 359, 378, 381–385, 397, 398, 563 International law (discipline, establish law), 593 International Law Association, 593 International non-governmental organization, 187 International Panel on Social Progress (IPSP), 19 International Peace Research Association (IPRA), 13 International politics/relations (discipline), 484 International Studies Association (ISA), 13, 448 International training programs, 13 Inter-state conflicts, 330 Intervention, military, 92, 352, 357, 370, 380, 381, 563, 566 Inter-war period, 134, 137, 138 Intifada, 620, 621, 623 Intra-state conflict, 85, 95, 96, 322, 330, 420 Invasion, 93, 96, 98, 278, 307, 309, 316, 322, 340, 341, 343, 348, 447, 451, 454, 542 Iran, 93, 118, 119, 147, 151, 152, 157, 159, 160, 188, 192, 195, 196, 198, 230, 263, 274, 316, 377, 427, 452, 496, 571 Iran-Iraq War, 182–185, 187, 191, 192, 194, 195, 571, 572

Index Iraq, 17, 98, 140, 167, 169, 170, 172, 188, 192–196, 198, 200, 276, 278, 282, 323, 329, 370, 372, 377, 385, 388, 424, 427, 428, 459, 571, 574, 621 Ireland, 593 Iron and steel, 298, 299 Islam, Islamic, 316, 569, 584 IS, ISIL, ISIS, 428, 440, 459, 499 Israel, 118, 124–127, 129–133, 137, 170, 263, 274, 279, 343, 364, 440, 459, 526, 527, 574, 613, 616–618, 620–623 Italy, 89, 116, 119, 123, 125, 127, 129, 131–134, 137, 138, 230, 243, 245, 297, 298, 385, 441, 448, 554 Ivorité, 392 J Jerusalem, 619 Jerusalem Post, 619 Jew, Jewish, 7, 329, 616, 618 Joenniemi, Pertti, xiv Johansen, Robert, 25 Johnson Sirleaf, Ellen (Liberia), 158, 496 Johnsson-Latham, Gerd, 479 Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA) (Iran), 496 Jonglei Canal, Sudan, 583 Jordan, 575 Jordan River, 575 Joshi, Madhav, 25, 231, 430, 465, 496 Journalism, 564 Journal of Conflict Resolution (JCR), 73, 89 Journal of Peace Research (JPR), 15, 26, 67, 73, 89, 110 Judiciary, 359, 419 Juliot-Curie, Frederic, 108 Justice, 81, 82, 95, 111, 174, 194, 195, 200, 207, 221, 326, 419, 464, 467, 468, 554 K Kant, Immanuel, 80, 85 Kapitalpolitik, 292, 294–299, 307, 309, 312, 316, 441 Kapungu, Leonard, 476, 477 Karadzic, Radovan, 197 Karman, Tawakkol, 23 Kashmir, 261, 275 Kass, Drora, 619 Katanga (Congo), 343, 346, 351 Kaunda, Kenneth (Zambia), 366 Kauona, Sam (Papua New Guinea), 604, 608, 612 Kautilya, 79, 325 Kavanagh, Paul (UN), 192

633 Kekkonen, Urho (Finland), xvi Kemelfield, Graeme, 599, 601, 603, 611 Kende, Istvan, 85 Kennedy, John F. (USA), 121 Kenya, 366, 467, 582 Keough School of Global Affairs, 76 Kessel, Paul, 23 Khaldun, Ibn, 23, 79, 325 Khmer Rouge (Cambodia), 454 Khrushchev, Nikita, 7, 137, 316, 349 King, Angela, 476 Kissinger, Henry, 186 Kjellén, Rudolf, 291 Kneese, Allen V., 576, 577, 579 Knesset (Israel), 618 Koran, The, 569 Korea, 261, 266, 408, 520, 527, 605 Korean, 20, 440, 454 Korea, North, 147, 151, 152, 157, 159, 160, 272, 273, 454, 455, 458, 459 Korean War, 571 Korea, South, 337, 454, 455, 526, 527 Kosovo, 172, 182, 233, 257, 365, 377, 383, 446, 459 Koivisto, Mauno (Finland), xiv Kroc Institute, University of Notre Dame, 4, 17, 25, 76 Kurd, Kurdish, 388, 574 Kurile Islands, 456 Kuwait, 194, 323, 459, 621, 622 L Labor Party (Israel), 616, 621 Lake Nasser, 583 Land-for-peace, 620 Land reform, 17 Land tenure, 17 Laos, 339, 342, 345, 347, 349, 351, 528, 574 Latin America, 424, 528, 529, 587 Law and order, 289, 500 Law of the Sea, 452 Leader, role of, 433 League of Arab States (LAS), 263, 265 League of Nations, 85, 245, 261, 303, 309, 317, 385, 444, 445, 606 Lebanon, 174, 278, 339, 346–348, 364, 367, 368, 370, 373, 374 Lederach, John Paul, 218, 421, 422 Legitimacy (of governance, of state), 289, 292 Leverage, in mediation, 214–217 Liberalism, 432 Liberal, liberals, 10, 26, 84, 259, 430, 448, 455 Liberations movements, 315 Liberation war, 323

634 Liberia, 144–148, 151–159, 170, 174, 275, 277, 282, 367, 372–374, 385, 388, 393, 422, 430, 496 Libya, 169–174, 232, 257, 258, 280, 428 Life and Peace Institute, vii Likud party (Israel), 617 Lindh, Anna (Sweden), 32, 384 Lindgren, Göran, 218 Linnaeus, Carl, 21 Listing (for sanctions), 141 Lithuania, 604 Lloyd George, 337 Local ownership, 363 Local perspectives (v national), 551 Lockerbie (UK), 173 Löfven, Stefan (Sweden), 497 Lopes, Liana, 13 Lopez, George, 25, 386 Louis Philippe, King (France), 314 LTTE, see Tamil Tigers Lublin, Poland, 7 Lumumba, Patrice, 344 Lutheran, 10 Luxembourg, 578 M Macedonia, see North Macedonia Mac Ginty, Roger, 465, 469, 470 Machiavelli, Niccolo, 23, 79 Mack, Andrew, 15 Madrid, Spain, 56, 181, 622 Majdanek, Poland, 7 Major power, xxi, 27, 56, 57, 87–89, 92, 94, 139, 175, 186, 214, 216, 219, 220, 222, 230–235, 245, 249, 255–257, 266, 290, 295, 297–299, 301–313, 315–319*, 330, 339, 342–344, 350, 352, 357, 382, 389, 396, 398, 414, 420, 427, 430, 443, 448, 452, 456, 464, 483, 486, 487, 573 Malaysia, 14, 25, 265, 528, 530 Male, males, xiv, 497 Mali, 169, 256, 276, 277, 392, 394, 556, 559 Malta, 371 Malvinas, The (Argentina), 324 Mandate (for mediation), 179, 180, 182, 183, 188, 202, 203, 208, 223, 234 Mannerheim, Gustaf (Finland), xviii Mannheim, Karl, xiv Market, 134, 161, 329, 387, 430, 433, 507, 509–512, 515–518, 520–525, 527–530, 532, 538, 610 Marx, Karl, 325 Marxism, 92

Index Masculinity, 481, 499, 500 Massacre, 6, 324, 377, 380, 385 Masters program, M.A., 24, 99 Mau-Mau rebellion (Kenya), 468 Mauretania, 561 Media, 10, 12, 16, 19, 91, 93, 106, 145, 182, 192, 193, 198–200, 206, 231, 324, 328, 338, 341, 350, 352, 356, 359, 360, 363, 365, 368, 375, 380, 396, 397, 489, 563, 564, 602, 615, 616, 618, 622 Media, social, 71, 497 Mediation data, research, 211, 224 Mediation, definition, viii, x, xi, xvi, xxi, xxxiii, xxxiv, 14, 25, 31, 32, 95, 96, 98, 149, 171, 179–224, 229–234, 254, 259, 264, 272, 275, 367, 370, 440, 599, 560, 607, 611 Mediation, Friends of, 234 Mediation Support Unit (UN), 186, 229, 234, 257 Mediator, 19, 179–208, 214–220, 222–224, 231–233, 257, 262, 263, 380, 394, 419, 497, 613, 617, 622 Medvedev, Dmitry (Russia), 456 Meir, Golda (Israel), 496 Mekong River, 570 Melander, Erik, 25, 97, 212–214, 224, 377, 379–382, 397, 498, 499 Mental health, 67 Mercosur, 257 Merkel, Angela (Germany), 233, 496 Messianism, 307, 309, 311 Method, in mediation, 179 Method, in research, 83 Methodology, in sciences, xvi, 49, 389, 499, 557 Metternich, Klemens von, 304, 313, 337 Mexico, 515, 576–578, 587, 588 Middle East, 87, 94, 181, 213, 219, 232, 263, 274, 282, 298, 339, 346–348, 351, 370, 382, 422, 440, 459, 460, 486, 572, 575, 615, 617, 618, 622 Militarized Interstate Disputes (MIDs), 212 Military aid, assistance, link, xiv, xxii, 88–90, 92–94, 97, 105, 108–110, 115–117, 119, 123, 132, 133, 135–138, 158, 167, 184, 191, 196, 211, 213, 216, 222, 223, 230, 232, 240, 241, 243–245, 256, 257, 261, 265, 281, 288–296, 298, 299, 306–309, 311, 324, 327, 329, 342, 345, 347, 352, 357, 358, 364, 366, 368–370, 380, 381, 388, 390, 393–396, 414, 415, 422, 426, 429, 432, 441, 443, 444, 446,

Index 449, 452, 453, 456, 457, 460, 465, 477, 480, 485, 486, 490, 496, 497, 499, 505, 510, 521, 525, 527, 561, 563, 601, 610 Military coup, takeover, 422 Military expenditure, 89, 243, 298, 308, 485, 490, 535, 536, 548 Military regime, 94, 366 Millennium Development Goals, 486 Milosevic, Slobodan (Yugoslavia), 365, 366 Mindanao (Philippines), 496 Mining, 600, 604, 605, 607, 609 Minsk (Belarus), ix, 233 Ministry for Foreign Affairs, Sweden, 17–19, 478, 616 Minority, 6, 242, 247, 345, 428 Missiles, 161, 305, 489, 490, 622 Missionary elements, 448 Mitchell, George, 196, 197, 201, 214, 600 Mobile phone, 608 Mode, in mediation, 192 Model farmer, 17 Mogherini, Federica (EU), 496 Moi, Daniel arap (Kenya), 366 Moldova, 169 Money laundering, 17 Montenegro, 173 Moral, 80, 84, 91, 108, 153, 194, 195, 292, 326, 484, 486, 487, 489, 510, 560 Moscow, Russia, 327 Mossberg, Mathias, 617, 618 Mount Meru, 569 Mubarak, Hosni (Egypt), 583, 584 Multiethnic, 362 Munich, Germany, 89, 230, 231 Museum, 7, 19 Museveni, Yoweri (Uganda), 358, 368, 369, 371 Muslim, 383, 392 Myanmar, 93, 169, 196, 274, 280, 282, 366, 367 Myrdal, Alva, xxii, 67, 74, 483–491, 493 Myrdal, Gunnar, xxii, xxxiii N Nagasaki, Japan, 70, 87, 108 Nagorno-Karabakh (Caucasus), 15, 169, 181, 185, 186, 189, 191, 195, 198, 220, 260, 274 Namaliu, Rabbie (Papua New Guinea), 601 Namibia, 361, 475, 478, 479, 481 Napoleon, Napoleonic, 84, 85, 116, 295, 303, 313, 315

635 Napoleon III, Emperor (France), 309 Narrow mediation, 90, 175, 182, 185, 193, 194, 200, 207, 348, 416, 523, 623 Nassau, Bahamas, 607 Nasser, Gamal Abdel (Egypt), 346, 347, 683 Nathan, Laurie, 25 National Dialogue Quartet (Tunisia), 23 Nationalism, 130, 299, 309, 443, 494 National League for Democracy (Myanmar), 366 National Minorities (OSCE), 181, 199, 257, 261 National Museum, 19 Native Americans, 5 Natural boundaries, 291 Natural disaster, 224, 321 Natural science(s), 82, 105 Navigation, 578, 580 Nazi, Nazism, 7, 8, 106, 230, 323, 355, 417, 444, 447 Ndola, Northern Rhodesia, Zambia, x, 10, 351 Negative peace, 410 Negotiations, 74, 87, 95–98, 120, 134, 137, 142, 143, 146, 157–160, 165, 171, 183, 184, 187, 190–200, 202, 206, 208, 211, 219, 221, 223, 230, 232–234, 272, 335, 338, 341, 343, 345, 346, 351, 353, 359, 367, 382, 384, 386, 393, 395, 396, 409, 427, 431, 451, 453, 457, 466, 467, 476, 484, 485, 487, 488, 522, 535, 577, 578, 580, 586–588, 591, 601, 606, 609–611, 619, 620, 622, 623 Nehru, Jawaharlal, 345, 347 Neighbor, 95, 96, 134, 189, 203, 204, 232, 258, 294, 326, 330, 336, 361, 375, 389, 396, 408, 423, 424, 439, 443, 445, 449, 456, 524, 553, 572, 573, 578, 584, 585, 620 Nelson, Keith, 25, 528 Neo-Marxism, 83, 92 Nepal, 274, 585, 592 Netherlands, The, 173, 265, 372, 578, 579, 588 Neutrality, 217, 307, 536 New York, USA, 18, 154, 329, 343, 346, 351, 375, 489, 573, 616 New Zealand, 23, 25, 242, 512, 515, 610, 611 Nicaragua, 366, 515, 606 Niger, 169, 394, 556, 557, 559 Nigeria, 20, 153, 154, 243, 245, 246, 262, 265, 274, 329, 372, 377, 394 Nile River, 582, 584, 591 Nilsson, Desireée, 22, 496, 600 Nimeiry, Jaafar (Sudan), 583

636 Nincic, Miroslav, 89 Nixon, Richard, 128, 310, 577 Nobel, Alfred, 23, 493 Nobel Peace Prize, 23, 87, 263, 366, 440, 490, 493, 496 Nobel Prize, 23 No-fly zone (Iraq), 388 Non-aligned movement, 259 Non-governmental, 95, 117, 192, 203, 219, 319, 330, 356, 359, 362, 365, 467, 561, 566, 602, 623 Non-proliferation of nuclear weapons, 147, 156, 233, 266, 458 Non-state conflict, violence, 224, 330 Non-state actor, 164, 170, 171, 190, 258, 264, 323, 328, 329 Non-violent, 26, 93, 224, 313, 447, 489, 564 Nordberg, Olle, 23 Nordic Africa Institute, 6, 20 Nordic cooperation, countries, region, 6, 65, 67, 91, 232, 408, 425, 437, 458 Nordic peace research conference, 10, 13 Nordic system, xv, 38 Nordquist, Kjell-Åke, 12, 15, 618, 619 Normandy format, 233 Norrman-Hedenmark, Anna, 12 Norm, norms, normative, 27, 68, 71, 74, 80, 93, 119, 123, 135, 234, 235, 258, 291, 376, 409, 430, 479, 497, 499, 500, 563, 580, 595 North Atlantic, 456 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), 95, 196, 240, 256–259, 263, 280, 308, 362, 384 Northern Ireland, 196, 197, 323, 450, 463, 465, 466, 468–470 North Macedonia, 446 Norway, 8, 66, 67, 181, 199, 425, 605, 613 Nuclear age, 294, 308 Nuclear war, 10, 70, 81, 106, 315, 317, 425, 489 Nuclear weapons, 67, 87, 88, 110, 171, 233, 273, 315, 414, 457, 458, 460, 483–487, 489, 490, 493 Nuia, Leo (Papua New Guinea), 608, 609 Nuremburg, 106 Nusseibeh, Sari (Palestine), 619 O Öberg, Magnus, 97, 212–214, 383 Observers, 154, 282, 342, 364, 390, 392, 408, 413, 500, 520, 560, 606, 609, 610 Occupation, 8, 81, 195, 416, 459, 562, 620, 621, 623

Index Ogden, Daniel, 23 Ohlson, Thomas, 12 Ohrid Peace Agreement, 384 Oil, 140, 249, 316, 505, 529, 572, 577 Olsson, Louise, 22, 97, 476, 496 Ombudsman, ombudsperson, 18, 141, 148 Ona, Francis (Papua New Guinea), 612 One-sided violence, 19, 258, 329, 330, 382, 391 Open mediation, 192, 198 Operation Barbarossa, 322 Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), 180, 181, 196, 199, 233, 257, 260, 362 Ortega, Daniel (Nicaragua), 366 Oslo, Norway, 66 Oslo Process (Israel-Palestine), 615 Ouagadougou (Burkina Faso), 395 Ould-Abdallah, Ahmedou (UN), 187 Ouattara, Allasane (Côte d’Ivoire), 391, 392 P PACS, viii, xxxv, 14, 15, 20, 239 Pakistan, 156, 261, 274, 275, 351, 377, 414, 424, 486, 526–528, 585 Palestine, 15, 19, 266, 440, 459, 600, 622 Palme Commission, 302 Palme, Olof (Sweden), xi, 179, 186–187, 191–195 Panama, 240, 357, 370 Pandemic, 66, 72 Panel of Experts (sanctions), 147, 148, 154, 158 Panel of the Wise (AU), 234 Pankhurst, Emmeline, 494 Papua New Guinea (PNG), 599, 601–613 Paraguay, 117, 574, 579–581, 587, 589 Para-military, 329 Paraná River, 579–581, 589, 592 Paris, France, 308, 393 Paris, Roland, 96, 356, 432 Participation, 17, 18, 119, 120, 202, 233, 266, 289, 359, 363, 459, 467, 480, 494, 495, 565, 607, 617 Particularism, 302–313, 315–317 Partition (of countries), 572 Party (in conflict), 214, 217, 264, 335, 337, 601 Peace Accords Matrix (PAM), 25, 49, 431, 464, 470 Peace agreement, 25, 94–96, 143, 157, 159, 173, 175, 183, 194, 202, 213, 221, 223, 231, 330, 335, 353, 356, 362, 364, 365, 367, 393, 394, 396, 398, 407, 409, 410, 412, 414–416, 419, 421, 426, 427, 429,

Index 431, 438, 440, 463–465, 467, 469, 470, 478, 496, 600, 611, 612 Peace and conflict, 4, 10–12, 67, 72, 99, 415, 616 Peace and Conflict Studies (PACS), 14, 15, 20 Peace and development, 72, 76, 82 Peacebuilding, 4, 19, 95–97, 99, 153, 165, 174, 175, 254, 261, 275, 282, 356, 368, 370, 375, 376, 408–422, 424–435, 438, 442, 461, 463, 497 Peacebuilding Commission, 276, 368, 374, 420, 421 Peace, concepts, narrow, open, 409, 413 Peacekeeping, 19, 95, 97, 149, 185, 203, 210, 223, 234, 242, 243, 254, 264, 330, 341, 343, 347, 348, 357, 361, 362, 364, 367, 374, 376–382, 389, 393–398, 417, 418, 465, 466, 475, 476, 478, 480, 481, 496 Peacemaking, 14, 200, 207, 209, 215, 218, 254, 257, 260, 262–266, 270, 275, 330, 336, 356, 364, 365, 384, 385, 397, 415, 417, 418, 427, 431, 450, 479, 481, 494, 600, 610, 612, 613, 623 Peace process, 15, 25, 82, 94, 96, 97, 146, 157, 171, 173, 175, 181, 183, 189–191, 194, 197, 199, 202, 206, 218, 224, 231, 232, 262, 265, 336, 369, 394–397, 410, 464, 467, 468, 470, 471, 475, 480, 495, 496, 600, 605, 606, 612, 615, 622, 623 Peace Researchers, 3, 19, 21, 25, 26, 66, 68, 74, 82, 83, 85, 88, 90, 91, 97–99, 417, 615 Peace Research Institute, Oslo (PRIO), 6, 8, 11, 19, 26, 46, 53, 66, 75 Peace Science Society, 66, 410 Peace specialist, 90, 615 Pearl Harbor (USA), 322 Penang, Malaysia, 14, 25 Peres, Yohanan (Israel), 619, 620 Perez de Cuellar, Javier, 263, 337 Periphery (in system), 557 Pershing II missile, 489 Pertoft, Jekaterina, 27 Pettersson, Therese, 224, 229, 232 Ph.D. program, 8, 11, 12, 17, 20, 25, 26, 75, 78, 618 Philippines, The, 265, 274, 496, 527 Philosophy Tea, 23 Pierce, Karen (UK), 238 Pirates, 425 PL 480 (Public Law, US food aid), 518–521, 523, 524 Poland, 7, 322, 407, 444, 447, 449, 450, 460, 520, 532, 566

637 Polarization, 89, 119, 134, 249, 337, 358, 383, 392, 449, 527, 531 Police, police reforms, 71, 257, 394, 419, 496, 535, 562, 564, 610, 621 Political science, 6, 8–10, 26, 27, 75, 97, 126, 288, 324 Pollution, 575, 578, 579, 588, 595, 604 Polyarchic, 124, 126, 131, 288 Population, growth, 511, 512, 531, 583, 584, 586, 592 Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea, 601, 602, 605, 608, 610, 612, 613 Portugal, 119, 124, 125, 127, 129–133, 137, 449, 527, 574 Positive peace, 81, 409 Post-Cold War period, 94, 98, 100, 257, 260, 327, 330, 337, 430, 438, 448, 467 Postwar period, 134, 409, 410, 413, 438 Poverty, 72, 324, 414, 467, 486, 521, 524, 527, 602 Prespa Agreement, 446 Prevention, of conflict, of war, 14, 19, 95, 96, 100, 174, 175, 257, 262, 356, 360, 374, 383, 384, 408, 421, 425, 429 Preventive diplomacy, 96, 254, 338, 348, 376, 381, 383, 385, 390, 393–395, 397, 418 Princeton University, 19, 143 PRIO, xxxv, 8, 11, 26, 66, 67, 71, 72, 75, 115, 582 Prisoners-of-war, 191 Promotor, promotion, 11, 352, 356, 357, 367, 368, 455 Protection (of civilians), 330 Proximity, 443, 615 Prussia, 291, 297, 313 Psychology, 83, 98, 142, 148, 230, 335, 346, 352, 353 Pugwash conferences, 70 Punishment, 143, 151, 153, 522, 523, 527–530 Puskás, Ferenc, 6 Putin, Vladimir (Russia), 439, 456 Q Qualitative methods, 12 Quality peace, 25, 27, 267, 409, 411–415, 421–424, 429–431, 435, 437–441, 445, 446, 450, 453–455, 457–461, 463–471, 500 Quantitative methods, 555 Quiet diplomacy, 192, 338 R Race, racial, 105, 569 Rahman, Mujibur (Bangladesh), 585

638 Ramallah, Palestine, 619 Ramphele, Mamphela (South Africa), 23 Rape, 358, 497 Rath, Ari (Israel), 619 Rättvik, Sweden, 8 Reagan, Ronald (USA), 316, 490 Realpolitik, 152, 153, 291–294, 296–298, 307–309, 312, 316, 368, 425, 442, 456, 457, 479 Reason, 20, 23, 67, 68, 97, 106–111, 141, 142, 144, 146, 150, 160, 172, 194, 196, 209, 211, 217, 232, 234, 245, 256, 257, 271, 273, 287, 297, 299, 308, 309, 324, 328, 361, 363, 376, 397, 408, 410, 415, 420, 421, 423, 426, 431, 432, 443, 451, 457, 459, 467, 484, 490, 509, 510, 513, 517, 518, 538, 557, 573, 576, 577, 580, 595, 603, 605, 607, 617, 618 Rebel, 97, 158, 170, 171, 200, 218, 258, 275, 323, 377, 382, 393, 395, 411, 415, 423, 427, 428, 432, 469, 554, 601, 602, 604, 605, 607–609, 611 Reconciliation, 97, 421, 426, 464, 466–470 Reconstruction (after war), 372, 416, 417, 419, 501 Recurrence (of war), 174, 407–409, 411, 413, 423, 429, 435, 463 Referendum, 445, 550, 611 Reform, reformism, 141, 148, 234, 245–251, 266, 282, 356, 358, 366, 419, 432, 449, 454, 485, 536, 538–540, 543, 546, 547, 560 Refugee, 181, 194, 195, 367, 368, 388, 391, 447, 450, 452, 459, 494, 623 Regan, Patrick, 25, 212, 214, 219, 221, 387 Regime change, 173, 448, 454, 460 Regime coherence, 469 Regina Theatre, Uppsala, 23 Regional conflict, 259, 262, 414, 422 Regional conflict complex, 258, 262, 330, 438–440 Regional organizations, 214, 215, 219, 222, 229, 253–266, 282, 363, 367, 374, 438, 440 Regional security, 94 Rehman, Mujibur (Bangladesh), 585 Renamo (Mozambique), 471 Representation, 24, 124, 181, 187, 240, 242–245, 250, 259, 368, 432, 440, 480, 499, 567 Repression, 81, 371, 412, 422, 425, 430, 495, 527, 531, 554, 565 Research, basic, applied, 68, 108

Index Resolution 598 (UN), 194 Resolution 1325 (UN), 15, 475, 479–481, 495 Retraumatization, 468 Revenge, revanchism, 449 Revolution, 17, 92, 243, 295, 296, 304, 313, 314, 316, 524, 553, 565, 582 Reward, 153, 216, 372, 427, 439, 506, 522, 523, 527, 529, 530 RFSI (Sweden), ix, xxxv Rhine River, Commission, 578, 588 Rhodesia, Southern, xv, 6, 8, 116–137, 143, 166, 171, 422 Rice, Condoleezza (USA), 496 Richardson, Lewis F., 84, 600 Right moment (for solution), 610 Right (politics), 107 Riksdagen, Sweden, 8, 537, 544, 545 Rimland, 293, 294 Rio de la Plata, 579 Riza, Iqbal (UN), 186, 192, 195 Rochau, August Ludwig von, 291 Rohingya, 181, 185 Romania, 308, 394, 449 Roosevelt, Eleanor, 23, 337 Rotary, Rotary Peace Center, 10, 12, 23 Rotblat, Joseph, 106, 111 Roy, Arundhati, 23 Rudbeck, Olof, 29 Rule of law, 359, 368, 373, 432 Rural development, 17 Russett, Bruce M., xiv, 21, 25, 26, 86, 129, 260, 356, 443, 444 Russia, 96, 169, 220, 230, 231, 233, 240, 241, 248, 260, 263, 265, 269, 277–282, 314, 315, 327, 364, 365, 407, 408, 420, 425, 430, 439, 444, 446, 452, 456, 457, 459, 469, 489, 498 Rwanda, 95, 153, 159, 171, 172, 174, 257, 262, 361, 375–377, 380, 382, 388, 390, 395, 408, 422, 571, 582 S Saarland (Germany), 445, 452 Safieh, Afif (Palestine), 619 Sahel, 440, 511 Sahlin, Lena, 7 Sahnoun, Mohamed (Algeria), 201 Salim A. Salim (Tanzania), 179, 182, 189, 190, 193, 200 Sanctions, economic, 8, 26, 94, 115–131, 133–138, 173, 210, 367, 386, 476 Sanctions, targeted, 18, 25, 100, 140–144, 148–150, 153, 154, 158, 159, 163–172,

Index 175, 367, 370, 372, 374, 376, 385, 386, 389, 390, 394, 395 Sanctions Branch (UN), 17 Sanctions committee (UN), 146, 158 Sandinistas (Nicaragua), 606 Saravanamuttu, Johan, 25 Saudi Arabia, 265, 339 Savimbi, Jonas (Angola), 152, 157 Scandinavian Institute of African Studies, 67, 425 Scarce resource, 326, 555 Scarcity (and conflict), xxxv, 506–512, 516, 531, 532, 555, 558, 569, 561, 572, 575, 584, 586, 588, 591, 593, 595 Scarcity (of goods), xxxv, 506–512, 516, 531, 532, 555, 558, 569, 571, 572, 575, 584, 586, 588, 591, 593, 595 Schiller, Bo, 8, 9 Schmid, Helga (EU), 496 Scope (of mediation), 179, 188, 189 Secession, 343, 601, 602 Secular, 80, 623 Security community, 90, 457 Security (of state), 292 Security dilemma, 89, 90, 97, 326, 366, 410, 412, 414, 415, 432, 434, 443 Security equality, 97, 412, 468, 496 Security sector reform, 368 Segerstedt, Torgny T:son, 8 Segerstedt-Wiberg, Ingrid, 8, 28 Selection effects, 214, 222, 224, 378, 381, 386, 398 Sellström, Tor, 21 Semi-democratic, 379, 395, 499 Sen, Amartya, 19 Senegal, 393, 394, 556, 557, 574 Separatism, 170, 415, 424, 565 September 11, 2001, 9-11, 18, 80, 83, 97, 98, 255, 329, 428 Sequences, sequencing, 207, 214, 217, 224, 359, 367, 442, 446, 467, 468, 471 Serbia, 173, 183, 365 Sha’ath, Nabil (Palestine), 619 Shamir, Yitzhak (Israel), 617 Sharia law, 329 Sharpeville, South Africa, 6 Sheinbaum, Stanley, 619 Shiklomanov, Igor A., 570 Sida Swedish development cooperation (SIDA), xxxv, 6, 14, 17, 38, 59, 356, 368, 569, 601, 602, 611 Sierra Leone, xxxv, 118, 120, 121, 124, 129, 130, 131, 141, 142, 145–148, 152, 158, 159, 172, 174, 302, 313, 316, 327,

639 330, 335, 357, 369, 372, 385, 388, 393, 448 Sigtuna, Sweden, xv Singer, J. David, xiv, 4, 10, 15, 16, 20, 67, 82, 85, 124, 287 SIPRI Yearbook, 15, 67, 485 Sirleaf, Ellen Johnson (Liberia), 158, 372, 496 Slovenia, 365 Small, Melvin, 301 Smart sanctions, 25, 139, 140, 165, 386 Smith, Adam, 325 Soccer, 6 Socialism, 89, 454 Social progress, Panel, xxxiv, 19, 40 Social reform, 536, 538–540, 543, 545–547 Social science(s), 4, 9, 19, 66, 75, 83, 91, 105 Social Sciences, Faculty of (Uppsala), 9, 75 Sociology, 27 Soft power, 95 Solidarity, 93, 144, 359, 579, 593, 619 Sollenberg, Margareta, 94, 335 Solomon Islands, The, 470, 611 Somalia, 96, 167, 174, 257, 258, 377, 388, 415, 425, 440, 556, 557 Soro, Guillaume (Côte d’Ivoire), 393, 395 Sorokin, Pitirim, 84, 553, 554 South Africa, 6, 23, 116, 118, 124, 125, 127, 129–133, 137, 171, 249, 265, 394, 574 South Asia, 87, 265, 440, 486, 498 Southeast Asia, 257, 529, 572 Southeast Europe, 439 Southern Africa, 8, 94, 115, 197, 262, 265, 422, 424 Southern Rhodesia, 6 South Ossetia (Georgia), 233, 278 South Pacific, 599, 600, 606 South Sudan, 232, 262, 276, 440 Sovereignty, 85, 91–94, 96, 129, 256, 282, 288, 322, 369, 371, 373, 408, 447, 559, 563, 566, 577, 586, 606 Soviet, Soviet Union, 7, 93, 119, 181, 196, 230, 256, 298, 305, 307–310, 315, 316, 322, 337, 339, 341, 345, 348, 349, 370, 379, 417, 425, 441, 442, 445–447, 449, 452, 456, 457, 486, 489, 490, 511, 513, 517, 524, 526, 532 Spain, 170, 313, 407, 449, 450, 520, 574 Special Representative (UN), 186, 192, 193, 220, 257, 280, 342, 366, 374, 394, 480, 577 Sphere of influence, 256 SPLA, xxxv, 583 Sri Lanka, 199, 200, 261, 275, 377, 424, 428, 600

640 Staibano, Carina, 17, 370, 372 Stalemate, hurting, 611 Stalin, Joseph V. (Soviet Union/Russia), 295 Stanton, Gregory, 391, 392 Starmann, Richard G. Sr., xvii, 25 Starvation, 72, 82, 377, 510, 524, 527, 553 Star Wars, 324 State-based conflict (UCDP), 269––271, 274, 330 State (definition), 96, 287–292 State Department (USA), 18, 186 State formation conflict, 415, 459 Statistics (discipline), 6, 27, 82, 84, 120, 126, 390, 511, 512, 515, 525 Stedman, Stephen, 216 Stockholm conference 1972, 580, 593 Stockholm conference 1986, 88, 457 Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI), xvii, xxxv, 67, 74, 75, 87, 89, 386–389, 394, 485 Stockholm, Sweden, ix, xvii, xxi, 12–13, 17–18, 23, 25, 28, 140, 229, 240, 457, 475, 541, 542, 549, 569, 615, 619, 621 Stohl, Michael, 21 Stortinget, Norway, 23 St. Petersburg (Russia), 266 Strassmann, Fritz, 108 Strategic interest (military), 364, 521 Structural violence, 71, 82 Structure and War, 26 Style (in mediation), 179, 181, 188, 190, 191, 193, 196, 200, 202–204, 216 Subversion, 510 Succession, xiv Sudan, 24, 93, 152, 158–160, 172, 174, 185–187, 196, 198, 232, 377, 380, 382, 385, 440, 573, 582–584, 590, 591 Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA), 492, 583 Suez crisis, 349 Suffragettes, 494 Suicide bombing, 330 Sunni, 329, 428, 459 Sun Tzu, 325 Supply (of products), 515 Sustainable Development Goals, 495 Suttner, Bertha von, 493 Svensson, Isak, 22, 214–218, 220, 221, 223, 231, 380, 395, 600 Swain, Ashok, 35, 52, 53, 569 , 585, 586, 594 Sweden, Swedish, 3, 4, 6, 8, 10–12, 14, 18, 17, 23, 24, 26, 28, 65, 67, 71, 73–76, 82, 105, 107, 115, 137, 179, 190, 209, 291,

Index 243, 344, 345, 351, 352, 358, 368, 384, 386, 407, 425, 444, 460, 464, 476–478, 483–488, 497, 505, 502, 525, 532, 535–541, 543–550, 569, 601, 576, 604, 605–608, 610, 615–619, 621, 622 Swedish International Development Authority (SIDA), 507, 508, 516, 601, 602, 611 Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency (Sida), 5, 6, 10, 12, 14, 17, 301, 312, 356, 368 Swedish–Norwegian Friendship, 8 Swedish parliament (Riksdagen), 8, 540, 544, 546 Switzerland, 17, 578, 579 Syria, 139, 171, 193, 216, 220, 223, 231, 233, 236, 237, 258, 263, 266, 274, 280, 282, 309, 314, 363, 364, 370, 384, 390, 428, 452, 459, 485, 574 T Taiwan, 250, 282, 288, 298, 337, 340, 383, 385, 386, 388, 390, 443, 452, 454, 455, 457, 459, 520 Taliban, The, 171, 172, 174, 382, 428, 440 Talleyrand, C.M. de, 337 Tamil Tigers, LTTE, 261, 428 Tamir, Avraham (Israel), 619 Tampere Peace Research Institute (TAPRI), 67, 75 Tampere/Tammerfors, Finland, 67 Tanzania, 422, 582 Targeted sanctions, 17, 18, 100, 140–143, 148–150, 153, 154, 158, 159, 163–170, 172, 175, 370, 372, 374, 376, 385, 386, 389, 390, 394, 395 Tariff, 117, 289, 310 Taub, Samuel, 43, 284 Taxpayer, 12, 361, 430 Tax, taxation, 243, 289, 509, 529, 538, 539 Taylor, Charles (Liberia), 144, 145, 152, 153, 155, 157, 159, 372 Taylor, Jewel (Liberia), 145, 155, 157, 158 Technology, 27, 66, 85, 87, 89, 105, 291, 496, 505, 506, 513, 539 Tel Aviv University, 619 Territorial integrity, sovereignty, 256 Territorial peace, 442, 443, 445, 446, 452, 457 Territory (incompatibility), 326, 442 Terrorism, 18, 19, 72, 81, 84, 95, 98, 140, 169, 171, 173, 174, 232, 266, 276, 277, 282, 289, 321, 361, 370, 387, 415, 440, 616, 618 Terrorism, list, 167

Index Test ban treaty, 233 Thailand, 155, 265, 274, 342, 357, 451, 574 Tham, Carl (Sweden), 601 Thatcher, Margaret, 496 Themnér, Lotta, 213, 224 Theorin, Maj-Britt (Sweden), 487 Think-tank, 601, 603–605, 607–609, 611–613 Third party, 179, 184, 185, 187, 193, 203, 205, 208, 210–214, 217, 218, 220, 221, 232, 233, 335–338, 345, 350, 381, 384, 587, 594, 595, 599–601, 604–606, 611–613, 617 Third Reich (Germany), 313 Third Republic (France), 315, 318 Third term (as president), 358, 471 Third World, 92, 93, 242, 244, 250, 315, 316, 319, 345, 506, 527, 531, 533 Thucydides, 79 Tickner, J. Ann, 14, 21, 476, 494 Tigris River, 569 Timber exports, 372 Tir, Jaroslav, 442 Toft, Monica, 429 Togo, 394 Tolerance, 450, 499, 501 Tolstoy, Leo, 80 Tønnesson, Stein, 261 Topdog, 26, 508, 513 Track I, I 1/2, II, 210, 216 Traffic accident, 321 Transnational corporations, xiv Travel ban (sanction), 145, 165, 370 Tromsø, Norway, 67 Trump, Donald (USA), 70, 457–460, 497 Trusteeship, 606 Truth-telling, 468 Tsunami, 224, 321 Tunisian National Dialogue, 23 Tunis, Tunisia, 343, 499, 616, 618–621 Turkey, 96, 234, 263, 274, 422, 574 U U-2 affair, 308 Uganda, 93, 275, 358–364, 367, 368, 371–374, 422, 582 Ukraine, 233, 364, 408, 439, 446, 459 Ullenhag, Jörgen (Sweden), 10 Umeå, Sweden, 67 UN Charter, 17, 254, 256, 265, 271, 282, 323, 338, 347, 360, 372, 411, 445 UN Environmental Programme (UNEP), 594 UN General Assembly, 234, 368, 438, 495, 580, 586, 616 Unification (of a country), 297, 304, 309

641 Unification (of states), 297 UNITA (Angola), 152, 157, 159 United Fruit, 528, 529 United Kingdom (UK), 119, 123, 173, 269, 297–299, 323, 324, 358, 441, 607 United Nations (UN), 23, 116, 139, 158, 180, 183, 186, 243, 245, 251, 253, 254, 256, 264, 323, 357, 375, 420, 454, 510, 594 Universalism, 300, 302–319 University, in general, 77 University of Bradford, 72 University of California, Berkeley, 23 University of California, Irvine, 25, 239 University of Canterbury (New Zealand), 25 University of Gothenburg/Göteborg, 10, 71, 76 University of Michigan, 4, 11, 15, 66, 67, 75, 76, 85, 89, 109, 296 University of Notre Dame, 72, 76, 464 University of Papua New Guinea, 599, 613 University of Queensland, 25 University of Tromsø, 67 University Science Malaysia (USM), 18, 25, 534 UN Secretary-General, 10, 21, 23, 186, 220, 234, 257, 263, 270, 280, 360, 366, 374, 418, 419, 495 UN Security Council, 15, 17, 18, 139, 147, 153, 189, 193, 195, 239, 247, 250, 271, 275, 276, 356, 360, 361, 364, 366, 370, 374, 388, 395, 398, 418, 475, 478, 481 UN Women, 495 Upper Volta (today Burkina Faso), 556, 557 Uppsala (Sweden), 23, 107, 476 Uppsala Code of Ethics for Researchers, 69 Uppsala Conflict Data Program (UCDP), 15, 16, 20, 25, 26, 85, 95, 163, 164, 167–170, 172, 212, 213, 221, 231, 258, 271, 273, 274, 276, 326, 328, 329, 382, 384, 391, 431, 439, 446, 464, 498 Uppsala University, 4, 6, 8–12, 14, 16, 17, 23, 24, 26, 65, 73, 82, 97, 105, 187, 386, 422, 464, 475, 476, 601, 617, 618, 623 Upstream (in river), 575, 595 Urquhart, Brian (UN), 337, 339, 340, 342, 343, 347–349, 351 Uruguay, 418, 579 USA, United States, 4, 25, 66, 98, 120, 123, 148, 222, 231, 240, 243, 247, 259, 264, 265, 276–279, 281, 282, 297, 322, 323, 329, 341–343, 345, 348, 443, 456, 457, 459, 464, 486, 489, 497, 571, 576, 577, 587, 588, 613, 616, 618 US Congress, 246 US Department of Agriculture, 515

642 US House of Representatives, 518 US Senate, 495 Utopia, utopian, 80, 82, 88, 96, 99, 493, 615 Utrikespolitiska Föreningen (UF), 7 V Vacuum (power politics), 189, 307 Vandenberg, Arthur, Senator (US), 256 Varanasi, India, 14 Vasquez, John D., 442, 445, 572 Västerås, Sweden, 541 Västmanlands-Dala Nation, 24 Vatican, 197, 198 Väyrynen, Raimo, xiii, xviii, 10, 25, 301 V-dala Nation, 24 Venezuela, 128, 258, 525 Verification (of disarmament, implementation), 230 Versailles Peace Treaty, 355 Vesa, Unto, xv, xviii, 38 Veto (in UN Security Council), 245, 247, 248, 250, 280–282, 338, 356 Vice Chancellor, Uppsala University, 8 Victoria, Crown Princess, HRH, 13, 14 Victory, 89, 95, 98, 175, 221, 222, 261, 291, 293, 295–297, 316, 317, 336, 350, 358, 365, 368, 381, 392, 395, 410–416, 421, 423, 426–429, 431, 435, 438, 453, 454, 464, 483, 501 Victory consolidation, 409, 411–417, 421, 424, 425, 428, 429, 431, 432, 434, 435, 438, 441 Vietnam, 68, 91, 265, 309, 450–452, 454, 455, 457, 489 Vietnam, North, 68, 116, 454, 528, 530, 571 Vietnam, South, 69, 454, 527, 528, 530 Vietnam War, 71, 91, 92, 100, 315, 450, 453, 571 Violence, against women, 71, 73 Violence, direct, 71, 81, 82, 132 Violence, domestic, xiv, 413, 500 Violence, political, 390, 391, 465 Violence, structural, 71, 72, 82 Visa, visa ban, 18, 616 Voksenåsen, Norway, 8 W Waever, Ole, 94, 255 Wallensteen, Ester, 5 Wallensteen, Hanna, 28 Wallensteen, Ivar, 5, 28 Wallensteen, Karin, 28

Index Wallensteen, Lena, 13, 21, 28 Wallensteen, Margareta, 28 Wallonia (Belgium), 450 War, civil, 26, 70, 81, 83, 152, 157, 160, 173, 190, 212–215, 218, 232, 262, 289, 323, 345, 358, 361, 364, 372, 375–378, 385, 388, 389, 398, 414, 454, 459, 463, 465, 469, 496, 497, 499, 500, 563, 606 War crime, 145, 159, 194, 211, 223, 366, 397, 426, 468 Warrior, 416, 468 Warsaw Pact, 308, 445, 447 Washington, D.C., 343, 616 Water, 183, 419, 425, 556, 560, 569–580, 582–588, 590–596, 600, 604 Water cycle, 570 Watson Institute, Brown University, 17 Weapons of mass destruction, 67, 386, 387 Weimar Republic (Germany), 313–315, 318, 355, 356 Welfare, 106, 345, 357, 425, 443, 494, 520, 521 Wergeland, Harald, 111 West Asia, 301 West Bank (Palestine), 620 Western Europe, 90, 242, 260, 416, 420, 441, 442, 444, 445, 458, 489 Westphalian Peace, 255, 435 West, Western, 84, 87–90, 94, 111, 169, 197, 230, 255, 256, 263, 269, 310, 316, 325, 337, 345, 348, 361, 370, 393, 417, 420, 424, 427, 428, 440, 441, 445, 448–450, 456, 457, 479, 484, 494, 511, 609 White House, The, 517, 613 Wiberg, Håkan, xiv, xv, 92 Wide mediation, peace, 193 Wieviorka, Michel, 19 Wigforss, Ernst (Sweden), 344 Wikström, Jan-Erik (Sweden), 10 Wilhelm II, Emperor (Germany), 309, 316 Wilson, G. Ken, 15 Wilson, Woodrow, 85 Windhoek, Namibia, 475, 477, 478, 481 Winter War, xviii Wirmark, Bo, 8 Wohlgemuth, Lennart, 20 Women, 12, 71, 97, 158, 412, 440, 468, 475, 476, 478–480, 493–501 Women’s rights, 494, 496, 499–501 World Bank, 469, 594 World order, 27, 85, 169, 302, 314, 409, 415, 429, 430

Index

643

World World World World

Yugoslavia, 119, 125, 127, 129, 133, 134, 137, 169, 172, 173, 196, 197, 233, 365, 377, 388, 446, 449, 520, 571, 572, 574

Summit Outcome, 420 Trade Center, New York, 329 Trade Organization, 229 War I, 71, 80, 83, 84, 86, 87, 94, 96, 100, 310, 314, 322, 344, 385 World War II, 71, 87, 89, 100, 213, 245, 269, 306, 322, 356, 397, 417, 571 Wright, Quincy, 84, 85 X Xenophobic, 450, 500 Y Yale University, 25, 76 Yemen, 232, 258, 275, 459, 499, 571

Z Zaire (now Democratic Republic of Congo), 570, 571, 582 Zambia, x, 10, 351, 366, 422 Zartman, I. William, 21, 96, 211, 215, 217, 600, 611 Zero-sum-game, 296, 470 Ziad Abu Ziad (Palestine), 619 Zimbabwe, 93, 145, 262, 279, 280, 282, 422 See also Rhodesia Zucker, Dedi (Israel), 618