Routledge Companion to Peace and Conflict Studies 2019008079, 2019011037, 9781351724098, 9781351724081, 9781351724074, 9781138742772, 9781315182070

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ROUTLEDGE COMPANION TO PEACE AND CONFLICT STUDIES

This Companion examines contemporary challenges in Peace and Conflict Studies (PACS) and offers practical solutions to these problems. Bringing together chapters from new and established global scholars, the volume explores and critiques the foundations of Peace and Conflict Studies in an effort to advance the discipline in light of contemporary local and global actors. The book examines the following eight specific components of Peace and Conflict Studies: • • • • • • • •

Peace and conflict studies praxis Structure–agency tension as it relates to social justice, nonviolence, and relationship building Gender, masculinity, and sexuality The role of partnerships and allies in racial, ethnic, and religious peacebuilding Culture and identity Critical and emancipatory peacebuilding International conflict transformation and peacebuilding Global responses to conflict.

It argues that new critical and emancipatory peacebuilding and conflict transformation strategies are needed to address the complex cultural, economic, political, and social conflicts of the 21st century. This book will be of much interest to students of peace and conflict studies, peace studies, conflict resolution, transitional justice, reconciliation studies, social justice studies, and international relations. Sean Byrne is Professor of Peace and Conflict Studies at the University of Manitoba, Canada. Thomas Matyók is Director of the Air Force Negotiation Center and Associate Professor of Conflict Analysis and Resolution at Air War College, USA. Imani Michelle Scott is Professor of Communication at the Savannah College of Art and Design, USA. Jessica Senehi is Associate Professor of Peace and Conflict at the University of Manitoba, Canada.

ROUTLEDGE COMPANION TO PEACE AND CONFLICT STUDIES

Edited by Sean Byrne, Thomas Matyók, Imani Michelle Scott, and Jessica Senehi

First published 2020 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business  2020 selection and editorial matter, Sean Byrne, Thomas Matyók, Imani Michelle Scott, and Jessica Senehi; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Sean Byrne, Thomas Matyók, Imani Michelle Scott, and Jessica Senehi to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Byrne, Sean, 1962- editor. Title: Routledge companion to peace and conflict studies / edited by Sean Byrne, Thomas Matyâok, Imani Michelle Scott, and Jessica Senehi. Description: New York : Routledge, 2019. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2019008079 (print) | LCCN 2019011037 (ebook) | ISBN 9781351724098 (Web PDF) | ISBN 9781351724081 (ePub) | ISBN 9781351724074 ( Mobi) | ISBN 9781138742772 | ISBN 9781138742772(Hardback) | ISBN 9781315182070(e-book) Subjects: LCSH: Peace-building. | Conflict management. Classification: LCC JZ5538 (ebook) | LCC JZ5538 .R687 2019 (print) | DDC 303.6/6—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019008079 ISBN: 978-1-138-74277-2 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-18207-0 (ebk) Typeset in Bembo by Swales & Willis Ltd, Exeter, Devon, UK

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to the memory of our fallen comrade, Dr. Dennis J. D. Sandole who passed away recently. Dennis was one of the leading early pioneers of our discipline. His generosity of spirit, infectious humor, and mentorship and leadership of the younger generations will be truly missed but never forgotten.

CONTENTS

List of figures List of tables Contributors Acknowledgments

xii xiii xiv xxi

Introduction 1

Peace and conflict studies in the 21st century: Theory, substance, and practice Sean Byrne, Thomas Matyók, Imani Michelle Scott, and Jessica Senehi

PART I

3

Peace and conflict studies praxis (theory and practice)

23

  1 Conflict transformation Ho Won Jeong

25

  2 Connecting theory and practice in the peace and conflict studies field Louis Kriesberg

35

  3 Theory-building in peace and conflict studies: The storytelling methodology 45 Jessica Senehi   4 The peacebuilding spaces of local actors Wendy Kroeker

57

  5 Peace studies and conflict resolution Patrick G. Coy, Landon E. Hancock, and Anuj Gurung

68

vii

Contents PART II

Structure-agency, social justice, nonviolence, and relationship building

79

  6 Assessing peace and conflict studies theory and practice in reconciling agency and structural sources of severe sociopolitical polarization Frederic S. Pearson and Marie Olson Lounsbery

81

  7 Peace education and youth: A scholarship of engagement study infusing mentorship and the arts Alexia Georgakopoulos, Charles Goesel, and Kristie Jo Redfering

93

  8 Unproductive challenges that impede international environmental conflict intervention efforts Brian Polkinghorn and Brittany Foutz   9 Local peacebuilders’ ownership development in Southeast Asia SungYong Lee 10 Foreign peacebuilding intervention and emancipatory local agency for social justice Sean Byrne and Chuck Thiessen PART III

110 120

131

Gender, masculinity, and sexuality

143

11 Sex trafficking and peace: How patriarchy normalizes direct and structural violence Franke Wilmer

145

12 A holistic approach to addressing gender, violence, health, and peace Izzeldin Abuelaish and Paula Godoy-Ruiz

156

13 Peace and quiet or not-so-quiet: Gender, rurality, and women’s grassroots peacebuilding Robin Neustaeter

167

14 Protesting vulnerability and vulnerability as protest: Gender, migration, and strategies of resistance Lisa McLean

178

15 Missing discourses: Recognizing disability and LGBTQ+ communities in conflict transformation Rebecca Shea Irvine and Nancy Hansen

189

viii

Contents PART IV

Partnership and allies in racial, ethnic, and religious peacebuilding

201

16 Nonviolent social movements: Advancing justice on paths to peace Jodi Dueck-Read

203

17 Engaging students in humanitarian action using enduring questions: A Jesuit approach Janie Leatherman and Kathryn Nantz 18 Post-traumatic stress disorder and cognitive imperialism: The lost roles of male Indigenous protectors and providers, and their effects on family Brian Rice

214

226

19 Religion and peaceful relations: Negotiating the sacred Nathan Funk and Yelena Gyulkhandanyan

235

20 Conflict intervention and reflexive evaluation Jay Rothman

245

PART V

Culture and identity

257

21 Interactive conflict resolution, identity, and culture Ronald J. Fisher

259

22 Identity matters: Social identity and social change Celia Cook-Huffman

269

23 Making peace profitable: Introducing peaceology as the cultural and identity building blocks of a new peaceful world industry, beginning in Chicago Peter K. B. St. Jean

280

24 Peacebuilding in response to migration: From securitization to peace in the context of the crisis for migrants in Europe Gillian Wylie

291

25 Commissioning educators: The United Nations’ call to advance global peace through teaching intercultural communication Imani Michelle Scott

301

ix

Contents PART VI

Critical and emancipatory peacebuilding

313

26 Rethinking international peacebuilding Necla Tschirgi

315

27 Youth, peace, and security: Global trends and a Colombian case study Lesley J. Pruitt

326

28 Joint civil–military interaction: A unity-of-aim method for peacebuilding 337 Thomas Matyók and Sven Stauder 29 The paradox of complexity in peace and conflict studies: Indigenous culture, identity, and peacebuilding Paul Nicolas Cormier 30 Innovations: Critical peace education and yogic peace education Katerina Standish PART VII

349 359

International conflict transformation and peacebuilding

371

31 Conflict metanarratives and peacebuilding Stephen Ryan

373

32 Engaging the root causes of past violence in Ireland: Ethical education for liberation Johnston McMaster and Cathy Higgins

383

33 Buying time in a crisis: The UN Secretary-General and multiplex mediation in a multipolar nuclear world Thomas E. Boudreau and Anthony Yost

393

34 Human security and peacebuilding: Critical tools for operationalizing human rights in the post-Cold War world Kenneth Christie and Robert J. Hanlon

403

35 Transforming ethnic conflict: Building peace and diversity management in divided societies Mitja Žagar

414

x

Contents PART VIII

Global responses to conflict

425

36 And what about the African Americans? Peace and conflict studies neglect of the intractable conflict related to systemic racism in the United States Imani Michelle Scott 37 Peacebuilding techniques or praxis Stephanie P. Stobbe

427 438

38 Global responses to armed conflict: The menacing multi-dimensionality of peacebuilding under conditions of state fragility Fletcher D. Cox

449

39 Major processes and structures of conflict management and global governance 459 Paul F. Diehl, J. Michael Greig, and Andrew P. Owsiak 40 Robust peacekeeping: The most appropriate operational paradigm to address contemporary UN peacekeeping and civilian protection challenges 470 Kofi Nsia-Pepra 41 New era in global security: When peace means global complex operations 481 Yvan Yenda Ilunga Conclusions 491

Critical peace and conflict studies emancipated? Sean Byrne, Thomas Matyók, Imani Michelle Scott, and Jessica Senehi

Index

493

504

xi

FIGURES

  7.1   7.2  7.3   7.4   7.5   7.6   7.7 12.1 20.1 20.2 20.3 28.1 30.1 33.1

Peace promotion Spread Peace Peacebuilding Including others Definition of peace Conceptions of peace Peace song Violence and women’s health: a holistic framework Consensus goals of Jewish students Consensus goals of Arab students Joint visions of Arab and Jewish students Joint civil–military interaction components Spacial Relativity of CPE and YPE (author’s collection) Metcalfe circle

xii

101 102 103 103 104 105 106 162 250 252 253 341 368 397

TABLES

  6.1 Agency provisions in civil war peace agreements, 1975–2011   6.2 Structure provisions in civil war peace agreements, 1975–2011   6.3 Agreements with agency and structure provisions as a predictor of a peace agreement ending, 1975–2011   6.4 Average peace agreement duration across provision types   7.1 Subject demographics   7.2 Affective learning   7.3 Cognitive learning   7.4 Behavioral learning   7.5 Learning impact 17.1 NVivo survey coding results 30.1 Five principles of Yogic Peace Education

xiii

85 85 86 86 97 102 105 106 107 220 367

CONTRIBUTORS

Izzeldin Abuelaish, associate professor, Dalla Lana School, University of Toronto, is a fivetime Nobel Peace Prize nominee. I Shall Not Hate was inspired by the loss of his daughters, Bessan, Mayar, Aya, and cousin Noor to Israeli shelling in 2009, and in whose memory he founded Daughters for Life Foundation. His awards include 14 honorary doctorates, the Gandhi peace award, the Governor General’s Medallion, the Order of Ontario, and the Queen Elizabeth II Diamond Jubilee Medal. Thomas E. Boudreau attended the Maxwell School at Syracuse University where he received his PhD in 1985. He has taught at Syracuse University as a visiting professor, and at American University, and the University of Pennsylvania. He is currently an Interdisciplinary Professor of Conflict Analysis at Salisbury University in Maryland. Sean Byrne is Professor of Peace and Conflict Studies at the University of Manitoba where he served as founding Director of the Mauro Centre for Peace and Justice at St. Paul’s College (2003–2018) and founding Director of the PhD Program in Peace and Conflict Studies (2005– 2014). He was a recipient of the Faculty of Graduate Studies’ first Award for Excellence in Graduate Student Mentoring (2017). Kenneth Christie is program head, Human Security and Peacebuilding, at Royal Roads University. He is an expert on peace, development, democracy, human rights, and human security. He currently researches themes of religious conflict, as well as ethnic and state formation/failure in the Middle East, North Africa, and Asia. Celia Cook-Huffman is an educator and training consultant. She is Professor of Peace and Conflict Studies at Juniata College and currently serves as an Assistant Provost. Her teaching and research interests include conflict dynamics, the relationship between social identity and conflict, gender dynamics in conflict, and nonviolent social change. Paul Nicolas Cormier holds a PhD in Peace and Conflict Studies from the University of Manitoba. His research interests include Indigenous peacebuilding and considering research as a process for peacebuilding in Indigenous contexts. He is a faculty member in Aboriginal education at Lakehead University in Thunder Bay Ontario Canada. xiv

Contributors

Fletcher D. Cox is Assistant Professor of Political Science at William Jewell College, and Research Associate of the Sié Chéou Kang Center for International Security and Diplomacy at the Korbel School of International Studies, University of Denver. He specializes in the study of international peace and security. Patrick G. Coy, Professor of Peace and Conflict Studies, Kent State University, is editor of Research in Social Movements, Conflicts and Change, co-author of Contesting Patriotism: Culture, Strategy and Power in the Peace Movement, and recipient of a distinguished career award from the Peace, War, and Social Conflict section, American Sociological Association. Paul F. Diehl, Associate Provost, Ashbel Smith Professor of Political Science, and Director, Center for Teaching and Learning, University of Texas-Dallas is co-author of The Puzzle of Peace (2016). He served as President of the International Studies Association 2015–16. His areas of expertise include the causes of war, UN peacekeeping, and international law. Jodi Dueck-Read is an instructor of Conflict Resolution Studies at Menno Simons College of Canadian Mennonite University. She earned her PhD in Peace and Conflict Studies from the University of Manitoba. Her research interests include peacebuilding, migration, LGBTTQ* studies, and the US–Mexico border. Ronald J. Fisher is Professor Emeritus of International Peace and Conflict Resolution at American University, Washington, DC. His primary research and practice interest is interactive conflict resolution, which involves unofficial third-party interventions in ethnopolitical conflict. His publications include Interactive Conflict Resolution (1997) and Paving the Way (2005). Brittany Foutz is a doctoral candidate in the Kennesaw State University School of Conflict Management, Peacebuilding, and Development. Her area of expertise is in reparations, international law, and the International Criminal Court. She is a graduate of the MA program in Conflict Analysis and Dispute Resolution at Salisbury Univeristy. Nathan Funk is Associate Professor of Peace and Conflict Studies at Conrad Grebel University College, the University of Waterloo, in Waterloo, Ontario. His publications on religious and cultural dimensions of peacebuilding include Islam and Peacemaking in the Middle East (2009) and Ameen Rihani: Bridging East and West (2004). Alexia Georgakopoulos, PhD, is a Professor in the Department of Conflict Resolution Studies at Nova Southeastern University and Director of the Institute of Conflict Resolution and Communication (ICRCtraining.com). She was featured on NBC’s Today Show to discuss peace in a diverse world. She recently published The Mediation Handbook with Routledge. Paula Godoy-Ruiz is a Guatemalan-Canadian whose research expertise is in gender and human rights; conflict, mental health, and intimate partner violence; and violence against women. She’s global health program coordinator within the Department of Family and Community Medicine, University of Toronto. She holds a PhD in Anthropology. Charles Goesel holds a PhD in Conflict Analysis and Resolution and has published on peace education and program effectiveness, the use of improv in mediation, and mediation in a xv

Contributors

domestic violence context. He conducts research on refugees and has published on the effectiveness of group treatment with survivors of torture. J. Michael Greig is Professor of Political Science and University Distinguished Teaching Professor at the University of North Texas. He is co-author of International Mediation. His research has appeared in the Journal of Politics, American Journal of Political Science, International Studies Quarterly, and Journal of Conflict Resolution, among other outlets. Anuj Gurung is a doctoral candidate and a Teaching Fellow in the department of Political Science, Kent State University. His dissertation research captures Bhutanese-Nepali refugees’ local experiences in resettlement. Yelena Gyulkhandanyan works as a Capacity Building and Research Coordination Officer at the Disarmament, Demobilization, and Reintegration unit of the International Organization for Migration, Somalia Mission. She holds a Master of Peace and Conflict Studies, University of Waterloo, and a Bachelor in International Development from the University of Toronto. Landon E. Hancock, Associate Professor, Peace and Conflict Studies, Kent State University is editor of Narratives of Identity in Social Movements, Conflicts and Change, co-editor with Christopher Mitchell of Zones of Peace and Local Peacebuilding and National Peace. He has published in Peacebuilding, National Identities, Ethnopolitics, Peace and Change, Conflict Resolution Quarterly. Robert J. Hanlon is an Assistant Professor in Political Science at Thompson Rivers University and an associate faculty member in the School of Humanitarian Studies at Royal Roads University. His research explores the links between corruption, human security, and corporate social responsibility in emerging Asian economies. Nancy Hansen is an Associate Professor and Director of the Interdisciplinary Master’s Program, Disability Studies, at the University of Manitoba. She has a PhD in Human Geography (of disability) from the University of Glasgow. She is currently researching the experience of disabled and LGBTQ+ people in post-conflict zones. Cathy Higgins is a Senior Researcher, Writer, and Educator with the Ethical and Shared Remembering Program 1912–22, with The Junction, Derry/Londonderry, Northern Ireland. She is also an Adjunct Assistant Professor with the Irish School of Ecumenics, Trinity College, Dublin. Yvan Yenda Ilunga is an internationalist, development practitioner, and global policy specialist. His research interests include humanitarian action and security, modern violent conflicts, policy modeling, civil–military interaction, natural resources-based conflicts, and political philosophy. He has a PhD in Global Affairs from the Division of Global Affairs, Rutgers University. Rebecca Shea Irvine is an MSU-DOCTRID Hegarty Research Fellow and splits time between Michigan State University and Queen’s University Belfast. She holds a BA in International Relations from Michigan State University, an MA in Comparative Ethnic Conflict and a PhD in Social Policy, both from Queen’s University Belfast. Ho Won Jeong is a renowned conflict studies scholar publishing 11 books and numerous articles on negotiation, peace and conflict, the global environment, and international conflict. xvi

Contributors

Dr. Jeong was a consultant to European Commission research committees and US government think tanks. He is senior editor of International Journal of Peace Studies. Louis Kriesberg is Maxwell Professor Emeritus of Social Conflict Studies and founding director, Program on the Analysis and Resolution of Conflicts, Syracuse University. His recent books include: Realizing Peace, Louis Kriesberg: Pioneer in Peace and Constructive Conflict, and, with Bruce W. Dayton, Constructive Conflicts (5th ed.) and Perspectives on Waging Conflicts Constructively. Wendy Kroeker is Assistant Professor of Peace and Conflict Transformation Studies at Canadian Mennonite University. She brings academic interest and contextual experience to ideas of everyday peacebuilding with over 20 years of experience as a mediator, facilitator, and peace program consultant. Her work focuses on South/Southeast Asia and Latin America. Janie Leatherman is Director of Humanitarian Action at Fairfield University, and Professor of Politics and International Studies. Her research and consultancy focus on conflict, gender and violence, border and transnational politics, and human rights. She served as Project Director for the Teagle-funded grant described in the coauthored chapter with Kathryn Nantz. SungYong Lee is Senior Lecturer at the National Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies, University of Otago. His areas of research expertise include conflict resolution and post-conflict peacebuilding processes in civil war, especially related to post-liberal peacebuilding. Thomas Matyók is Director, Air Force Negotiation Center and Associate Professor, Air War College. He is Executive Director of the Joint Civil–Military Interaction Network and convener, Military Education and Training in Conflict Analysis and Transformation. Research interests are conflict analysis in complex operations, civil–military interaction, and religion in peace operations. Lisa McLean is a PhD candidate at the School for Conflict Analysis and Resolution at George Mason University, and was a Dean’s Fellow for the Center for the Study of Gender and Conflict 2014–17. She is currently researching women’s activism in relation to migration and forced disappearance in Mexico and Central America. Johnston McMaster is a Senior Researcher, writer, and educator with the Ethical and Shared Remembering Program 1912–22, with The Junction, Derry/Londonderry, Northern Ireland. He is also an Adjunct Assistant Professor with the Irish School of Ecumenics, Trinity College, Dublin. Kathryn Nantz is Roger M. Lynch Chair of Economics at Fairfield University. Her research interests are in education, economics education, and comparative systems. She has been involved in a variety of grant-funded projects, nationally and internationally, related to faculty development and the scholarship of teaching and learning. Robin Neustaeter, Assistant Professor in Adult Education, St. Francis Xavier University and the Coady International Institute, is a peace and community educator, mother, ethnographer, community organizer, artist, and volunteer. She has also taught at the community level. Her xvii

Contributors

research examines peacebuilding, community development, gender, mothering, volunteering, and the everyday. Kofi Nsia-Pepra is Associate Professor, Department of History, Politics, and Justice, Ohio Northern University. As a Ghanian military officer, he served as a UN peacekeeper in Rwanda and Sierra Leone, receiving UN and ECOMOG peace medals. He authored UN Robust Peacekeeping: Civilian Protection in Violent Civil Wars (Palgrave Macmillan, 2014). Marie Olson Lounsbery is an Associate Professor of Political Science at East Carolina University. Her research examines civil war and rebel group dynamics, military intervention, and peace processes. Her most recent book is Conflict Dynamics: Civil Wars, Armed Actors, and their Tactics (University of Georgia Press, 2017, with Alethia Cook). Andrew P. Owsiak is Associate Professor of International Affairs at the University of Georgia. He is the author of numerous articles in leading international relations journals. His areas of expertise include interstate conflict and conflict management processes – including diplomacy, territorial disputes, rivalries, war, and nonviolent conflict management strategies. Frederic S. Pearson is Director of the Center for Peace and Conflict Studies, Professor of Political Science, and Gershenson Distinguished Faculty Fellow at Wayne State University. He was previously professor and research fellow at the University of Missouri-St. Louis and twice a Fulbright scholar in the Netherlands and UK. Brian Polkinghorn is a Distinguished Professor of Conflict Analysis and Dispute Resolution and the Executive Director of the Bosserman Center for Conflict Resolution at Salisbury University. He has been a practitioner and scholar in the field since the 1980s. He works primarily in the areas of cross-border cooperative efforts and implementation of peace agreements. Lesley J. Pruitt is Senior Lecturer in International Relations at Monash University. Her books on peace and conflict include: The Women in Blue Helmets: Gender, Policing and the UN’s First AllFemale Peacekeeping Unit (University of California Press) and Youth Peacebuilding: Music, Gender and Change (State University of New York Press). Kristie Jo Redfering earned her doctorate from the Department of Conflict Resolution, Nova Southeastern University. She is a special education teacher and behavioral specialist working with special needs populations. She has developed peer support and social justice programming that contributes to effective youth conflict resolution education and violence prevention programs. Brian Rice is a member of the Mohawk Nation, Kahnawaké, Quebec. He authored two books, Seeing the World with Aboriginal Eyes, and The Rotinonshonni as well as numerous chapters and articles concerning Indigenous issues in PACS. He has conducted research in Hawaii, Guyana, Ireland, Senegal, Mexico, Israel/Palestine, Thailand, and Australia. Jay Rothman is a scholar-practitioner of creative conflict engagement. He focuses on issues of intergroup Identity-Based Conflict and Cooperation and Action Evaluation. He is the Director xviii

Contributors

of the ARIA Group, an international conflict engagement training, consulting and evaluation company. His many publications include, Re-Envisioning Conflict Resolution: Vision, Action and Evaluation in Creative Conflict Engagement (Routledge, 2018). Stephen Ryan retired in 2016 as Senior Lecturer in Peace Studies at Ulster University where he directed the PACS MA Program. He authored Ethnic Conflict and International Relations, The UN and International Politics, and Transformation of Violent Intercommunal Conflict. He was Co-Chair of IPRA’s Commission on Conflict Resolution and Peacebuilding. Peter K. B. St. Jean, PhD, is Associate Professor and Chair, Sociology Department, North Park University, Chicago; and Director of Criminal Justice within both Sociology and the School of Professional Studies. He is founder and Executive Director of the community-based non-profit, the Peaceful World Movement, and university-based Urban Peace Lab. Imani Michelle Scott has a BA and MA in communication studies and a PhD in conflict analysis and resolution. She is editor and contributing author to Crimes Against Humanity in the Land of the Free: Can a Truth and Reconciliation Process Heal Racial Conflict in America? Jessica Senehi is Associate Professor in the Peace and Conflict Studies Program, Faculty of Graduate Studies, University of Manitoba, and housed in the Arthur V. Mauro Centre for Peace and Justice at St. Paul’s College. She is the founding director of the Winnipeg International Storytelling Festival: Storytelling on the Path to Peace. She is co-editor, with Joseph Sobol, of Storytelling, Self, Society: An Interdisciplinary Journal of Storytelling Studies. Katerina Standish is the Deputy Director of the National Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies at the University of Otago in New Zealand. She is a specialist in transformative education, the creator of Yogic Peace Education, and the inventor and primary researcher for the Peace Education Curriculum Analysis (PECA) (pecaproject.org). Sven Stauder holds a BA in Political Science and Administration from the University of Konstanz, Germany, and has an MA dual-degree in International Administration and Conflict Management in cooperation with the University of North Carolina at Greensboro’s Peace and Conflict Studies department. His research interest lies in the civil–military domain. Stephanie P. Stobbe, PhD, is an Associate Professor in Conflict Resolution Studies at Menno Simons College (Canadian Mennonite University) at the University of Winnipeg, and a leading expert on Southeast Asian processes of dispute resolution. She also serves as the Lexington Books series editor for Conflict Resolution and Peacebuilding in Asia. Chuck Thiessen is Assistant Professor at the Centre for Trust, Peace, and Social Relations at Coventry University. He published Local Ownership of Peacebuilding in Afghanistan (2014, Lexington), Conflict Transformation and the Palestinians (2017, Routledge), and Conflict Transformation, Peacebuilding and Storytelling (2018, Lexington). Necla Tschirgi is Distinguished Professor of Human Security and Peacebuilding, Joan B. Kroc School of Peace Studies, University of San Diego, where her research focuses on conflict prevention and peacebuilding. Previously, she served as Senior Policy Advisor with the UN Peacebuilding Support Office and Vice President of the International Peace Academy. xix

Contributors

Franke Wilmer is professor of political science and Department Head at Montana State University, former Chair of the Montana Human Rights Commission, and served four terms as a legislator in the Montana State legislature. Her most recent book is Human Rights in International Politics (Lynne Rienner, 2015). Gillian Wylie is assistant professor in International Peace Studies at Trinity College Dublin Ireland. Her teaching and research interests cover human trafficking, migration politics, and gender analysis of war and peace. She is author of The International Politics of Human Trafficking (Palgrave, 2016). Anthony Yost earned his MA and BA in Conflict Analysis and Dispute Resolution from Salisbury University. He works in the field of conflict resolution, mediating, facilitating, training, and researching disputes involving international conflicts, restorative justice, family, business, employee, and civil court cases. Anthony currently resides in New York City. Mitja Žagar is Research Councilor, Institute for Ethnic Studies, Full Professor at universities in Slovenia and abroad, and a member of the Scientific Council of the Slovenian Research Agency. His research interests include human rights, the protection of minorities, international and comparative constitutional law, comparative politics, transformation, transition, and diversity management.

xx

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

We gratefully acknowledge the support and participation of all of the contributors to this handbook who took the time to write meaningful and significant chapters. We also acknowledge support of colleagues, students, and staff and infrastructural assistance from the Arthur V. Mauro Centre for Peace and Justice and the Peace and Conflict Studies PhD and MA programs at the University of Manitoba, the Liberal Arts program at Savannah College of Art and Design, and the United States Air Force Negotiation Center at Air University. Finally we acknowledge Routledge Commissioning Editor Andrew Humphrys for consenting to publish this volume and Natalie Clark, Bethany Lund Yates, and Megan Hiatt for ensuring a high-quality copyediting process.

xxi

Introduction

PEACE AND CONFLICT STUDIES IN THE 21ST CENTURY Theory, substance, and practice Sean Byrne, Thomas Matyók, Imani Michelle Scott, and Jessica Senehi Introduction This volume is about peace. A quick survey of ongoing violent atrocities can easily lead to despair. Are the conflicts we face simply too big? Do we have the capacity to do what is required to build enduring peace in conflict-affected spaces? Can we commit to the multi-generational responses that are required to make a more just world? These are some of the questions peacebuilders ask themselves. And yet, they continue their Sisyphean work. Peacebuilders stay the effort because peace is continuously built and rebuilt, it is not a state of nature. Peace is constantly reinvented (Howard, 2001). They continue the work of Immanuel Kant and the Enlightenment thinkers. This volume is put forward to assist those who dedicate themselves to the ongoing reinvention of peace. And there is much work to be done. Though still much remains to be realized before we achieve Kant’s perpetual peace, we have had successes. The 1998 Good Friday peace accord speaks to conflict transformation at the political and strategic levels in Northern Ireland. Liberia provides an example of women as peace activists, as well as the power of religious groups to collaborate in peacebuilding. At the community level, organizations such as the National Association for Community Mediation (NACM) work to empower local actors to facilitate sustainable responses to local conflicts in the United States (US). Peacebuilding occurs daily in regular places. At the dawn of the 21st century, Nelson Mandela wrote that, The 20th century will be remembered as one marked by violence. It burdens us with its legacy of mass killing and destruction, of violence inflicted on a scale never seen and never possible before in human history. But this legacy –the result of new technology in the service of ideologies of hate – is not the only one we carry, or that we must face up to. Less visible, but even more widespread, is the legacy of day-to-day, individual suffering. (2002, p. 6) To be sure, at the debut of the 21st century deeply complex cultural, socio-economic, and political issues had driven global conflict and violence to historically unprecedented levels. 3

Byrne, Matyók, Scott, and Senehi

Tectonic shifts in the global order created spaces in which bad actors could freely move. Unlike any period before, the early years of the 21st century were witness to thousands of deaths as a result of Al-Qaeda orchestrated terrorist attacks in the US, bombings in Indonesia, Spain, and the United Kingdom (UK), and massive riots in India, and recently in France the 2015 Bataclan theater massacre and the Charlie Hebdo shootings of 12 people. In the midst of these travesties, protracted wars were waged throughout the Middle East and North Africa, as well as Sub-Saharan Africa, while in 2008 the world economy was impacted by the greatest economic collapse since the Great Depression. Emerging in tandem with these dramas were the largely nonviolent globalized Occupy and regionalized Arab Spring social movements, as well as the exceedingly violent transnational terrorist group Islamic State in the Levant (ISIL) rooted in Syria, Iraq, and Libya and Boko Haram in Northern Nigeria. A prominent consequence of these intensely perilous conditions was widespread fear, prompting a continuous flow of refugees seeking escape and safe haven in global North countries – where many were met with xenophobia fueled by old prejudices, populist politics, and a long history of conflict. Today, xenophobic reactions toward refugees and immigrants in the European Union (EU) and the US symbolize an ever-increasing global discord steered by virulent ultra-nationalist extremists and right-wing political groups endorsing classism in Europe and racism in the US. While a populist-focused-right pulls individuals into its orbit, an elitist urban-left orients on advancing a global worldview that can leave people untethered from their political and social spaces. Identity is lost. Culture becomes little more than entertainment for the left as the global poor are further marginalized. The failure of the left to embrace the global poor pushes individuals to the right. The choice is populist right or elitist left. These push-and-pull factors exacerbate existing political, social, economic, and cultural frictions. Further jeopardizing global peace and stability are flagrant threats of thermonuclear war and nuclear events short of war as North Korea and Iran threaten world peace and India and Pakistan confront each other over Kashmir. The threat of nuclear engagements exacerbates conflicts over resources linked to space, arable land, and water, in a global climate milieu where fossil fuels spew carbon emissions into the atmosphere. Taken together, these troubling circumstances signal a pressing need for the collective engagement of all spheres of the global community to consider the best ideas, formulate responsive designs, and implement impactful peacebuilding skill sets to forge meaningful and sustainable change (Darby, 2006). In the face of today’s unparalleled threats to our planet and our humanity, “we owe our children – the most vulnerable citizens in any society – a life free from violence and fear . . . [so] we must address the roots of violence. Only then will we transform the past century’s legacy from a crushing burden into a cautionary lesson” (Mandela, 2002, p. 6). It is in the throes of our present, highly conflicted milieu that this manuscript has been created. Assuredly, this offers extensive practical, applicable, and theoretical views of the peace and conflict studies (PACS) discipline, and its role in the burgeoning work of peacebuilding.

The peace and conflict studies discipline: Accolades and critiques PACS is a discipline of inter or transdisciplinary study, theory, and practice (Galtung, 2010) that began in the 1960s as the Alternative or Appropriate Dispute Resolution (ADR) school in the US and Canada, and as Peace Studies in Europe (Barash & Webel, 2014). PACS would move forward to become the Conflict Management school during the early 1980s, the Conflict Resolution school in the late 1980s, the Transformational Conflict Resolution school in the 1990s, the Peacebuilding school in the early 2000s, and ultimately, the Critical 4

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and Emancipatory Peacebuilding school today (Reimer et al., 2015 Paffenholz, 2015). Interdependence, nonviolence, problemsolving, people’s agency and resilience, and social justice are at the very core of PACS and the foundation of its commitment to work through the complexity of conflict with innovative and creative processes to promote human rights, human security, and peacebuilding. In fact, PACSs conflict management and conflict resolution processes and techniques (e.g., arbitration, mediation, negotiation, dialogue, and problemsolving groups) have successfully addressed numerous negative peace issues (the absence of direct violence) (Bercovitch et al., 2008). However, PACS has not fully tackled unjust social, economic, cultural, political, global, and postcolonial structures so that a lasting peace can be forged for all global citizens (Oberschall, 2007; Webel & Galtung, 2007; Zelizer, 2013). Even so, PACS is a discipline in its own right. There are over 300 PACS undergraduate programs, 60 MA programs, and eight PhD programs in North America; there are also many undergraduate and graduate programs throughout Europe, Australia, Africa, Asia, the Middle East, and Latin America. Add to that, PACS has an established academic literature base with theoretical and practice giants such as the late Elise and Ken Boulding, John Burton, Dennis Sandole, and Edward Azar, as well as Johan Galtung, Louis Kriesberg, Herb Kelman, Peggy Chinn, Birgit Brock-Utne, Thania Paffenholz, Janie Leatherman, Anna Snyder, Siobhan McEvoy-Levy, Celia Cook-Huffman, John Paul Lederach, Ronald Fisher, George Lopez, Mohammed Abu Nimer, Herbert Kelman, Oliver Richmond, Roger Mac Ginty, Fred Pearson, Mitja Zagar, Luc Rychler, Tom Woodhouse, Jay Rothman, Tom Boudreau, and Ho Won Jeong among many others. In addition, PACS pracademics use creative and innovative techniques, processes, and skill sets (e.g., storytelling, photography, theater, music, and sports) as nonviolent strategies from the arts and humanities to support peaceful coexistence and conflict transformation in divided societies (Senehi, 2016, 2010). In addition, the international community provides resources and conflict management processes so that those embroiled in malevolent conflicts can peacefully resolve their differences (Jeong, 2000, 2016). Nevertheless, the challenges of today’s violent and conflicted world are real tests of the authenticity and capabilities of PACS. PACS, like any up-and-coming discipline, has not been without its growing pains and critics. For example, a critical peace and conflict impact assessment tool is needed in post peaceaccord societies to identify flexible intervention methodologies, and to explore the peace and policy gaps between local people’s actual experiences and their realistic expectations of peace (Mac Ginty, 2008, pp. 104–6). Also, Thania Paffenholz (2015) has argued that the Critical and Emancipatory Peacebuilding School needs to stop the bifurcation of the international and the local and recognize their complexity and interrelatedness. In fact, there is a need to confirm what we mean by the local, considering a myriad of different actors, networks, and practices, and to deconstruct the power, control, and domination that local elite leaders use to exclude and marginalize certain groups at the grassroots (Paffenholz, 2015). Complicating matters at the international level are corporations, international governmental organizations (IGOs), nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), Global North neoliberal actors, and Brazil, Russia, India, and China (the BRIC countries). There is also a need to develop practical solutions to issues of human security, human rights, and social justice. The question posed is: How do we know we are making a positive impact on advancing the cause of peace? Peace scholars and practitioners critique the liberal peace with its “IKEA (one model fits all) inbuilt biases” (Mac Ginty, 2008), leaning toward the promotion of democracy and human rights, the regulating influence of the free market and its top-down hierarchical, technocratic, and bureaucratic measures that take the local out of peacebuilding (Richmond, 2011). 5

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And PACS efforts to confirm models, conceptions, and the roles of various agencies in the process have been confounded by other contemporary components of peacebuilding. For example, David Chandler (2017) outlines the rise and collapse of international peacebuilding in his seminal book, Peacebuilding: The Twenty Year’s Crisis, 1997–2017. Chandler suggests a global crisis is at hand attributable to the democratic peace paradigm and the theory’s universalist liberal technocratic values, expectations, and assumptions that a capitalist free market, democracy, elections, human rights, security reform, and the rule of law are the panacea needed to transform and end all inter- and intra-state wars.

Conceptual focus and organization of the volume Using a multidisciplinary approach to advance the most compelling theoretical and practical measures of peacebuilding, this book demonstrates ways in which PACS is working through contemporary challenges to firmly establish its status as the discipline best equipped to offer peacebuilding solutions which sustain the health of our world, and our humanity. Each chapter explores critical challenges facing our world and our discipline, and offers practical solutions in terms of theory and praxis that work.

Part I: Peace and conflict studies praxis (theory and practice) PACS is an established discipline addressing complex social, political, economic, and cultural problems in terms of theory, substance, and practice. From its roots in appropriate dispute resolution and conflict management to peace studies and conflict resolution, to more recent conflict transformation and peacebuilding, PACS has evolved in terms of theory-building and new creative-edge intervention processes. In Chapter 1, Ho Won Jeong begins this work by arguing that a protracted conflict is generally manifested through adversarial social action, with the expression of differences often accompanied by intense hostilities. Discussion highlights from this chapter include: • • •

The necessity of understanding conflict based on identity issues, social relations, and power dynamics. The impact of economic disparities and political oppression on levels of resentment in large-scale conflicts. Challenges in mitigating conflicts with deep-rooted histories of animosities and entrenched systems of exploitation and suppression.

In Chapter 2, Louis Kriesberg speaks to the need for theory and practice to inform PACS in terms of study and practice. Kriesberg uses three case studies to illustrate the need for theoryinformed practice and practice-informed theory in complex negotiations. Key features from this chapter include: • • • •

Peace and conflict studies theory must be consistent. Theory and practice are constructively related. Theory and practice phenomena are both explicit and implicit. All theory and practice phenomena are present in action, manifest, and latent.

As a way of exploring the development of the discipline, in Chapter 3, Jessica Senehi notes that a distinctive storytelling research methodology is emerging in the thesis research of graduate 6

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students in Peace and Conflict Studies at the University of Manitoba. Discussion high points from this chapter include: • • •

These approaches interrogate the relationship between knowledge and power, and seek to de-center knowledge-making which has been mainly driven by socially privileged groups. This approach seeks to de-silence, to center, and to make visible potential knowledgemakers who have been silenced, marginalized, and invisibilized. This methodology has overlaps with other emancipatory research methods, yet it can be seen as a distinctive philosophical and strategic approach.

In Chapter 4, Wendy Kroeker focuses on local actor peacebuilding where she explores the interactions and intersectionalities of organically grown peacebuilding in international intervention efforts. Highlighted is how PACS has been impacted by local and international peacebuilding activities. Memorable parts from this chapter include: • • •

How locally oriented, everyday peacebuilding opens new spaces for theory and praxis. The roles of structure and agency in conflict. Contextualized examples from work in Mindanao, Philippines, are used to demonstrate how emerging peacebuilding structures impact peacebuilders themselves.

In Chapter 5, Patrick Coy, Landon Hancock, and Anuj Gurung explore some of the many ways that PACS has engaged with contemporary social and political problems. It is a discipline of study and practice less intrigued by solving esoteric intellectual puzzles and more attentive to direct and deep engagement with actual problems and conflicts that communities face. Valuable elements from this chapter include: • • •

PACS’ commitment to social justice, broadly conceived. PACS’ abiding preference for empowerment of those involved in a conflict or problem. A series of historical and contemporary examples that demonstrate PACS’ contributions to achieving social justice.

“Reflexive praxis” is critical in advancing the discipline (Lederach, 2010; Sandole et al., 2010).

Part II: Structure-agency, social justice, nonviolence, and relationship building There are continuing tensions regarding people’s agency to nonviolently address unjust and violent structures that continue to keep most of humanity in disempowered positions. Part II speaks to the need for deconstruction of the liberal peace paradigm, a focus on hybridity, and recognition of localized peacebuilding processes that co-create a just peace. In Chapter 6, Fred Pearson and Marie Olson Lounsberry write that countries in various parts of the world have been experiencing quite stark examples of sociopolitical polarization. Discussed is how agency and structure interact leading to that polarization. Elements of scrutiny from this chapter include: •

The intriguing question of whether, and in what form, peace and conflict resolution theory and practice can be useful in ameliorating certain traumatic divisive trends. 7

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• •

A fresh look at the record of various conflict management approaches in macro-political situations. Discussion of whether “agency” or “structure” is the key focal point for effective responses.

In Chapter 7, Alexia Georgakopoulos, Charles Goesel, and Kristie Jo Redfering notice that many of today’s young people are faced with a tremendously challenging environment where youth violence, bullying, and conflict are common aspects in their lives and coupled to deficiencies in necessary life skills such as literacy. The outcomes can be crippling to youth across contexts. Important characteristics of inquiry from this chapter include: • • •

The lack of adequate literacy skills, and poor conflict resolution skills in primary-aged children. An example of a community grassroots effort to tackle youth violence in order to build stronger and safer communities. Discussion of how a program was designed and delivered as a mentorship-based one and how it can become a model peace education program at a national and international level.

In Chapter 8, Brian Polkinghorn and Brittany Foutz speak to the many issues in the international environmental arena that create layers of sometimes unnecessary complexity. Issues can revolve around international sovereignty, domestic political dynamics, and levels of uncertainty, unpredictability, or lack of control as to how cross-border environmental systems operate. Discussion highlights from this chapter include: • • •

Unproductive dynamics that result from how practitioners are taught and trained to intervene, leading to unrealistic expectations. Recognition of the tendency to ignore what participants say they want in a mediator, which often is at odds with what we teach and train. Discussion of the most problematic dynamic in environmental conflict transformation, the overt politicization of science, which has deflated the positive impact it brings to accurately framing a systemic approach to cross-border environmental conflict.

Sung Yong Lee examines in Chapter 9 how grassroots agencies in Asia have developed locally owned models of peacebuilding since the early 1990s. Noted are how primarily normative theoretical perspectives, rather than practitioner experiences, have driven the mainstream debates on local ownership. Key points of investigation from this chapter include: • • • •

Examination of various forms of local ownership development in contemporary peacebuilding in Asia, especially in Cambodia and the Philippines (Mindanao). Determining what strategies local actors used to build and develop their programs. Highlighting the distinguishing features of these models in terms of form, work principles, and methods of operation. Exploring how these features changed through time.

Sean Byrne and Chuck Thiessen’s Chapter 10 critiques the way post-war liberal peacebuilding intervention methodologies are inducing formidable asymmetric power relationships between interveners and domestic counterparts and how they are serving the maintenance of the global status quo of power, control, and wealth. Of interest is the propensity of liberal intervention 8

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practices towards technocratic problemsolving responses that circumvent locally prioritized and designed responses to injustice. Analysis of critical elements from this chapter include: • • •

Recognition of how heavy-handed interventions and distinct foreign ownership are often viewed as essential to short-term stabilization and saving lives. Surveying critical-emancipatory responses to a liberal peacebuilding hubris that headlines the assurance of social justice. Avenues of peacebuilding logic are evaluated on their ability to constructively nurture local-level peaceful relations as well as confront unjust social, cultural, economic, and political structures.

Social justice means paying attention to the everyday activities of local people to transform conflict (Donais, 2012; Mac Ginty, 2011; Özerdem, 2014).

Part III: Gender, masculinity, and sexuality Theory needs to engage with the fact that while women and youth are resilient, there are high levels of suicide among LGBTQ2* youth and women, as well as evidence of direct, cultural, and structural violence directed against youth; women; and persons identifying as gay, lesbian, transgendered, or nonbinary; and people living with a disability may face additional barriers. Gender and sexuality are central to identity, power, and knowledge systems. Those living with a disability may be further marginalized. In Chapter 11, Franke Wilmer articulates that, although sex trafficking has been a subject of national laws and international treaties, the link of torture, kidnapping, and imprisonment with various kinds of commercialized “sex work,” including online sex cam performance, pornography, and prostitution, has received much less attention. Chapter 11 highlights the following key points: • • •

Sexual “services” often take place within a coercive social structure and, as one expert put it, “it is impossible to tell the difference between coerced and voluntary performance” (Peters et al., 2012). Sex trafficking involves the most horrendous forms of physical, emotional, and mental torture, including, but not limited to, brutal acts of sexual degradation, assault, and rape. Linking the issues surrounding “sex work” and sex trafficking to a theory of patriarchal ideology is critical to reveal the fundamental incompatibility of democracy and the rule of law, on the one hand, with a patriarchal system of identity, power, and knowledge, on the other (see Gilligan & Richards, 2014).

Staying with the topic of women’s health and safety in Chapter 12, Izzeldin Abuelaish and Paula Godoy-Ruiz examine the dynamic relationship between gender, violence, health, and peace through a gender analysis of the health effects of war on women. Chapter 12 notes the following critical points: • • •

While they are experienced differently depending on the context, women’s health concerns, challenges, and inequities are universal. Women face many challenges in conflict and war as victims as well as having great leadership potential in times of peace and stability. Health initiatives, campaigns, and programs can make inroads into communities experiencing organized conflict and help lay the foundations for human peace. 9

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•

Social and cultural change should accompany multi-sectoral and multi-level responses to the effects of violence in order to break rigid gender stereotypes that treat women as sexual and reproductive objects and males as aggressive subjects.

In Chapter 13, Robin Neustaeter argues that life as we know it would not exist were it not for women volunteering in their local communities. There is a dialectical relationship between cultures of gender and cultures of geography, such as rurality and grassroots women’s peacebuilding. Discussion highlights from Chapter 13 include: • •

•

Women’s formal and informal involvements are significant to the wellbeing of children, families, individuals, and the women themselves. Their actions may not be labeled peacebuilding by the women or their communities yet their everyday experiences of volunteering or helping-out are often normalized and they, their communities, and others do not consider or appreciate how gender informs women’s everyday community involvement practice, meaning-making, and knowledge. Rural areas are often cast as gender conservative, yet within rural spaces multiple diverse overlapping gender cultures exist.

In Chapter 14, Lisa McLean outlines the contributions of feminist vulnerability, theorizing through an examination of the gendered politics of migration and the gendered precarity experienced by undocumented migrants as they cross borders. The focal points from Chapter 14 are as follows: •

•

•

Critical feminist theorizing of vulnerability and precarity offers an example of paradigmshifting theoretical analysis by providing a critique of the intersecting power relations that differentially expose populations to harm, while suggesting a point of departure for building a politics of solidarity in resistance to oppression and violence. It is critical to unpack the material and discursive structures of power that both drive people to leave their homes, and the gendered and racialized meanings that create the conditions that facilitate and even, at times, justify the exposure of migrants to extreme forms of violence and degradation as they cross borders. Everyday acts of survival and resistance through grieving and defiance performed by women mourning their missing family members and standing for justice for their children challenge the dehumanizing narratives of otherness and illegality that serve to justify and normalize the suffering of migrant populations in the border areas of the world.

In Chapter 15, Rebecca Shea Irvine and Nancy Hansen explore John Paul Lederach’s assertion that “hearing and engaging the struggling, sometimes lost, voices of identity” is essential in the process of conflict transformation (Lederach, 2003, p. 55). The argumentation highlights from Chapter 15 encompass: • • •

The process of conflict transformation has often failed to recognize the voices of those not traditionally associated with the cause or continuation of the political violence. Marginalized communities such as the LGBTQ2* and Disability Rights Movements can have a key role to play in building more inclusive post-conflict societies. Peacebuilding processes must ensure that the rights of LGBTQ2* and disabled people are acknowledged, and their citizenship is conceptualized in the development of a post-conflict state.

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Gender and sexuality can be challenging for people embroiled in conflict and must inform holistic peacebuilding approaches (Byrne & Senehi, 2012; Engle-Merry, 2008).

Part IV: Partnership and allies in racial, ethnic, and religious peacebuilding The dynamics of racism and ethnicity come into play in peacebuilding as social grassroots movements continue to work with people across difference, building a plethora of alliances and partnerships to make worthwhile constructive changes. In Chapter 16, Jodi Dueck-Read explores racialized peacebuilding as an obstacle to change through the dynamics of white supremacy at play in the transnational border justice movement. Racialized Peacebuilding (RP) is an outgrowth of asymmetrical societal norms sustaining white people and their power that occurs in social change movements. Chapter 16 analysis embody the following key points: • • •

RP is characterized by unequal representation, invisibility of racialized actors, and imbalances of power. Peacebuilders must become more intentionally inclusive and more systemically aware to examine and discuss power dynamics to erode regimes of racialized peacebuilding. RP operates among nonviolent social change movements and profoundly limits movement capacity because dominant groups persist in charge of leadership, inclusion, and cultural norms.

In Chapter 17, Janie Leatherman and Kathryn Nantz report on the findings of an innovative curriculum and pedagogical practices project in humanitarian action involving three Jesuit universities, namely Fairfield University, Georgetown University, and the University of Central America in Managua, Nicaragua. The growing scope and intensity of humanitarian challenges around the world caused by intersecting and mutually exacerbating internal conflict, transnational crime, climate change, and unsustainable urbanization, among other factors, have led to complex national and international crises. Chapter 17 reports the following key points: • • •

Standing in solidarity with the oppressed, bearing witness, and mobilizing for social change through nonviolence have always been at the core of peace action as well as humanitarian concerns. The partner institutions agreed to focus their curricula around the concept of human suffering to get inside the reality of others and to shoulder a portion of their burden by focusing on its causes, its dimensions, and the obligation to act to alleviate it. The Jesuit Universities Humanitarian Action Network (JUHAN) methodology informs strategies for encouraging students to encounter the reality of human suffering from the perspective of others, to study critically and evaluate its causes, and to discern ways of sharing the burdens of that reality individually and collectively.

In Chapter 18, Brian Rice reflects on his father and his brothers who went to war, and what the effect of his grandfather’s residential school experiences might have had on them in their relationships with their own families and the choices they made in joining the military. Chapter 18 features the following points in the discussion:

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•

•

• •

The possible repercussions of his grandfather’s attendance at an Indian industrial residential school on his sons and later on himself and his siblings. His grandfather was Peter T. Rice, number 83, Manitouwaning industrial school in the 1908 Canadian school census and later an enlisted member of Brock’s Rangers, the only all Indigenous Canadian battalion in World War I. Although he cannot affirm what effects residential school had on his grandfather or his sons, he can say that his father struggled with alcoholism and became negligent, while some of his uncles became abusive towards their children and families. As they got older they put this down to their terrible experiences in war. His father, Herbert J. Rice served in the US American Rangers in World War II. Two uncles also served in the 101st Airborne’s parachute regiment, while another served in the Royal Canadian navy, and still another in the US infantry. His father and uncles came from Kahnawaké, a Mohawk community across from Montreal Quebec. Although his grandparents and father spoke the Mohawk language, they had been brought up Roman Catholic and were not exposed to traditional Mohawk teachings. The lack of knowing their traditions may have resulted in the choices they made. Learning about traditions helped Dr. Rice overcome some of his own struggles in finding meaning and purpose as he came to understand the Kaianére:kowa (Great Law of Peace) from an Indigenous elder.

In Chapter 19, Nathan Funk and Yelena Gyulkhandanyan explore approaches to peacebuilding in settings where parties to conflict attribute religious value to contested spaces and sites. The high points of Chapter 19 are as follows: • •

•

Contestation over sacred sites is a complicating factor in a wide range of identity conflicts and is a significant source of resistance to conflict transformation. The presence of competing claims to religiously meaningful sites does not inevitably predict intractable conflict, and numerous cases suggest that the same factors, which make conventional negotiations difficult, can also be engaged in constructive ways that render dialogue more authentic and responsive to the shared values of communal groups. The Universal Code of Conduct on Holy Sites is an initiative that combines international norm entrepreneurship with localized efforts to cultivate new forms of relationship predicated on interreligious empathy, respect, and cooperation.

In Chapter 20, building on previous work, Jay Rothman makes the point that to know what something is, it is often necessary to know what it is not. The focus of his work on creatively engaging identity-based conflicts requires at least in part that such conflict be distinguished from other types of more “routine” conflicts. Discussion highlights from Chapter 20 include: • • •

Rothman’s identity-based conflict and conflict intervention work has grown into something of a contingency model with the type of intervention suggested dependent upon the analysis of the nature and depth of the conflict. He extends John Burton’s (1993) distinction of disputes from conflicts by further operationalizing those terms (though somewhat differently than Burton) and adding a third category of problems. His primary concern is still with creatively engaging identity-based conflicts. As a kind of byproduct of that focus, his approach also seeks ways to foster cooperative management of goal-based problems and settlement of resource disputes. 12

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Partnerships between civil society networks can foster inclusive peacebuilding processes by including a broad array of interests and needs (Lewellyn & Philpott, 2014).

Part V: Culture and identity Localized peacebuilding includes people’s cultural knowledge in interactive conflict resolution processes and intercultural communication, as communities address xenophobia bearing in mind challenges associated with some Indigenous practices (see Byrne, 2017a). In Chapter 21, Ronald Fisher suggests that, even though culture and cultural differences present challenges for Interactive Conflict Resolution’s (ICR) methods, given the propensity for collective identity issues to be at the center of conflict causation, escalation, and expression, ICR offers appropriate and useful responses. Chapter 21 outlines the following key points: • • • •

The central role of identity processes and issues in social conflict. Ways in which ICR privileges basic human needs, including the need for identity and its recognition. The need to examine the values, beliefs, and practices encompassed in ICR and to assess their applicability across cultures. The necessity for scholar-practitioners of ICR methods to explicate and manage challenges related to cultural issues.

In Chapter 22, Celia Cook-Huffman reviews research within the social identity tradition to consider the saliency of identity categories in specific intergroup encounters, and how identitybased psychological constructs influence ways in which communities mobilize for social change and work for social justice. Chapter 22 highlights the following central points: • • •

The critical role of identities in analysis and intervention design. The negative impact reconciliation strategies may have on ingroup solidarity among minority group members. Practitioner considerations for challenging structural inequality and building majority and minority group support for collective social change efforts.

In Chapter 23, Peter St. Jean shares findings of ethnographic, participant observation, and narrative data associated with a Chicago-based study to support the premise that a primary contributor to our perpetually violent society is its link to profit. St. Jean notes that until peace is made more profitable than violence, the latter will prevail. Chapter 23 highlights include: • • • •

Intensive collaborations with former and current gang members whose lives have been altered through reconceptualizing peace as profitable. The foundations of peace intelligence and peace efficacy inherent in an economy of peace. Employing cultural, identity, and economic shifts as building blocks for creating more sustainable peaceful outcomes in society. The new epistemology of Peaceology, a subcategory of Urban Peaceology, currently being developed at North Park University, Chicago.

In Chapter 24, Gillian Wylie references the current crisis for migrants seeking refuge in Europe from the wars in Syria, Afghanistan, and Iraq to explore the connections between war, displacement, refuge seeking, and the politics of inclusion and exclusion. Chapter 24 notes the following key points: 13

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• • • •

International rhetoric linked to “the right to refuge.” Growing limitations on access to refuge, with a primary focus on the hesitancy of European governments to receive asylum seekers. The need for social security in an EU where exclusionary public politics hold popular sway. Considerations on xenophobia, Islamophobia, and physical barriers at European borders.

In Chapter 25, Imani Michelle Scott maintains that intercultural communication education and training programs can prove exceedingly useful to supporting a peaceful coexistence between members of groups representing different cultural backgrounds. Scott uses the 2001 United Nations’ Universal Declaration on Cultural Diversity as a basis for exploring the links between intercultural understanding and peacebuilding. Chapter 25 recognizes the following central points: • • •

The peace imperative issued by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), and the role of culture in peacebuilding. Conceptual and practical differences between communication and dialogue in resolving conflict. Breaking down discrepancies between the narratives of dominant and marginalized cultures in pedagogical content and methodology.

An integrated peacebuilding framework must build culture and identity into the process (Lederach, 1997; Dayton & Kriesberg, 2009).

Part VI: Critical and emancipatory peacebuilding Peace education, trauma reduction, environmental justice, storytelling, and the arts are among emerging praxis processes that are empowering the grassroots to challenge unjust structures and systems. In Chapter 26, Necla Tschirgi asserts that, since its entry into the international lexicon in 1992, peacebuilding has attracted growing acceptance by development, humanitarian, human rights, and security practitioners while simultaneously coming under serious criticism from academics and analysts. Chapter 26 notes: • • • •

Disconnects exist between critical assessments of international peacebuilding approaches and the practices of those on the frontlines of peacebuilding in conflict-affected and postconflict countries. Peacebuilding is the messy and hybrid outcome of the intersection of local efforts and international actors. Emancipatory processes include restorative and distributive justice, peace education, storytelling, trauma reduction, environmental stewardship, and the arts. The complex interface between the local and the international might offer keys to more effective peacebuilding.

In Chapter 27, Lesley Pruitt highlights the increasingly key roles that young people have as stakeholders in peace and security efforts. Pruitt proposes that work engaging directly with young people involved in peacebuilding in diverse contexts is critical to helping improve our understandings of violence and peace. Chapter 27 outlines:

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• • •

Core theoretical concepts and approaches are critical in understanding the role that youth play as peace builders. Societies need to critically reflect on the creative scholarly and practical work of youth engaged in peacebuilding. Non-traditional programs (i.e., a dance-based peacebuilding program for youth in Colombia) offer new possibilities for working with youth.

In Chapter 28, Thomas Matyók and Sven Stauder investigate how the comprehensive Civil–Military Interaction (CMI) approach to peace operations integrates the work of civil and military actors in a unity-of-aim approach to support the reconstruction of civil society. Matyók and Stauder propose that peacebuilders working in conflict-affected and post-conflict environments require Whole-of-Society approaches akin to that of CMI. Chapter 28 supports this proposition by: • • •

Exploring the inherently collaborative peacebuilding process, Whole-of-Society offers in CMI. Considering the specific actors involved in a CMI context. Delving into the ways in which CMI secures institutional support for enduring peace.

In Chapter 29, Paul Cormier uses Aboriginal cultural peace processes as the context for exploring the paradox of complexity in PACS. He suggests that as global cultures become more closely aligned through modern technology, conflict and violence will become increasingly complex and multi-layered. Chapter 29 highlights the premise for this suggestion by: • • • •

Examining the impact of colonization forced settlement and marginalization on the peacebuilding legacies of Indigenous people. Probing new security concerns exemplified by terrorism and so-called enemy groups. Scrutinizing the transcendence of traditional, historical boundaries of nation states. Recognizing the requirement of embracing holistic peacebuilding processes or risking redundancy.

In Chapter 30, Katerina Standish reports where we, as peace educators, have been, where we are now (and where we are not), and where we are perhaps going. Standish concludes with considerations on mainstreaming peace education so that it becomes mandatory education. Chapter 30 expounds on these considerations by: • • • •

Briefly pointing at the work of peace education pioneers (i.e., Maria Montessori, John Dewey, and others). Exploring the foundational theories and practices that inform peace education(s) commitment to building positive and sustainable peace. Recognizing the importance of critical peace education and violence in society. Articulating the centrality of Yogic peace education.

Critical and emancipatory peacebuilding addresses real-world complex problems by including local people’s needs and epistemologies in holistic and sustainable peace processes (Mac Ginty, 2013; Richmond, 2016; Thiessen, 2011).

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Part VII: International conflict transformation and peacebuilding Mediation and negotiation processes are used with third party intermediaries such as states, organizations, or individuals to resolve differences among elite decisionmakers and manage conflict (Byrne, 2017b). Protracted ethnopolitical conflicts and the new forms of terrorism necessitate human rights efforts and transitional and restorative justice practices to repair relations and transform unjust structures and systems. In Chapter 31, Stephen Ryan articulates that the interest in meta-analysis in PACS research has at least three dimensions. The first is a legacy of the inroads made by the postmodern turn in the social sciences in the past decades. Jean-François Lyotard (1979) points to the dangers of meta-narratives that make claims to universal truths and suggests localized narratives replace them. There are clear implications here for peacebuilding. Second, meta-analysis also appears in the concept of meta-conflict. These are situations where there is a conflict about what the conflict is about. The belief is that such fundamental differences of perspective make it harder to promote effective conflict resolution. Galtung and Jacobsen (2002), for example, has noted that meta-conflict can decide the root conflict in a way that makes it harder to obtain peaceful outcomes. The Cyprus case is used to illustrate such a situation. Third, in mathematics and computing there is also the idea of “going meta.” This refers to a process of “upleveling” or “zooming out” in order to gain new perspectives on intractable problems. Chapter 31 consists of the following main features: •

• •

Developing new meta-narratives, deconstructing existing ones, promoting greater empathy towards opponents’ narratives, or replacing a single narrative with a plurality of voices and perspectives allow the international community to challenge meta-narratives that impede the building of peaceful societies. Re-examining the idea that “truth” and objective facts can be used to undermine conflict formations. The three different dimensions of meta-analysis (postmodern turn, meta-conflict, zooming out) explain their importance for peacebuilding.

In Chapter 32, Johnston McMaster and Cathy Higgins further explore emancipatory and critical dialogue, noting that communities emerging from violent conflict struggle with the past as there is often a battle for the normative narrative and interpretations of history that become prisons and weapons of enduring conflict. Northern Ireland remains imprisoned by its past, has a surplus of memory which, along with its social, religious, and political conservatism, prevents the future. The culture of violence is deeply rooted and its root causes tend not to be robustly analyzed. Currently there is a strong focus on the centennial commemorations of crucial and violent events that changed Ireland after 1912–22. As well as the historical deficit there is less awareness of the context, complexity, and critical nature of these events. Yet people are finding it easier to engage with this more distant past than with the more recent past. In doing so they are finding a prism with which to begin to deal with the more recent violent conflict. Key conclusions from Chapter 32 comprise the following: • •

A community education process provides the critical, ethical, and liberating space to robustly engage the past and to envisage and contribute to building a more just and common good. The praxis of the Ethical and Shared Remembering program is a community education and third level program that is now mainstreamed as a critical and ethical methodology for engaging with the events of 1912–22. 16

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• •

Looking back and looking forward provides an educational praxis for liberation from the past for a just, inclusive, nonviolent, and peaceful future. Sectarianism and patriarchy as all-pervasive, destructive dynamics are critiqued and deconstructed within historical, patriarchal, religious, political, militaristic, and cultural forces, towards the common good with the view of building pluralist democracy and civil society themes building on its narrative hospitality, flexibility, and plurality, a template adapted from philosopher Richard Kearney.

In Chapter 33, Thomas Boudreau and Anthony Yost consider the value of Metcalfe’s Law as a communication strategy to deescalate global threats during dangerous, multipolar nuclear crises. Discussion highlights from Chapter 33 include: • • • •

The benefits of “multiplex mediation.” The use of mediation teams composed of political and military leaders. The potential for salient escalation controls during a nuclear crisis. Political, military, and diplomatic formulae to end a nuclear crisis.

In Chapter 34, Kenneth Christie and Robert Hanlon argue that the post-Cold War period has profoundly transformed how the international community deals with security threats. The rise of new non-state actors who rely on complex networks, technology, and media are at the forefront of new global threats. Terrorism has changed how society thinks about conflict while governments claiming to be guarantors of security are increasingly compromising human rights. Chapter 34 reports the following key points: • • •

• •

The concepts of human security and peacebuilding are mainstreaming new ways of thinking about international relations in the context of international human rights and security. The central focus on rights is of great importance because it also offers new tools for protecting victims of state abuse while shaping global governance institutions. Debates regarding the balance between security (human) and human rights provide the background to how they emerged and how they may be resolved (or not) in the contemporary era. They also indicate the differences between the pre-9/11 international human rights regime and the post-9/11 regime. When the state prioritizes certain rights over others there can be little human security. The question is what should individuals expect from government when human rights are at stake? Concepts of human security and peacebuilding can offer valuable insight into how the international human rights regime works.

In Chapter 35, Mitja Žagar explores approaches to principles, concepts, strategies, policies, and practices of diversity management that include the de-escalation and transformation of ethnic conflicts, open inclusive public dialogue, and an organizational, procedural, and institutional framework. Chapter 35 recognizes the significance of the succeeding key points: • • •

Relevant actors and roles are important in regulating and managing diversities and transforming conflict. The ways in which dimensions of pluralities, asymmetries, and diversities might produce persistent lines of division and cleavage in deeply divided societies. The dangerous use of ethnic identities for political mobilization in ethnically diverse and deeply divided societies. The Building Peace Region Alps-Adria (PRAA) research and action project is discussed. 17

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Mediation, diplomacy, transitional justice, and external aid are important approaches to intervening in inter- and intra-state conflicts (Jeong, 2016; Sandole, 2011).

Part VIII: Global responses to conflict A myriad of peacebuilding techniques and practices exist as the global community responds to complex and deep structural conflicts such as the environment through conflict management and conflict resolution processes such as diplomacy, the UN, regional organizations (African Union, EU), peacekeeping, and political economy among others. In Chapter 36, Imani Michelle Scott contends that the causes and consequences of the protracted hesitancy of PACS to address the intractable conflicts related to race, power, and social injustice impacting African Americans in the US is directly related to the political economy of education. Scott proposes that PACS’ integrity is linked to its ability to take on US racism as one of its greatest challenges. Discussion highlights in this chapter include: • • •

Evidence of contemporary consequences of historical, systemic racism in the US. Ways in which the Euro-rooted, imperialistic, and patriarchal tendencies of PACS have contributed to its avoidance of issues related to US racism. Recommendations and opportunities for PACS to engage research, scholars, pedagogy, and programs in addressing racism and racial violence in the US.

In Chapter 37, Stephanie Stobbe provides an overview of the peacebuilding practices in PACS, including negotiation, mediation, ICR, the problemsolving process, nonviolent action, truth and reconciliation commissions, diplomacy, the UN, and regional organizations (African Union or AU, the Association of Southeast Asian Nations or ASEAN, EU). Chapter 37 notes the following key points: • • •

The impact of creativity and cultural respect in developing peacebuilding processes The potential for constructive social change with appropriate techniques and processes. Traditional and Indigenous peacebuilding processes such as community mediation, sharing circles, and community justice forums.

In Chapter 38, Fletcher Cox examines how during the 1990s and into the 21st century, demands have grown for international, regional, and nongovernmental organizations to intervene in societies wracked by civil war. In particular, the UN is more deeply engaged than ever before in efforts to prevent and ameliorate armed conflicts. Chapter 38 highlights the following: • • •

Recognition of how today’s peacebuilding agenda is topped by intra-state conflicts that rise to the levels of mass atrocities and crimes against humanity. Acknowledgement of the high demand for intervention because civil wars generate powerful spillovers effects for the global community. Discussion of how international responses to contemporary civil wars aim to facilitate the “consolidation of peace,” which requires a broad set of peacebuilding and conflict management tactics.

In Chapter 39, Paul Diehl, J. Michael Greig, and Andrew Owsiak note that as threats to peace and security arise, both internationally and internally, actors in the global community have a variety of response options to meet those challenges. Chapter 39 18

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• • •

Reviews several of the most prominent approaches to peace development, including mediation, peacekeeping, sanctions, adjudication, and peacebuilding. Discusses options and when they are appropriate and most effective. Recognizes how and when peacebuilding approaches intersect with one another and their implications.

In Chapter 40, Kofi Nsia-Pepra makes the point that robust peacekeeping, or a strong and forceful peacekeeping force which involves the use of force to deter and stop conflict spoilers from civilian killings, is not well received by all. It has variously been condemned and questioned by some scholars and commentators as a false good idea, an undesirable development, and a necessary evil. The focal points from Chapter 40 are as follows: •

• •

Robust peacekeeping has triggered debates on the legitimacy of the use of offensive force, challenges to constituent principles of traditional peacekeeping doctrine, namely consent, impartiality, and neutrality, and limited use of force for self-defense. There are also concerns about potential attacks on UN non-military personnel and reprisals against civilians. Robust peacekeeping by its designation can deter and stave off civilian killings by conflict spoilers despite these dilemmas. The formidable barrier model of robust peacekeeping success (a game theoretic model) supports the argument that robust peacekeeping is the most appropriate UN peacekeeping operational paradigm to address the challenge of civilian protection by UN peacekeepers in contemporary mission theatres.

In Chapter 41, Yvan Ilunga investigates the connection of peace with global complex humanitarian operations. He proposes that peacebuilding strategies put forward by PACS must be viewed as operational frameworks for conflict resolution. The argumentation highlights from Chapter 41 encompass the following: • • •

The need for robust responses to local conflicts that have global impacts such as terrorism, transnational crime, and humanitarian disasters. A discussion of the limitations and opportunities present in traditional global peace and conflict resolution mechanisms. Recognition that peace leadership must be globally framed and implemented.

Global responses to conflicts require deeper intervention in conflict zones with a myriad of intervention tools and processes (Özerdem & Lee, 2016; Stahn & Melber, 2016). The Concluding chapter reflects on where we are at in the academic and practice development of PACS. The primary aim of this book is to obtain a better understanding of PACS exploring the contemporary challenges to the discipline as well as offering some practical solutions to those challenges.

Conclusions Our ever changing global environment faces nuclear proliferation and the threat of nuclear war between the US and North Korea as well as between Iran and the US and Israel, the plight of Rahyinga and Syrian refugees fleeing persecution and death in Myanmar and Syria, the deadly consequences of hurricanes in Puerto Rico and Texas, the global trafficking of children and women for sexual exploitation, and the death and mass starvation of civilians in South Sudan, 19

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Northern Nigeria, Somalia, and Yemen due to intra-state infrastructural wars. Yet there are also many other examples of local people’s resilience around the world (Donais, 2012) as they build meteorological early warning systems, harness local coping strategies to build capacity in food security while Dr. Muhammad Yunus’s Grameen Bank provides microcredit loans to empower poor women in the Global South. Conflict is ever-present. And there is hope. Irrespective of the negative conditions the world presents, we have the capacity to respond and build a more just and civil world. Peace and conflict studies begins from the recognition that it can be better. PACS scholars and practitioners maintain an unbounded optimism, being drawn to peacebuilding (Chrismas & Byrne, 2018). We can do this. There is hope!

References Barash, D. P., & Webel, C. P. (2014). Peace and Conflict Studies (3rd Ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Bercovitch, J., Kremenyuk, V., & Zartman, I. W. (Eds.) (2008). Handbook on Conflict Resolution. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Burton, J. W. (1993). Conflict: Human Needs Theory. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Byrne, S. (2017a). The legacy of colonialism among Indigenous peoples: Destructive outcomes, healing and reconciliatory potentials, Peace Research: Canadian Journal of Peace and Conflict Studies 49(2), 5–13. Byrne, S. (2017b). International mediation: Some observations and reflections. In A. Georgakopoulos (Ed.), The Mediation Handbook: Research, Theory and Practice (pp. 336–43). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Byrne, S., & Senehi J. (2012). Violence: Analysis, Intervention and Prevention. Athens, OH: Ohio University Press. Chandler, D. (2017). Peacebuilding: The Twenty Years’ Crisis, 1997–2017. Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan. Chrismas, B., & Byrne, S. (2018). The evolving peace and conflict studies discipline. Journal for Peace and Justice Studies. 27(2), 98–118. Darby. J. (2006). Violence and Reconstruction. Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press. Dayton, B., & Kriesberg, L. (Eds.) (2009). Conflict Transformation and Peacebuilding: Moving from Violence to Sustainable Peace. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Donais, T. (2012). Peacebuilding and Local Ownership: Post Conflict Consensus Building. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Engle-Merry, S. (2008). Gender Violence: A Cultural Perspective. Hoboken, NJ: Wiley Blackwell. Galtung, J. (2010). Toward a conflictology: The quest for transdisciplinarity. In D. J. D. Sandole, S. Byrne, I. Sandole-Staroste, & J. Senehi (Eds.), Handbook of Conflict Analysis and Resolution (pp. 511–24). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Galtung, J., & Jacobsen, C. G. (2002). Searching for Peace: The Road to TRANSCEND. London: Pluto Press. Gilligan, C., & Richards, D. A. J. (2014). The Deepening Darkness: Patriarchy, Resistance, and Democracy’s Future. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Howard, M. (2001). The Invention of Peace. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Jeong, H. W. (2000). Peace and Conflict Studies: An Introduction. Burlington, VT: Ashgate. Jeong, H. W. (2016). International Negotiation: Process and Strategies. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Lederach, J. P. (1997). Building Peace: Sustainable Reconciliation in Divided Societies. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace. Lederach, J. P. (2003) The Little Book of Conflict Transformation. Intercourse, PA: Good Books. Lederach, J. P. (2010) The Moral Imagination: The Art and Soul of Building Peace. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Lewellyn, J. J., & Philpott, D. (Eds.) (2014). Restorative Justice, Reconciliation, and Peacebuilding. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Lyotard, J.-F. (1979). The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge. Manchester, UK: Manchester University Press. Trans. from French by G. Bennington and B. Massumi. Mac Ginty, R. (2008). No War, No Peace: The Rejuvenation of Stalled Peace Processes and Peace Accords. Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan.

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Peace and conflict studies in the 21st century Mac Ginty, R. (2011). International Peacebuilding and Local Resistance: Hybrid Forms of Peace. Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan. Mac Ginty, R. (Ed.) (2013). Routledge Handbook of Peacebuilding. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Mandela, N. (2002). Forward. World report on violence and health: Summary (p. 6). Geneva: World Health Organization, Online, available at: www.who.int/violence_injury_prevention/violence/ world_report/en/summary_en.pdf Oberschall, A. (2007). Conflict and Peacebuilding in Divided Societies: Responses to Ethnic Violence. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Özerdem, A. (2014). Local Ownership in International Peacebuilding. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Özerdem, A., & Lee, S. Y. (Eds.) (2016). International Peacebuilding: An Introduction. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Paffenholz, T. (2015). Unpacking the local turn in peacebuilding: A critical assessment towards an agenda for future research. Third World Quarterly, 36(5), 857–74. Peters, R. W., Lederer, L. J., & Kelly, S. (2012). The slave and the porn star. Journal of Human Rights and Civil Society, 5(1), 1–21. Reimer, L., Schmitz, C. L., Janke, E. M., Askerov, A., Strahl, B. T., & Matyok, T. (2015). Transformative Change: An Introduction to Peace and Conflict Studies. Lanham, MD: Lexington. Richmond, O. P. (2011). On Liberal Peace. Abingdon, UK: Routledge Richmond, O. P. (2016). Peace: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Sandole D. J. D. (2011). Peacebuilding: Preventing Violent Conflict in a Complex World. Malden, UK: Polity Press. Sandole, D. J. D., Byrne, S., Sandole-Staroste, I., & Senehi, J. (Eds.) (2010). Handbook of Conflict Analysis and Resolution. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Scott, I. M. (Ed.) (2014). Crimes Against Humanity in the Land of the Free: Can a Truth and Reconciliation Process Heal Racial Conflict in America. Santa Barbara, CA: Palgrave. Senehi, J. (2010). Building peace: Storytelling to transform conflicts constructively. In D. J. D. Sandole, S. Byrne, L. Sandole-Staroste, & J. Senehi (Eds.), Handbook of Conflict Analysis and Resolution (pp. 201–14), Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Senehi, J. (2016). The role of constructive transcultural storytelling in ethnopolitical conflict transformation in Northern Ireland. In J. Carter, G. Irani, & V. Volkan (Eds.), Regional and Ethnic Conflict: Perspectives from the Front Lines (pp. 227–38), Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Stahn, C., & Melber, H. (Eds.) (2016). Peace Diplomacy, Global Justice and International Agency: Rethinking Human Security and Ethics in the Spirit of Dag Hammarskjold. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Thiessen, C. (2011). Emancipatory peacebuilding: Critical responses to (neo)liberal trends. In T. Matyók, J. Senehi, & S. Byrne (Eds.), Critical Issues in Peace and Conflict Studies: Theory, Practice, and Pedagogy (pp. 115–40). Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Webel, C. P., & Galtung, J. (Eds.) (2007). Handbook of Peace and Conflict Studies. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Zelizer, C. (Ed.) (2013). Integrated Peacebuilding: Innovative Approaches to Conflict Transformation. Boulder, CO: Westview Press.

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PART I

Peace and conflict studies praxis (theory and practice)

1 CONFLICT TRANSFORMATION Ho Won Jeong

An intractable conflict tends to have an extensive history, including a tumultuous present, and uncertain future (Dedring, 1999). Bringing normalcy to interpersonal, intergroup, and interstate relations in a prolonged conflict requires the deescalation of a struggle that should eventually lead to peacebuilding (Requejo & Nagel, 2014). The dynamics of protracted conflict are not static but amorphous, shifting from one stage to another, influenced by the actions of others (Stavenhagen, 2016). Understanding diverse aspects of transforming adversarial relationships is essential for conflict resolution. Transformation touches upon institutional and structural dimensions of adversarial relationships that contribute to generating new conflicts. The abuse of one party by another, especially in power asymmetry, requires the structural transformation of oppressive relations. This chapter examines various processes to alter different types and categories of conflict relations that are a continuing source of marginalization and oppression.

Approaches to conflict transformation Conflict transformation involves the creation of self-supporting and durable relationships along with the recognition of justice as a goal. Conflict does not disappear or cannot simply be suppressed by a control mechanism (Burton, 1997). Antagonistic behavior in social conflict situations has structural origins (such as rising discontent attributed to declines in the quality of life alongside a skewed income distribution in favor of a few, for instance, despite a new revenue generated by mineral wealth). In oppressive social and political situations, an attempt to suppress the emergence of a conflict can simply mean concealing the unjust relations. Deep disparities and despair continue to feed resistance against domination and release an impulse for violence (as illustrated at the beginning of the seemingly failed Arab Spring). Most importantly, conflict resolution cannot be simply brought about by reimposing a dominant order, as has happened under the current military dictatorship in Egypt. The maintenance of order by coercive means makes little contribution to the integration or harmony of society. Despite the subsiding of the waves of violence in the Balkans, former Soviet Republics, the Middle East, and various parts of Africa, continuing ethnic tensions are reminiscent of past hostilities (Hollander, 2016).

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The control of a specific conflict may be necessary for the containment of hostilities, but its ultimate resolution should be based on the exploration of means to remove its root causes. Because the multi-faceted aspects of conflict dynamics are not likely to be transformed by limited changes in actors, their roles, and issues, a response to the underlying causes of conflict may require dramatic changes in social and political institutions, as seen in South Africa and Northern Ireland (Cunningham, 2016; Midgley, 2002). The general enhancement of societies with the improvement of welfare for everyone demands a democratic reform of institutions that can eliminate the sources of grievances. There are many different steps toward conflict resolution. First, a protracted struggle has to be controlled before settlement, by negotiation, either directed or assisted (Jeong, 2008). Yet this process would not be successful unless conflict was recharacterized as a problem to be solved by the major contestants (rather than a contest to win). In fact, an outright victory or revenge is not achieved by conflict resolution (Botes, 2003). The key to the peaceful ending of any conflict lies in the cultivation of the ability of the adversaries to manage different preferences in a decisionmaking process and produce an outcome that can at least be accepted or tolerated in lieu of a continued struggle. This process would have to eventually result in relationship changes, with a shift from being rivals to collaborators. This relationship change can, in turn, lay the groundwork for building trust that is essential for mutual coexistence and each other’s prosperity. The most fundamental initial task for conflict transformation is to examine what needs to be transformed and explore how to achieve this. A search for a mutually satisfactory solution should be based on the exploration of the causes of animosities. Thus, adversaries need to jointly investigate factors or conditions that continuously regenerate antagonistic relationships at the first place. Transformation requires patience and persistence along with a realistic assessment of issues and problems that sustain an intractable conflict for decades or generations.

Actor perspectives Dramatic system changes may proceed from actor transformations (Galtung, 2007). There are diverse sources involved in producing changes at personal, group, and system level (Matyók et al., 2011). The Cold War ended with internal changes (for instance, the rise of Mikhail Gorbachev that triggered the demise of the Soviet Union). The drastic transformation of South Africa’s sociopolitical system resulted from changes in the positions long held by white political elites and their constituents. Whereas an actor’s ability is limited in a large-scale struggle, each party has a different capacity to alter the internal and external conditions that affect an uncontrolled conflict process. In general, weaker parties (e.g., Palestinians in the Israeli occupied West Bank) have few other choices but to passively resist powerful adversaries in a struggle for survival. Detrimental changes can be brought to a weaker party. These include, for instance, the use of massive migration as a tool to assert ethnic hegemony in an occupied territory (e.g., the Chinese government’s use of migration of Han nationalities to Tibet and Xingjian to reverse the population mix) (Khétsun, 2014). It is designed to weaken the original ethnic inhabitants’ rights to their own territory. Beyond territorial control, cultural genocide might include the destruction of religious and cultural work by the subjugated groups. In the case of Tibet, this included demolishing more than 6,000 ancient monasteries and artifacts as well as an indoctrination of monks by “patriotic education,” the abduction of a 6-year-old boy designated as the Panchan Lama (whose status is second only to the Dalai Lama), and the requirement of the Chinese government’s permission to become a monk (Florio et al., 2003).

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A conflict system Evolving intra- and inter-party relations reconfigure the dynamics of conflict (Jeong, 2008). Adversarial relationships can be transformed by changes within each major adversary as well as new external circumstances. The emergence of new inter-party relationships might be attributed to changes within one or both of the major adversaries. An actor’s will, capacities, and intentions have a dialectic interaction with an external force (Jeong, 2008). An external intervention can dramatically change the capacity of each party to pursue their own goals in a struggle with their adversaries.

Intra-party politics: Internal party divisions Intra-party politics have an impact on approaches to adversaries. Despite shared grievances, internal divisions reveal differences over strategies for action (such as violent or nonviolent) so a political struggle impacts on the dynamics of a peace process. Conflict decisions can indicate a delicate balance in intra-party relationships. Hardline and moderate factions fight over high political stakes. Extremist groups favor violent struggles against an external adversary, yet the moderates are likely to seek compromise. The prevalence of hardliners becomes an obstacle to negotiation (as exemplified by the Israel–Palestinian settlement negotiations since the early 2000s). The strength of conciliatory political forces within each party is critical to any successful peace process. Thus, the outcome of an internal struggle shapes a peace process. Each party’s position is often determined by internal changes such as in the leadership as well as the political necessity to keep internal unity. Internal expectations can have either a negative or positive impact on inter-party relations. Factional negotiations are required for developing positions on diverse issues. Yet settlement factions need to have persuasive power or sufficient strength to overcome opposition of veto factions. Protracted internal fighting weakens the prospect for an early settlement of a conflict with another group. Rivalry for leadership between factions makes concession to the other party difficult (Jeong, 2008). A high-level agreement can be blocked if domestic opposition resists giving up their core issues (e.g., Israeli settlers in the occupied West Bank in Palestine). The main concern becomes how to minimize any disruption to the advancement of a negotiated settlement. The attitudinal changes of the elite must be accompanied by the support of diverse groups and the public at large to enhance the prospect for a successful peace process (Wohl et al., 2016). Unique circumstances of internal division are reflected in a political struggle over the fate of a peace process. Progress in peace talks strengthens the hands of coalitions in support of an agreement, making armed tactics far less appealing or acceptable, even from the partisan perspectives. In general, the moderate political leadership’s influence increases with a peaceful settlement in prospect. Conflict brings institutional, social, and political changes to each party; for instance, peace talks have changed the relationship between Sinn Fein (SF) (i.e., the political wing of the Provisional Irish Republican Army or the PIRA) and its paramilitary group. In fact, the eventual dissolution of the armed wing, the PIRA, became one of the conditions for a successful peace accord. As in such cases as Hezbollah, however, political representation is not always separable from military leadership. In this case, political strategies have been developed by the leadership which fully controls military structures.

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The role of external actors External actors add complexities to the inter-group relationships with their interference. Each conflict has its own dynamics, but external actors can create both an unfavorable and favorable environment for a settlement (Byrne, 2014). To prod a peace process onward, an external actor can strengthen the moderate political forces within each party. Or foreign backers might exacerbate intense fighting by supporting allied militia groups. In the current war in Yemen, the Saudi-led coalition has become the biggest obstacle to ending an internal conflict, while creating a humanitarian crisis by targeting civilian populations in violation of an international humanitarian law. When ethnic boundaries are fluid, the flow of refugees, militias, and arms across borders produces spill-over effects in otherwise stable regions (for instance, the involvement of neighboring countries such as Rwanda and Uganda in destabilizing the internal peace of the Democratic Republic of Congo). Diverse types of conflict require different strategies for intervention. Direct intervention such as the deployment of troops might be needed to respond to a chaos created by the absence of a functioning political structure, for instance, in Somalia and Afghanistan. What needs to be followed in this type of conflict is support for the development of a political capacity to overcome factional differences as well as economic projects that provide income sources for the local populations (Pugh et al., 2016). Humanitarian intervention is required for genocidal conflicts characterized by the collapse of legal or moral codes that lead to the disappearance of boundaries between acceptable and unacceptable human behavior. External intervention is demanded by institutional failures to prohibit atrocious behavior that releases unregulated violence. In fact, the 1995 Dayton Peace Accord could have never been produced in the absence of NATO bombing of Serb militias that were responsible for the Srebrenica massacre and other genocidal acts in Bosnia.

Conditions for transforming conflict dynamics In controlling self-perpetuating dynamics of conflict, what must be transformed are unstable deadlock and an unsustainable escalation of hostilities. Qualitative changes in one or more dimensions of conflict produce new expectations and norms in interactions. Rules of engagement in the fight may need to be reestablished (e.g., how each side controls or responds to unwanted violence organized by extremists). For instance, during Northern Ireland’s multiparty talks in 1997, SF was temporarily barred from the peace process when its allied militant group, the PIRA, bombed shopping malls, but was allowed to re-enter the process after the cessation of PIRA terrorist attacks. Conflict is inherently a fluid and evolving series of events; a long-lasting conflict may take on its own life, not being easily controlled by the participants. Further destruction is accompanied by a coercive struggle for unilateral advantage. As soon as violence flares up, the conflict’s stakes and expectations change, making it impossible to restore the previous status quo, as illustrated by the Israeli retaliation against Palestinian violence between 2000 and 2005. The development of uncontrollable events often leads to catastrophic casualties. Aggressive actions in a polarized environment are facilitated by the failure to control destructive forces (Atran, 2016). After a dormant period of relative calm, a new struggle can surge where the fighting ended previously, as seen in a series of armed fighting between Israel and Hezbollah. Events converge and diverge to form a stimulus for changing the dynamics of conflict. The Arab Spring started in Tunisia following the self-immolation of a young fruit vendor that triggered mass protests (Knight, 2014). This event resulted in the formation of a democratic 28

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government along with the coalition of civil society groups in support of institutional reform. The dramatic political transformation in Tunisia triggered a yearning for democracy in Egypt, Libya, Syria, Yemen, and other Arabic countries. However, resistance against the authoritarian governments turned into factional struggle that ignited civil wars in Syria and Yemen. In Egypt, elections brought a Muslim Brotherhood-led government, but their failure to appeal to broad segments of the population opened a door for a military dictatorship. A conflict can be reescalated after the control of escalation and a subsequent prospect for deescalation (Jeong, 2008). The relationship between Iran and the U.S. had warmed toward the end of the Obama administration, but the Trump administration’s hostile attitudes created tensions that could eventually derail the whole agreement on Iran’s de-nuclearization process. Each conflict has a different potential for change, either negative or positive. A sequence of necessary transitional steps needs to be discovered to manage a diverse context of protracted conflicts. The patterns of interaction between adversarial groups evolve throughout the conflict cycle. The adoption of new strategies is necessary in response to shifting power dynamics during the multiple stages of conflict from emergence, escalation, entrapment, and deescalation to termination. As part of the transformation of conflict dynamics, deescalation entails the minimization of intense hostilities and violence. Deescalation is facilitated by new attitudes with less hostile behavior (e.g., the Obama administration’s establishment of diplomatic relations with Cuba). Ending a conflict is accompanied by a shift in behavior, from retaliatory to conciliatory, signaling the reversal of adversarial tactics adopted in escalation and entrapment periods. Most importantly, resolving a conflict demands minimizing the destructive nature of negative interactions. In fact, parties have to be willing to abandon contentious strategies that prolong a conflict along with further polarization. It requires developing new interpretations of situations and choosing different strategies. The way parties behave or interact may represent their perceptions of the conflict (Psaltis et al., 2017b). Converting negative perceptions into positive attitudinal changes will eventually avert a return to violent confrontations. A psychological change for reduced hostilities coincides with a consistent move toward deescalation, reversing steps taken in conflict escalation. More conciliatory strategies are adopted in accordance with modified goals. Ultimately an alteration in one aspect of conflict dynamics is expected to entice changes in other aspects of hostile relationships (Gennaioli & Voth, 2015). A ceasefire may lead to militants allowing humanitarian assistance to be delivered to civilian populations in rebel-held territories. A process for conflict transformation depends on who is involved, and how long it will take. A settlement process is complicated by the existence of multiple parties. For instance, multiple groups representing the same ethnic group may not necessarily communicate with each other to develop a common front. Each group may bring new issues, making incompatible demands, for instance, against the government. Various factions argue about who is a true representative of their community. The presence of multiple parties also raises questions about who negotiates on whose behalf, as seen in international conferences to end violence in Syria and Sudan. The participation of new actors in a polarized conflict can bring about unexpected turns in a struggle. A wide scope of issues has an impact on a settlement process with broad arenas for confrontation. The settlement of contentious issues can be reached with each of the different factions separately or as a coalition of multiple groups. Separate negotiation tracks can be set up in a response to different conditions, and the terms demanded by more intransigent adversaries. Yet simultaneous negotiations among different sets of fractured groups tend to be tumultuous, generating an unpredictable prospect for peace. The later stage of ending civil wars in Burundi included conference negotiation sessions, which allowed joint decision-making through committee structures. In the absence of a military defeat, the disenchanted may be provided with 29

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new incentives for their acceptance of the agreed pact. In the case of Northern Ireland, the Democratic Unionist Party originally denounced the 1998 Belfast Agreement, representing the radical factions of the Protestant community, but later joined a powersharing government with its archrival SF in 2007 to the surprise of both its opponents and supporters (Jarman, 2016). Sometimes it is necessary to accept outlawed groups as official parties to a conflict even though they might have long been branded as a terrorist group (e.g., the Israeli acceptance of the PLO prior to the Oslo talks in 1993). Other examples include the acceptance of the African National Congress, SF (a political arm of the Provisional Irish Republican Army), the Sudanese People’s Liberation Movement, and the Free Aceh Movement by their counterpart governments.

Initiating conciliation When both sides are mutually ready to see a conflict subside with a willingness to end stalemate, reciprocal moves are needed to make each party move toward reduced hostilities and cooperation aimed at reaching a settlement. Unexpected gestures or initiatives by leaders might generate a momentum for a new relationship, but they have to be more than symbolic if a reluctant party is to be invited to reciprocate the deescalatory moves. For example, the release of Nelson Mandela in 1989 after serving 27 years in prison was a watershed event for South Africa, since it was a reversal act taken by the white South African government to show a firm commitment to rectifying racial injustice as a condition for bringing peace both to whites and blacks. Despite continuing distrust, opponents may moderate their hostile actions to lower the costs of continuing struggle. Benevolent actions can bring about attitudinal changes more easily when they are perceived as genuine. On the other hand, reversing negative conditions imposed on opponents during escalation may not always be interpreted as a genuine change in the adverse course of action. Conciliatory and aggressive actions might alternate for tactical or pragmatic reasons.

Resolving differences A settlement process can be hampered by a high level of asymmetry in the expectations of future outcomes as well as different views about current conflict situations. Military tactics condoned in suppressing the aspirations of minority groups for autonomy in Myanmar, China, Indonesia, Thailand, and the Philippines under the name of the “war on terrorism” are designed for the maintenance of the status quo as well as the cessation of ethnic opposition by violent repression. In the aforementioned conflicts, the governments’ denial of minority rights to self-rule has been justified under the name of state security. Sufficient concessions are needed to induce the other party to be engaged in discussion about settlement terms. Yet concessions are more easily made if they are likely to be reciprocated by the other party. Future concessions will be made easier by the past precedent of reciprocation. The demand for concessions should be within a range of the other party’s political acceptance; some concessions, involving a bigger stake, may not be tolerable and can be resisted by opposing factions within the other party. If one party has to make more concessions, the art of negotiations involves who is willing to concede under what conditions (Jeong, 2016). A compromise solution depends on a relative level of endurance of the existing status quo. In asymmetrical readiness, one party is likely to be willing to accept the cost of a settlement instead of facing a continued struggle. When talks about a settlement become deadlocked, concessions may need to be prodded by external pressure. To produce the 1995 Dayton Peace Accord, both the US and European mediators pressed each warring party in the Bosnian civil war to reduce their demand for territorial divisions. 30

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Once differences on specific issues are settled, the development of new relationships needs to be negotiated for the prevention of future conflict. Since animosities can be rekindled without relationship changes, various types of institutional arrangements (e.g., joint economic projects, joint decision-making on politically sensitive issues in Northern Ireland) need to be made to guarantee mutual coexistence (Byrne, 2014; Karari et al., 2013).

Value transformation Conflict transformation cannot ignore value questions such as how we treat other human beings. Conflict can end with a monopoly of power and wealth in the hands of one ethnic group over another, as seen in Sri Lanka and Rwanda. The outcome of a conflict might even be a forced confiscation of land to the benefit of greedy ranchers with the introduction of ethnic or racial apartheid. In fact, gross inequalities and injustice (such as the denial of educational, social, and economic opportunities) may be imposed through force (Fontana, 2017). How can conflict be transformed for the promotion of justice? Democratic principles can be adopted to preserve a newly created system, which guarantees coexistence. Agreed value principles (e.g., a mutual understanding on the basis of public interest or highly held standards) provide a basis for responding to each other’s concerns. Dignity, recognition, and other psychological and material needs should be considered shared values to be realized for everyone. The removal of institutional obstacles for participatory democracy and self-governance across ethnic lines ought to be part of a transformation process (Lovan et al., 2017). Aspirations for freedom and autonomy cannot be eliminated by surveillance, physical abuse, and other means of control (Sanchez & Sellick, 2017). The denial of autonomy and self-governance in Tibet since the Chinese occupation in 1950 has been responsible for major recurrent uprisings in 1959, 1979, 1989, and 2008. Conflict resolution as a means for recovering humanity against the brutality of oppressive power has become part of widely accepted normative principles. Respecting the rights of national groups under foreign occupation to self-determination has been a global trend along with the independence of colonial territories since World War II. Its denial has become a root cause of many sustained conflicts. The acceptance of self-determination and nonviolence has been essential to promoting conflict resolution. The independence of East Timor in 2002 followed violent resistance, a popular referendum, and institution building. The process involved a long struggle against the territory’s occupation by the Indonesian military government in the aftermath of Portugal’s retreat from its colonial rule in 1975. Value systems to support undeniable conditions for human dignity have been established by the struggles engendered by anti-colonialism and anti-racism. Legitimate relationships should be based on consent or consensus, not imposed by coercion to suppress any grievances (Requejo & Nagel, 2014). In the case of the Chinese crackdown in Tibet and the Muslim region of Xingjian, the ultimate solution to the conflict will stem from not only the Chinese authority’s abandonment of coercive strategies but also the restoration of spiritual, psychological, and religious values as well as material conditions for the survival of the oppressed groups. In fostering just relationships, bias awareness and other forms of a campaign need to be part of strategies to convince a more powerful party to abandon its tactics of suppression. A transition from coercion to partnership is needed for a transformation of the relationship from hierarchy to participation. A transformation process may involve popular protest movements calling for change and the emergence of a leadership committed to new values.

Obstacles to transformation Difficulties in transformation are derived from the structure of the conflict itself, including the types and extent of incompatibilities in the objectives of the conflicting parties and the degree of 31

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each side’s willingness to scale down aspirations as well as the relative strengths of their claims. The level of difficulties in transformation also depends on the extent to which each party perceives that the other’s gains are one’s own losses (Kriesberg, 2007). The collapse of the Israeli– Palestinian peace process is attributed to a failure to narrow gaps between exclusive claims to the ownership of Jerusalem, refugee return, and other issues considered vital to each community’s future. Fundamental differences entrenched in political interests eventually reignited strong emotions on both sides, leading to uncontrolled hostilities and violence between 2000 and 2005. By prevailing with force, each adversary wants favorable changes, but an attempt to impose one’s own positions or values on an opponent often invites a costly contest in a protracted struggle. Unfortunately, political elites as well as sectarian group leaders often adopt antagonistic attitudes toward their adversaries, reflecting the legacy of imposing one’s own decision with force and threats (Lerche, 2000). As we have seen in a recent exchange of warnings and threats by the Trump administration and North Korean leadership, inflexibility and rigidity prove not to be the main means for settling differences, but only push the intractable conflict to a tipping point close to the brink of a nuclear war that will bring about total destruction never seen before by humanity. Civilian causalities in military assaults along with economic hardships deepen grievances; the Afghan population has been alienated by attacks on civilian villages suspected of hosting Taliban forces in Afghanistan. As seen in Yemen and Syria’s ongoing wars, violence produces the indiscriminate victimization of populations in the conflict zones; armed violence is responsible for torture, killings, as well as blocking the delivery of food and medicine for those in most need, and the creation of refugees in armed violence. One of contentious issues on the road to settlement in the Armenian–Azerbaijani and Israeli– Palestinian conflicts is the refusal to give up territorial gains achieved by war. It is contrasted with the formula adopted by the 1997 Camp David Peace Accord (i.e., land for peace). When returning the Egyptian territory occupied by the Six Day War in 1967, Israel secured an agreement that Egypt would not use the territory as a launch pad to attack Israel. In most unresolved territorial conflicts, a country holding part of a rival’s land after successful military ventures set unacceptable conditions, and the other side’s rejection of such demands set the stage for another war in the future. In lieu of conflict transformation, each party’s political status and military capacities influence conflict outcomes (Gennaioli & Voth, 2015). In asymmetric relationships, a powerful party has little incentives for a compromise. In a gross power imbalance, a superior party is not eager to agree to make meaningful accommodation with the other party, preferring to impose its own will on a weaker party. Asymmetry in vulnerability may come from a disproportionately negative impact of a conflict on each party’s welfare. If one of the adversaries feels that the negative effects of a conflict are minimally disruptive, they have less incentive to wind down their efforts to achieve unilateral goal satisfaction (as exemplified by the current Israeli government’s policy toward the Palestinians). The dominant party is likely to strongly resist letting their privileged status go (Dudouet, 2015). Those who have a position of power are not willing to correct flaws in existing systems and related deficiencies (Stavenhagen, 2016). The Chinese government’s demonization of the Dalai Lama as well as its blocking of media reports about Tibet promoted the polarization of ordinary Chinese citizens’ views about the Tibetans’ yearning for autonomy. As most Chinese are subject to government propaganda and distortion about historical facts, the issues about the future status of Tibet have become more difficult to resolve in tandem with the Chinese leadership’s hardline attitudes, which have completely shut down the door to any kind of conciliatory move. There are limitations of negotiation and mediation in altering unjust conditions produced by power asymmetry. Thus, activism and advocacy provide moral and political force for conflict resolution (Jeong, 2009). In such cases as South Africa and Northern Ireland, activists and advocacy 32

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groups played an important role in reducing violence and initiating dialogue among diverse segments of political and civic groups. This process eventually led the governments to accept nonviolent political parties as equal partners in negotiation. In the case of South Africa, the change in the white government’s positions was accompanied by a decade of heavy economic sanctions and international isolation, which brought about perceptional changes in the government’s leadership and the public. Yet such activism has not been seen in the current crisis in Myanmar. Despite the importance of mobilizing the conscience of the global public, it remains as a challenge to initiate a wide protest movement that hurts or shames the political leadership of countries that continue to dehumanize and even use ethnic cleaning against minority populations. Grassroots networks and self-help groups play an important role in post-conflict settings in Bosnia-Herzegovina, Bangladesh, India, Liberia, and other regions of the world where the government’s capacity has been limited in support of victims of violence. Given the limitations of an official process, the engagement of ordinary citizens can play a pivotal role in support of reconciliation and other aspects of conflict transformation and peacebuilding (Jeong, 2005). Since structural changes would not be achieved quickly, grassroots networks can be utilized as an instrument for delivering emotional and material relief for those whose needs have not been met by many international donors (Psaltis et al., 2017a, 2017b). Nonviolent campaigns require patience, since they do not bring about a desired result immediately. Yet lasting transformation can be achieved by a settlement (based on autonomy and independence) that would in turn be derived from long-term consciousness raising and public education of the dominant party.

Conclusion Conflict transformation can bring about direct or indirect changes in a variety of social contexts beyond political institutional reforms. The process and outcome of conflict resolution have an impact on intra- and inter-party relations as well as existing institutions beyond particular issues. What needs to be transformed is a system of interaction and its surrounding environment. Violent conflict can eventually end after an enormous cost is imposed on many innocent civilians (Sriram et al., 2017). Yet we cannot wait until the conflict ends naturally of its own accord. The most challenging task is how each party can be induced to take steps toward a collaborative road to reduce hostilities once a conflict goes through an escalatory spiral. The same beliefs are not needed for meaningful changes in improving inter-group relationships (Marshall, 2016). Each party needs to be persuaded to cease activities organized to inflict more severe injuries upon an adversary. This can create an opportunity for exploring mutually acceptable solutions along with a reduction in enemy images and misperceptions (Collier, 2016). A commitment to search for a durable solution and structural changes is most needed in transforming an intractable conflict.

References Atran, S. (2016). The devoted actor: Unconditional commitment and intractable conflict across cultures. Current Anthropology, 57(13), 192–203. Botes, J. (2003). Conflict transformation. International Journal of Peace Studies, 8(2), 128. Byrne, S. (2014). Economic Assistance and Conflict Transformation: Building Peace in Northern Ireland. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Burton, J. W. (1997) Violence Explained: The Sources of Conflict, Violence and Crime and their Prevention. Manchester, UK: Manchester University Press. Collier, M. J. (2016). An intercultural peacebuilding framework: Extending the conversation through a focus on connections. In S. Roy & I. S. Shaw (Eds.), Communicating Differences (pp. 15–28). London: Palgrave Macmillan. Cunningham, T. (2016). Cutting with the grain: Human rights, conflict transformation and the urban planning system – lessons from Northern Ireland. Human Rights Review, 17(3), 329–47.

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Ho Won Jeong Dedring, J. (1999). On peace in times of war: Resolving violent conflicts by peaceful means. International Journal of Peace Studies, 4(2), 1–21. Dudouet, V. (Ed.) (2015), Civil Resistance and Conflict Transformation: Transitions from Armed to Nonviolent Struggle. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Florio, M., Mudd, V., & Peosay, S. (2003). Tibet: Cry of the Snow Lion. Documentary. Fontana, G. (2017). Education Policy and Power-Sharing in Post-Conflicts Societies. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Galtung, J. (2007). Conflict formation and transformations: Deep culture and structure. In C. P. Webel and J. Galtung (Eds.), Handbook of peace and conflict studies (pp. 123–38). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Gennaioli, N., & Voth, H. J. (2015). State capacity and military conflict. Review of Economic Studies, 82(4), 1409–48. Hollander, N. C. (2016). Trauma as ideology: Accountability in the “intractable conflict.” Psychoanalysis, Culture and Society, 21(1), 59–80. Jarman, N. (2016). The challenge of peacebuilding and conflict transformation: A case study of Northern Ireland. Kyiv-Mohyla Law and Politics, (2), 129–46. Jeong, H. W. (2005). Peacebuilding in Postconflict Societies. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner. Jeong, H. W. (2008). Understanding Conflict and Conflict Analysis. London: Sage. Jeong, H. W. (2009). Conflict Management and Resolution. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Jeong, H. W. (2016). International Negotiation. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Karari, P., Byrne, S., Skarlato, O., Kawser, A., & Hyde, J. (2013). Perceptions of the role of external economic assistance in nurturing cross community contact and reconciliation in Northern Ireland and the Border Counties. Community Development Journal, 48(4), 587–604. Khétsun, T. (2014). Memories of Life in Lhasa under Chinese Rule. New York: Columbia University Press. Knight, H. (2014). Articulating injustice: An exploration of young people’s experiences of participation in a conflict transformation program that utilizes the arts as a form of dialogue. Compare: A Journal of Comparative and International Education, 44(1), 77–96. Kriesberg, L. (2007). Reconciliation: Aspects, growth, and sequences. International Journal of Peace Studies, 12(1), 1–21. Lerche, C. (2000). Peacebuilding through reconciliation. International Journal of Peace Studies, 5(2), 61–76. Lovan, W., Robert, M. M., & Shaffer, R. (2017). Participatory Governance: Planning, Conflict Mediation and Public Decision-Making in Civil Society. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Marshall, E. O. (2016). Introduction: Learning through conflict, working for transformation. In E. O. Marshall (Ed.), Conflict Transformation and Religion (pp. 1–12). New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Matyók, T., Senehi, J., & Byrne, S. (Eds.) (2011). Critical Issues in Peace and Conflict Studies: Theory, Practice, and Pedagogy. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Midgley, J. R. (2002). Guests overstaying their welcome: The demise of the peace accord structures in South Africa. International Journal of Peace Studies, 7(1), 77–90. Psaltis, C., Carretero, M., & Čehajić-Clancy, S. (2017a). Teaching: Social psychological theory and its contributions. In C. Psaltis, M. Carretero, & S. Čehajić-Clancy (Eds.), History Education and Conflict Transformation: Social Psychological Theories, History Teaching and Reconciliation (pp. 1–34). New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Psaltis, C., Franc, R., Smeekes, A., Ioannou, M., & Žeželj, I. (2017b). Social representations of the past in post-conflict societies: Adherence to official historical narratives and distrust through heightened threats. In C. Psaltis, M. Carretero, & S. Čehajić-Clancy (Eds.), History Education and Conflict Transformation: Social Psychological Theories, History Teaching and Reconciliation (pp. 97–122). New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Pugh, M., Cooper, N., & Turner, M. (2016). Whose Peace? Critical Perspectives on the Political Economy of Peacebuilding. New York: Springer. Requejo, F., & Nagel, K. J. (2014). Politics of Religion and Nationalism: Federalism, Consociationalism and Secession. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Sanchez, A., & Sellick, P. (2017). Human rights as a tool for conflict transformation. In A. Ozerdem, C. Thiessen, & M. Qassoum (Eds.), Conflict Transformation and the Palestinians: The Dynamics of Peace and Justice under Occupation (pp. 82–98). Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge. Sriram, C. L., Martin-Ortega, O., & Herman, J. (2017). War, Conflict and Human Rights: Theory and Practice. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Stavenhagen, R. (2016). Ethnic Conflicts and the Nation-State. New York: Springer. Wohl, M. J. A., Porat, R., & Halperin, E. (2016). Unfreezing cognitions during an intractable conflict: Does an external incentive for negotiating peace and (low levels of) collective angst increase information seeking? British Journal of Social Psychology, 55(1), 65–87.

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2 CONNECTING THEORY AND PRACTICE IN THE PEACE AND CONFLICT STUDIES FIELD Louis Kriesberg

Theory and practice are two important and highly inter-related phenomena. In this chapter, I focus on them as they affect each other, in the context of the field of peace and conflict studies. The primary question I seek to answer is, how and when does good theory guide constructive practice in ameliorating social conflicts?

Basic concepts Although I emphasize the close relationship of the two phenomena, I begin this discussion by considering how they are analytically distinguishable. In doing so, I regard both phenomena broadly. Practice refers to actions taken to command, direct, or otherwise affect the conduct of others. It may be motivated by feelings of fear, by moral passions, or by the wish to advance personal or collective interests. Practice connotes conduct that occurs in a particular sphere and follows experience or training in the activity. In the context of this analysis, relevant actions are directed to alter the conduct of other people who are in contention or about to become in contention so that the contention is less destructive than it otherwise would be. Such actions vary in their effectiveness, in whose conduct is the object of the action, and in the scale of the actions. Practice, here, is not limited to intermediary or other engagement by persons who are not partisans in the conflict. Partisans may draw on peace and conflict studies as guidance in escalating a conflict constructively. Practice is judged to be better or worse in terms of its consequences. Everybody engages in conflicts. Sometimes the engagement is in conflicts that are between two persons acting individually. Sometimes a person represents a larger entity, a tribe, organization, or country, officially or non-officially. Sometimes a person belongs to an agency of one of the large adversaries in a fight. Sometimes a person who is not engaged as a partisan in a fight enters it as a mediator, ally, or other intervener. Theory, here, refers loosely to ways of thinking that are manifested in spoken or written words about contentious relations and how those contentions escalate and sometimes become transformed constructively. Theory content is not the same for all the sub-fields or communities that constitute the field of peace and conflict studies. For example, it differs between the overlapping peace studies and conflict resolution communities. It is central to the closely related fields of conflict resolution and peace studies. Theory structure varies from a general approach or perspective to a set of deductively ordered propositions or principles, and most narrowly, 35

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it takes the form of generalizations about strategies, tactics, or techniques to wage and resolve conflicts constructively. Considerable theory relating to conflict exists largely outside the peace and conflict studies field as characterized here. It includes approaches that place powerseeking and reliance on coercion as fundamental phenomena, as in schools of international relations realism. It also includes approaches based on religious faith in various traditions. It derives from overarching broad perspectives, such as functionalism, constructivism, feminism, or economics. Elements from these approaches do contribute in varying degrees to the field of peace and conflict studies. I try to judge ideas in theory as better or worse in terms of their correctness as supported by empirical evidence and their constructive contributions. Admittedly, the evidence itself may be thin and in dispute. Both theory and practice vary in the distinctiveness of their manifestation, and sometimes they are blended. Both also vary in the scale of contentious behavior that is the subject of examination, from large-scale national or international contentions involving violence to smaller scale disputes within regulated contests. Finally, both theory and practice vary in the standpoints from which they regard the contentions: as a mediator or negotiator, as a primary agent of a partisan entity, as a partisan supporter or dissenter, as an outsider with a stake in the conflict, or as an analytic observer. Although theory and practice may be analytically distinguished, in reality they are highly related and can be confounded. Indeed, a person may express a theoretical observation with the intention of changing the conduct of some partisans in a fight; or, a partisan in a fight cites theoretical insights to gain agreement from followers of adversaries. Consequently, what is deemed theory or practice is determined by who is carrying out a particular action. In this chapter, I examine how practice and theory relate to each other. One way is that theory-making about peace and conflict often derives from studying how people wage conflicts constructively and also studying when people wage conflicts destructively. Another relationship occurs when peace and conflict theory guide people who are waging conflicts. It follows that people engaged in practice and people engaged in developing good theory can learn from each other. Of course, people doing practice may act in accord with valid conflict resolution theory, but without any self-awareness that they are doing so. On the other hand, people doing practice may follow erroneous theory. Before proceeding, I must discuss two matters in more detail. One is the field of peace and conflict studies and the other is the substance of the theory associated with that field. This field incorporates several forms. A major component is the numerous academic centers in the United States (US) and many other countries. At the undergraduate and graduate level, they offer courses, certificates, and degrees in peace studies, conflict resolution, mediation, peace research, peace and justice, and other domains. In varying proportions, individual faculty members in such centers do research, develop theories, teach, and engage in the practice of the aforementioned subjects. In addition, many non-governmental organizations (NGOs) also offer training and engage in the practice of the topics noted above. Further, government agencies in many domains also provide services and do research relating to the topics noted. Theory in the field of peace and conflict studies has many sources, including diverse disciplines, and therefore displays an amalgam of ideas that are not fully synthesized. Theory, in reality, consists of many mini-theories about particular kinds of conflict at different stages. What is shared is a general approach or perspective, incorporating some general principles or ideas (Kriesberg, 2015; Kriesberg & Dayton, 2017). In addition to such core ideas, there are domains in the peace and conflict studies field that have large bodies of research and well-grounded mini-theories. This is the case for negotiating 36

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at different stages, with different numbers of sides, and in different contexts (Druckman, 1995; Sher & Kurtz, 2015; Lewicki et al., 2000; Raiffa, 1982). Mediation is another topic in which substantial research and theory building has occurred about different kinds of mediation in diverse settings (Moore, 2003; Bercovitch, 1996; Crocker et al., 1999). The topic of nonviolent action has also been the subject of great study, documenting its relative effectiveness and benefits (Chenoweth & Stephan, 2011; Sharp, 1973; Ackerman & DuVall, 2000). Finally, in recent years, considerable practice and theory has been devoted to building peace in societies that are recovering from terrible destructive wars and/or oppressive regimes (Dayton & Kriesberg, 2009; Lederach, 1997; Smock, 2002). Reference to “theory” in discussions of policy choices often takes the form of crude adages. For example, in many intense conflicts representatives on both sides assert the belief that the adversary, the bad actor, only understands force. This adage serves to mobilize support from constituents for using force or threats of force. Yet, in some instances, it may serve as a guide to practice. In any case, it certainly does not fit into any theory of the peace and conflict studies field. There is a vast literature offering theoretical explanations for the outbreak of wars, revolutions, crises, and other severe conflicts. There also are a great number of explanations for conflict escalation and for the enemy’s defeat. Much of this literature, however, examines structural circumstances and gives relatively little attention to the agency that particular persons might have. In discussions of agency, great attention generally is given to the use of coercion and particularly the use of violence. Inferences from this literature help in constructing mini and sometimes broad theories about the course of social conflicts. Some elements of those theories are part of the peace and conflict studies field. Theories, in the field and outside it, assist people in choosing a strategy for conducting a conflict. Of course, many people seem to choose a strategy with little or no conscious reflection on the theoretical context for the strategy. A particular strategy seems readily available and sufficiently acceptable for the situation so that it is readily adopted. It may feel emotionally gratifying as well. For example, immediately after the attack on September 11, 2001, President George W. Bush’s decision to launch a military invasion of Afghanistan did not seem to require specifying the objective and considering possible consequences of alternative strategies to achieve the objective. Once undertaken, persons may explain and justify their choice by citing commonsense generalizations, past history, moral standards, or even elements of conflict theory. In this chapter, I discuss illustrative cases where specific people chose policies that were consistent with elements of theories in the peace and conflict studies field, or were consistent with elements of other theories, or had little connection with any theories. I consider practice of officials and non-officials.

Practice not consistent with peace and conflict studies theory This discussion of practice that is inconsistent with peace and conflict theory begins with the US decision, widely regarded as tragic, to invade Iraq and overthrow its government led by Saddam Hussein. At every step of the way, relevant theory from the peace and conflict studies field, from traditional ideas of effective decision-making, and from international relations realist theories were ignored (Fisher et al., 1996; Mearsheimer & Walt, 2003). The decisionmaking process was obscure; it seemed President George W. Bush initiated steps toward that action and then he and others put forward reasons to justify it (Beinart, 2010). They ignored, discounted, or dismissed contrary evidence and policy alternatives. Interestingly, one empirical generalization from the peace and conflict studies field was plucked from its theoretical context and used to provide an argument for overthrowing the 37

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Saddam Hussein regime in Iraq. The generalization is that countries with democratic forms of government do not make wars against each other. Paul Wolfowitz and others inferred that peace would flourish in the Middle East if the countries were democratic, and that would follow liberating and democratizing Iraq. The evidence about the difficulties with military interventions and of democratic transitions was ignored and the consequences of invasion and occupation of Iraq were disastrous. With the election of Donald J. Trump to the US presidency, many domestic and international policy actions have been proposed and some have been undertaken, which are at great variance from peace and conflict studies theory. Whether they are consistent with any comprehensive theoretical perspective is uncertain. Clearly, he believes in the reliance on force and threats of violence as central in foreign relations. Even his emphasis upon negotiation incorporates viewing it as heavily coercive. Persuasion and possible mutual benefits play limited roles in his policy choices. Still, there are signs of some general orientations underlying Trump’s use of slogans. Consider his efforts, taken immediately after beginning his presidency, to ban immigration and other legal entries (e.g., people with green cards and valid visas) into the US from seven predominantly Muslim countries. He justified this effort as a necessary policy to fight terrorist attacks in the US. However, evidence from the peace and conflict studies field as well as from most researchers and practitioners working against terrorism indicate that such bans are counterproductive. They lessen the likelihood that Muslims in the US and outside will cooperate with US officials out of fear and mistrust. Also, radical Islamic organizations can use them in spreading their ideology and seeking recruits. It is difficult to know with certainty the reasons for Trump insisting upon such a misguided policy. A likely source is the constituency he mobilized in his campaign for the presidency. He sought to attract some traditional right-wing Republicans, such as the big-government antagonists, the white supremacists, the foreign policy unilateralists, and the celebrators of US military force. Once elected, he selected persons from these groupings to major positions in the government, often ignoring the preferences and concerns of the mainstream Republican Party. Significantly, Stephen K. Bannon briefly was a link to some of that constituency and he had been highly influential to Trump. He offers broad doctrines and presumed intellectual heft. He claims a grand political perspective about the primacy of national sovereignty and borders, about disrupting the established order and the deconstruction of the administrative state, and about ethnonationalism, which entails economic matters and cultural expressions related to Western civilization being at war against Islamic civilization. This analysis suggests reasons for Trump failing to adopt approaches that probably would be more effective in fighting terrorist attacks in the long run, such as enhanced persuasive efforts, increased humanitarian and economic assistance, and more diplomatic activity to deny support to terrorist organizations. Such activities might seem weak and Trump sees his emphasis on crude power and ethnic nationalism as attractive to his base supporters. Trump can believe that the theoretic approach he has somewhat adopted and the policies that are consistent with it work for his personal goals, at least in the short run. Before discussing policies that are consistent with the approach of workers in the peace and conflict studies field, I must note the role of NGOs. They have increased greatly in number and significance at national and transnational levels. In conjunction with many global trends, numerous NGOs are based on religious or ethnic identities. For various reasons, leaders of some of these organizations have mobilized followers via exclusive identities and xenophobic threats that support the choice of coercive and even violent strategies. Various governments lend support to particular ones engaged in extreme conflicts against hated enemies. External interventions 38

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by governments seeking to advance their own expansionist ambitions then escalate and prolong violence. Such escalations result in very many losers. Finally, I want to note that the strategies pursued by government leaders to popular challenges to their policies are very often oppressive, ruthless, and self-destructive, as was evident in recent years in Syria and Libya.

Practice consistent with peace and conflict studies theory Fortunately, the end of the Cold War and how it was accomplished contributed to many years of expansion in the practice and theory of the peace and conflict studies field. International wars and deaths in conflict have declined. Even with some setbacks in recent years, many instances of effective practice consistent with peace and conflict studies theory were achieved. After years of tensions between Iran and the US, a transformation in an important component of that antagonism was achieved. Iran had been making progress in its program to produce nuclear weapons, despite US imposed sanctions during George W. Bush’s presidency. President Barack Obama “fractionated” the complex antagonism between the two countries and isolated the contentious nuclear weapons element, in accord with an early conflict resolution idea (Fisher, 1964). Even before Obama was elected, a channel of communication was opened to high-level, conservative Iranian leaders who came together with leading figures in Obama’s presidential campaign (Parsi, 2012). Foreign policy experts from Europe and Canada also participated. The intensive talks made progress in mutual understanding about nuclear issues and in reducing mistrust between the two sides. Further, domestic changes in Iran contributed to the conflict transformation. In the Iranian presidential election of June 14, 2013, the supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei had withdrawn his support of the ultranationalist president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, and Hassan Rouhani won. He had campaigned pledging “reconciliation and peace.” Obama recognized Iran’s right to develop nuclear power and spoke respectfully of Iran’s culture. This approach made an agreement with Iran plausible and the permanent Security Council members and Germany (P5+1) joined in tightening sanctions against Iran. Consequently, negotiations produced an interim agreement, the Joint Plan of Action (JPA), which went into effect on January 20, 2014. According to the agreement, Iran would roll back parts of its nuclear program in exchange for relief from some sanctions. The terms of the JPA were fully implemented. Ultimately, on July 14, 2015, Iran and the P5+1+EU signed a long-term agreement, the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA). The agreement has been carefully monitored and fully implemented by all signatory parties. Iran without a nuclear weapons development program helps avoid nuclear proliferation in the Middle East region. But Trump took the US out. Another case is the progress starting in 1999 to end the decades-long violent conflict between the Colombian government and the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia or FARC), the largest of the guerrilla groups in Colombia. The progress included using some ideas in the peace and conflict studies field. Earlier, peace negotiations in 1990 and 1991 with several smaller guerrilla movements resulted in demobilization and the surrender of weapons in exchange for blanket amnesty for actions committed in the conflict. However, repeated attempts to negotiate a settlement between the government and the FARC were not successful. The government of President Andrés Pastrana conducted peace talks with the FARC in 1999–2002, but no agreement was reached. Pastrana broke off all talks and one of the most violent periods in recent Colombian history erupted. Widespread popular frustration led to the election of Álvaro Uribe in May 2002, who ran as a hawkish candidate. As president, Uribe pledged to dismantle terrorist organizations and restore the government’s control throughout the country. He also instituted several demobilization 39

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programs accepted by some militia groups, providing pardons for political crimes and humanitarian assistance to guerilla fighters who demobilized. FARC, however, rejected Uribe’s proposals. The government waged a large-scale military offensive, which greatly reduced FARCs military capacity, and it retreated to its hinterland. Uribe was re-elected in a landslide in 2006. Although he initiated no formal peace talks with the FARC, secret informal contacts were made. In 2010, the former defense minister, Juan Manuel Santos, was elected president, with Uribe’s support, and he promised to continue Uribe’s tough policies. However, Santos soon indicated a change and made clear that he was open to negotiations with armed groups who also were open to that. In 2011, the Santos administration secured congressional approval of a Victims and Land Restitution Law, which officially recognized victims of the armed conflict and entitled victims to reparation measures. President Santos also improved relations with the leaders of Venezuela and Ecuador who joined Cuba in advocating that the FARC seek a negotiated settlement. In March 2011, exploratory talks began between the government and the FARC leaders. In the following years, Henry Acosta, a Columbian who had experienced a chance meeting with a high-ranking FARC leader, in 1998, aided the negotiations. Acosta is an economist who had served as an agriculture expert at the United Nations. In his mediation to help break deadlocks, he traveled back and forth between Colombia and Cuba where the negotiations took place. He explained his effectiveness in classic terms: “I was patient, confident, discreet, resolved and above all transparent with both sides of the conflict.”1 The negotiations, which were publicly announced in August 2012, were extremely difficult. Constituents on both sides had deep concerns about matters of trust, justice, and compensation for damages. Soon, each side began taking substantive, confidence-building steps.2 For example, in October, the government lifted arrest warrants for 29 FARC negotiators. In November, FARC announced a two-month unilateral ceasefire and the government launched a website for the negotiations and invited suggestions from citizens. In 2013, slow progress was made on terms of an agreement and for holding a public referendum on the Peace Accord when it was reached. Despite some disruptive actions by elements on both sides, especially in the summer of 2015, negotiations continued and cooperative steps were taken. Negotiations in the context of coercive contention are possible and frequent (Sher & Kurtz, 2015). Leaders of many foreign countries and international governmental and NGOs urged perseverance in the negotiations and promised assistance in implementing the conditions of a peace accord. Various outside persons and groups played useful roles in advising and overseeing ceasefires and moves toward transitional justice. On June 23, 2016, President Santos and the FARC leader Timochenko signed a definitive ceasefire.3 On July 26, former president Uribe announced that he and the Democratic Center party would oppose the peace deal in the forthcoming referendum. On October 2, 2016, the peace deal was very narrowly defeated. Those voting no believed that the peace terms were too lenient regarding the guerrillas. The government and FARC leaders quickly modified the deal and Santos won Congressional support for the amended deal on November 30, 2016. The Democratic Center party remained opposed and boycotted the vote. The government and FARC are implementing the terms of the agreement, as this is written. Clearly, much work needs to be done by many people to actualize a widely supported peace. Fortunately, numerous NGOs have functioned to build peace in communities across the country.4 Peacemaking actions were taken at many different levels. Integration of demobilized militia fighters into society is difficult but its importance was recognized (Laporte-Oshiro, 2011). Recovery from the trauma of decades of war will take many decades. Implementation has been faulty. The struggle to end apartheid in South Africa also took many decades and the realization of its potential benefits will also take decades. For apartheid to have ended in South Africa as 40

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peacefully as it did surprised many people. The process took many years and there were setbacks, but many people, at many levels, and from different communities, engaged in policies that produced an immense transformation of South African society. I cite a couple of elements among the many that combined to initiate a fundamental transformation of South Africa. First, I write of the practice of one person, Hendrik van der Merwe, who grew up on a farm as a conservative Afrikaner. When he was young and refused to shake hands with a black person, he abruptly recognized how wrong he was and he changed. He explained his confidence that apartheid would end peacefully, saying, “If I could change, I knew others could.”5 Van der Merwe studied intergroup relations at the University of California in Los Angeles, where he earned his Ph.D. in sociology in 1963. He returned to South Africa and in 1968 became the founding director of the Centre for Intergroup Studies, based in Cape Town. In 1981, he led the first courses in applying conflict resolution to community conflicts and led in organizing conferences and associations related to conflict resolution methods. He directly initiated communication between various adversaries. He arranged regional, national, and international workshops bring together political opponents who had not been meeting. For example, in 1984, he arranged the first meetings between government supporters and African National Congress (ANC) leaders in exile. He also mediated in local, regional, and national conflicts, including between Inkatha and the United Democratic Front in Natal in 1985–6. The course of South Africa’s transition away from apartheid entailed social movements and numerous NGOs, acting in concert and in opposition. It was not without violence. Between mid-1990, when negotiations for the transition had already begun, and April 1994, when elections were held, about 14,000 South Africans died in politically related incidents (Mandela, 1994, p. 530). Some deaths resulted from lethal force used by security forces in their policing. However, many of the deaths occurred among rival black groups, particularly between the Xhosa and the Zulu ethnic groups, and two political organizations, the ANC and the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP), associated with the Zulu. Significantly, a "third force," consisting of rightwing white elements linked to the government security forces, for a time supported violence perpetrated by some of the IFP. Peacemaking practice had to include resolving contentious rivalry within the primary adversaries as well as between them. Sustainable peace generally requires peacemaking activities at the grassroots level in conjunction with peacemaking at the elite level (Mitchell & Hancock, 2012). The extensive violence endangered the progress toward a democratic transformation of South Africa. Appeals to stop the violence and even the meetings of Nelson Mandela and other ANC leaders with Mangosuthu Buthelezi and other IFP leaders failed again and again. No single person or organization could end the violence or even had the legitimacy to convene a conference that might open a path to finally end it. The South African Council of Churches joined together with the Consultative Business Movement to arrange such a conference (Gastrow, 1995). They invited representatives of all major groups in society to a closed meeting in June 1991 A preparatory committee established five working groups and tasked them to write reports for the National Peace Convention, meeting in September 1991. The reports were discussed at the convention and the result was the National Peace Accord (NPA). Twenty-seven government, political, and trade union leaders signed the NPA; only three white, right-wing parties would not participate; and two leftist, Africanist groups declined to sign, but declared their support for the objectives of the accord. The NPA provided a vision of democracy, peace, and stability for South Africa, and it also established an ongoing national network of structures to serve those objectives. It included a code of conduct for political parties and organizations, a code of conduct for security forces, 41

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a national peace committee, a national peace secretariat, regional and local dispute resolution committees, a commission of inquiry about preventing public violence and intimidation, socioeconomic reconstruction and development, and a police board. These structures usefully offered settings for persons from opposing sides to get to know each other and to work together at the national, regional, and local levels. The work to build a democratic, egalitarian, and just South Africa continues as new setbacks arise and must be overcome.

Conclusions Theory and practice are forever interactive. Some practitioners’ actions are shaped by considering a repertoire of possible strategies housed in a broad approach to conducting and transforming conflicts. But in applying ideas from that approach to a particular unique situation, some improvisation is inevitable. Thereby, interpretations of that experience may modify, elaborate, or generate novel bits of the approach. Other practitioners, inattentive to any broad, abstract conflict theory, do what seems reasonable in terms of what appears to be common sense. Over the years, many practitioners develop a body of experience that becomes their guide to future practice. Persons seeking to develop theory examine such actions and use them to test existing theory and to generate new elements of theory. There also are practitioners, who are trained in the field and are engaged most of their time in applications of the ideas. They often are members of NGOs, which are funded by governments, foundation grants, and by charitable contributions. Still other persons work as scholar/practitioners. They self-consciously do research and write abstractly about applications in the peace and conflict studies field. Alongside that, they engage in practice, employing the techniques of that field. Some of the pioneers in the field engaged in such practices, for example, John Burton, Adam Curle, Elise Boulding, Herbert Kelman, and Johan Galtung. They tried out their new ideas and developed them further as a result of their experience. Most of these scholar/practitioners also taught and trained the other people coming into the emerging field. Many workers in the field are primarily academics, doing research and teaching. Their students are not limited to those planning to pursue careers in the peace and conflict studies field, and many will work in a wide array of fields. The diffusion of the peace and conflict studies approach throughout a society certainly enhances the likelihood that the approach will be put in practice and be supported. Many of these scholars, themselves, are also engaged in practice as advocates and activists (Kriesberg, 1999; Wittner, 2007). They may do that as partisans for one side in a fight or as concerned interveners seeking to transform a destructive contention. Furthermore, individuals, in the course of their life, shift from one kind of engagement to another, from academic roles and governmental and non-governmental policy-making roles. In this chapter, I have sometimes written that a particular strategy that was employed in practice was “consistent with” the peace and conflict studies approach. In doing so, I acknowledge that the practitioner may or may not have had any such idea in mind. He or she may be drawing from experience or from widely held conventions. Of course, popularly held ideas include ideas that are part of the peace and conflict studies field. Some elements of the approach have become commonplace in much of American and other societies. Having a broad theoretical approach in mind and at hand can be very helpful. It can exist in books and articles, which makes them accessible in meeting challenges and unfamiliar circumstances. Joyce Neu, a person with many years of experience in mediation and other conflict resolution work around the world, spells that out vividly.

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In my last years at The Carter Center when I was leading mediation efforts, I found it helpful to travel with a few CAR books that served as a kind of talisman or blanket (not sure what to call them). I felt such responsibility in leading these efforts that even though I’d read the literature, in the midst of the stress of the mediation process, I would often feel like I was forgetting everything I knew and not being creative enough or not drawing on what others had already done or proposed. So, it was helpful to have a few books to sift through to ground myself and to help get my feet under me again.6

Acknowledgments I am indebted to numerous people over many years for the informative conversations that I have had about the subject of this chapter. Specifically, for comments relating to this chapter I thank F. William Smullen, former chief of staff to Secretary of State Colin L. Powell and director of National Security Studies at Syracuse University, Joyce Neu, Founder and Senior Associate of Facilitating Peace, Christopher Mitchell, and Paula Freedman.

Notes 1 www.reuters.com/article/us-colombia-rebels-mediator-idUSKCN11S23X?il=0 2 http://colombiareports.com/colombia-peace-talks-fact-sheet/ 3 www.nytimes.com/2016/10/03/world/colombia-peace-deal-defeat.html?_r=0; www.theguardian.com/ world/2016/dec/01/colombias-government-formally-ratifies-revised-farc-peace-deal 4 www.insightonconflict.org/conflicts/colombia; www.crisisgroup.org/latin-america-caribbean/andes/ colombia/uncertainty-peace-colombia 5 Personal conversation, June 1998. (van der Merwe, 1989, 2000; Botes, 2013) 6 Personal email, May 9, 2017.

References Ackerman, P., & DuVall. J. (2000). A Force More Powerful: A Century of Nonviolent Conflict. New York: Palgrave. Beinart, P. (2010). The Icarus Syndrome: A History of American Hubris. New York: Harper. Bercovitch, J. (Ed.) (1996). Resolving International Conflicts: The Theory and Practice of Mediation. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner. Botes, J. (2013). Special issue, in honor of H. W. van der Merwe. African Journal on Conflict Resolution, 13(3), 1–168. Chenoweth, E., & Stephan, M. J. (2011). Why Civil Resistance Works: The Strategic Logic of Nonviolent Conflict. New York: Columbia University Press. Crocker, C. A., Hampson, F. O., & Aall, P. (Eds.) (1999). Herding Cats: Multiparty Mediation in a Complex World. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press. Dayton, B. W., & Kriesberg, L. (Eds.) (2009). Conflict Transformation and Peacebuilding: Moving from Violence to Sustainable Peace. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Druckman, D. (1995). Social psychological aspects of nationalism. In J. L. Comaroff & P. C. Stern (Eds.), Perspectives on Nationalism and War (pp. 56–9). Luxembourg: Gordon & Breach. Fisher, R. (1964). Fractionating conflict. In R. Fisher (Ed.), International Conflict and Behavioral Science. New York: Basic Books. Fisher, R., Kopelman, E. & Schneider, A. K. (1996). Beyond Machiavelli. New York: Penguin. Gastrow, P. (1995). Bargaining for Peace. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace. Kriesberg, L. (1999). Reflections on my roles, identities, and activities, relating to conflict resolution. Nexus: Journal of Peace, Conflict and Social Change, 1(1–2), 118–25. Kriesberg, L. (2015). Realizing Peace: A Constructive Conflict Approach. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.

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Louis Kriesberg Kriesberg, L., & Dayton, B. W. (2017). Constructive Conflicts: From Escalation to Resolution (5th ed.). Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Laporte-Oshiro, A. (2011). From Militants to Policemen: Three Lessons from U.S. experience with DDR and SSR. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press: www.usip.org/sites/default/files/ from%20militants%20to%20policemen.pdf Lederach, J. P. (1997). Building Peace: Sustainable Reconciliation in Divided Societies. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press. Lewicki, R. J., Saunders, D. M., & Minton, J. W. (2000). Essentials of Negotiation. New York: McGraw Hill. Mandela, N. (1994). Long Walk to Freedom. Boston, MA: Little, Brown. Mearsheimer, J. J., & Walt, S. W. (2003). An unnecessary war. Foreign Policy (Jan./Feb.), 51–9: www. mtholyoke.edu/acad/intrel/bush/walt.htm. Mitchell, C., & Hancock, L. (Eds.) (2012). Local Peacebuilding and National Peace: Interaction between Grassroots and Elite Processes. New York: Continuum International Publishing Group. Moore, C. W. (2003). The Mediation Process: Practical Strategies for Resolving Conflict (3rd ed.). San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Parsi, T. (2012). A Single Roll of the Dice: Obama’s Diplomacy with Iran. New Haven, NJ: Yale University Press. Raiffa, H. (1982). The Art and Science of Negotiation. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Sharp, G. (1973). The Politics of Nonviolent Action. Boston, MA: Porter Sargent. Sher, G., & Kurtz, A. (Eds.) (2015). Negotiating in Times of Conflict. Tel Aviv, Israel: Center for Applied Negotiations, Institute for National Security. Smock, D. R. (Ed.) (2002). Interfaith Dialogue and Peacebuilding. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press. Van der Merwe, H. (1989). Pursuing Justice and Peace in South Africa. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Van der Merwe, H. (2000). Peacemaking in South Africa: A Life in Conflict Resolution. Cape Town: Tafelberg. Wittner, L. S. (2007). Combining work as an historian and activist: A personal account. Peace and Change, 32(2), 128–33.

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3 THEORY-BUILDING IN PEACE AND CONFLICT STUDIES The storytelling methodology Jessica Senehi

Introduction Since January 2006 and September 2010, when the PhD Program and Joint MA Program in Peace and Conflict Studies (PACS) were established at the University of Manitoba, respectively, more than 40 students have published a thesis, at least 12 of which, have been published as books. Several PACS students have emphasized the role of storytelling in their research methods (e.g., Azkerov, 2011; Thiessen, 2013; Matenge, 2013; Karari, 2014). This chapter seeks to explore the role of storytelling as a methodological approach. Throughout this chapter, the phrase “PACS students” will be used as a convenient way to refer to some graduate students or alumni from the PhD and Joint MA programs at the University of Manitoba. My intention is not to categorize all PACS students at the University of Manitoba as the same, nor to say that students at other institutions or even other disciplines do not share approaches discussed here. This chapter is specifically focusing on a particular learning community where doctoral students are giving shape to a distinctive storytelling methodology. There is a consciousness of storytelling in the PACS graduate programs at the University of Manitoba. PACS students have valued the idea of storytelling because it resonates with their own work in the arts, or their work in the area of Indigenous knowledge systems and peacebuilding, or with their concern for de-silencing and voice. There is a graduate course on “Narrative, Community Building, and Trauma.” Many PACS students have participated in the annual Winnipeg International Storytelling Festival as facilitators of story-based peacebuilding workshops with high school students, as organizers of the Festival, and/or as storytellers themselves. The Festival is presented by the affiliated Arthur Mauro Centre for Peace and Justice at St Paul’s College in partnership with the PACS programs, among other partners. The Centre for Creative Writing and Oral Culture has also been influential in creating a space for validating the spoken word. The Centre has created structures of support, such as fellowships and special events for students, scholars, and artists who are looking at the role of creativity, performance, literature, and storytelling in society. Warren Cariou (2016), who founded the Centre, writes about the significance of oral autobiography – that is, the oral transmission of life-stories – as creating social ties and relationships and as a collective performance of community identity and sovereignty. 45

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Recently, PACS alumni edited and/or contributed to a volume, Conflict Transformation, Peacebuilding, and Storytelling (Reimer et al., 2018). Often the word “storytelling” is used in conjunction with or instead of narrative. The plainspoken nature of the word “storytelling” resonates with valuing local, traditional, and/or Indigenous knowledges, as well as the role of everyday people in everyday peacebuilding. Increasingly, scholars in peace and conflict studies have recognized the role of everyday people in peacemaking, notably John Paul Lederach’s (1995) emphasis on local expertise, and more recently Roger Mac Ginty (2014) has explored everyday peace and Helen Berents and Siobhan McEvoy-Levy (2015) have applied the concept of everyday peacebuilding to understand the role of youth in activism, resistance, and peacebuilding. The thesis of this chapter is that a distinctive storytelling research methodology is emerging in the thesis research of PACS graduate students at the University of Manitoba. Students refer to a storytelling methodology in their work even as they are creating it. This method draws on and overlaps with other methodologies that seek to be critical, ethical, emancipatory, and decolonizing. These approaches interrogate the relationship between knowledge and power, and seek to de-center knowledge-making that has been mainly driven by socially advantaged groups who have more access to the academy. This emergent storytelling approach seeks to de-silence, to center, and to make visible the knowledge of people who have been silenced, marginalized, and invisibilized.

Peace research Thesis work and the work of new scholars emerging from a relatively small group of doctoral programs globally have a significant role in the direction of PACS. This chapter seeks to review what is an emergent yet self-conscious methodological approach that seeks to position storytelling as a central concept in peace research. This is a somewhat political act because it resituates the research participant from being an object of study, to a humanizing role as a subject in a knowledge-making process – as storyteller. Knowledge is socially constructed by different discursive practices – or technologies, as Michel Foucault (1993) would put it. The storyteller is in a position of influence in the social construction of meaning (Bauman & Briggs, 1990). Some practices have more authorities – and I use the word “authorities” here to indicate that there may be different sources of authority in different contexts, e.g., the authority of the academy versus the authority of a trusted friend. Authority is socially constructed and will be affected by social relations, culture, values, and individual judgment. Research in PACS is relatively broad, and few books have been dedicated solely to this topic (e.g., Druckman, 2005; Hogland & Oberg, 2011; Wallensteen, 2011; Mitchell & Vasquez, 2014; Millar, 2018). The Journal of Peace Research covers a range of topics, mostly focusing on international relations and intercommunal conflicts. As positive peace is defined as the absence of domination and the presence of social justice (Galtung, 1969), topics of conflict along lines of difference are also examined. In general, an analysis of conflict requires an analysis of power and an intersectional analysis of identity – with the goal of creating a better world. Because of its emancipatory goals, peace research seeks to be attuned to the ethics of research, and the relationship between the researcher and the research participants. Peace researchers have been mindful about the role of research in colonization (e.g., as per Smith, 1999). Many peace researchers draw on Indigenous methodologies in order to make sure that their research is appropriate, respectful, and peaceful in itself (e.g., Wilson, 2008; Chilisa, 2012). Graduate students in PACS at the University of Manitoba have particularly valued the work of Shawn Wilson (2008), first brought forward in this learning community by Paul Cormier, 46

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and then adopted in the Program’s research methods course on “Proposal Writing.” Wilson emphasizes that relationships are at the center of reality in Indigenous worldviews, and therefore relational accountability is critical for Indigenous research methods; ethical research is grounded in people’s concerns and there is a mutuality between the researcher and those who will be served by the research. Peace research resonates with the trend in qualitative research going back to the early part of the 20th century, and even earlier, that drew on rich in-depth interviews as a means to portray and understand the experience of and perspectives of marginalized people (e.g., Du Bois, 1967; Thomas & Znaniecki, 1927). Approaches such as institutional ethnography, which draws on standpoint theory, are used to unpack the intangible power relations that impact individuals and social conditions in very tangible ways (Smith, 2005). Feminist researchers (e.g., Harding, 1987; Haraway, 1989) have examined the role of socially constructed notions of what might have been considered objective science, and asked the question, who is the research for? Feminist researchers have sought to expose the consequences of gender, and have been leaders in interrogating power relations in the research process (e.g., De Vault, 1999). Critical race theory seeks to unpack the power relations that undergird the social construction of race and that position persons as “raced” (Bell, 2005). Likewise, peace research seeks to unpack and counter the relationship among power, identity, and knowledge. Importantly, these social forces occur across multiple dimension of identity, e.g., gender, race, class, and sexuality, and a consideration of Crenshaw’s (2019) construct of intersectionality is required. Queer theory undergirds research that seek to be not simply “gay-friendly,” but to de-center the heteronormative (Seidman, 1996). Arts-based research is also a method that draws on the power of expressive culture, metaphor, and an open-ended approach (e.g., Knowles & Cole, 2008; Leavy, 2018). Arts-based research has involved the creation of plays (e.g., Lea, 2010, 2012; Farrell, 2017), collage (e.g., Kirupakaran, 2013), musical works (e.g., Zalis, 2015), among other forms. Arts-based research can be a provocative and compelling impetus for change (e.g., Robson, 2012; Capous-Desyllas & Morgaine, 2018). This especially resonates with a storytelling methodology because storytelling is the basis of all art forms. PACS researchers seek a society characterized by equality and mutual recognition where no one is marginalized because of who they are. This includes learning about practices that build peace. Action research approaches (e.g., Tolman & Brydon-Miller, 2001) are often used by peace researchers because they are means for evaluating processes and interventions, and involve the stakeholders in the research process. The storytelling research methodology described here is very much interconnected with these and other methodologies. At the same time, it is a distinctive emerging frame for multimethod research that draws on diverse disciplinary traditions and methods. Increasingly, the qualitative researcher is seen as a “bricoleur” who draws on diverse methodological tools in the interpretation of the complexity of social phenomena, lived experience, and dynamics of power (Kincheloe et al., 2018).

Storytelling methodology The goal of this chapter is to outline this developing line of research and thinking as a basis of further discussion. Importantly, this is not an approach that is being proposed, but rather is being observed as arising organically in a particular setting. It can perhaps be seen as a particular frame, or perhaps a particular type of bricolage, to use Kincheloe’s term (2001). What stands out the most is, as mentioned above, that “storytelling” is a central concept for the research process. 47

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As Pat Ryan (1995) succinctly puts it, storytelling is the sharing of oral (or signed) narrative. This spoken exchange happens during the interview process. Further, Ryan writes that, involving a teller and at least one listener, storytelling is a social interaction. This represents the relationship and very personal exchange that is inherent in the encounter between researchers and research participants. Storytelling can also be seen in terms of a larger discourse that shapes socially constructed knowledge (e.g., Senehi, 2002). Written research becomes part of the “public transcript,” to use James Scott’s (1990) term, and is an influential process in the negotiation of knowledge, or even resistance or social change. The personal becomes political.

Profound respect for the knowledge of the research participants PACS researchers demonstrate great respect for the knowledge of research participants. In her research on Indigenous peacebuilding in the Inuit community in Canada and the Tiv community in Nigeria, Grace Kyoon-Achan (2013) referred to her research participants as “consultants.” She explains (p. 14): I could not think of people who graciously granted interviews and spent time dialoguing and explaining their intricate cultures as simply my informants. They had the knowledge; I was consulting with them to understand their knowledge. Therefore, consultants is a more befitting term. The language used to describe the research process encodes power relations. Researchers are attuned as much as possible to cultural norms and values. In his research on Chechnyan refugees living in Azerbaijan, Ali Askerov (2011) met research participants by building friendship ties. During this time, he negotiated sensitivities about politics, religion, gender, and other customs to demonstrate respect, and he prepared an Iftar dinner (when fasting during Ramadan is broken after sunset) for 24 people. Stephanie Phetsamay Stobbe (2015) remembers vividly when she was a small child and she and her mother were forced to flee during the US–Vietnam war. She also remembers the amazing warmth and compassion of her earlier years in Laos. In her research, Stobbe sought to identify and describe cultural ways of conflict resolution, peacebuilding, and even inter-cultural conflict resolution. She interviewed many people, including older women and men, in the Loatian language. She was able to involve more research participants with the help of research assistants. Her study brings forth, with rich description, a wealth of customs, folktales and proverbs, community rituals, conflict resolution practices, and acts of nonviolent political resistance. Wendy Kroeker (2018) had visited Mindanao in the Philippines nearly every year for 20 years when she began her research on how local peacebuilders there think about their peace work. She prepared an event to present and discuss her initial findings to a group of interviewees and other colleagues. In the discussion that followed, Kroeker recounts (p. 180): Lyndee Prieto, one of the panelists, called out saying, “Wendy, you should be thinking of hip-hop tinikling as a metaphor for our work – it is traditional and innovative.” I am very familiar with tinikling, one of the national dances of the Philippines. It is performed at festivals and significant gatherings. It utilizes the ubiquitous bamboo and fast-moving feet in a complex cooperation of steps and beats. But, hip-hop tinikling . . . this was new to me. What might tinikling, or hip-hop tinikling, say as a metaphor for Philippine peacebuilding? 48

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Through her research, Kroeker engages with virtually life-long colleagues and peace practitioners in an intentional and systematic way that seeks to grasp and is grounded by local paradigms and metaphors. As academic scholarship, this is part of an international process of theory-building that de-centers Western knowledge. Jodi Dueck-Read (2016) interviewed peacebuilders in the border justice movement at the Mexico–US border. Her research accounted for intersectionality, included diverse voices, and de-centered whiteness, maleness, and heteronormativity. The results, discussed in her chapter in this volume, provide important guidance on how to construct peacebuilding practices and relations that do not recreate the oppressive power dynamics in the mainstream culture. An important way to honor the knowledge of people is simply by doing thorough research that brings in as many voices as possible, and is well beyond what is normally required or even recommended in qualitative research. In her study of women’s livelihoods and coping strategies in Uzbekistan in the aftermath of political, social, and economic upheaval, Zulfiya Tursunova (2014) conducted in-depth interviews and participant observation in 73 households, and interviewed 109 women and 122 men. She worked alongside a research participant for nine hours planting cauliflower in 40ºC heat in order to be able to converse with a woman so ceaselessly at work in her various roles that she could not stop to simply talk. Critical to Tursunova’s research approach was a commitment to listening to the perspectives of the women themselves, and not to position them in what she argues have often been demeaning and dehumanizing ways in inaccurate anthropological and political discourses on Uzbek women. In his study of how Kenyans thought about ethnopolitical violence, transitional justice, and peacebuilding, Peter Karari (2014) interviewed 101 people, a relatively equal number from each of the country’s eight provinces. Bob Chrismas (2017) accessed the experience and knowledge of 61 people working on the front lines in various roles to address the sexual trafficking of youth. Some of those workers were survivors of sex trafficking themselves. Chrismas brings forth a wealth of information from his research participants whose combined work experience was 1,000 years. Through Chrismas’ research, the knowledge of these dedicated people will have greater influence.

Writing with people rather than about them Some researchers find ways to write with people rather than about them. Shannon Cormier (2017) sought to learn from Indigenous and non-Indigenous women what it meant to work together in peace- and community-building, and what it means to be an ally. Cormier created an advisory group that included her research participants who were able to provide guidance for her work. Paul Cormier’s (2016) research is grounded by the Indigenous idea of holism – not only as a theory to plug in a framework, but to fundamentally shape his research process and who he is as a researcher. For his study of the deep meaning of land for Anishinabeg culture, sharing circles with his community, Red River Indian Band, were videotaped. Elders and other research participants assisted in the review and analysis of the video data. Cormier describes this process as “learning from each other while we are doing.” He emphasizes that research design must include the people who are being served by the research because research is peacebuilding.

Highly open-ended interview style and conversational approach Researchers who are mindful of storytelling and their relationship with participants often take a very open-ended conversational approach to interviews. Conversations often take place in more 49

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informal settings or during shared activities. Grace Kyoon-Achan (2013) was aware that, for the Inuit, to interrogate community members about demographic details was considered rude, and she waited for information to be shared naturally in conversation. The exchange between researcher and research participant happens in the context of what Wilson (2008) calls “relational accountability.” Such relational accountability seems particularly necessary, or unavoidable, when researchers are closely connected to the topic they are studying. Eduardo de Soto Parra (2018) conducted research with men who had lived in transitional housing for released offenders. Soto Para was the director of Quixote House, and so while he only included men who no longer lived in this transitional house, he was still very much a part of the web of relations associated with the house and its alumni. Researchers use innovative approaches to provide opportunities for a fullness in storytelling. Laura Reimer (2013) drew on a story-elicitation approach learned from peacebuilder Maureen Hetherington, who used this activity during weekend encounters with Catholics and Protestants directly affected by violence in the conflict in Northern Ireland. Participants draw from a plentiful array of beads to string them together to create a bracelet, necklace, or keychain that represents their life story. Each bead symbolizes an event or idea. Reimer invited young Indigenous adults who were returning to school to tell their story through this method. Participants were in control of sharing their story and had an opportunity to reflect on their experiences in a new way. Reimer found that participants took pleasure in the creative process and in sharing their stories, which carried both pain and examples of persons’ strength and determination. Some researchers draw on the power of art. Emma Bonnemaison (2018) held a photovoice workshop over the course of several weeks for a group of women in the North Point Douglas neighborhood of Winnipeg. Women took photographs and wrote stories to go with these, which were later presented in a public exhibit, “The Voice from Point Douglas,” at the Urban Shaman Contemporary Art Gallery in Winnipeg, July 15, 2016. Charles Egerton (2015) developed programs that applied photography to promote intergroup dialogue and community-building. For a study on how Baha’i men from diverse cultural and national backgrounds think about masculinity, Egerton developed an innovative research approach, PhotoSophia, that involved portrait photography, interviews, and focus groups. Some of these portraits, with additional writing and sketches added by the men, made up a public exhibit “Being and Becoming” at the Gallery of Student Art at the University of Manitoba, September 24–28, 2018. In both Egerton’s and Bonnemaison’s projects, participants created expressive culture and provided rich, metaphoric, and nuanced insights into meanings of identity, geography, and gender.

Honoring the stories, which are often trauma stories Researchers using a storytelling method often speak with people about traumatic experiences – whether having dealt with both racism and sexism in the workplace (Hunte, 2012), working in the area of young people affected by sex trafficking (Chrismas, 2017), being affected by the trauma of combat (Westlund, 2014), suffering loss upon loss because of war and forced migration (McLean, 2013), or experiencing the totalizing power of political regimes (Reed, 2019). Such research means that the stories are valued for what is said, and not so much examined for how they are constructed as in some narrative methods. Researchers are not only conducting research but are also in a sacred relationship of receiving someone’s story of trauma. Richard Mollica (2014), a psychiatrist who has worked with thousands of traumatized people over the past 40 years, writes that telling and receiving a story of trauma is part of a historical process toward social justice. He emphasizes the significance of the relationship between the storyteller 50

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and the listener when the trauma story is shared. The expression of empathy and the validation by the listener is critical to nurturing the wellness of the teller. Mavis Matenge (2013) interviewed 33 persons who were living in the Dukwi Refugee Camp in Botswana, and gave considerable attention to what it meant to be an empathetic listener and to respect the people who shared their stories with her. She accommodated schedules, held interviews in safe places, and served biscuits and juice. She sought to be an active listener and demonstrate “patience, humility, willingness to learn from others and to respect views and values” (Mander, cited in Matenge, 2013, p. 114), and she took time. Her interviews lasted at least two hours, and one interview was seven hours. She “gave back” to her participants by offering an all-day skill-building workshop focusing on human rights, transitional justice, truth commissions, storytelling, and peacebuilding. She provided the workshop materials for everyone as well as a human rights-themed T-shirt. She facilitated a bracelet-making exercise where participants told their life story through beads. Receiving a trauma story also requires careful attention to and documentation of human rights violations (Mollica, 2014). The body of research discussed here includes a consideration of social justice, often applying the concepts of basic human needs and structural violence. For Matenge (2013), persons’ telling about past abuses is a process of truth-telling, and she considered her research as documenting human rights narratives. Citing the work of Schaffer and Smith (2004) as well the work of the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission, she emphasizes the role of narratives in advancing human rights. Kristian Fics (2015) studied the binational exhumation process in Cyprus, and was a participantobserver with the scientific team. This was often very emotional (p. 103): During the reunification of relatives with their loved ones in the “Viewing” process, I remember experiencing many reactions, as well as seeing, hearing, and feeling many emotions such as angst, sadness, crying, sorrow and even quiet deafness, among others. One memory stands out in particular, when two sisters kissed the skull of the brother they had lost 40 years earlier (p. 103): I too began to shed tears and I told myself, “Be strong Kristian,” but I realized in that moment that sharing in this powerful experience was being strong, so I too, cried. In fact, this powerful emotion led everyone in the room to cry. It was a gigantic release of what I am still not quite sure. Perhaps, our crying and release of emotions was related to a “relief experience.” This response can be seen as a shared expression of mourning and moral act of recognition and dignity to the person who was disappeared but not forgotten. Researchers are careful to refer participants to counselors or therapists who have offered to be available free of charge, or to other resources. It is also important to provide a consideration for a self-care plan for the researcher who may be affected by secondary trauma or retraumatization during the research.

Situating oneself, and reflexivity Feminist researchers, among others, have called for researchers to position themselves in their work so that their standpoint is clear (e.g., England, 1994). Reflexivity – that is, self-examination – assists the researcher in becoming aware of biases and lenses that might distort perceptions. Positioning oneself in one’s research is more than a simple statement of one’s social identities. 51

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Rather, the researcher is challenged to provide a wider narrative that encompasses not only the research participants, but also the researcher and how the research came about. In her phenomenological study of war veterans finding healing in nature, Stephanie Westlund (2012) wrote “interludes” that intertwined her experiences with the narrative of her study. In a study of women peacebuilders in southern Manitoba, Robin Neustaeter (2016) provides “snapshots” that take the reader into a moment in time, for example, going to a community picnic with her daughter Tabitha or a women’s meeting vividly portrayed by means of fictional realism. Jodi Dueck-Read (2016) shared short anecdotes from her research that generated bursts of insights. Mary Anne Clarke (2014) used an autoethnographic approach to bring her own positionality and experiences to the center of the analysis. She questions where her role as a social worker with Child and Family Services fit into a larger system of colonization, or even genocide. Her work sheds light on the nuances of identity and how that may shift when someone is more than an ally and becomes connected in significant ways with the community they serve. In her research, Clarke (2014, p. 269) shares her trauma story in a way that that led to insights and revelations: The simple act of writing onto paper has helped me in understanding new ways of seeing myself and my life, and reshaping my understandings so that I can use my experience for positive healing . . . I am long longer silent or silenced. Whether others choose to react with action or passivity, the simple act of sharing helps transform my experience into a further form, that of relationship. The process of sharing my inner realities externally with others through the written word automatically creates relationship(s). The relationship outcome for my words provides me with a deep sense of meaning that allows for healing within me. It is no longer mine, it is ours. I am no longer alone in carrying all of my experiences and emotions. This is my way of beginning peacebuilding, within myself to extend to others. While the experience of research and writing may often be solitary and isolating, in the end, participating in a public process of knowledge-making is a profoundly social act. Clarifying our positionality in our research, our peace work, and our social context, is ultimately a profound act of praxis and, as Clarke suggests, a valuable first step in peacemaking.

Telling stories in ways that make us stronger There is a concern that the retelling of a trauma story, both during the research process and through the research itself in written form, can be dispiriting, traumatizing, or retraumatizing for research participants and readers of the research. David Denborough (2008) and others at the Dulwich Centre in Australia seek out strategies for telling stories “in ways that make us stronger.” The approaches already covered work towards this end: respecting the knowledge of the teller, creating space for a group to protect the process, creating space for the teller to direct the process through an openended and dialogue encounter, and having a trauma-informed approach when receiving a story. Denborough emphasizes that it is also important to avoid or reverse internalized stigma. An important approach is to disentangle the person’s identity from the problem they have been affected by. This is done by emphasizing that the person has been affected by traumatic things that have happened, and by identifying and affirming the ways that the person has constructively, courageously, and ethically responded to those traumatic events. Similarly, Richard Mollica (2014) 52

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writes that the trauma story holds information not only about pain, but also about what the storyteller has accomplished, and “offers an incredible amount of new information on survival and healing” (p. 4). Both Mollica and Denborough emphasize that identifying and validating these survival skills provide much motivation and strength to the healing process. Lucas Skelton (2017), in his research with Bhutanese refugees in Winnipeg, wrote about the internal resources, skills, and mutual support that people drew on while at the same time struggling with horrific trauma. Sometimes there is a concern that focusing on people’s resilience may dismiss the severity of an injustice or the harm that someone has experienced. Attending to both injustice and resilience can be a delicate balancing act. Recognizing the efforts of a person or group to respond to injustice may also put that injustice in higher relief. In her study of newcomer women in Winnipeg, Lisa McLean (2013) interviewed women who led initiatives to address newcomers’ needs. She details the many losses the women experienced, and at the same time she demonstrates their strength as powerful agents in their communities. McLean emphasizes that changes in social structures are required to address the hardships and loss caused by war and forced migration. Jennifer Ham (2014) found it was important to identify peacebuilding assets in the city of Thompson, Manitoba, which is impacted by racism and the legacy of the murder of Helen Betty Osbourne in 1971. Helen Betty Osbourne was a Cree teenager from Norway House who was in Thompson to attend high school and was walking to school when she was kidnapped. Ham, a white woman from Thompson, interviewed Indigenous and non-Indigenous residents of Thompson to learn how they were affected by this event and racism, what they were doing to move toward reconciliation and social justice for Indigenous people, and what they felt was needed going forward. Ham was mentored in this work by the late Mary Young (2005), a residential school survivor originally from Bloodvein First Nation and a visionary professor of education. A rich portrayal can tell a story that is often overlooked and identify peacebuilding efforts. Christopher Hrynkow (2013) provides a full discussion of the nonviolent human rights activism of athletes during the 1968 Summer Olympics. Robin Neustaeter (2016) provides an in-depth analysis of the philosophies and strategies of women in southern Manitoba to build community and address social issues in everyday ways that are often not recognized as leadership or peacebuilding. Arguably, telling a story in a way that is beautiful also strengthens the people involved. In her analysis of women facing political violence, Christy Reed (2019) writes about the potential for telling one’s story to be a means of survival, transnational solidarity, and dignity in the face of totalizing power and annihilation. In her writing, while drawing on many theorists and weaving together many nuanced theoretical ideas, Reed maintains an authentic, even folksy, tone to this study – as if she is one person speaking to another, almost as it is done naturally, among people who are important to each other, sharing the events and people they have witnessed. This kind of telling – because it does not reduce the narrative to clinically examined data but keeps persons’ testimony held within the context of a relationship and regard – may resist retraumatization and bring additional dignity to those who shared their stories of struggle, survival, and love. Mollica (2014) finds that, in their response to events that should never have happened, the teller of the trauma story may draw insights or an “enlightened view.” The storyteller becomes the teacher and the listener is the student. Both become part of a larger story (p. 4): The obligation of the listener is to apply the lessons of survival and healing to their personal and professional lives. By understanding that they are part of a historical process, all involved in the sharing of trauma histories become personally stronger and more resilient. 53

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Similarly, David Denborough (2008) found that witnessing a story involves sharing how one is moved forward by that story. He looks for opportunities for people to share their personal narratives or for a community to share a collective narrative to inspire others who are facing similar situations. He points out that one of the greatest gifts that someone can receive is the opportunity to give to others. In her research with African-American tradeswomen, Roberta Hunte (2012) found that these women had negotiated oppressive and hostile working environments with a repertoire of strategies. Based on this work, in 2014, with Bonnie Ratner, she wrote a play, My Walk Has Never Been Average. The play was directed by Catherine Ming T’ien Duffly, and performed to sold-out crowds. For some views the play was followed by a community forum, including a live Facebook stream of participant responses to three questions about how workplaces can become more inclusive, how Portland could become a more inclusive city, and how art can be a powerful instrument of social change. In 2014, Hunte and Ratner also created a 20-minute film, Sista in the Brotherhood that portrayed some of the micro-aggressions that women face in the workplace, and which received 16 film awards. The stories the women shared during Hunte’s research, through the play and film, became part of a large public process of naming, examining, and addressing racism and sexism in the workplace.

Conclusion A group of scholars have given shape to a storytelling methodology that is a guiding frame for multi-method research approaches in PACS. This bricolage draws together threads from Indigenous, feminist, and arts-based research methodologies, among others. Such research is characterized by great regard for the knowledge of research participants, writing with people rather than about them, highly open-ended and innovative interview methods, honoring the trauma story, reflexivity and positioning oneself in the research, while mindful of how to tell stories in ways that make people stronger. Through this kind of approach, the voices and knowledges of research participants become part of more public discourses. Research participants are storytellers as discursive subjects (as opposed to objects of discourse) and are partners in the analysis and, in this way, have influence in the production of knowledge.

References Askerov, A. (2011). The Russo-Chechen conflict. Doctoral dissertation. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Bauman, R., & Briggs, C. L. (1990). Poetics and performance as critical perspectives on language and social life. Annual Review of Anthropology, 19, 59–88. Bell, D. (2005). The Derrick Bell Reader. Ed. R. Delgado & J. Stefancic. New York: New York University Press. Berents, H., & McEvoy-Levy, S. (2015). Theorising youth and everyday peace(building). Peacebuilding, 3(2), 115–25. Bonnemaison, E. 2018. The voice from North Point Douglas: Spatial justice, embodied dispossession, and resistance in Winnipeg. Master’s thesis. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Capous-Desyllas, M., & Morgaine, K. (Eds.) (2018). Creating Social Change through Creativity. Cham, Switzerland: Springer Nature. Cariou, W. (2016). Life-telling. Biography, 39(3), 314–27. Chilisa, B. (2012). Indigenous Research Methods. Los Angeles, CA: Sage Chrismas, R. (2017). Modern day slavery and the sex industry. Doctoral dissertation. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Clarke, M. A. (2014). As a social worker in Northern First Nations, am I also a peacebuilder? Master’s thesis. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada.

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Theory building Cormier, P. N. (2016). Kinoo’amaadawaad Megwaa Doodamawaad – They are learning with each other while they are doing. Doctoral dissertation. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Cormier, S. (2017). Walk with me. Master’s thesis. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Crenshaw, K. (2019). On Intersectionality. New York: New Press. Denborough, D. (2008). Collective Narrative Practice. Adelaide, Australia: Dulwich Centre. De Vault, M. L. (1999). Liberating Method. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press. Druckman, D. (Ed.). (2005). Doing Research. Los Angeles, CA: Sage. Du Bois, W. E. B. (1967). The Philadelphia Negro. New York: Benjamin Blom. (Original work published in 1899.) Dueck-Read, J. (2016). Transnational activism. Doctoral dissertation. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Egerton, C. A. (2015). Common visions. Global Journal of Peace Research and Praxis, 1(1), 101–22. England, K. V. L. (1994). Getting personal. The Professional Geographer, 46(1): 89. Farrell, A. J. (2017). Educational leaders and their witnesses. Doctoral dissertation. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Fics, K. T. P. (2015). Healing through the bones. Master’s thesis. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Foucault, M. (1993). The Archaeology of Knowledge and the Discourse on Language. Trans. A. M. Sheridan. New York: Barnes & Noble. (Original work published 1972.) Galtung, J. (1969). Violence, peace, and peace research. Journal of Peace Research, 6(3), 167–91. Ham, J. (2014). Hope, healing, and the legacy of Helen Betty Osborne. Master’s thesis. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Haraway, D. 1989. Primate Visions. New York: Routledge. Harding, S. (Ed.) (1987). Feminism and Methodology. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Hogland, K., & Oberg, M. (Eds.) (2011). Understanding Peace Research. New York: Routledge. Hrynkow, C. (2013). Players or pawns? Doctoral dissertation. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Hunte, R. (2012). “My walk has never been average.” Doctoral dissertation. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Karari, P. (2014). Ethnopolitical violence, transitional justice and peacebuilding in Kenya. Doctoral dissertation. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Kincheloe, J. L. (2001). Describing the bricolage. Qualitative Inquiry, 7(6), 679–92. Kincheloe, J. L., McLaren, P., Steinberg, S. R., & Monzó, L. D. (2018) Critical pedagogy and qualitative research. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of Qualitative Research (5th ed., pp. 235–60). Los Angeles, CA: Sage. Kirupakaran, S. J. (2013). The lived experience of novice counsellors. Master’s thesis. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Knowles, J. G., & Cole, A. L. (Eds.) (2008). Handbook of the Arts in Qualitative Research. Los Angeles, CA: Sage. Kroeker, W. (2018). Multidimensional peacebuilding. Doctoral dissertation. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Kyoon-Achan, G. (2013). Original ways. Doctoral dissertation. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Lea, G. (2010). Research in three acts. Doctoral dissertation. University of British Columbia, Vancouver, Canada. Lea, G. (2012). Approaches to developing research-based theatre. Youth Theatre Journal, 26(1), 61–72. Leavy, P. (2018). Handbook of Arts Based Research. New York: Guilford. Lederach, John Paul. (1995). Preparing for Peace. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press. Mac Ginty, R. (2014). Everday peace. Security Dialogue, 45(5), 548–64. McLean, L. (2013). “If we are crying out together, then we can remain in peace.” Master’s thesis. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Matenge, M. N. (2013). Exploring ways of including human rights narratives of refugees in transitional and peacebuilding processes through storytelling. Doctoral dissertation. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Millar, G. (Ed.) (2018). Ethnographic Peace Research. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Mitchell, S. M., & Vasquez, J. A. (2014). Conflict, War, and Peace. Los Angeles, CA: Sage. Mollica, R. (2014). The New H5 Model. Boston, MA: Harvard Program in Refugee Trauma. Neustaeter, J. R. (2016). “Just doing what needs to be done.” Doctoral dissertation. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada.

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Jessica Senehi Reed, C. (2019). The strength of the Mamas. Doctoral dissertation. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Reimer, L. E. (2013). Dropping out of school. Doctoral dissertation. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Reimer, L. E., Standish, K., & Theissen, C. (Eds.) (2018). Conflict Transformation, Peacebuilding, and Storytelling. Lanham, MD: Lexington. Robson, C. (2012). Writing for Change. New York: Peter Lang. Ryan, P. (1995). Storytelling in Ireland. Londonderry, UK: Verbal Arts Centre. Schaffer, K., & Smith, S. (2004). Human Rights and Narrated Lives. New York: Palgrave. Scott, James C. (1990). Domination and the Arts of Resistance. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Seidman, S. (Ed.) (1996). Queer Theory Sociology. Malden, MA: Blackwell. Senehi, J. (2002). Constructive storytelling. Journal of Peace and Conflict Studies, 9(2), 41–63. Skelton, L. (2017). The Bhutanese (Lhotsampa) refugees of Winnipeg. Master’s thesis. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Smith, D. (2005). Institutional Ethnography. Walnut Creek, CA: Alta Mira. Smith, L. T. (1999). Decolonizing Methodologies. Dunedin, New Zealand: University of Otago Press. Soto Parra, E. (2018). Peacebuilding. Doctoral dissertation. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Stobbe, S. P. (2015). Conflict Resolution and Peacebuilding in Laos. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Thiessen, C. (2013). Local Ownership of Peacebuilding in Afghanistan. Lanham, MD: Lexington. Thomas, W. I., & Znaniecki, F. (1927). The Polish Peasant in Europe and America. New York: Knopf. Tolman, D. L., & Brydon-Miller, M. (Eds.) (2001). From Subjects to Subjectivities. New York: New York University Press. Tursunova, Z. (2014). Women’s Lives and Livelihoods in Post-Soviet Uzbekistan. Lanham, MD: Lexington. Wallensteen, P. (2011). Peace Research. New York: Routledge. Westlund, S. (2012). Our common nature. Doctoral dissertation. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Westlund, S. (2014). Field Exercises. Gabriola Island, BC: New Society. Wilson, S. (2008). Research is Ceremony. Winnipeg, Canada: Fernwood Press. Young, M. I. (2005). Walking in a Good Way. Winnipeg, Canada: Pemmican. Zalis, Z. (2015). A retrospective/prospective arts based educational research study of i believe, an oratorio of empathic learning. Master’s thesis. University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada.

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4 THE PEACEBUILDING SPACES OF LOCAL ACTORS Wendy Kroeker

Journeying towards a sustainable peace is, at its heart, a conflict-laden process. Conflict transformation has undergone numerous iterations as language, contexts, and perceptions have adjusted in the field. Louis Kriesberg asserts that, “[t]here is no grand theory in the field” (Kriesberg, 2011, p. 52). The field is shaped by stories, and theory-building emerges from a vast continuum of interest areas and efforts. John Paul Lederach (1997) contends that building peace is a pyramid framework for considering the diverse roles of peacebuilders as integral parts of very complex dynamics. Maire Dugan’s (1996) questions regarding conflict spaces resulted in her nested paradigm functioning as an avenue for deepening the exploration of conflict. The emergence of a local turn in the field recognized the grounded realities brought by local peacebuilding actors as key to sustainability (Mac Ginty & Richmond, 2013; Donais, 2009, 2012; Tschirgi, 2004; Funk, 2012). Johan Galtung’s (2010) assertion of the need for the field to emerge convened on “transdisciplinarity” and the importance of the challenges of intertwining multiple knowledge systems towards the resolving of conflicts at many levels accurately began to frame the direction. This chapter builds on these foundations, examining local agency via intersections focused on space and the everyday with a transdisciplinary lens.

Local ownership in peacebuilding: The “local turn” Emerging as central to the core of the peacebuilding field is the attention towards local ownership and agency. Colonial and postcolonial theorists created new spaces for the discussion regarding the impacts of oppression, the breakdown of cultures and communities, and structural and direct violence (Hathaway, 2013; Mac Ginty & Richmond, 2013). Gayatri Spivak’s (1988) essay, “Can the subaltern speak?” pushed the field to acknowledge the diversity of voices required, specifically voices from the margins, for authentic exploration regarding colonial impacts. She urged postcolonial writers to expand their borders in order to “know the discourse of the society’s Other” and cautioned against speaking for others (p. 272). This shift has emerged due to the “particularly important role” of scholars, activists, and practitioners in the Global South (Mac Ginty & Richmond, 2013, p. 763). Necla Tschirgi and Cedric de Coning’s assessment of 20 years of peacebuilding is that “the nature of conflict is constantly

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changing as should peacebuilding” (2015, p. 4). Although there is diversity in this literature, in short, it highlights the need for a concentrated focus towards the role of local knowledge and participation. Kenneth Bush (1996, p. 86) says of “peacebuilding from below” that the challenge of rebuilding wartorn societies is to nurture and create the political, economic and social space within which Indigenous actors can identify, develop, and employ the resources necessary to build a peaceful, just, and prosperous society. It is within local agency that creative and sustainable avenues well worth pursuing are found. Consequently, the focus on local peacebuilding is one that holds great optimism for achieving something of depth and sustainability (Öjendal & Sivhuoch, 2015). It is within these local context spaces that the narratives “are often told differently” (Mac Ginty & Firchow, 2016, p. 309). The result is that new intersections can emerge that are “potentially subversive of orthodox and statist research agendas” (p. 309). Thus, opportunities materialize for a vibrant contemplation of peacebuilding spaces and activities (Hyde & Byrne, 2015).

Spaces for peace work The spaces in which hopes and dreams are generated hold as much possibility for challenge as potential. At times our peacebuilding efforts are “an inherently conflictual process” (Björkdahl & Hȍglund, 2013, p. 289). Annika Björkdahl and Kristine Hȍglund assert that “agency and how it is enabled, constrained, or transformed is central to understanding the power dynamics of these processes” towards peace (2013, p. 291). These authors (p. 292) utilize the concept of friction as a way to examine the contexts and agency that materialize when a range of actors, ideas and practices rub against each other at sites of peacebuilding, and these encounters create new power relations, agencies, ideas and practices that may or may not resemble their originals. In this framework, the social spaces for peacebuilding emerge as contexts for new directions and discourses. New spaces for interplay and readjusted balances are at work within the “everyday lives of the people” (p. 289). Conflict may be inherent but outcomes cannot be assumed to be negative within that space. Henri Lefebvre asserts that the forms of social space are “encounter, assembly, simultaneity” (1991, p. 101). Communities are gathered in spaces foundationally historic, such that the “space is never empty: it always embodies a meaning” (p. 154). John Paul Lederach’s (2005, p. 47) writing evokes social spaces as “platforms” for the work of peacebuilding. Peace work domains, with this framing, embody a context-based, permanent, and dynamic platform capable of non-violently generating solutions to ongoing episodes of conflict, which they will experience in the ebb and flow of their social, political, and economic lives. It is here that actors, discourses, ideas, and energies are generated for enterprises of peace where local agency is enacted. The “ebb and flow” requires long-term commitment and to be sustained by a diversity of ideas and relationships for the peace to be sustainable. 58

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Jobb Arnold (2014) utilizes Hakim Bey’s (1991) concept of temporary autonomous zones (TAZs) as transitory moments/spaces for peacebuilding that allow for social experimentation and disruption of the status quo – that can “allow for the creation of compelling alternatives that tap into local cultural discourse” and empower local actors for new tasks and perspectives (Arnold, 2014, p. 60). This approach to peacebuilding permits actors, especially local actors who know the context, to focus intently on the opportunities for peacebuilding that present themselves in a particular moment and context and to add a deliberate responsiveness to their plans. Lefebvre also iterates that in these moments “everything that there is in space, everything that is produced either by nature or by society, either through their co-operation or through their efforts” becomes part of the potential for change and growth (1991, p. 101). This provides opportunities for participants in the conflict context to offer support to each other in these spaces. This enables new activities toward sustainable peace to emerge.

The complexities of defining peace and peacebuilding The question of the nature of the peace being sought needs to be explored not only in order to determine the direction of peacebuilding interventions, but also as a vehicle for acknowledging the significance of the subject point and social location within the discourse. Oliver P. Richmond and Jason Franks (2009) assert that in order to determine the range of peacebuilding activities it is imperative to articulate the type of peace being sought (p. 1). Given that “the answers will, to a large extent, determine what sorts of intervention we design,” the exploration regarding a definition of peace is a valuable precursor to the discussion of specific peacebuilding methodologies for local actors (Cheldelin et al., 2008, p. 15). The foundational premise of this chapter is that sustainable peace requires significant local actor efforts and involvement. Thus, the question regarding whose view of peace is privileged is a crucial consideration because “[p] ut simply, bottom-up and top-down views of peace and conflict often rely on different sources of information” (Mac Ginty & Firchow, 2016, p. 308). This opens up potentially significant new perspectives and possibilities. It remains difficult to define what peace is and “who creates and promotes it and who peace is for” (Richmond, 2005, p. 15). Peace is situated in a particular time and context and, as such, can’t be “assumed to be monolithic and universal” (p. 16). The contemplation of cultural, economic, political, and social conditions is required when considering the focus of the needed peace. Peace is a fluid, context-based, value-laden term, held profoundly in each community, and yet “very little effort is expended upon conceptualizing the essential qualities of peace” (Richmond, 2004, p. 136). Is it possible to direct peacebuilding efforts without thinking about the kind of peace that is sought? Aggestam and Björkdahl would say it is not possible and that peacebuilding is under critique precisely because there is a lack of clarity over “the kind of peace that is promoted and whom the peace serves” (2013, p. 197). The focus of peacebuilding from below highlights peace that is locally lodged and relevant. Michel Foucault pondered the challenges of speaking into a context and acknowledged that one’s every word choice is an indicator of the perspective from which one comes (1972, p. 216): I am supposing that in every society the production of discourse is at once controlled, selected, organised and redistributed according to a certain number of procedures, whose role is to avert its powers and its dangers, to cope with chance events, to evade its ponderous, awesome materiality. 59

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Foucault’s perspective is significant for this discussion because of the observation that there are systemic “rules” indicating what’s in and what’s out, what can be said and what cannot. Bill Ashcroft, Gareth Griffiths, and Helen Tiffin (2000) assert that “[i]t is through discourse itself that the world is brought into being,” indicating that the language used plays a large role in the emergence of practice (p. 62). Actors who are not attuned to the local political realities can simply create a new set of unjust systems. The ambiguities and challenges in defining peace are both great and wide. There is no room for naïveté in the task of defining peace for contexts of conflict. The layers are complex and the stakes, in today’s world, for achieving peace are high. Peacebuilding is no easier a matter in terms of definitions. Thania Paffenholz indicates that “peacebuilding is essentially the process of achieving peace” (2010, p. 44). Moreover, Lisa Schirch (2008, p. 4) highlights that the peacebuilding definition runs a spectrum from focusing on specific post-conflict activities to broad analysis of the stages of conflict. Over time communities have developed mechanisms to work with the conflicts of their contexts, be it through elder councils or organized dialogues (Paffenholz, 2010, p. 45). Paffenholz’s view of the development of the peacebuilding field is that, in the wake of World Wars I and II, nationstates and organizations participated as the main contributors to the activities of peacebuilding. The formal peace research field began to emerge in the 1960s. Galtung’s (1975) essay, “Three approaches to peace,” was the first to use the term peacebuilding (Galtung, 1975, in Paffenholz, 2010, p. 45). Galtung assessed that structural violence needed to be addressed in order for peace to be achieved. According to many observers, it was Boutros-Ghali’s (1992) definition of peacebuilding, in An Agenda for Peace, as the “construction of a new environment” that created new angles with which to view the activities of state-oriented conflict interventionists and popularized the use of the term peacebuilding (p. 16, par. 57; Smith, 2004, p. 19). Boutros-Ghali’s attention to peacebuilding emerged out of a realization that war and conflict events created a legacy of destroyed infrastructure and relationships. Early peacebuilding perspectives envisioned states moving from a place of negative peace (absence of war) to positive peace (social justice) by seeking out deeper approaches to social, political, and economic issues. Boutros-Ghali’s report contextualized peacebuilding as a post-conflict strategy and framework for nation-state activities. From this definition peacebuilding activities emerged, for example, as “disarming, destroying weapons, repatriating refugees, training security forces, monitoring elections, and advancing the protection of human rights” (Paffenholz, 2010, pp. 45–6). Paffenholz’s assessment of the legacy of this document is that peacebuilding became focused on short-term measures without an eye toward longer term needs to sustain peace (p. 46). Peacekeeping became intertwined with state-oriented peacebuilding activities, influenced by a discourse of peace lodged within the liberal democratic peace camp, often situated far from local realities. The peacebuilding field has continued to develop dramatically in terms of scholarship and practice (Zelizer & Rubenstein, 2009). It refers to numerous tools, methods, and time frames. Peacebuilding work can encompass multi-country missions or grassroots women’s organizations conducting mediation trainings. Peacebuilding work is also transformational revolutions, such as the Arab Spring and Idle No More movements. The range of discourse in peacebuilding also includes a discussion of appropriate stakeholders, use of military forces, role of international interveners, good governance, or impacts of community capacity building. As the definition widens, the voices engaged in this discussion have become varied by context and social location and continue to grow and expand. Schirch (2008, p. 1) asks whether “peace is something to be kept, made or built?” Her work in strategic peacebuilding began with her interactions with her students, people coming from 60

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a wide range of conflict contexts. She defines peacebuilding as that which “seeks to prevent, reduce, transform, and help people recover from violence in all forms, even structural violence that has not yet led to massive civil unrest” (p. 9). Peacebuilding becomes strategic upon the recognition of the complexity of the tasks required to build peace. Kevin Clements (2004, p. 14) also views strategic peacebuilding as requiring “higher levels of collaboration.” What does collaboration imply? Who will be privileged in the process of this coordination? What voices will be part of that process? Is this a network or centralized leadership? Clements asserts that civil society stakeholders are a vital part of the process, along with development and conflict resolution experts (p. 14). Overarching issues regarding the role of power and de-colonial thinking are also crucial to substantive conversations regarding sustainable peacebuilding. John Paul Lederach (1997) asserts that peacebuilding needs to be more than “postaccord reconstruction” and views peacebuilding as that which utilizes all possible processes in order to transform conflict and move towards peaceful relationships. This approach frames peacebuilding as a “dynamic social construct” (p. 20). Lederach outlines an integrated framework for constructing peace in situations of armed conflict and presents “analytical lenses” to “address structural issues, social dynamics of relationship building, and the development of a supportive infrastructure for peace” to create a comprehensive approach (p. 21). Peacebuilding must be grounded in current realities articulated by a range of voices, and players, and be oriented towards building relationships. It is essential to develop the capabilities to address and recognize conflict at early stages. How then is peacebuilding to be defined? Bottom-up peacebuilding is a generation of efforts reflecting the traditional and social contexts so that the local becomes a central consideration (Lederach, 1997). Aggestam and Björkdahl’s evaluation is that the significant question for peacebuilding is whether it can contribute to “profound change, greater justice and well-being” (2013, p. 204). Schirch (2008, p. 15) also asserts that the integrity of peacebuilding is linked to the discussion of root causes and sustainable peace. Thus, the peacebuilding discussion would indicate that wellbeing is a value-laden term and dependent on the voices dominant within the evaluative process. Local actors need to emerge as prime contributors to perspectives essential for sustainable peace platforms (Senehi, 2010). This chapter works with a view to a contextsensitive definition, asserting that without a broad range of stakeholders significantly engaged at the local the peacebuilding impact will be limited.

Everyday resistance and peacebuilding At the centre of this type of peacebuilding is the “everyday,” looking to nurture understanding, empathy, and trust (Bleiker, 2012, p. 298). Everyday peacebuilding – “the routinized practices used by individuals and collectives as they navigate their way through life in a deeply divided society” – is a concept that enhances and integrates richly with the significance of the locally engaged actor in peacebuilding (Mac Ginty, 2014, p. 2). The everyday concept honours the lives and ambitions of local actors in a conflict context and has been the focus of much of Roger Mac Ginty’s recent work (Mac Ginty, 2014; Mac Ginty & Firchow, 2016). This idea of the “everyday” has been the spotlight in a range of disciplines. Viewing peacebuilding through this lens takes seriously Galtung’s (2010) call for transdisciplinary analysis at multiple levels. Feminist Betty Friedan (1963) opened The Feminine Mystique with a first chapter titled, “The problem that has no name” (p. 15). She introduced the notion of the banality of everyday activities as defining for a particular sector. In addition, Ben Highmore’s (2002) approach to the concept of the everyday refers to “those practices and lives that have traditionally been left out of historical accounts . . . It becomes shorthand for voices from ‘below’: women, children, 61

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migrants and so on” (p. 1). It can be an avenue for addressing legacies of colonization, the challenges of de-colonizing, and analyzing dynamics of power. The intersection points of the literature of everyday resistance (Scott, 1985, 1990; Foucault, 1978; de Certeau, 1984; AbuLughod, 1990; Vinthagen & Johansson, 2013) and everyday peacebuilding (Mac Ginty, 2011, 2013, 2014; Richmond, 2011, 2016) can prove helpful in creating capacity for reflecting on the range of the types of spaces existent for peacebuilding work. Michel Foucault (1978) asserts that “[w]here there is power, there is resistance” (pp. 95–6). Resistance scholar Lila Abu-Lughod (1990) builds on Foucault’s work by asserting that “where there is resistance, there is power” (p. 42). Galtung’s (2010) work emphasizes that looking for various entry points for better understanding the nature of violence in order to understand peace structures is crucial to enhancing peace studies (p. 22). Peacebuilding is strengthened within this conversation of resistance. What might be the intersection of the everyday resistance literature for contemplating everyday peacebuilding and the strengthening of local agency?

Everyday resistance Anthropologist James Scott’s (1985) theory of the hidden transcripts of life that inspired his work on everyday resistance emerged from two years of ethnographic research in a Malaysian village and was articulated in Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance. He (p. 29) asserts that it is important to understand what we might call everyday forms of peasant resistance, the prosaic but constant struggle between the peasantry and those who seek to extract labor, food, taxes, rents, and interest from them. Most of the forms this struggle takes stop well short of collective outright defiance. Everyday resistance is a “practice” and “needs to be understood as intersectional,” thus creating space for overlap with feminist and postcolonial studies (Vinthagen & Johansson, 2013, p. 1). Scott’s use of the term “transcripts” indicates that these are conversations held within the community. The public transcripts are those “open interaction[s] between subordinates and those who dominate” (Scott, 1990, p. 2). The public conversations do not tell us everything about the power relations within a context. The “hidden transcript” signifies the discourse that is “beyond direct observation by powerholders” (p. 4). These are not organized methods of rebellion, and are rather actions that can easily be missed but are in no way less powerful. As such, Scott’s (1985) definition of resistance ultimately allows the inclusion of forms of resistance that cover both individual and collective actions and converge his interests on the intentions of the actors (pp. 290–2). Roland Bleiker’s (2003) discussion of human agency is helpful within this field regarding actions of resistance. He defines human agency as “how people may or may not be able to influence their environment” (p. 25). Although the dynamics of context, culture, and identity are also significant factors in human agency, this definition emphasizes that the everyday actions move people towards influencing their environment. “Everyday forms of resistance make no headlines” but the actions do raise voices that are often muted (Scott, 1985, p. 36). This is a significant component in the discussion of the role of local actors. Stellan Vinthagen and Anna Johansson (2013) emphasize that the discussion of everyday resistance “suggests that resistance is integrated into social life and is a part of normality; not as dramatic or strange as assumed – even if it is still unclear how common it is” (p. 3). Looking at resistance from this perspective lodges it as locally “embedded resistance” (Mihelich & Storrs, 62

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2003, p. 41). John Mihelich and Debbie Storrs (2003, p. 41) describe it as an “almost unwitting resistance” in which subalterns influence the nature of the hegemonic structure as they broaden their roles by working within the system . . . [and] continue to embrace their role in the hegemonic system, and because, in hegemonic fashion, they are not motivated by a consciously articulated resistance. It is a space of mostly unconscious dissonance as it encompasses actions and opposition with, often, positive intentions for the actions of resistance. Although there is diversity within the field of everyday resistance, perhaps there is enough agreement to say that “[r]esistance is always situated, in a context, a historic tradition, a certain place and/or social space forged by those who rebel” (Vinthagen & Johansson, 2013, p. 14). This space is intertwined with cultural connections, memories of leaders of the past, and historical legacy – all coming together to shape the actions that ensue. Jesuit scholar Michel de Certeau (1984) is another voice in the everyday resistance field. His work harkens back to Foucault’s (1980) proposal that “power is a set of relations” (p. 2). The focus for de Certeau is centred on a discussion of “tactics” depending “on time” given that it does “not have a place” (1984, p. xix). Thus, this resistance has to be nimble and “is always on the watch for opportunities that must be seized. . . . Whatever it wins, it does not keep” (p. xix). What emerges is a “contract with ‘the other’ (the interlocutor) in a network of places and relations” (p. xiii). This ability to navigate the present realities indicates that everyday resistance holds knowledge regarding the “way of using imposed systems” (p. 18). In this approach, the local actor holds much of the knowledge and creativity in thinking that becomes a significant aspect of the success of the resistance actions.

Everyday peacebuilding The links between everyday resistance and everyday peacebuilding are important to attend to and build upon. Although holding some similarities in concept, everyday peacebuilding pushes forward from the spaces described by everyday resistance towards deliberate examination of the assets present in the community. The nimbleness of navigating possible avenues for change becomes compelling in conflict contexts. Arnold (2014) views nimbleness as key in the emergent spaces for alternative movements and possibilities. His research on the role of “temporary autonomous zones” surfaced potential methods of creating social change (p. 4). He describes these zones as a “praxis-oriented tactic that uses social disruption to create immediately realizable social change” (p. 4). Given that these are temporary zones, moments in time, they are not oriented to sweeping revolutionary results but a recognition of everyday types of opportunities utilizing the opportunities in the moment. These are small moments that hold the “possibility for deep individual transformations that may not fit well within the dominant discourses of peace and prosperity” but can contribute to ongoing strategies for social change (p. 4). Arnold sees utility in this model as especially poignant in contexts of community trauma. Post-conflict, the society is still plagued by the uncertainty created by the political instability. Moments that hold potential for change are necessary. Responding merely with broad state-level processes will create a “‘thin’ description of culture and health [that] fails to account for the broad spectrum, profound force and irreducible meanings” of the events that took place (p. 52). Local peacebuilders attuned to these spaces of opportunity can assist in the identification of moments for change. 63

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These emergent spaces are possible within everyday actions. Mac Ginty (2014) views everyday peace as “the routinized practices used by individuals and collectives as they navigate their way through life in a deeply divided society” (p. 2). Yet, it is not simply a matter of repeating one’s daily activities and hoping for change to occur. It is “a form of agency. It is not something that people always and necessarily engage in. It relies on opportunities and context, as well as the ability of individuals and groups to exploit these” (p. 3). This might appear, initially, to be “beguilingly simple,” but requires a mindfulness towards the desire for change and openness to observe the potential in given interactions (p. 3). The local actor is well placed for this required attentiveness. Thus, Mac Ginty (2014) cautions that “our consideration of everyday peace must also be viewed through the lens of power” (p. 3). Moreover, Richmond (2010) asserts that “foregrounding the ‘everyday’ is so significant” because of its considerable connection “with hidden agency and with resistance” (p. 669). The technologies of power and legitimacy utilized in the pursuit of statebuilding are even “designed to distance the everyday lives of post-conflict individuals” as “a classically colonial intellectual move” to thwart the “emancipatory claims” (p. 668). What happens, though, within these tensions is that what emerges is “discursive ‘webs of meaning’” that emphasize a local context if the attentiveness is in some way held vigil (p. 668). The everyday is a deep space, anthropologically speaking, where the dynamics of local needs are considered by locals and unconsciously, or consciously, strategies and problemsolving activities are implemented. Thus, Homi Bhabha (1994) writes that providing opportunities to express memories might provide the catalyst to enable the creation of a fragile bridge between the age of colonialism and the progression towards constructive cultural identity. Although this process can be “a painful re-membering, a putting together of the dismembered past to make sense of the trauma of the present,” it provides for rich text in the de-colonial journey (p. 63). Simply forgetting the past will not be sufficient for moving forward. Change requires authentic grappling with what has transpired. Bhabha’s (1994) work on culture and everyday interactions and Spivak’s (1988) assertions on the subaltern are essential within the discussion of the everyday. Although the temptation is to describe everyday peacebuilding as a set of “banal” activities, this must be avoided. Rather, it must be noticed that the stakes are high and the challenges to power immense. Consequently, what emerges as a possibility from everyday acts of resistance, and is significant for this chapter, is the idea of the everyday “represent[ing] an alternative site of knowledge for peacebuilding” (Richmond, 2009, p. 571). This signifies the transformation of local actors “from being mere subjects to being active citizens in the peacebuilding process” (Galvanek, 2013, p. 15). This peacebuilding is “unencumbered by hegemonic institutions” and achieves a mobility able to shape a necessary path while calling for an accountability to the needs of the everyday context (Richmond, 2010, p. 677). Consequently, Lederach (2005) asserts that “if we are to survive as a global community, we must understand the imperative nature of giving birth and space to the moral imagination in human affairs” (p. 172). New possibilities do not emerge from nothing, it is the mindfulness towards one’s environment that will make it so. Peacebuilding is a complex mix of activities. Scott’s (1990) term “infrapolitics” opened space to discuss forms of resistance initiated by those part of subordinate groups (p. 19). This space is not one of defeatism but of revealing alternatives to what might be presumed as singularly dominant. Scott sees as essential that there is space for “probing the boundaries” of action that will open possibilities (p. 200). To be clear, the peacebuilding intention is to find ways for emancipation via methods that enable responses defined by flexibility and resourcefulness. 64

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Conclusion The expanse of perspectives on peacebuilding is vast. This chapter has attended to the roles given to local actors in peacebuilding through attention to various knowledge bases as helpful intersection points in the immensity of the task towards building wellbeing. The importance of this exploration is that when we do so, “we can confront the dominant narrative” (Mac Ginty, 2014, p. 4). It is clear, through probing the various perspectives of whose peace, what peace, and who will act on the peace, that a “deep” foundation, or persistence, is necessary within the discussion of the role of local actors and the frameworks that enhance peacebuilding processes. This proposes that those landscapes closest to us need to be seen with new eyes. Peacebuilding efforts towards consequence and meaning will hold great potential with journeys that build on assets already present.

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The peacebuilding spaces of local actors Richmond, O. P. (2010). Resistance and the post-liberal peace. Millennium: Journal of International Studies, 38(3), 665–92. Richmond, O. P. (Ed.) (2011). A Post-Liberal Peace. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Richmond, O. P. (2016). Peace Formation and Political Order in Conflict Affected Societies. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Richmond, O. P., & Franks, J. (2009). Liberal Peace Transitions: Between Statebuilding and Peacebuilding. Edinburgh, UK: Edinburgh University Press. Schirch, L. (2008). Strategic peacebuilding – state of the field. Peace prints. South Asian Journal of Peacebuilding, 1(1), 1–17. Scott, J. C. (1985). Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Scott, J. C. (1990). Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Senehi, J. (2010). Building peace: Storytelling to transform conflicts constructively. In D. J. D. Sandole, S. Byrne, I. Sandole-Staroste, & J. Senehi (Eds.), Handbook of Conflict Analysis and Resolution (pp. 201–14). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Smith, D. (2004). Towards a strategic framework for peacebuilding: Getting their act together. Overview report of the Joint Utstein Study of Peacebuilding. Oslo: PRIO – International Peace Research Institute. www.regjeringen.no/globalassets/upload/. . ./210673-rapp104.pdf Spivak, G. (1988). Can the subaltern speak? In C. Nelson & L. Grossberg (Eds.), Marxism and the Interpretation of Culture (pp. 271–313). Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Tschirgi, N. (2004). Post-conflict peacebuilding revisited: Achievements, limitations, challenges. Paper presented at the WSP International/IPA Peacebuilding Forum Conference, Oct. 7. www.operationspaix. net/DATA/DOCUMENT/5766~v~Post-conflict_Peacebuilding_Revisited.pdf Tschirgi, N., & de Coning, C. (2015). Ensuring sustainable peace: Strengthening global security and justice through the un-peacebuilding architecture. Background paper. Washington, DC and The Hague: Commission on Global Security, Justice and Governance. www.stimson.org/sites/default/ files/Commission_BP_Tschirgi_De-Coning.pdf UN (2001). UN Security Council Statement, S/PRST/2001/5 of 20 February 2001. www.security councilreport.org/atf/cf/%7B65BFCF9B-6D27-4E9C-8CD3-CF6E4FF96FF9%7D/PKO%20 SPRST%202001%205.pdf Vinthagen, S., & Johansson, A. (2013). Everyday resistance: Exploration of a concept and its theories. Resistance Studies Magazine, 1(1), 1–46. Zelizer, C., & Rubenstein, R. A. (2009). Introduction. In C. Zelizer and R. A. Rubenstein (Eds.), Building Peace: Practical Reflections from the Field (pp. 115). West Hartford, CT: Kumarian Press.

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5 PEACE STUDIES AND CONFLICT RESOLUTION Patrick G. Coy, Landon E. Hancock, and Anuj Gurung

Peace studies and conflict resolution describe an inter-related set of theories and practices, stemming from political science, international relations, labor relations, communication studies, and sociology. What binds this into a coherent whole is the commitment to addressing problems resulting from destructive conflict processes at various levels ranging from the individual to the structural (cf. Deutsch, 1973). This primary principle of addressing problems has led to many studies on the ethics of intervention practice. Authors such as Laue and Cormick (1978), Anderson (1999), Fast et al. (2002) and Neufeldt (2014) have argued that interveners need to address issues of social justice underlying conflicts, while attending to power differentials between parties, and critically examining their own power as interveners. This broader understanding leads to the two key principles that contribute to effective conflict resolution practice at all levels: a commitment to social justice to secure stable resolutions to conflict; and the principle of empowerment for parties to generate and implement solutions for conflicts.

The dual commitment to social justice and to empowerment An uneasy tension has long existed in the peace and conflict studies field between two values: the resolution of conflicts and the achievement of social justice (Gawerc, 2006). The tension is rooted in the fact that prioritizing the former has too often frozen structurally rooted injustices, sowing the seeds for future spin-off conflicts. As the field has developed and matured we have discovered that a constructive engagement and a creative tension between conflict resolution and peace with justice has often been the best our field could hope for. We now also know that, given the complexities of social conflicts, achieving that creative tension is a laudable outcome, not a mere consolation prize. The practice of conflict resolution is similar in some respects to the practice of medicine (Kriesberg, 1999). A doctor cannot only facilitate healing, cures, and recovery. With a poorly timed intervention, a mistaken diagnosis, or a faulty prescription the patient’s condition can worsen exponentially. Conflict interveners face similar risks, which is why the professional mandate to “do no harm” is a widely accepted principle in medicine as well as conflict resolution and peacebuilding (Anderson, 1999). One critical aspect of doing no harm includes not entrenching power differentials that disadvantage already marginalized parties. For Laue and Cormick the central question was crystal clear: “Does the intervention contribute to the ability 68

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of relatively powerless individuals and groups in the situation to determine their own destinies to the greatest extent possible” (1978, p. 217)? Similarly, for Gandhi the aim of conflict engagement was not to reach a resolution so much as for the parties to achieve dignity and self-realization (Weber, 1991, 2001). Adam Curle’s social conflicts progression model aims for “sustainable peace” as the outcome, i.e., where structural injustices are mitigated if not removed and conflict parties may reach their fullest human potential (Clark & Coy, 2015). Put another way, agency, self-determination, and being able to freely choose one’s own destiny – particularly for traditionally disadvantaged parties – are central ethical concerns in all conflict resolution practices (Hancock, 2016; Hedeen, 2004). For interveners, this is the difference between aiming for the illusory goal of being an impartial neutral (see Mayer, 2004) and shouldering the realistic yoke of fair-minded advocacy. Even the attempt to strive for impartial neutrality can easily result in weaker parties being co-opted into processes and agreements that do not accord with their genuine interests (Modavi, 1996). This is why Quaker mediators often aim for a “balanced partiality” (Williams & Williams, 1994) that helps ensure all parties’ voices, are heard, engaged with, and even heeded. Empowerment is often a necessary component of advocacy on behalf of sustainable peace. Empowerment helps create conditions where people can develop critical perspectives, gain control over their lives, and become co-equal participants in their relationships, communities, and networks. For practitioners, sometimes this means providing various kinds of resources to those parties most in need, such as providing conflict coaching (Jones & Brinkert, 2008), codeveloping conflict maps (Wehr, 1979), or drawing conflict trees (Fisher et al., 2000). These tools aid the development of the critical consciousness that is so foundational to empowerment (Freire, 1990). Ethos of empowerment is particularly salient in family and divorce mediation. In the early years of both community and court-referred mediation, a feminist critique quickly emerged. It recognized that women seldom achieved equal bargaining power in mediations relative to men; as a result, the equitable outcomes valued by the mediation field too rarely occurred. In response, mediation theorists, trainers, and practitioners alike promoted and adopted tactics to empower women in family and divorce mediations and level the negotiating table. This often had positive outcomes with regard to the one-time and permanent division of property and assets, where ongoing power differentials become less relevant. But when it came to joint child custody arrangements women could be permanently disadvantaged. The power imbalances may have been temporarily redressed through conflict coaching and advocacy during mediation. But they quickly reappeared upon the return to everyday life, where ongoing child care issues are negotiated and renegotiated constantly between divorced partners still living their lives inside patriarchal systems, albeit separately (Regehr, 1994). This single example demonstrates the quite dangerous three-way intersection between conflict resolution theory, ethics, and practice. There are often competing interests, values, and principles at play in any conflict resolution process, during both the intervention process and with regard to the long-term consequences of agreements. In this sense, true empowerment is neither episodic nor temporary. On the contrary, it should be regularized and ongoing to weaken the structural foundations of the inequalities and injustices entwined in the conflict.

Profiles in practice The two main principles of social justice and empowerment outlined above are widespread. Similarly, the practices we profile below are common, and discussed here simply as a few among many possible examples. 69

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Listening projects and envisioning processes Listening projects are often used in response to community-based conflicts. They contain multiple components that include creating interactive and participatory processes that aim for understanding the historical and contemporary roots of a community’s conflict, identifying and assessing the cross-cutting needs of various parties, uncovering the aspirational goals latent within the community, and envisioning new horizons. Listening projects generally use small teams from the community, trained in the reflective listening skills integral to constructive conflict management. These small teams interview various stakeholders about their needs, interests, and viewpoints. The goal has less to do with creating consensus and more to do with using communication to produce mutual understanding and empowerment for all participants. This data-gathering and deep listening has potent de-escalatory potential while also building community capacities in shared problem definition, leading to collective problemsolving. Originally developed by the US-based Rural Southern Voice for Peace (now Listening Project: Community Listening, Empowerment, Change) to assist communities with deep-seated racial conflicts and environmental injustices, it has been successfully applied in many other countries, including Micronesia, Nicaragua, and Croatia (Bloch, 2005; Walters, 1993).1 Envisioning workshops are loosely related to listening projects and have been used in a variety of conflict settings. Envisioning workshops like the seven-step process detailed by Elise Boulding (1988) help community members move beyond focusing on current problems and what they may be against to concentrate instead on the vision of a positive, shared civic future. Notably, the final step develops a plan for getting to that now shared, aspirational future. Envisioning practices have even transformed complex, multi-party public sector disputes. In Chattanooga, Tennessee, a city that experienced severe economic downtowns, community-based envisioning processes laid the groundwork for the reinvention of its identity and political economy (Parr, 1999). The applied practices of Appreciative Inquiry (Cooperrider & Whitney, 2005), also widely used across community and especially organizational conflicts, includes many of these same insights.

Community mediation The civil rights, peace, women’s, and environmental movements from the 1950s through the 1970s influenced spin-off movements. For example, as women reasserted control over their bodies and as take-back-the-night marches made streets somewhat safer for women, the notion of civil society taking back control of other arenas took hold. One such arena was the community mediation movement, which spawned neighborhood and community-based alternatives to formal court systems, perceived to be unresponsive, costly, slow, and overly partial to status quo interests at the expense of traditionally disadvantaged populations. In short, court systems were seen as disempowering. Aided by peace studies scholars and practitioners, many early mediation centers trained neighborhood residents in mediation processes and helped establish neighborhood dispute centers that relied mostly on volunteer mediators. This allowed disputants to keep their conflicts out of the court system and gave them control of the conflict outcomes – the essence of mediation practice. Notably, these community mediation centers increased community capacities and one spill-over effect was the further empowerment of volunteer mediators, who could now apply their constructive conflict management skills in other community settings. Research on community mediation in the US demonstrates that many state-wide networks achieve high agreement rates (70–80 percent of cases), impressive “satisfaction with the process” 70

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rates (84–90 percent), extremely high “satisfaction with the mediators” rates (88–100 percent), and laudable “satisfaction with the mediation resolution” rates (73–86 percent) (Hedeen, 2004). Relative to court systems, these are heady numbers. Community-based dispute resolution, as an alternative to formalized or government-controlled systems, has also been established in other settings, e.g., school systems, cultures, i.e., Indigenous communities, and countries, manifesting culturally relevant formulations. Still, all is not rosy on the community mediation front. Like many alternative enterprises, funding is a perpetual problem. Also, reliance upon community mediation centers as a reliable alternative has been spotty. The ironic result is that many centers are dependent for both case referrals and funding on the formalized court systems to which they were meant to be an alternative (Hedeen & Coy, 2000). As form often follows funding, this has resulted in various degrees of cooptation by the state and vested court interests (Coy & Hedeen, 2005), taking some of the community out of community mediation.

Alternatives to violence programs The peace and conflict studies field has also been active in providing alternative resources to those caught up in prison systems through the Alternatives to Violence (AVP) and similar programs. Originally designed by Quaker educators and mediators active in the New York prison system, highly interactive AVP workshops often occur over multiple days and rely on those cooperative learning, participatory models that have proven successful in training volunteer mediators and increasing democratic community capacities (Hedeen, 2005). Developing skills in active listening, constructive assertions, and building self-esteem are all essential to building a sense of community and mutual trust in trying, often violence-prone situations (John, 2015). Using insights drawn from the peace and conflict studies field, AVP workshops are held in prisons in 35 US states and in more than 50 countries, including in conflict zones, refugee camps, women’s shelters and prison systems. More than 14,000 people participate annually (Novek, 2011). Participants learn the transforming power of recognition and acknowledgment, potentially facilitating a reciprocal openness in the other and thereby avoiding the escalating dynamics that denials and rejections usually bring. Many AVP workshops use a train the trainer model so that inmates train inmates. Maryland prison system AVP programs show positive effects on anger management and levels of confrontation. They may also contribute to a decrease in prison violence and translate in positive ways back to the community following the release of inmates who completed the program (Walrath, 2001).2

Restorative justice Restorative justice (RJ) aims to address the many problems of the criminal justice system. Early uses stem from the Victim-Offender Reconciliation Programs begun in the 1970s (Umbreit et al., 2004). RJ includes talking circles, alternative sentencing programs, multi-door court systems, and diversion programs (cf. Liebmann, 2007; Pranis et al., 2003). Each is designed to address criminal acts – usually minor or nonviolent offenses – through a reparative rather than retributive process. Some of the rationales for RJ parallel those for community mediation centers that rose in the same time period, namely that the traditional, retributive, justice system tended to exclude victims’ voices and often did little to reduce recidivism. Instead, restorative justice sought to reframe crime as damage to relationships and communities rather than the transgression of the criminal against society (Zehr, 1990). 71

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The key elements of social justice and empowerment are integral to RJ. Adherents believe that decision-making should reside with those impacted by the offense, justice should be focused on healing and transformation, and this combination should decrease recidivism. Empowerment transpires when victims can communicate directly with the offenders and have a say in restitution (Zehr, 2002). Offenders also gain by taking responsibility for the harm and for its repair. Improving relationships requires that other stakeholders beyond the victims and offenders have a voice, too. Rather than the adjudication of fact, the dialogic process helps the parties explore their relationships and uncover new knowledge about each other (Umbreit et al., 2004). Notably, this broadening of roles for the victim, offender, and other stakeholders challenges the entrenched power interests of the justice system. The resulting strain between the justice system’s goals of reducing costs and recidivism, and restorative justice’s advocacy of social justice and empowerment, replicates the tensions between process and outcome outlined above. These tensions are necessary to balance relational and process related issues with outcomes and structural problems.

Nonviolent action Another practice arena intimately related to peace and conflict studies is nonviolent action. A 2005 Hewlett Foundation-funded study of peace and conflict studies degree programs, offered in the US and Canada, collected 120 syllabi from these programs. When coded for the central concepts of the courses, nonviolence was the fourth most frequent central focus, trailing only peace (making), conflict intervention, and conflict, albeit by substantial margins (Coy & Hedeen, 2006). A now robust literature of both case studies and empirical research has established the constructive tendencies of nonviolent struggle. Nonviolent conflict escalation has high potentialities to achieve the following: developing collective identities around a just cause; redressing paralyzing power asymmetries; cultivating influential allies; creating backfire dynamics and increasing defections from the other side if they use violence against nonviolent actors; and convincing bystanders to eschew apathy and become involved in the struggle (Coy, 2017; Nepstad, 2015). This is why nonviolent conflict escalation generally leads to more constructive outcomes compared to violence, or to the strategies of avoidance, compromise, or accommodation (Martin & Varney, 2003). One strength of nonviolent struggle and a salient contributor to it being twice as likely to succeed as violence (Chenoweth & Stephan, 2011) is its low participation threshold. One does not need to learn how to shoot a gun or read a radar screen to be an effective nonviolent activist. On the other hand, it has been shown that the considerable power of nonviolent struggle can be increased further through rigorous training and deliberate practice leading to expert performance (Martin & Coy, 2017).

Accompaniment In situations marked by extreme political violence where local campaigners are harassed, imprisoned, or assassinated due to their human rights promotion and social change activism, nonviolent protective accompaniment may increase safe political space. In protective accompaniment, uniformed observers who are part of a nongovernmental organization or international network walk alongside threatened local activists to deter attacks. Peace Brigades International in Latin America pioneered accompaniment in the 1980s when military dictatorships and political repression were nearly the norm. 72

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There are at least three reasons to use this nonviolent tactic. First, to deter attacks. Accompaniment relies, in part, on the well-established Observer Effect principle for its presumed deterrent capabilities. The Observer Effect states that people can be generally relied upon to adjust their behavior to varying degrees when they know they are being observed. This is self-evident in our personal and social settings, and is no less true in highly charged political spaces, sometimes even more so. Second, if deterrence fails and an attack occurs, the observer is present to document the violence and disseminate that news, often through a naming and shaming campaign. This is thought to raise the costs of aggression while contributing to the increased power of deterrence in future scenarios (Mahony & Eguren, 1997). Third, the robust empowerment effects that accompaniment often has for local activists – allowing them to do what they otherwise would not – can be considerable; these empowerment effects are also well-established in the peace and conflict studies literature (Coy, 1997, 2018; Julian & Schweitzer, 2015). Approximately 35 organizations are currently providing protective accompaniment and using unarmed civilian peacekeepers, including Witness for Peace, Nonviolent Peaceforce, Christian Peacemaker Teams, International Solidarity Movement, the Fellowship of Reconciliation’s Peace Presence, and Peace Brigades International. Peace studies scholars have played prominent roles in these organizations. This is a burgeoning application of nonviolent theory and practice, now used in a wide variety of conflict situations, from the South Sudan to Canada to Nepal. Randy Janzen’s (2014) recent research shows accompaniment teams have been deployed on six continents and in 35 different countries just since 1990. Despite commonalities, these diverse organizations also demonstrate noteworthy variances in their understanding of nonpartisanship, their degree of interventionism, and their adherence to or violation of local and national laws while attempting to protect local activists (for a comparative analysis on these issues, see Coy, 2012).

Problemsolving workshops and track II A starting point for academic entry into conflict resolution practice was what John Burton (1969) described as controlled communication and what later developed into the ProblemSolving Workshop (PSW) and Track II diplomacy (Jones, 2015). This practice was originally devised as an academic exercise to bring together influential members of conflicting societies, namely those who are not serving members of either government, but who may have access to these members (Kelman 2000). The core of the PSW and Track II interventions is to bring these influentials, or pre-influentials, together under controlled circumstances – sometimes in secret – usually far from the conflict site. The influentials are joined by academics trained in conflict resolution – and sometimes with regional expertise – to assist the parties in a shared analysis of the conflict, leading to action plans for the settlement, resolution, or transformation of the conflict. The parties themselves are responsible for conflict analysis and for developing steps leading to the peaceful resolution. The third party’s role is limited to facilitating, keeping the parties on track and providing academic expertise on conflict processes in comparison with other conflicts. Trained interveners work in a non-directive way, trying to ensure that the parties own the process and are responsible for the outcome (Jones, 2015). The analysis-based approach of the PSW and Track II diplomacy assists parties to view their conflict as a shared problem and encourages mutual understandings of the conflict’s sources and dynamics. This allows parties to identify conflict sources that fuel social injustice and to develop just, stable outcomes. There are several variations of PSW, with some focusing on 73

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youth participation across the conflict divide (Ben-Yitzhak, 2010) and others using the process at the grassroots community level (Nan & Greiff, 2013). But in all the two themes of addressing social injustices and empowerment that we identify above are central to these processes and their potential success.

Peacebuilding and zones of peace In our final examination of how principles inform practice we examine the broad field of peacebuilding and the narrower concept of Zones of Peace (ZoPs). Much of peacebuilding fieldwork – and a good deal of the scholarship – is derived from more mainstream fields such as development, political science, and international relations. Liberal peacebuilding is often top-down and more concerned with developing institutions and economics than with seeking social justice or local empowerment (cf. Hancock, 2016). This means many of the practices used in peacebuilding do not incorporate either of our two main principles. The bridge between peacebuilding and our principles starts with those critical peacebuilding scholars who show that failure to focus on either social justice or empowerment often leads to failures of the liberal peace (cf. Autesserre, 2014; Mac Ginty, 2010; Richmond, 2011). Like critical development scholars in the 1980s (cf. Worsley, 1984), critical peacebuilding scholars insist that successful peacebuilding requires stronger local ownership, stronger local agency – reflecting the need for empowerment of those most affected by peacebuilding programs (Donais, 2012; Mac Ginty, 2014; Richmond & Pogodda, 2016). The connection between social justice, empowerment, and peacebuilding is most fully articulated in Zones of Peace (ZoP), which show how local communities – both during and after conflicts – exercise agency and work for social justice in places like Colombia, the Philippines, and El Salvador (Hancock & Mitchell, 2007). Those ZoPs that have broad participation bases and community support tend to be more successful than those whose leadership fails to empower (Hancock, 2018; Idler et al., 2015; Mitchell & Hancock, 2007). Local and international agencies that work with ZoPs are often careful to be facilitative to ensure that ZoP members articulate their own visions of peacebuilding, and meet local needs to achieve local social justice and empowerment (Hancock, 2016). ZoPs that develop and practice deliberative democracy and accountability towards their communities – rather than towards funders – are seen as more legitimate by their communities, and at times by international funders (Hancock, 2018).

An ethos-driven orientation Peace and conflict studies practice is marked by tensions between principles of empowerment and social justice on the one hand and a results-driven focus on the other. Empowerment and social justice are often articulated by questions of who should be included in the process and a stronger focus on the process itself. The results-driven focus has two drivers: demonstrating the usefulness of different practice forms; and showing the cost-effectiveness of conflict resolution when compared to other, more confrontational, practices. Both approaches are partly defined by the field of evaluation, which can focus on formative, summative, and process evaluation efforts (Rossi et al., 1999).3 Evaluations, especially summative and process evaluations, are about accountability. To whom is any particular conflict resolution process accountable? To the parties involved in the conflict? To the funders who pay for these efforts? To the elected representatives, who are responsible for the area in which the process operates? These relevant questions illustrate the 74

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tension between principled and outcome-driven approaches to practice. The former is necessary for successful processes while the latter is essential to demonstrate to supporting stakeholders that their contributions are bearing fruit. Parties on both sides of this equation, those focused on principles and those on outcomes, have valid concerns. One manner of addressing both is to focus on systematic evaluation of conflict resolution efforts. However, as explored by Hancock (2016) and Galtung and Tisné4 (2009), the accountability offered through evaluation efforts tends to prioritize funders over participants.5 Another method for balancing this tension is to rely upon “best practices,” or what we prefer to call good practices. These are steps that practitioners are urged – or required – to follow to meet the needs of disputing parties and other stakeholders in an ethical manner. Most good practices tend to be drawn from evaluation research (cf. Church & Shouldice, 2003; Hedeen, 2004; Nan et al., 2009; Raines et al., 2010). These analyses incline to be complex, noting issues such as cultural appropriateness of some intervention methods as well as power differentials between different actors and the need to pay attention to empowerment and social justice. However, other studies focus more on the outcome end of the spectrum, privileging rigid as opposed to flexible outcomes and attending more to the needs of the funding community than to those in conflict (cf. Paris, 1997; Schoenhaus & United States Institute of Peace, 2001). The key, we believe, to bridging this tension between principle and outcome-driven practice is not to abandon the idea of good practices, but to interrogate our good practices – indeed all of our practices – with respect to both questions. How does practice engender the empowerment of the parties involved? How does it respect the needs of stakeholders who might not be at the table? How does the practice engender social justice? We believe these tensions can best be reconciled – while recognizing that there may always be some tradeoffs – through ethos. Conflict resolution is openly and reflexively normative. Being normative means that peace and conflict studies scholars and practitioners seek to address problems at the deepest levels possible in order to achieve positive social good. In Becker’s (1967) terms, that sometimes means asking whose side we are on. As described by Laue and Cormick (1978), we also need to ask whether reaching a conflict resolution will promote social justice – not because failing to do so would be problematic for the intervener, but because it may prove troublesome in the long run for the principals and still others. The key for using good practices as guideposts is to ensure that they remain infused with the ethos of the field. That ethos, as demonstrated through the many different forms of practice discussed here, is the twin commitment to empowering the conflict parties to be active agents, and to assisting them to seek social justice, which may address the sources of their conflict. If our good practices can be infused with this ethos, instead of being focused on the outcome of getting an agreement or reducing administrative costs, then perhaps we will succeed in putting our principles into practice.

Notes 1 Also see the Listening project online at www.listeningproject.info. 2 Also see the Alternatives to Violence Project at www.avpusa.org or avpinternational.org. 3 These are just primary types of evaluation, for more detail see (Bush & Duggan, 2013; Church & Shouldice, 2003; Hedeen, 2004. 4 We prefer “good practices” terminology to acknowledge the complications arising from cultural contexts. 5 For more on alternatives forms of accountability see Donais, 2012; Galtung & Tisné, 2009; Pinnington, 2014).

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References Anderson, M. B. (1999). Do No Harm: How Aid Can Support Peace – or War. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers. Autesserre, S. (2014). Peaceland: Conflict Resolution and the Everyday Politics of International Intervention. New York: Cambridge University Press. Becker, H. S. (1967). Whose side are we on? Social Problems, 14(3), 239–47. Ben-Yitzhak, L. (2010). Hope against despair. Palestine-Israel Journal of Politics, Economics and Culture, 16(2), 1–4. Bloch, C. (2005). Listening to understand: The listening project in Croatia. In P. V. Tongeren, M. Brenk, M. Hellema, & J. Verhoeven (Eds.), People Building Peace II: Successful Stories of Civil Society (pp. 654–60). Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers. Boulding, E. (1988). Building a Global Civic Culture: Education for an Interdependent World. New York: Teachers College Press, Teachers College, Columbia University. Burton, J. W. (1969). Conflict and Communication: The Use of Controlled Communication in International Relations. New York: Free Press. Bush, K., & Duggan, C. (2013). Evaluation in conflict zones: Methodological and ethical challenges. Journal of Peacebuilding and Development, 8(2), 5–25. Chenoweth, E., & Stephan, M. J. (2011). Why Civil Resistance Works: The Strategic Logic of Nonviolent Conflict. New York: Columbia University Press. Church, C., & Shouldice, J. (2003). The Evaluation of Conflict Resolution Interventions, part II: Emerging Practice and Theory. Derry/Londonderry, UK: INCORE International Conflict Research. Clark, A. D., & Coy, P. G. (2015). Civil rights and domestic policy. In M. C. Hallward & J. M. Norman (Eds.), Understanding Nonviolence: Contours and Contexts (pp. 123–47). Cambridge, UK: Polity Press. Cooperrider, D. L., & Whitney, D. K. (2005). Appreciative Inquiry: A Positive Revolution in Change (1st Ed.). San Francisco, CA: Berrett-Koehler. Coy, P. G. (1997). Cooperative accompaniment by Peace Brigades International in Sri Lanka. In J. Smith, C. Chatfield, & R. Pagnucco (Eds.), Transnational Social Movements and Global Politics: Solidarity beyond the State (pp. 81–100). Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press. Coy, P. G. (2012). Nonpartisanship, interventionism and legality in accompaniment: Comparative analyses of Peace Brigades International, Christian Peacemaker Teams, and the International Solidarity Movement. International Journal of Human Rights, 16(7), 963–81. Coy, P. G. (2017). Communication, constructiveness, and asymmetry in nonviolent action theory and practice. In B. W. Dayton & L. Kriesberg (Eds.), Perspectives in Waging Conflicts Constructively: Cases, Concepts, and Practice (pp. 11–31). Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Coy, P. G. (2018). The intersections of international nonviolent accompaniment and radical local politics. In U. Gordon & R. Kinna (Eds.), The Routledge Handbook of Radical Politics (pp. 52–74). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Coy, P. G., & Hedeen, T. (2005). A stage model of social movement co-optation: Community mediation in the United States. Sociological Quarterly, 46(3), 405–35. Coy, P. G., & Hedeen, T. (2006). Please don’t tell me you teach that book: Charting the state of peace and conflict studies undergraduate degree programs in the US and Canada. Paper presented at the International Peace Research Association Conference, Calgary, Alberta. Deutsch, M. (1973). The Resolution of Conflict: Constructive and Destructive Processes. New Haven CT: Yale University Press. Donais, T. (2012). Peacebuilding and Local Ownership: Post-Conflict and Consensus-Building. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Fast, L. A., Neufeldt, R. C., & Schirch, L. (2002). Toward ethically grounded conflict interventions: Reevaluating challenges in the 21st century. International Negotiation, 7(2), 185–207. Fisher, S., Abdi, D. I., Ludin, J., Smith, R., Williams, S., & Williams, S. (2000). Working with Conflict: Skills and Strategies for Action. London: Zed Books. Freire, P. (1990). Education for Critical Consciousness. New York: Continuum. Galtung, F., & Tisné, M. (2009). A new approach to postwar reconstruction. Journal of Democracy, 20(4), 93–107. Gawerc, M. I. (2006). Peace-building: Theoretical and concrete perspectives. Peace and Change, 31(4), 435–78.

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Peace studies and conflict resolution Hancock, L. E. (2016). Agency and peacebuilding: The promise of local zones of peace. Peacebuilding, 5(3), 255–69. Hancock, L. E., (2018). Legitimate agents of peacebuilding: Deliberative governance in zones of peace. In L. E. Hancock & C. Mitchell (Eds.), Local Peacebuilding and Legitimacy: Interactions between National and Local Levels (pp. 20–43). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Hancock, L. E., & Mitchell, C. R. (Eds.) (2007). Zones of Peace. Bloomfield, CT: Kumarian Press. Hedeen, T. (2004). The evolution and evaluation of community mediation: Limited research suggests unlimited progress. Conflict Resolution Quarterly, 22(1/2), 101–33. Hedeen, T. (2005). Dialogue and democracy, community and capacity: Lessons for conflict resolution education from Montessori, Dewey, and Freire. Conflict Resolution Quarterly, 23(2), 185–202. Hedeen, T., & Coy, P. G. (2000). Community mediation and the court system: The ties that bind. Mediation Quarterly, 17(4), 351–67. Idler, A., Garrido, B., & Mouly, C. (2015). Peace in Colombia? Factors of success for local peace territories. Paper presented at the International Studies Association Annual Convention, New Orleans, LA. Janzen, R. (2014). Shifting practices of peace: What is the current state of unarmed civilian peacekeeping? Peace Studies Journal, 7(3), 46–60. John, V. M. (2015). Working locally, connecting globally: The case of the alternatives to violence project (AVP). Journal of Peacebuilding and Development, 10(2), 81–6. Jones, P. (2015). Track Two Diplomacy in Theory and Practice. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Jones, T. S., & Brinkert, R. (2008). Conflict Coaching: Conflict Management Strategies and Skills for the Individual. Los Angeles, CA: Sage Publications. Julian, R., & Schweitzer, C. (2015). The origins and development of unarmed civilian peacekeeping. Peace Review, 27(1), 1–8. Kelman, H. C. (2000). The role of the scholar-practitioner in international conflict resolution. International Studies Perspectives, 1(3), 273. Kriesberg, L. (1999). On advancing truth and morality in conflict resolution. Peace and Conflict Studies, 6(1), 8–23. Laue, J., & Cormick, G. (1978). The ethics of intervention in community disputes. In G. Bermant, H. C. Kelman, & D. P. Warwick (Eds.), The Ethics of Social Intervention (pp. 205–32). Washington, DC: Halsted Press. Liebmann, M. (2007). Restorative Justice: How It Works. Philadelphia, PA: Jessica Kingsley Publishers. Mac Ginty, R. (2010). Hybrid peace: The interaction between top-down and bottom-up peace. Security Dialogue, 41(4), 391–412. Mac Ginty, R. (2014). Everyday peace: Bottom-up and local agency in conflict-affected societies. Security Dialogue, 45(6), 548–64. Mahony, L., & Eguren, L. E. (1997). Unarmed Bodyguards: International Accompaniment for the Protection of Human Rights. West Hartford, CT: Kumarian Press. Martin, B., & Coy, P. G. (2017). Skills, training, and activism. Reflective Practice, 1–11. Martin, B., & Varney, W. (2003). Nonviolence and communication. Journal of Peace Research, 40(2), 213–32. Mayer, B. S. (2004). Beyond Neutrality: Confronting the Crisis in Conflict Resolution. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Mitchell, C. R., & Hancock, L. E. (2007). Local zones of peace and a theory of sanctuary. In L. E. Hancock & C. R. Mitchell (Eds.), Zones of Peace (pp. 189–221). Bloomfield, CT: Kumarian Press. Modavi, N. (1996). Mediation of environmental conflicts in Hawaii: Win-win or co-optation. Sociological Perspectives, 39(2), 301–16. Nan, S. A., Druckman, D., & Horr, J. E. (2009). Unofficial international conflict resolution: Is there a Track 1½? Are there best practices? Conflict Resolution Quarterly, 27(1), 65–82. Nan, S. A., & Greiff, J. L. (2013). Basic human needs in practice: The Georgian-South Ossetian point of view process. In K. Avruch & C. R. Mitchell (Eds.), Conflict Resolution and Human Needs: Linking Theory and ractice (pp. 201–15). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Nepstad, S. E. (2015). Nonviolent Struggle: Theories, Strategies, and Dynamics. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Neufeldt, R. C. (2014). Doing good better: Expanding the ethics of peacebuilding. International Peacekeeping, 21(4), 427–42. Novek, E. (2011). The Alternatives to Violence Project’s work for peace behind bars. Peace Review, 23(3), 335–41.

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Patrick G. Coy, Landon E. Hancock, Anuj Gurung Paris, R. (1997). Peacebuilding and the limits of liberal internationalism. International Security, 22(2), 54. Parr, J. (1999). The Chattanooga process: A city’s vision is realized. In L. Susskind, S. McKearnan, & J. Thomas-Larmer (Eds.), The Consensus Building Handbook: A Comprehensive Guide to Reaching Agreement (pp. 951–68). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications. Pinnington, R. (2014). Local First in Practice: Unlocking the Power to Get Things Done. London: Peace Direct. Pranis, K., Stuart, B., & Wedge, M. (2003). Peacemaking Circles: From Crime to Community. St Paul, MN: Living Justice Press. Raines, S., Hedeen, T., & Barton, A. B. (2010). Best practices for mediation training and regulation: Preliminary findings. Family Court Review, 48(3), 541–54. Regehr, C. (1994). The use of empowerment in child custody mediation: A feminist critique. Mediation Quarterly, 11(4), 361–71. Richmond, O. P. (2011). A Post-Liberal Peace. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Richmond, O. P., & Pogodda, S. (2016). Introduction: The contradictions of peace, international architecture, the state and local agency. In O. P. Richmond & S. Pogodda (Eds.), Post-Liberal Peace Transitions: Between Peace Formation and State Formation (pp. 1–26). Edinburgh, UK: Edinburgh University Press. Rossi, P. H., Freeman, H. E., & Lipsey, M. W. (1999). Evaluation: A Systematic Approach (6th Ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Schoenhaus, R. M., & United States Institute of Peace (2001). Conflict Management Training: Advancing Best Practices. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace. Sharp, G. (1973). The Politics of Nonviolent Action, Part two: The Methods of Non-Violent Action. Boston, MA: P. Sargent Publisher. Umbreit, M. S., Coates, R. B., & Vos, B. (2004). Victim-offender mediation: Three decades of practice and research. Conflict Resolution Quarterly, 22(1–2), 279–303. Walrath, C. W. (2001). Evaluation of an inmate-run alternatives to violence project: The impact of inmate-to-inmate intervention. Journal of Interpersonal Violence, 16, 697–711. Walters, H. (1993). Dismantling racism through listening. Pax Christi USA (Spring), 10–11. Weber, T. (1991). Conflict Resolution and Gandhian Ethics. New Delhi, IN: Gandhi Peace Foundation. Weber, T. (2001). Gandhian philosophy, conflict resolution theory and practical approaches to negotiation. Journal of Peace Research, 38(4), 493–513. Wehr, P. E. (1979). Conflict Regulation. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Williams, S., & Williams, S. (1994). Being in the Middle by Being at the Edge: Quaker Experience of Non-Official Political Mediation. London: Quaker Peace and Service in association with Sessions Book Trust. Worsley, P. (1984). The Three Worlds: Culture and World Development. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson. Zehr, H. (1990). Changing Lenses: A New Focus for Crime and Justice. Scottdale, PA: Herald Press. Zehr, H. (2002). The Little Book of Restorative Justice. Intercourse, PA: Good Books.

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PART II

Structure-agency, social justice, nonviolence, and relationship building

6 ASSESSING PEACE AND CONFLICT STUDIES THEORY AND PRACTICE IN RECONCILING AGENCY AND STRUCTURAL SOURCES OF SEVERE SOCIOPOLITICAL POLARIZATION Frederic S. Pearson and Marie Olson Lounsbery Introduction The immediate post-Cold War period of the 1990s was an optimistic, even triumphalist time in which politicians and scholars spoke of grand “coalitions of the willing,” ideological “ends of history,” and “new world orders,” complete with redress of such problems as Iraq’s takeover of Kuwait, emerging civil wars, South African apartheid, Israeli–Palestinian peace. Talentino (2005) noted a marked upswing in the willingness of United Nations and other multilateral agencies to undertake peacemaking interventions, as the elimination of US–Soviet competition and vetoes eased Intergovernmental Organization (IGO) paralysis. Slowly, and finally with the election of America’s first black president in 2008, people even spoke of “post-racial” societies. New global and local norms were articulated, such as the Responsibility to Protect (R2P) as proposed by Secretary-General Kofi Annan and enacted into UN resolutions as a human rights counterweight to the age-old international priority of state sovereignty as the basis of stability in world politics. With shocking outrages and the reemergence of genocidal violence and politics in places such as Rwanda and Bosnia, R2P called for interventionist remedial action ranging from strict sanctions, to humanitarian relief, and if necessary military intervention to protect civilian populations. The possibilities of conflict management and resolution had never seemed more encouraging. However, in the ensuing years, a certain disillusionment arose in the wake of terrorist outrages in the US, Europe, the Middle East, Africa, and Asia, of vicious cartel- and corruptiondriven violence in South, Central, and North America, of assassination and renewed fighting in Israel/Palestine, of unremitting civilian targeting in Syrian, Iraqi, Gaza/Israeli, Chechen, and Yemeni warfare, of police shootings and renewed racial unrest in American cities, and of ultra-nationalist reactions against immigration, refugees, and social change in Europe, Asia, and North America. Liberal internationalism and its human rights concerns, which had evolved to 81

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characterize post-World War II peace and prosperity, seemed to recede in a reversion to autarky and exclusion, even including proposed withdrawals from the most successful peacemaking institution in European history – the European Union. These trends and countertrends leave us asking how the conflict resolution field can adjust to normative change and new challenges to peace, and what it can offer in the context of so many disparate forms of political polarization. Even time-tested principles of negotiation theory seem to have been abandoned by unseasoned diplomats, in unprepared summit meetings, featuring grandstanding pronouncements before any concrete agreements are reached, with so-called mediators blaming one side or the other publicly for intransigence in the midst of talks, while agendas and priorities are blithely mixed. Leaders in titular democracies lock up or muzzle critics; legislators no longer consult across party lines; “reforms” such as term limits erase from the scene those with needed conciliatory skills. One of the keys to understanding potential solutions to the bitter and polarized struggles of our time is in distinguishing the forces of agency, and structure in driving these disputes and potential solutions. This has been true historically, indeed going all the way back to revolutions such as the US fight against colonial Britain, in which committed militants and even zealots in New England fought a rearguard battle based on their personal experience and interests, power ambitions, and growing structural and ideological socialization as “Americans.” Agent/structural patterns are at least as pertinent and consequential in today’s destabilized regions. In Northern Ireland, Syria, Palestine, Kashmir, and elsewhere peaceful protest and forceful rebellion were often countered by widespread repression, in a cycle that fueled more hatred and resistance. News accounts speak of young men who were angry but pursuing normal careers and jobs, who became “radicalized” by witnessing atrocities and indignities inflicted on their villages and kinsmen (Gettleman, 2018). The interplay of repressive structures and assertive organizational movements breeds cyclical violence and turns individuals as agents into militants (Nossiter, 2016). Sometimes we confuse the domains of agency and structure in conflict analysis and dilute the effect of remedial efforts by adopting approaches which miss the mark of the conflict structure itself. Agency has to do with the parties to conflict, including all those in Wehr’s (2006) conflict mapping – the first, second, and third parties to the dispute: the primary contestants, those affected by their struggle, and those intervening and hoping to end or attain their own interests in the conflict. The assumptions are that bringing those parties together in more effective bargained solutions will contain or resolve the dispute through tactics such as “splitting the difference,” reconciling past indiscretions and injuries, third party guarantees and inducements. Agency entails what might be termed “intentionality” and reflects parties’ motivation. Structure refers to the seen and unseen social, physical, environmental institutions, forces, and conditions underlying and driving (or retarding) the conflict, including those “socializing” the individual parties or agents. These may include societal class, economic structures and conditions, governing institutions, historical ethnosocial grievances and trauma, and geography. The complete conflict map takes account of all these factors but conflict resolution designs and strategies may gloss over some and fail or produce only partial or short-term relief. Leviatan (2015) shows that legal structures must be analyzed as interacting with agency, especially in affecting new incentives and opportunities to reimagine a conflict. Indeed, more care is needed to balance and include both “structuration” and agency in conflict settlement. In the optimistic post-Cold War period one might have expected international bodies to step in and conciliate more situations, but with the recurrence of global dissensus and multi-polarity, regions appear increasingly destabilized and beyond regulation (e.g., Syria). In terms of agency, Jabri (1995) focuses on “exclusionist” tendencies, which frequently arise in intergroup and international contexts. These become exacerbated by structural conditions 82

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such as those which arose in the 1930s Great Depression. She calls for greater understanding of the “transformative discourses” and “forms of human interaction” that can overcome the rise of exclusionism and prevent its escalation to violence. Jabri focuses specifically on the structural element of power distribution that underlies agency and behavior, conditioning responses and affecting exclusion.

Strategic combinations Thinking back over historical conflict resolution failures that reflect agent-structure confusion, one particularly troubling, tragic and intractable case comes to mind – the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. Israel’s founding in 1948 of course stemmed from the 1947 UN General Assembly partition agreement. The old concept of “prominent solutions” was in evidence, in the majority and minority General Assembly reports – the alternative two-state and the one-state solutions, which in one form or another are still posed today. In a strange geographic configuration, the UN opted for separate Palestinian and Israeli states, a solution favored and accepted by the Israeli leaders but forcefully rejected by surrounding Arab states who immediately invaded the nascent Israeli state. The UN had established an ill-fated Palestine Commission to oversee the partition, which envisioned reliance on armed militia in both sectors to establish independence; in the Israeli case this would put full reliance on the leading Haganah military organization (Ben-Dror, 2013). This Solomon-like plan for dividing the territory, on the precedent of the earlier troublesome geographically awkward Indian–Pakistani partition, reflected agent-based assumptions of “splitting the difference” and minimalist thinking on what it would take structurally to substantiate and secure a peaceful division. Structural factors, ranging from geographic to political, and also involving power and size asymmetry were largely downplayed in the evident international search for expedient solutions. However, the major powers that posed or supported the twostate solution should have been willing to guarantee it structurally. Britain was in a unique position to influence and restrain its remaining Arab state clients, several of whose armies it still led. The US, finally agreeing with the Soviet Union on Israel’s establishment, emerged as a leading power in the UN Palestine Conciliation Commission, which attempted unsuccessfully to mediate the settlement from 1949 to 1951 (see Jensehaugen et al., 2012; Tiller & Waage, 2011). Thus, the powers allowed and even participated in an invasion that would overturn the UN mandated structure and destabilize the whole situation for generations to come.

Agency and structure in various peacemaking contexts Interpersonal disputes If we examine various types of disputes we can see more clearly the need for balancing agency and structural provisions in settlements. In interpersonal disputes such as divorce situations, for example, power and economic differentials as well as children’s status, property assets, and future interaction can both complicate mediated agreements and lead to breakdowns of understanding along the way (Benjamin, 1995; Bernard et. al., 1984). Even court-mandated terms of settlement could cover over such matters across time and require relitigation. Divorce mediation techniques have included “facilitative”, “evaluative,” and “transformative” models (Zumeta, 2000), with the first and third especially designed to let the parties’ agency lead toward their own understanding and framing of cooperation. Moving to redress power imbalances and asymmetries, however, has long been controversial for mediators as to how much “intrusion” they 83

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should undertake (such as coaching on parties’ legal rights). Evaluative mediators are less shy about such matters as they provide parties an assessment of the strength or weakness of their cases and a cue to whether and how to reach terms making the best of whatever power or legal assets they have. Perhaps the logical synthesis here is to pose the evaluation at the outset and then bring the parties together to conceive solutions (Cutcher-Gershenfeld, 2014). However, the initial evaluation may so condition agent positions and asymmetry that the “advantaged” party inflexibly holds out for substantially more gains, leaving the less advantaged party with little redress. Clearly, such agent-structure complications call for resourceful and insightful mediation strategies.

Inter-group disputes One frequent approach to reconciling groups is to promote dialogue and joint socialization to get to know each other better, promote trust, build confidence, and overcome fear and suspicion. These are significant agency benefits but may lack certainty that change and understanding will produce positive outcomes (DeTurk, 2006), again reflecting potential need for structural change. Therefore, after intercultural and inter-class dialogue, it may be necessary for the parties to form joint action projects to lend structure to their collaboration (Rosegrant & Cabbil, 2000). In the case of urban “gentrification” resentments in today’s American cities, for example, such an approach might include first dialogue as to peoples’ backgrounds and experiences, and then jointly planned and implemented mutually beneficial projects to help their respective neighborhoods. While it may be necessary, then, to add structural elements such as hands-on projects to agent-based modalities, the reverse can sometimes also be true, especially in cases of more extreme inter-party hostility, as seen for example among civil war adversaries. Agency may be stimulated by certain structural adjustments and policy modifications. For example, diplomats may structure indirect talks or shuttle diplomacy to overcome the non-recognition problems between the parties (Zartman, 1993; Walter, 2002; Bapat, 2005). Other structural factors may help bridge the gap as well, when the insurgents are linked to a legitimate political party and determination is made to convey demands and positions through legal, nonviolent means (Kalin, 2018, p. 32). Talks can also be structured to allow “track-two” agents to come to understandings and become familiar with each other personally, ultimately raising awareness and trust for their leaders, as in the Oslo peace process of the 1990s. Outside pressure by diaspora groups or intergovernmental organizations, such as the EU, can help bring about or sustain concessions in terms, say, of human rights, and the parties may hope that bigger gains can be achieved in relations with the third parties themselves (Kalin, 2018, p. 34). However, the limits of such concessions can also be apparent in backsliding, reflecting agent intransigence or worsening regional and local conditions.

Agency and structure in civil war peace agreements An examination of civil war peace agreements can provide some insight, at least regarding one pervasive type of conflict, as to how agreement architects have embraced agency and/or structure in their efforts to move parties toward more enduring settlement. There were 193 civil war peace agreements signed between 1975 and 2011, according to Högbladh (2012). Of the total, only 14 agreements occurred during the late stages of the Cold War, implying that once that key global structural impediment was lifted, negotiated agreements, rather than military victory, became a more realistic outcome for these disputes. These agreements ranged 84

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from straightforward ceasefires of varying length to comprehensive and elaborate texts aimed at restructuring governmental and group relations after the war. It would seem a reasonable working hypothesis based on our discussion so far that the most effective agreements would be those that embrace both agency and structure in their provisions and approach. Examining this presumption, we consider agency provisions to be those that address parties to the conflict, particularly factors of their validation and “intentionality.” These include provisions for national talks, amnesty, the release of prisoners, return of refugees, calls for national reconciliation, and provisions aimed at cultural freedom, language in schools, cultural flags, or anthems. Of the 193 civil war peace agreements noted, 69 percent (N=134) included at least one such agency provision, while a good portion (roughly 40 percent) of them included multiple agency provisions (Table 6.1). Comparatively, 77 percent (N=149) of the civil war peace agreements signed during this time period included structural provisions designed to influence the environment under which the conflict emerged. These provisions include military and political powersharing, autonomy, federalism, and regional development ideas, as well as the withdrawal of foreign forces, elections, interim government, or a referendum. Not surprisingly, exceeding agency, the majority of the agreements included not just one, but several structural provisions (Table 6.2). It also appears that there has been a significant amount of overlap between the two provision types. Of the 193 agreements included in the study, 121 (62.7 percent) included both agency and structure. It is these agreements that we would expect to be the most effective, i.e., stable and lasting. We look at two measures of success: whether or not the agreement itself ended, i.e., failed to be implemented and/or parties withdrew, and the overall duration of the agreement. Table 6.1  Agency provisions in civil war peace agreements, 1975–2011 Ordinal measure of agency

Frequency

%

0 1 2 3 4 5

59 59 37 24 12  2

30.57 30.57 19.17 12.44  6.22  1.04

Source: UCDP Peace Agreement Dataset (Högbladh 2011). Table 6.2  Structure provisions in civil war peace agreements, 1975–2011 Ordinal measure of structure

Frequency

%

0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 12

44 28 43 33 21 8 10 2 2 2

22.8 14.51 22.28 17.10 10.88 4.15 5.18 1.04 1.04 1.04

Source: UCDP Peace Agreement Dataset (Högbladh 2012).

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Of the 134 agreements with agency provisions, 35 percent (N=47) saw those agreements end, presumably in failure, with 27 percent (N=16) of the remaining 59 non-agency agreements similarly ending. While those without agency provisions therefore seem percentagewise a bit more successful or enduring, the difference between the two is not statistically significant (chisquare=1.17, p-value=.278). Similarly, peace agreements ending (failing) were equally likely with or without structural provisions; 48 (32 percent) of the 149 agreements with such provisions ended, compared to 15 (34 percent) of the 44 without structural provisions. Thus approximately two-thirds of peace agreements lasted whether or not agency or structure were included, at least by the indicative measures we utilized. Much the same can be said of the agreements that included both agency and structure. Table 6.3 presents a cross-tabulation to illustrate the point. Again only roughly a third of agreements failed, and this percentage was essentially the same whether both types of provisions were present or not. One other confounding finding emerged as well, in that peace agreements can also be evaluated for their duration whether or not they ultimately failed. Measured in days, we compared the mean peace agreement duration across the different types of provisions (Table 6.4). Again while none of the provision types appear to show a statistically significant difference from the agreements without those provisions, it does appear that agreement duration is actually shorter when the agency and structure indicators we examine are included, either with or without each other. Civil wars and the agreements designed to end them are indeed complex. Relapse into violence is a rather frequent occurrence (Byrne, 2010). The crafting of effective peace agreements and the role that agency and structure play in those agreements or their breakdown (e.g., note Table 6.3  Agreements with agency and structure provisions as a predictor of a peace agreement ending, 1975–2011 Peace agreement ended

No such provisions

Did not end 49 (68.06%) Ended 23 (31.94%) Total 72 (100%) Chi-Square = .0255, P-value = .873

Both agency and structure provisions

Total

  81 (66.94%)   40 (33.06%) 121 (100%)

130 (67.36%)   63 (32.64%) 193 (100%)

Source: UCDP Peace Agreement Dataset (Högbladh 2012). Table 6.4  Average peace agreement duration across provision types Provision type

Mean agreement duration

Test of significancea

Agency provisions included No agency provisions

3240.75 3977.09

t = .48 p-value =.69

Structure provisions included No structure provisions

3333.52 3922.39

t = −.69 p-value = .25

Both agency and structure provisions included No agency or structure provisions together

3323.92

t = c.78

3708.97

p-value = .22

Source: UCDP Peace Agreement Dataset (Högbladh 2012). a T-tests are presented on the log of peace agreement duration to account for a non-normal distribution. The actual mean is presented in the table for easier interpretation.

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the structural difficulties that harmed the South Sudan agreement) need more exploration, perhaps using other agent/structure indicators, such as Track II or Oslo type processes, leadership change, reconciliation processes, resource allocation, and educational reform. Indeed, at least two other studies offer relevant evidence that forms of agent-based provisions may matter particularly more than structure. Joshi and Melander (2017) found that 45 percent of armed civil conflict had negotiated agreements between 1946 and 2005, and that successful implementation of “reciprocated political accommodations” (RPAs) prior to troop demobilization were more effective in averting renewed fighting than even third-party peace guarantees. Thus, agency seemed to trump structure, when the parties were able to build mutual confidence through reciprocated concessions such as interim powersharing, prisoner releases or exchanges, and amnesty. In 34 peace processes under their consideration, while RPAs were associated with positive demobilization outcomes, UN peacekeeping forces had no discernible effect.1 Similarly, Joshi et al. (2017) found that in peace implementation sequences following civil war settlements from 1989 to 2012, when RPAs preceded the first post-conflict election the peace agreement was much more likely to succeed than without RPAs.

Modes of conflict resolution most attuned to agency or structure Given that at least in terms of civil war settlements, agency and structure do not have universal applicability, but that relationship building appears consequential, we might look at the varied conflict management approaches in the field and determine which ones pertain especially to one or the other factor.

Negotiation and bargaining Negotiation can be conceived as direct and indirect bargaining among disputing parties. As such it is largely an agent-based process, of course affected by structural and other factors surrounding the dispute. Parties’ preferences, values, and interests come prominently into play. Two distinct forms of bargaining have been identified in the literature: (1) positional bargaining; and (2) interest-based bargaining (Cutcher-Gershenfeld, 2014). The former is the familiar pattern of give and take as parties attempt to maximize their gains relative to the opposing side – the concept is classically seen in labor disputes. Here the factors of power and resources are prominent as the parties shove each other toward acceptable terms and trade-offs through tactics such as strikes, sanctions, and inducements/rewards. Often the process may require enough time to convince the adversary that they have no better alternative (BATNA) to a negotiated outcome (Fisher et al., 2011). In interest-based approaches, which also can be applied in labor-management disputes, the conflict is conceived of as a joint problem to be mutually solved so that the parties “get what they need.” This often requires extensive prebargaining talks to establish trust or at least accurate mutual awareness of the parties’ interests. In international diplomacy this is often seen in “track 2” diplomacy, sometimes conducted among lesser ranked officials, to set up and ease the way toward final “track 1” talks and summits. Such processes also are heavily grounded in agency and intentionality, though the structure necessary for trust-building and familiarity certainly conditions the solutions, as in Oslo’s “out of the way” location for quiet Palestinian–Israeli preliminary talks or in workshops conducted over time by academics and mediators such as Herbert Kelman. As compared to bilateral negotiation, multilateral talks can be expected to take more concerted effort, side payments, inducements, and coalition building, as in diplomatic settings such 87

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as the Paris Climate negotiations (see World Bank, 2016, regarding India). Indeed, multilateral contexts can sometimes ease the way in talks and take the spotlight off the most divisive bilateral issues, as in the tradition of “six-party” talks about Korean nuclear developments. Producing lasting and binding agreements, however, appears to be beyond simply structuring talks. Agency and intentionality often prove the most difficult challenge, but structured diplomacy has provided face-saving ways to obfuscate differences of interest and terms of at least partial agreements.

Mediation: Neutral and guided; cultural or notable Mediation effectiveness or success, especially in international settings, may hinge on cultural factors. For example, the practice of “conciliation” is evidently preferred and practiced in certain cultures and countries that adopt civil or code law (Sgubini et al., 2004), where the third party, though neutral, develops close relations and rather assertively advises the parties on strategies and provisions that might overcome the sticking points of negotiation. Here the process would seem to combine intervener agency with the structure of mediated talks. Further aspects of mediation also concern the identity of the mediator. In regional conflicts and disputes among ethnically identified parties, “inside-partial” mediators or those who gain disputants’ trust because of cultural affinity and ability to understand subtle communicative nuances can be more effective in helping engineer or effect solutions (Wehr & Lederach, 1991; Olson & Pearson, 2002; Hays, 1994). On the other hand, disputants of contrasting cultures can sometimes opt for non-partial mediators, either low-profile individuals from unrelated backgrounds or high-ranking mediators who carry an authoritative status, such as UN officials (Yassine-Hamdan & Pearson, 2014). Thus, culture, rank, and affinity can matter as structural components of mediation success. These factors would not have been reflected in the civil war data presented earlier, which focused on the staying power and duration of agreements themselves, based on their structural or agency aspects rather than on the agent/structure mix in mediation itself. Thus, researchers should “burrow down” into agent-structure implications at various levels of conflict settlement.

Fact-finding and litigation It has long been recognized that conflicts such as riots and civil disturbances can be driven by rumors and false reports, as in Detroit’s race riots of 1943, which combined false stories of attacks on women with an incendiary wartime environment including housing and workplace discrimination and race-biased policing. Therefore, fact-based “rumor control centers” have been structurally imported into riot management situations to allay false and inflammatory stories. Beyond facilitative fact-finding, however, can be more structured and official forms, especially as attached to litigation. Increasingly, for example, we find that judicial proceedings involving administrative law rely on government fact-finding, arbitration, or adjudication. Official investigations precede and inform formal litigation and are taken seriously by judges as structured fact-finding. However, it has also been argued that this “fact deference” to government agencies in judicial proceedings can violate individual constitutional rights, particularly as to “life, liberty and property,” as well as privacy (Bernick, 2018). A proposed structural remedy would be de novo fact-finding by the court itself in cases involving those rights. Leung (1987) has shown that preferences for agency or structure in litigation can hinge on culture, as when “collectivist” Chinese respondents, presumably valuing solidarity, more frequently than their “individualist” American counterparts, favored mediation and negotiation 88

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over adjudication (see Borbely, 2011). These situations show a complex mix of agency and structure – as when agents’ roles and cultural precepts are handed down and authoritative structures compete for loyalty. We can see, then, that the entire area of litigation as a form of conflict resolution is heavily weighted toward the structural side. Agency certainly appears in such procedures, for example as “plea bargaining.” Individuals’ so-called “risk acceptance/aversion” tendencies influence these decisions, but even in such circumstances the court and quoted law heavily influence the bargaining. The structural side of litigation has been noted as opening the way for parties to bring more cases and assert more rights, for example in the case of LGBTQ* rights assertion in US and Western litigation. The slow evolution of both the “Legal Opportunity Structure” (LOS), through court decisions and lawmaking, and the “Political Opportunity Structure” (POS) through political movements and debate, have opened the way and empowered parties’ agency for a higher volume of litigation on this and other aspects of human rights (Andersen, 2006).

Dialogue and confidence building Dialogue processes have been noted as a way to break down prejudices, come to deeper understandings, and cultivate shared values (Senehi, 2002). Such programs have especially been used to promote interethnic and interfaith cooperation, as in New York’s “Dialogue Project,” whose stated mission has been to “develop mutual trust, relationships and partnerships among ourselves – long time citizens, new immigrants, Palestinians, Israelis and people of diverse faiths and cultures in New York City and beyond (Dialogue Project, 2018). Of course, dialogue sessions, however intense and profound, do not substitute for habitual and ordinary close structural interaction among individuals to build camaraderie and rapport. It has been shown that the density and continuity of interaction, as in cross-cutting group memberships in clubs and civic organizations, tend to build community and break down many social barriers (Brewer, 2005). A variety of methods are employed for confidence and trust building, among individuals, corporate entities, and nations (Holst, 1983). Normally confidence in one another is built through demonstrations of reliability across time. Keeping one’s word and reciprocated concessions gradually build such confidence among adversaries and even among allies, as the US struggle to maintain “credibility” in alliance relations has demonstrated, sometimes even to the detriment of the alliances, as in disagreements about the Vietnam war. Certainly, tearing up treaties and agreements on the spur of the moment dashes such confidence, as has been noted in foreign policy. The premium, therefore, in confidence building can be placed on relative transparency, because if a party is caught cheating or concealing or distorting relevant information or behavior, then the bases for agreement and partnership greatly diminish. Agreements may be structured with phases of compliance, and as the parties pass each successive test phase, they bolster overall confidence that the terms will be fulfilled. In this regard confidence building is very much an agent-to-agent process, which in turn can affect and be affected by developing structures. Thus, the relevant formula (Depelteau, 2008) is not simply (structure←→agency), i.e., structure and agency being co-dependent as posed by Archer (2000), but rather a “relational” approach where actor interacts with actor and they jointly affect or effect structure ([actor←→actor]→structure). Of course, one would expect structure in return reciprocally to rebound and affect the actors jointly in their relationship. In confidence-building terms, the reliable interaction of two (or more) agents conditions favorable structural agreements between them, as suggested earlier in the notion of reciprocated accommodations. 89

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Reconciliation and restorative practice The relational conception brings us to the intriguing possibilities of restorative practice between combatants and ultimately to conceptions of reconciliation. Apology, empathetic and reflective listening, reparations are part and parcel of the process to recognize and overcome grievances and restore relationships. So-called “victim–offender” mediation can play out in prisons where crime victims and their families can seek voluntary meetings with criminal offenders at least to gain face-to-face truth telling and perhaps mutual understanding, if not forgiveness. In political situations this approach has, since the days of South African apartheid, developed into “Truth and Reconciliation” processes, partly to bring closure to victims of political crime and violence, partly to avoid the added trauma of formal judicial proceedings in fragile postconflict environments, and partly to make those societies more stable by reintegrating fighters, exposing wrong-doers, and getting the truth out to the public. Playing out in formalized structural contexts, whether on stages before “Greek tragedy” type audiences in South African townships or under village trees with elders presiding in the Rwandan countryside, such proceedings remain intensely focused on the individual, whether perpetrator or victim. Formal rules may apply, as in South African requirements that confessions be complete and that crimes in question were pursued for political purposes, with structures such as separate, though potentially related, hearings simply for storytelling (Senehi, 2002) – getting grief and pain off victims’ chests – or for requested amnesty, posing more stringent terms. Of course, agency also applies to the effectiveness, or not, of these reconciliatory procedures. Criminal perpetrators as well as victims and their families have to be willing to come forward. In South Africa, for example, it was noted that while the majority of apartheid crimes were committed by white authorities in the government and police, the majority of amnesty seekers were blacks recognizing and apologizing or explaining their acts of violence (see the documentary film Long Night’s Journey into Day).

Conclusions This review of agency and structure as aspects of conflict resolution has shown that both aspects matter in devising and administering means of dispute management, but also that there is no clear evidence that in additive terms they make a consistent difference in outcomes, such as lasting peace agreements in civil wars. However, it does appear that agent interaction, and specifically reciprocity in agent-based concessions (RCA), conditions situations for positive structural effects on outcomes, and that agency itself can be boosted by procedural formats. Conflicts may be sui generis in their intricacies such that the balance of agency and structure may have to be calibrated for each case. We have seen how agency, structure, or both mix and reciprocate in relation to some of the leading types of conflict and modes of conflict settlement, and from negotiation arenas to confidence-building to post-conflict reconciliation. In terms of agency it would appear that every effort should be focused on nurturing incremental mutual concessions and trust building accommodation to lay the groundwork for workable and lasting structural reform. To expect processes and structures to work without such ground-breaking preconditions may be naïve. However, agency may also miss the mark. Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon made a bold departure in unilaterally ending Israel’s formal occupation of Gaza in 2005, paying a significant domestic political price in requiring and subsidizing the departure of some 8,500 Israeli settlers from the territory. Yet lasting peace did not result and a key opportunity may have been missed to dramatically reverse the downward spiral of Palestinian–Israeli relations when Israel did not 90

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make conspicuous offers to aid Gazans in utilizing the facilities left behind. The departure was not made accommodative to the local population. Again, the key is to tailor the agent-structure mix to maximize peace prospects and change people’s thinking, as South African President Nelson Mandela did in engineering a “miracle” peaceful transition in the 1990s. As indicated in the book Invictus, Mandela made remarkable use of his cultural familiarity with the ruling Afrikaners, gained during his decades of imprisonment, gradually to build their trust, symbolized by his accommodation to their prized Springboks rugby team. Mandela made use of the structural moment, which had Afrikaner elites and security forces reeling from strategic defeat in the Angolan civil war and effective international sanctions. It may be true that Mandela was one of a kind in terms of leadership acumen, but his agency should inspire other leaders to seize their peacemaking moments.

Note 1 Indeed, this pattern was somewhat similar to the disarmament and demobilization account in the awardwinning film “Pray the Devil Back to Hell,” about the efficacy of the Liberian interfaith Women’s Peace Movement in disarming ex-fighters when UN and African peacekeepers had initially been unable to do so.

References Andersen, E. (2006). Out of the Closets and into the Courts: Legal Opportunity Structure and Gay Rights Litigation. Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press. Archer, M. (2000). Being Human: The Problems of Agency. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Bapat, N. A. (2005). Insurgency and the Opening of Peace Processes. Journal of Peace Research, 42(6), 699–717. Ben-Dror, E. (2013). The United Nations plan to establish an armed Jewish force to implement the partition plan. Diplomacy and Statecraft, 24(4), 559–78. Benjamin, R. D. (1995). The mediator as trickster: The folkloric figure as professional role model. Mediation Quarterly, 13(1), 3–18. Bernard, S. E., Folger, J. P., Weingarten, H. R., &. Zumeta, Z. R. (1984). The neutral mediator: Value dilemmas in divorce mediation. Mediation Quarterly, 4(1), 61–74. Bernick, E. D. (2018). Is judicial deference to agency fact-finding unlawful? Georgetown University Law Review, 16(1), 27–66. Borbely, A. (2011). Agency in conflict resolution as a manager–lawyer Issue: Theory and implications for research. Negotiation and Conflict Management Research, 4(2), 129–44. Brewer, M. B. (2005). Social identity complexity and outgroup tolerance. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 31(3), 428–37. Byrne, S. (2010). Economic Assistance and Conflict Transformation: Peace Building in Northern Ireland. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Cutcher-Gershenfeld, J. (2014). Interest-based bargaining. In W. K. Roche, P. Teague, & A. J. S. Colvin (Eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Conflict Management in Organizations (pp. 150–67). Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Depelteau, F. (2008). Relational thinking: A critique of co-deterministic theories of structure and agency. Sociological Theory, 26(1), 51–73. DeTurk, S. (2006). The power of dialogue: Consequences of intergroup dialogue and their implications for agency and alliance building. Communication Quarterly, 54(1), 33–51. Dialogue Project (2018). “Shalom Salaam.” Sept. 10. New York: Dialogue Project. www.thedialogueproject.org. Fisher, R., Ury, W., & Patton, B. (2011). Getting to Yes: Negotiating Agreement without Giving in. New York: Penguin Books. Gettleman, J. (2018). “These bodies are our assets”: Blood and grief in an intimate war. New York Times, Aug. 2, www.nytimes.com/by/jeffrey-gettleman Hays, S. (1994). Structure and agency and the sticky problem of culture. Sociological Theory, 12(1), 57–72.

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7 PEACE EDUCATION AND YOUTH A scholarship of engagement study infusing mentorship and the arts Alexia Georgakopoulos, Charles Goesel, and Kristie Jo Redfering Culture, technology, and media leave many distracted and indifferent to social injustice, manifested in bullying, domestic violence, racism, discrimination, inequitable policing, school, community, environmental, and other forms of direct and structural violence, and national paradigms that promote war and violence over peaceful solutions. Social media, news outlets, access to instantaneous and copious amounts of movies and television, video games, and peer groups bombard youth with dysfunctional depictions of behaviors and mindsets surrounding conflict (Huesmann, 2007). Moreover, marginalization and disenfranchisement often place youth on the fringe of society in gangs, poor schools, or on the streets, and can make conflict appear to be necessary rather than a choice. We must give youth effective tools to face different types of conflicts. Peace education awakens the creative spirit. By teaching skillsets to address conflict and ferment peaceful mindsets, mentors can have formidable impact on youth, communities, and the world (Williams, 2011). We hope this chapter will inspire mentors to emerge as peacebuilders and educators who can directly involve and engage youth as key advocates, ambassadors, and peace leaders. This chapter addresses conceptualizations and models surrounding peace education, the innovative role of the arts in conflict resolution, and the important role of evaluation of peace education programs. Moreover, this chapter introduces the peace education mentorship program, READING PEACE PALS that allows youth to emerge as peace leaders while strengthening their literacy through interactions with creative arts and responsive community mentors. Our goal in this chapter is to outline this effective program to support its implementation in organizations and schools nationally and internationally, and to encourage peace education designers to implement its key components such as assessment, mentorship, creativity, and impact.

Models and conceptualization of peace education Practitioners and scholars have posited various, overlapping definitions of peace education, such as “teaching people about the threats of violence and strategies for peace” (Harris, 2008, p. 15). Hilal and Denman (2013) explain it as a process of changing behavior to prevent violence through

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acquiring knowledge, skills, attitudes, and values; such as “listening, reflection, problem-solving, cooperation and conflict resolution . . . nonviolence, love, compassion and reverence for all life . . . Peace education confronts indirectly the forms of violence that dominate society by teaching about its causes and providing knowledge of alternatives” (Harris & Morrison, 2003, p. 9). Peace education maintains that schools must do more than teach basic disciplines and have a duty to transmit “the national (or tribal) received culture, thereby preparing the young generation to contribute to society in its current and anticipated form” (Rosen & Salomon, 2011, pp. 135–6). Rather than teaching critical thinking skills, schools have traditionally taught students to consume and regurgitate policies and historical records based on national narratives interspersed with blind patriotism. Harris (1988) argues that “societies are economically, socially, and politically stratified, and that schools reproduce that stratification; so that schools, rather than ameliorating the class divisions which cause structural violence, replicate and reinforce those divisions” (p. 27). Because knowledge is a source of power (Swain, 2005), the manner and content of distributing knowledge can suppress or empower students. Freire (1972, p. 2) argues that education is a “liberating device” allowing students to transition from passive to active community members; and therefore, has the propensity either to perpetuate violence and social injustice and impede creative problemsolving or to strengthen students’ moral fiber by addressing critical thinking and social justice. Rather than addressing issues of peace as stand-alone programs, such as peer mediation, conflict resolution skills training, or bullying prevention programs, calls have been made for an integration of global themes related to peace in schools. Rossi (2003) argues that the nature of conflict has changed, and therefore we must teach for global citizenship and advocate for a curriculum that addresses complex problems, the roles of culture and identity, and explores conflict resolution and reconciliation. Rodden (2004) proposes that school lessons should address ethical values, “such as justice, civility, responsibility, tolerance, compassion – and forgiveness” (p. 339) by teaching students about our mistakes in history alongside our accomplishments.

Violence prevention education Violence prevention education teaches skills and creates climates for their effective utilization. Institutional roles, including policies and laws as well as individual practices at the school level, and the structural roles of violence in the larger context have bearing on behavioral violence. One large study demonstrated an inverse relationship between social class and household income, and the likelihood of a child, male or female, committing violence (Triplett & Jarjoura, 1997). Welsh et al. (2000) found that poverty surrounding a school impacted student behavioral problems. However, numerous variables are involved and simply being poor does not lead to violence. Englander (2003, p. 39) argues against the probability of separating children from their social class because “it impacts the child’s health, schooling, neighborhood, and family environment.” While low socioeconomic status may increase the risk of children engaging in violence, research suggests that a well-functioning school environment can play a mitigating role (Welsh, 2000). Violence reduction at the school level often includes strategies such as metal detectors, locked campuses, and police presence to control violence through suppression. Other engaging methods teach students to resolve conflicts, express emotions, and learn to effectively communicate through the following: bullying prevention, conflict resolution, peer mediation, anger management, and crisis intervention. These methods address violence preventatively, by imparting the

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knowledge to foster attitudinal development such as tolerance and empathy as well as responsively, by teaching skills to manage conflict and crisis without violence. Different approaches address conflict through different lenses, the use of multiple programs is considered more comprehensive to better prevent violence and build school cultures of peace.

Art and conflict resolution While art has been used to engender violence, promote intolerance, marshal troops, intimidate, torture, and foment conflict (Bergh & Sloboda, 2010), art also builds bridges, reconciles, transforms perceptions, increases cooperation, treats trauma, leads to social reforms, and promotes innovative and creative thinking. Art allows for creating and adopting novel ideas by engaging “all of our senses, awakening our imaginative and intellectual capabilities” (Lawrence, 2005, p. 8), thus allowing people to view the world and any real or perceived conflicts more holistically. “A significant aspect of social life draws from the Arts, so there is practical wisdom – along with a growing body of research that substantiates its impact – in being intentional about their prominent placement” in fields of peace and conflict resolution. While, some may not view the arts “as conventional forms of conflict resolution . . . They are indeed powerful platforms to promote peace, change and conflict transformation” (Farahat et al., 2017, p. 37). In fact, the arts have “much to contribute to the field of conflict resolution” because “artistic engagement facilitates transformative learning and the development of skills and capacities for more constructive engagement with conflict” (Bang, 2016, p. 355). Artists “elevate our souls through their art and promote our awareness” (Barkhordari et al., 2016, p. 226). As such, art can counter negative and violent images portrayed in the media and teach communication, critical thinking skills, and the importance of cooperation and peaceful living. In addition, art educators “critique senseless violence – mistreatment, exclusion, intimidation, bullying, violation, abuse, corruption, murder and war – by unleashing the power of our student’s creativity” (Marshall, 2014, p. 37). Barkhordari et al. (2016) conclude that “art is a key to promoting peace in young learners” (p. 220) by providing “a momentary space where children can act like children and build confidence through the refinement of a skill such as drawing, writing, rapping, or dancing” (Marie & Williams, 2008, p. 8). Williams (2011) explains that “without channels for creative, constructive approaches to conflict issues, youth are often ill equipped to respond to violence” (p. 11).

Evaluation of peace education With the myriad of peace education programs available, it is wise to distinguish programs bolstered with quality and positive outcomes from those with inherent flaws or marginal impacts. Effective assessments of peace education programs encourage accountability and amendment since feedback enhances programs. Variations in peace education programs can impact quality; therefore, it may be valuable to assemble agreed upon elements that make up effective programs. We argue that peace education should serve as a distinct area of study in standard curricula not as supplemental, but as significant studies with the potential to aid individuals throughout the crossroads of conflict, crisis, and change in their lives. While most scholarship has focused on understanding and defining peace education, much less has focused on evaluating programs (Nevo & Brem, 2002); and much of that evaluation has

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lacked consistency (Ashton, 2007). Nevo and Brem (2002) determined that 80–90 percent of reviewed programs were effective or partially effective; however, the rarity of delayed post-test procedures leaves the durability of efforts unclear. Moreover, they found that peace education affects participants’ attitudes and perceptions by preventing them from deteriorating or becoming more averse to peace later even when a program does not change them altogether. While these findings are promising, since attitudes and beliefs are significant to the perpetuation of conflict, Rosen and Salomon (2011) found differences between convictions and beliefs and the ability of peace education to meet positive outcomes. Salomon (2006) asserts that short-term, intensive peace education interventions may result in more observable change in peripheral beliefs, while long-term, extensive interventions may create deeper changes. However, it is often difficult to evaluate long-term impacts of peace education programs (Ashton, 2007; Harris, 2003). Lazarus (2015) explains that evaluation offers opportunities “to articulate a grounded vision of a specific intervention, requiring practitioners to identify attainable goals, concrete outcomes, meaningful indicators, and tangible results – intended and unexpected – of their work” (pp. 163–4). While pre- and post-tests often capture knowledge and skills gained, it is more difficult to capture “the affective, dispositional, and behavioral outcomes” (Harris, 2008, p. 16). Therefore, peace educators must be aware of limitations around expecting instantaneous change, being cognizant that change can take years or decades to achieve (Harris & Morrison, 2003): “sustainable peace requires time, effort, and patience” (Williams, 2011, p. 16).

Reading peace pals mentorship program This program integrates the scholarship of engagement with literacy and peace education by connecting community members with youth.

Scholarship of engagement as a framework for peace education The scholarship of engagement connects knowledge production (teaching, learning, research) with community needs to positively transform society. Barker (2004) explains that the scholarship of engagement reacts “to the disconnect between academics and the public . . . to communicate to public audiences, work for the public good, and, most important, generate knowledge with public participation” (p. 123). This civic engagement seeks to transform research and academic life to be more engaging to community members by focusing on social change and social action. Georgakopoulos and Hawkins (2012) provide vivid applications of this form of scholarship to modern conflict conditions. The current study presents an example of scholarship of engagement as it is seeks to improve understanding of effective peace education training while engaging youth to improve their literacy and knowledge of peace.

Participants Participants in this program included 65 adult mentors and 110 youth from Boys and Girls Clubs approached literacy and peace education through interactive creative methods. Demographics are presented in Table 7.1. 96

Peace education and youth Table 7.1  Subject demographics Mentors

Measure

Count(Percent)

Occupation

Education Mental Health Social Science Student Other Male Female No Response African American Hispanic White Other No Response

18(27.7%) 7(10.8%) 6(9.2%) 10(15.3%) 24(36.9%) 7(10.8%) 48(73.8%) 10(15.4%) 18(27.7%) 14(21.5%) 19(29.2%) 5(7.7%) 9(13.8%)

Youth

Measure

Count(Percent)

Age

6–7 Years Old 8–9 Years Old No Response Grades 1–2 Grades 3–4 No Response Male Female No Response African American Other No Response

42(38.2%) 52(47.3%) 16(14.5%) 65(59.1%) 29(26.4%) 16(14.6%) 49(44.6%) 44(40%) 17(15.5%) 70(63.6%) 23(20.9%) 17(15.5%)

Sex

Race

Grade

Sex

Race

Peace pal program processes Peace Day opened with images and sounds of peace and bullying to orient youth to the topics. Then, youth were paired with mentors to Develop Peace Art or Peace Lyrics and Read Peace Books. In the first activity, youth contemplated and illustrated peace through artwork or by composing lyrics. This provided youth with options based on their interests. Youth then presented the importance and meaning of their art to mentors and peers in small groups. Youth were then asked how they could apply their art concepts to their lives. For the final activity, youth read a peace-focused book and mentors listened and aided when necessary. After reading peace books, youth discussed the connections between the book and their art and were asked what they could do to live more peaceful lives and promote peace. Finally, youth and mentors completed questionnaires.

Methodology The Reading Peace Pal Mentorship Program, created by Dr. Alexia Georgakopoulos through funding from a Quality of Life Grant, aimed to directly impact community members by 97

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addressing literacy and peace education. The mixed-method study sought to uncover perceptions of affective, cognitive, and behavioral learning and impacts/results of the program. It had three distinct complementary studies. The first incorporated a qualitative assessment of youth and their mentors and consisted of open-ended questionnaires and can be reviewed in Georgakopoulos et al. (2017). The second included a quantitative assessment of surveys administered to youth and mentors to measure program effectiveness (Georgakopoulos et al., 2019). The third, and this chapter’s focus, includes rich qualitative analysis of youth created art.

Conceptualizations of outcomes Affective learning Bloom’s (1956) original concept of learning identifies affective and cognitive learning as two areas in its classification, and this continues to be popularly referenced. Affective learning refers to positive internalized emotions that occur when learning ignites passion. The most frequently used measure with consistently high reliability and validity is the original five-factor affective learning measure utilizing a seven-point Likert scale by Andersen (1979), modified by Kearney et al. (1985), and confirmed by Rubin et al. (2004). We altered the questionnaire to address youth and mentors and added open-ended questions to solicit rich descriptions.

Cognitive learning Cognitive learning refers to the process and degree to which knowledge is gained. Cognitive learning assessment has been inconsistent, but a widely accepted measure includes students’ own perceptions of learning by utilizing student self-reports (Richmond et al., 1987; Rubin et al., 2004; Kelley & Gorham, 1988). Mixed-method questionnaires were created to assess cognitive learning by adapting the established instruments, which included Likert and openended questions.

Behavioral learning Behavioral learning, popularized by Skinner (1953), impacts how learners believe they will behave differently based on learning, and has assessed student desire to take classes with the same teacher or similar courses, and comply with behaviors recommended by the course and the overall behavioral intent stimulated by the instructor (Kelley & Gorham, 1988; McCroskey et al., 1996). Based on this conceptualization of behavioral learning, we developed a set of Likert and open-ended questions.

Kirkpatrick’s model of training evaluation The three constructs of learning and one construct pertaining to impacts/results integrated into Kirkpatrick’s (2006) model of training evaluation, which provided the foundation for developing open-ended and survey questions to assess the program’s effectiveness. The four steps of training evaluation in Kirkpatrick’s (2006) model were applied to assess youth and mentor perceptions of the peace education program as follows: 98

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Step 1: Reaction Assessment – How well did youth like the learning process? (Affective Learning) Step 2: Learning Assessment – What did youth learn? (Cognitive Learning) Step 3: Behavior Assessment – What new skills resulted from the learning process for youth? (Behavioral Learning) Step 4: Results Assessment – What are the results/impact of the learning process for youth? (Impact/Results of Learning)

Data findings, analysis, and results Complementary stage one Qualitative Content Analysis (Creswell, 2014) was utilized to analyze participants’ responses to open-ended questionnaires that targeted youths’ and mentors’ perceptions (of youth) in affective, cognitive, and behavioral learning, and impact/results on society. The study yielded 18 categories, 36 subcategories, and over 140 examples from more than 1,000 verbatim youth and mentor responses. All forms of learning were supported with examples supplied by youth and mentors. This study illustrated that youth and mentors perceived that learning about peace had positive impacts on the community and society at large. Given the purpose of this chapter, only the main findings will be highlighted; however, a detailed account can be found in Georgakopoulos et al. (2017). Affective learning assessments resulted in youth learning (affective, cognitive, and behavioral learning) and positive perceptions of Mentor Support, Peace Conceptions, and Behaviors. Regarding cognitive learning, researchers found that youth learned to Treat People Positively, and became more cognizant of Bullying Awareness. In assessments of behavioral learning, researchers found that youth learned Proactive Behaviors, Preventative Behaviors, and Spiritual Behaviors. Youth were also asked if what they learned would impact their community, society, or the world and what actions they could take. Researchers found that Art Advocacy, Literacy Interest, and a desire to be Peace Ambassadors impacted youth. Additionally, responses indicated that youth had undergone Internal and External Transformations, such as wanting to assist and have empathy for others. Mentor responses were analyzed regarding the four assessments based on their perceptions of what youth learned from them and the program. In terms of affective learning, mentor responses detailed what youth learned from them and the book. For example, mentors expressed that the program strengthened youth confidence to speak up when bullying occurs. Cognitive learning assessments revealed that mentors perceived that youth learned Internal and External Techniques and Comprehension, demonstrating that the program aided youth in reflecting on themselves and their surroundings. Behavioral learning assessments of mentor responses demonstrated that youth learned future Bullying Reduction Behaviors and ways to address bullying when it occurs. Mentors also expressed their perceptions regarding what youth learned in terms of valuing their community, society, and world. It was noteworthy that youth indicated a desire to be better individuals who could help their community and environment. In addition, Short- and LongTerm subcategories emerged indicating mentors’ perceptions of the longevity of the program’s lessons. Some believed that youth would continue to want to help others. Others stated that daily reminders would be needed. Responses of long-term impact from mentors were “I think they will learn that love is a form of peace.” This study demonstrates that these programs are essential and vital to today’s youth, and should be integrated and sustained as a part of comprehensive peace education curriculum. 99

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Complementary stage two Three forms of learning and one impact assessment were analyzed with mixed-method approaches that were created and adapted based on the learning measurements and included seven-point Likert scales responses ranging from “bad” to “good” and/or “worthless” to “valuable”, etc. Affective learning was measured by asking youth to rate questions such as: “The training I received by my mentor (Reading Peace Pal) was?” In addition, mentors received their own questionnaires focused on their perceptions of youth affective learning; such as, “The topic/content/subject matter stressed in the Reading Peace Pal Program for the student has been ____ for his/her life?” Cognitive learning was assessed with questions such as, “How much did you learn about peace and conflict from your Reading Peace Pal?” Additionally, mentors were asked questions such as “How much do you perceive that the student learned about how to read from you as a Reading Peace Pal?” Behavioral learning included questions such as “[Will] I will engage in behaviors recommended by my Reading Peace Pal in my life.” In addition, mentors were asked questions such as “[Do] I perceive that the student will engage in behaviors recommended by me as a Reading Peace Pal in his/her life?” Finally, mentors were asked, “To what extent did the student learn from you that you perceive will impact positive results in your community, society, or world?” The questionnaires were analyzed using structural equation modeling, which is a more powerful alternative to multiple regressions (Arminger et al., 1995) because it includes more flexible assumptions, uses multiple indicators per latent variable, affords the opportunity to test models overall rather than coefficients individually, and offers the ability to test models with multiple dependent variables. Youth responded positively to all survey items, indicating their satisfaction with the program and revealed that they perceived that they gained knowledge in all areas of learning. They perceived that their learning would positively impact their lives and communities. Mentor assessments supported similar findings; however, youth responded more optimistically. The match in positive perceptions toward the Reading Peace Pals program provided strong support for its effectiveness in alignment with Kirkpatrick & Kirkpatrick’s (2006) model of training evaluation. The study considered age, grade, gender, and race within the assessment. An important finding was that youth who scored highest on the behavioral learning measure were most likely to use the program in daily life. That is, the proclivity toward behavioral learning appeared to impact the application of learning from the program. Behavioral learning may be a key area to emphasize in peace education training considering the desire for youth to act on what was learned. The final structural equation model was significant and all tests indicated a stable model. In other words, youth and mentors responded positively to all items indicating their overall pleasure with the program. For additional details on the findings of this study see Georgakopoulos et al. (2019).

Complementary stage three This chapter’s focus is to reveal the analysis of arts infused in this peace education and literacy mentorship program. Qualitative content and thematic analysis (Wheelock et al., 2000) were performed on 171 pieces of youth created art. Saturation was used to place art in the proper extant categories of learning or impact/results. Double coding ensured consistency and trustworthiness in category placement with large agreement between researchers. Patterns quickly emerged demonstrating connections between outcomes of the art projects and results of the questionnaires. The student questionnaire responses and art projects supported overall findings; however, the artwork 100

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reflected youths’ vivid expressions and in-depth conceptualizations of peace. This study provides a unique contribution as it provided insight into how youth desired to combat violence and promote peace as exemplified in Figure 7.1. Art provided a unique lens into the perspectives of youth and their view of peace by allowing them to freely express themselves. This free flow of ideas was an excellent brainstorming activity that enabled youth to consider options for promoting peace. Youth art was one of the first tasks and demonstrated the extent of youth conceptions of peace, bullying, and violence at the onset of the study, while survey responses aided in further understanding what youth learned throughout the program. Regarding affective learning, categories of Support, Peace Conceptions, Acceptance, and Behaviors emerged as shown in Table 7.2. Youth wrote about ways to build peace, such as through concerts, cleaning the community, and being in nature as demonstrated in Figure 7.3. Bullying prevention was another category demonstrated in drawings that depicted helping and including others, such as the disabled and those who are alone as well as depictions of family and playground harmony as shown in Figure 7.4.

Figure 7.1  Peace promotion

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Figure 7.2  Spread Peace Table 7.2  Affective learning Learning type

Category

Subcategory

Examples

Affective

Support

Advice

Peace conceptions

Building peace

Acceptance

Accepting self and others Bullying prevention

•• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• ••

Behaviors

Follow rules Do your work Be good Be a role model/example Resolve problems Ask others not to bully Do not bully Accepting myself, even if I am not perfect Accepting others, even when they are not perfect Tell adults Educate Share Speak up Talk it out

Regarding cognitive learning (Table 7.3), the categories that emerged from youth art were to Treat People Positively by being kind and respectful, Understanding Vocabulary, such as being a peace ambassador, and Bullying Awareness. Youth conceptualized peace as representative of 102

Figure 7.3  Peacebuilding

Figure 7.4  Including others

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love, friendship, and that these items play important roles in creating peace as demonstrated in Figures 7.1 and 7.6. Youth associated peace with nature and family as well as respect, equality, and embracing differences. Definitions of violence in drawings were mostly depictions of bullies; however, writings addressed the danger of normalizing violence through video games, music, and movies, gun violence, gangs, drugs, and bombings. This demonstrated that youth are subjected to violent images as well as witnesses to its destructive forces in our culture, communities, and world. Similarly, definitions of harm in drawings were depictions of bullies and being bullied; however, writings also demonstrated hurting others and hurtful words/actions as demonstrated in Figure 7.3. While causes of bullying were not present in drawings, they were demonstrated in writings as perceived differences and marked by poor choices. Furthermore, youth defined bullies as people who want “something they can’t have.” Youth also expressed bullying intervention techniques such as telling an adult, defending others, and expressing power in numbers. The writings addressed talking it out, reporting it, asking the bully to stop, walking away, educating others, and being smart. In addition, actions to take after bullying occurred were expressed in youth writings as cheering others up, expressing love, and being nice as demonstrated in Figure 7.5. This illustrates that youth have been witnesses and/or participants in youth violence and attempts to mitigate that violence. Regarding behavioral learning, youth art depicted Proactive, Preventative, and Spiritual Behaviors (Table 7.4). Proactive behaviors demonstrated prevention techniques such as listening to others, celebrating differences, and being content with oneself. Youth also identified preventative behaviors, such as inclusiveness and approach behaviors, which indicated that youth realized that combatting bullying can be accomplished. In addition, youth expressed spiritual behaviors such as praying for the bully and those being bullied.

Figure 7.5  Definition of peace

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Peace education and youth Table 7.3  Cognitive learning Cognitive

Treating people positively

Being kind

Understanding vocabulary

Peace as a concept

Being respectful

Peace ambassador

Upstander Bullying awareness

Reacting to bullies Bullying prevention

Be nice Help others Treat others who I want to be treated Don’t talk back Belonging Nature Create peace Give peace concerts Clean the community Be a role model/example Resolve problems Stand up for others and ourselves Walk away Be kind Include others Be content Tell adults

Figure 7.6  Conceptions of peace

Peace Education and Internal and External Transformation emerged as categories regarding impact on society (Table 7.5). Youth expressed desires to educate about peace by being role models and assisting others in resolving problems and asking others not to bully (Figure 7.3). Youth expressed desires to educate others about peace and to keep their communities clean. Transformations were demonstrated through artwork expressing empathy and altruism (Figures 7.3 and 7.6). 105

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Figure 7.7  Peace song Table 7.4  Behavioral learning Learning type

Category

Subcategory

Examples

Behavioral

Proactive behaviors

Assistance

•• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• ••

Defend Preventative behaviors

Bullying reduction

Spiritual behaviors

Inclusion Personal Reflection

Help the disabled Celebrate differences Make new friends Listen Tell adults Talk it out Be nice Power in numbers Give to others Cheer others up Pray Yoga

Youth created art that demonstrated that children are impacted by violence and that mentors play vital roles in aiding youth in understanding and conceptualizing violence as well as empowering youth with the knowledge that their actions and reactions to violence make their homes, schools, and communities more peaceful. Additionally, this program’s evaluation methodology 106

Peace education and youth Table 7.5  Learning impact Learning impact

Category impact/result

Subcategory

Examples

Impact

Peace education

Art advocacy

Listen/play music Peace concerts Read Educate Being role models/examples Talk it out Think/be smart Peace starts at home Respect everyone Help others Celebrate differences Stand up for others Clean the community Share

Literacy interest

Peace ambassador Transformation

Internal transformation

External transformation

demonstrates vital transformations can be captured when youth have safe outlets to express themselves with the guidance of responsible community mentors. For further information on the content analysis of youth-created artwork and narratives, see Goesel (2019).

Conclusion The Reading Peace Pals program is effective and empowers youth by giving them platforms to intentionally, creatively, and interactively discuss peace while supporting literacy. This community mentorship program is youth centered and encourages “youth ownership” of peace. Rather than talking at or down to youth, the program engages youth by meeting them where they are and having them share their own meanings and goals for peace in their lives. Thus through this program, youth have the potential to develop tools to better understand and respond to conflict. This program provided them with concrete insights on how to effectively address conflict. The Reading Peace Pals mentorship program demonstrates “a tie between the worth of the Arts as a tool for teaching literacy and a greater sense of self merit, identity, and empowerment” (Williams, 2011, p. 51). The power of art emerged in this study by providing youth with a voice to share their conceptualizations of peace. We recommend infusing arts in peace education as rich elements to build peace. This program countered negative images youth face by affording them safe places to express and nurture their natural intrinsic beliefs and feelings while working with community mentors. It is through these programs that youth can transform from passive beings operating in a violent world, to active and positive change agents. This model for spreading peace requires empowering youth to realize that their voices and actions are fundamental for creating a more peaceful connected world. The popular saying that it takes a village to raise children is the inspiring theme that resonated throughout this program and underscores mentors’ roles, which serves as the impetus to deliver this program on national and international levels. We hope this chapter encourages peace educators to consider the powerful roles of mentors. Moreover, this program has profound implications for training, research, and practice by empowering youth and inspiring mentors. It reveals how the scholarship of engagement involves ordinary citizens in the community who emerge as mentors to aid youth in promoting change and taking social action. It reveals the 107

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nexus between research, training, and practice that has positive impacts for individuals, communities, and the broader society and world. The authors of this chapter encourage this type of scholarship in addressing the imperative of youth peace education for the present and future.

References Andersen, J. (1979). Teacher immediacy as a predictor of teaching effectiveness. In D. Nimmo (Ed.), Communication Yearbook 3 (pp. 543–59). New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Books. Arminger, G., Clogg, C., & Sobel, M.E. (Eds.) (1995). Handbook of Statistical Modeling for the Social and Behavioral Sciences. New York: Plenum Press. Ashton, C. V. (2007). Using theory of change to enhance peace education evaluation. Conflict Resolution Quarterly, 25(1), 39–53. Bang, A. H. (2016). The restorative and transformative power of the arts in conflict resolution. Transformative Education, 14(4), 355–76. Banks, J. A. (1995). Multicultural education: Historical development, dimensions, and practice. In J. A. Banks & C. A. M. Banks (Eds.), Handbook of Research on Multicultural Education (pp. 3–24). New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Barker, D. (2004). The scholarship of engagement: A taxonomy of five emerging practices. Higher Education Outreach and Engagement, 9(2), 123–37. Barkhordari, M, Nasrabadi, N. B., Heidari, M. H., & Neyestani, M. R. (2016). The importance of artbased curriculum in peace education. Review of European Studies, 8(2), 220–31. Bergh, A., & Sloboda, J. (2010). Music and art in conflict transformation: A review. Music and Arts in Action, 2(2), 2–17. Bloom, B. (1956). Taxonomy of Educational Objectives: Handbook I: Cognitive Domain. New York: David McKay. Boggs, G. L. (2009). Response to part 6: Youth and social justice in education. In W. Ayers, T Quinn, & D. Stovall (Eds.), Handbook of Social Justice in Education. (pp. 552–24). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Creswell, J. W. (2014). Research Design: Qualitative, Quantitative, and Mixed Methods Approaches. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Englander, E. K. (2003). Understanding Violence. Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum. Farahat, F., Georgakopoulos, A., & Goesel, C. (2017). The intersection of improv and mediation. In A. Georgakopoulos (Ed.), The Mediation Handbook: Research, Theory, and Practice (pp. 37–47). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Freire, P. (1972). Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Penguin. Georgakopoulos, A., & Hawkins, S. T. (2012). Working through organizational and community conflict with scholarship of engagement: Dramatic problem solving facilitator model (DPSFM) and interactive management (IM). In C. L. Duckworth & C. D. Kelley (Eds.), Conflict Resolution and the Scholarship of Engagement: Partnerships Transforming Conflict (pp. 72–101). New York: Cambridge Scholars Georgakopoulos, A., Duckworth, C., Silverman, Y., & Redfering, K. J. (2017). Supporting literacy and peace education with youth: A community engagement mentorship study. Peace Studies, 54(4), 24–40. Georgakopoulos, A., Goesel, C., & Hardigan, P. (2019). A study of the effectiveness of a youth peace education program. Peace Studies Journal, 12(1) , 3–24. Goesel, C. (2019). Youth’s conceptualization of peace, violence, and bullying and the strategies they employ to address the violence and bullying in their lives. Doctoral dissertation. Nova Southeastern University, Ft. Lauderale, FL. Harris, I. M. (1988). Peace Education. Jefferson, NC: McFarland. Harris, I. M. (2003). Peace education evaluation. Paper presented at American Education Research Association Conference (AERA), Chicago, IL. Harris, I. M. (2008). History of peace education. In M. Bajaj (Ed.), Encyclopedia of Peace Education (pp. 15–23). Charlotte, NC: Information Age. Harris, I. M., & Morrison, M. L. (2003). Peace Education (12th Edition). Jefferson, NC: McFarland. Hilal, K. T., & Denman, B. D. (2013). Education as a tool for peace? The King Abdullah Scholarship Program and perceptions of Saudi Arabia and UAE post 9/11. Higher Education Studies, 3(2), 24–40. Huesmann, L. R. (2007). The impact of electronic media violence: Scientific theory and research. Adolescent Health, 41(6), S6–S13. Kearney, P., Plax, T. G., & Wendt-Wasco, N. J. (1985). Teacher immediacy for affective learning in divergent college classes. Communication Quarterly, 33(1), 61–74.

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8 UNPRODUCTIVE CHALLENGES THAT IMPEDE INTERNATIONAL ENVIRONMENTAL CONFLICT INTERVENTION EFFORTS Brian Polkinghorn and Brittany Foutz Environmental conflicts that arise in the international arena should be placed in a unique class of conflict management practice. Basic mediation research and domestic environmental conflict case study findings do not capture the intricacies and nuances in the international arena. For everything we think we know about international environmental conflicts there are many more basic questions that arise. A prime question is what evidence is there to suggest that mediation is an effective process that leads to self-sustaining agreements in such cases? What research do we have that focuses on the unique challenges in the international arena on contextual and external factors or mediator characteristics impacting such endeavors? Perhaps just as important is the question of what makes an effective international mediator? We do better here when it comes to examining the impact of mediator conduct, behaviors, and tactics (Polkinghorn & McDermott, 2006) and the impact of mediator styles on such things as breaking impasse, creating turning points, and other tactics or strategies with these styles impacting process outcomes (McDermott et al., 2002). However, this research does not focus on international applications, and so it offers only limited generalizability. Others have done an excellent job in examining specific types of mediators, such as the power and facilitative functions, and their respective ability to assist parties in international conflicts in not only reaching an agreement but on how well it is then implemented and enforced (Vuković, 2014). But let’s flip the coin and ask another question that is given little attention. In many internationally based environmental disputes there are several unwelcome and unproductive roadblocks that are in plain sight and yet we spend less time on them than we do on topics that lead to successful mediation endeavors. In an effort to shed some light and bring a little balance to the discussion we focus on just a few of the highly predictable unproductive issues.

Framing actions that impact international environmental conflict International environmental conflict can be quite complex. The “environment” can mean just about anything related to the physical or biological environment. Transboundary natural resource management is one area where several issues can arise all at one time. Cross-border human intrusion into otherwise pristine environments can impact animal habitat and territorial 110

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ranges, breeding, and migration patterns, as well as create a wide array of degradation in the form of water quality and contamination, soil erosion, and air quality. As human populations grow and migrate, the search for more arable land and fixed and fleeting food sources have led to the uneven depletion of natural habitat and various plant and animal stocks. Conflicts arise between groups within and between countries and territories where hunting and trapping quotas impact traditional lifestyles. Free range cattle ranching practices need larger and larger ranges for their flocks to graze and sometimes this leads to conflict with pastoral communities, which is another manifestation of territorial conflict and control. Given the source of the conflict is the cocoon within which we live – the environment – the stakes can be high when it comes to cooperation and control. Larger global environmental dynamics can also arise due to regional or global sources. Aquifer depletion can lead to salt-water tidal intrusion into potable water sources and thus cut off access to quality potable water for humans, cattle, and crops. Slash-and-burn farming techniques strip topsoil composition, which is the source of nutrients for plants. This is one of the most serious sources of environmental degradation. Once soil is eroded this prevents the growth of vegetation, which not only helps to rebuild soil, but also stabilizes the local microclimate. It is hypothesized that ancient populations on Easter Island, Mesoamerica, and the Fertile Crescent vanished, in part, due to over-grazing and forest depletion for building projects. Salt-water intrusion, slash-and-burn farming, and soil erosion have been blamed for the destruction (and desertification) of some early advanced civilizations in the Middle East and the Americas.

Framing international environmental conflict as a social system conflict Environmental conflict is, at its core, a social conflict. Without parties no conflict exists. The natural, biological, and physical environment is, in one sense both the substantive area in dispute as well as the context within which the dispute resides. The science behind the physical and biological environment is difficult to understand completely and yet some parties claim to possess this knowledge. This gets to the question of who can legitimately claim that they have the knowledge, skills, and authority to represent the environment. Legally and politically that would fall, in most cases, on the highest political office holder in a state, province, or country, say a governor or national leader. After that any international treaty, such as the Law of the Seas, places decisionmaking in an international organization with which, in theory, sovereign states abide. This added layer of human complexity is unique to the international arena. The type of government also plays a role in how conflict is carried out. We know that in more liberal democratic systems ordinary citizens can form interest groups to petition their governments to have their issues or grievances addressed. It is one of the core aspects of democracy and even though it can make for “messy” decisionmaking, in the end, on average outcomes are qualitatively better. When many voices and perspectives are involved, the final decision should be implementable and meet more needs than if political leaders in less democratic systems arbitrarily made the decision. Then again, more autocratic or less democratic governments have shown how they can manipulate the environment with relative ease. Just look at the swath of environmental devastation that was unveiled after the fall of the former Soviet Union and Eastern European nations under communism.

Choosing your tools is a matter of perspective You have probably heard the saying that “if the only tool you have is a hammer then all your problems look like nails.” Let’s modify that slightly and say that if you are suspicious of others, 111

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think every decision should be settled by fighting, and the world is a hard and evil place, you might see conflict as a struggle. This limited perspective is, unfortunately, abundant and serves to rob people, organizations, institutions, and governments of resources. More importantly, it robs the parties of the creative power present within the conflict. Think of the atom. In a stable state it is rather mundane, but if we are able to split it we can unleash tremendous power. Conflict is like an atom waiting to be harnessed unleashing creative ideas. So, conflict does not have to be contentious. Indeed, it can lead to creative change that influences entire societies for generations. For decades we have been working on practical and principled strategies that elucidate core approaches to effective conflict intervention and problemsolving. Some of the cornerstone contributions are seen in the writings of experienced practitioners such as Fisher and Ury (1983) in their seminal work, Getting to Yes. In it they outline five basic principles to negotiation. Carpenter and Kennedy (1988) further elaborate another ten principles in Managing Public Disputes where they lay out core strategies and process preparation that frames contentious issues in a productive manner. In Dealing with an Angry Public, Susskind and Field (1996) elaborate six principles and approaches to dealing with parties that serve to prevent or mitigate negative consequences of a decision. It also trains the ultimate decisionmakers in a more humane approach to dealing with angry constituents. In their book Designing Conflict Management Systems, Constantino and Merchant (1995) contribute yet another six principles focusing on a systemic approach to problemsolving where structural sources are examined. The list can go on, but the point is that scholar-practitioners have plenty of good, experientially derived advice to dispense. Countering these solid intervention principles are a range of ineffective and contentious approaches that are often deployed by parties who approach conflict as combat. Some adopt the tactic of unleashing a frontal assault on other parties and completely sidestep issues. Their mission is not collaborative problemsolving; rather, it is search-and-destroy. Indeed, the tendency to link some fixed aspect of the other parties’ identity as the source of conflict creates an untenable situation where people are forced, from the start, into a strategic, defensive disadvantage simply because of who they are. In a disingenuous way these attacks are explained away or even justified by tilting sociological theory in such a way as to justify or give credence to generalizations and stereotypes whereby hate (racism, sexism, heterosexism, ethnocentrism, etc.) is rationalized and appropriate. Some of us are old enough to remember the days before the sociology of hate took a strong hold of some portions of the collective conscious and public decisionmaking. When it arose it was seen as tacky, lacking in respect and appreciation of the other. It also deflated any recognition of what others contribute to society and is a wholesale rejection of acceptance of others. Tactics like these are unconscionable and immoral and yet we have seen this being deployed more often in recent years. Some groups properly use (while others manipulate) a variety of legal tools (laws, treaties, regulatory arrangements) to advance their agendas. This raises the question of the use of the law in regard to its original intent. Some groups have leveraged the law in ways never envisioned by those who wrote it. For instance, the Law of the Seas probably did not intend to allow countries to harvest whales at pre-treaty levels, but some found a loophole in the scientific research of these animals to do just that. It probably also did not intend to unleash land (really sea) grabs by larger countries over smaller countries as is being done in the South China Sea. The law is designed as a shield from harm, not as a sword to inflict injury. Increasingly we see case after case where special interests at a global level deploy these tactics. This can move conflict into legal arenas where judges are asked to rule most often on procedural issues, and increasingly on substantive matters for which they have no expertise, and legal interpretation really belongs to 112

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other branches of government. Other legal and extra-legal tools are civil disobedience, protest, sabotage, divestment, boycotts, or sanctions. None of these tactics induce cooperation. Why is it that with such solid principles of effective problemsolving, and the means to get people to the table, do we find ourselves in increasingly harsh international environmental dilemmas that often do not lead to optimal solutions? A few of the aggravating factors that we should keep an eye on are provided here for the reader to consider.

Unrealistic expectations: What are we asking mediators to do? Let us start with the hired help. Are we setting mediators up for failure when we place unrealistic expectations upon them? Does this lead to restricted utility and ultimately unwelcome dynamics that could have been easily prevented? By examining what we are foisting on mediators, and what parties are actually asking for, we can easily see the disconnection and ultimately a major source of unproductive outcomes. Perhaps the most familiar industry-wide accepted set of mediator characteristics is to act in a neutral, unbiased, and impartial manner. There is a problem with these character traits though; they are unrealistic and in many instances cannot be carried out in full. Most importantly, the parties are not asking for these characteristics. We know from research presented below that parties, especially those embroiled in highly complex international environmental conflicts, are telling us they need something entirely different, but first we should quickly examine the strengths and weaknesses of each core industry approved characteristic. Neutral usually refers to not deliberately assisting or supporting any of the parties in conflict. Neutrality can be further parsed into the areas of process neutrality, so the intervener does not procedurally favor or impede parties, creating an uneven or unfair advantage for any party; relationship neutrality, which typically supports the argument for outside strangers as interveners although we know that in many cultures and in specific dispute arenas the opposite is often necessary; and, finally, substantive neutrality, which generally refers to interveners abstaining from detailed substantive discussions that can impact, manipulate, or otherwise frame issues in ways other then what the parties desire (Polkinghorn, 2000). To be unbiased generally means that a mediator does not, or will not, show an unfair tendency to believe that some parties or their ideas are better than others. Izumi (2010) makes a persuasive argument that implicit bias exists and mediator neutrality is a myth. Bias, be it conscious or unconscious, permeates the process and, in some cases, when parties detect it, they can either call it out or become suspicious not only of the mediator but of the process. Finally, to be impartial means that the mediator treats all parties equally with the intent to provide a fair process that is perceived as “balanced,” not favoring one or another party. Impartiality can, in the eyes of the parties, impact the sense of what parties see as a fair “exchange” or perhaps a sense of adequate “reciprocity” even in cases where one party is clearly in the wrong and must do more, so to speak, to set the situation right and otherwise make the aggrieved party “whole” again. In other words, the mediator is conveying impartiality where the current state of affairs is clearly perceived to be imbalanced, unfair, or even unjust. Maintaining a neutral stance, practicing unbiased conduct, and behaving in an impartial manner is a mainstay of many mediation workshops and training programs as well as in academic courses. It is understandable that these laudable character traits are presented as a part of these programs, and it is not our aim here to say that they should be removed. Indeed, if anything, they should be nuanced and elaborated on so that mediators can keep these important character traits in mind when they interact with parties. It might be that, in time, other means of describing the mediator stance within the process comes to include a sense of a caring yet 113

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professional distance in regard to the parties, thus relieving mediators from having to emulate character traits that are difficult enough to maintain in real life. In summary, this is what the leaders in the field of mediation say is important although there are other distinct ways to examine mediator conduct within the process to explore what really is happening and what parties indicate is effective. It is clear that some leaders in the field take serious issue with this more expansive or somewhat fluid definition of mediation. That is ok. There need to be the purists in our field as well as the exploratory, experimentalist types like Bernard Mayer (2004) or Ken Cloke (2001) in order to have a healthy dynamic debate regarding effective intervention in social conflict. One of my mentors, the late Dr. James Laue, found discussions relating to modified forms of mediation antithetical if not a frontal assault on the more pure form he championed with great success. Jim Laue arguably earned the latitude to be a torchbearer for mediation (as he is known in the US), having intervened in some of the most prominent mediation cases during the civil rights era. In 1968 Jim Laue was in Memphis, Tennessee, mediating the garbage collector’s strike and was on the second floor of the Lorraine Hotel when Dr. King was mortally wounded. There is a photo flashed around the world showing people standing next to Dr. King’s prostrate body and pointing off into the distance. That draws away from the main focal point. What is less well known, but clearly visible and obvious is the real focal point: it is the man lower in the photo, kneeling next to Dr. King, cradling his head. That was Jim Laue. Context, for Jim Laue, was a key element to maintaining a more purist form of meditator intervention. Then again, another one of my professors, Dr. John Burton, had a decidedly different take and thought that culture and context were a bit over-emphasized in the effectiveness of third-party conflict intervention and that a reasoned and structured process would, regardless of the parties, lead to a logical conclusion. In an almost deterministic way, if you closely follow his problemsolving process, he posits, it will lead to a logical outcome. The point is, there is a wide range of ideas and perspectives on third-party intervention and each practitioner and researcher has her/ his take on it. Mediation is a mixture of art and science. On the science side of the equation we have the means to examine effective mediator behavior and conduct. For instance, at our center we have conducted survey and behavioral coding research that is demonstrating the wide range of activities mediators use in live mediation contexts. We can see through survey and behavior coding research what mediators say in direct relation to parties’ dialogue and code it to establish patterns that impact resolution. We also know that the more experienced mediators often defy the usual classification of mediator styles such as facilitative, directive, inclusive, evaluative, narrative, and transformative (Polkinghorn & McDermott, 2006). This is a promising research protocol as it strips away arbitrary definitions and labels and looks directly at what behavior/dialogue interaction occurs in live settings. This is a good starting point to reexamine some largely untested mediator characteristics. Finally, and most often overlooked, is a view of mediation that is being strangely ignored; that of parties. If we simply ask, “what do you want to see in a mediator?” the answers are enlightening. Two things happen. Definitions and descriptions become blurred, characteristics and traits (such as neutrality, unbiased, and impartial) are rearranged and context is felt quite strongly.

Ignoring what participants say they want in a mediator So what do parties typically ask for in international mediators? Research by Bercovitch and Schneider (2000) lists the top ranked characteristics as: reasonability, acceptability, knowledgeability, intelligence, stamina, sense of humor, trust-worthiness, credibility, competency, 114

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evenhandedness, and finally, rounding out the list, are neutrality and impartiality. Other characteristics mentioned by researchers include: motives, leverage, and status (Kleiboer, 1996). Kydd (2003) indicates that the characteristics are inter-related. For instance, credibility is based on individuals’ trust in a mediator’s information provision. Likewise, mediator credibility has been tied to several factors such as dependability. Things mediators do also impact the perceptions of the parties. For instance, gathering timely information and then sharing it quickly fosters credibility. Savun (2008) discusses other conditions that impact perceptions of mediators. If a mediator has information about one of the disputants in a conflict it can impact parties’ perceptions of their acceptability. Does the mediator seem to harbor a bias about the other disputant and how do they act on it? Is the mediator a “major power” that can bring lots of incentives or disincentives to the table to get parties moving? Who does the mediator know? How does the mediator’s connection assist the parties? Is the mediator heavily networked and can he or she bring some harmony to the group? Beber (2012) discusses bias and “channels of influence” or how the conflict, parties, or even the mediator connect into larger social networks. Do the mediator’s channels impact information flow and other items that can help frame and support issues? In some cases, parties want a mediator because his or her government has resources and connections that one or more party deems to be valuable. Can the mediator harness a structural and procedural framework to ascertain, relay, facilitate and manage information? These characteristics should be more thoroughly researched and discussed, as they will influence who is chosen as a mediator in international cases.

Can we please separate the people from the problem? All too often identity politics becomes the entire focus and means of engagement. Some parties refer to conflict engagement as group “struggle,” although this might happen less if people did not frame the issues in such a polarized way. Needless to say, this framework often leads to suboptimal solutions that leave most parties dissatisfied. If we simply give in and come to rely on identity politics as a primary frame for international environmental conflict two highly predictable things typically happen. The first is the social aspects of the conflict immediately come to dominate the discourse at the expense of everything else in the environment. This can lead to further environmental problems that propel conflict even further down the line for another group or generation to finally figure out. The other outcome is the prolonged tension between groups may become the central focus, leading to hardened positions, increased investment in fighting, and drawing in outside parties. This is what we call the beginning of the death spiral or two parties and one parachute. Take for example the simple act of providing an option for solving a problem. When identity politics becomes the primary focus, Festinger’s (1957) cognitive dissonance and attribution theory comes into play. The option is judged good or bad not based on some objective criteria but on who suggested it. This happens on a regular basis and is not confined to international environmental disputes. If problemsolving is undertaken in a collective manner, then it works to mitigate the identity politics filter from rejecting good ideas. In other words, effective problemsolving, which is the core of effective mediation, can act as an antidote to some of the shortcomings of identity politics that often severely restrict creative thinking and acceptance of new ideas.

Wiggling out of an agreement As mentioned earlier, the Law of the Seas is a great example where interpreting an agreement leads to more disputed issues. I worked for several years on a case where the level of trust 115

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between six parties was thought to be insurmountable. The country had just concluded a civil war and the previous government had been deposed. An agreement was eventually signed by the surviving political parties on how to move together to rebuild the country and establish some sense of normalcy. There were many challenges, one of which was that the parties had extensive relationships with neighboring countries, and some of those relationships were quite strained. When it came time to implement specific points outlined in the agreement different interpretations predictably arose and wreaked havoc. One of the groups taking part in the new government was still providing assistance to insurgents in the neighboring country that had brokered the talks. Likewise, other political groups found ways to reinterpret the agreement so as to leverage their strategic positions. When it came time for international players to get involved in the execution of the agreement the uniform response was “all your ideas worked in other places but not here.” While this is partially accurate, the collective stalling tactic gave the parties’ time to figure out their own unique way forward. Although this took many more years and outside pressure came to bear on the conflict, one thing did seem to bring them together. Water, lots of water. The country has one of the world’s greatest stores and to be able to harness electricity from it and to perhaps even channel it to thirsty southern neighbors was touted as a unifying factor. Although water was not an issue in the agreement someone was smart enough to search for anything that would create a sense of common ground. Luckily, given that the reinterpretations created so many headaches on the implementation end of the process it may have made this search easier because people were sincere about getting past the war.

The ultimate sin: Politicization of science The climate is changing. This is due in large part to human activities and other naturally occurring events found on a global and astronomical scale. Earth and environmental scientists study the impact these complex systems and processes have on the planet. The really extraordinary scientists freely share information and eagerly explain to others, in terms they understand, what they are studying and where we are heading. With so much at stake and an all-inclusive global impact, there should be little patience for political or ideological distractions and yet there is the constant, unnecessary bickering. The ultimate sin has been the political weaponization of science. Misusing science for political purposes comes from many directions. It not only aggravates and polarizes parties it also does damage to the reputation of science. It has cheapened the discourse and lowered many scientific communities’ pursuit of the truth. The wholesale politicization of science, at the expense of meaningful and necessary collaboration, is the real man-made disaster. Here is a simple idea; in order to solve a problem we must first know what the sources are. Yet, even here, the discussion has been transformed into a political debate. With activists and advocates on many sides putting undue pressure on scientists to search for what others would call their sense of accurate information (propaganda), we have watched the entire problemsolving process suffer. Instead of working together and tackling great challenges of our time, such as what we saw years ago when we searched for and found the cure for infant paralysis and polio, we have, in this hyper politicized environment, turned science into a side-show prop in political theater where, regrettably, some scientists have dropped any pretense of objectivity and, instead of educating the public with their expertise, have willfully and even eagerly joined the partisan fray. This shortsighted tactic is nothing short of a disaster and is casting a long shadow over sciencebased public policy. Worse, these antics have harmed the most important currency of science: credibility. From credibility comes trust and from trust comes the bedrock of problemsolving so the whole enterprise suffers. 116

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As an example, I have been, for many years, on an exclusive email list organized by a highly prestigious international scientific organization, where issues of climate change are the focus of discussion. My original intention in accepting the invitation was to contribute a voice to how we frame issues that arise from highly contentious public debates. I am not an earth or biological scientist, although I do respect their expertise and knowhow. When used properly, their work can have an incredible impact educating parties on issues and effectively help to highlight where common understanding and common ground can be found. Sadly, even among this group of highly esteemed scientists the frailties of human nature regularly arise. We have folks who, instead of being transparent and open to honest dialogue, constantly disparage others with whom they disagree and search for ways to “combat” and thus discredit others. This violates the first basic principle of interest-based negotiation and effective problemsolving; that is, to focus on the problem not the person. If it happened a few times then a course correction could be possible, yet when it occurs on a regular basis we see a group of scientists slipping into the spiral of unmanaged conflict where the first slippery step is to allow sides to form. Since when has it become necessary to form sides? When a person begins to engage in cerebral hygiene – that is, accepting what makes sense or supports what you “know” to be the truth and rejecting other information that quite likely helps build a most complex picture of reality – then it reinforces the narrowing of one’s cognitive bandwidth. We are sure Thomas Kuhn would have agreed that this is a prime example where “normal science” combats the new creative thinking that leads to paradigm shifts and a new understanding. Once this occurs it is one short step to the hardening of positions. In this case one of the “in-group” scientists was caught red-handed fabricating information about an opposition group and releasing this false information to the public as though the other group produced it. You don’t have to be a scientist to see that this was designed and calculated to harm the other side and hopefully escalate the conflict enough so that the other side would capitulate. What was so incredibly disappointing was that when he was caught red-handed, instead of saying to him that, for the good of the cause, he should resign and disassociate from the group, several members sent out sympathetic supportive messages. “Oh, what a poor guy and a terrible thing to have happened to you.” Really? What about “what were you thinking?” There was no attribution whatsoever connecting this enormous lapse in judgment and wholesale abandonment of common sense to his complete loss of any grip on a moral compass. And to think this is a member of the National Academy of Science and someone who cannot hold himself accountable and clearly lacks respect for others. This group has descended further into the spiral by committing resources to combat others. The core means of problemsolving is dialogue, but as the conflict escalates the tactic to stop communicating with those we disagree with increases. Likewise, while it may seem natural to enlist the help of others, it serves to expand the conflict or to “go outside” the group, meaning more people can get their hands on the levers which can pull the conflict in a direction no one intended – that is, of course, if we are assuming everyone is looking for a solution. From this approach perceptions become distorted. There is enough name calling to check that off the list. In the end, after many ill-advised and maladaptive responses, the obvious conclusion is that a sense of crisis emerges. What created this problem? Well, each one of us needs to acknowledge what we know and then seek out those who have other knowledge that could be helpful to joint problemsolving. Serenity comes when we know what we are in control of and being at peace on other issues. Perhaps one core source of the problem is our desire to stretch and distort our sense of serenity – being at peace with what we have now – to encapsulate feelings of control, certainty, and predictability. If we want to be right all the time or at all costs then when confronted with 117

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questions about our starting point in how we arrived at our logic, our data collection methodology, then we might see a secondary, ego-driven conflict arise. When egos are high, trust is low, and when mouths are opened and ears shut then we can expect a problem. So even when we make simple inquiries relating to such things as how, when, and under what circumstances did you gather your data or what assumptions did you employ to “smooth” the data or how and under what guidelines do we develop models and analyze data – these become tar pits of conflict.

Things we can do to improve our impact on international environmental conflict resolution Some environmental conflicts can be managed through policies, regulations, rules, laws, and treaties. Most of these mechanisms are designed around the idea that environmental conflict requires a systemic approach and thus quite a few forms of knowledge and experience are necessary. However, most of the sources of conflict that lead to unproductive challenges are “self-inflicted wounds,” which often cause the most pain and take much longer to heal. Some of the sources mentioned in this chapter revolve around creating veils of misperception, attacking others by misattribution, overcommitting to a position due to egotism and going down with the ship, diverting and deflecting issues by distorting the problem through identity politics, and seeking various means to disingenuously manipulate objective science-based lines of inquiry to fit one’s ideological worldview. All these sources can be traced back to human imperfections. In other words, the most unproductive sources of international environmental conflict are not found in the issues we are grappling over but in the many ways we have been trained or conditioned and accustomed to confronting others and our problems. There is a saying – junk in leads to junk out. That means if we start off on the wrong track and frame the source of the conflict incorrectly (or even dishonestly), or ask loaded questions that are designed to put others on the defensive, and to try to outmaneuver others at all costs, then we should expect sub-optimal outcomes – a.k.a. junk. There are ways to address these issues and it begins with the implementation of some of the principles of effective conflict intervention discussed earlier. It also requires other measures, some of which the field of conflict analysis and effective prevention has done a poor job of in our training of our students. We do not spend enough time on showing how introspection and self-reflection build the character traits that we need to manage others who engage in unproductive behaviors and activities. Along those same lines we need to critically examine how we are setting students up for potential failure. With so much going on in international environmental conflicts the last thing we need are more unrealistic demands placed on us, dictating who we say we are, what it is we say we are doing, and thus constraining how it is we can get things done. We need more field-based applied research on what it is effective mediators do to manage many of these unproductive roadblocks and to build on that so that we create models that actually come to approximate reality. This also requires better and more sophisticated methods and tools.

References Beber, B. (2012). International mediation, selection effects, and the question of bias. Conflict Management and Peace Science, 29(4), 397–424. Bercovitch, J., & Schneider, G. (2000). Who mediates? The political economy of international conflict management. Journal of Peace Research, 37(2), 145–65. Carpenter, S., & Kennedy, W. J. D. (1988). Managing Public Disputes. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Cloke, K. (2001). Mediating Dangerously: The Frontiers of Conflict Resolution. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.

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Unproductive challenges Constantino, C., & Merchant, C. (1995). Designing Conflict Management Systems: A Guide to Creating Productive and Healthy Organizations. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Festinger, L. (1957). A Theory of Cognitive Dissonance. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Fisher, R., & Ury, W. (1983). Getting to Yes: Negotiating Agreement without Giving in. New York: Penguin Press. Izumi, C. (2010). Implicit bias and the illusion of mediator neutrality. Washington University Journal of Law and Policy, 34, 71–155. Kleiboer, M. (1996). Understanding success and failure of international mediation. Journal of Conflict Resolution, 40(2), 360–89. Kydd, A. (2003). Which side are you on? Bias, credibility, and mediation. American Journal of Political Science, 47(4), 597–611. McDermott, E. P., Jose A., Obar, R., Polkinghorn B., & Bowers, M. (2002). Has the EEOC hit a home run? An evaluation of the EEOC mediation program from the participants’ perspective. Advances in Industrial and Labor Relations, 11(1), 1–40. Mayer, B. (2004). Beyond Neutrality: Confronting the Crisis in Conflict Resolution. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Polkinghorn, B. (2000). The social origins of environmental resource conflict: Exposing the roots of tangible disputes. In S. Byrne, C. Irvin, P. Dixon, B. Polkinghorn, & J. Senehi (Eds.), Reconcilable Differences: Turning Points in Ethnopolitical Conflict (pp. 79–95). West Hartford, CT: Kumarian Press. Polkinghorn, B., & McDermott, E. P. (2006). Applying the comprehensive model to workplace mediation research. In M. Herrman (Ed.), The Blackwell Handbook of Mediation: A Guide to Effective Negotiation (pp. 148–74). New York: Blackwell. Savun, B. (2008). Information, bias, and mediation. International Studies Quarterly, 52(1), 25–47. Susskind, L., & Field, P. (1996). Dealing with an Angry Public: The Mutual Gains Approach to Resolving Disputes. London: Free Press. Vuković, S. (2014). International mediation as a distinct form of conflict management International Journal of Conflict Management, 25(1), 61–80.

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9 LOCAL PEACEBUILDERS’ OWNERSHIP DEVELOPMENT IN SOUTHEAST ASIA SungYong Lee

This study examines how grassroots agencies in Southeast Asia have developed locally driven models of peacebuilding. Over the last two decades, local ownership has been a buzzword in the international peacebuilding sector. A large number of peace-supporting organizations, including the UN, have highlighted national ownership or local ownership as a key to successful conflict transformation, while academic debates have examined its significance from normative, theoretical, and practical perspectives. Despite these efforts, however, mainstream field programs for promoting local ownership still tend to be in the paternalistic form of capacity building, leaving local actors limited opportunities for developing their own models of peacebuilding (Krause & Jütersonke, 2005; Chesterman, 2007; Donais, 2009; Lee & Özerdem, 2015). Moreover, primarily normative theoretical perspectives rather than practitioners’ experiences frequently drive academic discourse on local ownership. Although more recent research has involved empirical case studies, these studies typically have a small-n study design and focus on highly limited forms of local peacebuilding, namely, either indigenous traditions for conflict resolution or externally led local empowerment programs. To address this gap, this chapter introduces some recent efforts made in peacebuilding programs in Southeast Asia for promoting advanced local ownership. By focusing on local peacebuilders’ strategies for strengthening their own commitment or power in developing peacebuilding programs, it aims to evaluate their significance and limitations as new models of local ownership of peacebuilding. In fact, locals in conflict-affected societies are by no means homogeneous, and researchers have identified and examined various locals who have different interests, needs, and perspectives, ranging from community residents to political leaders at national level (Lee & Özerdem, 2015). The term “local” in this chapter particularly denotes field practitioners or religious/traditional leaders who conduct various peacebuilding programs in local communities. Specifically, this chapter proposes four distinct patterns of ownership development: external aiders’ voluntary ownership transfer, reduction of financial dependence, pragmatic collaboration with external aiders, and religious/traditional forms of peacebuilding. The following sections are divided based on these patterns. They will describe how each type has been promoted and will focus specifically on the strategies local actors utilize to develop their unique models of peacebuilding, the distinguishing features of each of these, and their limitations as models of authentically local peacebuilding. Two indicators of the development of local peacebuilders’ 120

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ownership are changes in the composition of leadership and financial independence. Leadership change is a particularly important issue for many non-governmental organizations (NGOs) that were established and operated as a branch of global organizations (e.g., Oxfam International). On the other hand, for local organizations or civil associations that were formed by local actors, external donors’ two most important sources of leverage have been financial aid and skills/knowledge relevant to their projects. To demonstrate up-to-date information, the empirical examples and detailed case description relevant to these discussions are derived from the author’s most recent field visits to Cambodia conducted in 2014 and 2016. As a caveat, it should be noted that the patterns introduced in this chapter do not represent all peacebuilding sectors of post-war reconstructions in the country. Instead, the author selected a number of local peacebuilding agencies whose operations have longer than average histories (approximately 20 years on average) and have demonstrated more interesting dynamics in developing their own operational models. In selecting peace activities, this chapter adopts Barash and Webel’s definition (2009, p. 7) of positive peace: “a social condition in which exploitation is minimized or eliminated and in which there is neither overt violence nor the more subtle phenomenon of underlying structural violence.” The term peacebuilding in this chapter denotes a wide range of institutionalised programs or less formal activities that aim to promote such positive peace in a society. Peacebuilding involves a lot more than official project-based activities; in this regard, this chapter excludes a wide range of less formal actors (e.g., informal associations, traditional community associations, village or kin groups, and individuals). It is a deliberate decision to limit the scope of discussion to the more institutionalized and/or visible forms of peacebuilding, which emerge through the interaction between (external) donor agencies and local peacebuilding actors.

Local ownership in international peacebuilding In the early 1990s, the role of external agents became dominant in contemporary peacebuilding processes. Peace agreements were mediated and directed by third parties, and political and security reconstruction in the aftermath of conflict was supported by international organizations (especially, UN agencies). Social peacebuilding was developed and managed by numerous NGOs dispatched from foreign countries, while economic peacebuilding also needed the strong involvement of international financial organizations and foreign investment. Although the actors in the conflict-affected countries were involved in these processes, fundamental agendas tended to be set by external actors. Some people termed such post-war societies as “UN’s Kingdom” (Chopra, 2000, p. 1) or the “global powers’ hegemonic project” (Pugh, 2011, cited in Paris, 2010, p. 344). Efforts promoting stronger roles for local actors have been made since the early 2000s. On the assumption that peacebuilding will be more legitimate and sustainable when local people control and/or influence the design and implementation of their own programs, various ways to promote local ownership as an alternative or supplement to liberal models have been explored. In field practice, national/local ownership has been recognized as “the single most important determinant” of effective peacebuilding (UNSG, 2002, cited in Wilén, 2009, p. 343), and many peacebuilding agencies have adopted a range of strategies to enable local actors to participate in their own programs. In academic debates, an extensive discourse has developed to explore various dimensions of local ownership from conceptual, normative, and empirical perspectives (Lopes & Theisohn, 2003; Reich, 2006; Richmond, 2009a; Mac Ginty, 2008; Smillie, 2001; Donais 2014). 121

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Nevertheless, despite an increasing number of field practice projects promoting local ownership, these new approaches exhibit some critical limitations of paternalistic advocacy of ownership promotion. For instance, they tend to focus on local capacity-building programs operated by external donor agencies. Although these programs have encouraged more proactive roles for local people, they almost inevitably contain many paternalistic elements, and the real transfer of responsibilities to local structures, politicians, and stakeholders has rarely been carried out (Pietz & von Carlowitz, 2007). Instead, many previous examples confirm that promotion of local ownership seems premature for local peacebuilders in the early phases of the post-conflict reconstruction when they have to rely heavily on external aiders’ material and advisory support. Empirical research indicates that the role of local peacebuilding actors has tended to remain that of customers who can select one of the options provided by external actors or who give feedback and comments on the ongoing programs (Lee & Özerdem, 2015). More recent discourses, however, take new approaches to this question by focusing on indigenous cultural/social resources (Stobbe, 2015; Brāuchler, 2015) or local communities’ everyday (Richmond, 2009b; Mac Ginty, 2014; Berents & McEvoy-Levy, 2015). These studies highlight local societies’ inner resources that cannot be fully recognized, utilized, or developed through the analytical lens of external actors. Hence, if local actors’ modes of peacebuilding are to be fully applied and developed, the fundamental approaches to peacebuilding have to be constructed from local actors’ perspectives. These modes cover a much wider range of practices that appear in people’s everyday lives than those accepted in the institutional arenas of peacebuilding, primarily emphasized by mainstream post-war reconstruction processes. Nevertheless, these discussions have not yet proposed concrete ideas of how these everyday modes of peacebuilding can be fully integrated into mainstream post-conflict peacebuilding processes. A question that has not been empirically examined is whether it is ever possible for authentic local ownership to be developed under the strong influence and advocacy of external intervention in post-war peace processes. This chapter contributes to this ongoing academic discourse by examining the promotion of local peacebuilders’ ownership in conflict-affected regions in Southeast Asia, especially Cambodia.

External aiders’ voluntary ownership transfer External aiders’ voluntary ownership transfer is the most externally driven process for promoting local ownership, and is more relevant to the organizations that were first established by, or developed through, the strong advocacy of external donor agencies. In this process, local peacebuilders are frequently encouraged to follow the process of ownership transfer set by external actors, and have limited opportunity to influence the direction and procedures of the transfer. Indeed, the formation of the peacebuilding sector in post-war Cambodia is heavily indebted to the direct commitment of international intervention. The transfer of ownership from external donors/advocates to local staff has been a major trend in the promotion of local ownership. Such externally driven ownership transfer has become more prominent since the late 1990s, and it demonstrates wide variations. At one end of the spectrum is a gradual increase in local actors’ commitment to establishing equal partnership between external advocates and local staff as a mid-term goal. Some internationally funded organizations have set long-term plans for ownership transfer since their establishment. These organizations usually train young local staff by letting them participate in various programs and then select a few prominent individuals as potential leadership successors. After being promoted to higher positions over time, these local staff members assume key leadership roles in the organizations. 122

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In this model, gradual empowerment of local staff is highly valued. An example is Banteay Prieb, a vocational training center for Cambodians with disabilities. It was first established in 1991 as a training center primarily for disabled ex-combatants, but later expanded the target groups to anyone who faces challenges in maintaining their basic livelihood due to their physical disabilities (Lee, 2017). In transferring the key directorship, Banteay Prieb followed stepby-step procedure: filling all teaching posts with the graduates of the school in the first three to four years, appointing Cambodians as key operational leaders over the next five to six years, and subsequently replacing key decision-making posts with Cambodians. After operating for 25 years, the school is now being managed based on collaboration between Cambodian school staff and the key leaders of Jesuit Service Cambodia (the parent organization of Banteay Prieb), all of whom are foreign Jesuit priests. On the other end of the spectrum, many organizations transfer all leadership to local actors at once or with a short transitional period. In these cases, the decisions of localization tend to be made as part of the external donors’ exit strategy. Many externally financed peacebuilding programs have limited timeframes for involvement, and exit either by using a “cut-and-run” strategy, or through “phased withdrawal” after the planned period (Lee & Özerdem 2014). In Cambodia, many donor agencies decided to withdraw their commitment three to ten years after the inception of their peacebuilding programs in the interests of localization. In these cases, ownership transfer was conducted in a rather quick and radical manner. When International Cooperation Cambodia (ICC), a consortium of external development agencies and Christian mission groups, decided to localize its Food Security, Income generation, Training and Health project (FAITH), it set a three-year timeframe for transition (2003–5). During this period, ICC had completed its appointment of a Cambodian project manager, created a national management team, formed an advisory board, and developed a legally independent operational structure. Eventually, a new legal body, the Wholistic Development Organization (WDO), was established and FAITH was formally adopted under WDO’s management and most key Cambodian staff that had been involved in FAITH were absorbed by WDO. In both models, successful examples demonstrate a high level of local ownership in that local staff make most decisions while their international headquarters provide advisory services. Although a significant portion of their funding still relies on international donations, they do not necessarily feel pressure from their international advisors to follow certain directions set by external actors. Many of them have their own internal structure and procedure for gathering and incorporating the views and needs of local community residents that the organizations support (Devkota, 2013; Ryerson, 2013). In this sense, such voluntary leadership transfer can be a more advanced version of the externally led capacity building programs that have been subject to extensive empirical studies. Having said this, the local staff members involved had usually worked for their organizations for a significant amount of time when they assumed leadership roles; thus, they had learned to comprehend and internalize the working principles and underlying philosophy of their organizations. Moreover, most of these new local leaders were carefully selected by international staff/ advisers as their successors. Hence, key values of the original founders are likely to be regenerated – rather than challenged – by local peacebuilders. The local leadership’s thorough understanding of the social context is utilized to promote their organization’s liberal values in ways that local populations find easier to accept. In less successful cases, especially when ownership transfer is attempted in a rush, local peacebuilders frequently felt that they were forced to take on all responsibilities even though they were not ready to do so. A large number of programs were either closed down or significantly 123

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reduced in size while going through this process. Even in cases where they survived the structural turbulence, the new leadership was forced to maintain their programs along lines close to the donors’ ideals in order to keep attracting external funding (S. Loeurm, personal communication, 2016).

Reduction of financial dependence A contrasting approach to ownership development entails local actors’ efforts to secure financial independence from external funding bodies. This approach is becoming more popular in the new generation of peacebuilding actors in Cambodia. In the early phases of peacebuilding, local peacebuilders usually had few options but to accept external funding from international organizations or bilateral government agencies. Under conditions characterized by social instability, extremely low income levels, and economic reliance on external financial aid, local actors cannot find alternative funding sources. Nevertheless, while developing their programs, they soon become aware that many previous problems relevant to liberal peace were caused either by international organizations (e.g., UNDP and the World Bank) or by bilateral development agencies (e.g., USAID, DFID and JICA). As the representatives of their governments or home organizations, local offices rigidly apply their agency’s principles to all programs funded by them. Efforts to reduce their donor dependency may be considered in two distinct forms. First, local peacebuilders attempt to diversify the types of donors/strategic partners that they cooperate with. Moving away from traditional development agencies, the local actors seek partnership with civilian actors such as diaspora groups and religious/charity organizations in European and North American countries. In contrast to governmental agencies, these civilian partners in the global North are more concerned with building equal partnerships, accommodating local needs and contexts more effectively, and respecting local peacebuilders’ perspectives. In some cases, the external partners assume fundraising roles only and leave all operational decisions to the local actors. For example, LICADHO-CANADA, an external partner of LICADHO (a human rights organization in Cambodia), deals primarily with publicizing LICADHO’s activities externally and raising funds. Moreover, because such civil–civil networks are based on frequent human exchanges, the problem of power disparity between aider and aid recipient is less salient. Secondly and more significantly, increasing numbers of local peacebuilding agencies seek to mobilize operational funding from their own resources. Some popular types of program include community-based tourism, fair trade of local artisans’ products, micro-financing, and regular donation campaigns. In many cases, grassroots organizations grow out of one-off projects set up with external funding to provide practical benefit to community residents (e.g., an electricity supply campaign, renovation of irrigation system, organization of collective work for agriculture). Subsequently, more peace-related programs become combined with these practical projects. For example, Centre d’Etude et de Développement Agricole Cambodgien (The Cambodian Center for Study and Development in Agriculture: CEDAC) is a non-governmental organization that works primarily on developing community-based agricultural activities and participatory rural development. One of their key funding sources is the membership fees from 10,000 farmers whom CEDAC trains to cultivate organic rice and also links to customers in urban areas (mainly in Phnom Penh) and in overseas countries (mainly in the US). In numerous cases, such schemes do not mobilize enough funding to cover all operational costs of these organizations. Nevertheless, the funding enables them to develop and operate new programs that local communities consider necessary, but which do not fit external donors’ funding criteria. For instance, a village in Svay Rieng Province of Cambodia used local funding to set up electricity lines between the village and the main electricity supply route, a project that 124

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was refused funding by external donors who believed it to be a commercial project that would benefit private electricity companies. More importantly, while being able to maintain a minimum level of activities through their own funding, local organizations are able to adopt more flexible and pragmatic attitudes towards the working principles set by Western donors. For instance, although “inclusive participation” is still emphasized, they appreciate more subtle and unofficial types of participation such as informal but continuous interaction (rather than workshop-style formal meetings), and indirect participation through religious rituals. At the same time, many local agencies are more open to the utilization of people’s nationalist sentiments, and collaboration with social hierarchies and traditional authorities. In more mainstream approaches to peacebuilding, utilization of such cultural and social resources has tended to be limited as many international agencies feel such local contexts do not fit their international standards for peace or human rights. Local peacebuilders, however, argue that such marginalization of local resources has restricted the opportunities to develop such international ideals further in the local communities (S. Loeurm, personal communication, 2016). Unfortunately, the zeal to attain financial independence where social conditions are not yet ripe may encourage local peacebuilders to put means before ends, especially as most of these organizations do not have many individual members that can make substantial financial contributions, and instead, have to rely on business-like programs to gain sustainable income. In the mid-2010s, for instance, microfinancing was widely adopted by the Cambodia NGO sector as a method to support local populations who could not borrow money from mainstream finance institutes, and to generate income for local peacebuilding organizations by collecting interest from borrowers. However, as high interest rates on microfinance loans – usually exceeding 15 percent per annum – have become an important source of funding, many NGOs have carried out campaigns encouraging local farmers to borrow money, creating new debt issues in alreadyimpoverished rural Cambodia.

Incorporating local perspectives/needs within conventional collaborative models Another widespread strategy for enhancing local ownership is to build more pragmatic forms of collaboration with international donors. In such cases, local peacebuilding agents do not explicitly attempt to resist the dominance of external intervention. Instead, using Philipsen’s term (2016, p. 64), they develop a non-frictional space for mitigating the “cross-pressure between local and international.” In this model, local peacebuilders seek opportunities to do what they consider most useful within the same overarching structure of collaboration. Having spent a significant amount of time dealing with external donors, since 1991, Cambodian local peacebuilders have a good understanding of which themes, operational principles, and outcomes donors like to see. Hence, when initiating new programs, they attempt to justify them by “branding” them with a liberal theme. Moreover, as international donors have become more interested in themes like cultural diversity and the complex nature of human rights advocacy, the interview subjects in my field research confirmed that gaining acceptance of their programs has become easier. More donor agencies have become active in appreciating and advocating local actors’ ownership since “local ownership” and “equal partnership” started being emphasized by many international organizations in the late 1990s. Thus, a significant number of interviewees who work for relatively big NGOs admitted that they have frequent opportunities to incorporate their communities’ needs into peacebuilding projects while still meeting international donors’ objectives. Such opportunities are particularly widespread in their collaborations with some bilateral aid agencies that lack rigorous and regular 125

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systems for implementation monitoring. As the selection of programs that these agencies fund is made entirely based on paper applications (and the mid-term reviews will mostly rely on brief paper reports), local peacebuilding actors that have relatively lengthy experience with such paperwork are in a strong position to determine where and how to use the funding they are granted, occasionally using the strategy of “smoke and mirrors.” When these strategies are utilized positively, many grassroots organizations can create more opportunities to reflect local communities’ interests and perspectives as well as the requirements of external interveners. For instance, in 2015, when a rural NGO wanted to support local village leaders in providing various social services, ranging from hosting Buddhist rituals to attending government-facilitated meetings, it applied for funding by highlighting and conceptualizing their roles as indigenous conflict resolution schemes (personal communication with a Cambodian NGO practitioner who requested anonymity, 2016). Another example is a Phnom Penh-based NGO that received donations funders intended to benefit particular recipients (three youths who played the roles of family heads). The organization renegotiated with its donor to share the funds with all of the children in the school that the youths attended, as they thought that targeted support to selected youths might create serious tensions between them and other pupils who were struggling with very similar life challenges. In the renegotiation process, the organization used the concept of “sustainable social transformation” to convince its counterpart of the validity of this (personal communication with a Cambodian NGO practitioner who requested anonymity 2016). From a theoretical perspective, these pragmatic approaches of local peacebuilders may not look significant, as no overt power transfer seems to have been made. Nevertheless, such pragmatic approaches to collaboration by local peacebuilders demonstrates a dual structure of power in local peacebuilding programs: while international aiders control the official processes for promoting development, aid recipients dominate the unofficial mechanisms through which peacebuilding is undertaken. It also illustrates how local practitioners seek non-frictional forms of conflict mitigation. When noticing discrepancies between their own needs and what their counterparts expect, local peacebuilders frequently attempt to create depoliticized spaces in which these discrepancies can be addressed “quietly.” In these cases, although international interveners wield stronger power during the institution-building process in the aftermath of armed conflicts, the success of long-term peace consolidation in people’s day-to-day lives is entirely dependent on local peacebuilders’ will and capacity. On the flip side, it should be noted that such strategies could also be adopted unscrupulously, with local agencies occasionally making vague and unrealistic promises in order to secure more funding. In these cases, local peacebuilders eventually create their own barriers and cause them to lose credibility with external funders. In Cambodia, a significant number of these organizations that had manipulated programs to look very innovative on paper while having little significance in practice affected the overall reputation of the peacebuilding sector in local areas.

Religious/traditional forms of peacebuilding Finally, there are peacebuilding programs that were developed from the outset by local religious figures or traditional leaders, and which have not relied significantly on material or advisory support from external donor communities. Compared to other models of ownership development, such traditional/religious forms of peacebuilding are fewer in number and less institutionalized. Nevertheless, these programs represent one particular type of locally owned peacebuilding, demonstrating distinct features in their process of development, structures of organization, and operational features. 126

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Religious or traditional leaders who enjoy a relatively strong personal or public reputation within their local communities frequently promote this type of collaboration. Moreover, these leaders tend to be in a stronger position to deal with the challenges posed by political authorities, or economic constraints, since they generally maintain collaborative relationships with key stakeholders. Although the detailed formats of their programs vary, they tend to be in forms needing less formal structure, or physical offices, allowing them to operate programs with small management budgets. Accordingly, these religious or local leaders have less need to collaborate with international donors and so maintain relatively strong independence from external pressure. In Cambodia, an increasing number of peace-supporting activities are being organized and led by Buddhist monks in the form of social campaigns such as peace marches, human rights advocacy activities, environment protection campaigns, and civil protests (Soeung & Lee, 2017). Compared to secular organizers, monks are in a better position to mobilize such movements due to their religious authority, extensive local knowledge, and close ties with lay followers. For example, Maha Ghosananda, who developed a successful annual peace march called dhammayietra, was (despite his continued denials) considered to be the “holy man from the west” prophesied in Cambodian myths to appear after the brutal reign of the infidels. His personal reputation was an important factor that meant he and his followers could mobilize approximately 1,000 individuals in every march (Poethig, 2002). In terms of operational features, the values and interests of these central figures and involved patrons influence these peacebuilding programs. For instance, while many social campaigns for human rights advocacy or social justice emphasize the principle of nonviolence, Buddhist leaders – such as Ven. Loun Sovath and Ven. But Buntenh – explain the significance of nonviolence by relying on Buddhist concepts such as sachadhamma (dialogue seeking truth) and the five sila (key precepts) of Buddhist practitioners. In addition, the forest preservation campaigns organized by the Fukhavon Monk Forest Community, adopted a “tree ordination ceremony” as a key activity. By hanging Buddhist robes on trees, the Buddhist leaders symbolically ordain the trees as non-human monks and ask community residents to respect and protect the trees (Soeung & Lee, 2017). Their close ties support these traditional/religious actors’ activities with local communities. Regarding Buddhist peacebuilding, monks have various opportunities to strengthen their networks with lay followers. For instance, Buddhist monasteries are the heart of community life through which most community-level activities are facilitated (Kent, 2003; Marston & Guthrie, 2004). Moreover, many male youths spend a period of their lives in such monasteries, either taking the opportunity to experience life as a monk or to get free accommodation during their studies (Swearer, 2010). Youths who live in monasteries with the Buddhist leaders may develop an emotional attachment to them and naturally acquire a better understanding of their peacebuilding activities by constantly interacting with the peace activists and social minorities that the monks support. In this sense, these traditional ways of peacebuilding are fully owned by local Cambodians and are managed according to local cultural/social contexts; and their reliance on external support is less significant than any other traditional forms of peacebuilding. In fact, there are a few traditional/religious leaders/institutes that receive financial support from foreign actors. Even in such cases, the support is mostly made in the form of religious alms or donations with no conditions. Hence, the donors have little influence on how the money is used. Nevertheless, it is still questionable whether the visions that these traditional or religious actors project accurately reflect the needs and perspectives of most Cambodians, especially youths. Traditional/religious leaders, who are predominantly male, are frequently opposed to 127

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significant social change, preferring to maintain traditions. For example, Buddhist peace activists frequently regenerate and strengthen Cambodia’s exclusive nationalism, especially against Vietnam. As Buddhist traditions and nationalism against regional power both have deep roots in the private and public spheres of Khmer society (Hansen, 2004), many monks naturally internalized such nationalism-related concepts while living in monasteries. Moreover, such nationalism is a useful ideological rationale with which to criticize the current Hun Sen government that has been backed up by Vietnam from the outset and to support Cambodian minority groups who live in the areas bordering Vietnam. In fact, these monks’ provocative nationalistic statements occasionally encourage Cambodian’s aggression towards the Vietnamese diaspora in Cambodia.

Conclusion Using case studies conducted in Cambodia, this chapter discussed empirical evidence concerning whether advanced and authentic local ownership can be promoted in post-war peacebuilding. Specifically, it examined how local peacebuilders in Cambodia have developed their own models of peacebuilding, according to the following four patterns of ownership development. First, ownership transfer to local peacebuilders has been promoted by external donor agencies that established and developed the peacebuilding programs. Although many of these organizations demonstrate high levels of local autonomy in decision-making, their work principles and operational features tend to replicate those of their donors. Second, some local organizations have recently been attempting to get more financial independence from traditional aiders either by setting up partnerships with civilian actors in the global North or by developing their own income sources. Many of these organizations enjoy more opportunities to reflect their perspectives and needs in their programs; however, the aim of generating income is occasionally prioritized over their fundamental objectives for supporting peace in their local communities. A wide range of local Cambodian peacebuilders who choose to undertake pragmatic forms of collaboration with external donors, rather than overtly resisting donors’ demands, represents the third form. Although these local agencies skillfully deal with external donors so they can incorporate their agenda into the programs directed by their counterparts, the success of these peacebuilding programs was largely determined by the will and capacity of local actors. Finally, the chapter introduced the peacebuilding programs led by traditional/religions leaders. This type of peacebuilding presents a most ideal type of local ownership in that they are predominantly under the control of local actors. Nevertheless, the traditional/religious leaders’ perspectives often fail to reflect the ideas and needs of the majority in the society. In short, efforts to incorporate local voice in peacebuilding programs are being developed in various directions under constant power asymmetries between local and international groups. The above four models are theoretically significant in that they exhibit more advanced levels of ownership than conventional paternalistic models demonstrated through the externally-led capacity building of NGO staff or community leaders. Nevertheless, the above findings also highlight a range of perceptual or practical limitations in developing and operating programs that reflect local communities’ needs and perspectives, confirming that local cultures do not necessarily provide good foundations for stable peace and sustainable development. Another contribution of the above case studies is to ongoing academic debates on hybrid peace that incorporate international standards as well as local needs and perspectives (Millar, 2014; Richmond, 2015; Björkdahl & Höglund, 2013; Mac Ginty, 2011; Richmond & Mitchell, 2012). The findings make clear that the binary conceptualization of “local versus international” is becoming less relevant in examining post-war peacebuilding from a 128

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long-term perspective. The operational features of these peacebuilding programs demonstrate varying mixtures of roughly three types of behavioral patterns regarding external norms or values: norm-diffusion, modification, and resistance. Specifically, the above findings add to existing literature by demonstrating some specific ways that local peacebuilders try to form “hybrid” peacebuilding models while the power disparity between local and international actors is still clear in the institutional peacebuilding sector. For instance, many organizations that undergo voluntary ownership transfer or pragmatic use of conventional collaborative models frequently demonstrate norm-diffusion and modification of external values. In contrast, peacebuilders that deliberately reduce their external dependency and religious/traditional peacebuilders frequently attempt to selectively apply international norms or intermix them with local ideas. Finally, while recent peacebuilding programs in Southeast Asia present local peacebuilders’ strong potential to promote advanced ownership of their programmes, they also confirm that local peacebuilders sometimes fail to accurately represent the needs and perspectives of the communities that they aim to support. In the case studies discussed above, they play the roles as “local connectors” who attempt to represent the needs of “community residents” to external interveners and apply the externals’ agenda to their peacebuilding programs, and as “assessors” who selectively determine which local perspectives, needs, or traditions should be valued and prioritised in the local peacebuilding. Hence, an area of further research regarding the promotion of local ownership is how to make sure local peacebuilding operators can be more accountable to the people they aim to support.

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SungYong Lee Lopes, C., & Theisohn, T. (2003). Ownership, Leadership and Transformation: Can We Do Better for Capacity Building? London: Earthscan. Mac Ginty, R. (2008). Indigenous peace-making versus the liberal peace. Cooperation and Conflict, 43(3), 139–63. Mac Ginty, R. (2011). International Peacebuilding and Local Resistance: Hybrid Forms of Peace. Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan. Mac Ginty, R. (2014). Everyday peace: Bottom-up and local agency in conflict-affected societies. Security Dialogue, 45(6), 548–64. Marston, J., & Guthrie, E. (Eds.) (2004). History, Buddhism, and New Religious Movements in Cambodia. Honolulu, HI: University of Hawai’i Press. Millar, G. (2014). Disaggregating hybridity: Why hybrid institutions do not produce predictable experiences of peace. Journal of Peace Research 51(4), 501–14. Paris, R. (2010). Saving liberal peacebuilding. Review of International Studies, 36(2), 337–65. Philipsen, L. (2016). Escaping friction: Practices of creating non-frictional space in Sierra Leone. In A. Björkdahl, K. Höglund, G. Millar, J. van der Lijn, & W. Verkoren (Eds.), Peacebuilding and Friction: Global and Local Encounters in Post Conflict-Societies (pp. 64–83). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Pietz, T., & von Carlowitz, L. (2007). Local Ownership in Peacebuilding Processes in Failed States. Berlin: Centre for International Peace Operations, Berlin. Poethig, K. (2002). Movable peace: Engagiong the transnational in Cambodia’s Dhammayietra. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 41(1), 19–28. Pugh, M. (2011). Local agency and political economies of peacebuilding. Studies in Ethnicity and Nationalism 11, 308–20. Reich, H. (2006). Local Ownership in Conflict Transformation Projects: Partnership, Participation or Patronage? Berghof Occasional Paper No. 27. Berlin, DE: Berghof Research Center for Constructive Conflict Management. Richmond, O. P. (2009a). A post-liberal peace: Eirenism and the everyday. Review of International Studies, 35(3), 557–80. Richmond, O. P. (2009b). The romanticisation of the local: Welfare, culture, and peacebuilding. The International Spectator, 44(1), 149–69. Richmond, O. P. (2015). The dilemmas of a hybrid peace: Negative or positive? Cooperation and Conflict, 50(1), 50–68. Richmond, O. P., & Mitchell, A. (Eds.) (2012). Hybrid Forms of Peace: From Everyday Agency to PostLiberalism. Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan. Ryerson, C. (2013). Peacebuilding and NGOs: State–Civil Society Interactions. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Sending, O. J. (2010). Learning to Build a Sustainable Peace: Ownership and everyday peacebuilding. CMI Report 2010-4. Bergen, NO: Chr. Michelson Institute Smillie, I. (Ed.) (2001). Patronage or Partnership: Local Capacity Building in Humanitarian Crises. Bloomfield, CT: Kumarian Press. Soeung, B., & Lee, S. Y. (2017). Revitalisation of Buddhist peace activism in post-war Cambodia. Conflict, Security and Development 17(2), 141–61. Stobbe, S. P. (2015). Conflict Resolution and Peacebuilding in Laos. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Swearer, D. (2010). The Buddhist World of Southeast Asia. Albany, NY: SUNY Press. Wilén, N. (2009). Capacity-building or capacity-taking? Legitimizing concepts in peace and development operations. International Peacekeeping 16(3), 337–51.

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10 FOREIGN PEACEBUILDING INTERVENTION AND EMANCIPATORY LOCAL AGENCY FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE Sean Byrne and Chuck Thiessen This chapter critiques the manner in which post-war liberal peacebuilding intervention methodologies are struggling to engage with asymmetric power relationships between interveners and domestic counterparts and are serving the maintenance of injustice inside the global status quo of power, control, and wealth. Of particular interest in the discussion that follows is the propensity of liberal intervention practices towards technocratic problemsolving responses that circumvent locally prioritized and designed responses to injustice (Mac Ginty, 2008; Richmond, 2010b). For example, while heavy-handed interventions which prioritize foreign ownership of peacebuilding processes and structures are often viewed as essential to short-term stabilization and saving lives, the peacebuilding ventures that follow can struggle to realize sustainable peace since justice is neglected (Pugh, 2000; Richmond & Pogodda, 2016). To help clarify what we are meaning with “justice” in this chapter, we refer to Johan Galtung (1996), who made the analytical distinction between “negative peace”, or the absence of war and direct violence, and “positive peace” which pushes for deep social justice across all segments of society. Central to aligning with Galtung’s conceptions of deep and inclusive justice in post-war contexts is addressing, head-on, an intricate web of violence including direct, cultural, and structural forms. In response, this chapter surveys the liberal peacebuilding problematic with a special focus on the assurance of justice for vulnerable populations in conflict zones. It then critically analyzes alternative emancipatory peacebuilding paradigms and their philosophical underpinnings that headline the formation of locally meaningful peace.

The calibration of the global status quo of injustice and violence International peacebuilding ventures in contexts of violent conflict and war are occurring in an interconnected global community, where societal and human economic activities are increasingly impacted by technological and mutual interdependence as the global capitalist structure constrains the behavior of states (Byrne & Senehi, 2012). Yet global inequities and pillage as well as human de-development continue as the chasm between the North and the South remains wide, and the degradation of the environment continues unabated with climate change, ecological destruction, and ozone depletion, with food, water, and energy shortages threatening humanity. 131

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This lingering North–South divide was ushered in with the 1648 Treaty of Westphalia that cemented the territorial inviolability of the state system in Europe as emerging powers’ mercantilism necessitated an imperialist strategy in their drive for cheap labor, new markets, and resources in the periphery (Knox et al., 2014). Conquered and colonized nations had little say in the matter as mercantilist policies evolved into a laissez-faire global capitalist structure with the economic profit of the core eventually secured by global institutions like the World Bank and International Monetary Fund (IMF) which, arguably, promote an unjust legal, economic, and political structure in the periphery and semi-periphery that has created economic and technological dependency on the North while sidelining Indigenous cultures and their political and economic systems (Knox et al., 2014; Wilson, 2014). Consequently, many critical scholars associate processes of globalization with economic domination, exploitation, and the maintenance of global inequality and extreme poverty (Kiely, 2007; Korzeniewicz & Moran, 2007). Many of these scholars insist that Southern populations continue to be marginalized and excluded from most economic benefits enjoyed by Northern nations. The maintenance of global inequality and poverty sparks conflict and violence. While hotly debated, a significant group of scholars and commentators propose that economic liberalization and asymmetrical trading relationships result in dominance, dependence, and destabilization in Southern contexts (Barbieri & Schneider, 1999; Paris, 2004). This dominance, together with asymmetrical and inequitable relationships, inspires blowback, and triggers political turbulence and asymmetric warfare by mobile ethnic minority groups. In short, economic, political, and social injustices remain prominent features within our current global milieu, with large swaths of the global population perceiving that, while being sold an economic system that purports equality for all, “some [populations] are more equal than others,” to us George Orwell’s (1945/1996) phrase.

Liberal peacebuilding architecture and ensuring justice inside the global system Inequality-inspired violence and war across the globe has forced a response from the North, which has been realized through liberal peacebuilding interventions in the post-Cold War period – often in conjunction with traditional military and/or peacekeeping coercion. Guided by former UN Secretary-General Boutros Boutros Ghali’s 1992 Agenda for Peace, peacebuilding interventions in locations such as Afghanistan, Iraq, and Libya typically utilize a liberal peacebuilding model that promotes a Western conceptualization of democracy through elections, political parties, a capitalist market-based economy tied into the global neo-capitalist system, human rights that protect the sovereignty and rights of the individual, a revitalized legal system that promotes the rule of law, the encouragement of good stable government, and reform of the security sector that includes the creation of a modern army and police force as well as the demobilization of combatants (Özerdem & Lee, 2016). These Western liberal conceptualizations are rooted in the democratic peace theory that supposes that, in an interdependent global capitalist milieu, democracies which are managed by global institutions and international law rarely go to war with each other (Paris, 2004). The components of this dominant peacebuilding architecture are underpinned by international donors and foundations, which enact global policy and the interests of wealthy nations through networks of implementing UN agencies, IGOs, militaries, NGOs, and other civil society organizations (Byrne, 2014). International donors connect the interests of governmental stakeholders (predominantly Western but with growing influence by nations such as China, Turkey, and several Middle Eastern states) with local peacebuilding requirements by providing peacebuilding and development aid to build the peace dividend in societies emerging from violence (Wilson, 2014). Most aid programs are inspired by the Marshall Plan that rebuilt the 132

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economies of Western Europe after World War II, which was designed to absorb US surplus goods and prevent the encroachment of the Soviet Union into Europe. Similarly, US aid to both Afghanistan and Iraq, and EU aid to Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Northern Ireland, were part of the statebuilding process guided by the liberal peace to shore up support for new governments, to curb the political violence of insurgents, and prevent future violent conflict (Pugh, 2011). International aid regimes are typically managed by technocratic and bureaucratic external and internal elites who cooperate with each other in a process whereby highly paid consultants advise local communities about how they can go about accessing aid (Creary & Byrne, 2014). The external aid application, monitoring, and reporting processes are highly bureaucratized as local NGOs try to navigate through the red tape to access funds (Byrne, 2011; Byrne et al., 2007). Thus, local ownership is difficult to adjudicate as donor-driven strategies focus on funding what the donors desire to support rather than what local populations prioritize as meeting their direct needs (Donais, 2011; Thiessen, 2015). A competitive grant awards process pits local NGOs against each other as the funders often tend to support less controversial projects rather than those that, while risky, may be more optimal to support local populations in terms of deep peacebuilding (Byrne, 2014). As a result, local organizations and counterparts are required to tailor their funding applications to issues favored by international donors if they hope to receive project funding. In the long term this donor regulation may dilute the actual work on the ground when the funding streams are terminated since project sustainability is intimately tied to project applicability to real needs in local communities (Skarlato et al., 2013). Donor directives can also create a dependency between local community-based NGOs and the external funders that begs the question of what kind of peace is being built for local populations (Mac Ginty, 2008)?

The critique of peacebuilding intervention and justice-oriented alternatives As alluded to above, liberal international peacebuilding methodologies are being increasingly critiqued (see Chandler, 2017). Roland Paris was one of the first scholars to build a systematic critique of processes of liberalization in post-war contexts in At War’s End (2004). His comparative analysis of 14 cases of international intervention in post-war contexts led him to conclude: The case studies do suggest that the liberalization process either contributed to a rekindling of violence or helped to recreate the historic sources of violence in many of the countries that have hosted these missions – a conclusion that casts doubt on the reliability of the peace-through-liberalization strategy as it has been practiced to date. (Paris, 2004, p. 155) Other peacebuilding scholars have built upon Paris’ critique and noted that peacebuilding intervention conducted under the guise of the “war on terror” have convinced local populations in conflict-affected nations that Western peacebuilding is nothing more than neo-colonialism or liberal imperialism (Thiessen, 2011; Thiessen & Byrne, 2017), whereby peacebuilding intervention is primarily framed as a “rescue” mission to rapidly and forcefully replace indigenous forms of social and political organization with Western versions in order to, indirectly, ensure the security of the West (Jabri, 2010; Williams, 2010). Other authors view international peacebuilding as a fundamental activity extending Western hegemony and deepening Western control over natural resources (Jacoby, 2007). As an example, liberal peacebuilding missions have been criticized for imposing neo-colonial Western economic and political interests in Afghanistan, 133

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East Timor, and Iraq, whose political culture and complex conflict dynamics may not merit liberal peacebuilding interventions that attempt to build new institutions, norms, and values, and states that end up institutionalizing sectarian and ethnocentric conflict so that at the local level reconciliation and deep peace fail to take hold in the long term (Özerdem & Lee, 2016). Other critiques of liberal peacebuilding methodologies center on their cultural or social “fit” in local contexts (Lee, 2015; Tadjbakhsh, 2009; Thiessen, 2011). Two primary goals of liberal peacebuilding, ensuring democratic governance and undertaking neo-liberal economic reforms may circumvent necessary intervention schemes that would address the immediate peace and justice needs of populations struggling to recover after war. Richmond and Franks (2007) label this the promotion of a “virtual peace” – a peace recognizable only to the international interveners and not to local populations. At the heart of this critique are problematic conceptions of security promotion directed by traditional state structures and processes, as played out inside liberal peacebuilding interventions. Traditional models of state behavior impact our conceptualization of the institutions and policies that can contribute to a just world peace (Richmond, 2014b). This necessitates reforming peacebuilding instruments of negative peace – namely international human rights, international institutions, regional organizations, and international law so that they provide the basis for a framework to build a just and peaceful context in post-war countries, and provide meaningful justice and security for all (Richmond, 2014a). Yet war and the genderization of security rather than war abolition remain the predominant international peacebuilding mechanisms for the extension and protection of state power and control of territory. Underneath these critiques lies a fundamental concern for populations at the local level and their pursuit of “everyday” justice and peace. The pursuit of “everyday” justice needs to be meaningfully experienced by vulnerable groups, and by state and non-state actors alike. The provision of peace and justice cannot be “far more coherent from the outside than from the inside” (Richmond, 2010a), and should be deeply interested in the relationship of the state to its constituents, as opposed to primary attention to the state–international community relationship. Thus, peacebuilding intervention methodologies may need to be revised to better ensure emancipatory processes and structures are supported in a locally meaningful manner. It is to this revision that we now turn, with a brief survey of some emerging ideas of what international peacebuilding might become.

Reformation of liberal peacebuilding Few scholars have taken the leap and called for abandoning the liberal peacebuilding project, but have rather explored potential reforms to peacebuiding methodology. Paris (2010) insists that “no realistic alternative to some form of liberal peacebuilding strategy” (p. 340) has been found, and that we must be wary of excessive “distrust, pessimism and even cynicism about liberal peacebuilding” (p. 346). Paris (2010) asserts that we must differentiate between peacebuilding that follows a war of conquest (e.g., Afghanistan, Iraq) and post-peace settlement peacebuilding. He also warns against equating peacebuilding with colonialism and imperialism, and argues that peacebuilding programs are not primarily interested in extracting material resource benefits from local contexts. Thus, he concludes that the “idea” of liberal peacebuilding remains legitimate, while the “mode” of liberal peacebuilding may need some careful attention. Other scholars disagree and push further. Deep revisions to the mode of peacebuilding have been explored by numerous scholars, who consider the possiblity of moving beyond simply local buy-in of external peacebuilding plans towards deeper local ownership of both the prioritization of peacebuilding needs and the implementation of peacebuilding project activities 134

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(Donais, 2011; Thiessen, 2014). Further, Tadjbakhsh (2010) proposes that revisions to peacebuilding practice should ensure that predominant conceptions of human security are purified to pressure the status quo of global inequality and injustice. The original purpose of introducing the human security paradigm was to move towards ensuring the provision of justice and peace for larger groups of people – especially in developing and conflict-affected zones. However, other scholars remain skeptical. Roger Mac Ginty (2008) asks “who really owns the peace?” Is it external donors or interested powerful third parties such as the US, China, the EU, or the corporate world? Or are externally directed interventions actually inflaming conflicts in some cases? The restructuring of unjust local economic, social, and political processes may escalate competition among rival ethnic groups who perceive that the other ethnic group is benefitting from the external assistance. Rising expectations may not be met swiftly enough by social, economic, and political changes as ethnic leaders mobilize their followers in reaction to the gulf (Richmond, 2011). Is the liberal peace promulgating the hegemonic interests of outside actors?

Indigenous and hybrid peacebuilding paradigms Other scholars insist that even revised modes and methods in liberal peacebuidling may simply serve the interests of the international interveners themselves and their elite counterparts, failing to ensure access to justice for significant segments of local populations. Instead, there is a growing realization that indigenous peacebuilding paradigms must begin to play a central role in the assurance of justice and peace. Mac Ginty (2008) has described indigenous peacebuilding systems that rely on traditional peacemaking processes, consensus decisionmaking, and the restoration of the human–environmental balance. Roles for internationals are minimized and thoughtfully moderated to avoid the imposition of foreign culture on local processes. This paradigm recognizes that local culture encodes specific norms that shape and are shaped by different socialization agents in their cultural milieus, including information about conflict and peacebuilding that have implications for research, and for practice (Adebayo et al., 2014; Byrne & Senehi, 2012). However, indigenous paradigms are not without problems in terms of ensuring justice for vulnerable populations, and have come under significant critique from both local populations and liberal system-inspired human rights organizations. External actors must not glamorize local conflict resolution or peacebuilding practices that may indeed reinforce the hierarchy of patriarchal structures and solidify the power of older local men (Merry, 2009). Indigenous methods have shown themselves wanting in regard to ensuring justice for the very poor, ethnic minorities, women, youth, and other disadvantaged or underrepresented demographic segments. Further, indigenous authorities have evidenced their inability to handle local vacuums in power, resist the growing radicalization of society, religion, and politics, suppress the influence of local spoilers, and engage with segments of the population who wish to “modernize” and adopt “Western” manners and values (e.g., urban young people) (Lidèn, 2009; Mac Ginty, 2008). Thus, peacebuilding commentators have noted a growing realization that a dominant focus on either external peacebuidling forces or local indigenous forces may lead to peacebuilding failure – which points peacebuilding systems in conflict zones towards considering the possibility of “negotiated hybridity” (Donais, 2009). This negotiated hybritity is certainly complex. Numerous external intervention actors who may be at odds with each other enter a daunting milieu where the diversity of people and peacebuilding approaches demand a coming together, and a coordination of the best outside and inside practices in a hybrid type of peacebuilding 135

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system (Lee, 2015; Mac Ginty, 2011). Hybridity can better allow for deeper forms of local ownership to ensure that the goals of peace and “varied forms and standards of peace may coexist within a peacebuilding program”, integrating deep conflict analysis and resolution into long-term approaches that truly empower local peacebuilding (Özerdem & Lee, 2016, p. 47).

The underlying features of justice-oriented intervention paradigms While decidedly undefined at this stage, the outlines of alternative peacebuilding paradigms are beginning to come into focus – and the potential of indigenous and hybrid peacebuilding methodologies to ensure local-level justice are becoming clearer. The features of alternative paradigms that are sensitized to local injustice for vulnerable populations will have noticeable impact on vulnerable segments of local populations who are typically forced to the margins in post-war peacebuilding processes – girls and women, youth, the very poor, the physically and mentally disabled, LGBTQTT populations, and migrants and refugees. A series of emerging features are outlined here.

Nonviolent agency External and internal peacebuilders must take into consideration, when devising an appropriate peacebuilding intervention strategy, the impact of power dynamics as well as structural factors such as unjust economic systems that promote inequality and poverty, exclusionary political systems, ethnocentric and sectarian cultural and religious systems, and changing demographic geographical boundaries (Byrne & Senehi, 2012; Matyók et al., 2011). In response, peacebuilders are (arguably) increasingly revising their strategic paradigms to incorporate nonviolent action and influence upon justice provision in post-war contexts. Structural inequalities and injustices need to be challenged by local-level populations to force governments to transform unjust structures and systems. Unjust and oppressive governments can be influenced by the activity and agency of the people who organize themselves to protest for social justice (Fry, 2007; Özerdem et al., 2017). This coercion can be effectively instituted by nonviolent social movements that use direct nonviolent action and creative tension against state power following satyagraha (the truth) and using ahimsa (love of the other) (Atack, 2012). Social movements use pragmatic nonviolent protest such as civil disobedience, marches, boycotts, strikes, hunger strikes, and sit-ins to persuade the state to change its behavior and policies (Sharp, 2012). If the state uses violence against the peaceful protesters it demonstrates to the public the inhumanity and ruthlessness of the government, serving to draw more people to defy their authority and power and support the social nonviolent movement (Sharp, 2012).

The journey from conflict resolution to conflict transformation As international peacebuilding paradigms attempt to ensure meaningful justice and peace for local populations including the economically disadvantaged and politically repressed, their theoretical and operational frameworks will need to attune to the realities of addressing local conflict inside systems of power asymmetry (Thiessen, 2017). These frameworks need to move beyond commonly accepted aims in the field of “conflict resolution” and, in particular, the propensity towards de-escalation of conflict dynamics at all costs. Instead, a focus on conflict transformation and the embrace of the intensification of nonviolent conflict may better serve to push local conflict systems beyond temporary relief towards the deep rectification of unjust structures and processes (Thiessen, 2017). Peacebuilding intervention paradigms enacted in a “transformational” 136

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manner are wary of suppressing nonviolent conflict and expect conflict to maintain a constructive purpose in transforming relationships and structures (Lederach, 1995). A transformational approach to peacebuilding is also particularly relevant to engaging with asymmetric power relationships (Lederach, 1997). This approach recognizes that structural revisions are often a prerequisite to healing between unequal parties inside a conflict system. Most notably, Curle (1971) proposed that conflict resolution theory falls short if it does not structure in action what undermines and balances asymmetrical relationships inside a conflict.

Reliance on networked and inclusive civil society organizations Revised peacebuilding paradigms are reaffirming a commitment to local peacebuilding leadership by civil society organizations. This is justified since ethnopolitical conflicts have been created and shaped by a wide variety of factors that currently serve as lightning rods for ultranationalists, human rights activists, and interested international intermediaries protecting their national interests (Matyók et al., 2011). Ongoing ethnopolitical conflicts are waged on the frontiers of communities, groups, and nations, while the legacy of trauma and political violence, and power inequalities, also impacts the psychology of individuals in unseen ways (Byrne & Senehi, 2012). Civil society organizations seek to work to address these issues. Civil society organizations are a component of a state’s internal affairs. The sustainable pathway to peace requires meaningful inclusion from non-state civil society voluntary actors (e.g., churches, sports groups, youth groups, LGBTQTT groups, disability groups, women’s groups, Indigenous people’s groups, social justice groups, etc.) (Paffenholz, 2010). It is important to clearly conceptualize how to design holistic peace agreements so that discussions between local and external actors can determine what changes are required internally to civil society organizations to allow them to fully participate effectively in peacebuilding initiatives (Mac Ginty & Peterson, 2015). This will demand internal changes to civil society organizations as well as relational transformations with international interveners and the state and its institutions in order to empower and support voluntary civil society organizations (Paffenholz, 2010).

Revised manners of leadership This fourth feature of revised peacebuilding paradigms recognizes that the relationship between foreign peacebuilding leaders and local counterparts is difficult to free from the grasp of dependency and foreign dominance. In this messy situation, particular leadership styles are required to reflectively guide local structures and processes towards deep-rooted peace for local populations – including the most vulnerable and powerless. Intentional peace leaders empower others as they courageously choose to challenge, influence, and mobilize people to confront difficult situations as well as in constructing new positive narratives (Amaladas & Byrne, 2017). These servant leaders build peace into their very selves as they rely upon peaceful values of compassion, trust, resilience, and transparency along with strong convictions of justice for all to transform relationships, structures, and systems (Amaladas & Byrne, 2017).

Prioritizing environmental and ecological justice Indigenous populations have often suffered from colonial or imperial oppression that has featured direct and structural violence, including external domination over nature including illegal pollution of local ecosystems, destruction of natural habitats, and the unsustainable extraction of local resources (Ross, 2014). The effects of local environmental degradation contribute to a 137

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growing global crisis, where environmental threats affect the planetary system and the quality of life of the human species (Westlund, 2014). Indigenous populations may have deep insights into how local environmental needs can be met so that their ecosystem and biodiversity is managed to ensure human survival with dignity over the long term (Scott, 2014). Socioeconomic approaches to environmental protection are needed as fundamental components to post-war peacebuilding interventions in order to prevent pollution, bolster local food security as well as to provide education opportunities for children in the conflict-affected societies and to advance the position of women in local society (Homer-Dixon, 2010).

Exploring new peacebuilding programming methods There is a growing realization that vulnerable populations may be largely bypassed by traditional top-down peacebuilding interventions aimed at state building, security sector reform, economic and social development, and upper-level peace negotiations and conflict resolution. A range of understandable and meaningful peacebuilding methods at the local level are needed to balance the predominantly elite-level effects of these initiatives. One sector of peacebuilding activity that is increasingly being utilized to ensure local everyday peace and bolster local peacebuilding systems is the arts, music, theater, sports, and the humanities. These methods are used to (re) construct group ethnocultural identity to actively and nonviolently resist oppression in violent ethnic conflicts, including those opposing military juntas (Senehi, 2010). Some initiatives and groups use nature activities such as farming and working with animals to empower survivors and combat veterans to heal and recover from traumatic experiences (Westlund, 2014).

New ways of seeing: Critical emancipatory methodologies Revised peacebuilding paradigms need to be reflective and learn from their shortcomings and achievements. This requires monitoring, evaluation, and research methodologies that can observe and nuance the journey of local vulnerable populations from injustice to positive peace. Methods of observing will increasingly move beyond quantitative methods that have been shown to prop up the dominant and powerful through their inability to engage with nuanced changes in relationships and structures. This ignorance of local-level change is partly due to the insistence of quantitative methods upon noting external “actions” of social beings while avoiding the explanation of inner reasoning and the motives for external action (Palys & Atchison, 2008, p. 5). Liberal peacebuilding is hindered by blindness to local injustice, as international consultants and researchers confer primarily with the powerful in urban capitals in conflict zones, and struggle to access the voice of local rural populations, sometimes because of lingering threats of violence. Revised paradigms in international peacebuilding should be based on research learning that is sensitive to alternative visions of reality beyond the heavily fortified urban centers in conflict zones. A critical multi-qualitative research methodological approach (e.g., participatory action research, narrative methods, critical ethnography, indigenous methods, and story-based approaches) can impact the range and substance of issues identified with understanding peace research in post-war milieus (Senehi, 2015).

Conclusions This chapter has introduced some of the approaches toward international peacebuilding theory and practice and their critiques in terms of ensuring justice as constituent to supporting 138

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meaningful peace at the local level in post-war environments. In particular, this chapter has situated liberal peacebuilding within the distinctly unjust global political and economic system, and critiqued the way liberal peacebuilding tends to struggle to rectify this injustice and may even instigate violence in some cases. In response, it highlights critical and emancipatory peacebuilding paradigms that include minority and/or indigenous voices and resistance to dominant discourses and powerful actors (Byrne, 2017; Mac Ginty, 2008). This chapter then surveyed the outlines of emerging revisions to liberal peacebuilding practices used by states, international organizations, and has homed in on the local level to investigate the potential of local everyday peacemakers and conflict resolution “experts” to terminate violence and analyze, manage, and transform conflicts, and ensure justice is served for wider segments of the local population (Chrismas & Byrne, 2018). Across each of these thematic discussions has been a distinct focus on achieving positive peace – a “just peace” – as local vulnerable populations mobilize to build their resilience and rejuvenate themselves in the struggle against unjust global and local structures that oppress them (Lederach, 2010). This chapter has considered one significant barrier to the realization of justice: the liberal peace’s top-down hierarchical, and technocratic mechanisms often take the “local” out of peacebuilding, which distances the most vulnerable populations from the decisionmaking that impacts them most (Mac Ginty, 2008). In this situation, neo-colonial power dynamics may prevent the emergence of a just peace that satisfies all constituents because decisionmaking is dictated by the self-interests of powerful interveners and advantaged local elites (Jabri, 2013). However, local vulnerable populations hold significant agency inside of revised peacebuilding paradigms that facilitate the expression of nonviolent conflict and are transformational in nature. In these paradigms, unjust processes and structures that discriminate against vulnerable populations are rectified by local-level civil society movements (Thiessen, 2014). Through this, the role of the foreign “outsider” partners is not sidelined, but by means of careful consideration of stance and leadership in relation to local counterpart leaders, indigenous processes are counterbalanced and shaped to reduce the effect of destructive aspects to indigenous peacebuilding methods such as the maintenance of patriarchy and the exclusion of segments of the population such as women or the very poor (Merry, 2009). The foreign peacebuilding partner also carries important influence to engage with global economic structural reforms such as the forgiveness of international debt, targeted investments, and fair trade as required to provide a decent life for people as well as equalize power relations between the North and South (Knox et al., 2014). Difficult reforms are required since the global capitalist system has created a North–South chasm and dependency, facilitating the expansion of global capitalism and an economy controlled by the global North (Wilson, 2014). Thus, the challenge ahead for international peacebuilding leaders is to chart a sustainable global economy that lessens North–South conflict and promotes just relationships.

References Adebayo, A., Benjamin, J., & Lundy, B. (Eds.) (2014). Indigenous Conflict Management Strategies: Global Perspectives. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Amaladas, S., & Byrne, S. (Eds.) (2017). Leading for Peace: Peace Leaders Breaking the Mold. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Atack, I. (2012). Nonviolence in Political Theory. Edinburgh, UK: Edinburgh University Press. Barbieri, K., & Schneider, G. (1999). Globalization and peace: Assessing new direections in the study of trade and conflict. Journal of Peace Research, 36, 387–404. Byrne, S. (2014). Economic Assistance and Conflict Transformation: Peacebuilding in Northern Ireland. Abingdon, UK: Routledge.

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Sean Byrne and Chuck Thiessen Byrne, S. (2017). The legacy of colonialism among Indigenous peoples: Destructive outcomes, healing and reconciliatory potentials. Peace Research: Canadian Journal of Peace and Conflict Studies, 49(2), 5–13. Byrne, S., & Senehi, J. (2012). Violence: Analysis, Intervention, and Prevention. Athens, OH: Ohio University Press. Byrne, S., Thiessen, C., & Fissuh, E. (2007). Economic assistance and peacebuilding in Northern Ireland. Peace Research: The Canadian Journal of Peace and Conflict Studies, 39, 7–22. Chandler, D. (2017). Peacebuilding: The Twenty Year Crisis, 1997–2017. Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan. Chrismas, B., & Byrne, S. (2018). The evolving peace and conflict studies discipline. Journal for Peace and Justice Studies, 27(2), 98–118. Creary, P., & Byrne, S. (2014). Peace with strings attached: Exploring reflections of structure and agency in Northern Ireland peacebuilding funding. Peacebuilding, 2(1), 64–82. Curle, A. (1971). Making Peace. London: Tavistock Publications. Donais, T. (2009). Empowerment or imposition? Dilemmas of local ownership in post-conflict peacebuilding processes. Peace and Change, 34, 3–26. Donais, T. (2011). Peacebuilding and Local Ownership: Post-Conflict Consensus-Building. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Fry, D. (2007). Beyond War: The Human Potential for Peace. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Galtung, J. (1996). Peace by Peaceful Means: Peace and Conflict, Development and Civilization. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications. Homer-Dixon, T. (2010). The Upside of Down: Catastrophe, Creativity and the Renewal of Civilization. Toronto, ON: Vintage Press. Jabri, V. (2010). War, government, politics: A critical response to the hegemony of the liberal peace. In O. P. Richmond (Ed.), Palgrave Advances in Peacebuilding: Critical Developments and Approaches (pp. 41–58). New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Jabri, V. (2013). Peacebuilding, the local and the international: A colonial or a post-colonial rationality? Peacebuilding, 1(1), 3–16. Jacoby, T. (2007). Hegemony, modernisation and post-war reconstruction. Global Society: Journal of Interdisciplinary International Relations, 21, 521–37. Kiely, R. (2007). Poverty reduction through liberalisation? Neoliberalism and the myth of global convergence. Review of International Studies, 33, 415–34. Knox, P., Agnew, J., & McCarthy, L. (2014). The Geography of the World Economy. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Korzeniewicz, R. P., & Moran, T. P. (2007). World inequality in the twenty-first century: Patterns and tendencies. In G. Ritzer (Ed.), The Blackwell Companion to Globalization. (pp. 565–93). Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing. Lederach, J. P. (1995). Conflict Transformation in Protracted Internal Conflicts: The Case for a Comprehensive Framework. London: St. Martin’s Press. Lederach, J. P. (2010). The Moral Imagination: The Art and Soul of Building Peace. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Lee, S. Y. (2015). Motivations for local resistance in international peacebuilding. Third World Quarterly, 36, 1437–52. Lidèn, K. (2009). Building peace between global and local politics: The cosmopolitical ethics of liberal peacebuilding. International Peacekeeping, 16, 616–34. Mac Ginty, R. (2008). Indigenous peace-making versus the liberal peace. Cooperation and Conflict, 43, 139–63. Mac Ginty, R. (2011). International Peacebuilding and Local Resistance: Hybrid Forms of Peace. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Mac Ginty, R., & Peterson, J. (Eds.) (2015), The Routledge Companion to Humanitarian Action. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Matyók, T., Senehi, J., & Byrne, S. (Eds.) (2011). Critical Issues in Peace and Conflict Studies: Theory, Practice, and Pedagogy. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Merry, S. E. (2009). Gender Violence: A Cultural Perspective. New York: Wiley Blackwell. Orwell, G. (1996). Animal Farm. New York: Harcourt Brace. (1945). Özerdem, A., & Lee, S. Y. (2016). International Peacebuilding: An Introduction, Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Özerdem, A., Thiessen, C., & Qassoum, M. (Eds.) (2017). Conflict Transformation and the Palestinians: The Dynamics of Peace and Justice under Occupation. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Paffenholz, T. (Ed.) (2010). Civil Society and Peacebuilding: A Critical Assessment. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner.

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Foreign peacebuilding intervention Palys, T. S., & Atchison, C. (2008). Research Decisions: Quantitative and Qualitative Perspectives. Toronto, ON: Thomson Nelson. Paris, R. (2004). At War’s End: Building Peace After Civil Conflict. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Paris, R. (2010). Saving liberal peacebuilding. Review of International Studies, 36, 337–65. Pugh, M. (2011). Local agency and political economies of peacebuilding. Studies in Ethnicity and Nationalism 11, 308–20. Pugh, M. (Ed.) (2000). Regeneration of War-Torn Societies. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Richmond, O. P. (2010a). A geneology of peace and conflict theory. In O. P. Richmond (Ed.), Palgrave Advances in Peacebuilding: Critical Develoments and Approaches. (pp. 14–41) New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Richmond, O. P. (Ed.) (2010b), Palgrave Advances in Peacebuilding: Critical Developments and Approaches. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Richmond, O. P. (2011). A Post-Liberal Peace. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Richmond, O. P. (2014a). Failed Statebuilding Intervention, the State, and the Dynamics of Peace Formation. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Richmond, O. P. (2014b). Peace: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Richmond, O. P., & Franks, J. (2007). Liberal hubris? Virtual peace in Cambodia. Security Dialogue, 38, 27–48. Richmond, O. P., & Pogodda, S. (Eds.) (2016). Post-Liberal Peace Transitions: Between Peace Formation and State Formation. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Ross, R. (2014). Indigenous Healing: Exploring Traditional Paths. Toronto, ON: Penguin. Scott, J. (2014). Two Cheers for Anarchism: Six Easy Pieces on Autonomy, Dignity, and Meaningful Work and Play. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Senehi, J. (2010). Building peace: Storytelling to transform conflicts constructively. In S. Byrne, D. J. D. Sandole, I. Staroste-Sandole, & J. Senehi (Eds.), The Handbook of Conflict Analysis and Resolution. (pp. 201–23). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Senehi, J. (2015). Our tree of life in the field: Locating ourselves in the peace and conflict studies field through the tree of life experience, Peace Research: Canadian Journal of Peace and Conflict Studies, 47(1–2), 10–28. Sharp, G. (2012). From Dictatorship to Democracy: A Conceptual Framework for Liberation. Boston, MA: New Press. Skarlato, O., Byrne, S., Ahmed, K., Hyde, J. M., & Karari, P. (2013). Grassroots peacebuilding in Northern Ireland and the border counties: Elements of an effective model. Peace and Conflict Studies, 20, 4–26. Tadjbakhsh, S. (2009). Conflicted outcomes and values: (neo)liberal peace in Central Asia and Afghanistan. International Peacekeeping, 16, 635–51. Tadjbakhsh, S. (2010). Human security and the legitimisation of peacebuilding. In O. P. Richmond (Ed.), Palgrave Advances in Peacebuilding: Critical evelopments and Approaches. (pp. 116–37). New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Thiessen, C. (2011). Emancipatory peacebuilding: Critical responses to (neo)liberal trends. In T. Matyók, J. Senehi, & S. Byrne (Eds.), Critical Issues in Peace and Conflict Studies. (pp. 115–43). Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Thiessen, C. (2014). Local Ownership of Peacebuilding in Afghanistan: Shouldering Responsibility for Sustainable Peace and Development. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Thiessen, C. (2015). The dilemmas of local ownership of upper-level and grassroots peace processes in Afghanistan. In S. Lee & A. Ozerdem (Eds.), Local Ownership in International Peacebuilding: Key Theoretical and Practical Issues. (pp. 95–116). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Thiessen, C. (2017). The evolution of conflict transformation theory and practice in Israel and the occupied Palestinian territory. In A. Özerdem, C. Thiessen, & M. Qassoum (Eds.), Conflict Transformation and the Palestinians: The Dynamics of Peace and justice under Occupation. (pp. 3–20). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Thiessen, C., & Byrne, S. (2017). Proceed with caution: Research production and uptake in conflictaffected countries. Journal of Peacebuilding and Development, 13(1), 1–15. Westlund, S. (2014). Field Exercises: How Veterans are Healing Themselves through Farming and Outdoor Activities. Vancouver, BC: New Society Publishers. Williams, A. (2010). Reconstruction: The missing historical link. In O. P. Richmond (Ed.), Palgrave Advances in Peacebuilding: Critical Developments and Approaches (pp. 58–74). New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Wilson, J. (2014). Jeffrey Sachs: The Strange Case of Dr. Shock and Mr. Aid. London: Verso Books.

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PART III

Gender, masculinity, and sexuality

11 SEX TRAFFICKING AND PEACE How patriarchy normalizes direct and structural violence Franke Wilmer Why include a chapter on sex trafficking in a handbook on peace and conflict studies (PACS)? Yes, social justice is within the purview of PACS in the form of positive peace, the context for this handbook. However, the social justice element of positive peace is normally situated within the project of peacebuilding in the aftermath or transition from violent conflict. Violent conflict, in turn, is understood as armed, intergroup, and politically motivated violence. Sex trafficking is none of these. But violent conflict and sex trafficking do share some root causes and symptoms, and a peaceful world/society cannot be imagined to include the direct and structural violence that characterize the behaviors and activities linked to sex trafficking. Where there is sex trafficking, there is not peace, even in the absence of armed, intergroup, and politically motivated violence. Sex trafficking involves substantial conflict, too, not the least between the persons trafficked and their captors. In this sense, sex trafficking may be a benchmark for assessing peace as a broad-based and sustainable societal “state of well-being” where both social justice and the absence of violence are included in the definition of peace.

We need actionable explanations This chapter focuses on the causes of violence question. We need actionable explanations if we are to create sustainable positive peace and stop human wrongs by protecting human rights. If all human rights were respected, there would be direct and structural peace instead of violence. So why are human rights violated in the first place? As a field of inquiry, the subject of human rights is relatively new to the social sciences, emerging roughly in the 1960s. Most of the attention then and for the next several decades implicated governments as the primary violators, and democratization, including due process, institutional accountability, and the protection of dissent, as the antidote. Amnesty International, with its focus on political prisoners, quickly became virtually synonymous with human rights advocacy. Debates about generations of human rights, and whether it was helpful to make distinctions among social, civil, and subsistence rights, ensued. Out of these debates came two important insights, articulated by Henry Shue (1980), namely that, structural violence is just as deadly as direct violence, and structural and direct violence implicate one another. He articulated the second insight by pointing out the shortcomings 145

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and fallacies of distinguishing between positive and negative rights, the first being protection against direct violence, and the second against structural violence (Shue, 1980). Although the issue of human trafficking, including sex trafficking, has been the subject of national laws, and international treaties and agreements, the link between sex trafficking and various kinds of coerced “sex work,” including online sex cam performance, pornography, and prostitution, has received less attention as violations of human rights than those that entail direct violence at the hands of political actors. Further, these activities are often embedded within coercive practices in “the industry” so that, as one expert put it, “it is impossible to tell the difference between coerced and voluntary performance” of activities described as sex work (Peters et al., 2012, p. 193). An article and response recently published in Rolling Stone magazine reflects the current controversy about the rights of what are euphemistically called “sex workers.” One side argues that they would be better off under a legalization regime where they could be “protected” by the law and obtain benefits like access to affordable health insurance. Opponents argue that legalization further obscures the human rights abuses that trafficking, recruitment, and commercialized sex inflicts. Human trafficking is, first of all, a violation of the most basic human right to be free, but the human rights violations do not stop there. Sex trafficking also involves the most horrendous imaginable forms of physical, emotional, and mental torture including, but not limited to, brutal acts of sexual degradation, assault, and rape. Expanding human rights advocacy beyond the scope that implicates primarily political actors to include the captivity, coercion, and torture endured by victims of sex trafficking will elevate these issues both on policy agendas and in academic work aimed at shaping them by offering strategies that address causes. In looking for causes as explanation, this chapter concludes by linking the debates and human rights issues surrounding coerced sex work and sex trafficking to a theory of patriarchal ideology outlined by Gilligan and Richards (2008). They argue that patriarchy is an ideological system based on fear, domination, and control, that is fundamentally incompatible with democracy and the rule of law. Patriarchy is the ideological context in which identities and knowledge are produced and it therefore structures power relations and normalizes inequalities. From this, flows the evil of violent harm-doing. Peace cannot prevail over violence until this system is dismantled and transformed.

The scope of the problem “The trafficking of women and children from their home countries abroad for purposes of sexual exploitation and forced labor is growing at an alarming rate,” said Sally Stoecker, Project Director at the Transnational Crime and Corruption Center at American University. That was in 2000, based on UN data and the definition of trafficking codified in the UN “Protocol to Prevent, Suppress and Punish Trafficking in Persons, especially Women and Children,” a supplement to the 1999 Convention against Transnational Organized Crime (Stoecker, 2000, p. 141). Trafficking is frequently referred to as an epidemic today. As of 2016, there were an estimated 39 million trafficking victims, of which a third were children (Lehnardt, 2016). Eighty percent of all human trafficking is for sex, with women and girls being the majority of victims and men the majority of traffickers (UNODOC, 2010). Of those sold into sex slavery, 80 percent are 24 years old or younger (Lehnardt, 2016). Victims come from 127 countries and are exploited in 137 (UNODOC, 2010). Conviction rates “rarely exceed 1.5 per 100,000” cases and only occur in a small number of states (UNODOC, 2010). 146

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The increase in trafficking has both supply and demand sides. Perhaps the greatest inducement is simply low risk (lack of prosecution) and high profitability, estimated by the UN and International Labor Organization at $31.6 billion per year globally, half of it earned in industrialized democracies. As a commodity, sex slaves can be resold or exploited repeatedly, unlike drugs or arms, making this the most lucrative illicit market in the world (Lehnardt, 2016; (UNODOC, 2010). One study of trafficking in the Netherlands concluded that an average of $250,000 per year per sex slave goes to a single pimp, and that a trafficker can earn 20 times the price paid for a slave (Skinner, 2008). According to dosomething.org, the average price of a slave today on the global market is $90. Additionally, there is evidence that organ harvesting is increasingly committed in the trafficking industry (Shelley, 2010). An estimated 30,000 individuals die annually from trafficking-related causes, including abuse, disease, and torture (Lehnardt, 2016). This figure does not include the deaths of children as young as 7 purchased for $7,000–$14,000 by the Taliban to carry out suicide missions (Washington Times, 2009). On the supply side, poverty in general and the gender bias of poverty in particular may be the single most important factor, suggesting an actionable strategy for reducing and combating sex trafficking. For example, Siddarth Kara noted the following: Perhaps the most effective location for the use of deceit in recruiting slaves is in refugee camps. Across the globe, 32.9 million people are displaced due to genocide, civil war, environmental disaster, or other major crises. Approximately 9.9 million of these individuals, 72 percent of whom are women and children, reside in refugee camps. (Kara, 2009, p. 361) Kara describes camps he visited in Thailand where the persecuted indigenous Karen hill tribes have fled military oppression, rape, incarceration, and murder. The conditions in the camps were filthy, crowded, and depressing, and the refugees were not allowed to leave or seek employment in the host country. Because the refugees were trapped, slave traders who offered job opportunities met with high success rates in acquiring new slaves. (Kara, 2009, p. 365) According to the World Bank, 70 percent of those living in extreme poverty globally are women (World Bank, 2007, p. 13). Additionally, cultural factors limit the prospects for girls and women to escape poverty and forced marriage. Although dowries are outlawed in India, some 15,000 women are still murdered every year over dowry disputes (UNIFEM, 2005, p. 2). In Nepal, where education is publicly funded only at the primary level, around the age of 10, many parents remove their daughters in order to sustain their sons’ further education, contributing to the literacy rate gap between men and women of about 20 percent (Devkota & Bagale, 2017). In Thailand, the principle of bhun kun obligates the youngest daughter to support her ageing parents (Kara, 2009, pp. 516–18). The rapid expansion of internet access and resources, including social media and websites used to peddle trafficked prostitutes, is a supply-side factor that cannot be overstated. Perpetrators follow and profile potential victims through social networking, then devise schemes most likely to succeed in luring particular victims to put themselves in a vulnerable situation, where they end up in the hands of the offender unknowingly, but voluntarily (Dixon, 2013). In the US and other rich, Western democracies, trafficking victims are also often deceived or abducted outright (ABC News, 2006). The perception that all trafficked girls and teens are 147

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runaways from troubled homes no longer holds. Although some do fit this profile, recruiters are becoming increasingly sophisticated in their methods, learning to “read” the vulnerabilities of potential victims, and presenting themselves as having a normal presence within environments where children are most often found at leisure – beaches, ski slopes, malls, social media, and even after-school programs (e.g., see Lenhardt, 2016; Walker-Rodrigues & Hill, 2011; ABC News, 2006). Predators are using increasingly available date-rape drugs to kidnap some women. Following their abduction, they are “trained to become compliant” through torture and rape until they are “broken,” no longer protesting, and in many cases, appear then to be voluntarily engaged in sex work. The FBI estimated in 2011 that nearly 300,000 children under the age of 18 were at risk of commercial sexual exploitation and that in 2006 over 100,000 children and young women ranging from age 9 to 19 with an average age of 11, were trafficked in the US (ABC News, 2006; Walker-Rodriguez & Hill, 2011). A final factor contributing to the supply-side explosion of trafficking victims today is the instability and vulnerability created by globalization and the economic crises it has generated, particularly in Southeast Asia, coupled with the collapse of communist states in Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union. In Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union, as domestic markets fell, poverty levels rose along with inflation, unemployment, and organized crime. Gender bias should not be overlooked here either. Systemic discrimination against women in education and employment is as common in Eastern Europe as elsewhere. One researcher estimated that, in 1997, six years after the fall of communism, 175,000 young women were trafficked from that area to the rich democracies in Europe and the US (Granville, 2004). Today, in addition to Russia, Albania, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Bulgaria, Croatia, Kosovo, Macedonia, Moldova, Montenegro, Romania, and Serbia are all source countries for trafficked persons. On the demand side, as Kara (2009) points out, male sexual demand, above all else, sustains and fuels the market for sexual slavery (also see Sun et al., 2016). The high profits, or specifically, high profit margins (revenue after costs) work on both the supply and demand sides. With this inducement to enter the market also comes an incentive to expand that market, as providers devise ways to recruit new consumers. As indicated earlier, an estimated $32 billion a year is generated by the sex services and products linked to human trafficking. Although it is impossible to break down how much of the money spent on pornography is implicated in sex trafficking, there are several direct links. One is that during the “training” period immediately following the kidnapping of a victim, victims are raped, including gang-raped, and the perpetrators often make videos of the rapes and post them online.1 The Protocol to Prevent, Suppress and Punish Trafficking in Persons defines “trafficking in persons” this way in Article 3, paragraph (a): the recruitment . . . by means of threat or use of force or other forms of coercion . . . of fraud, of deception, of the abuse of power or of a position of vulnerability or of the giving or receiving of payments or benefits to achieve the consent of a person having control over another person, for the purpose of exploitation. Exploitation shall include, at a minimum, the exploitation of the prostitution of others or other forms of sexual exploitation, forced labour or services . . . (UN Protocol, 2000) According to the National Center on Sexual Exploitation’s project stoptraffickingdemand.com, many practices reported by performers who have left the industry could easily fit this definition, particularly the fraud and deception elements as well as the payments to achieve consent

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for the purpose of exploitation. Among these practices are the use of force and threats of force, fraudulent offers of employment and promises of money, deceitful behavior and descriptions of working conditions, and the use of alcohol and drugs to induce performers to endure pain and trauma (National Center on Sexual Exploitation, 2017). The point is that women and children are trafficked in order to provide sex services and products, and those kidnapping them want to continuously increase demand for those services and products in order to maximize revenues and profits. Fight the New Drug (FTND) CEO Clay Olsen says, “porn fuels the demand for the sex trade” in ways that cannot be discerned by viewers. “Traffickers have learned to package their product in a way that disguises the fact that the ‘performers’ are forced to participate,” he says (Olsen, 2017). FTND research also concluded that “when these customers show up, many come ready with porn images in hand to show the women they’re exploiting – many of which are human trafficking victims controlled by pimps – what they’ll be forced to do” (Olsen, 2017) The research found that, of nearly 1,000 women interviewed in nine countries, 49 percent “said that porn had been made of them while they were in prostitution, and 47 percent said they had been harmed by men who had either forced or tried to force their victims to do things the men had seen in porn” (Westen, 2015). The anti-sexual exploitation NGO, She’s Somebody’s Daughter, explains the link: • • • •

Pornography drives the demand for sex trafficking. Trafficking victims are exploited in the production of pornography. Pornography production is a form of trafficking. Pornography is used as a training tool with sex trafficked victims.

Pornography is the most important marketing tool for those in the commercial sex industry. We are no longer talking about peep shows, shops that sell sex toys and videos, and magazines trading primarily on erotic photographs. The internet has changed everything. While Kara (2009) identifies the elasticity of demand as a factor on this side, there is also an incentive to create a demand that is less elastic, and that is the demand of sexual addiction. On the inelastic demand side, Kara argues persuasively and with evidence that increased supply creates increased demand and lowers prices, which necessitates more demand in order to maintain or increase profits (Kara, 2009). There is a growing awareness of and debate among mental health professionals and neuroscientists about the addictive capacity of pornography, altering brain chemistry and leading to escalating desires for increasingly explicit and violent sexual activity. In 2007, a new pornographic video was made every 39 minutes; every second, $3,075.64 was spent on pornography (Family Safe Media, 2007). Internet porn is widely regarded as the “gateway drug,” and while not everyone who uses it becomes addicted, many scientists and therapists are recognizing its addictive potential. It interacts with the brain much as other dopamine-driven addictions do. First, it stimulates the production of dopamine, then it drives an increase in cravings for stimulation while at the same time, destroying dopamine receptors and requiring “higher doses” in order to achieve the same “high.” One study found that 93 percent of boys and 62 percent of girls were exposed to pornography as adolescents, with 11 years old being the average age of first exposure (Sabina et al., 2008). Brain damage does not occur with casual or occasional use. Rather, like other addictions, it is a consequence of repeated use over long periods of time, causing a range of phenomena known as hypofrontal syndromes and cerebral dysfunction, leading to impairment of the individual’s ability to stop the behavior causing the damage. Neuroscientists call this damage to the brain’s “braking system” (Hilton & Watts, 2011).

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Pornography and feminism In the late 1970s and early 1980s, an anti-pornography movement brought together feminists, religious conservatives, and social activists whose concerns spanned a range of issues from the perpetuation of rape culture to an increased awareness (and prevalence) of sexually addictive behavior. Religious conservatives linked their objections with other sexually conservative stands like anti-abortion and anti-gay advocacy. With Catharine MacKinnon and Andrea Dworkin elevating public debates about the harmful effects of pornography that, in their view, warranted placing restrictions on it that others, including some feminists, regard and oppose as unconstitutional limits on free speech, researchers began to examine whether there is a causal link between sexual violence and pornography (MacKinnon & Dworkin, 1988). The debate arose in the aftermath of US Supreme Court rulings in the 1960s and 1970s on the censorship of obscene materials, resulting in a dramatic liberalization of censorship laws that left discretion regarding the definition of obscenity and if, how, and when it should be restricted in the hands of states. Two Presidential commissions created to study the potential for harmful impact of pornography followed, the first, appointed by President Johnson, issued a report in 1970, and the second, appointed by President Reagan in 1984, issued its findings in 1986. The conclusions of the two commissions are in complete contradiction, with the first finding no relationship between pornography and sexual violence (rape and assault), and the second finding that "substantial exposure to sexually violent materials . . . bears a causal relationship to antisocial acts of sexual violence and, for some subgroups, possibly to unlawful acts of sexual violence” (Meese Commission, 1986, p. 326). A Canadian study issued the same year agreed with the findings of the earlier commission, finding that, “There is no systematic research evidence available which suggests a causal relationship between pornography and the morality of Canadian society . . . [and none] which suggests that increases in specific forms of deviant behavior, reflected in crime trend statistics (e.g., rape) are causally related to pornography” (McKay & Dolff, 1984 p. 93). As internet access, and with it the production and availability of internet pornography, increased, so did opposition from anti-porn organizations, as well as the incidence of social problems associated with sexual violence, mental health, and human trafficking. However, one thing that remained unacknowledged by all discussions and debates about pornography during this period, and to a large extent today, is that the pornography in question was and is overwhelmingly androcentric. This is important because the content and the consequences of the content at the center of the controversies matter when we are talking about how power is used to sustain certain inequalities of power. Whatever we think about most of the pornography under consideration, it is overwhelmingly androcentric pornography, which centers attention on male desire and fantasy, much of it misogynistic. Gynocentric, feminist, or woman-centered pornography remains the exception. At least 30 percent of internet pornography users today are women, which has fueled the rise of women pornography directors and producers who openly seek to appeal primarily to the female viewer (Barber, 2013). Documentarian Becky Goldberg examined feminist pornographers in her 2002 film, Hot and Bothered Feminist Pornography. In a 2005 interview, Goldberg defined feminist pornography as “whenever the woman is in control of the sexual situation, she is in control of what is being done to her and she enjoys it” (Goldberg, 2005). Evolutionary psychologists frequently take the view that, although women’s and men’s sexual arousal and pleasure are quite similar, and both report seeking pleasure for its own sake, women have a preference for erotica that includes or refers to relationship and connection between the lovers, not to be confused with commitment (Barber, 2013). Women are interested in the 150

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“back story” of the (female) character that is the center of attention, or characters, how they become attracted to one another, for example (Gubar & Hoff, 1989, p. 208) Other feminists disagree, arguing that social narratives positing women’s sexuality as different from men’s reinforce stereotypes about women such as “that women do not like sex generally, only enjoy sex in a relational context, or that women only enjoy vanilla sex” (Wikipedia Contributors, 2019). Without digressing into a debate about how to define violence, it is important to observe that misogynistic violence is absent in gynocentric pornography. Additionally, mainstream androcentric pornography is regarded by many as lacking diversity, disregarding both “sexual and gender minorities,” and people of color (Wikipedia Contributors, 2019). Several feminist performers and filmmakers have begun to address this deficiency, including Tristan Taormino, who is a sex educator and advocate for a “sex positive” culture (Wikipedia Contributors, 2019). In other words, the connection between pornography, sex trafficking, and coerced sex work is really between straight, androcentric pornography, sex trafficking, and coerced sex work.

The decriminalizing of prostitution controversy In August 2015 Amnesty International (AI) endorsed a “Draft Policy on Sex Work,” calling for the decriminalization of prostitution, including “buying, pimping, and brothel keeping while still allowing a state the power to regulate selling” (Post, 2015). Opposition to the policy included over 800 human rights, women’s rights, and anti-trafficking organizations, and was conveyed to the AI Board of Directors weeks in advance of the vote. In June 2016, Rolling Stone magazine published an editorial critical of Amnesty’s policy, outlining five reasons to object to or “be wary” of it (Geist, 2016). Among the reasons offered was that decriminalizing prostitution will increase sex trafficking, and it cited a number of well-regarded studies as well as evidence from decriminalization policies in Sweden and Denmark (Geist, 2016). Meanwhile, two Stanford economists published an analysis of what they called a “semicoerced” market for sex, comparing voluntary prostitutes with trafficking victims, drawing on evidence from Sweden and the Netherlands in their study (Lee & Persson, 2018). Their question was whether regulating decriminalized prostitution would lead to a decrease in trafficking. They concluded that, while decriminalization does not eliminate trafficking, neither does criminalizing the sale or purchase of sex, and in fact, criminalizing, in their analysis, increases trafficking at the expense of voluntary prostitution and therefore reduces trafficking only once all voluntary prostitution has left the market (Lee & Persson, 2018). Since no existing regulatory regime accomplishes the goal of reducing or eliminating trafficking, they recommend a hybrid of the two systems – licensed prostitution where consumers of unlicensed prostitution are prosecuted, and decriminalization of supply (prostitution) while criminalizing demand (johns) – because it resolves the “tension” between voluntary and trafficked prostitutes. The authors concede that violence and coercion may also be factors affecting voluntary prostitutes once in the profession. In other words, although not coerced initially, coercion and violence discourage exiting. Said one former prostitute, “They told me that ‘you can’t leave, you’re a whore who has herself on film. No one’s going to believe that you’re a victim here’” (Rape for Profit, 2017) In her response to the criticisms that appeared in Rolling Stone (and elsewhere), AI Executive Director Margaret Huang argued that there are many advantages for the human rights of sex workers, coerced or otherwise, and that decriminalizing prostitution would not detract from the criminalization of trafficking and its prosecution (Huang, 2016). In defense of her position, Huang cited similar policies and positions held by Human Rights Watch, the World Health 151

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Organization, LGBTQ+ rights advocates, and groups aiming to reduce and treat AIDS and HIV (Huang, 2016). The tension between feminism and pornography raises sets of issues. One is whether particular policies regarding prostitution can have a negative impact on sex trafficking, and the other is whether the civil rights and liberties of voluntary prostitutes would be impaired as a consequence. What is missing in debates about both of these issues is the question: “Is sex work an extension of sexual freedom or a consequence of structural violence?”

Patriarchy normalizes violence, structural and direct PACS activists and scholars looking for the cause of violence are like fish swimming around looking for water. Gilligan and Richards, I think, have found the water. Collaborating over seven years co-teaching a course on “Gender and Democracy” at New York University School of Law, and joined in 2005 by Professor Cantarella, an expert on Roman Law from Milan University, Gilligan and Richards (2009) published a critical book with a wide-ranging yet detailed and rich theory of patriarchy and its fundamental tension with democracy. Inspired by the closing scene in Hamlet, where Horatio answers Fortinbras’ question “Where is this sight?” by asking him "What is it you would see?" on “a stage littered with corpses,” they wanted to know what sustains the demands of war imposed by imperialism over centuries and how did these demands become normalized as “the state of things” or the “state of nature,” or “the human condition?” (Gilligan & Richards, 2009, p. 1). Their answer, in its simplest terms, is that it is the normalization of fear, domination, and control as the basis for political action; as inescapable conditions of human social life that sustain our tolerance for violence. Violence to preempt or alleviate fear. Violence as an act of domination, dictated by a belief in an evolutionary imperative – survival of the fittest, success by domination. Violence for the purpose of controlling Others. The normalization of exploitative relationships is defined by power, not empowerment, and inequalities of power are regarded as inevitable and inescapable. But how does this happen and why is it so pervasive? Gilligan and Richards’ (2009) account is concerned only with the emergence and normalization of patriarchal ideology in Western culture, but one could ask whether they have identified a means of “measuring” the degree to which patriarchal ideology shapes a particular (historical) time and (cultural) space. It is not “patriarchy, yes or no,” but “how patriarchal?” that matters. Their theory begins with the formation of our emotional lives in relation to our capacity for empathetic connection, a capacity necessary for the maintenance of pluralistic democracy insofar as democracy does not in itself provide a basis for solidarity. Empathetic connection, in turn, enables us to see ourselves as connected to Others who are “not like us,” Others who have their own agency, in contrast with narcissistic connection, or connections based on sameness of identity. In order to reproduce patriarchal ideology normalizing fear, domination, and control, our capacity for empathetic connection must be ruptured, particularly in relation to masculine identity, but both masculine and feminine identities must be structured to support, sustain, and reproduce patriarchy over time. It, therefore, relies foremost on disrupting the capacity of boys to connect and defining “normal” masculinity as detached. Femininity can do the attachment work, but it must also first and foremost accept masculinity as detachment. Women and mothers, therefore, regard males as “naturally” detached as the norm. To produce and reproduce hierarchies of inequality and to regard them as normal relies on our presumption that caring is pointless and detachment (self-centeredness and narcissism) is normal. This is “just the way things are,” gender hierarchies, racialized hierarchies, cultural 152

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hierarchies, hierarchies of privilege and deprivation. Men’s capacity for intimacy and caring must be sublimated as “non-masculine” in service to relationships based on inequalities, domination, and control. The gender scripts and power relations of androcentric pornography and prostitution, which create the demand for sex trafficking, are really exaggerations of normalized masculinity structured in service to the production and reproduction of patriarchy, as noted by Sun et al. (2016 p. 983). Pornography has become a primary source of sexual education. At the same time, mainstream commercial pornography has coalesced around a relatively homogenous script involving violence and female degradation. And consistent with Gilligan and Richards’ (2009) theory of patriarchal ideology and the necessity of defining masculinity as detached and non-intimate, “higher pornography use was negatively associated with enjoying sexually intimate behaviors with a partner” (Sun et al., 2016, p. 983). A scene in the recent film adaptation of the play Fences illustrates both how normalized patriarchal detachment is connected to masculine identity, and how feminine identity is structured as a collaborator. The central character, Troy Mason, has died and his son Cory has come home on military leave, for the funeral. But Cory refuses to actually attend the funeral, sparking a confrontation with his mother. The plot has already revealed that Troy’s dysfunctional and abusive relationship with his own son is a reproduction of Troy’s relationship with his father. Rose, Cory’s mother and Troy’s widow, lectures Cory in an elegiac scene where she essentially apologizes for and excuses Troy’s abuse by saying “We’re all doing the best we can with the skills we have.”

Patriarchy is the enemy of democracy and peace Sex trafficking is a war zone where 30,000 people a year, mostly women and girls, die because they have been trafficked for sex. Even without a link between pornography and sexual violence, the link to sex trafficking is clear. Negative peace is minimally the absence of violence, but without justice, it is unsustainable. Democracy is, among other things, a way of channeling conflict nonviolently over time, but can it do that without also addressing justice issues? Gilligan and Richards (2009) and I would say no. Democracy without justice is vulnerable to backsliding. Here it is worth quoting them at length in their conclusion. As we have found the roots of intolerance – whether racist, sexist, or homophobic – in the traumatic rupture of intimate relationships that marks the initiation into patriarchy, so the splits between mind and body, thought and emotion, self and relationships signal a dissociation that keeps us from knowing what we otherwise would know. It impedes the voice of experience, grounded in the body and in emotion and fostered by relationships that would speak to the voices of authority, thus posing a threat to democracy in much the same was that totalitarianism targets the functions of the human mind. (Gilligan & Richards, 2009, p. 266) Democracy rests on the twin pillars of peace and justice. Fear, domination, and control destroy caring, empathetic connections, and foster dispassionate psychic isolation and authoritarianism, the ultimate political expression of patriarchy. Authoritarianism and intolerance are indeed on 153

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the rise, but this can also evoke more widespread resistance in the form of a democratic alternative that demands justice, and equality of rights and protections. Communities of wellbeing, peace, and justice, in contrast, are grounded in caring connections. The challenge is to cultivate the capacity for connection and intimacy, which in turn, enable us to be empathetic and ground our relations in equality. The violence that disturbs Horatio, Gilligan, and Richards relies both on normalizing fear, domination, and control, and denying or delegitimizing the political significance of caring connections. Resist the normalization of fear, domination, and control and all of its exploitative manifestations. Resist narratives that normalize self-centeredness, emotional self-sufficiency, and exclusionary social practices. Every self is born into and dependent on a network of caring selves.

Notes 1 I learned this from an Aug. 12, 2016 interview with a survivor of sex trafficked kidnapping, who wishes to remain anonymous. The victim was kidnapped and tortured in Italy, by individuals she later identified as Albanian after hearing the Albanian language, before escaping after ten days in captivity.

References ABC News (2006). Teen girls’ stories of sex trafficking in U.S. Feb. 9. http://abcnews.go.com/Primetime/ story?id=1596778&page=1. Barber, N. (2013). Women flock to pornography: Female interest in pornography greater than evolutionary psychology expects. June 7.: www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-human-beast/201306/womenflock-pornography Devkota, S. P., & Bagale, S. (2017). Education and women in Nepal. The Rising Nepal. http://therisingnepal. org.np/news/2234. Dixon, H. B., Jr. (2013). Human trafficking and the internet and other technologies, too. The Judges Journal, 52(1). American Bar Association. www.americanbar.org/publications/judges_journal/2013/ winter/human_trafficking_and_internet_and_other_technologies_too.html. Dosomething.org (2017). 11 facts about human trafficking. www.dosomething.org/us/facts/11-factsabout-human-trafficking. Family Safe Media (2007). Pornography statistics. www.familysafemedia.com/pornography-statistics/. Geist, D. (2016). 5 reasons to be wary of Amnesty’s prostitution policy. Rolling Stone, June 1.www.rollingstone. com/politics/news/6-reasons-to-be-wary-of-amnestys-prostitution-policy-20160601. Gilligan, C., & Richards, D. A. J. (2009). The Deepening Darkness: Patriarchy, Resistance, and Democracy’s Future. Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press. Goldberg, B. (2005). Girls, girls, girls: Interview with Becky Goldberg. Contemporary Women’s Issues Journal, 1(4), 1–4. Granville, J. (2004). From Russia without love: The “fourth wave” of global human trafficking. Demokratizatsiya, 12(1), 147–55. Gubar, S., & Hoff, J. (1989). For Adult Users Only: The Dilemma of Violent Pornography. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. H.E.A.T. (2017). Reasons for the growing epidemic. Watch, human exploitation and trafficking. www.heatwatch.org/human_trafficking/reasons_for_the_growing_epidemic. Hilton, D. L., Jr., & Watts, C. (2011). Pornography addiction: A neuroscience perspective. Surgical Neurology International, 2(1), 1–19. : www.scienceopen.com/document?vid=b97953a8-41e8-431d82f7-a538fde9dd0c Huang, M. (2016). Sex workers at risk: A research summary of human rights abuses against sex workers. Amnesty International, May 23. www.amnestyusa.org/reports/sex-workers-at-risk-a-research-summaryof-human-rights-abuses-against-sex-workers Kara, S. (2009). Sex Trafficking. New York: Colombia University Press. Lederer, L. (2010). Pornography’s link to sex trafficking. Briefing at the U.S. Capitol Hill Sponsored by the Coalition for the War on Illegal Pornography. www.youtube.com/watch?v=jSRxpVDNpGI

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Sex trafficking and peace Lee, S., & Persson, P. 2018. Human Trafficking and Regulating Prostitution. November 1. IFN Working Paper No. 996; New York: NYU Stern School of Business EC-12-07; NYU Law and Economics Research Paper No. 12-08. Lehnardt, K. 56 little known human trafficking facts, Fact Retriever. September 20. www.factretriever. com/human-trafficking-facts McKay, H. B., and Dolff, D. J. (1984). The Impact of Pornography. Ottawa, Canada: Department of Justice. MacKinnon, C., & Dworkin, A. (1988). Pornography and Human Rights: A New Day for Women’s Equality. Minneapolis, MN: Organizing Against Pornography. Meese Commission. (1986). Final Report of the Attorney General Commission on pornography. Washington, DC: Department of Justice. July 1986. https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/000824987 National Center on Sexual Exploitation (2017). Pornography and sex trafficking: The facts. National Center on Sexual Exploitation. http://stoptraffickingdemand.com/trafficking-within-the-industry Olsen, C. (2017). An online epidemic: The inseparable link between porn and human trafficking, Fight the New Drug. http://fightthenewdrug.org/the-internet-can-be-a-very-unsexy-place-we/ Peters, R. W., Lederer, L. J., & Kelly, S. (2012). The slave and the porn star, Journal of Human Rights and Civil Society, 5(1), 1–21. Post, D. (2015). Amnesty International’s draft policy on “sex work” violates human rights. Arizona Capitol Times, Oct. 1. http://azcapitoltimes.com/news/2015/10/01/amnesty-internationals-draft-policyon-sex-work-violates-human-rights Rape for Profit (2017). Rape for profit. www.rescuefreedom.org/get-involved/refusetoclick Sabina, C., Wolak, J., & Finkelhor, D. (2008). The nature and dynamics of internet pornography exposure for youth. CyberPsychology and Behavior, 11(6), 1–3. Shelley, L. (2010). Human Trafficking. New York: Cambridge University Press. She’s Somebody’s Daughter (2017) Get the facts about sex trafficking.shessomebodysdaughter.com/ get-the-facts-about-sex-trafficking Shue, H. (1980). Basic Rights: Subsistence, Affluence, and U.S. Foreign Policy. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Skinner, E. B. (2008). A Crime So Monstrous: Face-to-Face with Modern-Day Slavery. New York: Free Press. Stoecker, S. (2000). The rise in human trafficking and the role of organized crime. Demokratizatsiya, 8(1), 1–9. Sun, C., Bridges, A., Johnson, J. A., & Ezzell, M. B. (2016). Pornography and the male sexual script: An analysis of consumption and sexual relations. Archives of Sexual Behavior, 45(4), 983–94. UNIFEM (2005). Not a Minute More. New York: United Nations Development Fund for Women. UNODOC (2010). Factsheet on human trafficking. New York: United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime. www.unodc.org/documents/humantrafficking/UNVTF_fs_HT_EN.pdf. Walker-Rodriguez, A., & Hill, R. (2011). Human sex trafficking. FBI Law Enforcement Bulletin, Mar. 4 https://leb.fbi.gov/2011/march/human-sex-trafficking. Washington Times. (2009). Taliban buying children for suicide bombers. The Washington Times, July 2. www.washingtontimes.com/news/2009/jul/02/taliban-buying-children-to-serve-as-suicide-bomber/ Westen, J. H. (2015). Want to stop sex trafficking? Look to America’s porn addiction, Huffington Post. January 28. www.huffpost.com/entry/want-to-stop-sex-traffick_b_6563338 Wikipedia Contributors (2019). Feminist views on pornography. https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index. php?title=Feminist_views_on_pornography&oldid=892677107 World Bank (2007). Global Monitoring Report: Confronting the Challenges of Gender Equality and Fragile States. Washington, DC: World Bank.

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12 A HOLISTIC APPROACH TO ADDRESSING GENDER, VIOLENCE, HEALTH, AND PEACE Izzeldin Abuelaish and Paula Godoy-Ruiz Violence against women (VAW) is one of the most prevalent human rights violations globally. One in every three women has been beaten, sexually assaulted, or abused in some way most often by someone she knows (World Health Organization, 2013). VAW is a characteristic of pre- and post-conflict societies. It is common for a society to experience trafficking, forced prostitution, domestic violence, and rape following a major conflict (Manjoo & McRaith, 2011). There is a continuum of different forms of VAW in war and in peace. While we review many forms of VAW, this chapter is not an exhaustive review of all of the forms of violence experienced by women. Women are heavily affected during war and security is the most significant challenge they face, with health, education, employment, food, and shelter closely following. Women’s health is significantly compromised in conflict zones due to diminished security and increased violence. Women are susceptible to violence during all stages of conflict due to their gender, and experience atrocities as individual members of society. Women are impacted by physical violence, structural violence, and poverty, and experience social exclusion, humiliation, and inequalities that increase their burden of illness and disease. Scheper-Hughes and Bourgois (2004) define structural violence as “chronic, historically entrenched political-economic oppression and social inequality, ranging from exploitative international terms of trade to abusive local working conditions and high infant mortality rate” (p. 426). In addition, women also experience inadequate health care systems. Typically, the financial costs of wars receive attention from governments, non-governmental organizations (NGOs), and researchers. Yet what about the emotional, psychological, human pain and suffering, and social and physical costs of violence with relation to the people it affects? How does violence impact women’s health and their psychosocial wellbeing, social relations, and their families, communities, and nations? In this chapter we address the aforementioned questions exploring the social and cultural construction of gender ideologies that promote VAW. We also address the health consequences of VAW, women’s health, and access to health services and strategies to promote peace and women’s wellbeing. A holistic framework is needed to approach women and women’s health, which includes an understanding of their environment and context, namely who they are; 156

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where they are from; what their situation is; and what factors gave rise to their situation in order to unmake the social phenomena of violence and conflict and address their multiple impacts on the lives of women. Global initiatives such as the United Nations Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) and the more recent Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) have made great strides in reducing mortality and morbidity resulting from gender inequality. Yet an inadvertent consequence of such measures is the monumental shift towards prioritizing women in their reproductive years compared to women across the whole age spectrum. A woman’s health and wellbeing is not solely defined by her reproductive years, as the challenges women face are not solely healthrelated. The challenges women face are numerous and impact all stages of their lives.

Defining violence and its manifestations in the lives of women Our discussion of VAW draws on the following two definitions of violence. Galtung (1993) understands violence as the “avoidable impairment of fundamental human needs or, to put it in more general terms, the impairment of human life, which lowers the actual degree to which someone is able to meet their needs below that which would otherwise be possible. The threat of violence is also violence" (p. 106). The World Health Organization (WHO) defines violence as "the intentional use of physical force or power, threatened or actual, against oneself, another person, or against a group or community, that either results in or has a high likelihood of resulting in injury, death, psychological harm, mal-development, or deprivation” (Murray et al., 2002, p. 5). As such, we understand VAW as a human-made phenomenon, which can be unmade. There are different manifestations of VAW that occur in all countries, perpetrated by both militants and civilians and may involve physical assault, sexual abuse, and spousal abuse. Domestic and family violence remain an ever-present challenge for women worldwide (WHO, 2005). In contexts of conflict, rape is a common weapon of war and women also die in large numbers as the casualties of conflict. Violence may end in death, as in the case of honor killings or femicide, or it can result in the slow death, increased morbidity, and lower physical, social, and psychological wellbeing of women (Vandello & Cohen, 2004, Baldry et al., 2013; Nesheiwat, 2005; Kulczycki & Windle 2011; Gidda, 2017; Lorrigio, 2017). Gender refers to the “social attributes and opportunities associated with being male and female and the relationships between women and men and girls and boys, as well as the relations between women and those men” (United Nations Office of the Special Advisor on Gender Issues, 2002). To an extreme, the validation of gender inequality or the disparity that arises on the basis of gender (United Nations Development Program, 2013) is further observable in parts of the world where gender selection is pervasive and the favoring of sons over daughters is far from discreet (Guo et al., 2016). The implicit message that women are worthless is an underlying cultural value (Hesketh & Xing, 2006). In many societies around the world, social and cultural norms do not encourage women to take on leadership roles. Cultural ideologies often support and promote VAW. Much ideological and symbolic weight is assigned to women’s bodies and their sexual purity. Women are seen as mothers transmitting important values to the next generation, as bearers of the community’s future generations, the more “vulnerable” members of a community. As such, attacks on the honor of men often occur in the form of rape and killing of their women. At the root of the worldwide VAW problem is gender inequality at the social, political, and economic levels. VAW is deeply entrenched in longstanding systems of patriarchy. 157

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Women tend to be vastly under-represented in positions of power and politics and the decisionmaking of communities and nations. Among the various manifestations of gender inequality are gender wage gaps, which are consistently wider in low- and middle-income countries (International Labor Organization, 2014). According to the 2015 Global Wage Report, a woman’s average wages are up to 36 percent less than a man’s (Bhutta et al., 2008). In rural areas of low- and middle-income countries, women have very few assets and income, less decisionmaking power in the household, and poor access to credit and extension services. In these situations, legal and cultural barriers restrict women from gaining employment that might lead to a decent living wage, forcing them into informal and lowpaying work that is often done from home (Keeley, 2015). Socioeconomic determinants are critical to any discussion of VAW. Sir Michael Marmot, Chair of the WHO Commission on the Social Determinants of Health, entreated in 2009 that, “social injustice is a matter of life and death,” a fact that “needs continuously to be brought to the fore” (Social Medicine, 2009, p. 109). Poverty, as a key determinant of health, is correlated with poor maternal outcomes, violent conflict, and poor resilience. High female mortality rates in Sub-Saharan Africa may be a result of indirect effects of conflict on maternal health (Urdal & Primus, 2013). Eight of the ten countries with the highest maternal mortality ratios have experienced current or recent conflict, illustrating how women face numerous difficulties as a result of war beyond poverty, sexual exploitation, or gender-based violence (Guha-Sapir et al., 2015). Further, a country torn apart by war and lacking the resources to rebuild itself only increases the risk of poverty, malnutrition, displacement, and adverse health outcomes for women (Human Security Report, 2012).

Violence against women in the context of war and women’s wellbeing In the 21st century violent armed conflict has been taking an unprecedented number of civilian lives, with women and their children too often its victims. Women die every day due to these violent conflicts around the world. The weapons used against women are many. Women are attacked in bombings, massacres, and shootings. They are tortured, beaten, kidnapped, raped, forced into prostitution, trafficked, intimidated, forcibly married or impregnated, or made to abort in unsafe conditions. Women are subjected to hate violence due to their gender (Giles & Hyndman, 2004). Violence against women was used as a weapon of war in Guatemala, Rwanda, and Kosovo. A study of civilian deaths in the Syrian conflict found that children and women, compared with civilian men, had higher odds of death by explosive weapons and chemical weaponry than by shooting deaths (United Nations Fund for Population Activities, 2017). Moreover, air bombardments and shelling presented the next most likely causes of death among Syrian women (Guha-Sapir et al., 2015). Women are also more likely to die of indirect causes of war than men, particularly from gender-based violence in the post-conflict period (Ormhaug et al., 2009). Armed conflict decreases and hinders a woman’s safety, security, and movement. It also disrupts access to food as well as causing displacement. In particular, women are more likely than men to be affected and their access to aid can be undermined by gender-based discrimination. Pre-existing gender-based disparities in access to income and land mean that women often have fewer financial resources to afford the increased prices of food in crisis-affected areas. This disparity extends to mobility and work opportunities (United Nations Development Program, 2013). All forms of violence against women increase during disasters and displacement (Care International, 2017). For example, child marriage rates are four times higher in Syria now than 158

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before the crisis and more than a third of Syrian refugee women between the ages of 20 and 24 have been married before the age of 18 (United Nations Fund for Population Activities, 2017). The life expectancy for Syrian women has declined from 75.9 to 55.7 years of age (United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, 2016). Syrian women and men have reported increased violence within the home, due to external stressors (United Nations Fund for Population Activities, 2016). In countries in conflict, women and girls often face violence, torture, and death, experiencing poverty, displacement, and loss of loved ones, which directly impacts their mental and physical health. We often hear of the impact of conflict and war on people’s mental health and wellbeing, as women display symptoms of trauma or post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), depression, and anxiety. There is another side to these stories and its the unrecognized part of pain and horror which women themselves often desire to be heard. Violence has severe and long-lasting consequences for a woman across the lifespan, and has deep consequences for her family and community. VAW can lead to physical injury and disability, sexual and reproductive health problems, unwanted pregnancies and sexually transmitted infections, non-communicable diseases, mental health and substance use disorders, depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress (Campbell, 2002; Godoy-Paiz et al., 2011; World Health Organization, 2005). War and armed conflict are major causes of ill health, contributing to the burden of disease, death, and disability among communities worldwide (Murray et al., 2002). Mental health effects on men, women, and children are one of the most significant consequences of war (Murthy & Lakshminarayana, 2006). The long-term effects of war signal that, even years after the violence has ended, the victims experience feelings of sorrow and injustice, altered grieving processes, psychosomatic complaints, traumatic memories and PTSD, nightmares and insomnia, depression, suicide, anxiety, and increased alcohol and drug abuse (Campbell 2002; Godoy-Paiz et al., 2011; World Health Organization, 2005). VAW can have devastating effects on a woman’s wellbeing and daily life, impacting the school she attends or where she works (Howell, 2004; Godoy-Paiz, 2012). The violence may leave communities scared, as victims now have to live alongside perpetrators. VAW may result in transgenerational trauma and the passing down of patterns of violence from one generation to the next, or there may be an increase of VAW in the post-conflict period. Femicide has been on the rise in Guatemala following the end of the country’s 36-year armed conflict (GodoyPaiz, 2008, 2012). Violence and conflict can intensify hunger and malnutrition in women, lead to sexually transmitted infections, non-communicable diseases, and life-long trauma impacting their education and community participation. For example, a woman or her family may face stigma or be fearful that she travel alone and expose herself to further violence. She may instead stay home. VAW leads to communities and nations’ experiencing a loss of women leaders and teachers and nurturers of the next generation, as ethnic and community ruptures can emerge or intensify. There is a loss of productivity, judicial costs, and costs of health services. The most serious of the costs of VAW is continuation of a vicious cycle of hate, violence, indifference, and silence around it.

Health and access to health care The health of mothers is increasingly seen as an issue of rights, entitlements, and a dayto-day struggle to achieve these entitlements. (World Health Organization, 2005, p. 7) 159

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The enjoyment of the highest attainable standard of health is one of the fundamental rights of every human being without distinction of race, religion, political belief, economic or social condition. (United Nations, 1948) While human rights are established in policy, in practice they are still far from universally implemented, and this is absolutely the case with health-related rights. In arenas of conflict, often the international community’s concern with direct violence and political turmoil means that maternal health issues are sacrificed as finite resources. Any determined effort to “reduce health inequities” necessitates shifting the “distribution of power” within a society, by “empowering” communities to strive for the fulfillment of their needs and, in so doing, challenging existing structures, which compromise those communities’ attainment of rights (World Health Organization, 2008, p. 18). This task is by nature political. Women may experience multiple barriers to accessing health care services despite the fact that a number of international legal instruments guarantee women’s health. Access is broadly defined as (1) the availability of adequate services within reach for a person to obtain health care; (2) the availability of adequate delivery of services for persons seeking services, regardless of social or cultural factors such as age, sex, ethnicity, or religion; and (3) a person’s ability to afford basic services without monetary shortfalls (Evans et al., 2013). Consequently, the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights entitles mothers and children to “special care assistance” (Article 25). This provision for mothers and children was extended in the UNs 1966 International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights as the “right of everyone to the enjoyment of the highest attainable standard of physical and mental health” (Article 12). Violence and conflict also decrease the availability of services while increasing the burden of illness and need. Gender inequities, cultural ideologies, and conflict may create a restricted infrastructure resulting in barriers to accessing healthcare (Grimes et al., 2011). The lack of ongoing interaction with health care not only limits women’s access to prenatal and postnatal care, but also to the necessary continuous comprehensive health care across the lifespan. The “failure to address preventable maternal disability and death represents one of the greatest social injustices of our time”; “women’s reproductive health risks are not mere misfortunes and unavoidable natural disadvantages of pregnancy, but injustices that societies are able and obligated to remedy,” (Cook & Dickens, 2001, p. 5). Barriers to health care may lead to improper treatment, exacerbations of or unmet healthcare needs, which can accumulate and contribute to preventable morbidity and mortality. For example, common barriers to the delivery of emergency obstetric care services in postconflict Burundi and Uganda included a shortage of trained staff; lack of critical health services and supplies; poor mental health; and limited data collection and health surveillance systems (Chi et al., 2015). Such barriers and restricted health infrastructure may account for the over 250,000 worldwide deaths of women annually from preventable pregnancy-related complications (Ki-Moon, 2010). Women also remain at high risk of communicable diseases such as HIV/AIDS, malaria, and tuberculosis (United Nations, 2015). Unsafe and often unwanted and forced sexual activity contribute to the higher risk of HIV infection (World Health Organization, 2016). Tuberculosis is a leading cause of death among reproductive age women in low-income countries, resulting in about half a million female deaths per year (World Health Organization, 2016). The burden of infectious diseases poses a significant challenge to women, especially as an indirect cause of maternal mortality and morbidity through an elevated risk of obstetric complications (Ronsmans & Graham, 2006). 160

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As these burdens bear down particularly heavily on women, the increasingly devastating effects as well as the increasing incidence and prevalence of chronic diseases in women are often overlooked (Doyal & Hoffman, 2009). In South Africa, the mortality rates among women in reproductive years have increased substantially over the past decade, and approximately 25 percent of these deaths were caused by the increasing incidence of non-communicable disease (Bradshaw & Nannan, 2006). Cervical cancer still remains the tenth leading cause of death in South Africa, although it is largely preventable through continuous contact with the healthcare system (Doyal & Hoffman, 2009). Moreover, the incidence of cardiovascular disease among women in many of the world’s poorest countries substantially increased in the past few decades (Leeder et al., 2004). This pattern can be observed in South Africa, where cardiovascular disease is believed to impact one in four women below the age of 60 (Doyal & Hoffman, 2009). There is an inextricable link between women’s barriers to accessing health services and their ill health. Due to economic vulnerability, lower educational attainment, and lack of empowerment, women face health complications that may be easily prevented or treated. Preventable mortality and morbidity are a tragic violation of human rights. Appropriate attention must be paid to the increasing burden of all preventable diseases on women, who often undertake the caretaking roles for others in the society. These problems will require increased provision of gender-sensitive health promotion strategies, improved primary care, and better access to specialized care.

A holistic framework approach on violence against women We have explored the multiple forms of VAW and their devastating effects for women’s health and wellbeing. In this section we propose a holistic framework for addressing violence as well as women’s health and wellbeing (see Figure 12.1). At the centre of this model is the woman herself who is located within a social ecosystem that includes her family and community, economic and political conditions, cultural and religious forces, health and social services, legal frameworks and institutions, and environmental factors both at the local and global levels. These external forces each can play a role in the development and promotion of VAW, which may take multiple forms. Women can experience one or multiple forms of violence, and these impact her health and wellbeing. Interventions must be aimed at all levels of the model to promote the health and wellbeing of women. Downstream approaches, such as treating the woman’s physical or psychological wounds inflicted by violence, are an essential part of promoting women’s health. Yet, interventions would be incomplete if they only target women and the direct health effects of physical violence. Interventions must also take into account the family, community, and the institutional landscape (education, law, and social/health services) at the “midstream” or “sidestream” level. Finally, we need to address the cultural, environmental, legal, political, and economic forces (the structural forces or “upstream factors”) that create and/or support different manifestations of violence in the lives of women that need to be tackled if we are to unmake violence in all its forms. The forms of VAW depicted on this wheel are not exhaustive. We tried to depict common forms of violence a woman might experience during the course of her life, which although experienced by the individual, have social, political, economic, and cultural dimensions (upstream, midstream, and downstream causes). Interventions aimed at improving women’s health should address the multiple layers that sustain gender inequality and VAW. Our model brings to bear how the international community must recognize the broader upstream, downstream, and midstream determinants of health at play in global health today. 161

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Figure 12.1  Violence and women’s health: a holistic framework

Upstream interventions and strategies involve the action of governments through policy and international collaboration to focus on removing socioeconomic barriers to allow people the maximal opportunity to achieve their optimal health potential. Midstream determinants are intermediate factors with interventions aimed at improving health behaviors. Downstream determinants occur at the micro level with interventions and strategies focused on providing adequate access to care to minimize inequalities in health (Turrell et al., 2006). Additionally, it is important to consider the cultural, social, economic, and political dynamics that influence the framework of health for women. Although this framework conveniently categorizes issues relating to women, any attempt to accurately define this phenomenon will be inadequate. The goal is not to fully understand women and the landscape of women’s issues. Instead it is to understand the social, cultural, economic, and health factors relating to women’s health and their interactions with one another. Thus, as the international community transitions into the UN SDGs, it is necessary to change our strategies and shift the focus from maternal mortality towards a holistic approach that encompasses the entirety of women, including their health.

Peace and women’s health In war-torn societies, women often keep societies going. They maintain the social fabric. They replace destroyed social services and tend to the sick and wounded. As a result, women are the prime advocates of peace. (Annan, 2001) 162

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In keeping with our holistic model of violence and women’s health, it is our position that health initiatives, campaigns, and programs can make inroads into communities experiencing organized conflict and help lay the foundation for human peace. However, multi-sectoral and multi-level responses are also required to fully address violence’s effects on women’s health and promote peace. The international community must recognize the broader upstream, downstream, and midstream determinants of health at play in global health today, including the cultural, social, economic, and political dynamics that influence the framework of health and women’s wellbeing. Social and cultural change should accompany this process to break rigid gender stereotypes that treat women as sexual and reproductive objects and males as aggressive subjects. We may begin to build the bridges of peace acknowledging our shared vulnerability, strength, and humanity. The inclusion of women at all levels of promoting health and peace is necessary. Health planning, peace negotiations, and peacebuilding that does not include women at the negotiating table will be fraught with exclusions, and will run the risk of sustaining systems that produce patriarchy and the systematic abuse of women’s human rights. In contexts of conflict and postwar rebuilding it is necessary for resources to also be placed toward eliminating Gender Based Violence (GBV) against women. In 2015 only 0.5 percent of funding for humanitarian action went to GBV support (United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, 2016). Most aid for gender equality in fragile contexts is directed towards education and health, which are critical but targeted efforts at reducing VAW are also required. As the world moves towards the implementation of the UN SDGs it is important to recognize that it is not only goal 5 (gender equality) that promises to improve the lives and wellbeing of women. Rather, goals 1–17 of all the SDGs, including poverty, hunger, health, education, clean water and sanitation, energy, strong economy, innovation and infrastructure, social inequalities, sustainable cities and communities, responsible consumption, environmental and planet health, peace and justice and partnerships, are all linked to our common wellbeing as men, women, and children. Achievements in all SDG areas have great potential in reducing the multiple forms of violence in women’s lives and in enhancing their wellbeing.

Conclusion The cessation of violent conflict and the eradication of all forms of VAW cannot be achieved without the active and serious participation of women in the legislative, executive, and judiciary powers, as well as through supporting local women’s initiatives and their meaningful participation in all levels of the political process. Education is a necessary human right empowering women to take on leadership roles and participate meaningfully in their communities. Health and education are mutually strengthening, and a decrease in one of them has a direct relationship to a decrease in the other. The global community has an obligation to spearhead the movement to empower women. Adopting a holistic approach towards empowering women and their health demands a global shift in cultural and societal attitudes that uphold and revere women in status and in value. While this sentiment is common in political agendas and global health initiatives, a radical change can only take root if laypersons and communities adopt it. The global community has a crucial role to play in educating the world about the various challenges faced by women and to work together as an international coalition to prevent and oppose these challenges wherever they may arise. The various hardships faced by women are all human-made. These socially constructed phenomena can all be unmade. The global community has an obligation to promote equality, the peaceful coexistence of the sexes across all societies, a world in which neither sex is fearful of the other, nor seeks to oppress or subjugate the other. 163

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The need to invest in women and women’s health remains urgent and underappreciated. In any society in conflict or in post-peace accord, women are the impetus and driving force in the rebuilding process. Restoring a country to its pre-conflict status is impossible without women as they are key stakeholders and the group most heavily impacted by any conflict. Future solutions must seek to empower women and to give them opportunities to enhance their agency and active leadership to promote worldwide change. The global community is in a unique position to advocate for the importance of women and to give voice to the lived experiences of millions of women touched by gender inequity, violence, and conflict. As with any effort to evoke change, the transition to universal gender equality will undeniably be met with resistance, particularly because it involves overturning often longstanding and culturally entrenched system of beliefs. Cultural ideals are an immensely powerful force that permeates through a community in the form of social values and practices. Thus, a shift in the status quo is needed to stimulate equitable solutions. Women in positions of power can play a key role in spearheading equality and peace. This ideal has been realized in the past, as genderinclusive ideologies are known to be less prone to violence when achieving their objectives (Asal et al., 2013). Societies and communities where women have relatively more status are able to better cooperate with locals to bring about peacebuilding policies and activities, decreasing the risk of violent conflicts (Asal et al., 2013). The positive role of women in conflict is especially important, as evidenced by the work of Nobel Peace laureate, Leymah Gbowee. Women are peacebuilders who are active decisionmakers and key stakeholders in the peacemaking process, spurring communities on to move from war to social justice (Gbowee & Mithers, 2011). Empowering women in their immediate communities to lead and to bring peace at the local level puts them in a position to thrive, accelerating progress in agriculture, food systems, education, employment, and social protections (Gbowee & Mithers, 2011). “The health of all peoples is fundamental to the attainment of peace and security” (World Health Organization, 1946).

References Annan, K. (2001). UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan in his statement to the Afghan women’s summit for democracy. Brussels, Belgium: AWSD. www.un.org/events/women/2002/sit.htm Asal, V., Legault, R., Szekely, O., & Wilkenfeld, J. (2013) Gender ideologies and forms of contentious mobilization in the Middle East. Journal of Peace Research, 50(3), 305–18. Baldry, A. C., Pagliaro, S., & Porcaro, C. (2013). The rule of law at time of masculine honor: Afghan police attitudes and intimate partner violence. Group Processes and Intergroup Relations, 16(3), 363–74. Bhutta, Z. A., Ali, S., Cousens, S., Ali, T. M., Haider, B. A., & Rizvi, A. (2008). Interventions to address maternal, newborn, and child survival: What difference can integrated primary health care strategies make? Lancet, 372(9642), 972–89. Bradshaw, D., & Nannan, N. (2006). Mortality and morbidity among women and children: Maternal, child and women’s health: general. South African Health Review, 20(1), 127–50. Campbell, J. C. (2002). Health consequences of intimate partner violence. Lancet, 359(9314), 1331–6. Care International (2017). Suffering in silence: The 10 most under-reported humanitarian crises of 2016. www.care.org/sites/default/files/documents/report_suffering_in_silence_web_version.pdf Chi, P. C., Bulage, P., Urdal, H., & Sundby, J. (2015). Barriers in the delivery of emergency obstetric and neonatal care in post-conflict Africa. Qualitative case studies of Burundi and Northern Uganda. PLoS ONE 10(9), e0139120. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0139120 Cook, R. J., & Dickens, B. M. (2001). Advancing safe motherhood through human rights. Geneva, Switzerland: World Health Organization. http://apps.who.int/iris/bitstream/10665/66810/1/WHO_RHR_01.5.pdf Doyal, L., & Hoffman, M. (2009). The growing burden of chronic diseases among South African women. CME: Your South African Journal of CPD, 27(10), 456–8. www.ajol.info/index.php/cme/article/ viewFile/50328/39015

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A holistic approach to gender and peace Evans, B. J., Hsu, J., & Boerma, T. (2013). Universal health coverage and universal access. Bulletin of the World Health Organization. 91, 546–546A. http://dx.doi.org/10.2471/BLT.13.125450 [PDF] Galtung, J. (1993). Kultuerlle gewalt. Der Burger im Staat, 43, 106–12. Gbowee, L., & Mithers, C. (2011). Mighty be our Powers: How Sisterhood, Prayer, and Sex Changed a Nation at War, a Memoir. New York: Beast. Gidda, M. (2017). Women are dying in overseas honor killings, and no one knows how bad the problem is. Newsweek. May 12. www.newsweek.com/2017/05/12/honor-killings-violence-against-womenseeta-kaur-india-pakistan-593691.html Giles, W., & Hyndman, J. (Eds.) (2004). Sites of Violence: Gender and Conflict Zones. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Godoy-Paiz, P. (2008). Women in Guatemala’s metropolitan area: Violence, law and social justice. Studies in Social Justice, 2(1), 27–47. Godoy-Paiz, P. (2012). Not just “another woman”: Femicide and representation in Guatemala. Journal of Latin American and Caribbean Anthropology, 17(1), 88–109. Godoy-Paiz, P., Toner, B., & Vidal, C. (2011). “Something in our hearts”: Challenges to mental health among urban Mayan women in post-war Guatemala. Ethnicity and Inequalities in Health and Social Care, 4(3), 127–37. Grimes, C. E., Bowman, K. G., Dodgion, C. M., & Lavy, C. B. (2011). Systematic review of barriers to surgical care in low-income and middle-income countries. World Journal of Surgery, 35(5), 941–50. Guha-Sapir, D, Rodriguez-Llanes, J. M., & Hicks M. H. (2015). Civilian deaths from weapons used in the Syrian conflict. BMJ, 351, h4736. www.bmj.com/content/bmj/351/bmj.h4736.full.pdf Guo, Z., Das Gupta, M., & Li, S. (2016). “Missing girls” in China and India: Trends and policy challenges. Asian Population Studies, 12(2), 135–55. Hesketh, T., & Xing, Z. W. (2006). Abnormal sex ratios in human populations: Causes and consequences. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, 103(36), 13271–5. www. un.org/apps/news/story.asp?NewsID=33971 Howell, J. (2004). Turning out good ethnography, or talking out of turn? Gender, violence, and confidentiality in Southeastern Mexico. Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 33(3), 323–52. Human Security Report (2012). Sexual Violence, Education and War: Beyond the Mainstream Narrative. Vancouver, BC: Human Security Press. www3.nd.edu/~ggoertz/pcir/HumanSecurityReport2012.pdf International Labor Organization (2014). Global Employment Trends. Geneva, Switzerland: ILO. 1–170. http://ilo.org/wcmsp5/groups/public/---dgreports/---dcomm/---publ/documents/publication/ wcms_202326.pdf Keeley, B. (2015). Income inequality: The gap between rich and poor. OECD Insights, 75, 30–5. Paris, France: OECD Publishing. http://dx.doi.org/10.1787/9789264246010-en Ki-Moon, B. (2010). Global Strategy for Women’s and Children’s Health. New York: United Nations. www. who.int/pmnch/topics/maternal/20100914_gswch_en.pdf Kulczycki, A., & Windle, S. (2011). Honor killings in the Middle East and North Africa: A systematic review of the literature. Violence Against Women, 17(11), 1442–64. Leeder, S., Raymond, S., Greenberg, H., Liu, H., & Esson, K. (2004). A Race Against Time: The Challenge of Cardiovascular Disease in Developing Economies. New York: Columbia University Press. Lorrigio, P. (2017). Supreme court of Canada will not hear Hamed Shafia appeal. Global News. http:// globalnews.ca/news/3376728/supreme-court-of-canada-hamed-shafia-appeal/ Manjoo, R., & McRaith C. (2011) Gender-based violence and justice in conflict and post-conflict areas. Cornell International Law Journal, 44(2), 11–31. Murray, C. J. L., King, G., Lopez, A. D., Tomijima, N., & Krug, E. G. (2002). Armed conflict as a public health problem, British Medical Journal, 324(7333), 346–9. Murthy, R. S., & Lakshminarayana, R. (2006). Mental health consequences of war: A brief review of research findings. World Psychiatry, 5(2), 25–31. Nesheiwat, F. (2005). Honor crimes in Jordan: Their treatment under Islamic and Jordanian criminal laws. Penn State International Law Review, 23(2), 251–81. Ormhaug, C., Meier, P., & Hernes, H. (2009). Armed conflict deaths disaggregated by gender. Oslo, Norway: Peace Research Institute Oslo. http://file.prio.no/Publication_files/Prio/Armed%20Conflict%20 Deaths%20Disaggregated%20by%20Gender.pdf Ronsmans, C., & Graham, W. J. (2006). Maternal mortality: Who, when, where, and why. The Lancet, 368(9542), 1189–1200.

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13 PEACE AND QUIET OR NOT-SO-QUIET Gender, rurality, and women’s grassroots peacebuilding Robin Neustaeter Women’s formal and informal community involvement, also referred to as volunteering or helping out, are significant to the wellbeing of children, families, individuals, communities, and the women themselves. These public acts of caring occur within the everyday routines of living (work, play, sleep, eat, etc.) and are normalized so that they often are only noticed by their absence or a complaint (Dominelli, 1995). Although the women or their communities may not label their actions as peacebuilding, their everyday volunteering or helping out can contribute to creating social justice, healthy relationships, and security – elements of peace (Neustaeter, 2016). The women, their communities, and others often do not consider or appreciate how gender informs women’s everyday community involvement practice, meaning-making, and knowledge. Women’s grassroots peacebuilding exists in dialectical relationship with local gender cultures. This dialectic is further informed by cultures of geography, such as rurality. While rural areas are often cast as gender conservative, within rural spaces multiple diverse overlapping gender cultures exist. This chapter examines this dialectical relationship between cultures of gender and rurality and grassroots women’s peacebuilding.

Locating the writer I come to peace and conflict studies (PACS), and women’s peacebuilding via a curiosity about social justice, peace, and the everyday lives of people, in particular women. Living and travelling in different countries and contexts I have observed women, in all places, involved in unpaid public care work addressing community needs in order to create wellbeing for individuals, communities, and sometimes themselves. A pivotal experience came in 2002, while working with the Olof Palme International Centre; I traveled to Serbia, Croatia, and Bosnia Herzegovina to meet with local people working in peace and democracy building initiatives. Seven years after the signing of the Dayton Peace Accord, which signalled an end to a brutal four-year war (Sciolino, 1995), it was clear that the physical and emotional effects of war were still present and everyday peace was still being negotiated and built in formal and informal ways by local people. I listened to many women talk about their peace work; for some it started during the war. Being attentive with my eyes and ears to the reality of post-war peacebuilding first hand intensified my curiosity of women’s local efforts in peace and community development. Community-involved women’s 167

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efforts, challenges, and successes in co-creating and sustaining community wellbeing and peaceable communities have been taken for granted at best, rendered invisible, or dismissed. Making the invisible visible, in regards to women’s community peacebuilding, provides opportunities to honour and learn from what women have done and are doing currently, in order to effectively and constructively support and continue this work now and in the future.

A note about terms To ensure transparency and clarity of key elements of this chapter I wish to clarify two terms: women’s community peacebuilding and peace.

Naming what women are doing Reviewing academic literature on women’s unpaid community care and change work across academic disciplines highlighted that many names are used to refer to this work: communitybased activism (Dominelli, 2006), neighbourhood activism (Susser, 1988), activist mothering (Hart, 2002; Naples, 1998), peacebuilding (Cockburn, 2007; El-Bushra, 2007; Mazurana & McKay, 1999; McKay & Mazurana, 2001; Snyder, 2009), volunteering (Neustaeter, 2015), and, active citizenship (Gouthro, 2009) to name a few. In order to connect with local rural women about their efforts, I sought to find what they called their work. My doctoral research highlighted that these women tend not to use the terms used in academic discourse, with the exception of some who use variations of “volunteerism” and fewer who used “activism” or “advocacy.” Women-in-their-communities tend to use terms such as helping, service, community involvement or work, or no name at all (Neustaeter, 2015). Women and community members will use a term that is relevant to their context and their efforts. For example, Belinda noted that while she views her efforts as advocacy she calls herself a volunteer because advocate is too political and confrontational (Neustaeter, 2016). Considering that this chapter is in a publication about PACS, the term peacebuilding is used.

Peace This chapter builds on a holistic feminist definition of peace as both a goal and the means for achieving the goal – a positive dynamic peace (Brock-Utne, 1989; Galtung, 1969; Groff, 2007; Neustaeter, 2016; Reardon, 1985, 1990; Snyder, 2008; Vellacott, 2000). Positive dynamic peace reflects the absence of both direct and structural violence and is “the presence of ethics and practices of interconnectedness, caring and social justice” (Neustaeter, 2016, p. 8). Jo Vellacott (2000) defines dynamic peace as the “ongoing process of laying a solid foundation for peaceful relations between people, groups and nations” (p. 203). While peace is the absence of violence, it is not the absence of conflict. Peace is collaborative, just, and nonviolent responses to conflict (Harris & Morrison, 2003; Neustaeter, 2016; Reardon, 1988, 1990). Peacebuilding is broadly considered to include actions and initiatives which address direct, structural, and cultural violence (Galtung, 1969, 1990) and create caring, socially just societies in which the needs and rights of all citizens are met and respected (Brock-Utne, 1989; Mac Ginty, 2008; Neustaeter, 2016; Reardon 1985, 1990).

Surveying the fields Women’s peacebuilding Every day in urban, rural, remote, suburban, inner-city, war, post-war, new democracies, and more contexts, women perform everyday public acts of caring in their communities to meet the 168

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needs of children, families, individuals, communities, and women themselves (Anderlini, 2000, 2007; Mazurana & McKay, 1999; Neustaeter 2016). Writing about the significance of women’s everyday peacebuilding to humanity, Elise Boulding (1995, p. 410) stated, What tends to be ignored is the historical reality that women’s work of feeding, rearing, and healing humans and of building and rebuilding households and communities under conditions of constant change – including war, environmental catastrophe, and continual push-pull migrations – produced resources and skills within women’s cultures that have been critical not only to human survival but to human development. El-Bushra (2007) and Mazurana and McKay (2001) identify that women’s peacebuilding ideas and practices include psychosocial, creative, relational, and spiritual elements, which acknowledge and reflect the everyday lived experiences of individuals and communities. Rankin (2002) identifies women’s local-level change practice as “politics by another means.” Women’s community peacebuilding experiences and initiatives are rooted in the local context far away from the elite-level peace players and processes, such as high-level diplomacy and peace-treaty negotiations (Anderlini, 2000, 2007; El-Bushra, 2007; Mac Ginty, 2014; Mazurana & McKay, 1999; Meintjes et al., 2001). Patriarchy, the dominant gender system, typically constructs and perpetuates the image of women as passive (Chodorow, 1978; Forcey, 2016; Reardon, 1985), and dismisses and supresses women’s agentic roles (Neustaeter, 2016; Snyder, 2009). Patriarchy manifests similarly and uniquely in local contexts, informing and informed by local gender ideologies and values. Knowing their local sociocultural contexts via their own situated experiences, women develop relevant and effective responses to community needs and challenges. In doing so, women negotiate situated peacebuilding practices and knowledge responsive to their sociocultural geographies (Neustaeter, 2015). Drawing upon the legitimate female attributes of being maternal and caring, women address community needs demonstrating their skills and expertise informed by their lived experiences and determination to address local concerns and get things done (Koven & Michel, 2013; Naples, 1998; Neustaeter, 2015). While there is a prevalent and perhaps dominant concept of women as passive, as peacebuilders and peacemakers, women’s experiences and roles in society, including in social issues and conflict, violence and war, are multiple and diverse and may not espouse the values and goals of peace (Snyder, 2009; Sylvester, 1995). Women often draw upon the image and expectations of socially and culturally accepted maternal and caring female attributes to motivate, legitimize, and give authority to their peacebuilding for themselves and their communities (Dominelli, 2006; Forcey, 2016; Gilligan, 1982; Krauss, 1998).

Rurality and gender Rural areas are diverse in multiple ways; there are different ruralities within rural geographical spaces. Rurality refers to the experience of being rural (Cloke, 2006; Panelli, 2006). Jo Little (2017) clarifies that “there is no one common understanding or experience of rurality but different ‘lived realities’ that are shaped by individual circumstances as well as local histories and geographies” (p. 473). Little goes on to clarify that key notions of rurality speak to a particular rural experience yet often form generalized ideals of “rural” life. These characteristics include “the notions of community, tight knit and interwoven nature of social and family relations as well as more conservative and traditional ideas of gender, 169

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sexuality and social identity” (Little, 2017, p. 473). Rural areas have been associated with the collective experience of the gemeinschaft ideal; as being tranquil with social harmony and free of social problems troubling urban centres, constructing an idyll which dismisses realities that do not fit in this hegemonic construct (Brandth & Haugen, 1997; Cloke, 2006; Naples, 1994; Short, 2006). A deficit construct of rurality presents a lack of racial, gender, and cultural diversity; poverty; a lack of services and educational and professional opportunities (Wagner, 2014). Prevailing white, middle-class, male, heteronormative constructs of rurality dismiss other ruralities which do not fit on grounds of race, class, gender, sexuality, education, ability, and so on (Cloke, 2006). A social harmony rural idyll ignores social conflicts, such as sex, gender, class, and race conflicts that are present in rural areas. Rural areas and rurality are complex and dynamic. When considering rural areas and rurality it is important to ask what has informed or is informing our perceptions and experiences of rural. Whose rurality are we seeking? Whose rurality are we seeing? The diversity of ruralities is significant to rural women as they live and negotiate varied gendered experiences within their lived spaces, such as the home, work, community, school, church, and farm. The gender conservative nature of many rural areas perpetuates long-held ideals of traditional conservative gender roles and expectations, which position men in the public sphere and women in the private sphere. Rural idylls need to be critically considered in how they perpetuate gender inequality. For example, while people may hang onto the collective gemeinschaft ideal, particularly for women and by women, individualism is more accepted and recognized in men (Naples, 1994). Women’s abilities to make individual (and collective) choices are constrained by a gendered idyll that suppresses women’s independence and ability to be individuals. This can be particularly true when their choices challenge the status quo (Naples, 1994; Neustaeter, 2016). Rural areas as free from social issues affecting urban areas, including women and gender issues, dismiss rural women’s concerns for equity and equality, as well as their roles and influence on social and political change, for example, the suffrage and early farm women’s movements in Canada. As well, it renders invisible the influence and efforts of rural women’s present peacebuilding in their communities and beyond. This complexity of ruralities may appear to make any discussion and analysis of gender and sociocultural spaces futile, yet the purpose of this exploration is to pay attention and be present.

Taking a closer look To further explore the dialectic between women’s peacebuilding and local gender cultures it can be helpful to look closely at women’s experiences. Between 2012 and 2014, over 30 women, between the ages of 28 and 82, living in towns, villages, reservations, and farms in Manitoba, participated in my doctoral research on women’s community peacebuilding. In semi-structured, conversationbased interviews women shared their experiences of being informally and formally involved in their rural communities. The purpose of the study was to uncover and examine how rural women are involved in everyday peacebuilding within their communities, and their learning for and in their peacebuilding practice. Pseudonyms are used to protect the identity of the women. Women were involved collectively in over 100 local organizations and initiatives, and local chapters of provincial or national organizations were represented (Neustaeter, 2016). Their peacebuilding focused on numerous concerns including the church, local politics, arts, family, health, and sports and recreation (Neustaeter, 2016). Listening to these women share their experiences and knowledge highlighted the complexity of rurality and situated peacebuilding that women negotiate in order to create wellbeing 170

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and abundance in their homeplaces (Gouthro, 2000, 2005; McKnight & Block, 2010). What stood out for me in this research is that, while rural areas are often touted as lacking a feminist or women’s movement, listening to the women speak of their peacebuilding situated to their contexts, I began to see a long, historical, and current movement for women’s equity and recognition that reflects yet effectively and slowly challenges the local sociocultural contexts. The ideal of rural areas holding a deficit of social justice, particularly around gender, was challenged by the women’s experiences of advocating for constructive solutions to the issues in their communities. For example, women were active in saving local bodies of water and environmental education; starting farmers’ markets to support home-based businesses and small-scale famers, many of whom are women; and, establishing food banks, women’s shelters, daycares, and family resource programs and centres. Gender identities shape and are shaped by experiences in communities, including experiences of peacebuilding. Women who participated in my doctoral research negotiated their gendered knowledge and awareness across various spaces and identities; including, for example, in the spheres of politics, business, religion, and the homeplace, as well as real and perceived opportunities and barriers. When asked specifically about the influence of gender on their peacebuilding practice many women stated they were not sure how being a woman influenced their involvement, other than, as some noted, what they were involved in. Women, in particular mothers, were typically involved in needs regarding children, families, health, and wellbeing. Maria, a retired school teacher shared, “well, you know, having never been anything but [a woman] I have no idea.” In addition, Dot noted, “I’m afraid I cannot give you a very insightful answer on that because I just have not thought of myself in terms of what makes me different as a woman than what a man would be.” While gender roles are intimately socially interdependent, comparing the experiences and influence of being a woman to being a man risks insinuating that being a woman does not stand as a legitimate experience in its own right. Women’s experiences are connected to systems of patriarchy differently than men’s experiences. While women may not speak explicitly about gender and peacebuilding, it is in listening to their stories that we may hear descriptions of what each women’s experience is of being a rural woman peacebuilder.

Women’s traits Participants identified with the nurturing and care-giving traits assigned to women peacebuilders. Several women suggested that women bring a nurturing approach to community involvement. Sadie described her approach as “that nurturing” while Debra observed, “I think [women] just bring a gentler, maybe a little more give and take.” Moreover, Louise pointed out “a woman will very often, will look with her heart, and a man will look with his mind and that up to a certain point makes sense.” Finally, Lena shared, “I think that’s the women, the nurturers. I think that that just goes to the heart of who women are.” Women and others in general perceive themselves to be the caregivers and nurturers in families and communities.

Roles Women’s observations of community events highlighted a gender-informed assigning of work. Women are involved in unpaid formal peacebuilding by sitting on committees and boards of non-profit organizations and churches, and informal efforts of helping out organizations and people as needed. In their formal efforts women have been board chair, secretary, treasurer, and member at large. Women in leadership positions may be more common on 171

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some boards than others. For example, it may be more common to find women on boards of organizations addressing needs of families, children, and women, including schools, hospitals, daycares, shelters, and family resource centres. When looking at women’s individual experiences of peacebuilding it is important to locate their actions in the sociocultural context, including the sociocultural history of the community. Looking back, Sadie, who is in her sixties and grew up and lives in a Mennonite community, noted that while gendered roles are shifting, they are still informed by the community’s peacebuilding cultures, I think culturally you know with the Mennonite area background you see a lot of women volunteers. Historically, its been sort of an expectation you know. . . . Everywhere I ever went the Sunday school teachers were always women. You know you hardly ever saw a male Sunday school teacher . . . whereas when it became sports where it was more male dominated you would see more men out there. . . . maybe its like the barn-raising . . . the guys are all working on the barn and the women are making food. The men eat first and then the women and then the kids or however that went. So I’m thinking it’s representative in our communities of some of that cultural experience that we’ve inherited. (Sadie, private communication, January 2013) Drawing on the example of the ubiquitous barn-raising, Sadie points out the historical gendered division of labor, and stereotypes of masculine and feminine work. At the same time, sharing this example, which is often given as an ideal of community cooperation, risks perpetuating gender role stereotypes. Several women raised concerns about generalizations of gender roles, for example, women in roles or organizations focused on caring and nurturing, as well as food preparation and serving. They noted how such generalizations stereotype women and men into and out of caring and nurturing roles. When women step outside of these roles they risk facing backlash, not being taken seriously, called rude names, or discounted. However, when men take on caring and nurturing roles or become involved in what are often considered women’s spheres (daycare, women’s shelters) there is an element of admiration. Women reported noticing gender shifts in roles and sectors, with more women taking centre stage and being involved in what are often considered male-dominated spaces, for example, municipal and town councils, school boards, hospital and police boards, and volunteer firefighting. Women’s participation in these volunteer sectors represents a local gender shift, and while women are involved in these spheres, women still may not hold key leadership or decisionmaking positions. For example, while a woman may be a school board trustee, though often in the minority, few women have been board chair of a local public school board. Similarly, while a woman may be a town or rural municipality councillor, no woman has been mayor or reeve. Lois, Joan, and Kathleen, all the first women elected to their local town councils, and Sonja, the first female board chair of a private school, did not take on these roles to break gender norms, rather their motivations were to use their knowledge and skills to benefit their communities and make a difference. Sonja expressed that had she stopped to think about being the first woman in that role, she probably never would have done it. Sadie hypothesized that these role changes are connected to more women working out of the home and building careers, and men taking on more caregiving work within the family. Just as there are assumptions, traditions, and patterns around who does what, there are examples of people doing things outside of gender norms and that these norms are changing. For example, Stacey cautioned, “it feels like generalizations to talk about women are this or women are that.” Gender roles in peacebuilding are not cut and dried, nor are they static. Cultures of peacebuilding and cooperation inform expectations in 172

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regards to what is appropriate based on gender. As well, these cultures and gender expectations are changing, slowly.

Role models Central to women’s peacebuilding practice, knowledge, and motivation are role models. Role models can be crucial in how women frame their possibilities and capabilities in regards to peacebuilding. Several women shared stories of early role models in their childhood who encouraged them to be involved in local peacebuilding, to think and act in independent ways, and to see possibilities for females outside of traditional gendered roles and occupations. Not all role models were specific to peacebuilding as participants made connections between broader characteristics, expertise, and actions to their own peacebuilding practice. As a young girl growing up on a farm, Helena often helped her parents with farm work and would go to farm-calls with her father who was a country vet. Helena and her husband run a dairy operation. We worked alongside my Dad and if he was out working we were alongside of that. Then coming back into the community as a married woman, like a young married woman, then it was not a blink or anything if I stepped up onto a tractor and drove a tractor you know because I had done that all my life and they had seen me do it all my life. . . . Being a woman never influenced the work I did. I just did the work. Whatever I took on I never really thought whether it was a men’s job or a women’s job. (Helena, personal communication, March 2013) Now retired, Dot recalled that as a child her parents were missionaries in India and her father taught and encouraged her to manage money and be independent at a young age so that when she went to college in North America she could manage on her own. Being confident in her ability to be independent and in charge of “the purse strings” taught Dot that she can be her own person in the world – and do what she believes in – including improving community and environmental wellbeing. Barbara remembered an aunt from Australia who was a journalist and travelled the world in the 1940s and 1950s – a woman who contrasted starkly with the typical homemakers she saw around her growing up in rural Manitoba. Not only family, yet also community members were also identified as role models. Tanya recalled admiring three competent articulate community women who demonstrated what women can do in the community and be leaders. The women, either within their families or communities, notably knew most role models. Having role models so close and situated in their own context presented opportunities for building mentoring relationships. When mentors were within the same community they could share experiential knowledge specific to the context, which would be advantageous for the women in their own peacebuilding practice.

Challenges and strategies Participants’ stories of peacebuilding highlighted both challenges and strategies in regards to gender. Pamela and others recognized the glass ceiling and old-boys club, which in their experience prevent women from attaining positions of formal power and leadership, as well as having their ideas and voices heard when they spoke. Speaking to these challenges, Pamela shared “I’m finding there is still a glass ceiling. No matter how much or how long women try to 173

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prove that they are capable there is still an old boys’ club” (Pamela, personal communication, October 11, 2012). Naming patriarchy specifically, Stacey observed, “Being a woman here is frustrating. Patriarchy – women not respected as they should be because they are women. They are seen as emotional, not strategic thinkers, not left-brained” (Neustaeter, 2015, p. 205). Strategic, left-brained thinking typically associated with men is prized and granted authority, while “emotional” traits associated with women are not. Women’s ideas and ways of being are not considered, granted respect, or given any authority in decisionmaking. To do so risks giving women decisionmaking influence and power, and risks challenging the gendered status quo. At the same time women may be hesitant to call out gender concerns or sexism, opting not to “make a stink about it” as Sonja expressed it, because of the common reality that in rural communities where everyone knows you or of you, to “make a stink” about gender could threaten your position and connections in the community and thus your peacebuilding efforts. In this way women and others challenging sexism or other issues of social justice, which challenge the status quo, are silenced, and are forced to act strategically mindful of the situated gender dynamics in order to foster change. To break through the old boys’ club and have one’s concerns and ideas heard women develop strategies, as Barbara shared with me in the following manner. Its more challenging to get attention and I have actually stooped to having a man front some issues because then they will be heard. So I’m not above that in getting things done. It is simply because the issues that I work on are not the sort of grabbing ideas that the powers that be will pay attention to. (Neustaeter, 2015, p. 205) Wendy recognized that, since the issues she works on focus on families, women, and children with special needs, she needs to be manipulative and strategic, which means strategically aligning herself with males who will stand up for her concerns. Other times she will be a chameleon, who blends into the local culture and uses her identity as a nurturer and bleedingheart with her outspoken personality to get away with saying something provocative (Wendy, personal communication, December 10, 2012). Through experience and knowing the local cultures women negotiate how to effectively get their concerns heard by decisionmakers and the public. Networking and collaboration, both among women and all allies, are crucial to overcoming challenges, gender barriers, and how women’s issues are silenced. Speaking to how the glass ceiling and old boys’ club can be challenged, Pamela expressed, I think banding together in grouping and organizing women’s groups and finding likeminded people. Of course there are men who are also open to creative ideas whether they come from a female or a male. And be willing to step out and support those causes. The only way is not being a lone voice in the wilderness but finding supportive people, and then I think you can go forward. (Pamela. personal communication, October 11, 2012) Significant to addressing barriers that silence or diminish women’s peacebuilding efforts is cooperation. Unfortunately, often times, cooperation is stifled by competition for attention, money, time, and power. As well, Belinda noted that women mentoring and being constructive role models for other, younger, local women peacebuilders is important to ensuring continuity in women’s community peacebuilding. 174

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We are always recreating, because we have not taken the real time to connect between the generations and so then we do not know what happened and then we start from scratch and we start from scratch. So I think there’s a real, that whole piece around, rather than us judging other women harshly there needs to be a way that we can be role models and mentors to each other, in a different way, a gentler way, or maybe a more deliberate way then what we have. (Belinda, personal communication, November 2, 2012) Building and nurturing networks, allies, and mentoring relationships can develop women’s peacebuilding knowledge and practice, while also creating a force for gender change and equity.

Conclusion Women’s community peacebuilding practices often reflect broader discourses of women as caregivers, and maternal and nurturing traits. Simultaneously, women’s local peace efforts exist within sociocultural contexts that inform and are informed by dynamic gender cultures. Exploring the situated nature of women’s peacebuilding can provide greater understanding to what women are doing and the significance of their peacebuilding within local contexts, including challenges, opportunities, and transformations. Looking more closely at the example of rural women’s peacebuilding in Manitoba, we see how gender culture informs women’s efforts, while at the same time acknowledging that these cultures are slowly changing and so offering opportunities for women to engage in new roles and spheres of community peacebuilding. Women’s community peacebuilding in the spheres of their lived experience pieces together a dynamic peace. Like a quilter pieces together squares of fabric into a meaningful and unique designs or patterns, so too do women’s everyday efforts for building peace come together to enhance individual, family, and community wellbeing, address social justice and community concerns.

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14 PROTESTING VULNERABILITY AND VULNERABILITY AS PROTEST Gender, migration, and strategies of resistance Lisa McLean As questions relating to migrant crises are of increasing concern globally, it is imperative to not only gain a greater understanding of the sources of insecurity and violence that fuel migration, but also how those most impacted by violence seek to resist oppression in their everyday lives. This chapter explores the gendered dynamics of displacement and resistance in the context of the unfolding humanitarian migrant crisis in Central America and Mexico. The frame of feminist vulnerability theorizing provides a prism through which to unpack the material and discursive structures of power that both drive people to leave their homes and that create the conditions that facilitate, and even at times justify, the exposure of migrants to extreme forms of violence as they cross borders. Feminist vulnerability theorizing provides a framework through which to critique the relations of power that differentially expose particular populations to harm. This perspective also suggests that the experience of vulnerability may act as a catalyst and as a location for resistance and solidarity. Migrants are not the sole actors affected by displacement; their families and communities are likewise deeply impacted by the violence and insecurity that produces the impetus to migrate. These family members are also emotionally burdened by the loss of those who die or go missing during the journey. This chapter also discusses vulnerability as protest as exemplified by the 2017 Mother’s Day marches for the families of the disappeared in Mexico and other examples of women mobilizing vulnerability to protest violence and forced displacement. These forms of gendered protest challenge the dehumanizing narratives of Otherness and threat that facilitate violence and impunity. Spaces of public mourning may also serve as a location from which political solidarities may be cultivated to articulate demands for dignity and justice.

Critical feminist theorizing of vulnerability Feminist theorizing of vulnerability combines attention to the structural sources of inequality and harm with particular attention to how these forces are physically and discursively mapped onto particular bodies and not onto others (Hesford & Lewis, 2016; Oliviero, 2016). 178

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This approach links structural critiques of the uneven distribution of resources and power with feminist analyses of the discursive and cultural forms that facilitate the marginalization of particular populations. This perspective offers an opportunity to engage in a deep analysis of the structures of power that contribute to displacement and the gendered and racialized meanings that facilitate the exposure of migrants to extreme forms of violence and degradation. This perspective also provides a point of departure for examining potential pathways for building a politics of solidarity to resist violence and oppression. Feminist theorists have used the concept of vulnerability to describe how harm and insecurity are differentially distributed, rendering particular populations more liable to experience suffering, insecurity, and death than others (Butler, 2004; Ettlinger, 2007; Fineman, 2008). Within the feminist literature on vulnerability, there are several related terms that describe the condition and differential distribution of being vulnerable. Corporeal vulnerability is linked to the precariousness of life, a universal reality that death and harm may come by accident or by design (Butler, 2010, p. 25; Gilson, 2014, p. 3). Precarity, however, refers to a “politically induced condition” (Butler, 2010, p. 25) in which particular populations are differentially exposed to violence and death through the uneven effects of structural and discursive relations of power. Precarity is fostered through the unequal distribution of material resources as well as through dominant discourses or frames that construct the lives of certain populations as less valuable than others, whose personhood is not recognized and whose suffering does not provoke moral outrage (Butler, 2010, p. 31; Ettlinger, 2007). This dual focus of precarity reflects a feminist analysis of oppression as arising from both structural and symbolic sources. Feminist analyses of vulnerability often center on the gendered relations of power that shape women’s experiences of vulnerability in order to shed light on the ways that material insecurities and inequalities are shaped by gendered norms, thus producing qualitatively different experiences of vulnerability among women and men (Jaggar, 2009). Recently, feminists have begun expanding upon these foundations by approaching the analysis of vulnerability from an intersectional feminist perspective (Oliviero, 2016), recognizing that exposure to vulnerability is mediated by the complex interaction between multiple relations of power including gender, race, class, nationality, and citizenship. Migration is a paradigmatic social issue to approach from this critical perspective as this lens provides a framework for understanding the multidimensional relations of power that foster the extreme structural and direct violence experienced by migrants as they attempt to cross borders. This perspective further provides a vantage point for theorizing possible locations for resistance, solidarity, and coalitional politics that may lend themselves to transformative social change. In addition to a feminist critique of power, vulnerability theorizing as conceived from a critical feminist perspective distinguishes itself from discourses of vulnerability that posit the condition as something to be avoided, or that characterize vulnerability as a feminized experience of powerlessness in relation to a masculinized assertion of strength. Instead, these theorists consider the potentially positive social effects of vulnerability as a reflection of interdependence and a basis for social engagement, empathy, and responsibility (Butler, 2010; Gilson, 2014). Vulnerability is fundamental to the human condition due to our attachments to one another, serving as an indicator of our inherent interdependence and highlighting how our subjectivities are shaped through interaction; processes that imply the possibility of loss and violence, but also of connection and love (Butler, 2004, p. 20; Gilson, 2014, p. 4). Being vulnerable relates as much to the ability to harm and be harmed by others – corporeally and emotionally – as it does to other affective and social experiences of vulnerability including empathy, understanding, and mutual learning (Gilson, 2014, p. 2). From this perspective, vulnerability is not something to be avoided or overcome, but rather may be a point of departure for the development of solidarities in resistance to those forces that generate precarity and oppression. 179

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This final point is key for the significance of this perspective, as it highlights how feeling vulnerable may lead to the development of a political consciousness and how the recognition of shared vulnerabilities, and their differences, may contribute to the creation of an ethics of responsibility and a site for political coalition-building. Oliviero explains that this critical approach to vulnerability theorizing is strongly influenced by queer and women-of-color feminisms that argue that the experience of marginalization can be the basis for coalitional politics by “generating a sense of intersocial responsibility through and across differences” (2016, p. 8). The personal physical and emotional consequences of precarity, of pain and loss, represent powerful sites for the emergence of a collective politics of resistance. This theoretical approach reflects a profoundly feminist take on both the analysis of injustice and oppression, and insight into potential pathways to transformative social change. This chapter explores how the extreme precarity experienced among Central American migrants in transit through Mexico arises from both structural and discursive relations of power, and how these experiences of precarity are further structured by gender, race, and nationality. This analysis is concluded with a discussion of how the mothers of missing migrants are mobilizing vulnerability alongside the family members of other disappeared persons in Mexico through public acts of grieving and protest. These protests arise out of the personal lived experiences of precarity and loss among the mothers and spouses of those who are disappeared as a result of the systemic violence, corruption, and impunity that plagues the region. The “frictions” (Tsing, 2005) that arise from these gendered practices of resistance exemplify on the one hand the ways that resistance is bounded by power, while on the other, how these practices may create spaces for new possibilities and solidarities to emerge.

Central American migrants – vulnerability in transit Mexico is uniquely positioned in analyses of migration, as it is a source country of asylum seekers and economic migrants as well as a country of transit for hundreds of thousands of Central American migrants annually. The UNHCR (2017) estimates as many as 500,000 people enter the southern border of Mexico illicitly each year. Many of those crossing through Mexico originate from the Northern Triangle of Central America (NTCA), encompassing the countries of El Salvador, Guatemala, and Honduras, which have among the highest rates of homicide in the world along with some of the highest rates of gendered violence globally (MSF, 2017; UNHCR, 2015). Despite fleeing from violence and lack of economic opportunity in their home countries, migrants face significant threats of violence and harm while in transit in Mexico. Attention to the effects of neoliberal ideology and globalization are among the central concerns of theorists of vulnerability and feminist analyses of migration as they describe the structural conditions that foster the unequal global distribution of precarity that leads to displacement. In the unfolding migrant crisis in Central America, the demand for low-waged labor in the United States (US) is occurring within the context of neoliberal economic restructuring in a region that has failed to address the social and economic legacy of brutal civil wars and rampant statesanctioned violence of the 1970s–1990s (Green, 2011; International Crisis Group, 2017). The ongoing extreme economic insecurity in the NTCA is reflected in poverty rates of between 10 and 30 percent in the region (International Crisis Group, 2017, pp. 3–4). The dismantling of local practices of subsistence and economic stability through neoliberal structural adjustment programs leads to a coercive form of migration, or “compulsive displacement,” in which economically vulnerable populations are forced to migrate in order to find work and support their families (Delgado-Wise, 2014, p. 651). 180

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Studies have indicated that the decision to migrate among Central Americans is largely related to concerns about economic insecurity as well as the widespread existence of everyday violence, threats, and extortion in their home countries. Half of the NTCA migrants interviewed by Medecins Sans Frontières (2017) in 2015 reported violence as one of the main reasons they fled their homes (p. 10). The presence of extreme levels of gang violence in the NTCA is related to legacies of war and violence, as well as widespread and severe economic insecurity and corruption. These issues were compounded in the 1990s by the mass deportation of NTCA nationals, including large numbers of gang members, from the US during an immigration crackdown (International Crisis Group, 2017; Vogt, 2013). These broad physical and economic insecurities within the NTCA are also unevenly experienced, as high rates of domestic and sexual violence led to the forced displacement of women and girls (International Crisis Group, 2017, p. 18), while Indigenous and transgender women face a particularly heightened risk of violence and discrimination in their home countries (UNHCR, 2015). These findings demonstrate how economic and physical insecurities are often intertwined, and how these vulnerabilities are further structured by gender and race. While many migrants are fleeing violence in their home countries, they are similarly met with extreme forms of violence and threat while transiting through Mexico. Migrants are regularly robbed, kidnapped, held for ransom, assaulted, and sometimes murdered as they travel through Mexico (MSF, 2017; UNHCR, 2015). Though estimates vary, reports have suggested that anywhere between one-third (MSF, 2017, p. 12) and more than two-thirds (Amnesty International, 2010) of migrant women transiting through Mexico are sexually assaulted during their journey. The violence experienced by migrants while in transit in Mexico is a symptom of broad issues of systemic violence, impunity, and corruption that have gripped the country since the beginning of Mexico’s US-supported “War on Drugs” in 2006. While violence and displacement arise partly from structural forces, migrant exposure to precarity in border areas is facilitated and justified by the symbolic and discursive construction of the threatening migrant Other. Frames of Otherness defined through “axes of difference” including categories of gender, race, and citizenship (Ettlinger, 2007, p. 322) provide the symbolic conditioning that facilitate the exploitation of migrant labor while justifying militarization and the widespread suffering of migrants as they cross borders. The framing of Central American and Mexican migrants as threatening has permeated the discourse surrounding immigration and border control in the US. This discourse of threat overshadows declarations made by international organizations describing the situation in Central America and Mexico as a refugee crisis (UNHCR, 2015), resulting in a militarized rather than humanitarian response to the situation. Critical migration literature draws heavily upon the concept of biopolitics (Foucault, 1990) to describe how migrant precarity is produced in part through the discursive construction of belonging and Otherness that underwrite notions of citizenship and border controls. Immigration and border control regimes function to support the biopolitical control of populations as they facilitate the classification of people and the regulation of movement across territory for the ostensible purpose of the “protection” of the population from threatening elements. These forms of social control operate through cultural frames that facilitate the categorization of persons as citizens or as “illegal Others,” leaving those marked as illegal vulnerable to punitive sanctions, arrest, and deportation (De Genova, 2010; Fassin, 2011). While migrants may be socially excluded through frames of “illegality,” it is their very vulnerability to arrest and deportation that fosters the demand for their precarious, cheap, and ultimately disposable labor (De Genova, 2010, p. 38; Green, 2011). Feminist vulnerability theories build upon these critical foundations in order to demonstrate how the discursive construction of the illegal Other is embedded in gendered and 181

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racialized terms. National security discourses about migration in the US frequently frame migrant men as potential violent criminals and gang members who threaten the nation and its citizens (Oliviero, 2011). This tactic is most recognizable in US President Donald Trump’s infamous remarks describing migrants and asylum seekers attempting to cross the southern US border as rapists and criminals (Ross, 2016). Discourses of Otherness operate to frame migrant women’s biological reproduction as threatening to the national identity, thus positioning migrant women-of-color as the symbolic and biological bearers of an invading, inassimilable Other (Chavez, 2007), known within anti-immigrant discourses in the US about anchor babies. The discursive framings of migrant men and women as threatening are indicative of a racialized politics of reproduction that positions white Americans as the legitimate bearers of the national identity and the racialized Other as an invading threat (Chavez, 2007; Oliviero, 2011). These discursive constructions have important material and social consequences as they justify the increased surveillance, control, and repression of migrant populations, while simultaneously fostering the circumstances in which their labor may be exploited and their ability to avail themselves of legal protection is severely constrained. The discursive frames of migrant Otherness and threat also function to limit the ability to apprehend the suffering of migrants as they cross borders. The dehumanization of migrant populations can be seen in the normalization of the untold number of migrant deaths and disappearances that occur each year at the US–Mexico border and throughout the migrant route in Mexico. Security initiatives undertaken by the US and Mexico in recent years function to increase the exposure of migrants to violence and insecurity through the militarization of borders and the territory of Mexico in an attempt to stem the northward flow of migrants (De Leon, 2015; Green, 2011; International Crisis Group, 2016).1 These initiatives have resulted in increased raids, detention, and deportation from within Mexico. Migrants are channeled into dangerous territory including deserts and areas occupied by criminal gangs in order to evade the scrutiny of Mexican officials who have themselves been implicated in the abuse and kidnapping of migrants (De Leon, 2015; IACHR, 2015, pp. 127–30). The criminalization of migrants and militarization of traditional migrant routes greatly increases the vulnerability of migrants to abuse and exploitation by organized criminal groups who now count migrants as one of their main sources of income through robbery, kidnapping, human trafficking, and extortion (IACHR, 2015, p. 44). The policies of militarization and deportation taken by the US and Mexican governments have the intentional effect of exacerbating the risk of death and injury experienced by migrants as they transit through Mexico and across borders, with the assumption that these risks will deter potential future migrants from attempting the journey (De Leon, 2015). These policies of “prevention through deterrence” (De Leon, 2015; Green, 2011) fail to acknowledge the real threats that migrants are facing in their home countries that compel them to attempt the dangerous journey north. Discourses of the threat posed by migrants justify these militarized policies as an attempt to protect the US nation and its citizens, worsening the unfolding humanitarian crisis in the process. The personhood of Central American migrants is devalued by notions of Otherness and threat to the point that their suffering may be seen but not recognized, absolving governments from their responsibility in contributing to migrant precarity.

Vulnerability as protest and protesting vulnerability On May 10, 2017, Mother’s Day in Mexico, thousands of women marched in Mexico City and across the country demanding justice and the return of their family members who have

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gone missing or have been forcibly disappeared.2 The women carried photos of their family members along with their names, the dates that they disappeared, and contact information for those who may have seen their children or spouses. In their signs and speeches, the protesters demanded the return of their loved ones, and dignity and justice for their families. They also denounced the violence, indifference, and impunity that has marked their experiences and impeded their access to justice. This annual march of the mothers of the disappeared is organized in response to the crisis of violence, corruption, and impunity in Mexico that has led to some 30,000 people being reported missing between 2006 and 2016 and close to 900 clandestine graves that have been found throughout the country (CNDH México, 2017).3 Disappearances at the hands of both organized crime and corrupt state authorities impact Mexican society broadly. The disappeared include Mexican citizens, migrants-in-transit, men, women, Indigenous peoples, and human rights defenders. Many victims of disappearance share a background of poverty; a situation which is worsened within families by the disappearance of a breadwinner (IACHR, 2015, pp. 64, 73). As with other crimes committed in Mexico, these disappearances are met with extremely high levels of impunity (IACHR, 2015, p. 64).4 Reflecting the many victims of this type of violence, the Mother’s Day march included individuals and organizations of families from across Mexico, groups representing missing Central American migrants, and representatives of the mothers and fathers of the 43 students forcibly disappeared from Ayotzinapa in the state of Guerrero, Mexico in 2014.5 Due to a lack of will or capacity on the part of the government, as well as the collusion of local officials in some of these cases, families have had to take on the difficult task of searching for the missing, uncovering unmarked mass graves, and identifying the deceased. Alongside their Mexican counterparts, the mothers of missing Central American migrants have also been forced to take on the identity of investigators and activists by participating in annual caravans that travel along the migrant route in Mexico to search for their family members and denounce the violence that has gripped the region.6 Through these marches and caravans, the mothers of the missing express their pain and anger in a public forum while actively searching for their loved ones and seeking justice for their disappearances. Publicly mourning the lives lost to violence and forced disappearance is a form of mobilizing vulnerability as resistance (Butler 2015, p. 125) by challenging the cultural narratives that dehumanize migrants and other populations who are disproportionately exposed to insecurity and extreme violence. The visibility of the family members in their grief and outrage challenges the erasure of their missing loved ones, and the violence done to them by naming both the victims of the disappearances and the conditions that allow this violence to persist. These practices of protest and commemoration also provide an avenue for building political solidarities between groups whose individual experiences may differ, yet who share the experience of terror as it is practiced through forced disappearance and violence. When those deemed disposable gather publicly to protest the conditions that give rise to their precarity, they are denying the erasure of themselves and challenging the dehumanizing frames of Otherness that facilitate abuse and oppression (Butler, 2015, p. 152). When the family members and allies of the disappeared gather publicly to mourn or search for their loved ones, they engage in a process of disrupting the cultural frames that position migrants and others targeted with disappearance as “ungrievable” (Butler, 2004). As described by Wright (2017), the lack of agreed-upon statistics of the disappeared signals their perceived ungrievability in the eyes of the government as “the corpses and disappeared people are not counted because they do not count as people much less as victims” (p. 263). The act of publicly mourning the disappeared

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and uncounted is a way of “affirming that life has been lived and violently lost” (Stierl, 2016, p. 184), positioning the disappeared in the eyes of the mourners’ audience as “subjects who matter, ‘like us’” (Tyler & Marciniak, 2013, p. 152). Women in a variety of contexts globally have used public mourning to make visible the forms of injustice and violence that have been visited upon themselves, their families, and their communities. Not coincidentally, this genre of resistance is often publicly performed by women, reflecting the “gendered division of labor in the work of mourning” (Das, 2007, p. 193) and the gendered frames that position both caring work and the experience of vulnerability as feminized conditions. The “reverberations” (Scott, 2002) of these politicized gendered performances can be seen in the tactics of diverse women’s movements including the Women in Black and various collectives and strategies of mother-activism around the world. One famous example of this type of gendered activism is the movement of Las Madres de Plaza de Mayo in Argentina who utilized notions of motherhood, bound up with loss and grieving, to develop solidarity and to carve out safer spaces for women’s public protests against forced disappearances (Navarro, 2001). These movements utilize vigils, marches, and other public acts of mourning and commemoration in order to challenge the silences and denials that facilitate violence. The protests by the mothers of the disappeared link the affective dimensions of loss and grief with acts of resistance by publicly denouncing the violence that has occurred and those who are responsible either through direct actions or through indifference and corruption. One of the common refrains among mothers searching for the disappeared in Mexico is “You took them alive, we want them alive!” (¡Vivos se los llevaron, vivos los queremos!), a demand which recalls the struggles of many women-led movements across Latin America against the terror of forced disappearance (Wright, 2017, p. 251). This demand asserts the personhood of their family members and the reality of a crime committed despite official denials and indifference. Their demands for dignity and recognition raise the broad issues of systemic violence, impunity, and corruption that implicate both criminal groups and state authorities in the violence that has gripped the country and has been felt intimately among the families of the disappeared and deceased. While the family members of migrants and of disappeared Mexican citizens face distinct challenges, their shared experiences of loss furnish the possibility of creating coalitions across difference. Through personal loss, these groups are brought into conversation about the conditions that allow the lives of themselves and their family members to be rendered precarious. These forms of activism, organized around notions of motherhood and grieving, exist in an uneasy gendered space. Referencing the international Women in Black movement, feminist theorist Joan Scott (2002) argues that it signifies a “paradoxical agency” (p. 17). While the women stand in defiance to political violence and repression, and indeed represent a direct challenge to violent regimes and impunity, they also draw upon essentialized notions of the peaceful, nurturing, and mournful mother to frame their activist work (Scott, 2002, pp. 19–20). Rather than locating their resistance to oppression in their identities as political actors, the women in these movements instead foreground motherhood as the tie that unites them and that lends legitimacy to their struggle (Wright, 2005). While this framing may assist these movements in legitimizing their political activities in the eyes of their intended audience, Scott (2002) argues that it is a paradoxical move as it ties this legitimacy to notions of domesticity. These strategies may unintentionally serve to shore up the same patriarchal ideologies that seek to limit women’s access to public spaces and that are used to justify violence against women who transgress this norm (Wright, 2005). These analyses highlight how the strategies taken by women protesting violence involve navigating webs of power, which may foster opportunities for social change on the one hand, but which are also constrained by other hegemonic gendered power structures on the other. 184

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Despite these critiques, attention to the spaces of “friction” (Tsing, 2005) between power and agency provides important insight into the operation of power and the disruptions that may contribute to altering the social relations that produce violence and oppression. While forms of mother-activism have been critiqued for resting upon essentialized notions of femininity, other theorists have argued that these critiques fail to reflect the multiple and contingent ways that motherhood and activism are understood within the local context and by the women engaged in these protests themselves (Borland & Sutton, 2007; Stephen, 2001). In her analysis of the experiences of a group of Honduran mothers who travelled in a caravan through Mexico to search for their missing family members, Amarela Varela Huerta (2013) found that the process of joining the caravan served as an act of collective disobedience, which transformed the mothers into political actors and human rights defenders. By leaving their homes and joining other women in telling their lost children’s stories at various stops along the caravan route, the women engaged in a process of denormalizing the patriarchal and state violence that forced their children to flee and that the women themselves are confronted with daily (Varela Huerta, 2013, p. 184). Their protests arise from personal pain and loss, yet the actions taken by these women including crossing territory, searching in prisons, shelters, and morgues, and publicly demanding the return of their loved ones, are deeply political and transgressive (Varela Huerta, 2013). These theorists argue that the mobilization of vulnerability practiced by these women fosters a space for contestation, building solidarity among women, and reimagining gendered identities and hierarchies, thus problematizing the relations of power that structure everyday life. It is important to understand the paradoxical nature of resistance in order to appreciate how resistance both arises from and is constrained by power (Abu-Lughod, 1990). As a gendered practice, public mourning as resistance draws from certain normative frameworks of femininity and motherhood. At the same time, these acts of reclamation that make violence and injustice visible may also serve to rupture frames of domesticity and femininity, “giv[ing] rise to consequences that are not always foreseen, making room for ways of living gender that challenge prevailing norms of recognition” (Butler, 2015, p. 32). The “friction” fostered through these uneasy negotiations may be “the fly in the elephant’s nose” (Tsing, 2005, p. 6) that slowly breaks the frames that produce violence, allowing for new possibilities and solidarities to emerge.

Conclusion The incredible suffering and precariousness of life experienced by migrants and other persons targeted with violence, displacement, and disappearance arises from both structural and discursive relations of power. Feminist vulnerability theorizing is an approach attuned to mapping the ways in which exposure to harm and insecurity is differently distributed among populations based on the (mis)allocation of power and resources, and the cultural frames that limit the perceived “grievability” (Butler, 2004) of particular groups. As well as lending complexity to the analysis of the relations of power that produce migrant precarity, a feminist vulnerability perspective also suggests a point of departure for possible locations for resistance to oppression. By challenging the logic that vulnerability is solely a negative condition which must be avoided, this perspective allows for thinking “vulnerability and agency together” (Butler, 2015, p. 139), and how the lived experience of being vulnerable can be a powerful site for building political communities of resistance. The Mother’s Day marches in Mexico and other examples of women mobilizing vulnerability as protest, including the caravans of mothers of disappeared migrants, highlight how 185

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the experience of vulnerability and loss can be translated into political action. These forms of gendered protest arise out of a long history of women-led movements against violence and forced disappearance. Feminist theorists note that gendered forms of activism, including the genre of mother-activism, arise in resistance to relations of power that produce precarity, while simultaneously drawing from normative gendered frameworks in order to speak in a register that will be heard by their intended audience. While modes of resistance may be shaped and bounded by power, these spaces of friction and contestation can produce unpredictable results that may give way to new possibilities and opportunities for solidarity. Attention to the disruptions afforded by women’s resistance to precarity provides important insight into the complexity of the operation of power and potential pathways to altering oppressive social relations.

Notes 1 These programs include Mexico’s Plan Frontera Sur and the US-sponsored Merida Initiative. They were strongly critiqued by civil society organizations because they increased the vulnerability of migrants in transit while not responding to the root causes of displacement (Haugaard et al., 2015). 2 Melissa Wright (2017) defines forced disappearance as an act “to be forced, either directly or indirectly by state agents, to be absent from social, political and economic life” noting that “forced disappearance is a favorite tool of states that govern through terror as it spreads fear that anyone, at any time, can be taken away by agents who then have the power to cover up all traces of the crime” (p. 252). State agents and organized criminal groups are both responsible for forced disappearances in Mexico. 3 Disappearance statistics in Mexico vary significantly due to inadequate tracking and data-sharing mechanisms; evidence suggests that disappearances are “of an enormous scale” (IACHR, 2015, p. 66). 4 The Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR) found that impunity rates are upwards of 98 percent for all crimes committed in Mexico and that only six convictions for forced disappearance have been handed down since 1977 despite the alarming numbers of reports (IACHR, 2015, pp. 46, 69–70). 5 The IACHR noted the forced disappearance of 43 students from a rural teachers’ college in Guerrero represented “an emblematic example of the apparent collusion between agents of the State and members of organized crime” (IACHR, 2015, p. 13). 6 These annual caravans are organized through the collective, Movimiento Migrante Mesoamericano, https://movimientomigrantemesoamericano.org.

References Abu-Lughod, L. (1990). The romance of resistance: Tracing transformations of power through Bedouin women. American Ethnologist, 17(1), 41–55. Amnesty International (2010). Invisible Victims: Migrants on the Move in Mexico. London: Amnesty International. Borland, E., & Sutton, B. (2007). Quotidian disruption and women’s activism in times of crisis, Argentina 2002–2003. Gender and Society, 21(5), 700–22. Butler, J. (2004). Precarious Life. New York: Verso. Butler, J. (2010). Frames of War. New York: Verso. Butler, J. (2015). Notes toward a Performative Theory of Assembly. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Chavez, L. R. (2007). A glass half empty: Latina reproduction and public discourse. In D. A. Segura & P. Zavella (Eds.), Women and Migration in the U.S.–Mexico Borderlands (pp. 67–91). Durham, NC: Duke University Press. CNDH México (2017). Informe especial de la Comisión Nacional de los Derechos Humanos sobre desaparición de personas y fosas clandestinas en México. Mexico City: Comisión Nacional de los Derechos Humanos. www.cndh.org.mx/sites/all/doc/Informes/Especiales/InformeEspecial_20170406.pdf Das, V. (2007). Life and Words. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.

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Protesting vulnerability De Genova, N. (2010). The deportation regime: Sovereignty, space, and the freedom of movement. In N. De Genova & N. Peutz (Eds.), The Deportation Regime: Sovereignty, Space, and the Freedom of Movement (pp. 33–66). Durham, NC: Duke University Press. De Leon, J. (2015). The Land of Open Graves: Living and Dying on the Migrant Trail. Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press. Delgado-Wise, R. (2014). A critical overview of migration and development: The Latin American challenge. Annual Review of Sociology, 40(1), 643–63. Ettlinger, N. (2007). Precarity unbound. Alternatives, 32(3), 319–40. Fassin, D. (2011). Policing borders, producing boundaries. The governmentality of immigration in dark times. Annual Review of Anthropology, 40(1), 213–26. Fineman, M. A. (2008). The vulnerable subject: Anchoring equality in the human condition. Yale Journal of Law and Feminism, 20(1), 8–40. Foucault, M. (1990). The History of Sexuality, vol. 1. New York: Vintage Books. Gilson, E. C. (2014). The Ethics of Vulnerability: A Feminist Analysis of Social Life and Practice. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Green, L. (2011). The nobodies: Neoliberalism, violence, and migration. Medical Anthropology, 30(4), 366–85. Haugaard, L., Johnson, J., & Buckhout, E. (2015). A challenging moment for the protection of migrant rights and human rights in the northern triangle of Central America and across the migrant route. Latin America Working Group Education Fund, July. Hesford, W. S., & Lewis, R. A. (2016). Introduction to mobilizing vulnerability: New directions in transnational feminist studies and human rights. Feminist Formations, 28(1), pp. vii–xviii. IACHR (2015). The Human Rights Situation in Mexico (Country Report Mexico No. OEA/Ser.L.V/ II.Doc. 44/15). Washington, DC: Inter-American Commission on Human Rights. www.oas.org/en/ iachr/reports/pdfs/Mexico2016-en.pdf International Crisis Group (2016). Easy Prey: Criminal Violence and Central American Migration (Latin America Report No. 57). Brussels, Belgium: International Crisis Group. https://d2071andvip0wj.cloudfront. net/057-easy-prey-criminal-violence-and-central-american-migration.pdf International Crisis Group (2017). Mafia of the Poor: Gang Violence and Extortion in Central America (Latin America and Caribbean No. 62). Brussels, Belgium: International Crisis Group. www.crisisgroup. org/latin-america-caribbean/central-america/62-mafia-poor-gang-violence-and-extortion-centralamerica Jaggar, A. M. (2009). Transnational cycles of gendered vulnerability: A prologue to a theory of global gender justice. Philosophical Topics, 37(2), 33–52. Medecins Sans Frontières. (2017). Forced to flee Central America’s northern triangle: A neglected humanitarian crisis. Paris, France: Medecins Sans Frontières. www.doctorswithoutborders.org/sites/ usa/files/msf_forced-to-flee-central-americas-northern-triangle.pdf Navarro, M. (2001). The personal is political: Las Madres de Plaza de Mayo. In S. Eckstein (Ed.), Power and Popular Protest: Latin American Social Movements (pp. 241–58). Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Oliviero, K. E. (2011). Sensational nation and the Minutemen: Gendered citizenship and moral vulnerabilities. Signs, 36(3), 679–706. Oliviero, K. E. (2016). Vulnerability’s ambivalent political life: Trayvon Martin and the racialized and gendered politics of protection. Feminist Formations, 28(1), 1–32. Ross, J. (2016). From Mexican rapists to bad hombres, the Trump campaign in two moments. Washington Post, Oct. 20. www.washingtonpost.com/news/the-fix/wp/2016/10/20/from-mexicanrapists-to-bad-hombres-the-trump-campaign-in-two-moments/ Scott, J. W. (2002). Feminist reverberations. Differences, 13(3), 1–23. Stephen, L. (2001). Gender, citizenship, and the politics of identity. Latin American Perspectives, 28(6), 54–69. Stierl, M. (2016). Contestations in death – the role of grief in migration struggles. Citizenship Studies, 20(2), 173–91. Tsing, A. L. (2005). Friction: An Ethnography of Global Connection. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Tyler, I. & Marciniak, K. (2013). Immigrant protest: An introduction. Citizenship Studies, 17(2), 143–56. UNHCR (2015). Women on the Run: First Hand Accounts of Refugees Fleeing El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, and Mexico. Washington, DC: UNHCR. www.unhcr.org/5630f24c6.html

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15 MISSING DISCOURSES Recognizing disability and LGBTQ+ communities in conflict transformation Rebecca Shea Irvine and Nancy Hansen Despite war and violence being a fact of life throughout human history, we still have a great deal to learn about building sustainable peace. Considering that war destroys life, health, law and order, livelihoods, and the economy (Baker, 2006, p.31), the process of conflict transformation offers the opportunity to “build back better” (Miles, 2013). However, the often weak and inexperienced post-conflict government must successfully navigate the timing and sequencing of policy decisions in an environment that is deeply divided and undergoing significant transitions (Jeong, 2002). The legacy of conflict may include poverty and the destruction of social dynamics and political structures, but it can also provide unprecedented opportunity for change (Collier et al., 2003), change which may include opportunities to challenge traditional views of disability, gender, and sexuality, which had previously reinforced practices of exclusion. The evidence shows us that there are often substantial changes taking place in times of conflict transformation but we do not always consider how the voices of groups that are not overtly associated with peace and conflict are shaping the redevelopment of state and society (Mizzi & Byrne, 2015, p. 359). John Paul Lederach (1997) proposes a concept of conflict transition that argues the need for considering the complexities of “identity” by going beyond the majority and minority identities usually associated with the cause of the violence. Despite this, however, the process of conflict transformation has often failed to recognize the voices not traditionally associated with the cause or continuation of the political violence. This view for broadening the voices included within the conflict transformation process is widely reflected in the work of other scholars as well. Marc Howard Ross (2004, p. 26) claims: One step to inclusiveness is building wider identification with the community in general, and the state in particular, so that redistribution of resources and policy innovation are experienced as widely beneficial and not merely as the provision of selective benefits to certain groups. Of course, this is hardly achievable overnight and often involves a race between rising expectations and the capacity of local institutions. Similarly, John Nagle (2016) argues that the integration of non-sectarian social movements needs to be considered in any analysis of peace and conflict and that “sustainable peacebuilding 189

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occurs when a wide range of groups and identities are incorporated into the project” (p. 4). Nagle (2016) suggests that how “out-groups,” or those outside of the main ethnic movements, are treated holds the key to evaluating the efficacy of the government and highlights the need for activists to “forge a sense of collective identity” in order to best hold the government accountable (p. 140). Forming a collective identity has often proven challenging in social movements, however, as the complexities of intersectionality and multiple identities make speaking with a unified voice difficult. This chapter recognizes the role that marginalized communities can have in building a more inclusive post-conflict society. Using Lederach’s (1997) conflict transformation framework, it focuses predominately on the experiences of the LGBTQ+ (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender/Transexual, Queer) and Disability Rights Movements in countries transitioning out of conflict and how the post-conflict policy agendas have acknowledged the involvement of these groups in building more inclusive societies.

Lederach’s framework of conflict transformation Lederach (1997) proposes an understanding of conflict transformation with relation to how exposure to conflict creates change across four dimensions – personal, relational, structural, and cultural. He suggests that transformation refers to changes in communication and interaction, more specifically, “how people perceive themselves, one another, and the conflict itself” (Lederach, 1997, p. 82). The conflict transformation framework encourages the view that conflict presents opportunities and that it should focus on increasing justice and reducing violence (Lederach, 2003, p. 22). It also claims that “hearing and engaging the struggling, sometimes, lost, voices of identity” is essential in the process (Lederach, 2003, p. 55), an idea similar to that suggested by Michael Pugh (1995) in which he claimed that the “benefits of peacebuilding should be distributed unequally to assist the most vulnerable sections of society” (p. 24). Lederach (1997) also suggests that a pyramid framework may be helpful for considering leadership in conflict-affected areas. The pyramid structure begins with a base rooted in grassroots leadership, which tends to focus on the day-to-day aspects of life and survival. It is comprised of local leaders and community developers, and is particularly important for considering the realization of social inclusion. It is where community change is most likely to be realized and members of marginalized groups brought into community development and peacebuilding projects. Middle-range leadership includes respected leaders of particular groups such as members of the disability rights movement, victims’ groups, Indigenous people, ex-combatants, LGBTQ+, etc., along with academics and humanitarian organization representatives. Representatives from this group are viewed as experts on a particular aspect of society and can play an important role in lobbying and campaigning for increased recognition of their interest group in the redevelopment of state and society. Like Lederach (1997, 2003), Ross (2004), and Nagle (2016), Fitzduff and Church (2004) highlight the importance of including multiple voices in the process of conflict transformation. Focusing on the involvement of non-governmental organizations (NGOs) in policy development, they argue, NGOs can bring contextually relevant, locally sourced knowledge to the policy table, which is a necessary dimension to successful policymaking in divided and violent societies. Such interaction expands the democratic scope of the decision-making process by making it more representative and inclusive, thus increasing its chances of success. Policymakers often find it difficult to access and address local needs and conditions 190

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unless these are garnered for them in an identifiable vehicle, with the accompanying pressure to take such perspectives seriously. (Fitzduff & Church, 2004, pp. 13–14) Finally, at the tip of the pyramid, top leadership includes those leaders that are highly visible such as military, political, or religious leaders. It is comprised of key decisionmakers that are instrumental in developing policies and legislation, and ensuring that social, political, and economic priorities are kept in balance to achieve and sustain peace. If the post-conflict government is to demonstrate its leadership and unite a divided society, it needs to introduce “just and transparent political, social, and economic systems that are inclusive and participatory” (Colletta & Cullen, 2000, p. 91). A nation emerging from conflict is fragile and needs to consider the best approaches to building social and economic capital among its citizens to make the necessary investments to achieve peace and stability. Addressing historic inequalities requires a sustained effort that runs beyond a single election cycle and needs a firm commitment from the government and international community to challenge “structurally ingrained forms of deprivation” (Langer et al., 2012, p. 9). In addition to a long-term policy plan, the development of a sustainable peace also requires the commitment of dedicated resources that need to be monitored and adjusted to ensure that they are being used effectively and efficiently (Lederach, 1997, 2003). Conflict transformation provides a “set of lens for describing how conflict emerges from, evolves within, and brings about changes in the personal, relational, structural, and cultural dimensions” (Lederach, 1997, p. 83). It also allows for the consideration of the types of leadership that are required for bringing about conflict transformation at different levels, including in the local community, identity-based community groups, and within governments. The remaining sections of the chapter consider how this framework may be applied to the experiences of the disability rights and LGBTQ+ movements in countries emerging from conflict.

Preferred conceptualizations of “disability” and “LGBTQ+” The preferred conceptualization of “disability” is drawn from the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (CRPD). The CRPD indicates that “disability is an evolving concept and that disability results from the interaction between persons with impairments and attitudinal and environmental barriers” (CRPD, 2006, Preamble). It also recognizes that, “persons with disabilities include those who have long-term physical, mental, intellectual, or sensory impairments which in interaction with various barriers may hinder their full and effective participation in society on an equal basis with others” (CRPD, 2006, Article 1). It should also be noted that the terms “disabled people” and “people with disabilities” are used interchangeably in this chapter to reflect the differences of preference within the disability rights community. Many different terms are used to represent the LBGTQ+ community, however, we have chosen to use this representation, as we believe by using the + to represent all other identities related to sexual orientation, which may include, but are not limited to, questioning, intersex, and others who do not identify as heterosexual, it is the most inclusive. It should also be noted that this acronym is primarily a construct of the global North and different terms may be preferred in communities located in the global South (Hagen, 2016). The majority of the authors cited in this chapter have chosen to use LGBT or LGBTQ and there may be variations within the citations. The term “sexual minorities” is also used to represent anyone that is not heterosexual. 191

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Recognizing voices not traditionally associated with peacebuilding: Why LGBTQ+ and disability? There are similarities and differences related to the disability rights and LGBTQ+ movements being recognized as part of the conflict transformation process. Social movements, according to Della Porta and Diani (2006), engage with opponents with conflicting ideas, “dense informal networks” link them, and they have a shared identity (p. 20). The following section focuses on aspects of commonality and differences between the disability rights and LGBTQ+ movements with regards to social movement theory and the promotion of citizenship. A social movement dedicated to the advancement of rights for people with a disability or sexual minorities can usually address Della Porta and Diani’s (2006) first two criteria easily by challenging traditional ways of thinking about disability or sexuality and linking a network of organizations with a common goal. However, the third criterion is frequently a challenge. The disability movement aims to include people with physical, sensory, intellectual, and psychosocial disabilities, yet the inclusion of so many people with differing needs can make it difficult to form a common identity. In most disability movements, the emphasis is on the involvement of people with physical and sensory disabilities, meaning people with intellectual disabilities and mental illnesses have been under-represented. In his book exploring the global Disability Rights Movement (DRM), James Charlton (1998) argues that “the failure of most people with disabilities to identify with other people with disabilities is, I believe, the principal contradiction that limits the DRM’s potential influence and power” (p. 78). In countries emerging from conflict, the question of whether injured veterans and/or victims are part of the disability identity or a separate group poses an additional challenge. Likewise, the LGBTQ+ movement struggles with inclusivity and ensuring that it speaks with a unified voice. The expanding recognition of non-heteronormative identities can create challenges for ensuring that voices are recognized both within the movement and outside of it. Despite its challenges, the LGBTQ+ movement has been an important voice in promoting the common interests of its members beyond national borders and supporting activists working towards constitutional change to recognize the rights of sexual minorities. This form of activism can experience particularly strong opposition in deeply divided societies, where sex may have been used as a mechanism of control during the conflict and “sexual minorities are often seen as anomalous, polluters and threats to the perceived purity of the ethnic group” (Nagle, 2016, p. 140). In response to the seemingly incompatible differences between the rights of sexual minorities and peace and conflict studies (PACS), Mizzi and Byrne’s (2015) consideration of the interconnectedness of queer theory and PACS provides an excellent foundation by arguing that both approaches aim to address historic injustices and promote equity through “reshaping and reforming perceptions of identity, power, and knowledge according to social contract” (p. 366). Citizenship is another important issue that often faces people with disabilities and sexual minorities differently from the general public. Citizenship is about how people are “defined and shaped by authority” but also about how people “understand themselves and make claims, demand protection, communicate, and seek information” (Ingstad & Whyte, 2007, p. 21). It is this notion of modern citizenship, rooted in human rights and democracy (Faulks, 2000) that enables participation within society and forms a critical part of the conflict transformation process. It is also critical to challenging the traditional views and practices that have historically marginalized people deemed “other.” It is now estimated that 15 percent of the global population, or over one billion people, live with some form of disability, with the percentage continuing to increase as a result of people living longer, advances in medical treatments, and the presence of large-scale terrorism 192

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and modern warfare (WHO, 2011). During times of conflict, those directly involved both as combatants and civilians may experience killings, property destruction, malnutrition, forced displacement, intimidation methods including amputation of limbs and disfigurement of body, and rape (Irvine, 2015b). These experiences are likely to increase the number of people that have disabilities in the post-conflict environment (Irvine, 2015a). Yet despite their large numbers, people with disabilities are frequently denied citizenship on an equal basis with others. Meekosa and Dowse (1997) argue that the continued focus on the “needs and costs of the provision of services” for disabled people rather than on their rights and contributions to society “remains a major hurdle in the liberation of people with disabilities” (p. 64). Citizenship rights are also contested among members of the LGBTQ+ community, as citizenship is traditionally viewed in heteronormative ways, which reinforce gender stereotypes and presuppose reproduction. Rhodes-Kubiak (2015) contends that LGBTQ+ and other “nonheterosexual people have been excluded from full citizenship in various ways: they are denied the same rights extended to heterosexual people; their existence is denied or prohibited; and they are denied participation in political, social, or cultural life” (p. 56). Payne’s recent work on queer citizenship in Colombia explored how LGBTQ+ activists viewed their role within society, “We homosexuals and lesbians in Colombia are not conscious of the fact that we are citizens, subjects of rights . . . and that the state must guarantee them, and so [we] hide” (Alvado Miguel Rivera Linares, murdered Colombian gay activist, cited in Payne, 2016, p. 328). The campaign for sexual citizenship has been described as “not just about personal rights or individual empowerment, nor is it simply about state recognition of certain kinds of privacy, although it includes all of these. It is also concerned with collective processes, public spaces and forms of interrelatedness that are sexual or sexualized” (Sheller, 2012, p. 41). Other common experiences of people with disabilities and sexual minorities are their increased risk of danger and attacks in societies undergoing conflict transformation (Byrne et al., 2018). While a focus on promoting the safety and security of citizens living in areas that have been affected by conflict is a priority, people with disabilities and sexual minorities often face additional challenges that are not always acknowledged within the mainstream conflict transformation policies and programs. Hagen (2016) highlights that “the continued silence about homophobic and transphobic violence targeting lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer (LGBTQ) individuals in conflict-related environments is alarming” (p. 313). In a series of interviews with former combatants in Colombia, Payne (2016) discovered that, while the majority of those interviewed felt that paramilitary groups would continue to commit homophobic and transphobic violence in pursuit of their right-wing ideals, one informant explained his views of a potential shift. To cause [sexual and gender minorities] harm would practically be a political [act]. Why? Because they would already have more rights. Therefore, the action would be against the state, right? . . . Until now, as far as I know, [the paramilitaries] continue to eliminate [sexual and gender minorities], but this is becoming more difficult because . . . these people are being accepted by the community, by civil society . . . and so the people would see [the paramilitaries] as guerrilla . . . as against the civilian population. (Payne, 2016, p. 335) Accounts of people with disabilities “hiding” are also well reported. One such quote comes from Cambodia, “When we went into Kampuchea to organize for disability-related legislation, people were afraid to get involved because they might get disappeared for participation” (Danilo Delfin, Southeast Asia regional development officer for Disabled People International, cited in 193

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Charlton, 1998, p. 101). Delfin went on to say, “If you are disabled, you automatically have people after you. The Khmer Rouge think you were a guerilla. It is very dangerous for people with disabilities, especially in the refugee camps” (cited in Charlton, 1998: p. 141). Fears associated with being easily recognizable and the inabilities to escape danger are factors that some activists need to consider. Despite the importance of the inclusion of these marginalized communities, their experiences are largely missing from the mainstream discussions about conflict transformation. Not only are they missing from the discussions, they are also frequently not given much needed attention in policy and programs. More research is needed to determine why the voices of people from the LGBTQ+ and disability communities continue to be excluded from conflict transformation processes, including in transitional justice programs such as truth and reconciliation commissions, peacebuilding programs, community development initiatives, and the failure to recognize that the complexities of identity go far beyond those traditionally associated with the conflict (Fobear, 2014; Irvine, 2015b).

The experiences of disability and LGBTQ+ movements in conflict transformation Considering the accusation that “disability” and “LGBTQ+” identities are products manufactured and exported by the global North/developed/Western countries, this section examines the experiences of advancing rights of disabled people and members of the LGBTQ+ community. The similarities and differences between the experiences of the global North and global South are important to consider. While international agencies have traditionally viewed peace and development as separate entities, the African perspective, for example, views peace and development as “intimately related” (McCandless & Karbo, 2011, p. 7). In addition, the “African concept of community is predicated on the belief that public interest takes precedence over private interest” (Afoaku, 2005, p. 49). As more participatory approaches to conflict development are developed, it is worth reflecting on what we have observed to date. Within the global North, we have experienced fewer conflicts in recent times, however, there still is a great deal to learn from those examples, namely Northern Ireland and the Balkan states. This section focuses primarily on Northern Ireland, where both authors have spent years working with disability rights campaigners. Northern Ireland is a conservative state and traditional views have dominated, often leaving it behind other parts of the United Kingdom in its recognition of marginalized groups, as activists from both the disability rights and LGBTQ+ movements have commented in personal communications with both authors. Despite the representation of neither movement during the peace talks, however, the Northern Ireland Act (1998), which reestablished a devolved government after a period of direct rule by Westminster, did include an anti-discrimination clause that formally recognized people with disabilities and sexual minorities among the groups that the government and public authorities needed to pay particular attention to in promoting equality of opportunity and good relations. At the time, it was heralded as an example of best practice, however, many activists do not feel that it has been taken seriously enough to have resulted in substantial change and that the resources needed have not been committed (Byrne et al., 2018). One such example was an incident in 2008 where an influential politician made repeated comments about the immorality of homosexuality. Iris Robinson, who held a seat in Westminster, as well as other elected offices in Northern Ireland, and was the wife of Northern Ireland’s First Minister, Peter Robinson, was quoted as saying, “There can be no viler act, apart from homosexuality and sodomy, than sexually abusing innocent children” (United Kingdom Parliament, 2008, 194

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col. 19). Her assertions that homosexuality was an “abomination” and equating it with “child sexual abuse” stirred up a great deal of controversy regarding the opinions of political leaders towards members of the LGBTQ+ community (Curtis, 2013) and their position within the new “peaceful” Northern Ireland. A frequent complaint made by people with disabilities and their family members is that service providers do not work together to address the individual’s needs in a holistic way. This approach, known as mainstreaming, has not been successfully implemented in Northern Ireland, where each government department continues to develop strategies in isolation from one another (Birrell 2009: 20). This lack of joined-up working is not just a problem in policy development, but also in program and service delivery. Difficulties in accessing services were discussed in the 2012 report on the needs of victims. The multiple health problems experienced by many injured people require attendance at a number of different services and hospitals. . . . This is a complex and demanding process which becomes more difficult with age. Thus, many injured people reported an abiding anxiety about how their future healthcare needs will be met as they and their carers get older. (Smyth, 2012, p. 10) Despite the argument made that the services provided did not address the victims’ needs and left them “bitter about their circumstances” (Fay et al., 1999, p. 204), their experiences of disjointed provision and concerns for ageing caregivers are remarkably similar to people with disabilities unrelated to the Troubles. There is also often talk about the fight required to access the available services, however inadequate they may be, and the fatigue that comes with the constant battles to receive entitlements (ECNI, 2003; Smyth, 2012). The lack of involvement of people with disabilities during conflict transformation has resulted in disjointed planning of policies and programs, which fail to meet the needs of disabled people and are not a good investment by the state. More needs to be done to improve effectiveness and efficiency during this crucial time of rebuilding the state and society. While there are many examples of the continued marginalization of the disability rights and LGBTQ+ movements in the global South, this chapter primarily focuses on the experiences in South Africa and Uganda. South Africa expressed unequivocally its commitment to overcoming past injustices during post-apartheid redevelopment. The country was in a unique position at the end of apartheid, in that it had managed to maintain a strong civil society presence throughout the period of political violence, as civil society is generally weakened during prolonged conflict. Nelson Mandela led the ruling party, the African National Congress (ANC), which came to power during the first free elections in South Africa in 1994. In the early stages of conflict transformation, the ANC introduced progressive policies heavily influenced by international standards that set out to improve the quality of life of all South Africans and included specific recognition of disability and gay rights as the result of tireless campaigning by activists (Rowland, 2004; Reid, 2005; Tatchell, 2005). In fact, the 1996 Constitution was the first in the world to include a reference to “sexual orientation” (Dunton & Palmberg, 1996). One of the strategies considered to be a secret of the success of the disability rights movement in South Africa is its decision to take a mainstreaming approach to influencing social and political change (Rowland, 2004). It identified subject specialists on different topics to focus on their issue and insure that the disability perspective was represented in all negotiations. This mainstreaming approach has been praised by Maria Berghs (2015) as “Mainstreaming disability during conflict and post conflict can enable and create a more equitable society and change 195

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the conditions that fostered violence and conflict in the first place” (p. 753). She warns that an emphasis on health and rights could, however, reinforce the perspectives of the global North and fails to consider how more inclusive communities could be developed to meet the needs of the population affected, drawing upon local skills and priorities (Berghs, 2015, p. 753). Any discussion of conflict transformation and human rights would be remiss not to include the recent experience in Uganda. Uganda, like South Africa, is credited with introducing some of the most progressive disability policies in the world as a result of the conflict transformation process (Ingstad & Whyte, 2007) and the recognition of disability has largely been embraced. In both countries, there has been a designated effort to improve the political representation of disabled people by ensuring specific seats are designated for disabled people at all levels of governance. This approach has not been without its critics, particularly as it relates to its implementation and selecting qualified candidates. However, it is an approach that has primarily been seen in the aftermath of political violence, as many countries that have not experienced conflict transformation do not redevelop political structures. Kenya adopted a similar policy following the election violence in 2007. In contrast, however, the construct of LGBTQ+ has largely been viewed as an imported idea that is “not only a threat to families, but a force that could undermine the future of the state” (Fobear, 2014, p. 61) and has not experienced the same progress. The AntiHomosexuality Act (2014) aimed to increase the penalties for homosexuality that was already criminalized in law amid fears of the growing strength of the global LGBTQ+ movements by claiming that it was “Un-African” (Wahab, 2016). The discussions around the “abnormality” of homosexuality were not dissimilar to the discussions in Northern Ireland, both of which aimed to preserve what some leaders deemed “traditional values” in order to build a stable and peaceful society.

Applied conflict transformation theory Recognizing that conflict transformation aims to rebuild society through considering personal, relational, structural, and cultural dynamics, a quick recap drawing on the examples provided may be useful. •

•

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Personal: Conflict transformation is a time for reflection on how things used to be and how people want them to be in the future. This space for contemplation often allows people the opportunity to recognize who they are now in relation to who they used to be and often gives people a voice to talk about the intersectionality and complexities of their own identity. It also can encourage people to become activists and speak out about experiences of injustice. Relational: The examples provided throughout demonstrate that the way people relate to one another following political violence. Since people often report feeling different to how they were before the conflict, conversations about identity and the protection of rights happen at all levels of society. Decisions are made about how people have, do, and should relate to one another and what the new post-conflict state and society should look like. This should go beyond focusing on the relationships between the traditional identities associated with the conflict and look at ways in which acceptance and inclusivity can be developed more broadly. Structural: Changing the way in which seats within political decisionmaking bodies are allocated is one way in which conflict transformation has challenged traditional ways of doing things to create a more inclusive environment. Another example is through Truth 196

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and Reconciliation Commissions, which Fobear (2014) argues would be more effective if they included a larger range of civil society groups that could contribute to important discussions about framing human rights abuses, identities, and oppression (p. 63). Cultural: Conflict transformation presents opportunities for change at all levels. The examples provided have demonstrated ways in which the disability rights and LGBTQ+ movements have influenced cultural shifts by enshrining recognition of rights into legislation and how changing public opinions towards people previously viewed as “outsiders” can reduce acts of violence and discrimination.

Conclusion The title may seem a bit misleading, considering the amount of sources presented within this chapter, however, the authors maintain that the narratives remain marginalized and often considered as “outsiders,” not representative of the post-conflict experience. It is, therefore, not so much that the voices are missing, as that they are missing from the mainstream dialogues about conflict transformation and peacebuilding. This view needs to change to keep in line with our continually evolving concept of social inclusion and citizenship (Flaherty & Hansen, 2015). Many authors have discussed the importance of including different voices in the process of peacebuilding and post-conflict policy development, including, most notably, women and youth. The voices of people identifying as LGBTQ+ or disabled must be considered within the context of understanding society as a whole. Applying Lederach’s four dimensions of conflict transformation may be useful for considering the complexities associated with these challenges. Personally, people need to be able to accept their own identity within the post-conflict environment and recognize what they need to thrive in the redevelopment of state and society. Relationally, people in positions of authority need to recognize shifting attitudes by the general population to people deemed “different” and work to build inclusive communities. Peace talks and other issues related to structural change need to consider identities not traditionally associated with conflict but that make up members of the community. Finally, the cultural shifts required are significant, as both groups have traditionally experienced exclusion and oppression, yet conflict transformation provides opportunities to make changes. These changes will come at all four levels and may provide guidance to activists in other countries looking at advancing disability and LGBTQ+ rights.

References Afoaku, O. G. (2005). Linking democracy and sustainable development in Africa. In O. Ukaga (Ed.), Sustainable Development in Africa: A Multifaceted Challenge (pp. 23–56). Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press. Baker, B. (2006). Post-settlement governance programs: What is being built in Africa? In O. Furley & R. May (Eds.), Ending Africa’s Wars: Progressing to peace (pp. 31–45). Farnham, UK: Ashgate. Berghs, M. (2015). Radicalizing “disability” in conflict and post-conflict situations. Disability and Society, 30(5), 743–58. Birrell, D. (2009). The Impact of Devolution on Social Policy. Bristol, UK: Policy Press. Byrne, S., Mizzi, R., & Hansen, N. (2018). Living in a liminal peace: Where is the social justice for LGBTQ and disability communities living in post peace accord Northern Ireland? Journal for Peace and Justice, 27(1), 24–52. Charlton, J. I. (1998). Nothing about Us without Us: Disability Oppression and Empowerment. Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press. Colletta, N. J., & Cullen, M. L. (2000). Violent Conflict and the Transformation of Social Capital: Lessons from Cambodia, Rwanda, Guatemala, and Somalia. Washington, DC: International Bank for Reconstruction and Development and the World Bank. http://documents.worldbank.org/curated/

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PART IV

Partnership and allies in racial, ethnic, and religious peacebuilding

16 NONVIOLENT SOCIAL MOVEMENTS Advancing justice on paths to peace Jodi Dueck-Read Since the 1994 passage of NAFTA, social movement activism at the United States (US)–Mexico border has increased many times over. In the border environment where neoliberal trade and militarization policies collide with migrating global actors, the transnational Border Justice Movement (BJM) acts to end migrant deaths, enhance human rights protections, and change US migration policies impacting the region. In this peacebuilding work, racialization and white supremacy are identified as systemic and acting as barriers to social and political transformation. Racialization negatively impacts people of color as they are categorized and treated pejoratively because of their race. White supremacy mandates norms of interactions and white credibility underlies movement action. This chapter explores core issues of Racialized Peacebuilding (RP), including the (in)visibility of historical and contemporary activists of color, the dominance of white cultural norms, credibility, and suspicion, and Indigenous exclusion from movement narratives that are obstructions to building an inclusive borderland’s peacebuilding movement. Neoliberal globalization, a process of privatization and hands-off economic growth not contained by national borders (Scholte, 2005), is evidenced by the high concentration of maquilas, the mile-long queue of semi-trailers at ports of entry and trains carrying Ford cars manufactured in Sonora to markets in the US. Mexican farmers cannot afford to grow food on their land to meet their economic survival needs (Nevins, 2007). They follow the flow of jobs and products north where they meet a highly fortified US–Mexico border. Sensors, cameras, drones, and walls force crossers into desolate areas of the Sonoran desert, creating a deadly funnel for migrants. Between 2000 and 2016, the Tucson-based organization Coalición de Derechos Humanos (or Human Rights Coalition), tracked 3,052 migrant deaths in the Arizona–Sonora corridor (Derechos Humanos, 2017). In this militarized milieu, the transnational BJM in Arizona and Sonora is an amalgamation of loosely affiliated individuals and humanitarian, human rights, Indigenous, alternative education, and environmental organizations on both sides of the border working to end migrant deaths. Social movement participants espouse a variety of religious beliefs, are of many genders, and range in age from high school-aged youth to retired individuals who are from the US, the Tohono O’odham Nation, Mexico, Canada, France, and Guatemala. The majority are volunteers or paid workers from the US and Mexico who engage in creative acts of protest, provide humanitarian aid, and lessen deaths in the borderlands.

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BJM works in a society stratified and organized by race. RP, an outgrowth of asymmetrical societal norms privileging white people and their power, occurs in this movement and is characterized by unequal representation, invisibility of racialized actors, and imbalances of power. White supremacy, racism, and tokenism result in the silencing, exclusion, and minimization of racialized persons. White persons and groups command leadership and white credibility is unquestioned. Cultural norms keep racialized actors from expressing their views and from full participation in border justice as white people remain in power. Thus, white leadership remains intact while organizational sensibilities and movement capacity are hampered so that suppositions of distrust and suspicion abound. There is a lack of shared knowledge about the ways that racism and white supremacy function. RP is structurally detrimental as it excludes and minimizes participants of color, limiting the potential of social movement actors to make significant change. This research is based on multi-sited and feminist ethnography in the US–Mexico borderlands. In the summer of 2012, I interviewed 22 white activists and activists of color whose lives are affected by racialized state and federal policies. They leave water in the desert, provide medical aid to migrants in distress, shelter and feed returned or repatriated migrants, and engage in political protest to stop the tragedy of migrant deaths. Eleven narratives are interspersed as I explore the (in)visibility of actors of color, cultural norms exemplifying white supremacy that undergird the movement, narratives of exclusion and suspicion, and white credibility and white male leadership culture.

Peacebuilding, social movements, racism, and white supremacy Peacebuilding is a complex, multi-layered process working on many levels to eliminate structural violence (Galtung, 1996). To create structural peace, grassroots peacebuilding utilizes the involvement of local people and institutions to design, implement, and assess peacebuilding efforts. Peacebuilding is a set of processes by which multi-leveled societal actors seek to change the structures and cultures of violence building relationships among conflict parties (Lederach et al., 2007). Strategic, system-wide, and holistic peacebuilding “empowers people to foster relationships that sustain people and their environment” (Schirch, 2005, p. 9). Peacebuilding is actions to prevent, reduce, transform, and assist people recover from violence in all forms (Richmond, 2014). It encompasses many levels of change processes to develop relationships and end systemic violence. Grassroots peacebuilding efforts involve many coalesced individuals and groups working for multi-level change. Social movements not only seek policy changes but also everyday changes of values and culture (Goodwin & Jasper, 2004). Peacebuilding efforts embodied by social movement actors seek to make change on many levels such as policy changes, new ways of relating, less power imbalances, and reduced violence for all. While working for higher level and cultural changes, peacebuilding efforts also replicate some patterns of society. Race is a powerful social construct and determinant of experience in North America (Pager & Shepherd, 2008). People’s skin color influences their experience on the street, and in classrooms, stores, and workplaces (Lee, 2000). Color-blindness and racial dissociation are practiced readily by dominant (white) society. In social movement organizing, dynamics of racism splinter the path to change. White people are prone to considering themselves “raceless” when they have much power (Bell, 2007). This lack of acknowledgment of the role of white racial power characterizes a system of white supremacy. White supremacy is a self-perpetuating system by which white people remain in power in society. Critical race theorists contend that an entrenched system of white power and dominance undergird North American society (Boatright-Horowitz et al., 2012; Lensmire et al., 2013). White supremacy manifests in political, social, and economic realms, reinforcing systems of 204

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exploitation and institutional racism created by white people to keep their material and social wealth. It is not extremist hate-based activism; it is a system by which white people set the laws and standards in society to remain in power. White supremacy is at work in the myth that the US is a meritocracy and that all people can achieve equally, through drive and determination (Boatright-Horowitz et al., 2012). In North America, race is a determinant of social, institutional, and economic power. White supremacy is characterized by discrimination and racism (Trigilio, 2016). While popular notions of racism imply that people of all races can be racist, racism is enforced by the cultures and institutions of the dominant majority and people with social power (whites) who benefit from racism (Bell et al., 2016). Other groups or individuals of color may hold prejudice, act from internalized racial oppression, or engage in collusion (Bell et al., 2016) to support a system of racism. However, racism is upheld by the structures of white superiority or the belief that white people, norms, and cultures are exceptional and preferred. Like the term globalization, racialization has many different definitions and approaches (Murji & Solomos, 2005). Racialization is a product of systemic racism and it is not a fixed or static category of identity. It is a social and cultural phenomenon, and a process by which people of color are marked as having certain qualities because of biological characteristics. A mutable and social process, racialization occurs differently depending on the context. A person of East Indian descent, who has brown skin, will likely face racism as a person of color in North America. While living in India, this North American of East Indian descent may face integration and adaptation issues. Thus, racialization depends on context. Racialization processes also affect identity, which mold participants’ social, economic, and political experiences (Gallagher, 2003). In contrast, ethnic identity may shape how and why people adhere to certain norms of interaction (Adler et al., 2012), while racialization affects participants’ self-concept. Roy et al. (2010) describe leadership dynamics in a racialized system. While people of color are used to being led by white people, white people are unfamiliar with being guided by leaders of color. “Ceding leadership to people whose interactional assumptions and styles differ from one’s own is a familiar experience for most people of color, but an uncomfortably new one for members of a dominant social group” (Roy et al., 2010, p. 352). It is difficult to create new processes for accomplishing tasks when socially dominant actors see themselves as performing adequately or correctly (Roy et al., 2010). This white discomfort under racialized leadership illustrates the prevalence of whiteness as a construct of relational norms and the impeded leadership potential of people of color.

Racialized peacebuilding In the borderlands justice movement, RP manifests in the (in)visibility of historical and contemporary activists of color, the dominance of white cultural norms, and Indigenous exclusion from movement narratives, white credibility, and suspicion. Racialized participants experience unstated but explicit rules in movement activities, expectations of timeliness, and direct, succinct, and logical communication. The exclusion of emotional reactions from meeting spaces depict RP, which is also characterized by tokenism, distrust, and exclusion. The complex power of whiteness excludes and contravenes the power of racialized and affected persons.

(In)visibility In the BJM at the US–Mexico border in Arizona and Sonora, civil society organizations headed by and comprised of white people are prominent and visible. This dynamic of white visibility is 205

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also evident in academic literature and popular accounts of a preceding social justice movement in the region, the Sanctuary Movement. Scholars of the Sanctuary Movement highlighted the media-savvy role of white churches and the inspiring personalities of several white leaders at the forefront including Reverend John Fife, Jim Corbett, and Jim Dudley (Cunningham, 1995; Coutin, 1993; Davidson, 1988; Haines & Rosenblum, 1999). The perspectives of racialized individuals and female leaders of the Sanctuary Movement have received scant scholarly attention. Contemporary popular histories also minimize the role of participants and organizations of color (see McDaniel, 2017). Rebeca, an activist of color, explains that when white individuals tell stories of border justice work, they fail to provide accurate or contextualized stories about the presence and work of affected participants. For example, Rebeca indicates that a white humanitarian organization recently launched a report that was touted by white, peace-and-justice activists as the first of its kind. Rebeca was compelled to inform this humanitarian organization that such research and similar reports were conducted in the early days of border militarization in the 1990s. Earlier research conducted by organizations composed of participants of color was not remembered nor seen as an important part of history. The involvement of racialized communities is often lost in historical movement narratives created by white people or organizations. Sometimes white leaders become aware of inaccuracies and attempt to make change or apologize. These apologies do not affect dominant understandings of this movement as a primarily white undertaking nor do these apologies appear in scholarly accounts. While the stories of racialized groups are excluded from movement narratives, the perspectives of white people and organizations gain prominence and power, sidelining participants of color.

Cultural norms Cultural norms valuing productivity and professionalism drive meeting spaces, movement organizing, and the relationships and perceptions of people involved in border justice work. These prevalent cultural norms are often invisible because they are accepted or what some would describe as simply the way things are or are supposed to be. The ordinariness of these norms signals these rules as components of an unquestioned system of white supremacy. Alejandra is a research participant whose experience illustrates expected rules of interaction in organizational efforts. Alejandra directs an organization composed of senior, middle-class white women while she identifies as a younger, middle-class woman of Mexican descent. In her work, Alejandra has grappled with an expectation of timeliness and the repercussions for not adhering to this unstated rule. She explains that not arriving on time to meetings has had dire consequences for other workers’ perception of her ability. She explains, “there’s no wiggle room for you to be [seen as] a serious and responsible person [if you arrive late].” Further, she suggests that people do not see her as professional if she is late to a meeting or gathering. Another cultural norm in meetings and interactions is an expectation of acting politely and “playing nicely.” Josefina, a Mexican social movement actor, talks about the importance of politeness among social movement actors. She indicates that politeness is not only required in meeting communication, but explains how movement tactics and strategies are placed under rules of civility. According to Josefina, movement tactics and strategies are intended to communicate courteousness and not to aggravate, mock, anger, provoke, nor annoy any one group or individual. To exemplify the politeness of movement tactics she describes a nice but ultimately ineffective strategy proposed by a group of mostly white clergy in response to the implementation of SB 1070, a law that permitted racial profiling. 206

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The white clergy group initially proposed guidelines to stop racial profiling two days a week. Josefina explained that this proposal sought to reform a policy of racial profiling instead of altering the structure of this unjust law. In contrast, she prefers systemic change and, in particular, a type of change based on the lived experiences of affected people. However, during large group discussion on this initiative, Josefina chose to keep quiet. She contained her emotion and did not speak of her dislike or disapproval of the proposal. Josefina communicated that she did not think she could respond in a non-emotional way that would be understood and accepted by white participants. In our conversation, she proposed responses, which she labeled as “radical,” acknowledging the intention to provoke. She commented that she was willing to “put her blood in the streets,” an action that works outside a framework of civility and utilizes bodily sacrifice to work toward change. Perhaps Josefina’s comments are best understood in the context of a racialized group that is dehumanized and devalued. In order to work against this ongoing societal devaluation, she is preparing, as Hardy and Laszloffy (2005) indicate, to fight a battle with new tactics. New tactics are not always polite. When racialized participants do find acceptable ways to communicate ideas, they may also be silenced. Josefina contends that people of color are silenced in border justice activities as illustrated in the following account. A young woman of color intern with whom Josefina was working was asked to prepare a statement for an important press conference on border violence hosted by a coalition of border groups. The intern prepared what Josefina characterized as a beautifully written account denouncing violent border policies responsible for the death of a US citizen at the border. However, the intern’s passionate account was not permitted without major revisions. Whether this was because she was young and zealous, an impassioned woman, a person of color, or any and all combinations of the aforementioned characteristics, the account was rewritten by one of the participating organizations in order to make it more palatable for the audience. The intern’s passionate voice was silenced and put aside. RP is also evident in expressed fears that racialized participants will be dismissed or disciplined if they disrupt social norms of interaction. For Josefina, that means using self-discipline to follow rules and keep quiet. During collaborative meetings with other organizations she does not say much. She explains that on many occasions she would like to express her dissent about a particular idea or perspective. However, she fears that she will be either disciplined or dismissed if she speaks with the anger and emotion she feels. She describes this type of emotional reaction as evidence of “hot Hispanic blood.” In this conceptualization, Josefina equates being emotional with being Hispanic. Emotionality is also equated with women’s ways of being (Jawhary, 2014). Keeping quiet then is her response to dominant rules, which seem to value logic over emotionality.

Tokenism Tokenism plays out in the BJM as racialized persons receive differential treatment, are treated as special or as outsiders, and are consulted at the last moment. Nica talks about how she is treated differently in white border justice spaces and how her voice and the voices of racialized people are not listened to until the last moment. She names these experiences as tokenism. As a woman of color who attends meetings of white humanitarian groups, Nica is called out and thanked profusely for attending meetings and adding to the discussion. In addition to being annoyed at this unrequited differential treatment, Nica discerns that such spaces are not welcoming. 207

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It makes me stay away from some of those spaces because I don’t go there to be like [or to receive the following comments], “That was so powerful what you said. Can I just thank you for coming?” You know some days, I really say some badass shit and I deserve credit for some badass shit I have said but I do not say that much badass stuff that I deserve. That is just a bit much and I do not feel comfortable with it . . . I have been to meetings when I went to leave and [the facilitator said,] “Can we just thank Nica for coming here?” It felt so gross. I did not appreciate that. I did not feel honored. I felt tokenized. And maybe they thought that would make me like them more and come back more but all it did was make me feel really alienated. Being called out especially to be thanked and recognized is one form of tokenism that has a negative impact on Nica’s continued participation. While tokenism impacts people differently, these experiences make Nica feel inhibited in certain spaces. Tokenism also plays out in social movement organizing in the form of last moment consultations. Participants and/or organizations of color are often brought in or consulted at the last minute to provide what Nica calls “brown icing on the cake.” In this dynamic, participants of color are not involved in the decisionmaking process to create a new strategy or organize a press conference but are invited in at the last moment to provide approval. Tokenism constrains participation and the illustrative metaphor of “icing on the cake” provided by Nica offers a powerful image. The substantial part of the cake, the batter, is mixed and baked, and the pretty frosting, added after the cake is cool, adds to the beauty and attractiveness of the cake while not altering the cake’s composition. Dominant groups are in charge of deciding who comes in and how they are included.

Limited discussions about privilege and power Another dynamic of RP is the exclusion of conversations about white privilege, social status, identity, and power. While racialized participants discuss these issues within ingroup settings, they happen with less frequency among white participants. This lack of awareness and discussion of such privilege among white people has direct results for the border justice community. Luz shares the emotional and blaming response she has received when she has discussed white privilege among social movement actors. She describes conversations about privilege as complicated, messy, and hurtful. White people question and blame persons of color for casting the “race card.” Luz explains in more detail. I still have a hard time saying “white people” and white privilege. I have a hard time with that because it is still taboo because now it has been like the paradigm has shifted. “Oh, you are being sensitive!” “You are being overly dramatic.” “Oh, you guys just throw out the race card all the time.” There is almost like backlash against you so you start to feel like, “oh maybe I am.” and it is like, “no, you are not the problem. This is really happening. You are not imagining this.” This is an issue. Luz’ experience illustrates the mental and emotional gymnastics involved in bringing up issues of white privilege and such experiences may cause people of color to question their perspective. Other participants also experience negative impacts from fostering conversation on racism. Nica describes how she has been the recipient of anger and defensiveness emanating from white activists learning about white privilege. She goes on to explain how white privilege influences many aspects of movement organizing and expresses her anger that white people are not taking 208

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responsibility for their participation in oppressive systems. She suggests that white people should be aware and willing to discuss these issues. In RP, social status, identity, and power are discussed in individual spaces and/or people of color begin these conversations to the apparent dismay and anger of white participants. This leads to ongoing relational issues as racialized participants are characterized as angry, emotional, or using race for their own advantage. Such racialization limit potentialities in border justice organizing.

Suspicion Another angle of RP is encapsulated in the way that suspicion operates among movement participants. Miguel Angel, a Mexican participant, hesitates to tell his experience with a white humanitarian organization. White participants have accused Mexicans of engaging in objectionable or illicit activities for the mere fact that they are Mexican. While Miguel Angel does not name this behavior as racial discrimination, the impact of this lack of trust is that he feels that he is treated as a second-class citizen. He goes on to provide additional stories that highlight his distrust of white organizations. Miguel Angel dreads talking about misunderstandings and other conflicts with US-based organizations. In the past, voicing disagreement brought further rifts into individual and organizational relationships. When he brought up conflict, “they [white humanitarian organization] were not happy with me.” Miguel Angel’s experiences and perceptions illustrate one way that suspicion operates. White participants are also suspicious. While tempering her suspicion with expressions of love for all people, one white participant shared her suspicions of Mexican people. Susana seemed both unaware of her overt racial suspicion and at the same time aware and struggling with how to handle this quandary. In our conversation, she overflowed with compassion for humanity and an eagerness to change the hearts and minds of US-based policymakers to create a more humane situation at the border. She also noted her suspicion of Mexicans, “when I meet the people from Mexico, there is a part of me that, that is slightly suspicious.” She explained that suspicion as a wariness of the connections that Mexicans have to criminal elements. While she tries to alleviate this skepticism by a commitment to treating everyone equally, in one soliloquy she talked about treating everybody the same even though Mexicans were connected to cartels and criminal behavior. Susana did not communicate that some Mexicans were connected but simply that Mexicans, as an ethnic group, migrant or resident, were connected to criminal elements. Susana’s suspicion can be considered in light of the economic, political, and social structures of migration. Such structures marginalize Mexican people, criminalizing and endangering those who cannot afford the time and resources required to cross through ports of entry. Susana’s suspicion can also be understood by considering identity differences or thinking based on “us versus them.” This type of reasoning is upheld by white supremacist assumptions, which provide social and material benefits to whites at the expense of people of color. In interpersonal and organizational relationships, suspicion erodes trust. In both cases, participants were suspicious of the other’s intentions and these fears lead to distrustful relating. Successful transnational communication, relationships and collaborative efforts are characterized by a level of trust; one that is difficult to maintain when suspicion abounds.

Indigenous exclusion The views and perspectives of Indigenous persons are given little consideration in the BJM. Human rights or humanitarian groups have few Indigenous participants. Several Arizona-based 209

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Indigenous groups advocate for changes to US border policy, however, they do so from the margins and are generally not formal members of centrally organized coalitions. Individuals from the Tohono O’odham Nation, an Indigenous band in southern Arizona, participate in humanitarian activities and organizations, and narrate stories of exclusion. Ralph, an Indigenous border justice participant, has placed water receptacles throughout the reservation, joined in many different border justice organizations, activities, and protests. He asserts that border justice organizations are ignoring Indigenous persons. He claims that organizations know that migrants are dying on Tohono land and yet, with the exception of one humanitarian organization, no organization holds the Nation accountable. Ralph surmises that the Nation is not held morally responsible, not because non-Indigenous are respecting Indigenous sovereignty, but because white and Latino organizations do not see O’odham as fully human. There is more of the same self-righteous moral silence that the Tohono O’odham people and government are the moral untouchables because maybe we are not fully human. . . . If we were moral equals we would be held accountable to the same moral standard that we hold the Border Patrol against. Ralph is sarcastic and indignant as he mimics the voice of a white border justice leader, who keeps border activists from responding to the nation, Well, Mr. X says, “Don’t say anything bad against Indians. You know they do not need more white people telling them what to do,” and so that sort of excludes, or excuses migrant deaths on the Tohono O’odham Nation and they are beyond the pale of moral accountability. “Those poor, pathetic, little Indians. Look what we have done to them.” Ralph does not contend that white people are infringing on Indigenous sovereignty or using violence to hinder the wellbeing of Indigenous persons, although such a long and tenuous history of settler governments encroaching on Indigenous nations is well known (Cornell, 2015). Instead, Ralph goes on to say that this kind of attitude, which emanates from the higher echelons of border movement leadership, belittles Indigenous peoples, seeing them as less than capable and furthermore demonstrates a “paternalistic racist attitude.” While Ralph fumes about the dehumanization of O’odham people, it is clear that he demands his nation be recognized. Ralph’s discontent with the border justice community stems from his complaint that the Nation is not considered in movement activities and that Tohono O’odham people are not seen as fully human. He does not just consider himself excluded from the mainstream but rather he is part of a community of people whose existence has been demeaned and dehumanized. Ralph’s strong voice of discontent is not the only sign of Indigenous exclusion. The scarcity of Indigenous participants in mainstream organizing is noticeable, as is the dearth of conversation among participants about responding to deaths on the Nation. In the BJM, Indigenous voices are marginalized.

White credibility In the US, corporate and/or mainstream media frame stories, and racialized groups are featured less often on the news (Heider, 2000). Haines and Rosenblum (1999) contend that mainstream media cover border activism when white people are acting as heroes and not when the poor or 210

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racialized are caring for each other. This allows the perspectives of white people as heroes to be shared often through legitimate media sources. As white knowledge is proffered through the media, it is considered credible. This phenomenon of white credibility and ongoing exclusion of marginalized voices occurs within border justice organizing. White activist Jenna shared with me about an antiracism campaign, a collaborative venture between a white organization and a communitybased organization of color. In this campaign, when white people labeled the ongoing dynamics of race as racism, their work was legitimated through press coverage. The organization received media coverage to spread awareness about upcoming actions and workshops. Racialized groups involved in the campaign were unable to garner the same press coverage, nor were they afforded legitimacy to denounce racism; this type of power is afforded to white groups. This example speaks to the prevalent capacity of white organizations to be seen as credible and to the difficulties that organizations of color face in being visible and credible to the wider community. The example also illustrates a considerable power imbalance between white and community organizations, a consideration for peacebuilding.

White, male leadership culture Informal and formal leadership in the BJM is largely composed of white male leaders. White male spokespeople do not necessarily hold formal organizational titles as board chairs or executive directors, yet white men are held in high esteem, undertake leadership responsibilities, and their perspectives are often made visible in media sources. As Carli (1999) explains, men are often afforded legitimacy as leaders due to their perceived power currencies in excess of women. White male leadership is also the result of informal leadership structures in the BJM. Jane describes the informal process by which leaders secure leadership roles, “Part of it is stepping up to do the work, stepping up to say, ‘Okay, I can be a part of this working group and I am willing to do this and this.’” From this description, leadership requires a willingness to be involved and then follow-through. This idea of leadership, occurring through a process of stepping-up, is also Kelly’s experience in religious contexts. When white participant Kelly attended a newly forming group of clergy leaders, she realized that she was part of a leadership group. When I got invited to that meeting, I thought it was going to be like 75 people with 20–30 clergy from all over the place and I would just sit and listen and it was not so. Then I was like, “oh, I am part of the leadership group of this movement.” People who show up and are willing to do work even if they do not necessarily join under the pretense of attaining leadership acquire leadership. Such male leadership is boosted by societal standards and social conceptions of power and leadership. As clergy are often considered community leaders, this may also be an ongoing characteristic of clergy involvement. Such leadership appears informal and unstructured. Informal and unstructured leadership is not necessarily accessible. In a racialized environment, leadership roles are regulated by the unstated rules and norms previously discussed. Leaders are expected to meet rules of timeliness, politeness, and civility to be considered apt for leadership. Racialized leaders also face the possibility of cultural and identity dislocation, situations when they feel silenced and/or repercussions for advocating for structural change. They may be considered a special representative of their race and tokenized or they may feel excluded 211

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from movement agenda. In sum, the dynamics of RP hinder opportunities for racialized persons to acquire leadership.

Conclusions Under a regime of RP, racialized participants face a host of challenges. First, the narratives of racialized participants are often excluded, marginalized, or disregarded. In border justice activities dominant social norms structure relationships and discussions, enforcing rules of politeness and timeliness to the detriment of other ways of being. As a result, racialized participants may feel silenced or tokenized. As dominant groups continue to take charge, others are excluded. Indigenous voices actively present their humanity in the face of demeaning messages from mainstream organizing groups. Sparse discussions of privilege and power, suspicion of different racial groups, and a leadership structure which favors those in power, all help to enforce an RP system. All of these unintentional and intentional ways of structuring and carrying out a social movement have negative consequences for movement cohesion and peacebuilding potential. These elements of RP build on one another and create a circular, duplicating, and damaging pattern. With less visibility of racialized participants, there is less appreciation of their unique contributions and ongoing potential. When white men are seen as leaders there is less mentorship of new leaders and the structures supporting white leadership remain in place. When there is fear of dissent in conjunction with an obligation of civility, people without normalized communication skills are discounted. When people are tokenized and consulted at the last moment, they remain on the margins or as Indigenous participants are few, their voices are dismissed. When racism is mentioned by racialized participants and blamed on participants of color, the conversation remains localized and unproductive. When white knowledge is seen as credible in comparison to racialized knowledges, white knowledge remains at the core. RP is a structural problem that fractures communities, makes it difficult to listen, and devalues the contributions of diverse peoples. RP weakens relationships and potential for social change.

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17 ENGAGING STUDENTS IN HUMANITARIAN ACTION USING ENDURING QUESTIONS A Jesuit approach Janie Leatherman and Kathryn Nantz One need look no further than the front page of a newspaper, or the first few posts in a Facebook feed, to encounter the reality of human suffering. Suffering has become a lens for mobilizing humanitarian action in contemporary politics, especially for disadvantaged people – the vulnerable, poor, and marginalized, at home and abroad (Fassin, 2012, p. 1). Yet the discourse around suffering engenders both support and resistance. It can make some people indifferent to pain experienced by others, particularly if those “others” are different, far away, or deemed unworthy of sympathy much less empathy. Pope Francis termed this “the globalization of indifference.” In 2013, speaking from a small island in the Mediterranean Sea that served as the entry point to Europe for thousands of refugees and asylum seekers, Francis said, “We have become used to the suffering of others. It doesn’t affect us. It doesn’t interest us. It is not our business” (Hooper, 2013, para. 1). This chapter reports the findings of an innovative curriculum project in humanitarian action with fellow Jesuit Fordham and Georgetown Universities and the University of Central America in Nicaragua carried out from 2013 to 2016, the second of two sequential grants from the Teagle Foundation (Burrell et al., 2015). In this subsequent phase, the partner institutions were charged to identify “great questions” appropriate to our curricular project, and then to organize our cross-institutional collaboration around interrogating these questions in ways that would enhance student learning. We identified three such questions: What is human suffering and why does it exist today? What are our individual and collective responsibilities for humanity? What actions can we take? These three guiding questions formed the foundation upon which a variety of courses from different disciplines were developed on each campus. We begin the chapter by situating this Jesuit University Humanitarian Action Network (JUHAN) curricular initiative in relation to our motivations to educate a new generation of students for the unprecedented scope and intensity of humanitarian needs, along with the synergies and shared missions and practices that shaped our collaboration. We discuss our curricular model and best practices, the analytical methodology, and results and implications of this study.

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Impetus for the development of the JUHAN curriculum Invoking the metaphor of a crooked timber, Barnett (2011) suggests that humanitarianism can never live up to its own pure and good intentions. He places his own writing in the context of those who treat “humanitarianism as a morally complicated creature, a flawed hero defined by the passions, politics, and power of its times even as it tries to rise above them” (Barnett, 2011, p. 11). The JUHAN project takes as its point of departure these ethical concerns. They constitute an overriding impetus for our work: to prepare a new generation of undergraduate students for moral and civic leadership to support humanitarian action.1 Three other related factors also motivated our project and helped us to define its goals. First, we identified the importance of equipping a new generation of leaders for the increasing scope and intensity of humanitarian concerns, whether at home or abroad, arising from a host of often intersecting and exacerbating factors, such as: transnational crime and conflict, climate change, unsustainable urbanization, the urbanization of war, poor public health infrastructure, and large populations living on marginal or vulnerable land subject to flooding, landslides, or earthquakes (Martin et al., 2014; ALNAP, 2015). Over the last decade, the number and intensity of internal conflicts has increased, while the number of refugees, IDPs, and others of concern to the UNHCR doubled, reaching 67.7 million people in 2016, a number unprecedented since World War II (Institute for Economics and Peace, 2017, pp. 30–5). These realities are compounded by the fact that mega-catastrophes – extreme, cataclysmic disasters – are affecting populations with greater “frequency, duration, and intensity” (Burkle et al., 2014, pp. 25–6). Second, we identified the importance of building stronger ethical and moral capacities in humanitarian responders. This objective arose in part from growing evidence of gender-based violence, mostly by members of armed groups, yet sometimes by peacekeepers or aid workers (Leatherman, 2011). At the same time, the international humanitarian system has continued to expand, reaching 4,480 operational aid agencies, 450,000 humanitarian aid workers, and an annual expenditure of over $25 billion in 2014. While mounting pressures for coordination, efficiency, coverage, and effectiveness have subjected the humanitarian system to greater professionalization and accountability, this largely “jury-rigged” system is at its limit and continues to raise many ethical concerns (ALNAP, 2015, p. 10; Slim, 2014). Third, we identified the importance of cultivating student commitments to alleviating suffering in an era characterized by increasing moral ambivalence. In a Trumpian world of rising nationalism and populist leadership (Mudde & Rovira Kaltwasser, 2017), erosions of democracy raise new barriers to civic engagement. The international political climate makes it even more difficult for students to remain open and concerned about the reality of others’ suffering. Consequently, another motivation behind the JUHAN project is to inculcate in students a sensibility for the Other, a willingness to encounter the realities of the suffering of the vulnerable, marginalized, and excluded, to discern what it means to be men and women for others.

Synergies, common missions, and shared practices In the face of these challenging systemic conditions, the JUHAN partner institutions have found several sources of opportunity to forge concerted efforts. The motivations for the JUHAN project coincided with a national dialogue on civic and moral education (AACU, 2012) reflected in an initiative by the Teagle Foundation to promote education for civic and moral responsibility. It aimed to enlist partner institutions to engage students in “big questions” that would help them think about their own responsibilities, professional integrity, values, and

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goals in the context of democratic citizenship and civic engagement. The overarching goal was to inculcate in students a disposition to work with people different from them, both at home and internationally, and to summon the moral and political courage to take risks for the greater public good (Sullivan, 2017). To these ends, the common Jesuit heritage provided a vital synergy that animated our collaboration. All three campuses have similar goals and practices for the instruction of their students in Ignatian principles and values, one being to stand in solidarity as men and women for others. The Jesuit heritage provides a shared framework for developing a critical approach to an ethics of caring in humanitarian action. Further, the tradition of liberation theology among Latin American Jesuits is an epistemology familiar to the partner universities, and from which UCA draws directly. This became another source of synergy through the contributions to the project of Jesuit priests, scholars, and undergraduate administrators. One of the leading philosophical voices in this tradition was Father Ignacio Ellacuría SJ, who served as the rector of UCA, El Salvador, and was one of the six Jesuits assassinated in 1989 (Lee, 2013). Three dimensions of Ellacuría’s thought inform the way we approached this collaborative project, namely, the importance of (1) taking hold of reality, (2) bearing the burden of reality, and (3) taking responsibility for it. In contrast to feelings of ambivalence, compassion fatigue, or outright hostility that hinder the mobilization of moral sentiment for and engagement with persons in need of aid, Ellacuría argues for getting inside of their reality, really seeing things as they are from that perspective. For him, it meant from the perspective of the majority poor – being in solidarity with them and using their life experience as a mirror to critically evaluate our own lives and positions of privilege. He urged us to bear the burden of that reality – and at its worst – and in that sense to be responsible for the role we may have played ourselves or through the actions of our country in causing the suffering of others (Sobrino, 2008). These ideas were central to the Jesuit commitments driving our approach. During a team workshop at UCA, the University’s rector, Father José Alberto Idiáquez Guevara SJ (educated by one of the murdered El Salvadoran priests), sketched these intellectual histories in his address, titled “Suffering and solidarity: A challenge for Jesuit universities” (2015). He opened his remarks by emphasizing the importance of direct experience for challenging the mind to change, reminding us that “‘personal involvement with innocent suffering, with the injustice others suffer, is the catalyst for the solidarity which opens the way to intellectual inquiry and moral reflection’" (quoting Father Peter-Hans Kolvenbach SJ). Father Idiáquez Guevara also situated the idea of “helping others” as central to Jesuit education. He argued It is the wisdom, knowledge, and daily experience of the suffering majorities who live at the margins of the spaces of power and privilege . . . who actually touch the depths of our inner world. Moreover, because of their simplicity, the outcasts of the earth are best able to design a hopeful future, precisely because they have been forged in the midst of adversity and need. In response to these moving remarks from Father Idiáquez Guevara, project participants crystallized on “suffering” as the object of our interdisciplinary inquiry. Though certainly to vastly different degrees, every person perceives him or herself as having suffered in some way. This provided us with a point of common connection to the human condition, some common ground for our students, a way into the humanitarian impulse. What we eventually found is that students were able to use these enduring questions about human suffering to drill down from the macro level to the individual person whose suffering required witness. In contrast, most of 216

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our traditional pedagogical strategies and texts for teaching keep us safely removed (with our theories, frameworks of analysis, statistics, charts, etc.) from the human suffering at stake in the subject matter we are teaching, whether, for example, it is the politics, economics, or sociology of conflict, famine, poverty, or disease. The JUHAN project has sought, through the curriculum and pedagogies its faculty have developed, to get close to the reality of human suffering, to raise questions in that regard about agency, responsibility, accountability, caring, the problem of distance (near or far), and ethics.

Curriculum and course design To do this work, we turned to Fink’s taxonomy of significant learning, which is composed of process elements (engaged students functioning in a high-energy classroom environment) and outcomes (significant and lasting change that has value in the life of the learner) (2003, p. 7). His model allowed us to incorporate both the cognitive and affective dimensions of learning important to understanding human suffering, and pursue a course design model that focuses attention on student change or, as others have termed it, transformative learning. “Transformative learning includes a holistic change in how a person both affectively relates to and conceptually frames his or her experience; thus, it requires a healthy interdependence between affective and rational ways of knowing” (Davis-Manigaulte et al., 2006, p. 27). This type of learning allows for the kind of work that has to be done if humanitarian education is to be successful: bridging the distance students can feel from those experiencing suffering in their daily lives, and bearing witness to the experiences that others have had both in the past and present. In early conversations with faculty, this interdependence between the affective and the cognitive dimensions of knowing and learning became a major concern. Courses focused on human suffering, they feared, would wear on student emotions; so much so that they would not be able to work constructively towards desired learning goals. In fact, new research on the brain and learning describes the important role played by emotions in learning; emotions are not separate from cognition but rather emotion is infused through and imbedded in the knowledge itself. Emotions guide our understanding and help learners define what they care about. These “emotional rudders” steer rational actions and increase the ability to learn (Immordino-Yang, 2013). The key then for our project was to find ways to harness the emotional energy students built around the questions of human suffering, and use it to improve their learning. Faculty looked to best practices in education and created the “high-energy classroom environments” that Fink described in order to mediate the emotional impact of course content with activity and collaboration. Creating transformative learning experiences, however, is an ambitious task. Fetherston and Kelly (2007) describe a conflict resolution course that they redesigned using critical pedagogy with the goal of engaging students in transformative learning. However, the authors were forced to conclude that “no clear cluster of transformative experiences emerged” from their data and recognized that student resistance to the course content, as well as the coll­aborative and reflective pedagogies, limited its transformative potential (p. 274). Despite the evidence provided by Fetherston and Kelly, there is an extensive research literature on the effectiveness of using active and collaborative learning methods to engage students (Bonwell & Eison, 1991; Prince, 2004). When this project began, we asked each instructor in a survey to identify best educational practices that he or she would use to achieve the common learning outcomes; many of them described active and collaborative strategies and use of simulations. Common themes included use of images and video to engage students’ interest 217

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and curiosity. After viewing a piece, faculty asked students to discuss in groups, debate, and create mental maps, or to otherwise apply the information they had just taken in. One instructor worked with students using a structured argument model to demonstrate that, even in the face of suffering, informed and considered judgments can be made about actions. Another instructor used a “layered approach,” with arms-length discussions of definitions of suffering, followed by a video clip or movie and reflection, followed by a debate about an important question. One class developed a policy paper based on their human rights research and advocacy for Scholars at Risk (SAR). This process moved students from the position of distanced observers to engaged activists. Yet another instructor described a variety of active learning exercises used at every step along the way: brainstorm sessions, videos, drawings, diagrams, conceptual and mental maps, summary tables, essays, talks, debates, formative discussion, and feedback sessions. She summarized her “See, Judge, Act” methodology as “involving all the dynamics leading to commitment . . . to contextualize, to be able to reflect, to act for the proposal” (Faculty Survey Response). All of these strategies focused on the desired outcome: creating significant learning experiences related to human suffering that would generate transformative learning.

Assessment methodology and database Each institution approached the guiding questions through their local context, while gaining insights and inspiration from the experiences of the partners. In this way, the design of the project was elicited from the participants and stakeholders, rather than prescribed (Lederach, 1995). For UCA, human suffering is immediately visible at the edge of the campus; most of the students confront human suffering in their local communities or daily lives. Their approach involved providing a two-semester service learning experience for students in an appropriate disciplinary course sequence, providing real and immediate opportunities to bear witness to the suffering of others in Nicaraguan society. Likewise, on the well-manicured university campuses at Fairfield and Georgetown, encountering undocumented students, the urban poor, or resettled refugees in local and surrounding communities challenged faculty and students to bear witness to human suffering not merely as a distant humanitarian crisis, but as a reality that also shapes local relationships. Georgetown is located just a few miles from the national mall in Washington, DC, raising challenges for engaging students on a campus neighboring the massive national security state apparatus of the US government. Course goals were designed in all cases to lessen the “distance” between students and the people they were studying. Sometimes the distance was measured in miles, yet at other times it was class, race, or gender that made students unable to, as Ellacuría put it, “bear the burden” of the reality endured by other people. All three of the partner institutions focused on faculty training: at Fairfield two facilitators worked with 23 faculty members from 16 different disciplines in Faculty Learning Communities (FLCs), representing all of its academic divisions. That effort, together with momentum from JUHAN-designated courses that enrolled 716 students over the grant period, led to the launch of a humanitarian action minor in January 2016. Fifteen students from nursing, business, and arts and sciences registered for the minor in its first semester. Georgetown likewise used FLCs to train a dozen faculty members from different specializations to spearhead course development on international humanitarian action as part of its “Peace and Justice” major. Similar to Fairfield, Georgetown offered a number of its humanitarian action courses with a service-learning component. UCA trained 46 faculty

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members, and launched service learning across its entire campus in all disciplines, involving 164 faculty members and reaching 5,911 students. UCA also piloted the JUHAN methodology on the three enduring questions in seven undergraduate courses over the three-year grant period, reaching 266 students through this effort alone. Georgetown conceived of a model for JUHAN student fellows that Fairfield also adapted in the first year of the grant. All three campuses organized workshops and events to promote awareness and response to violence and human suffering, including joint response to breaking humanitarian crises. The assessment of student learning outcomes was organized around reflective responses to three end-of-semester questions that tracked closely to the guiding questions on human suffering that faculty incorporated in their syllabi. These assessment questions were: How did this course help you to encounter the reality of human suffering? Did this course shape your moral and ethical thinking on humanitarian response? If so, how? What actions will you take? Faculty members incorporated this reflective exercise in different ways. Some assigned it as an in-class activity, others asked for it as an out-of-class homework assignment, and others used it as a portion of a final exam. In most cases, the exercise was prepared and submitted by students as hard copy. In a few instances, reflective responses were collected online or as part of the final course evaluation process. Once the reflective writing was collected, we took a grounded theory approach to the data analysis using the NVivo (version 9) software package. This tool allows a researcher to “code” elements of each written sample (sentences or sentence fragments) as aligning with particular topics. These elements are then copied into topical “buckets” or what NVivo calls “nodes.” Then we could determine what sorts of ideas and thoughts were occurring regularly and make counts of the frequency of their occurrence. Thirteen courses were selected in total from partner institutions for analysis, and 188 student responses were coded in NVivo.2 Examples of assessed courses included “Literature of the Holocaust,” “Methodology of English Instruction,” “History of Global Humanitarian Action,” “Theological Reflection,” “Ethical Issues in International Relations,” “Conflict Transformation,” and “Politics of Humanitarian Action.” We reviewed the responses to these questions from the reflective essays as a way to better assess the extent to which the courses were successful in helping students understand how the suffering of others affects them, and how it should be of interest to caring citizens of the world.

Findings Responses to our reflective writing prompts were quite rich, and helped us understand how students were impacted by the focus on these enduring questions, as well as by the pedagogies that were implemented. Table 17.1 summarizes these responses by question.3 By far, the largest number of responses to Question 1 – How did this course help you to encounter the reality of human suffering – referred to pedagogies used by instructors. Most often, students cited active and collaborative assignments and activities as helping them to encounter the reality of suffering. Use of film or other media, testimony in class from a guest speaker, poetry, and other art forms, reading personal accounts and texts, all of these were cited as methods that engaged students in experiencing the reality of suffering, and that applied conceptual learning to the real world and to real people. One student said, I was asked to recite the poem along with a select few other students in front of the class and the first line I stated, “Shot in the Jewish hospital, the wailing infants/thrown out the windows . . .” These are human beings we are talking about.

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Janie Leatherman and Kathryn Nantz Table 17.1  NVivo survey coding results Thematic responses

Number of sources

Number of responses

Question 1: How did this course help you to encounter the reality of human suffering?

Helpful pedagogies Evidence of empathy Application of theory to practical reality Most helpful knowledge

32 15 12 8

105 29 32 16

Question 2: Did this class shape your moral and ethical thinking on humanitarian response? If so, how?

Connecting ethical thinking with action Evidence of moral and/or ethical thinking More nuanced view of the world Kind of person I want to be

15 13 9 7

37 63 19 12

Question 3: What actions will you take?

Inform and engage others Doing volunteer work Personal development Help people Learning more Jobs students are interested in pursuing

24 15 14 10 8 6

54 25 24 12 23 19

Another said, Working on our SAR report, visiting the UN and the Special Rapporteur on Human Rights in Iran and having countless knowledgeable guest lectures in class contributed a great deal to my understanding of human suffering. Other responses to question 1 provided evidence of empathy and an emergent sense of solidarity with the people and events they were studying. Students were able to see the usefulness of the knowledge they were accumulating through their class readings and lectures because there were immediate applications of it. Students wrote: I can empathize and realize that despite not understanding the pain that someone has experienced, I can act as a witness to prevent more instances of human suffering in the future of our world. And, The reflective journal entries we were required to do after every class were also a major influence in my intellectual curiosity and empathy for those who suffered. I really did feel myself connected and living through this horrific experience with victims, before, during, and after the war. Another student indicated the impact of the course on her sense of self, It made me uncomfortable, not in a way that I didn’t like, but in a way that forced me out of my bubble. Responses to Question 2 were more varied, perhaps due to the differing ways that students had of understanding the terms “moral” and “ethical.” The largest number of students (15) made connections between ethical thinking and action. They reflected on their own behaviors, 220

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and considered them anew based on what they now understood as their responsibilities. A student said, [I] never really took into consideration the impact a “bystander” has on situations involving the suffering of others. If I’m being quite honest, I myself have probably been in a few situations where I had the ability to speak up and change a situation to benefit someone else at the cost of my own humility or potential danger, but I chose to do nothing because it was easier. I don’t think that will ever happen again. And, I am now aware of the limitations that exist when trying to regulate human rights law on a global scale, and [the class] have made me more passionate about clarifying these issues and urging well-developed countries to aid those who face more difficulty because it is their moral duty. Students indicated they had a more nuanced view of the world as they began to recognize that things weren’t as “black and white” as they thought (Perry, 1998). The world is full of ethical challenges that require discernment, careful thinking, and planning to address. A student said, At times, there are things that need to be done that would in most cases be immoral and unethical yet help the greater good. Its scary to think that you might have to get your hands dirty if you want to help the overall problem. Students were reconsidering their own roles in solving complex global problems, and thinking about how they themselves could become agents of change. This class pushed me to think ethically about situations in IR and to really consider how my individual actions should reflect my moral values. Theory is no good without practice, so I think that humanitarian response is a necessity if I am to truly believe in the human rights ethical framework. Whether the action is big or small, I think that we are all called to be aware of human suffering and do our part to alleviate it in whatever way we can. The most common responses to Question 3 involved wanting to inform and engage friends and family. Many students expressed a desire to share their knowledge, to help other people understand important information about suffering in the world. Some indicated a willingness to use social media to inform others, and to adopt an advocacy position for those who are suffering. Others pledged to take action in their own communities. A student commented, As a journalism major and aspiring writer, I will continue to spread awareness through my words and through their publication. I will help others be well informed about why we must act as witnesses during all moments of history. And, I have applied for an internship within the State Department to begin a career that will, I hope, eventually present me with the authority to affect decisionmaking about humanitarian response. 221

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Implications and conclusions First, we cannot overstate the importance of our use of enduring questions: they were the cornerstone of our JUHAN curricular project. It drove our work in a common direction, yet allowed us to develop pedagogies for humanitarian action that were contextualized to our different campus realities. The enduring questions gave us a common tool to develop a range of pedagogical interventions across different curricular models to challenge indifference and a sense of overwhelming disempowerment that many students face, either vis-à-vis the scale of global humanitarian challenges or the realities of human suffering in their own communities. The enduring questions also helped to make visible what privilege means and how it works – its scope and impacts – and what it takes to break out of that framework and expand spheres of accountability (May, 2015, p. 38). One student observed: Its very difficult to complain about lunch when you see that some people are literally eating dirt to survive. And another remarked, I had never heard of people experiencing that kind [sic] of suffering, not in person. I think that is when my mindset really started to change. It is likely that this student had, in fact, “heard of people experiencing suffering” of all sorts, but, returning to the quote from Pope Francis, that suffering had not been his or her “business.” While students did not romanticize the situation of people at the margins, the curriculum did challenge their normative thinking, including the ways that assumptions are historically situated and operate today; in that context, it raised for them questions about whose lives matter, and why, and how we can make a difference. The curriculum thus engaged them in concepts of agency, space, and location, and relational caring, which emphasize human interdependence and mutual vulnerability (May, 2015; Held, 2006; Robinson, 2011). Through our curriculum design and pedagogies, we were able to break through the barriers of resistance that people can erect between themselves and the suffering of others, to build capacity in students that allowed them to bear witness to that experience, to consider the moral responsibilities this entails (Dawes, 2007, p. 6). A student reflected, The issue ceased to be something occurring “so far away” . . . In looking at human suffering in contrast with my own life, I was able to really consider my own role in this crises [sic] . . . it is a reality that must be shared by all in order to recognize it as a shared responsibility. And another, I have come to recognize my privilege, and come to understand the harsh world many live in. Second, the three enduring questions have taught our students and us not to be afraid of encountering suffering first hand. As Ellacuría asserted, we have to learn from those who know and experience suffering intimately. Through the lens of our three questions, students have found ways to relate to, and better understand others whose lives seem different from their own and in so doing, 222

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to encounter the universality of the human experience, one of the key goals of the JUHAN grant. This has challenged our students’ priorities, their development of ethical commitments, and their readiness to take action. One student articulated in her reflections that she was able to bear witness to suffering and to channel her emotions into positive action: I can empathize and realize that despite not understanding the pain that someone has experienced, I can act as a witness to prevent more instances of human suffering in the future of the world. Another student described a change in attitude reflecting a new sense of solidarity with those who are suffering and the global community’s role in mitigating that suffering: I believe I nurtured an attitude and perspective that the responsibility to care for the global populace belongs to every state, regardless of their ideal of justice. Questions for further research include whether or not such a model can be effective at other types of institutions. How important to our results is the Jesuit tradition of the three schools in this project? Students at our institutions were familiar with our common commitments, our institutional missions, and our pedagogies of engagement. All of our campuses emphasize creating “men and women for others,” the practices of discernment and reflection, and preferential concern for the poor and marginalized. This may mean that our population of students is more likely to relate to the goals of our project and the pedagogical strategies used to achieve them. Since students tend to self-select into JUHAN courses based on their interest in the idea of humanitarianism, how effective would this model be if it were applied only to required rather than elective courses (our assessed courses were a mix), used in courses from a wider array of disciplines, or taught at non-Jesuit institutions? Also, the degree to which we were able to provide students with the skills and tools they needed to develop a sense of agency differed across students. One student said, I think the class was a bit depressing at times because we often left class knowing a complex social issue yet without really finding ways to transform it. While another reflected from his/her own personal experience in saying, I was not someone who will go out to the streets and help homeless people because of my background story where some people fake their suffering in order to take advantage of people who had resources. Helping students to respond in productive ways to their own emotions and even their own experiences of marginalization, and providing them with the tools they need to meet the challenges of humanitarian work, are both areas that deserve further consideration. In sum, from the outset of our Teagle project, our decision to focus on a set of enduring questions has helped to integrate our cross-institutional collaboration on civic and moral engagement. They helped us learn from each other across campuses and geopolitical realities. These questions challenged faculty to rethink how they engage their disciplines and select socially engaged pedagogies. Faculty developed new pedagogies that enabled them and their students to encounter human suffering as part of their shared learning experience rather than maintaining a neutral distance. This transformed the classroom space, and student experiences 223

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in it. Students recognized both the physical barriers and imaginary borders that divide people from each other, and found a capacity for empathy for the desperation of others, as well as a new critical awareness of self, country, and world. They were able to commit individually and collectively to alleviate suffering and promote human dignity. This has challenged their priorities, nuanced their development of ethical commitments, and improved their readiness to make a difference in the world when it matters.

Notes 1 For more information, please see the JUHAN website, http://www.ajcunet.edu/juhan 2 One person did all of the coding of this data in order to maintain consistency. An open coding method was used, meaning that text was analyzed line-by-line and when similarities were found, each instance was compared with other instances within a given node before new items were included. 3 “Number of sources” refers to the number of responses that fell into a category, while “Number of responses” refers to the number of unique references to that category found across the sample. So, one “source” often contained multiple “responses” to a category. Fairfield University’s Institutional Review Board (IRB) approved this data collection under the protocol exempt (project ID 0276). Project partners at Georgetown University and the University of Central America, UCA, Nicaragua also received IRB approval from their institutions.

References ALNAP (2015). The state of the humanitarian system report. http://sohs.alnap.org/ Association of American Colleges and Universities (2012) A Crucible Moment: College Learning and Democracy’s Future. Washington, DC: AACU. www.aacu.org/sites/default/files/files/crucible/Crucible_508F.pdf Barnett, M. (2011). Empire of Humanity: A History of Humanitarianism. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Bonwell, C., & Eison, J. (1991). Active Learning: Creating Excitement in the Classroom. Washington DC: ASHE-Eric Higher Education Reports. http://files.eric.ed.gov/fulltext/ED336049.pdf Burkle, F. M., Martone, G., & Greenough, P.G. (2014). The changing face of humanitarian crises. Brown Journal of World Affairs, 20(2), 25–42. Burrell, S., Labonte, M., Siscar, A., & Martin, S. (2015). Collaborative learning and assessment in humanitarian studies. International Studies Perspectives, 16(2), 107–26. Davis-Manigaulte, J., Yorks, L., & Kasl, E. (2006). Expressive ways of knowing and transformative learning. In E. W. Taylor (Ed.), New Directions for Adult and Continuing Education (pp. 27–35). San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Dawes, J. (2007). That the World may Know: Bearing Witness to Atrocity. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Fassin, D. (2012). Humanitarian Reason: A Moral History of the Present. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Fetherston, B., & Kelly, R. (2007). Conflict resolution and transformative pedagogy. Journal of Transformative Education, 5(3), 262–85. Fink, L. D. (2003). Creating Significant Learning Experiences. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Held. V. (2006). The Ethics of Care: Personal, Political, Global. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Hooper, J. (2013). Pope Francis condemns global indifference to suffering. Guardian. July 8. www.the guardian.com/world/2013/jul/08/pope-francis-condemns-indifference-suffering Idiáquez Guevara, J. A. (2015). Suffering and solidarity: A challenge for Jesuit universities. JUHAN Workshop, University of Central America, Managua, Nicaragua. Aug. 5. Electronic copy. Immordino-Yang, M. H. (2013). Keynote speaker: Emotion and learning. University of Wyoming College of Education. Ellbogen Symposium on Teaching and Learning. www.youtube.com/watch? v=wgwy-iJWjYs Institute for Economics and Peace (2017). Global Peace Index 2017: Measuring Peace in a Complex World. http://visionofhumanity.org/app/uploads/2017/06/GPI17-Report.pdf Leatherman, J. (2011). Sexual Violence and Armed Conflict. Malden, MA: Polity Press.

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18 POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER AND COGNITIVE IMPERIALISM The lost roles of male Indigenous protectors and providers, and their effects on family Brian Rice In this chapter I reflect on my father and uncles who may have suffered from the effects of cognitive imperialism from my grandfather’s Indian residential school experiences and then went to war resulting in their post-traumatic stress disorder. What did these experiences have on their lives and subsequently members of their own families? Recently, I was on the academic advisory council as well as being an organizer and consultant for two of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission events concerning Indian residential boarding school survivors, one held in Winnipeg, Manitoba, and the other in Montreal, Quebec. I was also co-author of a chapter in Truth to Reconciliation that was handed to the Prime Minister of Canada during his 2009 apology to the survivors of Indian residential schools in Canada. I had never looked at the possible repercussions of residential school and then war on both my immediate family and myself and my cousins. I am hoping in this chapter to help the reader understand how the processes of cognitive imperialism have had an influence on the lives of Indigenous children, on first, second, and third generation family members of survivors who attended residential school and then had war- related trauma. For some in the Indigenous community these experiences are intertwined. My grandfather was Peter T. Rice, number 83, Manitouwaning Industrial School in the year 1908. We knew he attended Indian Residential School but we were not sure where until recently. I later found a Peter T. Rice enlisted as a member of Brock’s Rangers, the only all Indigenous Canadian Battalion in World War I. The fact that we have no personal record of his military service makes it difficult to validate whether it was he or someone with the same name. My father, Herbert J. Rice served in the first special-forces light infantry American Rangers in the United States (US) in World War II, where he received a silver star, two bronze stars and two purple hearts. He had enlisted at the age of 16 years of age in 1943 and would now be considered a child soldier. We were told that he lied about his age. During his time in the service, he spent nine months as a prisoner of war in Poland before escaping and joining the 82nd airborne as a drill sergeant for a brief period of time. He was then honorably discharged due to the effects of post-traumatic stress disorder. The story we were told is that he and his former captain while on 226

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a drinking binge came upon some officers who were bragging about their combat experiences and my father and his former captain decided to teach them a lesson about the realities of combat. These officers according to my father were braggarts who had never been to war. Although my father was honorably discharged, his captain was not and was so distraught over his treatment by the military that he threw his medals off the Peace Bridge in Buffalo. It took years of effort on the part of my father and others before he was posthumously exonerated and today there is a legion named after him in Buffalo, New York. Two of my other uncles both served in the 101st airborne division. One was in the 401 gliders and landed during the D-Day invasion and another was in the 502nd killed at the Battle of the Bulge just outside of Bastogne at Lambchamp, Belgium. All three brothers ended up wounded and casualties of war. Another brother served in the Royal Canadian Navy and another was in the Japan theatre as a US infantry soldier. The youngest later enlisted in the 82nd airborne at the close of the war. All six brothers were from Kahnawaké reserve, an Indigenous Mohawk community across from Montreal Quebec, but worked and lived in Buffalo, New York, as high steel ironworkers along with their parents. My grandmother was a four blue star and gold star mother for having four sons in the US military and losing one in battle. The US did not consider my uncle’s Canadian service in the navy during the war. My father and uncles were tough men. My father told me about their engaging in a fight with a bunch of marines while working somewhere in New York State and acquitting themselves quite well. As I was going through some records I discovered that prior to World War II my grandparents had lived on Elm Street in Toronto in 1923 where the present-day Eaton Chelsea Hotel resides. It was best known at the time as the Ward. Ironically, the hotel that is now there is where my son and I had often stayed at over the years when visiting family during Christmas. On the Canadian census of 1923, it refers to my grandparents as being Caucasian. I suspected it had to do with them finding an apartment at the time. Most Indigenous peoples in North America were still confined to their reservations in the US and their reserves in Canada. Although the laws were more liberal for Indians living in the east than in the west, finding a place to live for an Indigenous family was extremely difficult as it often is to this day. This was the first clue of something amiss, that after possibly enlisting for Canada, my grandfather would still have to lie about his heritage in order to find living accommodations. There is a chance, yet I cannot be sure, that my great grandfather had left my grandfather an orphan during the Quebec bridge collapse of 1907 where 38 Mohawks were killed and he became a ward of the state. The late nineteenth century saw the ironworker trade open up for Mohawk men and they became very skilled at it. My great uncle Peter S. Rice became famous for a 1930 photo called ironworkers at lunch sitting in the middle of a group of ironworkers on a beam 30 floors up high eating lunch out of a lunchbox. My father enlisted in the US military in 1943 and must have lied about his heritage as well, also putting down Caucasian on his military records. It made sense in that he was underage at the time and had to create a new identity in order to serve. However, it made me think that here they were fighting and putting their lives on the line, especially my father, who was fighting an enemy whose ideology was built on the extermination of undesirable races, and they had to hide their own heritage in order to do what ordinary citizens should be able to do in a free society and that’s be who they are without recrimination. I remember being told that when my grandmother walked into Montreal from Kahnawaké reserve she was told to walk on the street and not the sidewalk by white people living in Montreal. It should be noted that many Mohawks over the years have chosen to serve in the US military over the Canadian military because the US was better in terms of them earning their livelihood. I was told that when my father found work in Quebec, Canada, after the war, he was 227

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referred to as a savage. My father, as a discharged US soldier, was viewed by the people around him in Buffalo and elsewhere as a hero and received a commendation by the city of Buffalo upon his return from the war. On the commemoration he was referred to as A Yankee Fighting Hero. Even though my father was Mohawk from Canada, there was a certain sense of earned equality in Buffalo that he could not find in Canada because of his service. Although I cannot say for sure what effects residential school had on my grandfather or the rest of his family, I can say that my father left very young to join the service. He would struggle with alcoholism for the rest of his life and became negligent towards his wife and children. Although he was always gentle with us, some of my uncles became abusive towards their children and families. As we got older we put this down to their terrible experiences in war and there is truth to that supposition; however, this may have only been a part of the story? What interested me in writing this chapter is that I know each of them would have given their lives for their military comrades and in one case did, at the Battle of the Bulge in 1944. It was this discrepancy in terms of how they interacted and behaved with their families compared to the sacrifices they made for two countries that had not always treated Indigenous peoples well and the company of soldiers they went to war with that made me want to question why? As parents these brave men were all dysfunctional in their civilian lives to some degree. Was this in part due to the experiences my grandfather had while attending Indian residential school and not simply because of war? Educator Mary Battiste (1992) refers to the experiences Indigenous children had at residential school as “cognitive imperialism” (p. 37). She is referring to the effects that residential boarding schools had on the psyche of Indigenous children who attended them and the doubt ingrained in many about the viability of their societies and as a result the repercussions that have lasted to this day. Indigenous children suffered from the social modeling they received in residential schools and the colonial education forced upon them. As they grew older, often the price for this ended up being an internalized fear of anything that reminded them of their culture and identity. The purpose of the schools was to first pacify the children so they would never go to war against the colonizing society, and then turn them against any reminders of their former identity and especially those who continued on with their traditions. This included family members such as parents and particularly grandparents who may have held onto more knowledge about traditions to pass on to the next generations. This type of indoctrination may have resulted in some of my uncles who were second generation brutalizing their children in the most inconceivable ways. I never knew my father to be physically violent towards us yet at the same time he could never meet his commitments towards being central to a normal family life. As children we all revered my father and his military heroics and then suddenly, one day, he was gone. It would be seven years before we saw him again. In my case both had a profound effect on my own identity. Duran and Duran (1995) have written about the stages of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) that occurs within Indigenous families, and men in particular, due to the effects of colonization and the residential school experience (pp. 39–40). The second stage of PTSD they refer to as “warrior regression.” This means the only way to survive mentally and emotionally was to dissociate oneself from one’s Indigenous past. Family and community can become reminders of the loss and powerlessness one has as an Indigenous provider and protector. Joining the military is a way of reacquiring some of that status and power as there are few roles left in society for men to aspire to. It is this stage of PTSD that my father and uncles may have been exposed to. Another way of feeling elevated from the trauma of loss that one has experienced is to disassociate from relationships with one’s own people. Many Indigenous men who came from the pre- and post-World War II generation viewed relationships with a non-Indigenous 228

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woman as a form of elevation of status into the dominant controlling society. This was not just among those in the military but also the government-imposed leadership of Indigenous peoples. This is not to say that marriage was not sometimes about love, rather it may have played into the choices Indigenous men made in finding a partner. My father was a proud American as much or more than he was a proud Mohawk. He met my mother on a beach in Kahnawaké after the war. It is not to say that he was not attracted to my mother of Finnish decent or did not love her, only that during that time period Indigenous men often sought out non-Indigenous women as partners. It was also a time when inter-racial partnerships were frowned upon by the dominant society so there were risks involved, especially if you were a non-Indigenous woman. Today that has changed as many in Indigenous society feel threatened by inter-racial partnerships and often frown upon them. My father’s heroism in war helped alleviate some of the prejudice they would have faced but not all. My father could not escape the effects of war, identity, and even education, and suffered from alcoholism for much of his remaining life. In some ways, when my father left us in 1963, I lost my place in Mohawk society along with my brothers and sister and we became more integrated in the dominant society, which we became almost exclusively exposed to. Visits to relatives became less frequent and although I tried to maintain a relationship with them, my personal experiences continued to lead me further away. When my Dad reentered our lives in 1970 after a period of sobriety, perhaps I was less prepared for it than I thought at the time. I was 15 years old and had just begun experiencing my teenage years. When my Dad left seven years before, I realize today that I had felt somehow emasculated. I could not understand why I felt so insecure about my masculinity because I had grown up having a father who was a war hero. On the one hand, living up to the military standards my father had achieved seemed impossible, especially in light of the unpopular Vietnam war at the time. My mother had to take on the role of both parents and bring up four children on her own with the help of my grandmother. My mother took some of the brunt of resentment from some of her children while trying to fill the role of both parents. I believe today that it had little to do with her, but in my case from the void I felt not having a male protector and role model in the family. Meanwhile, my father remained the hero in my mind even though he did little to fill that role with us. This situation is common for minority inner-city youth, especially African and Indigenous Americans or Canadians. Many search for a place or space to belong in. Often it means looking in places that may have negative consequences for them and their families. With the brief return of our father, a change began to occur in me that would have serious repercussions for the next seven years. My father had found a semblance of sobriety by that time. However, the father I wanted to emulate was the conceptualized war hero and drunken brawler. How could someone like myself live up to his standard? The neighborhood we grew up in was a primarily multi-ethnic English-speaking working-class minority and a Frenchspeaking nationalistic majority that resented anyone that did not speak their language. There were always tensions between the French- and English-speaking residents of the area. This filtered down to the youth who coalesced with their own as a form of protection and resistance from the other. It was at times exciting and I wanted to be fully engaged in it. I wished more than anything I could be like my father and not be afraid of anything –or so I thought. For a few moments in 1972, in Concordia University’s seventh-floor cafeteria in Montreal, I tried to emulate what I thought my father was and, for the next nine years, tried to live up to that moment and reputation and, except for a few brief times in fights with biker gangs, was never able recapture it again. I was still in high school at the time and had attended a university beer bash. A university student tried to kick at me and I smashed him and chased him out of the cafeteria as three bouncers tried to hold me back. I loved every minute of it. For a few moments 229

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in my own mind I was my father. I would find out soon after that there is not much honor in violence and ensuing addiction. However, I began to make detrimental choices that seemed natural for me. A piece that was missing was being found in the wrong places. Through his neglect and without him knowing it, my father had helped instill in me a false understanding of what it meant to be a provider and protector. What I did not understand at the time was that, in the past, the main duty of Indigenous men was not to go to war, but rather to preserve peace and order in their communities and if necessary to help protect them if threatened. They had to ensure that social order was kept intact. Out west on the prairies, these male protectors of tradition sometimes dispensed justice by destroying the possessions of any person who put themselves before the needs of the community. This could occur for infractions pertaining to hunting such as the scaring off of game that might result in starvation for their people by an act of greed. If the person showed remorse, the male societies would replace the destroyed possessions with their own, making the perpetrator wealthier then before. Ostracism by peers and community was always considered one of the harshest punishments (Mails, 1973, p. 44). In fact in many Indigenous societies in the Americas there is no word for warrior. For instance, Okiijiida is an Ojibwa word that translates best as “brave hearted.” It symbolizes those who would sacrifice themselves on behalf of the family and community. Rotiskenrenke:té is a Mohawk word meaning, “they carry the bones of the ancestors.” In other words they are the bearers and defenders of the continuance of the customs and knowledge of the people. Among the Plains Cree, those who distinguished themselves by brave acts became known as Kihtockinikiwak “Worthy Young Men.” These were men and in some cases women who were both providers and protectors, and who placed their lives on the line for their families and communities over anything else. Mails (1972, p. 550) notes that there were no armies during pre-colonial times and most Indigenous conflict was confined to small clashes of men. Women were sometimes involved in the defense and political decisionmaking of the communities. Missionaries often misunderstood this role as they came from societies where women were not considered persons militarily, politically, or even legally until the 20th century. During conflicts between Indigenous societies, hand-to-hand combat prevailed as the primary means of defense. Even though there were some incidents where up to a hundred or more persons were killed, most of these battles occurred when Indigenous societies were forced to relocate onto lands inhabited by others in areas of limited resources due to encroachment by settler squatters and colonial military forces from areas that had already been ethnically cleansed of its Indigenous inhabitants. Indigenous leadership in both the east and west was often divided between civil and war chiefs. This meant that during times of peace all members of the society had to adhere to the wisdom of their civil leaders. It was only during times of crisis that authority reverted back to war leaders. Once the crises passed the war leaders had to relinquish any authority that they had. In many Indigenous societies, the women were asked to council first, because they looked after the community and were considered more able to make decisions that were not rash (Mails, 1973, pp. 43–4). Most importantly, the best interests of the family and community were always placed ahead of the wishes of any one individual. In comparison to the many colonial wars in the Americas that took hundreds and even thousands of lives by competing colonizing nations, these battles were minor in comparison. Over a half a million men died in the American Civil War alone for instance. That was part of the dilemma many of these Indigenous protectors faced because, when the colonial wars ended, they ended up fighting an enemy that could sacrifice a half million of its own people in a conflict against another. What was killing 300 Indigenous civilians at places like Wounded Knee to them? 230

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From the 17th into the 19th century, Indigenous men were portrayed as warriors, braves, and in particular savages that were to be pacified and controlled. In the 1776 American Declaration of Independence, Indigenous peoples are referred to as barbarous and savage; especially, those who were defending their homelands (Declaration of Independence, 1776). It was an excuse to take Indigenous lands without payment or consent. Previous to the American Revolutionary War, the 13 English colonies were incensed that King George’s 1763 Royal Proclamation forbade them from acquiring lands west of the Allegany Mountains without Crown representation. Some began moving west regardless, establishing settlements that resulted in conflict with the Indigenous inhabitants (Graymont, 1972, p. 49). When the American Revolutionary War ended, the boundaries between the US and British North America were set at the 48th parallel and then later solidified after the War of 1812. Lands that did not belong to either nation and that had belonged to Indigenous peoples for thousands of years were claimed by both nations as their own. Only when Indigenous peoples could no longer defend their lands did the two nations renege on any promises they had made towards their Indigenous allies in their retaining a homeland. In 1867, the Canadian Federal government replaced the British North American government. The policy of the new government was the continuance of the pacification and the marginalization of Indigenous societies in order to acquire more land. Often this was done by treaty and then coercion if needed in order to ensure the safe settlement by Euro-Canadian Christian settlers. The key difference in treaty making between the US and Canada was that the Americans often forced treaties upon the Indigenous peoples after conflict while the Canadians made treaties before conflict, with force used as a threat if Indigenous societies did not comply. Both countries made promises in treaties that were never kept. However, the end result was to be the same and perhaps best exemplified by Harold Cardinal (1969) who wrote, “In the United States the only good Indian was a dead Indian while in Canada the only good Indian was a non-Indian” (p. 1). By the mid-to-late nineteenth century as most Indigenous societies in the east had either been dispersed or in some cases exterminated, Indigenous protectors and providers out west capitulated to the superior forces of the American military and were herded onto reservations. Over 70 Indigenous leaders were arrested and incarcerated, including Chief Spotted Tail of the Lakota and Geronimo of the Apaché. Geronimo had been promised that if he surrendered he would only serve two years in prison (Brown, 1972, pp. 383–4). Instead he and some of his followers would languish in various prisons and detention camps for some 26 years. The most notable of these penal institutions was a predecessor to the present-day prison in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, an old Spanish Fortress in Florida that was later renamed Fort Marion. By the 1870s, Indigenous leaders from the west were being handcuffed and shackled and then shipped by train in cattle cars to the prison where they spent years of deprivation and torture at the hands of the guards. Only after they had been broken, pacified, and reeducated were they allowed to return to the reservations that were set up for their people, which were places to concentrate different societies in order to open up their lands to white settlement (Glancy, 2012, p. 1). One of those in charge of overseeing the prison was Colonel Richard Pratt. Pratt, believing that Indigenous societies could only be redeemed from savagery if their members were caught young enough, convinced and coerced some of the now pacified leaders to give up their children. Pratt created residential boarding schools for these children in the US where they would learn to be civilized and educated in the white man’s ways. The most infamous and well known was Carlisle Indian Industrial School in Pennsylvania. Upon their arrival to Carlisle, the children had their hair cut off, then were dressed in military attire, and would be subjected to harsh discipline. Pratt (1892) referred to the practice as “killing the Indian to save the man” (cited in 231

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Prucha, 1973, pp. 260–71). Imagine the trauma these children faced in having not only to have their hair cut off, as hair was sacred to many Indigenous North Americans, but being forced to wear the uniform of the soldiers who in many cases had recently killed, removed, or incarcerated members of their families? The Canadian connection to the Carlisle story is that, in 1879, Flood Davin was sent by the Government of Canada to report on the success of the school (Titley, 1986, p. 76). Indian industrial boarding schools like Carlisle became the template for the residential schools in Canada where thousands of young Indigenous youth were subjected to the worst kind of abuses perpetrated by their overseers. During their time at these schools, they were subjected to the process of cognitive imperialism. Children were punished for any behavior that remotely resembled the traditional image, from dress to being allowed to speak their own language. The result was an internalization of hatred for anything that reminded them of their cultural identity including a distorted view of what was their true tradition and history in their role as community and family protectors. The Christian clergy who oversaw the administration of these schools taught about the virtue of sexual abstinence while in many instances they physically and sexually abused the children. My grandfather attended one such school when there was a 50 percent mortality rate in the schools in Canada, and the sexual and physical violence toward the children was rampant. What he experienced we will never know. During World War I, Indigenous men in both the US and Canada, many of whom had attended residential boarding schools, were enlisting or being conscripted into the Canadian or American militaries, and were no longer fighting solely on behalf of their families and communities. These former first and second generation students of Indian residential boarding schools were prime recruits for the military as the pacification was directed only towards white Canadian and American Christians, and not peoples of other societies, beliefs, or races. Plus, their residential school experience made them disciplined through a rigorous work regimen as well as emotionally stunted, never having had the experience of familial love growing up. Several questions still baffle me to this day about how much my grandfather suffered from cognitive imperialism as a result of his experiences in Indian residential school. Was that passed on to my father and uncles? Why were my father and uncles dysfunctional as parents? How did their own family experiences affect my own upbringing, and that of my brothers and sister? When it comes to their experiences in war, their dysfunctional behavior is easier to measure than placing the blame on my grandfather’s residential school experience, as it is still an unknown. I know upon leaving the military my father was an experienced killer, having being a marksman in the war. I had heard stories that he might have taken some of those acquired skills into civilian life, yet we will never know for sure. He told me once he had been asked by the mafia to do work for them but had declined. If he did, it never made him rich because when he was not on an ironworking job, he lived for a time on the streets and hand to mouth until he got sober and another ironworking job became available. However, one uncle who served but never saw any action was one of the perpetrators of violence towards his children; therefore, there had to be more to it than just serving in the military and going to war. Traditionally, Mohawk and other Indigenous societies did not use any type of corporal punishment on their children. In fact Christian clergy saw this as a form of neglect. Punishment by Christians was usually harsh and even worse if you were Indigenous. One wonders if this is the reason so many non-Indigenous captives never wanted to leave their adoptive Indigenous family? When my English ancestor Edmond Rice went searching for his children Timothy and Silas, they did not want to return even though their own brother Nahor had been killed during a raid that saw them captured by Kahnawaké Mohawks in 1704, in Westborough, Massachusetts 232

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(Hensley, 2016, p. 66), Even after returning on his own, Timothy never remained with his original family. There are countless captivity accounts written similar to those of the Rice children. Both the British and Americans made the return of captives a condition for peace. Many did not want to return when given a choice and were hidden or forced to return when Indigenous societies were coerced into giving them up. Indigenous lifestyles were synonymous with freedom that went beyond a ballot box. Both men and women made decisions equally. Leaders were chosen by consensus and their power was derived from their people. In Mohawk society, the women held onto the title of the men and through the consent of the clan mothers, they could remove the leaders from their positions of power if they did not do the will of the people. All decisions had to be decided by both men and women. Divorce was easily attainable. There was no coercion to participate in war. Red Jacket, a Seneca leader was said to have run from the battlefield when he did go to war (Graymont, 1972, pp. 215–16). However, he was such an eloquent speaker that both Indigenous and non-Indigenous persons alike revered him. Indigenous children had much more liberty than non-Indigenous children. Even homosexuals had equal rights and were part of the fabric of most Indigenous societies. All of the elements of a democratic modern society existed long before peoples from Europe arrived in the Americas. In fact, Indigenous societies influenced some of the societal reformations happening in the Americas during the 18th and 19th centuries that would help develop our present-day modern society. It is not a wonder that captives adopted in did not want to leave for heavy-handed punishments and restrictions that were a part of the so-called European Christian civilized society. It was these very same freedoms that the Christian run and administered Indian residential institutions tried to prohibit in favor of a harsh disciplined and controlled environment. I had never heard of my grandfather being violent in any way to my father or his brothers and sister. Therefore, it makes it difficult to evaluate how much of an effect the residential boarding school experience had on his and my grandmother’s children. That is the real issue with cognitive imperialism and how it influences modern Indigenous families as there are sometimes few concrete answers and some of the seeds of doubt remain. Yet, my father and uncles remained dysfunctional as parents towards their own children. The one thing I do know is that they were never brought up with any Mohawk traditions that exist today due to the cultural revival that began to take place in the 1960s. However, unlike many Indigenous peoples today, they had a good grasp of the Mohawk language. As a community, Kahnawaké was predominately Catholic from its inception in 1670 and has gone through a cultural revival of its own. The youth today are becoming more immersed in their cultural traditions, ironically in part by way of a modern education system. How Mohawks viewed themselves during my father’s time in the 1940s and 1950s was very different then it is today. I have had opportunities to participate in Mohawk and other Indigenous traditions that my father or uncles did not have. That became a part of my own recovery from alcoholism and addiction, although not exclusively. There were other factors involved such as self-help programs and a willingness to change. One wonders had my father and uncles known more about their traditions, would it have helped them in their own recovery? Would it have made them better family protectors? I wish that my father had lived when traditional chief Jake Thomas was reciting the Kaienaré: kowa “Great Law of Peace,” an oral tradition that bound the Rotinonshonni including the Mohawk together and united in peace, some many centuries ago. I believe that they would have needed more than traditions to overcome their childhood and wartime experiences; however, it would have contributed to their recovery. Before my Dad passed away, he was on his own spiritual journey. Some of it was Indigenous, yet it mostly 233

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involved other spiritual traditions. There were wounds from family and war that he could not overcome on his own. As a participant in traditional Indigenous ceremony and self-help group recovery, there is a fellowship that occurs among participants of both. Many youth are struggling with their own issues and often it has to do with not having male protectors and providers present in their lives. Gangs, violence, and addiction are sometimes the result. Today, most traditional Indigenous ceremony is about healing. Even those ceremonies that were once used to prepare for war are now participated in for the benefit of others. The unification that occurs among participants can be healing in itself. Ironically as parents, and in spite of having a non-participating father in our lives, we have all ensured that our own children have been taken care of. In part, this has to do with a mother who put her children’s needs first. In my case, it required a personal transformation that allowed me to have a better understanding of what it means to be a true role model, provider, and family protector.

References Battiste, M. (1986). Micmac literacy and cognitive assimilation. In J. Barmen, Y. Herbert & D. McCaskell (Eds.), Indian Education in Canada (pp. 23–44). Vancouver, BC: UBC Press. Brown, D. (1972). Bury my Heart at Wounded Knee. Toronto, ON: Bantam Books Cardinal, H. (1969). The Unjust Society. Edmonton, AB: Hurtig Publishers Ltd. Declaration of Independence (1776). Philadelphia, PA: US History. www.ushistory.org/declaration/ document Duran, E., & Duran, B. (1995). Native American Post-Colonial Psychology. Albany, NY: SUNY Press Glancy, D. (2012). Fort Marion Prisoners and the Trauma of Native Education. Omaha, NB: University of Nebraska Press Graymont, B. (1972). The Iroquois in the American Revolution. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press Hensley, J. (2016). In this Strange Soil. Amherst, MA: Levellers Press. Jennings, F. (1976). The Invasion of America. New York: Paragon Press. Mails, T. (1972). Mystic Warriors of the Plains. New York: Doubleday Press. Mails, T. (1973). Dog Soldiers of the Plains. New York: Marlowe & Co. Pratt, R. H. (1892). Official Report of the Nineteenth Annual Conference of Charities and Correction (pp. 46–59). Reprinted in F. P. Prucha (Ed.) (1973). The advantages of mingling indians with whites. In Americanizing the American Indians: Writings by the “Friends of the Indian” 1880–1900 (pp. 260–71). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Titley, B. (1986). A Narrow Vision. Vancouver, BC: UBC Press. Turner, F. (1973). Across the Medicine Line. Toronto, ON: McClelland & Stewart.

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19 RELIGION AND PEACEFUL RELATIONS Negotiating the sacred Nathan Funk and Yelena Gyulkhandanyan The tendency to bypass religion, to undervalue religious peace leadership, or to leave religious issues for last represents a non-trivial shortcoming of many track one as well as track two peace processes. The absence of viable efforts to “negotiate the sacred” evidently plays a role in shaping many complex conflicts. But how can religious values be incorporated into peace negotiations organized around more tangible conflict factors? How can groups in conflict negotiate over places that are sacred to at least one side, and sometimes to both sides? Is compromise even possible? This chapter focuses on contested sacred sites, examining diverse views on scenarios that are commonly regarded as insolvable. Careful examination of these cases can shed light on challenges and opportunities for the cultivation of peace where religious values are at stake. Conflicts over sacred sites pose distinctive challenges and are intertwined with larger identity issues. Transforming these conflicts becomes conceivable when we take the religious nature of the claims seriously. Cases of intentional dialogue over holy places suggest opportunities to deepen conversations about relationships, worldviews, narratives, and shared spiritual and civic values that most communities wish to embody, including hospitality and respect. Tapping such common values can provide opportunities to bridge differences and bring to light the shared significance of sacred sites among diverse communities of worshippers.

Sacred sites and conflict Sacred sites are a fundamental component of faith practice for most, if not all, religious groups in the world. They are focal points of people’s faith, deeply intertwined with identity and worldview. Sacred sites embody a diversity of forms and characteristics. They can be natural sites such as mountains, forests, and caves or sites of intricate architectural design. They often have a unique mythological and historic narrative that provides a basis for their significance to religious followers as places that surpass the physical realm and connect believers to the realm of the sacred (Mircea, 1996). As such, they play an important role in shaping the social environment that surrounds them. Sacred sites are places of sanctity and worship of the divine yet can also be epicenters of intergroup competition and violence (Hassner, 2009). Most of the academic literature on sacred sites and conflict focuses on this second propensity, offering generally pessimistic conclusions. 235

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First, scholars note that the behavior of parties with respect to sacred space is an indicator of the overall quality of intergroup relations. Chad F. Emmett (2009) analyzes how choices concerning the location and construction of churches and mosques reflect the levels of conflict and tolerance between Muslims and Christians, suggesting, “a typology of 10 different manifestations of intolerance and tolerance – from the destruction of sacred sites to the sharing of such sites” (p. 452). This analysis can be extended to relations among other religious groups too. Attacks on sacred sites are attacks on the collective identity of a perceived adversary group, and loss of a sacred site is a loss of an important aspect of that identity. For instance, in the wake of the 2015 terror attacks in Paris, threats and vandalism against mosques reportedly increased in Canada and the US (BBC, 2015). Attacks on sacred sites often foreshadow more violence, as they demonstrate an intention to target a specific group, often indiscriminately (Satha-Anand & Urbain, 2013). There are many examples of competing claims over sacred sites that have exacerbated or entrenched intergroup conflict. The Israeli–Palestinian conflict, the locus of which is the Holy City, exemplifies how deeply sacred sites are embedded at the core of group identity and demonstrates the scale of violence that can be unleashed as people vie for control. India, a country with an incredible plurality of cultures and religions, also has its share of intercommunal tensions, such as the destruction of Ayodhya’s Babri Masjid in 1992. In North America, the historic destruction and marginalization of Indigenous cultures has led to the continued desecration of Indigenous sacred sites, often driven by a clash of values in which industrial expansion takes precedence over preservation of natural environments. However, relations between religious groups can exist at more tolerant and amicable levels. The greatest gesture of tolerance and compromise between religious groups involves restricting the construction of one’s place of worship to accommodate the other (Emmett, 2009). While other profound forms of respect and appreciation are demonstrably possible, including the maintenance of shared sacred sites for the benefit of different communities, Emmett’s (2009) approach underscores the multitude of outcomes that can pertain to sacred sites. Sacred sites can further both conflict and peace, as their presence can strain relations between groups and intensify conflict, or become “an asset for fostering social plurality and diversity” (Ferrari, 2014, p. 8). Second, scholars have concerns over the importance of claims to sacred places and sites in nationalism. Sacred places are at the center of narratives about origins, and can provide national communities with an “axis mundi” around which their world turns. For many communities, religious and national aspects of identity are intricately intertwined. Groups imbue particular historical events and people with meaning and significance, developing a communal memory manifesting in a “sacred identity,” which can be both religious and national (Barkan & Barkey, 2015, p. 5). An influential framework for understanding conflicts over sacred sites and their significance to group identity and intergroup relations is the theory of antagonistic tolerance purporting that history has multiple layers. Competition between religious groups begins when one group arrives in a region where the other is already established. At the beginning there may be surfacelevel tolerance between the groups, yet there is underlying discomfort and intolerance. This state of affairs may continue for considerable periods of time, as long as one group maintains dominance over the other or the power balance between groups remains stable. However, when one group challenges the other violence often ensues, potentially resulting in a reversal of power relations and a transformation of religious sites that fall under the control of the newcomer group. Control over these sacred sites then becomes closely linked to the political hegemony of the now-dominant group over its counterpart (Hayden, 2013). 236

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In light of such realities, and the tendency for disputes over sacred sites to be rooted in multiple layers of history, scholars attribute deep intractability or, at worst, non-negotiability to sites that become politically contested. Sacred sites, they argue, are easily politicized and do not lend themselves to compromise. Claims to champion the defence of a sacred site can generate a powerful emotional response because they appeal to a sense of threatened identity, to an essential part of the communal self. Political actors often use claims to sacred sites to increase their support base in times of conflict, which can result in a heightened political and religious significance of the sites (Breger et al., 2010, p. 13). This leads to a greater willingness to engage in conflict and decreased willingness to achieve a compromise. Because the sacred is ipso facto non-negotiable, and because sacred values cannot be compromised, identity politics become frozen. The symbolic stakes are either too high or too useful to leaders who may really be interested in other matters (Smith, 2000). Third, those sacred places are inherently indivisible (Hassner, 2003). Unlike more tangible goods, they cannot be divided up without losing their essential character. Thus, one cannot expect people to feel happy about dividing a church, mosque, temple, or synagogue in half, allowing one party to keep a 50 percent share of the old space or structure and inviting the other party to do as it pleases with the other half. Similarly, one cannot construct a pipeline through a traditional Native American burial ground without fundamentally altering the character of the place. Though emphasizing the resistance of sacred claims to bargaining and compromise, the literature on contested sacred sites is not univocal. To counter the notion of non-negotiability some scholars have advanced a theory of sacred value, which acknowledges challenges yet suggests that negotiation is possible, particularly within a process that acknowledges the sacred significance of sites for disputants and does not try to negotiate as if these qualities did not exist. Those that hold sacred values prefer solutions that involve mutual compromise over sacred values to other possible solutions (Ginges et al., 2006). If both sides give up something sacred, there is greater satisfaction than there will be if the solution is purely secular and does not acknowledge the sacred values. Consequently, where conflicts involve something that is sacred to both sides, there is an opportunity to acknowledge this sacred value and then seek compromises in which each party makes concessions that are in some sense comparable. It offers less guidance for situations in which the conflict involves something sacred to one side only. Such is the reality when advocates of settler-led development confront traditional Indigenous claims to sacred territory.

Learning from positive cases Although the literature on sacred sites and conflict provides insight into broad patterns of contention, it offers only limited guidance for practitioners seeking to cultivate peaceful relations. A more intentional survey of cases, however, with special attention to more positive or conciliatory outcomes, suggests that “negotiating the sacred” can be an important component of a broader peacebuilding strategy. These positive examples suggest possibilities for conflict transformation through respect for the intrinsic character of sacred claims, through mutual accommodation of divergent claims, or through reliance on broader norms for navigating the conflict.

Canada There has been a series of cases in Canada where the value of sacred sites has been recognized by state institutions. For instance, the Federal Review Panel halted the Ur-Energy Inc. Screech Lake Uranium Exploration Project on an Akaitcho sacred site in the Northwest Territories in 1997. Although uranium exploration on the Akaitcho land was not found to have significantly 237

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negative environmental consequences, the Review Panel concluded that industrial development on the land would affect its spiritual value and would be harmful to the cultural tradition of the Akaitcho people (Graben, 2014). In another case, the joint Federal-provincial Review Panel in British Columbia highlighted adverse effects on spiritual values as a key ground for halting the Kemess Copper-Gold Mine. There are also examples of collaborative arrangements over sacred sites in Canada negotiated between religious groups, arrangements made through the common understanding and value of the sacred. Stoney Knoll (Pwashemow Chakatnow) is a sacred site to the Young Chippewayan Band, where the First Nations band held ceremonies and prayers for centuries. The site, situated near Laird, Saskatchewan, is also a home to local Mennonite and Lutheran communities, encompassing a Lutheran church and a graveyard within its territory. In 1876, the land was turned into a reservation through Treaty 6 between the Canadian Government and the Young Chippewayan Band. However, due to numerous factors, including starvation, the band was compelled to leave the reserve to seek more liveable conditions elsewhere. In 1897, the government repossessed the land without the knowledge and consent of the band, and allocated it for settlement by Mennonites, and later also German Lutherans. Upon learning about the history of the land upon which they had settled, both Christian communities began to support the descendants of the Young Chippewayan Band in their efforts to gain recognition of their dispossessed land and receive compensation from the Canadian government. In 2006, members of all three communities, Young Chippewayans, Mennonites, and Lutherans, joined together at Stoney Knoll to commemorate Treaty 6 in an act of reconciliation and healing (Lutheran World Federation, 2015; MCC, 2015). The gathering culminated in the signing of a Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) titled Declaration of Harmony and Justice. This MOU (2006) begins with a common acknowledgment of the land’s spiritual significance, with the first point stating: “We are deeply grateful for the goodness of the Creator and the blessings which gave us this land and which give and sustain all our lives.” Through the MOU, all three signatories pledged to work together for the common wellbeing of their communities. The above examples demonstrate willing steps to acknowledge and show respect for the sacred values of others, even when one party holds a profoundly different worldview. Demonstrating respect for the sacred values of others, for instance by halting a profitable industrial project, is a step towards reconciling relations. As sacred values are deeply connected to fundamental markers of identity, respecting the sacred values of others can communicate respect for the other and acknowledgment of their equal rights to religion, spirituality, culture, and nationhood.

India While desecration or destruction of sacred places is not unknown in the history of the Indian subcontinent, instances of shared sacred space are far from unknown. Through anthropological research, Kathinka Frøystad (2012) shows that members of diverse religious groups attend Sufi shrines and many Hindu worshippers integrate traditional practices of other faith groups in India in their rituals. These phenomena result in a web of religious practices that connect different groups of believers in one geographical locale. The author provides an example of a dargha in Mahemdabad, a town in Gujarat, which houses an image of a Hindu saint beside a portrait of its founding pir. The dargha also exhibits a design of the “Om” Hindu mantra next to a crescent moon and a sacred passage from the Quran. In further demonstration of harmonious community relations around shared sacred sites in India, Anna Bigelow (2012) presents multiple cases, one of which is the shrine of Haider 238

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Shaykh, a Muslim saint who is looked upon by locals as the founder of Malerkotla, a town in Punjab. Despite the diversity in the forms of worship – for instance many Sikhs and Hindus refer to Haider Shaykh, as God while Muslims do not – the site remains an exemplary place of interreligious harmony. Bigelow (2012) credits the religious leaders within each religious community in promoting respect and openness for the traditions of the other groups. These cases offer an alternative vision of diversity in India in light of instances of ethnic and religious tensions. Shared deities and interreligious worship show that religious coexistence can occur organically when groups of people share land and an interwoven history, challenging the antagonistic tolerance model. Other cases show that community members and leaders can play a decisive role in outcomes at sacred sites – whether they will provide grounds for competition and antagonism, or points where diverse beliefs and values meet and coexist.

Cyprus Though Cyprus remains a place of separation between Muslim and Christian populations, progress has been made during recent years in the religious track of the peace process. An initiative, established in 2009 under the direction of the Swedish Embassy, seeks to provide a channel for involving religious leaders in efforts towards forgiveness and reconciliation, as well as for addressing concerns of religious groups including freedom of religion, right to worship, and right to religious property. Religious leaders among the Greek Orthodox, Muslim, Maronite Catholic, and Armenian Orthodox faiths are jointly involved in the initiative. During the course of negotiations the leaders expressed agreement that sites of worship must be protected from vandalism, looting, and purposeful neglect. They also recognized believers’ rights to access religious sites and practice their faith in these contexts (Eskidjian, 2013). In October 2013, the initiative made important headway when an agreement was reached to permit Muslim and Greek Orthodox religious leaders to travel across the Green Line that separates the northern Turkish Cypriot and southern Greek Cypriot regions of the island. Reciprocal respect and goodwill towards sacred sites have been documented by Saifi and Yüceer (2013), even in the absence of a common religious worldview, in their study of how three churches in Northern Cyprus are used by the Turkish Muslim population that settled in the area after the partition of Cyprus. When the island was divided, the majority Greek population fled to the South, while the Turkish population from the South fled to the North. With its devotees gone, the Agios Georgios Basilica became a dance centre, the Agios Georgios Church became a women’s association centre, and the Agioi Sergios Church was turned into a kindergarten. These sites were not used for religious purposes. The new groups using them nonetheless convey respect towards that which is sacred to others, modeling what Saifi and Yüceer (2013) describe as an implied empathy born through similar experiences of loss, together with hopes of one day returning to their own sacred sites. This respect is shown through regular maintenance of the buildings without making any permanent changes. For example, when a church was used as a dance studio, the new occupants used freestanding mirrors instead of mirrors mounted on walls. Even as Cyprus remains divided, facing setbacks in the political process of peacebuilding, religious leaders are making headway to reconcile their communities and lower barriers between them (UNHCR, 2015). Gestures of respect towards the sacred sites of another, even while occupying them, show that empathy and compassion can be natural responses when people are confronted with mutual losses. Even when religious forms are different for two groups, shared humanity can enable understanding and respect for the meaning and significance that others attach to their own unique spaces and symbols. 239

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Israel and Palestine Turning to the Middle East, the Tomb of Samuel is an example of harmonious relations between Jewish and Muslim worshippers sharing a sacred site (Reiter & Natsheh, 2008). The site, located in a village north of Jerusalem, has traditionally been venerated as a burial ground of the biblical Prophet Samuel. Both Jews and Muslims have historically worshipped in the same shrine located where the tomb is, praying and leaving votive offerings. Nabi Samu‘il, a mosque, was built atop the location in the twelfth century (Yazbak, 2010). Throughout history, the area where the tomb is located experienced a significant share of violent conflict, particularly during the Crusades, the 1948 Arab–Israeli War, and the 1967 SixDay War. As the land underwent numerous political transitions, the sacred site’s rules of access and ownership changed many times. During British rule in Palestine, both Jews and Muslims could access the site. When the land fell under Jordanian rule for nineteen years, Jews lost their access. After 1967, Jewish worshippers regained access to the site once again. Presently, the site encompasses the mosque, controlled by the Muslim Waqf, and a synagogue built in the cave underneath. In 1994 there was a rise in vandalism and violence at the site triggered by the killing of Muslims in Hebron. The IDF Civil Administration took control of the site to restore order, creating a fence around it. However, in 2004 both the fence and the military personnel left the site because the threat of tensions and violence receded. Records show that the relations between all communities of worshippers at the site are at a state of peace (Reiter, 2010). “Sacred places are living entities and as such are in constant evolution,” in terms of the transformative nature of sacred sites through time, history, and political developments (Ferrari, 2014, p. 2). The history surrounding the Tomb of Samuel demonstrates that it is possible to change rules and norms surrounding access to holy places. Though it was once a place of competition and conflict, the site is now an exemplary case study of religious harmony and an enclave of coexistence. Reviewing these more positive examples is as instructive as studying better-known negative cases, and demonstrates the existence of a continuum of possible outcomes with respect to conflicts over sacred sites. Despite challenges, such conflicts can accommodate positive frames within which making space for the other or honoring another’s claim becomes an opportunity to practice one’s own sacred values and affirm one’s own sacred narrative or at the very least one’s civic responsibility. A number of different cases suggest that parties who choose to enact an ethic of hospitality or respect can help to bring about amicable solutions. In situations where two or more parties have intentionally worked together, they have found ways to construct rules that enable coexistence, together with an implied or explicitly stated ethic for navigating plural claims to sacred sites. Although it remains arguable that some contexts may be more intensely politicized and resistant to faith-based mutuality than others, positive cases suggest the possibility that norms of coexistence can be intentionally (re)constructed through dialogue and efforts to foster positive social interaction.

International norms and mechanisms Internationally, issues of contested sacred place and space have long been recognized as significant, yet responses to them are evolving in intriguing ways. There is growing recognition of the need for complementary movements along two levels: (1) international norm construction, and (2) local initiatives that ground norms of mutual respect and reciprocity in specific contexts, histories, and traditions. Within these broad levels, there exist a wide array of approaches and initiatives, varying in the meanings they ascribe to sacred sites and their visions for preservation. 240

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On the level of international norms, there are two main trajectories to the protection of sacred sites. One is the preservation of physical structures and places. This protection is mandated through the preservation of universal heritage sites on part of the United Nations Education, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), as well as international conventions to protect sites of religious and cultural importance in times of conflict. Some examples include the 1874 Brussels Convention which forbids acts of war against religious institutions, the 1899 Convention with Respect to the Laws and Customs of War on Land, and the 1954 Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict. The second international avenue of sacred site protection is through individual rights to religious freedom, which involve the right to places of worship (Ferrari, 2014). Apart from sacred site protection as part of human heritage, there is recognition that sacred sites must be protected as part of human rights, namely the right to religious freedom, which encompasses both intangible and tangible characteristics of faith practice (Ferrari, 2014). The UN Human Rights Committee has upheld people’s right to exercise their faith through places of worship and sacred sites, making reference to Article 18 of the 1966 International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights and its mandate for protecting an individual’s right “to manifest his religion or belief in worship, observance, practice and teaching” (International Covenant, n.d.). Indigenous sacred sites also have a variety of systems for their protection. In countries with large Indigenous populations such as Canada, the US, New Zealand, and Australia, the protection of Indigenous sacred sites is administrated through domestic initiatives and legal mechanisms. In both Canada and the US, Indigenous sacred sites are legally protected. However, their protection is not guaranteed, and is weighed against public interest (Breger et al., 2010). At the same time, there are multiple international conventions and initiatives that seek to protect Indigenous sacred sites such as the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UN Declaration, 2008), which calls upon states to safeguard Indigenous rights to religious and cultural sites. Having outlined the broad array of international efforts for the protection of sacred sites, it is important to point out that there are tensions and perceived contradictions between them. Treating a sacred site as universal heritage may interfere with the worship of specific religious groups that seek ownership and control of the site as part of their right to religious freedom (Breger et al., 2010). While the world heritage approach can subdue conflict over sacred sites in light of competing group claims, it can dismiss the religious value of the site and the rights of communities that hold these values. For example, the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, where neither Christians nor Muslims are allowed to pray, is largely treated as a museum and tourist destination. In recognition of the importance of engaging and empowering religious groups and leaders alongside efforts to protect sacred sites by international institutions, there are also grassroots, civil society-led initiatives in support of this cause that put more focus on specific geographic locales and directly involve religious groups. Efforts rooted in local settings allow for context-specific approaches.

The universal code of conduct on holy sites The Universal Code of Conduct on Holy Sites (UCCHS) is a civil society-led initiative that was developed to create a common standard of behaviour in relation to sacred sites so as to protect them from destruction, maintain their sacred value, and protect access to the sites for worshippers (Search for Common Ground, 2009). Ultimately it is intended to be a tool for interreligious dialogue and cooperation. The UCCHS came into fruition through the efforts of four NGOs, Search for Common Ground, the Oslo Center for Peace and Human Rights, One World in Dialogue, and Religions for Peace, along with other partners. The drafting of the code was a lengthy process and a great testament to the desire for cooperation among diverse faiths. 241

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The initiative began through a 2009 conference in Trondheim, Norway, held by the four NGOs. It was initially intended to create a code on holy sites for the Abrahamic faiths and a small working committee was established for this purpose. However, the committee received significant interest from other faiths to be included in the initiative and after consultation with religious leaders from all of the world’s major faiths, a final draft was completed in January 2011. Religious leaders from more than ten faiths now endorse it. One of the main tenets of the UCCHS follows that where a site is sacred to more than one religious group, members of all groups that hold the site sacred should have access to the site and have equal responsibility for its maintenance. The UCCHS further recognizes the important role of religious leaders in the constructive transformation of conflicts over sacred sites. The UCCHS has been implemented through initiatives in numerous places around the world, including Bosnia Herzegovina, the Holy Land, Tunisia, Nigeria, Indonesia, India, and Sri Lanka. The creators of the UCCHS view it as a tool for conflict resolution and interreligious dialogue. It is a “fluid and mobile process” that adapts to needs and changes on the ground (Rosen, 2014). Each pilot for applying the UCCHS is tailored to fit the local context. For instance, an Indonesian initiative gathers research on attacks on holy sites due to a lack of a monitoring system for such incidents in the country. The Nigerian initiative focuses on enabling access to holy sites, which is often blocked due to conflict, as well as finding ways to repopulate holy sites that have been neglected. Indigenous tribes in the US studied the UCCHS and then created their own code, which was unique to their needs and focused on natural sites rather than constructed ones. One factor that all pilots have in common is a strong local administrative arm that can take ownership of the projects and ensure sustainability. Currently, there are efforts to make the UCCHS a UN resolution. The initiative has received support from the Office of the President of the UN General Assembly as well as the Organization of Islamic Cooperation. A draft resolution has already been created. The UCCHS reflects a premise that was held in numerous aforementioned cases, namely, that having sacred values makes one more sensitive, aware, and potentially empathetic towards the sacred values of others. Individuals who hold sacred values acknowledge the significance of the sacred values of other groups (Ginges et al., 2006). Understanding how deeply their own values impact their identity and worldview, they can appreciate the same for others. To address interreligious competition over shared sacred sites, the UCCHS provides a platform to transcend the notion of indivisibility and the zero-sum conflict framing associated with contested holy sites, through acknowledgment that a site can be sacred to more than one religious group. By including a clause against the appropriation of the sacred sites of other faith groups, the UCCHS is also an attempt to break the cycle described in the antagonistic tolerance model, whereby the holy sites of one group are acquired and converted by another community as a show of dominance. This initiative serves as a foundation for religious leaders to engage in discourse concerning contested holy sites, and an additional basis for urging their respective communities to become more open and sympathetic to the claims of others. Conflicts over sacred sites and the issue of their indivisibility can be addressed through the participation of religious leaders committed to peaceful conflict resolution (Hassner, 2009). Depending on their authority within their religious communities and relations with political elites sharing similar goals, religious leaders can be in a position to alter the “meaning, value, and parameters” of sacred sites to promote tolerance and cooperation (Hassner, 2009, p. 175).

Discussion Amidst the diversity of the world’s faith communities there are important points of commonality that can provide bases for cooperation. By virtue of shared commitments to exploring the 242

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sacred, religiously committed individuals constitute an “epistemic community,” a community that subscribes to a shared body of knowledge (Sandal, 2011). Shared ethical principles present within major religious traditions are evidence of common endeavor and wisdom, and include respect for life, equality, value of family and community, compassion, nonviolence, and defending the oppressed (Sandal, 2011). Although there are many epistemic communities based on different interpretations of religious texts, Sandal maintains that shared norms and the legitimacy offered by religious institutions can be used to bridge differences and create new norms of harmonious interaction and coexistence (Sandal, 2011). Similarly, Abu-Nimer et al. (2007) differentiate between religiocentric and religiorelative identities. Religiocentric identities advance the claim that one’s religion is superior to those of others, while religiorelative identities involve the acceptance of other faiths alongside one’s own. This type of thinking requires the interpretation of sacred texts in ways that enable the acknowledgment of other faith traditions as legitimate and deserving of equal respect and dignity. While acknowledging the dual potential of interreligious interaction to be a flash point for conflict as well as a basis for coexistence, Abu-Nimer et al. (2007) emphasize the possibility of the second outcome provided that there is commitment on the part of leaders and institutions towards it. A review of positive cases surrounding shared sacred sites demonstrates a variation in ways that harmony is achieved. At times, it grows organically through historical and cultural processes that do not require intervention. At other times, religious leaders and other civil society members come forward and extend gestures of goodwill to pave a way for coexistence between their communities. Additionally, state or international interventions through regulations and norms can establish a peaceful order at a shared sacred site and enable its protection. The UCCHS, as well as other case studies of cooperation and good faith between religious groups, demonstrate the capacity for negotiating differences and acknowledging shared values through collaborative and nonviolent means that are vested in mutual respect, recognition, and trust. Religion can be used and manipulated to rally and perpetuate conflict, which becomes especially complex when the conflict involves competition over territory and sacred sites. Nonetheless, by providing norms and platforms to empower and raise the voices of religious leaders and community members who seek peace, the UCCHS and similar initiatives have the potential to help move relations between religious groups from hostility to greater cooperation and amicability.

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Nathan Funk and Yelena Gyulkhandanyan Ferrari, S. (2014). Introduction: The legal protection of the sacred places of the Mediterranean. In S. Ferrari & A. Benzo (Eds.), Between Cultural Diversity and Common Heritage: Legal and Religious Perspectives on the Sacred Places of the Mediterranean (pp. 1–16). Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. Frøystad, K. (2012). Divine intersections: Hindu ritual and the incorporation of religious others. Cosmopolitan Civil Societies: An Interdisciplinary Journal, 4(2), 1–21. Ginges, J., Atran, S., Medin, D., & Shikaki, K. (2006). Sacred bounds on rational resolution of violent political conflict. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, 10(18), 7357–60. Graben, S. (2014). Resourceful impacts: Harm and valuation of the sacred. University of Toronto Law Journal, 64(1), 64–105. Hammer, L. (2010). Protection of holy places in international law: Objective and subjective approaches. In M. J. Breger, Y. Reiter & L. Hammer (Eds.), Holy Places in the Israeli–Palestinian Conflict: Confrontation and Co-existence (pp. 50–66). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Hassner, R. E. (2003). To halve and to hold: Conflicts over sacred space and the problem of indivisibility. Security Studies, 12(4), 1–33. Hassner, R. E. (2009). War on Sacred Grounds. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Hayden, R. M. (2013). Intersecting religioscapes and antagonistic tolerance: Trajectories of competition and sharing of religious spaces in the Balkans. Space and Polity, 17(3), 320–34. International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (n.d.). Geneva, Switzerland: United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights. www.ohchr.org/en/professionalinterest/pages/ccpr. aspx Lutheran World Federation (2015). Overcoming past differences in Canada. Geneva, Switzerland: Lutheran World Federation. www.lutheranworld.org/news/lwf-council-adopts-statement-conduct-holy-sites Memorandum of Understanding – Declaration of Harmony and Justice (2006). Winnipeg, MB: Mennonite Central Committee, Aug. 22. www.circle-m.ca/pdfs/Stony%20Knoll%20Band%20-%20ltr%20to%20 Valcourt%20Aug%202013.pdf MCC (2015). Young Chippewayan History – Stoney Knoll IR #107: The Shared Path of the Young Chippewayan, Mennonite and Lutheran Peoples. Laird, SK: Mennonite Central Committee. https://docs.wixstatic.com/ ugd/8cb9c2_a72da6cc010a49e68371f767dde0d360.pdf Mircea, E. (1996). Patterns in Comparative Religion. Lincoln, NB: University of Nebraska Press. Reiter, Y. (2010). Contest or cohabitation in shared holy places? The cave of the patriarchs and Samuel’s tomb. In M. J. Breger, Y. Reiter, & L. Hammer (Eds.), Holy Places in the Israeli–Palestinian Conflict: Confrontation and Co-existence (pp. 158–77). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Reiter, Y., and Natsheh, Y. (2008). The Samuel tomb: Tolerance via museumization. Paper presented at the Sharing Sacred Space: Religion and Conflict Resolution Conference, Feb. 14–15. New York: Columbia University. Rosen, S. (2014). Personal communication, Apr. 28. Saifi, Y., and Yüceer, H. (2013). Maintaining the absent other: The re-use of religious heritage sites in conflicts. International Journal of Heritage Studies, 19(7), 749–63. Sandal, N. A. (2011). Religious actors as epistemic communities in conflict transformation: The cases of South Africa and Northern Ireland. Review of International Studies, 37(3), 929–49. Satha-Anand, C., & Urbain, O. (Eds.) (2013). Protecting the Sacred, Creating Peace in Asia-Pacific. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers. Search for Common Ground (2009). Universal code of conduct on holy sites. Jerusalem, Israel: Search for Common Ground. https://www.sfcg.org/universal-code-of-conduct-on-holy-sites/ Smith, A. D. (2000). The “sacred” dimensions of nationalism. Millennium – Journal of International Studies, 29(3), 791–814. UNHCR (2015). UN expert hails “key breakthrough for religious freedom reached in Cyprus.” Geneva, Switzerland: United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights. www.ohchr.org/EN/ NewsEvents/Pages/DisplayNews.aspx?NewsID=13880&LangID=E United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. (2008). New York: United Nations. www.un.org/esa/socdev/unpfii/documents/DRIPS_en.pdf Yazbak, M. (2010). Holy shrines (Maqamat) in modern Palestine/Israel and the politics of memory. In M. J. Breger, Y. Reiter, & L. Hammer (Eds.), Holy Places in the Israeli–Palestinian Conflict: Confrontation and Co-existence (pp. 231–8). Abingdon, UK: Routledge.

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20 CONFLICT INTERVENTION AND REFLEXIVE EVALUATION Jay Rothman

I write this piece as a scholar-practitioner exploring the question of how to understand and assess the impact of my work with groups in conflict with each other and more importantly how to evaluate the impact of this work on fostering cooperation between such groups. The application of an evaluative lens to this work has always been integrated in my work as a conflict theorist and intervener (Rothman, 2017). Which lens to use, however, is not as easy. In this chapter I suggest a reflexive approach may be most fitting to the field. By reflexive I mean as a person who views his own values, agency, and biases as part of, not separate from, the interventions I make and study (Rothman, 2014a). By reflexive, I also mean having the analytical detachment to scrutinize one’s own involvement (as both subject doing something and observer watching something) and make choices about its usefulness or harm in assisting others to do their “own work” in conflict and cooperation effectively. By “effective,” I mean in the normative sense of conflict, which is least destructive to human life and well-being, and cooperation which is most inclusive and driven from people it is to serve and their own purposes as they define them. Thus, my main purpose here is to take up my own internal challenge as a reflexive practitioner always in pursuit of effectiveness (one definition of success, which of course begs the question of operationalization and testing).

One: Good fences make good neighbors There where it is we do not need the wall: He is all pine and I am apple orchard. My apple trees will never get across And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him. He only says, “Good fences make good neighbors.” (Frost, 1914) If it were indeed true that human identities could be so discreetly separated like apples and pines, conflict would rarely erupt. Rather, as the poet later muses, fences are needed when the cows of one wanders onto the turf of another and eat its grass. Then conflict erupts. Less poetically now, I theorize that groups compete over scarce resources, diverge over different goals and 245

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values, and conflict over identities that clash (Rothman, 2014b). I have been most interested in my theorizing and applied work in the latter, identity-based issues, in which sides deeply conflict in their respective existential concerns that often, correctly or not, seem exclusive and oppositional. Ernst and Chrobot-Mason (2011) suggest the need for “buffering” (i.e., fence building or mending) involving the defining of boundaries between people to foster a sense of internal safety. They contend that “until boundaries are clearly defined and effectively managed, groups will find it nearly impossible to work collaboratively . . . You must be able to see group boundaries clearly before you can bridge them” (p. 83). In my work in intergroup conflict and its creative engagement (Rothman, 1997a, 2012), I suggest that groups actually need to articulate their antagonism to each other, either analytically or interactively (i.e., dialogically), to make their differences and animosity clear. Through the guided process of drawing and analyzing such lines, they also can begin to make choices about if and when such antagonism is functional or not. My focus is that intragroup prenegotiation is a means for helping to promote effective intergroup cooperation. I am extending, or internalizing, my idea of articulating differences en route to finding commonality across different groups, to groups within themselves. Moreover, in part of the experiences described below as well as prior theorizing, I suggest that when groups can themselves surface their internal differences effectively and bridge them, not by closing ranks against outsiders but rather by reaching internal agreement about ways forward that could include the other, they are on their way to intergroup cooperation (Rothman, 2012).

From boundaries to nexus If as Ernst and Chrobot-Mason (2011) contend, groups need to go inward before they can link with external groups, what are the conditions that promote such linkage and a widening of solidarity, or at least an acceptance of the other? Neurobiologist Daniel Siegal suggests (2010) that the main function of the brain is to seek and pursue “integration” (i.e., right and left hemispheres, mind and body, self and other). For meaningful integration to occur, he contends, individuals and the groups they form and that form them, must go through a developmental process of “differentiation” and “linkage.” That is, like the child individuating from parents, people must first mark their own distinctiveness in their individual identity formation or collective group solidarity. However, he suggests, if we stop at differentiation, we have chaos and confrontation. Or in the words of Amin Maalouf (2000, p. 35), we must learn, to accept multiple affiliations and allegiances; if [we] cannot accept [our] need for identity with an open and unprejudiced tolerance of other cultures; if [we] feel [we] have to choose between denial of the self and denial of the other – then we shall be bringing into being legions of the lost and hordes of bloodthirsty madmen. Thus, the next and essential step in forging peaceful relations between individuals and groups, is “linkage.” That is, what are the vehicles by which conflict is reduced and cooperation enhanced? Returning to the resources, goals, and identity framework outlined above, linkage may be built through sharing resources or pursuing them together in an expansive mode (i.e., integrative bargaining, Follet, 1940), by fostering shared understanding and commitment to common (superordinate) goals and values (Sherif, 1966). Or linkage can be fostered perhaps at the most profound, if abstract, level, by forging an overarching identity that is constituted of separate identities but also is larger than each alone (Rothman, 2012). 246

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Seeking the nexus Ernst and Chrobot-Mason (2011) define this overarching identity as the “nexus,” constituted of frontiers that meet instead of boundaries that separate (p. 238). Their ideal is “spanning boundaries and harnessing the energy between groups that is above and beyond the energy created by groups working alone” (Ernst & Chrobot-Mason, 2011, p. 222). This kind of cooperation is functional and akin to Sherif’s long-established notion of the power of superordinate goals. And yet, when deep and antagonistic dynamics are in place, clearly something has to condition the shift whereby parties are willing to entertain the notion of expansive cooperation. How can different identity groups, say Jews and Arabs in Israel, or Moldovans and Transnistrians, or Basque and Spanish nationalists, or at less complex levels of analysis, African American citizens and police officers confronting one another over issues of racial profiling in US cities, or right-wing and left-wing activists in the run-up to recent US elections, or managers and workers in industry – identity groups in conflict all – muster the will for cooperation and belief in it?

Two: Towards an evaluative theory of practice in intergroup conflict In recent years much work is being done to develop and implement effective monitoring and evaluation of conflict resolution. Implicitly embedded within all practice is a theory of success. Practice that has an evaluation component built into it, as all good practices should have, is an explicit theory of practice. My work, illustrated in a case study below, is itself a form of reflexive, self-evaluative intervention. Being explicit about my own theories of practice (what I think I should do when, why, and how) leads me to inviting participants to use the same framework – what, why, and how – to determine their own purposes and practices. This process called “Action Evaluation” begins by asking participants within their separate sides and then across them to define success (or articulate goals) for an initiative (around either a specific shared project or a set of conflictual relationships or both), and to be specific about their definitions of success or what they want to accomplish, why it is important to them and how they think it is possible (Rothman, 2012, 2017). Participants along with all other key stakeholders are asked to be explicit about their goals, values, and action ideas at the launch of a project (thus establishing its baseline), as it unfolds (in a formative and reiterative way), and at its natural or timed conclusion (summative or most traditionally as evaluation-as-judgment) (Rothman, 2012, 1997b).

Intragroup conflict and projection Conflict within groups is both notorious and, relative to the problem, somewhat under-studied. It is almost axiomatic, or at least apparently intuitive, that conflict within sides is often a significant cause of failed negotiations between them. And yet, outside of organizational studies, little empirical or applied work is done in this area when it comes to ethnic conflict and relations. It is clear that conflicts between people often have their source in intrapsychic conflicts within each side. However, relatively little work has been done on how this generalizes up to intergroup dynamics. Volkan (1988) has described in some detail the psychodynamic of projection in ethnic conflict in his treatise on “the need for enemies and allies.” He suggests that groups avoid their own negative features, including internal schisms, by projecting them on the “evil other.” And yet, even in this work, the main units of analysis are individual actors. It is of course not easy to get beyond that, since groups are themselves neither “beings” nor “actors” and thus studying them and portraying group “actions” is misleading. Indeed, as Nikki Slocum (2012) writes, one must 247

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“be careful not to (implicitly or otherwise) claim that a ’group’ can act. Only persons have agentive powers. I believe that this is an ontological pitfall that has hugely contributed to the lack of practical utility of much of social scientific work [in this area].”

Human needs and identity For Burton (1990) and other human needs theorists, the main cause of deep conflict is the threat to and frustration of individual’s basic needs such as meaning, safety, dignity, control over destiny, identity, wellbeing, and valued relations. Groups and group identity are a primary vehicle through which individuals seek to secure and satisfy these needs (Kelman, 1983; Azar, 1990; Burton 1990). While somewhat circular, groups fulfill individual’s needs by remaining intact. One common way to remain intact is to have an “Other” who can be blamed as the primary source of threat and frustration to such needs. Outgroup animosity is both a political and psychological devise for building or maintaining ingroup coherence. Such animosity arises through mechanisms such as projection or conflict opportunism when atavistic attitudes towards the outgroup are stirred up for political purposes by corrupt leadership (as in the former Yugoslavia). The relatively new theoretical direction, or at least new emphasis, of this present research is that not only will such real or imagined threats or frustration to a group’s ability to fulfill its individuals’ needs lead to conflict with outgroups, but reversing the flow, it can also lead to and often follow from deep intragroup conflict. It can lead to intragroup conflict when groups divide internally, like Hamas and the Palestinian Liberation Organization, regarding opposing ideologies towards the other (more or less ethnocentric, and fundamentally religious, more or less militant/accommodating, etc.). Thus, for these and so many more reasons, any effort to heal rifts between groups must journey deeply through the landscape of intragroup conflict. To state it again now, my main theory of change in this research is the notion that for peace to prevail between groups, it must be deeply fostered within groups prior to, during, and following intergroup encounter.

Three: Case study As a Fulbright Scholar in Emek Yizreel College in Northern Israel between 2005 and 2006 in which some 20 percent of the students are Palestinian citizens of Israel, reflecting the wider societal demographics as well, I co-taught with my colleague Victor Friedman, a course called, “Identity, Conflict and Visions of a Cooperative Future in Israel” for about 40 students, about 40 percent of whom were Arabs. At the conclusion of the seminar four Jewish and three Arab students volunteered to pilot an action-research project I was exploring for young Jews and Arabs in Israel to envision a more democratic, peaceful, and cooperative future. I was taking seven of my students through a particular process of conflict engagement and visioning called Action Evaluation (Rothman, 1997b, 1997c, 2012). First using a web-based survey instrument, the participants shared their individual visions – what, why, and how – about a more peaceful future with the Other (i.e., Jews or Arabs of Israel). Next, I brought members of each group together to build internal consensus, which included surfacing internal conflicts and contradictions. Below I describe some highlights of conflict and consensus in each group separately and then their somewhat surprisingly wholly positive encounter across their two groups. As Church and Rogers (2006) and Nan (2010) describe, theories of change can be used as markers along an intervention journey to stay aware of their assumptions, choice points and 248

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decisions, and recalibrate them as things unfold. My initial vision of a successful project between my Jewish and Arab students had been that each side would work together to develop shared goals internally and then between them. I assumed conflict might emerge when the two sides came together. I imagined some internal differences as well. However, the surprise was the degree to which internal differences were intense and external differences small by comparison. I had not planned for that. Rather, I thought I was doing a two-step collaborative visioning process, albeit in the context of an intergroup conflict. The surfacing and engagement of deep conflict when it did emerge within the context of intragroup visioning actually provided a source of new theorizing and ultimately successful intergroup cooperation. I believe that one of the reasons the intergroup goal setting proved so smooth in this case, as will be seen, is that intragroup conflicts on both sides were first surfaced and engaged. This seems to have helped pave the way for agreement between the groups.

Jewish students: Good neighbors – separately Of the Jewish student participants in an early pilot test, one, who I will call “Etti,” was the most politically ethnocentric, which is the label I will be working with instead of right, center, or left. In addition to visions about the end of enemy images between both sides, and repair in the relations between them, she aspired for a future in which, “Jews live in peace and comfort in their own separate territories; Arabs live in peace and comfort in their own separate territories and both sides live as good neighbors with the other.” Given that the visions of this pilot test were about Arab–Jewish relations in the shared country of Israel, this vision seemed to share with extreme hard-liners (or rigid ethnocentrists) a notion of “transfer” of Arab populations from Israel to an eventual state of Palestine, which Palestinian citizens of Israel absolutely reject. Her colleagues were quite alarmed by this vision that they felt was racist and dangerous. They told her they would not accept it as their own as is necessary for any goal to move forward as shared in the consensual process we use to build goals. It grew conflictual as she asserted this was her firm principle and didn’t want to be part of a group that would reject it out of hand. In turn, “Tomer,” who the next day was to start his army reserve duty as a commander, gave an eloquent plea for change. “I am exhausted after the last war in Lebanon, 2005,” he began. His colleagues listened in stillness as he continued, I believe as a people we [Israeli Jews] are all tired. We want to live normal lives. To raise our children to have good futures – not to fight forever. When we have to fight for our existence we must and we will. But this last war had nothing to do with that . . . Rather, it was a leader’s war and the people were just pawns . . . I live with Arabs; I grew up with them. We are friends and this ensures that we don’t hate and fear each other. . . . Etti, it won’t help us to live separately; rather we must live better together. Soon, as the group began negotiating its shared vision, Etti agreed to give up her advocacy for a goal the group would obviously never accept, and was satisfied to live with the general and accommodating goals the group could agree upon (see Figure 20.1). What happened here? The group goals are enlightened and pluralistic in nature. Did Etti give up her ethnocentric ideas, born, it seemed, of family of origin and life experience, during this relatively brief intragroup dialogue? Did Tomer’s personal story and plea move her? Or rather did a convergence towards accommodation occur such that Etti felt safe and her ideals of reducing enemy images and building up the possibility of living cooperatively became a meaningful 249

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Reduce economic gaps and enhance equal opportunities (for Arabs in Israel). Enhance cooperative living towards a better future. Promote open and cooperative dialogue. Build trust between us. Figure 20.1  Consensus goals of Jewish students

vision for her? Or was she responding to me as her teacher and the “expert?” Or did she not particularly take the whole process very seriously and thus moved to make group consensus possible by compromising on what she really believed. I don’t know. Indeed, when I asked why she gave up so easily, she smiled gently and said, “Why not?” How long will this “why not?” last for Etti? The “re-entry” effect is powerful and often negative. When she goes back to her family and community, the reasons against “why not?” will most likely be powerful, and unless she wants to reject and challenge her father’s house, she may rebound the other way. So, while peacemaking may be relatively easy when it occurs in an island of sanity like I helped construct for my students, in the wild ocean of life such progress is often easily washed away and can even act like an undertow pulling peace under when unrealistic expectations are met with a negative reality. So, while I can’t really know why Etti agreed, I do know that the group was pleased with its ability to get along and reach consensus at the time. And as will be seen, this was the building block for a relatively smooth agreement to follow with the other side.

Arab students: “Primitivism or oppression?” From the beginning of the semester in our class “Identity, Conflict and Visions of a Cooperative Future,” Randa and Khalwah were at each other’s throats. These two Arab women were ostensibly from the same group, but they shared mainly deep antipathy towards one other. It was with some trepidation that I said OK when these two along with Ahmed, volunteered to work on the same team for this pilot research project. Randa, 38 years old, of fiery temperment, is clear that the problem of Arab–Jewish relations in Israel, and indeed of Israeli–Palestinian relations at large, is one of inequality and injustice by the Israeli Jews towards her people. She told the following story: When my grandfather was on his deathbed, he took the key he had kept for more than 50 years to the house from which he was exiled in 1948 and went for a last visit. When we knocked on the door, the Jewish woman who answered was visibly alarmed and demanded that we leave. My student told this story with a burning anger in her eyes. I asked her why this story was so important to her. This is a delicate question since “why” can sound either controversial, or deeply caring. I think I struck the right chord as she answered quietly, “because my grandfather died a month later and never saw the inside of his home again. Because my family is scattered. We don’t live in our home. We are exiles here in Israel.” Khalwah, 23 years old, on the

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other hand, born into a Christian Arab family, railed against Us–Them distinctions, and in fact reserved her anger for the narrowness of her own people. She called them “primitive.” During the Arab students’ visioning process Khalwah and Randa finally had the opportunity for full conflict engagement. On hearing Khalwah’s vision, “that the Arabs will become more developed and less culturally primitive,” Randa hit the roof. You are simply inverting the oppression of the Jews onto yourself. You don’t understand at all that if there is limited development of our people, it is because the Jews have held us down in order to maintain their dominance and hegemony. This is so obvious, you are just too young and naive to understand. “And you” retorted Khalwah, hold onto outmoded ideas of your parents and others who are so clannish and tied into your own ways of seeing things that you don’t even see what you can’t see. Blaming the Jews for all of our faults will leave us simply with more faults. It certainly won’t change the way the Jews act towards us. You know, I felt like you do during our conflict workshop when Rachel talked about being unwilling to share this land with us as equals. As a religious Jew she feels this land is hers; we can stay as strangers, but not owners. I wanted to respond and tell her that this is really our land and she is welcome as a guest here. I was angry . . . But as I’ve thought about it more, I’ve realized that kind of response won’t help. Change will. I want us to change and then perhaps we can change them. Randa laughed at her and said, “you are so naive.” I watched as Khalwah struggled to control her own response. Feeling they each had their turn for a rather full-throated antagonism (Rothman, 2012), I decided to stop this downwardly spiraling fight and invite them to engage their conflicts systematically, “virtuously” and with a purpose. “Enough,” I said, as I held my hands up between them like a referee in a boxing match after he has separated the opponents from their death-lock. Let’s reframe your conflict issues one by one, then inquire about why these issues matter to you each so much and see if there is any overlap between your deep concerns. My hope is you might even come up with a shared vision to replace the one that Khalwah strongly advocates and unequivocally Randa rejects. In systems thinking a very important concept for conflict engagement is that conflicts normally spiral down a violent cycle. One says something mean. The other retorts. One pushes. The other punches. One pulls a knife; the other pulls a gun. However, if the passion of the rising dissonance can be captured and converted into passion of resonance, the downward spiral can be reversed into a virtuous cycle in which mean words are countered with a question, “Why are you so angry?” An angry answer can be embraced as a puzzle, “I am quite confused by your venom right now, but I do want to understand why you feel that, why and how I may have contributed to it.” Of course, responding so “virtuously” in the heat of a battle is almost impossible for those locked in the struggle. That is where a third party can help enormously. As a way to keep them from going back into an antagonistic spiral, I invited them to engage in conflict framing from the other’s perspective. I invite them to listen deeply to each other. The point is not

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to agree, but rather to see if each has understood the other’s formulation of their differences. Khalwah starts. Speaking as if she were Randa she says that, the main problem here is prejudice against us by the majority and inequality of treatment and opportunity. Moreover, that the Jews take our land and call it their own. Until we have a state for all its citizens instead of a state that gives preferences to the Jews, we will suffer and be second-class. Focusing on our own faults as a community is just beside the point right now. It’s blaming the victim. Randa speaking as Khalwah says that “her” main concern is change. “Such change,” she asserts, “must begin within the Arab community itself where primitive ways of thinking, clannishness, narrow-mindedness, restrictions on women’s roles and rights keep us down more than any Israeli Jew.” Commenting that indeed each has heard the other, I now inquire about why each side seems to care so much about the issues at stake in this debate. “Speaking now again as yourselves, why do these things matter to you so much? If you could summarize your main concerns with one word, what would you say.” Randa says her main word is “honor”. I ask her to expand, “we are a proud people and we must be afforded dignity.” Khalwah says, “change . . . We need to move forward.” With this, I asked them to review Khalwah’s goal of “increasing openness for change and reducing primitivism in the Arab Community” and think about how they might adapt it such that their deeper and interactive concerns for dignity and change could be addressed, or at least not frustrated. Khalwah suggests dropping the word primitive and adding “future” and “both sides” so that it reads: “Both sides need openness and development for a new future.” With that the Arab students, including Ahmed who has been primarily an observer of the conflict engagement process between his colleagues, reach full agreement on their platform of visions to share with the Jewish students at the next meeting (see Figure 20.2). Again, what happened here? The two women, who were adversaries from the first day of class, now began to work together. I changed in my role from teacher to action-researcher to conflict intervener. Did they feel any sense of breakthrough? Did my own various roles contradict or complement each other? Immediately after the session, Khalwah told me she still felt exasperated by her younger colleague. I told her to reflect on it all and that we would talk about it all later, which we never did and as a conflict intervener I regret. I said, now again as her teacher, I thought much learning had occurred and, as an action-researcher that progress had been made. “After all, you moved from barely being able to address each other to coming up with a shared vision that would not have existed if you hadn’t engaged your conflict first.”

Equality will bring peace between the two peoples in the state of Israel. Acceptance and respect will transform the conflict. Both sides need openness and development for a new future. Figure 20.2  Consensus goals of Arab students

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Reduce the gaps between Jews and Arabs in Israel to forge equality. Develop mutual respect, acceptance and confidence building activities between the sides. Foster intergroup dialogue and mutual openness in order to build a new and cooperative future. Figure 20.3  Joint visions of Arab and Jewish students

Shared vision After a couple weeks, I brought both groups together. We discussed their experience in separate groups and each side expressed satisfaction with their respective goals as well as the process, including conflict engagement, they went through to get their internal agreement. I asked them to share their data with each other and explore how their separate consensus goals might be forged into shared goals. After a relatively short discussion, the groups merged the lists through a consensus-based process to one overarching list (see Figure 20.3). As we debriefed the experience everyone expressed a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. They also expressed surprise about how relatively easy it had been when they finally all got together, to develop a meaningful and shared vision of their future.

Discussion We really cannot fully understand Etti’s “why not,” nor Randa and Khawla’s turn from confrontation towards agreement from the data presented and unfortunately I was unable to do any follow-up or summative assessments about this project. Yet both happened indeed and the path to consensus between both groups was tremendously smooth and reported as satisfying for all involved. Clearly, my hypothesis that enhancing intragroup understanding, particularly around conflict issues, as a vehicle for promoting intergroup cooperation has not been in any way confirmed or even systematically developed in this case study. And yet, I share some of the narrative data as a way to document the experience, and begin to establish some markers to follow as I further develop a research plan and agenda to pursue this hypothesis that successful intragroup prenegotiation can help condition the journey to intergroup peace. Moreover, in reflexively raising some of the potential conflicts of interest that I may have encountered, I hope to be more self-aware and cautious about them in the future. I do not conclude that it was inappropriate for me with my multiple roles to have conducted this intervention. Rather, on the whole, I believe it was a positive one for all involved. My ideal is that, during the formative phase of the intervention, after key stakeholders have defined success in terms of What, Why, and How, we could together reflect on their experiences of pursuing their own notions of success while in the midst of it as any good reflective practitioner should do, and see if other types of goals or practices might emerge that would lead to either single-loop or doubleloop learning by changing practices to improve outcomes, or changing fundamental assumptions about success before changing practices (Argyris & Schon, 1978). While not new, I believe one of the additional theories that was crystallized from this fieldwork is that intragroup conflict over goals, and perhaps even identities, when fostering cooperation between different sides, can become a resource for such cooperation. It served for example to help condition sides as they met with the other side after having successfully bridged their own internal differences. 253

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Four: Conclusion Intragroup conflict can be a cause of intergroup conflict, for example as members of groups project internal differences onto shared adversaries as one device for reducing their own animosity. Conversely, as I theorize in this and previous writing, intergroup cooperation can sometimes emerge directly out of intragroup conflict if it is well engaged (Rothman, 2011). Through a multi-staged developmental process of engaging internal conflicts and then building internal consensus over goals within groups, conditioning may occur to help foster consensus building between groups. In this example, and in dozens of other consensus building interventions of mine, the process of moving individuals from an attitude of antagonism towards the “other” to intragroup consensus about some valued future and finally from there to intergroup consensus, has been transformative (Rothman, 2006, 2012, 2017; Rothman & Land, 2004). Regarding the changes experienced by participants, or at least observed by the third parties, within the interventions themselves, my hypothesis is that as group members surface and heal internal rifts, they begin to find the value in such a process and its positive outcomes, and may then be somewhat conditioned to also develop the will, and skill, to do the same with members of the outgroup. Exploring this and additional hypotheses will hopefully animate future research projects focusing on transforming identity-based conflicts into successful cooperation. This chapter is an early effort in laying out initial hypotheses and more importantly laying out a broader research agenda to understand this experience of success and see if we can more fully understand, and build upon, its positive dynamics and characteristics.

References Argyris, C., & Schon, D. (1978). Organizational Learning: A Theory of Action Perspective. Boston, MA: Addison Wesley. Azar, E. (1990). The Management of Protracted Social Conflict: Theory and Cases. Aldershot, UK: Dartmouth Publishing Co. Burton, J. (Ed.) (1990). Conflict: Human needs theory. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Church, C., & Rogers, M. (2006). Integrating Monitoring and Evaluation in Conflict Transformation Programs. Washington, DC: Search for Common Ground. www.sfcg.org/Documents/manualpart1.pdf Ernst, C., & Chrobot-Mason, D. (2011). Boundary Spanning Leadership: Six Practices for Solving Problems, Driving Innovation, and Transforming Organizations. New York: McGraw-Hill. Follet, M. (1940). Constructive conflict. In F. H. Metca & L. Urwick (Eds.), Dynamic Administration: The Collected Papers of Mary Parker-Follet (pp. 30–49). New York: Harper. Frost, R. (1914). Mending wall. http://writing.upenn.edu/~afilreis/88/frost-mending.html Kelman, H. (1983). Coalitions across conflict lines: The interplay of conflicts within and between the Israeli and Palestinian communities. In S. Worchel & J. Simpson (Eds.), Conflict between People and Groups (pp. 236–58). Chicago, IL: Nelson- Hall. Maalouf, A. (2000). In the Name of Identity: Violence and the Need to Belong. New York: Penguin. Nan, S. (2010). Theories of Change and Indicator Development in Conflict Management and Mitigation. Washington, DC: USAID. http://pdf.usaid.gov/pdf_docs/Pnads460.pdf Ross, M., & Rothman, J. (Eds.) (1999). Theory and Practice in Ethnic Conflict Management: Conceptualizing Success and Failure. London: Macmillan Press. Rothman, J. (1997a). Resolving Identity-Based Conflict in Nations, Organizations and Communities. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Rothman, J. (1997b). Action evaluation and conflict resolution in theory and practice. Mediation Quarterly, 15(2), 119–31. Rothman, J. (1997c). Action evaluation and conflict resolution training: Theory, method and case study. International Negotiation, 2(3), 451–70. Rothman, J. (2006). Identity and conflict: Collaboratively addressing police–community conflict in Cincinnati, Ohio. Ohio State Journal on Dispute Resolution, 22(1), 105–32.

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Conflict intervention and reflexive evaluation Rothman, J. (2011). The insides of identity and intragroup conflict. In W. Zartman, M. Anstey, & P. Meerts (Eds.), The Slippery Slope to Genocide Reducing Identity Conflicts and Preventing Mass Murder (pp. 154–72). Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Rothman, J. (2012). From Identity-Based Conflict to Identity-Based Cooperation. New York: Springer. Rothman, J. (2014a). The reflexive mediator. Negotiation Journal, 30(4), 441–53. Rothman, J. (2014b). Conflict engagement: A contingency model in theory and practice. Peace and Conflict Studies, 21(2), 104–16. Rothman, J. (2017). Re-envisioning Conflict Resolution: Vision, Action and Evaluation in Creative Conflict Engagement. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Rothman, J., & Land, R. (2004) Cincinnati police–community relations collaborative. Criminal Justice, 18(4), 35–42. Siegal, D. (2010). The Mindful-Therapist: A Clinician’s Guide to Mindsight and Neural Integration. New York: W. W. Norton & Co. Sherif, M. (1966). In Common Predicament: Social Psychology of Intergroup Conflict and Cooperation. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin. Slocum, N. (2012). Personal communication, May 24. Volkan, V. (1988). The Need for Enemies and Allies: From Clinical Practice to International Relationships. Northvale, NJ: Aronson.

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PART V

Culture and identity

21 INTERACTIVE CONFLICT RESOLUTION, IDENTITY, AND CULTURE Ronald J. Fisher

History and definition of interactive conflict resolution In the early days of the peace studies and conflict resolution fields, numerous scholar-practitioners experimented with applications of small group methods of training and intervention to the vexing problem of destructive intergroup and international conflict. In the organizational domain, American social psychologists Robert Blake, Jane Mouton, and their colleagues extended sensitivity training and other group methods to the intergroup level in addressing debilitating “win-lose” conflicts between departments, unions and management, and other interfaces (Blake et al., 1964). A pioneering Australian diplomat-turned-academic in international relations by the name of John Burton drew upon this organizational work as well as social casework to create a unique blend of the academic seminar with problemsolving discussions and applied it with some success to the conflicts in Malaysia/Indonesia and Cyprus (Burton, 1969). American social psychologist Leonard Doob organized workshops that brought professional facilitators of sensitivity training and the Tavistock method to apply their approaches to the conflicts in the Horn of Africa (Doob, 1970) and Northern Ireland (Doob & Foltz, 1973). Herbert Kelman, also an American social psychologist, compared the approaches of Burton and Doob in an early elucidation of the Problem Solving Workshop (PSW), which has become a primary form of intervention in conflict resolution (Kelman, 1972). Kelman developed a prototype PSW in collaboration with Canadian social psychologist Stephen Cohen and applied it to the Israeli–Palestinian conflict (Cohen et al., 1977; Kelman & Cohen, 1976). Influenced by the work of Kelman,, Cohen, and Burton, Lebanese-American political scientist Edward Azar organized workshops on the Egyptian/Israeli conflict (Cohen & Azar, 1981) and later the Lebanese and Argentine/United Kingdom wars (Azar, 1990). These pioneering efforts have been followed by continuing contributions of a variety of practitioners with applications to most of the world’s protracted and violent intercommunal and international conflicts (Fisher, 1983, 1997, 2005). Not surprisingly, given the disciplinary identity of most of the creators, these small group approaches are based on several social-psychological assumptions about the nature of intercommunal and international conflict that then provide for part of their rationale (Fisher, 2007; Fisher et al., 2013). Fundamentally, conflict is assumed to comprise both objective interests and subjective factors, with the latter becoming more influential as escalation proceeds, and both of which 259

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must be addressed for effective resolution. Thus, a host of subjective elements, including misperceptions, negative attitudes, hostile emotions, misattributions, miscommunications, unwitting commitments, and relationship issues such as mistrust, win–lose orientations, and unmet basic needs, must be addressed along with objective and structural issues. It is then assumed that positive changes in subjective elements in individuals following the workshop sessions need to be transferred to the collective level in terms of political decisionmaking, policy formulation, and public opinion, through activities such as personal communication, speeches, publications, and so on. The potential for this transfer is based on the assumption that conflict systems involve collectivities composed of interacting individuals, with influence moving in both directions. Finally, the methods assume that constructive and authentic face-to-face interaction by some members of the conflict parties is necessary, although not sufficient, to overcome the hostile subjectivity and adversarial maneuvering in the arena of conflict, and further that in most cases this kind of interaction needs to be organized and facilitated by an impartial or balanced and skilled third-party team who serve as an initial repository of trust for those in conflict (Fisher, 1972; Kelman, 2005). Following the creative initiatives of the pioneers, others made important contributions to both the theory and practice of interactive methods of conflict resolution. Additional theoretical underpinnings were proposed, such as psychodynamic theory, and methods of practice were expanded beyond the PSW identified with Burton and Kelman. Numerous facilitated intercommunal dialogues have been carried out with the intent of increasing understanding and reestablishing harmony between aggrieved members of the conflict parties. Additional interactive methods, particularly training and consensus building, were developed on parallel yet related tracks. One result is terminological confusion, given that numerous scholar-practitioners have proposed their own labels for what are essentially the same processes. These various labels will be identified below in the description of major exemplars of dialogue and PSW programs. The creation of the term interactive conflict resolution can be traced to a small working conference of dialogue and PSW facilitators hosted in 1990 by the Center for Psychology and Social Change at the Harvard Medical School and supported by the Rockefeller Family Fund. With design, facilitation, and input provided by center staff and associates (Richard and Laura Chasin, Margaret Herzig, and Paula Gutlove), the conference engaged many of the leading practitioners in applied conflict resolution (John Burton, Herbert Kelman, Christopher Mitchell, and Harold Saunders) along with members of the coming generation (Eileen Babbitt, Tamra Pearson, and Reena Bernards) to discuss the challenges and future directions for “dialogue facilitation.” A central issue was how to identify this emerging field, and I volunteered to draft a concept paper, choosing the label interactive conflict resolution (ICR), that was distributed and apparently accepted by the participants. However, most of the pioneering scholars and their protégés continued to use their own labels for their unique approaches, with some acknowledgment of the ICR umbrella term, which has gained limited usage as a broader rubric, particularly among younger scholars. In the first instance, I defined ICR as involving “small group, problem-solving discussions between unofficial representatives of identity groups or states engaged in destructive conflict that are facilitated by an impartial third party of social scientist-practitioners” (Fisher, 1993, p. 123), thus rendering it coterminous with the PSW. Realizing that a much wider definition was required to do justice to dialogue work and to incorporate the rapidly developing array of facilitated, interactive activities, I added a broader definition in my later history and assessment of the practice: “ICR can be defined as facilitated face-to-face activities in communication, training, education, or consultation that promote collaborative conflict analysis and problem solving among parties engaged in protracted conflict in a manner that addresses basic human 260

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needs and promotes the building of peace, justice, and equality” (Fisher, 1997, p. 8). Even though terminological diversity continues to this day, the ICR label is the only one that was commissioned and accepted by the field as represented in the 1990 conference.

Intercommunal dialogue In the first major exposition of ICR (Fisher, 1997), I distinguished the popular method of intergroup dialogue from the more analytical and solution-focused method of the PSW. Following the standard definition of dialogue as open and frank discussion to seek mutual understanding, I acknowledged that improved communication and understanding is the first step in conflict resolution. While this type of interaction will involve a degree of conflict analysis, it does not usually bring insights from social science to bear on the conflict nor does it typically develop ideas for resolution, as do PSWs. Thus, dialogue comes under the broader definition of ICR as a communication activity to increase intergroup harmony while not resolving basic issues in the relationship. Further, dialogue interventions tend to involve grassroots members of the parties or diasporas rather than unofficial influentials well connected to decisionmakers who can affect policymaking and/or public opinion. Nonetheless, many of the functions and skills required to organize and facilitate dialogues are also essential for PSWs, and dialogue is intrinsically part and parcel of the latter. It is therefore useful to delineate some of the major contributions to the theory of practice for dialogue work prior to doing the same for PSWs. Over the past four decades, three programs stand out for their professional and systematic delineation of the rationale, structure, and process of their interventions. Additional illustrations are available in Fisher (1997, 2007). Louis Kriesberg and Richard Schwartz of Syracuse University established the Syracuse Area Middle East Dialogue (SAMED) in 1981 in collaboration with local community members including Jews, Palestinians, and other concerned Americans (Kriesberg & Shomar, 1991; Schwartz, 1989). In addition to enhancing mutual understanding, the dialogue intended to influence United States (US) public opinion and policymaking to reduce damaging effects and help deescalate the conflict. A set of ground rules were developed to govern the interaction (e.g., equal air time) along with a statement of procedures covering the selection of participants (e.g., equal status), the process and content of the meetings (e.g., moving from sharing personal information to developing consensus statements), and the structure of the dialogue (e.g., a balanced steering committee to plan agendas). Initially, the dialogue produced a consensus statement that supported the mutual recognition of Israel and the Palestinian Liberation Organization along with direct negotiations. The program produced policy statements and met with State Department officials, members of Congress, and others involved in US policymaking on the Middle East. The SAMED website lists the mission statement, writings, and events of the program -- all directed toward advocating for a negotiated two-state solution between Israel and Palestine (http://www.samed-syr.org/). The mixed village of Neve Shalom/Wahat al-Salam/Oasis of Peace, established in 1961, provides a unique model for Israeli–Arab cooperation and integration based on trust and equality and a supportive context for intergroup dialogue (Bargal, 1992). The autonomous School for Peace, established in 1979, has provided conflict management workshops to thousands of Jewish and Arab teenagers with the goals of reducing prejudice, increasing awareness of the complexity of the conflict, and training skills in conflict management. Through continuous evaluation and redesign, the efficiency and effectiveness of the workshops have been constantly improved. The School for Peace website illustrates current workshops, training programs, and special projects designed to increase participants’ understanding of the conflict and their role in it to enable them to help change present relations (http://sfpeace.org/). 261

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In the latter days of the Cold War, the Center for Psychology and Social Change at Harvard University developed a structured process for dialogue facilitation based on family systems therapy, and applied it to a number of intergroup and international conflicts, most notably in sessions involving Americans and Soviets (Chasin & Herzig, 1988, 1993). This systematic and professional approach to dialogue was then carried forward in the programming of the Public Conversations Project (PCP). One illustration of PCP’s work was a carefully designed series of dialogues between pro-life and pro-choice supporters in which clear expectations and a series of questions to encourage openness and authenticity were placed within a well-structured program. In addition to addressing other conflicts, including the political divide in the US, PCP has taken the lead in training dialogue facilitators through workshops and a video series to introduce the basics and principles of the PCP approach. The dialogue guide and other resources offered by PCP are state of the art in the field, and the organization has now been recast as Essential Partners to carry the work forward (http://www.whatisessential.org/). Running throughout programs of facilitating dialogue is a core set of principles governing goals, norms, and guidelines that are deemed essential for successful processes and outcomes (Fisher, 1999, 2009). The goals are to increase shared knowledge and to build understanding and trust. The norms seek open and authentic expression that goes beyond ideas to include concerns and feelings, attentive and respectful interaction, and a willingness to look for commonalities along with differences. Guidelines ask for participants to refrain from rhetorical or abstract statements, but to speak from personal experience. The challenge is to inform and educate, rather than to persuade or deter, and to listen in order to understand and learn, rather than to refute and argue. Following these requirements, dialogue programmers have demonstrated that careful preparation and skillful facilitation can bring about respectful and beneficial interactions that can be a beginning toward improved relations, conflict resolution, and reconciliation. Fisher (1999) also provides a social-psychological rationale for how dialogue and conflict analysis can lead to perceptual, attitudinal, and behavioral changes that support conflict resolution and ultimately reconciliation between conflicting individuals and groups. Essentially, the frank and authentic interaction of effective dialogue induces cognitive dissonance in the minds of the participants that makes it difficult for them to persist in their misperceptions, stereotypes, and misattributions of the other group. In addition, the full complexity of the conflict, including both parties’ intentions, motivations, and actions, is held up for scrutiny with the resultant realization that the conflict consists of a complex system of interaction that is not based solely or even primarily on malevolent intentions and evil actions and in which multiple dynamics induced mutually destructive escalation. Outcomes thus include learnings about both parties, their interaction, and the complexity of the conflict, including the process of mutual entrapment, all of which lay the basis for affective reorientation and the development of trust essential to the rehumanization of the enemy.

Problemsolving workshops The creation of the PSW by John Burton, Tony deReuck and other colleagues came about as much by conflict and happenstance as by careful design and detailed planning (Fisher, 1997). The panel of facilitators in the first workshop could not agree on the structure of the meetings or the nature of their role, so in the end invited the participants to simply discuss their conflict until all parties were satisfied. Based on initial experiences, Burton (1969) articulated a theory of controlled communication to emphasize the essential role of the third party in creating an open and supportive climate for participants to mutually analyze their conflict and develop innovative ideas for resolution that could then simply be implemented through negotiations. 262

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The sequencing of the discussions essentially followed the well-known problemsolving process, with the added twist that the two conflicting groups came to join with the facilitators to form one collective in addressing the problem. The label of problemsolving was introduced later, so that their method would not be confused with traditional diplomatic practice (de Reuck, 1974), and Burton finally settled on facilitated conflict resolution (1990a). Burton (1987) also articulated a comprehensive set of rules to elucidate the do’s and don’ts of each major element of the method, including entry to the conflict, the role of the third party, the analytical stage, the search for options and re-entry, and follow-up. Christopher Mitchell worked closely with Burton and articulated a strong rationale and comprehensive description and evaluation of third-party consultancy as a voluntary and nondirective method of unofficial conflict resolution (1981). He countered the common criticisms of the PSW method, noting that resistance resides in both official and academic circles. On the practical side, Mitchell widened his experience through workshop involvements with Edward Azar, Herbert Kelman, and other leading scholar-practitioners in the field. Along with Michael Banks, another Burton protégé, Mitchell published a comprehensive handbook for collaborative, analytical problemsolving that elucidates guidelines and options for each phase of the intervention with supporting rationale (Mitchell & Banks, 1996). Herbert Kelman was a member of the panel in one of Burton’s early workshops, and went on to develop his own action research approach of interactive problem solving in which PSWs play a central role along with policy analysis and other activities by the third party (Kelman, 1986, 2010). Kelman’s work has focused primarily on the Israeli–Palestinian conflict and over the decades has made positive contributions to the peace process (Kelman, 1995). Kelman has always seen the method as supported by a social-psychological analysis that emphasizes the central role of interaction in conflict and its resolution as well as the importance of connecting individual factors to institutional and system processes (Kelman, 2007). Based on the early work of Burton and others, I developed a model of third party consultation to emphasize the essential facilitative and diagnostic role that the external team plays in the organizing and moderating of PSWs (Fisher, 1972, 1990). The model was applied in action research on intergroup conflict in a community setting (Fisher & White, 1976) and in a pilot workshop on the India–Pakistan conflict, which validated the major functions and tactics of the model (Fisher, 1980). Applications have also been carried out with multiple colleagues at the international level on the protracted conflicts in Cyprus and Moldova/Transdniester and the ongoing tragedy in Darfur/Sudan (Fisher, 1997, 2001, 2013; Williams, 2005). Vamik Volkan joined with colleagues under the sponsorship of the American Psychiatric Association in the late 1970s to organize a series of workshops on the Arab–Israeli conflict. The work draws on psychodynamic theory, while the overall method is congruent with the healing approach of psychiatry (Julius, 1991; Volkan, 1991). Although the core of the process involves PSWs, Volkan and his colleagues prefer to speak of unofficial diplomacy and psychopolitical workshops (Volkan, 1991; Volkan & Harris, 1993). Joseph Montville was involved in Volkan’s workshops and coined the term track two diplomacy to denote unofficial interactions between members of antagonistic groups to resolve conflict through PSWs, influence public opinion, and build economic cooperation (Montville, 1987). His approach also focuses on reducing the sense of victimhood and rehumanizing the enemy, and further stresses the need for healing and reconciliation (Montville, 1993). Harold Saunders used his experience from the 1980s in the regional conflicts task force of the Dartmouth Conference to articulate a public peace process. Working with colleagues, Saunders developed the unofficial method of sustained dialogue to address ethnopolitical conflicts, including Tajikistan (Saunders, 1999). The model follows five developmental stages and goes 263

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well beyond the usual definition of dialogue to engage in conflict analysis and problemsolving, while the role of the third party and the procedures of the method are quite similar to those of the PSW. Jay Rothman, a protégé of Burton and Azar, developed his own rendition of the PSW and ICR as articulated in the ARIA framework that captures the stages of Antagonism, Resonance, Invention, and Action through which the third party facilitates the interaction to transform the parties’ relationship from conflicting to cooperative (Rothman, 1997). The framework is applicable to managing intractable conflicts between identity groups at the organizational, community, and international levels. Over time the essence of the PSW has remained remarkably stable. An unofficial and impartial third party invites unofficial yet influential representatives of groups engaged in protracted and destructive intergroup conflict to come together in informal and open small group discussions to jointly analyze their shared problem and to create broad options for its deescalation and resolution. The organization and facilitation of what is usually a series of workshops is provided, typically pro bono, by practitioners who combine expertise in group dynamics with knowledge of conflict resolution at the intercommunal/international levels. The non-committal, quiet meetings of three to five days are usually held in a secluded and relaxed setting without media attention and without attribution of individual comments in any reports. The third party provides a rough agenda that typically begins with ground rules and an exchange of perceptions and positions, followed by deeper analysis of interests, needs, escalation dynamics, and interaction patterns, leading to the development of insights and realizations, which support the creation of ideas and directions for peacemaking or peacebuilding. Although many criticisms have been raised regarding PSWs (Fisher, 1997, 2007; Mitchell, 1981; Rouhana, 2000, Saunders, 2000), the most complex and challenging one focuses on the transfer of individual changes experienced by workshop participants to policymaking and decisionmaking, including negotiations. This relates to issues of the applicability, effectiveness, and evaluation of ICR identified by Fisher (1997), who developed a schematic model of transfer that links the effects of unofficial ICR interventions to both public-political constituencies and governmental-bureaucratic constituencies, including officials, diplomats, negotiators, and leaders. Fisher (1989) offers a social-psychological rationale for the transfer process that describes how PSWs can affect subjective elements to assist in prenegotiation efforts. Fisher (1997) also offers descriptive evidence of transfer effects over 76 workshops, and Fisher (2005) provides a more rigorous comparative-case analysis of nine ICR programs that had positive effects on peace processes. Using a similar research approach, Lund and McDonald (2015) offer evidence from six cases of unofficial intervention (four of which involved sustained dialogue/PSWs) showing positive transfer effects in averting conflict escalation, ending active conflicts, or transcending past conflicts. The indications are that well designed and executed programs using ICR methods can make useful and at times essential contributions to conflict prevention and resolution.

ICR and identity The field of conflict resolution has been enriched by the application of social identity theory, initially developed by Henri Tajfel and his colleagues (Fisher, 1990; Tajfel & Turner, 1979). Social identity is part of one’s self-image that derives from one’s social groups including the emotional and value significance of such memberships, and is linked to intergroup relations through a series of propositions, basically stating that maintenance of positive self-esteem and social identity require favorable social comparisons with other groups that then drive ingroup favoritism and outgroup discrimination. Thus, intergroup conflict may occur in the absence of 264

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real conflicts of interest between groups. Burton (1990b) and Azar (1990) included the need for identity and recognition of it in their lists of basic human needs, the frustration of which fuels intergroup conflict. The distinction between identity-based and interest-based conflict has been systematically delineated by Rothman (1997), who saw the former as rooted in the human needs and values that constitute a people’s social identity, and in the history, psychology, and culture of their identity groups. It is now generally accepted that identity and threats to identity play a fundamental role in how groups see and understand themselves in conflict and in the emergence, escalation, sustenance, intractability, and transformation of conflict (Brewer, 2011; Byrne, 2001; Cook-Huffman, 2009). The explanatory popularity of identity-based conflict is no coincidence given the outbreak of ethnopolitical conflicts following the end of the Cold War. As Mitchell (2014, p. 30) indicates: The record of conflicts over the past 30 years seems clearly to have shown that a large number of deep-rooted and intractable conflicts occur not because human groups, communities or governments want the same things (regrettably in short supply) but because they want different things – for themselves, but more importantly, also for others . . . One type of conflict that appears to have become dominant in recent years involves issues of ethnicity and identity, involving one party’s efforts to establish and express their right to, and reality of, a separate sense of worthwhile existence, often by establishing a new and independent political unit and not infrequently by denying the same goal to others. The power of identity dynamics in intergroup conflict came to the attention of the pioneers of ICR when they asked participants to talk about their underlying concerns and found that the need for identity and its recognition typically came to the fore. Thus, identity became a prime element in their theories of conflict analysis and their theories of practice (Azar, 1990; Burton, 1990a, Kelman, 1986, 2001; Fisher, 1990). Therefore, part of the rationale for ICR is that conflict intervention must deal with identity groups and engage informal representatives in mutually exploring the needs of the groups and the means for satisfying them (Fisher, 1997). Kelman (2001) proposes that PSWs can analyze how identity issues exacerbate intergroup conflicts and offer a forum where conflicting identities can be modified and “negotiated” so that the affirmation of one does not require the negation of the other. Given that group identities are social constructions, elements can be added or subtracted without jeopardizing the core of the identity, and it is also possible, although very difficult, to develop a shared or transcendent identity that incorporates the previously conflicting identities (Brewer, 2011; Kelman, 2001).

ICR and culture The conflict resolution field has demonstrated a varied response to the existence of culture; from a denial that cultural variation is important to a growing realization that it is fundamentally significant in both the analysis and resolution of conflicts (Avruch, 2012; Ramsbotham, Woodhouse, & Miall, 2016). Early proponents of PSWs did not give much direct attention to culture and some, particularly Burton, argued that the method and its underlying analysis based in universal human needs had wide applicability across cultures (Burton & Sandole, 1986). These assertions were countered by Kevin Avruch and Peter Black, who argued that the PSW approach is not culture free and needs to take culture seriously (Avruch & Black, 1990). Burton (1990a) acknowledged the importance of culture as a “satisfier” of human needs for identity and recognition as well as the reality of cultural variation in how different cultures deal with conflict. 265

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The culture issue for ICR thus encompasses two elements: the cultural generalizability of the approach and the need for cultural sensitivity and “cultural fluency” (LeBaron, 2003) in its interventions. Given that ICR is embedded in the context of Western and Northern social science and practice, its adoption of open discussion and direct confrontation is more compatible with the values of individualistic and egalitarian cultures. Thus, collectivist cultures that value social harmony, regulation by authorities, and indirect methods of managing conflict may be less appropriate contexts for ICR interventions. At the same time, ICR is not compatible with the authoritative and adversarial approach to conflict management historically taken in most cultures, and may have more in common with small-group, community-level, consensus-based approaches of many indigenous societies. It is instructive to note that each group or society has its own “culture of conflict” prescribing the norms, practices, and institutions for managing conflict, that is, how conflict is defined, perceived, evaluated, and addressed (Ross, 1993). Thus, regardless of ICR’s cultural generalizability, it is incumbent on interveners to carry out a “cultural analysis” (Avruch & Black, 1993), even though they may possess effective cross-cultural skills. This analysis would enable the third party to not only understand the nature of the host cultures and to increase the applicability of the intervention method, but also to serve as interpreters of cultural differences in the issues of the conflict or the processes of addressing it. It is clear that ICR needs to increase its cultural sensitivity and effectiveness in order to realize its potential as a global method of unofficial peacemaking.

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22 IDENTITY MATTERS Social identity and social change Celia Cook-Huffman

Identity categories, the labels we use to name and define meaningful shared ingroup defining and outgroup separating social categorizations, are an essential part of being human and fundamental to explaining intergroup behaviors. Social identities, aspects of our sense of self stemming from memberships in social groups (Tajfel, 1978; Tajfel & Turner, 1979) are critical components of two types of human behavior: intergroup conflict and collective movements for social change. Academics from various disciplines have theorized how identity impacts and drives intergroup conflict (Azar, 1990; Burton, 1990; Galtung, 1967; Kriesberg, 1982; Northrup, 1989; Kelman, 2006; Tajfel, 1978; Tajfel & Turner, 1979). Additionally, researchers have grappled with the identity changes needed to address, resolve, and transform identity-based conflicts (Allport, 1954; Brown, 2000; Burton, 1987; Cuhadar & Dayton, 2012; Dovidio et al., 2014; Fiol et al., 2009; Folger et al., 1993; Kelman, 2006; Northrup, 1989; Pettigrew & Tropp, 2006; Rothman, 2012). Other research has explored the role of social identity ingroup formation and the mobilization of collectives for social change efforts (Dovidio et al., 2009; Drury & Reicher, 2009; Reicher et al., 2005; Saguy et al., 2009). This research argues that the ability to perceive of oneself as a member of a collective is necessary for engaging in collective action, making movements for social change possible (Reicher et al., 2005; Reicher & Haslam, 2015; Turner, 1982). Without a shared social identity, an “us,” there is no “we” to act. Conversely, without a “them,” there is no target to mobilize against (Drury & Reicher, 2009; Tajfel & Turner, 1979; Wright & Lubenksy, 2008). Categorization is the basis for collective action. Whether the goal is to wage war or to organize for social change, collective mobilization requires a shared social identity whereby people understand themselves as members of the collective, not as individuals (Reicher et al., 2005). As conflict resolution/transformation theorists and practitioners, we are thus left with a paradox. Conflict is central to social change processes. It serves as the “fire under the boiler of social change” (Cooley, 1918, cited in Dixon et  al., 2010, p. 80), and yet, as the metaphor suggests, fire can burn out of control. Particularly when conflict processes engage parties’ core identities, the potential for small conflicts to escalate into highly polarized, intractable contests between “us” and “them” increases (Azar & Burton, 1986; Kelman, 2006; Kriesberg, 1998, 1982; Rothman, 2012; Tajfel & Turner, 1979). The destructive and deadly nature of intergroup conflict suggests we need theories and strategies for conflict resolution/transformation that address identity dynamics. At the same time, given the pernicious persistence of social 269

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inequality and prejudice, we need theories and strategies that help groups find common voices to mobilize for collective action that challenges discriminatory practices and inequalities embedded in the structures and cultures of our societies (Burrows, 1996; Reicher et al., 2005, 2010; Sharp, 1973; Wright & Lubensky, 2009). The question then becomes, can we theorize the role of identity in conflict in a way that enhances its capacity to serve as a catalyst for social change while minimizing the polarizing, violence-justifying dynamics that often result from ingroup– outgroup defined relationships? This chapter reviews research grounded in social identity and contact theory, examining how strategies intended to address identity-based conflicts may undermine the ability of low power groups to work for equality and social justice. While these strategies may successfully mitigate intergroup bias, they can have a negative impact on ingroup solidarity among minority group members, which decreases support for social change work and social change policies (Dixon et al., 2010; Saguy et al., 2008a, 2009; Wright & Lubensky, 2009). Here again is the paradox; if we treat intergroup conflict “as the problem, and intergroup harmony as the solution” (Dixon et al., 2010, p. 80) we risk substituting harmony for justice, reinforcing systems and structures of inequality, and undermining the ability of groups to engage in collective action for social change. If intervention goals include building capacity to challenge structural inequality, the research suggests intervention strategies need to carefully assess how to engage identity categories and category attributes in specific intergroup encounters to build majority group support and sustain minority group solidarity for collective social change efforts that support social justice efforts.

Defining identity Identities are socially constructed, context-specific phenomena that help folks make sense of themselves in the world (Brubaker & Cooper, 2000; Tajfel, 1978, 1982; Turner, 1982). The value and meaning of what it means to be “me” or “us” is specific to a time and place, bound by history, narrations of history, and the social and political needs of a given moment (Black, 2003; Cook-Huffman, 2000, 2010; Reicher, 2004). The literature on intergroup conflict focuses on social identities, those aspects of our sense of self rooted in identification with particular groups. Social identities are created in relationship with particular “others,” and specific attributes and understandings of “them” are selected and constructed to serve particular purposes in how we narrate and present who “we” are, and who “we” are not. The borders and boundaries of “us” are often permeable; the salience of particular identities shift as may the significant attributes of a particular category (Reicher, 2004; Tajfel, 1978, 1981, 1982; Tajfel & Turner, 1979; Turner & Giles, 1981).

Identity and conflict Identities play various roles in conflict. They serve as boundary markers, delineating who is “us” and who is “them,” and may be core issues driving conflict. They are how individuals and collectives are mobilized for collective action, and are invoked to claim legitimacy, status, and power. At all levels of conflict, from the individual need to save face or manage image threats, to the collective action of group movements like “Black Lives Matter,” or the mobilization of a nation to defeat an enemy, identities matter in conflict. Once identity becomes a central issue, conflicts often move towards intractability. Intractable identity-based conflicts are often resistant to issue-based resolution strategies and resolving/ transforming these conflicts requires tactics that specifically address identity issues (Byrne, 2001; 270

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Cuhadar & Dayton, 2012; Fiol et al., 2009; Folger et al., 1993; Kelman, 2006; Kriesberg, 1982; Northrup, 1989; Rothman, 1997).

Theory: Conflict and social identity Numerous theories hypothesize the relationship between group identification and intergroup bias, hostility, and conflict. Designing resolution/transformation strategies that successfully address issues of inequality and social justice requires understanding the sometimes nuanced, sometimes fundamental, differences among and between these theories. Theorists of intergroup conflict often posit a causal and direct relationship between ingroup favoritism and outgroup derogation. They argue the act of identifying as part of a collective is sufficient to trigger intergroup comparisons and prejudices resulting in behaviors and attitudes that favor ingroup members and disadvantage or disparage outgroup members. The greater an individual’s identification with the ingroup, the more likely they are to engage in “ingroup love” and engage in “outgroup hate” (Brewer, 1999, p. 442) demonstrated through perceptions of ingroup solidarity and dislike and distrust of outgroup members, and behaviors that benefit the ingroup at the expense of the outgroup (Dovidio et  al., 2009; Tajfel & Turner, 1979; Hornsey, 2008; Sumner, 1906; LeVine & Campbell, 1972). Social Identity Theory (SIT) and Social Categorization Theory (SCT) challenge this taken for granted relationship and ask under what conditions high ingroup identification leads to ingroup favoritism and outgroup prejudice and hostility, and under what conditions does it not (Brewer, 1999; Reicher et al., 2010; Wright & Lubensky, 2009), Brewer (1999) argues that even under conditions of scarcity, when any act of ingroup favoritism happens at the expense of the outgroup, one cannot assume the ingroup holds biased attitudes towards the outgroup. It is possible ingroup bias can result in preferential ingroup treatment without any negative intent towards the outgroup; “ingroup love” does not automatically lead to “outgroup hate” (Brewer, 1999; Oakes, 2002). Reicher et al. (2010) argue rather than being automatic, clear contingencies must exist for categorization to result in discrimination: categories of comparison must be socially available and salient in the specific context for both ingroup members and outgroup members, ingroup members must choose to compare themselves to outgroup members on the specific valued attributes, and groups must seek to differentiate themselves in ways that lead to anti-social behaviors rather than pro-social behaviors. While ingroup “differentiation can be a generic group process, the specific behavioral outcomes of the process cannot be specified a priori; they require one to understand the specific belief system and hence the valued dimensions of comparison associated with specific group interest” (Reicher et al., 2010, p. 11). In seeking to understand intergroup identity-driven conflicts, context is everything. SIT and SCT argue there are three primary motivations for ingroup identification that influence intra and intergroup behaviors and that can influence if, and when, intergroup relations shift from ingroup favoritism to outgroup competition, discrimination, and derogation. Understanding these motivations is critical for resolution/transformation strategies seeking to shift perceptions and behaviors in intergroup conflicts (Dovidio et al., 2009). The first motivation is the desire for a positive self-concept. Social identities have value and emotional significance for one’s sense of self. Tajfel (1978, 1981) argued people want to achieve a positive sense of self. Identification with a group links personal sense of self to the value of the group. For membership to confer positive value, the ingroup must compare favorably to an outgroup. Therefore, ingroup members can be motivated to achieve or maintain positive distinctiveness in relationship to relevant outgroups along dimensions that have value (Hornsey, 2008; Dovidio et al., 2014; Reicher et al., 2010; Tajfel, 1978, 1981; Tajfel & Turner, 1979). 271

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The search for positive distinctiveness may lead indirectly to intergroup competition and conflict by influencing negative perceptions of the outgroup (outgroup members are perceived as more different, less trustworthy, and less likely to have similar values) and bias selective perception, memory, and helping behaviors in favor of ingroup members. This ethnocentrism towards the ingroup is not in and of itself malevolent, but can create “fertile ground” for outgroup bias (Brewer, 1996, p. 442) and become a self-fulfilling prophecy. The desire for positive distinctiveness can lead directly to intergroup conflict when groups engage in negative comparisons and outgroups discrimination to achieve and/or maintain positive status vis-a-vis other groups (Tajfel, 1978; Tajfel & Turner, 1979). The second and third motivations are conceptualized in Brewer’s (1996) optimal distinctiveness theory as opposing needs; a need for inclusion and a need for differentiation (Brewer, 1996; Hornsey, 2008). The balance between these needs is met when social categorizations allow for the inclusion needs of belonging and assimilation to be “met within the social group” while the “need for differentiation is met by intergroup distinctions” (Brewer, 1996, p. 296). These motivations provide similar pathways to intergroup conflict. Identification and inclusion create ingroup cohesion by developing a coherent and clear sense of what it means to be “us,” while the process of differentiating one’s group from others creates clear markers of how “they” are not like “us.” Again, the processes of emphasizing distinctiveness create optimal conditions for developing distrust and hostility towards outgroups. Theorizing the motivations underlying the pursuit of distinctiveness that leads to ingroup favoritism vs. outgroup derogation becomes important when designing strategies to address intergroup conflict.

Resolution and transformation Social identity theorists, conflict theorists and conflict practitioners utilize several models to address identity-based conflict. One strategy involves engaging conflict groups in working on a common project, or superordinate goal, that requires intergroup cooperation (Fiol et al., 2009; Sherif et al., 1988). Research suggests this strategy can reduce intergroup conflict, but in some circumstances it may exacerbate it. A few related strategies focus on shifting the salience of specific identity categorizations. Much of this work is grounded in Contact Theory (Allport, 1954). The research on Contact Theory suggests while contact does not always result in reducing intergroup prejudice by changing attitudes (Cuhadar & Dayton, 2012), it often reduces intergroup hostility, particularly for historically disadvantaged groups. There is substantial evidence that positive intergroup contact leads to increased positive attitudes towards the outgroup, particularly when contact is between group members of equal status, when participants are working towards a common goal, when they are cooperatively interdependent, and when the social environment is supportive of intergroup contact. Three of the most common strategies, recommended because of their effectiveness in generalizing positive effects from the individuals involved in the contact encounter to the broader outgroup level, are decategorization, category salience, and recategorization (Cuhadar & Dayton, 2012). Decategorization strategies make group memberships less salient, allowing participants to be seen as individuals rather than prototypical group members (Cuhadar & Dayton, 2012; Gaertner et al., 1999). Critics of this model argue it does not promote generalizations back to the intergroup categories because participants can be seen as atypical. They propose instead a strategy of category salience where intergroup categories are maintained during a pleasant contact experience. Because one encounters a “typical” member of the outgroup, theorists argue 272

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generalizability to the group as a whole is more likely (Cuhadar & Dayton, 2012). A third strategy, the common ingroup identity model, argues recategorization is the best strategy for generalizing the positive effects of contact beyond those immediately involved. Members of separate groups are induced to see themselves as part of an overarching superordinate, or shared identity, extending ingroup favoritism and positive attitudes towards former outgroup members to the “new” ingroup members (Cuhadar & Dayton, 2012; Dovidio et al., 2014, 2009; Gaertner et  al., 1999). However, research on recategorization has found, in some instances, that this model reinforces rather than mitigates intergroup bias. Arguments grounded in Brewer’s (1996) theory of optimal distinctiveness suggest superordinate identities, based on what groups have in common, threaten distinctiveness and therefore lead to increased bias as groups seek to reinvigorate category distinctiveness. Recategorization strategies may also fail when groups with a long history of oppositionally defined identities believe the superordinate identity aligns too closely with outgroup interests and is therefore perceived as a threat to the subgroup identity (Crisp et  al., 2006; Dovidio et  al., 2009; Fiol et al., 2009; Kriesberg, 2003). These findings have led to the development of a fourth approach, the dual identity model (Dovidio et al., 2009). In this model both a superordinate identity and subgroup identities are maintained so that identity threat is not triggered when the benefits of recategorization are achieved. Support for recategorization strategies has been consistent across a variety of studies. Diverse methods of creating inclusive representations of different groups reduce intergroup bias and can increase positive behaviors like helping and self-disclosure among former ingroup/outgroup members (Dovidio et al., 2009).

Harmony vs. justice The goal of these strategies is to end deeply destructive, deadly, conflict and to build peace. Recent research, however, suggests these goals, while worthy, may in fact come at the expense of deeper structural change; they may promote harmony through positive feelings about the “other,” but they do not promote justice. We again encounter our paradox. These strategies may be implicated in the “reproduction of injustice” (Dixon et al., 2010, p. 79) if, in essence, they rob disadvantaged groups of the social psychological tools they need to believe themselves worthy of justice and the sense of agency needed to engage in social change work (Dixon et al., 2010). Critiques of recategorization strategies focus on two areas. The first argues these models of conflict intervention have different impacts on members of advantaged groups vs. members of disadvantaged groups, which undermines the willingness of both high status and low status groups to work for social change. The second critique argues that the underlying changes required for contact to be successful undermine the very processes needed for viable, vibrant, social movements to emerge, sustain themselves, and work to challenge systemic inequalities; they fundamentally weaken the ability of groups to mobilize for social change work.

Critique I Advantaged group members are more likely to experience attitude shifts, signaling reduced prejudice against members of the outgroup (in this case the disadvantaged group) while members of disadvantaged groups are less likely to experience a change in attitude based on contact. When disadvantaged group members shift, reporting increased positive perceptions of the outgroup, the unintended consequence is they then “underestimate the injustice and discrimination 273

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suffered by their group, diminishing their support for action to challenge inequality” (Dixon et al., 2010, p. 76; Dovidio et al., 2014; Saguy et al., 2008a, 2009). Work in South Africa reveals white South Africans who report positive contact with black South Africans are more supportive of government policies designed to overcome the country’s historic racial inequities. Black South Africans who report positive contact with white South Africans were inclined to be less supportive of these policies (Dixon et al., 2010). The researchers observed that shifts in attitude toward greater tolerance resulted in disadvantaged group members having greater trust in the advantaged group, which reduced their “perceptions of racial inequality and support for the implementation of social change” (Dixon et al., 2010, p. 77). These findings have been duplicated in other studies, suggesting while contact improves perceptions of the outgroup, it decreases low power parties’ support for social change efforts that would create greater equality for their group (Dixon et al, 2010; Saguy et al., 2009; Wright & Lubensky, 2009). The implication of this research is that contact between members of advantaged and disadvantaged groups has the potential to shift attitudes at an interpersonal level, but it leaves unchallenged the structures of inequality and the ideologies and beliefs supporting them. Contact strategies have succeeded in diminishing a polarized “us” vs. “them” view of the world. They may contribute to building a more equal and just society by providing a basis for more stable intergroup relationships. Yet, if the contact experience does not acknowledge intergroup disparities, the motivation of both high and lower status groups to work for true structural change is undermined (Dovidio et al., 2014). If the new “us” doesn’t challenge or force advantaged groups to see their advantage as illegitimate, then “us” simply puts a kinder, gentler, friendlier, face on discriminatory practices. Addressing these challenges may lie in carefully attending to the structure and content of contact encounters. First, status differences matter in terms of how groups experience recategorization. High status groups often like the common identity strategy more than low status groups because high status group norms tend to dominate the shared identity. This suggests it may be less important to ensure equality of status in intergroup contact situations. If manufactured equality during contact masks real structural inequalities, then other qualities of the contact situation may be more important for the transformation of intergroup conflict situations (Saguy et al., 2008a). Second, majority/minority groups want to talk about different things. Advantaged groups like to focus on commonalities and disadvantaged groups want to talk about differences. Colorblind approaches to conversations for example, or an emphasis on personal responsibility as a positive shared attribute, serve to diffuse structural inequalities and mask group-based privileges (Saguy et al., 2008b). If instead the narrative of the shared identity includes a focus on commonalities as well as key differences, then a different kind of conversation may be possible. An explicit goal of valuing equality as part of a common identity, coupled with conversation about inequality, may create a path for the status of the privileged group to be seen as illegitimate, which promotes both intergroup understanding and a greater willingness to address issues of power in the intergroup exchanges (Saguy et al., 2008a, 2009). Differences in advantaged group vs. disadvantaged group approaches to social change also point to the dual identity model as a strategy that may overcome some of the dangers outlined above. Maintaining subgroup identities simultaneously with a common group or superordinate identity may facilitate the ability of disadvantaged groups to avoid simple assimilation into identities predominantly defined by high status group values and norms, creating more space for conversations about power, status legitimacy, and inequality (Saguy et al., 2008a). Research supports the idea that a dual identity process, which acknowledges and values separate subgroup 274

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identities as important components of an integrated common ingroup identity, can lead to positive actions for equality from members of both high status and low status groups (Dovidio et al., 2014).

Critique II The second critique focuses on the ability of groups to mobilize for social change work. Wright and Lubensky (2009) argue it is not just the content of contact encounters that are problematic. They suggest the very nature of contact strategies undermines the necessary conditions for collective identification that make collective action possible. Social identification makes collective action possible (Reicher et  al., 2005; Wright & Lubensky, 2009). There are four key areas where the goals of contact encounters directly undermine the conditions necessary for collective action: collective identification, negative characterization of the outgroup, recognition of shared collective disadvantage, and clearly articulated group boundaries (Drury & Reicher, 2009; Wright & Lubensky, 2009). The first requirement for collective action is collective social identification. Reicher et al. (2005) argue the process of depersonalization, the ability to see oneself as a group member and to respond to events based on their importance for the group rather than oneself, is the foundation of group action. This happens through identification, when a group identity is salient (members are aware of the category) and members identify with the category. High identification and high salience are associated with increased likelihood of members participating in collective action (Wright & Lubensky, 2009). The goal of contact encounters is to reduce both category salience and ingroup identification. Decategorization seeks to do this by personalizing the experience so former group members see each other as unique beings, not as “us” and “them.” Recategorization models shift the strategy in the opposite direction creating a superordinate category so everyone is seen as a member of the same group. The goal of contact is to create distance between members and the ingroup category and lessen one’s commitment to ingroup norms. The dual identity model has the potential to leave some room for strong identification with a subgroup identity. The challenge with this model is that the superordinate identity is often dominated by advantaged group attributes. Accepting the superordinate identity as a defining category for oneself lessens identification with the disadvantaged identity, reducing its ability to function as a basis for collective action. For the purpose of contact, the collective action seeks to improve intergroup attitudes, not challenge injustice (Wright & Lubensky, 2009). This points to the second area of contradiction, outgroup characterizations. Successful movements for collective change require a villain; they need a target for both their action and their emotions. Negative stereotypes of the outgroup as the “bad guys” help to solidify the justification for the action and solidify the “we” through the experience of being the target or victim; “we” are threatened by “them.” Negative characterizations of the outgroup also help to solidify ingroup identification, concretize actions, and provide moral justification for ingroup actions, which in turn strengthens the sense of the ingroup as an effective change agent (Drury & Reicher, 2009; Reicher et al., 2015; Wright & Lubensky, 2009). The primary goal of intergroup contact is to shift negative perceptions of the outgroup and to create positive feelings towards outgroup members to improve intergroup relations (Wright & Lubensky, 2009, p. 12). Third, SIT argues the key to collective action aimed at social change is the perception by low status groups that their status is unacceptable and current intergroup status relationships are unfair, unstable, and illegitimate. Recognition of disadvantage, that “we” are living in an unjust 275

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world, creates a sense of shared grievance around unfair treatment. Contact theory calls for equal status interactions in contact encounters to successfully disrupt intergroup bias. This eliminates intergroup comparisons along a significant dimension necessary for collective action by shifting attention away from narratives of inequity and understood dominant and subordinate identities (Cuhadar & Dayton, 2012; Drury & Reicher, 2009; Saguy et al., 2009; Tajfel & Turner, 1979; Wright & Lubensky, 2009). SIT argues the final requirement for social change action is a sense of boundary impermeability. SIT posits collective efforts for change happen when group boundaries are perceived as fixed (permeable boundaries lead to social mobility and individual change strategies). Boundary rigidity also contributes to the sense of a shared fate, and supports the perception the system is not legitimate, reinforcing the antecedents of change efforts. Finally, impermeable boundaries contribute to a sense of collective efficacy as you know others are more likely to act with you rather than pursue individual strategies. Contact strategies seek to blur intergroup boundaries, discounting and eliminating them when possible, to enhance perceptions of similarity and sameness. This critique suggests that contact strategies that seek to reduce the salience of group identities and members’ identification with them diminish the distance between groups, make less visible status inequalities, undermine the social psychological components necessary for disadvantaged groups to establish a strong group identity, name their shared fate of injustice, develop appropriate emotional responses (anger, outrage, empowerment, empathy) and engage in collective action to engender social change. A strong collective identity is necessary for collective action, and without it, low power groups will not be able to establish themselves as a collective change agent able to engage in the struggle necessary to create structural change; justice may lose out to harmony.

Strategies of response The goal of social change efforts and intergroup contact encounters is often the same, to disrupt and challenge harmful relationships, end inequities, and create a more just society. We are returned to the questions we began with: Can we theorize the role of identity in conflict in ways that enhance its capacity to serve as a catalyst for social change while minimizing destructive intergroup dynamics? Can we work to end violence (direct, structural, and cultural) by empowering low status groups to engage in social justice work and inviting high status groups to question the legitimacy of their privilege, and also work for social change? More than a specific answer, I want to offer a framework for moving into these questions. Reicher (2004) argues a key strategy for engaging with identity-based conflicts is understanding identities as both products and projects. Identities come to have power and meaning in a specific time and place; meanings are not universal or static. If we conceptualize any given “identity” as the product of an identification project, we can begin to see why a specific identity comes to be defined in a particular way for a particular purpose. Thinking of identities as products not only allows us to examine the mechanisms of production, but also to see how identities themselves are changed and transformed during conflict, and over time. Adopting this framework offers several advantages as a way to begin to answer our questions. First, it allows us to avoid objectifying identity, helping us to explore instead when and how moving, negotiable categories harden into fixed meanings – when is this a good thing, and when is it dangerous? What criteria will we use to decide? Second, it allows us to see who is doing what kinds of work to shape and define the identity categories. Who is shaping the salient attributes of the category? What impacts do their voices have on others? How do their choices influence perceptions of self, other, power, and agency? Entrepreneurs of identity can work towards hate; they can also work towards solidarity and hope (Reicher et al., 2005). 276

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Finally, it allows us to see ourselves as entrepreneurs of identity as we seek to construct resolution and transformation strategies that work towards achieving both negative peace and positive peace. It asks us to be clear about what our project is – resolution, transformation, harmony, justice, waging nonviolent conflict, or staging a revolution? It offers a way to be thoughtful about the borders and boundaries we seek to establish and those we seek to change, to create opportunities for multiple voices to contribute to meaning-making, and to explore new ways of managing the complexities of identity, creating processes that strengthen social change efforts and moderating those leading to intergroup violence. As practitioners, we become entrepreneurs of identity, making specific choices about what categories and what attributes we try to make salient to transform intergroup relations as a means to building a just and positive peace.

Conclusion Reducing intergroup violence, hostility, and tension are often critical aspects of creating a stable space allowing communities to move towards more peaceful coexistence. Overcoming intergroup polarization, prejudice, distrust, self-serving bias, and attribution error are key elements of creating robust, functional, multicultural communities. The need to see one another as part of the human community seems like an obvious step towards building more just communities. Yet we know just communities do not exist when inequalities and inequities divide groups. What the research on social identity, contact, and social change suggests is HOW we build a common vision of our humanity is critical to our ability to build a just community. We need strategies of bridging intergroup divides that strengthen the ability of both advantaged and disadvantaged groups to work for justice and equality. This research suggests that in our efforts to overcome identity-based conflicts it is important we not lose sight of the injustice and inequities that may be one of the reasons ingroup/outgroup characterizations exist – and are needed.

References Allport, G. (1954). The Nature of Prejudice. New York: Addison-Wesley. Azar, E. (1990). The Management of Protracted Social Conflict: Theory and Cases. Aldershot, MA: Dartmouth. Azar, E., & Burton, J. (1986). International Conflict Resolution. Chichester, UK: Wheatsheaf Books. Black, P.W. (2003). Identities. In S. Cheldelin, D. Druckman, & L. Fast (Eds.), Conflict: From Analysis to Intervention (pp. 120–39), New York: Continuum. Brewer, M. (1996). When contact is not enough: Social identity and intergroup cooperation. International Journal of Intercultural Relations, 20(3/4), 291–303. Brewer, M. B. (1999). The psychology of prejudice: Ingroup love or outgroup hate? Journal of Social Issues, 55(3), 429–44. Brown, R. (2000). Social identity theory: Past achievements, current problems and future challenges. European Journal of Social Psychology, 30, 745–78. Brubaker, R., & Cooper, F. (2000). Beyond “identity.” Theory and Society, 29(1), 1–47. Burrows, R. (1996). The Strategy of Nonviolent Defense: A Gandhian Approach. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Burton, J. (1987). Resolving Deep-Rooted Conflicts. Lanham, MD: University Press of America. Burton, J. (1990). Conflict: Human Needs Theory. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Byrne, S. (2001). Consociational and civil society approaches to peacebuilding in Northern Ireland. Journal of Peace Research, 38(2), 327–52. Cook-Huffman, C. (2000). Who do they say we are? Framing social identity and gender in church conflict. In P. Coy & L. Woehrle (Eds.), Social Conflicts and Collective Identities (pp. 115–32). Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Cook-Huffman, C. (2010). The role of identity in conflict. In D. J. D. Sandole, S. Byrne, I. Sandole Staroste & J. Senehi (Eds.), Handbook of Conflict Analysis and Resolution (pp. 19–31). Abingdon, UK: Routledge.

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Celia Cook-Huffman Crisp, R. J., Stone, C. H., & Hall, N. R. (2006). Recategorization and subgroup identification: Predicting and preventing threats from common ingroups. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 32(2), 230–43. Cuhadar, E., & Dayton, B. (2012). The social psychology of identity and inter-group conflict: From theory to practice. International Studies Perspectives, 12, 273–93. Dixon, J., Tropp, L., Durrheim, K., & Tredoux, C. (2010). “Let them eat harmony”: Prejudice-reduction strategies and attitudes of historically disadvantaged groups. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 19(2), 76–80. Dovidio, J. Gaertner, S., & Saguy, T. (2009). Commonality and the complexity of “we”: Social attitudes and social change. PSPR, 13(1), 3–20. Dovidio, J., Saguy, T., Ufkes, E., Scheepers, D., & Gaertner, S. (2014). Inclusive identity and the psychology of social change. 17th Sydney Symposium of Social Psychology – Social Psychology and Politics, Mar. 17–20. www.sydneysymposium.unsw.edu.au/2014/chapters/DovidioSSSP2014.pdf Drury, J., & Reicher, S. (2009). Collective psychological empowerment as a model of social change: Researching crowds and power. Journal of Social Issues, 65(4), 707–25. Fiol, C., Pratt, J., & O’Connor, E. (2009). Managing intractable identity conflicts. Academy of Management Review, 34(1), 32–55. Folger, J., Poole, M., & Stutman, R. (1993). Working through Conflict. New York: Harper Collins College Publishers. Gaertner, S., Dovidio, J., Nier, J., Ward, C., & Banker, B. (1999). Across cultural divides: The value of a superordinate identity. In D. Prentice & D. Miller (Eds.), Cultural Divides: Understanding and Overcoming Group Conflict (pp. 173–212). New York: Russell Sage Foundation. Galtung. J. (1967). Theories of Peace: A Synthetic Approach to Peace Thinking. International Peace Research Institute, Oslo. www.transcend.org/files/Galtung_Book_unpub_Theories_of_Peace_-_A_Synthetic_ Approach_to_Peace_Thinking_1967.pdf Hornsey, M. J. (2008). Social identity theory and self-categorization theory: A historical review. Social and Personality Psychology Compass, 2(1), 204–22. Kelman, H. (2006). Interests, relationships, identities: Three central issues for individuals and groups in negotiating their social environment. Annual Review of Psychology, 57, 1–26. Kriesberg, L. (1982). Social Conflicts. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall. Kriesberg, L. (1998). Constructive Conflicts: From Escalation to Resolution. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Kriesberg, L. (2003). Constructive Conflicts: From Escalation to Resolution. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. LeVine, R., & Campbell, D. (1972). Ethnocentrism: Theories of Conflict, Ethnic Attitudes, and Group Behavior. New York: Wiley. Northrup, T. (1989). The dynamics of identity in personal and social conflict. In L. Kriesberg, T. Northrup, & S. Thorson (Eds.), Intractable Conflicts and their Transformation (pp. 55–82). Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press. Oakes, P. (2002). Psychological groups and political psychology: A response to Huddy’s “Critical examination of social identity theory.” Political Psychology, 23(4). 809–24. Pettigrew, T., & Tropp, L. (2006). A meta-analytic test of intergroup contact theory. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 90, 751–83. Reicher, S., (2004). The context of social identity: Domination, resistance, and change. Political Psychology, 25(6), 921–45. Reicher, S., & Haslam, S. (2015). May the force be with you: Social identity, power and the perils of powerlessness. In D. Sindic, M. Barreto, & R. Costa-Lopes (Eds.), Power and Identity (pp. 117–39). London: Psychology Press. Reicher, S., Hopkins, N., Levine, M., & Rath, R. (2005). Entrepreneurs of solidarity: Social identity as a basis for mass communication. International Review of the Red Cross, 87(860), 621–37. Reicher, S. D., Spears, R., & Haslam, A. S. (2010). The social identity approach in social psychology. In M. Wetherell & C. T. Mohanty (Eds.), Sage Identities Handbook (pp. 45–62). London: Sage. Rothman, J. (1997). Resolving Identity-Based Conflict in Nations, Organizations, and Communities. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Rothman, J. (2012). From Identity-Based Conflict to Identity-Based Cooperation: The ARIA Approach in Theory and Practice. New York: Springer. Saguy, T., Dovidio, J., & Pratto, F. (2008a). Beyond contact: Intergroup contact in the context of power relations. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 43(2), 432–45.

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23 MAKING PEACE PROFITABLE Introducing peaceology as the cultural and identity building blocks of a new peaceful world industry, beginning in Chicago Peter K. B. St. Jean Based on over two decades of multi-methods sociological research that mainly include ethnography, participatory observation, focus groups, spatial analysis, and filmmaking in Chicago, this chapter proposes that violence persists in Chicago, and potentially elsewhere, largely because of the development of a culture and identity paradigm that has made violence profitable. This process is termed the Triple C Paradigm: Concerns about the Costs of Crime (St. Jean, 2017). Thus, while engaging in these intensive research and action episodes, a series of social actions were observed that have led me to identify on the ground an alternative to the Triple C Paradigm that, if further recognized and developed, can have tremendous implications for a more peaceful Chicago, and beyond. This newly emerging culture and identity paradigm is termed the Triple P Paradigm (Promoting the Profits of Peace) (St. Jean, 2017). The Triple P Paradigm generates thoughts and actions that rest on the fundamental belief that a major solution to violence is to make peace profitable. It is proposed here as a potentially sustainable antidote to violence, crime, delinquency, and their associated troubles. The transition from the Triple C Paradigm to the Triple P Paradigm moves beyond a paradigm shift (Kuhn, 1962) to a Paradigm Upgrade. This is because the power of the emerging Triple P Paradigm is viewed as having more complexity than that of a paradigm shift, or puzzle solving as Kuhn (1962) terms it. Paradigm upgrade is herein characterized as the introduction of a new research question that is so powerful that it drives new angles of scientific inquiry and action to solve an overall puzzle of concern in simultaneous conceptual and empirical ways. Add to that, a Paradigm Upgrade is calibrated to considerably improve human conditions that are compromised by the prolonged inertia of the unresolved problem. What follows includes an outline of the nature of the inertia of violence in Chicago, some empirical evidence associated with the Triple C and Triple P Paradigms, the research design, and an outline of key findings and implications.

The violence problem in Chicago, and the need for an upgrade in paradigms One hundred and twenty-five years ago, when the first sociology department was established in the United States (US) at the University of Chicago (Abbott, 1999), scholars and practitioners alike were preoccupied with understanding and addressing an issue that still haunts Chicago 280

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today: the persistence of high violence, especially on the south and west sides of the city. These spatial patterns of persistent violence remained fairly stable over the decades, but in 2016 the violence worsened. This is even after over a century of scholarship making Chicago the most studied US city (Sampson, 2012), with a vast number of books, scholarly articles, reports, theses, and dissertations about violence within it, and numerous interventions by practitioners. For instance, compared to ten years before, in 2016, Chicago recorded a 70 percent increase in homicides: 448 in 2007 and 764 in 2016 (St. Jean, 2017). What has continued to go wrong? Scrambling for creative and effective strategies to address violence problems in Chicago, some have proposed desperate measures. For example, at the beginning of his tenure in office, President Donald Trump threatened to send federal troops into Chicago if local authorities could not address the city’s alarming problems of violence (Lee, 2017). Others have recommended the deployment of army National Guard troops in high crime areas of Chicago (Byrne & Dardick, 2017) and interventions from the United Nations (Janssen, 2017). As such unconventional suggestions flourished, scholars from the heavily funded Chicago Crime Lab admitted that violence problems in Chicago were still not well understood (Kapustin et al., 2017). Equally alarming, as I have observed directly while conducting field research in Chicago, is the consideration by community elders with gang affiliated pasts to engage in mass killings of seeming troubled youth, some of whom are their own offspring (St. Jean, 2017). After several failed attempts, city stakeholders are still seeking answers as high violence persists in the face of considerable police brutality, mass incarceration, school failures, structural disadvantage, and other associated problems.

Research design The data sources that inform this chapter have been gathered on a continuous basis since 1997 when I began graduate studies at the University of Chicago, Department of Sociology, and continue today. Research began with ethnography and participant observation in Bronzeville and other sections of the south side of Chicago and has expanded since 2011 to include sections of the west and north sides of Chicago. One of the projects, the Wentworth Area Neighborhood Study (WANS), resulted in the 2007 University of Chicago Press publication of Pockets of Crime: Broken Windows, Collective Efficacy, and the Criminal Point of View. The participant observation engagements through which many of the data were gathered include conflict resolution and peace intelligence sessions with many formerly incarcerated youth, adults, and elders in these sections of Chicago. These data are mainly gathered though Our Peace Palace located in Roseland on Chicago’s South Side. Activities are coordinated with research and action efforts at the Urban Peace Lab within the Department of Sociology at North Park University. On an ongoing basis, a team of researchers that includes undergraduate students coordinates events with formerly incarcerated persons, veterans, and residents from mainly disadvantaged sections of Chicago to gather information about a variety of subjects that relate to research suites within Peaceology and Better News Research currently being conducted through the university-based Urban Peace Lab, and the communitybased Our Peace Palace. These topics include Poverty and Peace; Decidivism and Social Environment in Chicago; Devenge: Revenge Without Violence in Chicago; Under-funded Schools and Academic Achievements; Peace Without Guns; Youth and Gang Avoidance in Chicago; and Triumphs after Human Trafficking. In addition to gathering data for those research suites, this author leads teams of researchers and activists within the Urban Peace Lab and Our Peace Palace, and is developing within Sociology, a sub-discipline of Peaceology with prioritized focus on Urban Peaceology. 281

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Peaceology is the scientific study and application of peace and peacefulness within multiple contexts,with the fundamental belief that a major solution to violence and trouble is to make peace profitable; this is consistent with the Triple P Paradigm. These ethnographic and participant observation episodes have included repeated engagements with over 1,283 collaborators with varying levels of intensity in various communities across Chicago, and written, audio, or video documentations of over 3,226 individual and focus group interviews, informal discussions, or ethnographic observations in Chicago over those 20 years.

Findings Why do problems of high violence persist in Chicago, even in the face of this long tradition of scholarship and action? Based on existing data I begin answering this question by applying the principles of the Laws of Attraction and metaphysics, which state that energy follows attention; that is, we get more of the thing on which we place the most focus (Kleinman, 2013). Considering that law, I assert that problems of violence in Chicago are not being solved largely because the dominant question that has driven scientific inquiry for over a century has been mainly useful to explain causes rather than solutions to violence. That question is, “Why is there so much violence?” When pioneering and contemporary scholars at the University of Chicago (Kapustin et al., 2017; Park & Burgess, 1967; Sampson, 2012; Shaw & McKay, 1942; St. Jean, 2017) in their own ways asked why there was so much violence, especially in certain sections of the city, here are some key findings: 1

Chicago was organized like a concentric circle with most of the violence in the Zone in Transition (Zone 2) close to the central business district (The Loop). 2 Over time, regardless of the ethnic composition of the residents who occupied that zone, violence was disproportionately higher in that area. 3 High violence was caused in part by social disorganization: the incapacity of a group to realize common values and maintain effective social control. 4 The three chief causes of social disorganization were: a b c 5

The policy implications that came out of this research include: a b c

6

Low income High ethnic heterogeneity Low residential tenure

Building of housing projects that isolated low-income people (Wilson, 1987, 1997). Redlining to prevent Black and Brown people from living in White communities that were better maintained (Wilson, 1987, 1997). Blockbusting where real estate companies created panic among White people by selling homes to Black and Brown people so racist Whites can move and the agents can reap good profits from selling the homes of the panicked (Wilson, 1987, 1997).

Problems of high violence persist in Chicago today (Kapustin et al., 2017).

Problems of violence persisted in Chicago, reaching an all-time high in the 1990s. And in 2009 the Chicago Crime Lab housed at the University of Chicago came to an astonishing conclusion: “Over the past 50 years, our society has made far less progress in understanding how to protect our citizens from violence than from all manner of disease” (Ander et al., 2009, p. 1). 282

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This question of why is there so much violence and the research, policy, and action that resulted from it, helped to create the Triple C Paradigm. It is essentially a deficit-based model that is consistent with the laws of attraction claim that energy follows attention. The focus placed on explaining violence has led to the creation of policies and practices associated with more violence. The Triple C Paradigm cannot produce peace when primarily focusing on violence. Again, we get more of the things on which we place the most focus. The Triple C Paradigm is essentially a system of panic that is primarily focused on the existence of high violence and emotionally charged responses that seek to destroy perceived criminal elements or enemies. The focus of the Triple C Paradigm and its concentration on crime, has also taught us the following: a

b

In 2010, murder, rape, assault, and robbery cost the US $42 billion in direct or injury related costs (not including police, courts, corrections, lawsuits, and other costs) (Shapiro & Hassett, 2012). In 2009, a University of Chicago study revealed Chicago shootings cost $2.5 billion annually or about $2,500.00 per household (Ander et al., 2009).

Ultimately, placing the main focus on the costs of violence through the lens of the Triple C Paradigm has led to a profitable industry of violence. For instance, 1 Some states use complex algorithms to predict future prison beds with accuracies that are within 2 percent of prediction (North Carolina Sentencing and Policy Advisory Commission, 2017). 2 Private prisons and large corporations enjoy huge profits from cheap prison labor for their exorbitant market products (Alexander, 2012). 3 Police departments use high crime estimates to justify larger budgets for overtime, upgrades in equipment and technology, and other perks (Edleman, 2015). 4 Individual officers profit from the considerable amount of overtime they accrue for extra investigation and court appearances as a result of high violence (Edleman, 2015). 5 Overpriced basic products in prison commissaries and exorbitant rates of telephone calls from prisons are also among the profits made from violence (Alexander, 2012). 6 Wars have been shown to be considerably profitable for banks and select private contractors (Ben-Menashe, 2015). The Triple C Paradigm has also influenced oppressive, heavy-handed, alienating, and ineffective tactics of policing that have made Chicago a national leader in police brutality, corruption, and abuse of power. And although these abhorrent dynamics have been occurring for many decades, the recent high-profile cases of police killings (i.e., Laquan McDonald in 2014, Paul O’Neal in 2016, and Jose Nieves in 2017) have heightened awareness of these abuses. The Triple C Paradigm is failing to significantly reduce violence in Chicago, and beyond. What has instead resulted is an inertia of high violence, mainly on the south and west sides of Chicago, as part of an industry which makes violence profitable. The following quotes demonstrate an awareness of the impact of these dynamics on local neighborhoods in Chicago: 62-year-old David, in 2016 reported the following: I became a Disciple when I was 13 years old. A little shortie. Because of my age, I had to work my way up by doing stickups and little crimes to get money, and gave it to the older fellers while getting to keep a little for myself . . . I was young so if I was caught, 283

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the penalties would be less, and it would take me to the Audi Home, not to the big jail or prison. We had a system of making money from crime and threats of violence. I continued to take part in it as I got older. In 2017 25-year-old Mary noted the following: Everybody seems to be making money from these crime problems we face here in Chicago. The police on the streets do not want to stop it because it gives them work and some of them like seeing us in these poor conditions. The social service agencies make money from writing grants to help the community and the more problems the more money they get. So tell me, if they really want to solve the violence problem in Chicago. Listen to the popular music, watch the movies and you will see Chicago violence is big business. It is big money. Officer Brown, in 2016, reported the following: In the 22 years that I have been in the Chicago PD, I noticed a pattern where police officers are incentivized by the violence. The arrests that we make . . . the court appearances that follow, the tickets that we write, appear to me to be part of the business of crime and violence more than it is the business of impacting to form more peaceful streets in Chicago . . . Now don’t get me wrong. Most of us joined the CPD to make a positive impact on the streets. But believe me when I tell you that you can do a good side hustle in this line of work to increase your earnings based on what you do because of the violence problems. Several other interviews fit into the general messages quoted above: ideas that profitability from violence drives decisionmaking in different segments of Chicago.

What, then, is the solution? My argument so far has been that we have not been able to sufficiently address problems of violence in Chicago because, at least in part, pioneering research, which focused on the question of why there is so much violence, has produced information that influenced moral panics and unfair practices that worsened violence by making it profitable. This has created an industry of violence that remains in inertia. So, can this inertia of the industry of violence be disrupted? To answer this question, I draw from the teachings of physics. Newton’s first law of motion indicates that an entity in motion will remain in motion, unless confronted by an external force (Tait, 1899; Cohen & Smith 2002). The question is, what force outside of the industry of violence will be capable of disrupting its inertia? Consider Newton’s second law of motion, which indicates that moving an entity in inertia will require an imbalanced force (Force & Hutton, 2004). What will be this imbalanced force that can disrupt the inertia of the industry of violence? I argue that, since this inertia of the industry of violence began with knowledge acquired from asking a particular question, the external and imbalanced forces required to disrupt that inertia begin with asking a modern question. Based on these over 20 years of intensive research, I have come to realize that the modern question is, why isn’t there even more violence in Chicago? This modern question and associated answers form what I call, the Triple P Paradigm: Promoting the Profits of Peace. 284

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I present below some findings derived from asking the question “Why isn’t there even more violence in Chicago?” It is important to reveal that this question posed more difficulty for respondents to answer than my research team and I had imagined. Respondents often rephrase the question to answer what is usually asked of them: “Why is there so much violence in Chicago?” However, when they realize that they have heard correctly, and they are really being asked to answer why they believe violence problems are not even worse in Chicago, an automatic shift in their demeanor is often observed. Respondents frequently begin with their indication that they have never been asked or thought about that question before. After pondering the question for a few moments, they provide responses that include and are similar to the following: Researcher: “Why in your experience, do you believe there isn’t even more violence in Chicago?” Respondent: “Why is there so much violence in Chicago? Wow, where do I begin, it is the drugs, closing of schools. . ..” Researcher:  “No Ma’am, please listen carefully, why isn’t there even more violence in Chicago? This is what I am asking.” Respondent: “You mean why violence is not worse in Chicago?” Researcher, “Yes, in a way, this is what I am asking.” Respondent: “And you want to know from my own experience?” Researcher: “Yes Ma’am, from what you know directly, and not from simply what you imagine, or heard someone say.” Respondent: “Everyday there are people, for example in Roseland where I live. . . people who are doing the right thing . . . I mean raising their family the right way, even if it is only a mother or father in the house as a single parent, even if that person is on Section Eight . . . you understand, poor.” Researcher: “Yes Ma’am, I understand.” Respondent:  “Take me for example, a single mother with 5 children, my life has been tough . . . let me tell you, real tough. I was involved in a street organization, what the media calls a gang, and based on the things I decided to do with my crew, I ended up spending five years in prison.” Researcher: “Why did you spend time in prison? What did you do?” Respondent: “I was involved in the street economy as I like to call it. I earned a living from being involved in the street life . . . I sold drugs. I linked with the fellers to set people up for robbery, did some pimping here and there, you know, running the full game.” Researcher: “So, do you still live that lifestyle?” Respondent: “No.” Researcher: “Why?” Respondent: “I took part in a few workshops when I was locked up that really got me thinking . . . and since I got back home 12 years ago, I found my peace, and want to hold on to it.” Researcher: “Can you elaborate on what you mean?” Respondent: “I woke up to realize how the system made money off the backs of mostly black and brown people by locking them up mainly for feeding their family in creative ways when the system will not give them a chance. I had to think of another way to feed my family that does not involve giving up my freedom and being a slave in prison working for big corporation. That is what I mean.” 285

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I met Arthur in 2013 after he had returned from his last prison sentence hoping that this would end his over 25 years of being in and out of prison. The following quotes from one of my many interviews with him represent the voices of many formerly incarcerated men and women in Chicago who have converted their lifestyles in hopes that their post-incarceration example will set a new trend of what I term “decidivism” in Chicago. While recidivism is concerned with matters relevant to offenders’ committing crimes after periods of incarceration, decidivism is concerned with the opposite. It is concerned with matters relevant to how, why, and the extent to which formerly incarcerated persons do not reoffend for defined periods of time. Arthur yearns for a shift in focus to remain in a state of decidivism. Arthur: “If violence seems to be all you know to make a living that will be all you do. I say it over and over again, that the solution to the problem, is the problem itself. Many of us who belong to these street organizations and were the architects of much of what is going on in the streets of Chicago today, need to step up to the plate and create a new sort of economy for our people. We once made money from violence and crime; but look where it has gotten us. We need to make money out of ways that create more peaceful families and communities in Chicago and other places in the US and even the world, because of the strong influence that Chicago has on the rest of the US, and the world.” Researcher: “So what have you done to accomplish this idea of making a living out of peace as opposed to violence and crime?” Arthur: “I began a non-profit organization called Developers of Dreams. We are working with young people to develop businesses that are legit and to give back to their communities in economic and other ways. I have taken this idea of making peace profitable and used it to create construction and landscaping businesses, music and video recording, and so on.” These realities on the streets and neighborhoods in Chicago coincide with a larger process that supports the potential success of an upgrade in thinking and actions from a paradigm that made violence profitable, to one which makes peace profitable. To be sure, my mention of making peace profitable is not restricted to financial profit as some may assume. Instead, profit is conceptualized as the act of contributing in input and yielding a much larger return as a result of that input. In other words, receiving a return that is higher than the deposit. The focus of this chapter is not to fully discuss the various components of the profitability of peace, because I am accomplishing that task elsewhere. However, it is important to note that such profitability exists on eight dimensions, namely: cultural, economic, environmental, physiological, political, psychological, social, and spiritual. Having observed evidence of what I consider peace intelligence on the ground in Chicago, I am developing for future publication explanations of how little deposits into those dimensions of peace have yielded larger returns for Chicago residents. This change in mentality has influenced respondents’ actions away from participating in an economy of violence to being involved in efforts to make peace profitable, as was outlined by some of the quotes above. Those micro-level efforts in Chicago are calibrated to create a cultural and identity upgrade away from the profits of violence to the profits of peace as evidenced by the following information: 1

Savings on the high costs of violence ($42 billion or $137.00 per American) need to be seen as an opportunity to obtain economic and other benefits from reducing crime (Shapiro & Hassett, 2012). 286

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2 3

4

The estimated value for reducing violence by 25 percent in Chicago is $59 million per year (Shapiro & Hassett, 2012). In Chicago, a reduction of one homicide in a zip code in a given year, corresponds with a 1.5 percent increase in housing value in that same zip code the following year (Ander et al., 2009). According to the Center for American Progress, reducing homicides by 25 percent would increase Chicago’s home values by $5.5 billion (Shapiro & Hassett, 2012).

It appears that placing more focus on the profits of peace will bring more profits to peace. The following was learned while researching the question of, “Why isn’t there even more violence in Chicago?”: 1 Violence does not happen equally across communities. Among the 77 community areas in Chicago, five (6 percent) have consistently accounted for nearly 50 percent of violence (Austin, Englewood, New City, West Englewood, and West Garfield Park) (St. Jean, 2017). 2 A few neighborhood blocks account for most of the violence while most blocks remain peaceful. In a 2007 study, researchers found that 12 percent of neighborhood blocks accounted for 70–90 percent of crimes (drug dealing, robbery, and battery) (St. Jean, 2017). 3 A small number of people accounted for most of the violence while most people were peaceful: 1–3 percent of residents perpetrated 70–90 percent of those crimes (St. Jean, 2017). Other research findings support these observations (Sampson, 2012). 4 There is not even more violence in Chicago because, each day, people contribute to a more peaceful city in ways that are often unseen and otherwise unrecognized (St. Jean, 2017). Many Chicagoans are doing right by effectively raising their families, and otherwise being successful in living peaceful lives. However, little is known of these successes because of the dominance of the Triple C Paradigm. In fact, there is hardly a conspicuous platform to understand and expand on how Chicagoans succeed at living peacefully. This is part of why I am proposing a paradigm upgrade to the Triple P Paradigm. This will set a momentum to highlight the indigenous efforts of peace and peacefulness in Chicago and amplify them to become part of popular discourse, so that the many isolated people who are exercising acts of peace intelligence on a daily basis will no longer view themselves as isolated and insignificant. The Triple P Paradigm will hopefully provide a platform for this emerging cultural identity of peace intelligence to emerge as the new normal in Chicago, and beyond.

A practical application to disrupt the inertia of violence with the Triple P Paradigm To explain how the logic of the Triple P Paradigm can be used to disrupt the inertia of violence, let me share my work with Dirk Acklin (or Don Dirk as he is known on the streets). Dirk was a notorious leader of the Black Disciples, one of the street organizations often referred to as gangs. I met Dirk in 2013 during my field research after his recent release from prison. Dirk had served time on different occasions for murder, drug-related offenses, and other violent crimes. When we met, Dirk and his advisor, Arthur Stringer (“Bo”, who had already served many years in prison for various crimes), were seeking a new approach to disrupt the inertia of violence that had characterized their lives for decades. They were seeking a new course of action so that they could be positive examples to the many impressionable youths who seek to emulate their examples. 287

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Being introduced to Dirk and Bo’s world over the last four years has given me more insights into understanding the Triple C Paradigm, and how it needs to be upgraded to the Triple P Paradigm. Basically, these two men, and several others like them, were invested in a way of life that made violence profitable to them, and they were seeking a way out. I thereby introduced them to my idea of Promoting the Profits of Peace and its various associated concepts, and I encouraged them to transform their lives away from what once made violence profitable, to one which seeks to make peace profitable. In that transition from the culture and economy of violence to that of peace, one of the first steps was teaching them the lessons of peace intelligence derived from one of my Social and Emotional Leaning curricula titled Better Me, Better You. Over these four years, we have engaged in several community demonstrations, events, and working sessions designed to help them with that transition. In 2010, I began a non-profit organization called the Peaceful World Movement, and in 2015 purchased a commercial building on Michigan Avenue and 115th Street in Roseland, Chicago. There, we are developing the world’s first Peace Business Incubator to continue helping Dirk, Bo, and others like them to cultivate lifestyles which emulate the Triple P Paradigm. For that location, the model includes six sub-industries of Construction and Renovation, Tourism, Literacy and Education, Visual and Performing Arts, Food and Beverage Services, and Fashion Design and Manufacturing. The idea is that, beginning with these men, organizers will be able to create and develop market products and social arrangements that will build a momentum to help men, women, youths, and others who appear stuck in the inertia of the economy of violence to transform their lives to actions capable of making peace profitable on individual, family, community, and wider levels. This effort to make peace profitable includes expanding on some of the work that has begun with rappers whose music seems to glamorize and promote violence. The aim is to produce the same genre of urban music, but to replace the lyrics that seem to glorify violence with those that promote peace intelligence and celebrate peacefulness. The tourism module is designed to attract portions of the 50 million tourists who visit Chicago annually. They will be encouraged to see “peace in the hood” in locations such as Roseland and other sections of the south and west sides of Chicago. The module for the CHI-PEACE restaurant promotes the consumption and enjoyment of healthy foods that are conducive to improving the quality of life. The fashion design and manufacturing module is intended to produce clothing, souvenirs, and apparel that promote peace intelligence and otherwise build the peace industry. During a recent interview featured in a Ted-X series, Dirk Acklin explained his involvement in this new culture and identity formation in Chicago accordingly: My name is Don Dirk Acklin, and I have been a member of the Disciple Nation for a long time. I was doing wrong things and getting money other than the right way. So through . . . Dr. Peter St. Jean, with the tools he is giving me, it is steering me away from continually trying to get money from the violence that I was once indulged in, to a peaceful transition. What me and my Advisor has [sic] been doing is creating little clean up jobs, whatever we can move them . . . towards to keep them out of harm’s way, and . . . stop the violence and promote more peace and make it profitable. (St. Jean, 2017) Dirk and Bo’s video can be viewed in YouTube by searching for, “Dirk and Bo Making Peace Profitable.” Bo added the following during that same interview: 288

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My name is Advisor Bo, I am advisor to Don Dirk. I am also a Disciple. I often lived a life of violence due to what’s going on in the City of Chicago. Because of the concept of making peace profitable because Doc gave me that knowledge, we are able to put it in practice, and it is happening all over the US, people is [sic] gravitating towards this peace concept. This is the real demographic. This is the real reality of what tomorrow looks like. We don’t have to keep on buying into the belief that violence is profitable; this is the only thing we have. No, it isn’t. I am advisor Bo, and I subscribe to this economy of making peace profitable, and I invite each and every one of you all, to sign on too. Peace.

Conclusion After almost 125 years since the establishment of the first department of Sociology in the US that from the outset investigated disproportionate levels of violence and trouble in Chicago, these problems continue to persist, and their solutions are still puzzling. In this chapter, I have argued that the vexing problems of violence in Chicago have never been sufficiently resolved, and have instead, been fueled in part by the very research question intended to explore them. I referred to the paradigm associated with this research question as the Triple C Paradigm and expressed concerns about the costs of crime. Finally, I have elaborated on the Paradigm’s influence on policies and actions that evolved into an economy that has made violence profitable and has kept it in inertia. The chapter presented findings from 20 years of multi-methods research in Chicago that have resulted in the insights outlined above. The primary data presented in this chapter illustrate the emerging culture and identity formation that are manifesting in Chicago even in the face of high instances and concerns about violence in the city. This new paradigm, referred to as the Triple P Paradigm (Promoting the Profits of Peace), is a transition away from the Triple C Paradigm (Concerns about the Costs of Crime) that has made violence profitable. If efforts of the Triple P Paradigm as observed in Chicago are further recognized, developed, and harnessed, there are potentials for unprecedented implications to realize a more peaceful Chicago, and world by extension.

References Abbott, A. (1999). Department and Discipline: Chicago Sociology at One Hundred. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Alexander, M. (2012). The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness. New York: New Press. Ander, R., Cook, P., Ludwig, J., & Pollack, H. (2009). Gun Violence among School-Age Youth in Chicago. Chicago: Chicago Crime Lab report. Ben-Menashe, A. (2015). Profits of War: Inside the Secret U.S. Israeli Arms Networks. Oregon: Trine Day LLC. Byrne, J., & Dardick, H. (2017). Emanuel: Federal help welcome, but national guard out of the question. Chicago Tribune, Jan. 25. www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/politics/ct-trump-feds-chicago-tweetreact-met-20170125-story.html Cohen, B., & Smith, G. (2002). The Cambridge Companion to Newton. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Edleman, P. (2015). Not a Crime to be Poor: The Criminalization of Poverty in America. New York: New Press. Force, J., & Hutton, S. (2004). Newton and Newtonianism: News Studies. Dordrecht, Netherlands: Kluwer Academic Publishers. Janssen, K. (2017). Bring in the U.N. to solve Chicago “genocide,” Boykin says. Chicago Tribune, Dec. 14. www.chicagotribune.com/news/chicagoinc/ct-met-boykin-un-1215-chicago-inc-20171214story.html

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Peter K. B. St. Jean Kapustin, M., Ludwig, J., Punkay, M., Smith, K., Speigel, L., & Welgus, D. (2017). Gun Violence in Chicago, 2016. Chicago, IL: Chicago Crime Lab Report. Kleinman, P. (2013). Philosophy 101: From Plato and Socrates to Ethics and Metaphysics. Avon, MA: Adams Media. Kuhn, T. (1962). The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Lee, K. (2017). Does Trump have the authority to “send in the feds” to Chicago? LA Times, Feb. 17. www.latimes.com/politics/la-na-trump-feds-20170210-story.html North Carolina Sentencing and Policy Advisory Commission (2017). Prison Population Projections: Fiscal Year 2017 to Fiscal Year 2026. www.nccourts.org/Courts/CRS/Councils/spac/Documents/2017popproj.pdf Park, R., & Burgess, E. (1967 [1925]). The City: Suggestions for Investigation of Human Behavior in the Urban Environment. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Sampson, R. (2012). Great American City: Chicago and the Enduring Neighborhood Effect. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Shapiro, R., & Hassett, K. (2012). The economic benefits of reducing violent crime: A case study of 8 American cities. www.americanprogress.org Shaw, C., & McKay, H. (1942). Juvenile Delinquency and Urban Areas. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. St. Jean, P. (2017). Why isn’t there even more violence in Chicago? Introducing a paradigm upgrade from the Triple C to Triple P paradigms. Ted-X Lecture Series, North Park University, Chicago. May 3. Tait, P. (1899). Newton’s Law of Motion. London: A. and C. Black. Wilson, W. (1987). The Truly Disadvantaged: The Inner City, the Underclass, and Public Policy. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Wilson, W. (1997). When Work Disappears: The World of the New Urban Poor. New York: Vintage Books.

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24 PEACEBUILDING IN RESPONSE TO MIGRATION From securitization to peace in the context of the crisis for migrants in Europe Gillian Wylie Wars always provoke human displacement and forced migration. Driven by violence, people become internally displaced or cross borders in search of refuge. Although the right to seek refuge is internationally acknowledged, limitations on access to asylum and refuge, along with possibilities for migration more generally, are ever more obvious in the contemporary world. Many states are increasingly reluctant to offer safety and inclusion to displaced people, as exclusionary public politics holds popular sway. Yet, the fate of those displaced is intimately linked to peace for everyone wherever they find themselves, and their future is tied to the question of sustainable peacebuilding. This chapter explores these connections between war, displacement, refuge seeking, the politics of exclusionary securitization, and, ultimately, peacebuilding. It does so with reference to the crisis for migrants seeking refuge in Europe from the wars in Syria, Afghanistan, Iraq, and elsewhere. This crisis has been ongoing for some time but became especially pronounced in the years 2015–16. As the crisis has shown, European governments are becoming progressively less willing to receive asylum seekers in particular and migrants in general, as they both provoke and respond to xenophobic and Islamophobic politics. New physical barriers at European borders are the most obvious manifestation of this response. Less visible, but equally impactful, are the multiple exclusionary policies enacted through everyday bureaucratic border practices across Europe (Bigo, 2014, pp. 212–13). Yet future peace and security in Europe, and in the countries these people are fleeing, is closely tied to a response to this crisis that forges and enlivens a politics of inclusion.

Contextualizing the crisis for migrants seeking refuge in Europe (2015–) It is not unprecedented for people to move to Europe for asylum and refuge, or for other reasons such as work, family reunification, even adventure. However, in many respects, 2015 was a “unique” year in relation to the arrival of refugees and migrants in Europe (European Stability Initiative, 2017). The numbers of people travelling into Europe across the Aegean Sea, Western Balkans, and the Mediterranean between Libya and Italy increased exponentially in this period, with more than one million people crossing to Greece between January 2015 and March 2016 (UNHCR, 2016a). 291

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Widespread common discourse, as captured for example by the relevant Wikipedia entry, described this as the “European migrant crisis” or “European refugee crisis” (Wikipedia, 2017). Yet arguably such terminology places the experience of crisis on the wrong shoulders. Even in this unique period, Europe still received only around one million of the world’s refugee population of 16.1 million (not including the 5.2 million Palestinian refugees displaced for decades) and 40.8 million internally displaced persons (European Stability Initiative, 2017, pp. 3–4). So, a more accurate rendering of the situation is that 2015 revealed a visceral crisis for hundreds of thousands of people seeking to escape “persecution, conflict, generalized violence or human rights violations” (UNHCR, 2016b), rather than a crisis for relatively well-cushioned Europe. The majority of people coming to Europe in the period since 2015 were escaping Syria’s “internationalized civil war” (Jenne & Popov, 2016). These were mainly people who originally sought refuge from violence in neighboring countries such as Lebanon and Turkey but were forced into further movement by the restrictions they encountered in those places, for example in respect to rights to work and to education for children (European Stability Initiative, 2017). Also included in the figures are people from other conflict affected and war-torn places such as Afghanistan, Eritrea, and Iraq. The lack of safe passage options from these starting points forced many onto the sea and the consequences are an estimated 11,673 dead or missing people between 2015 and the time of this writing in November 2017 (UNHCR, 2017). Recognizing these people’s traumatic experiences explains my preference for the more cumbersome but accurate term, the crisis for migrants seeking refuge in Europe, rather than the myopic “European refugee crisis.” It is fair to note that European responses to this crisis facing migrants have not been uniform over time and place. Political consensus on common asylum and migration policies has eluded the European Union (EU) in general over the years. While a common framework on asylum (i.e., the Common European Asylum System, CEAS, of 2013) has been reached, adherence to supranational approaches to asylum remains incomplete (Nancheva, 2015, p. 443). In the consequent patchwork of first responses in early 2015, several states and civil societies reacted to the arrival of refugees with offers of help and solidarity. This was most obvious in the openness Germany and Sweden showed to those arriving. Angela Merkel’s willing and pragmatic phrase “wir schaffen dass” (we’ll manage it), spoken during a press conference in August 2015, epitomized this response. While some such responses persevered over time, particularly from civil society organizations, political responses have generally hardened. From early on there were European voices repelling refugees, most notably the right-wing Hungarian government and others coalesced in the Central European “Visegrad Group” (The Economist, 2016). Time and perceptions fomented by politicians and media of this as a crisis for Europe and individual nation-states, challenging to their security and identity, detracted from the initial openness. Over the 2015–16 period a number of EU-level measures were introduced that aimed to prevent new arrivals. These included a deal struck by the EU with Turkey in March 2016. Under this deal Turkey agreed to take back people arriving without permission in Europe, in return for the resettlement directly from Turkey into Europe of one refugee for each returnee. This basic deal was sweetened by the promise of speedy European visa liberalization for Turkish nationals and an increase in aid for refugees in Turkey (Collett, 2016). Some governments, particularly in the Balkans, emphasized hurrying refugees through so that they could not settle (Sardelic, 2017). Others sought to prevent any entry at all, as realized by the physically formidable Hungarian border fence, and reinforced elsewhere by border closures by states like North Macedonia. This sclerosis on movement left many people stranded in camps in Greece, abandoned in “a warehouse of souls” in the haunting words of Prime Minister Tsipras (Guardian, 2016a). In other signs of hardening attitudes towards those seeking refuge, 292

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the idea of EU states agreeing to resettlement quotas was strongly resisted by many members (Guardian, 2016b). Specific schemes to protect unaccompanied children were also rolled back, such as the suspension of the “Dubs initiative” intended to bring thousands of children to the UK (Independent, 2017). This switch from an initially empathetic response in many parts of Europe to a more prevalent attitude of closure and repulsion might seem explicable in light of the unique scale and challenges posed by the migratory movements of 2015 onwards. Yet, this would be to view current events out of context. First, there is the global context in which Europe, as a highly developed region of the globe, receives a small percentage of all the world’s displaced people and has the resources to cope. Second, there is the political context in which fundamental values such as respect for human rights, human dignity, democratic inclusion, and the rule of law are seen as the essential basis for realizing the EUs goals of peacebuilding and wellbeing (European Parliament, 2014). However, despite possessing these supposed resources and values, the diverse but ever more exclusionary responses to this crisis by the EU and its member states fit into a general trend regarding how developed states have responded to migration over recent decades. While the events of 2015 onwards might seem unique in scale (to European eyes), the politics of exclusion around migration and all its administrative sub-categories (asylum seekers, refugees, economic migrants, irregular migrants, trafficked and smuggled persons, etc.) have been around since at least the 1970s as a consequence of the “securitization of migration” (Bourbeau, 2011). As the next section shows, current events are a continuation and exacerbation of this longer trend.

The securitization of migration In the academic field of International Relations (IR) the security of nation-states has always been a primary concern. Influential theoretical accounts of IR by Realist thinkers deem the state to be the key actor, with its survival and security against external threats from other states of primordial importance in global politics (Waltz, 1979). Yet, discourses around security have evolved in recent decades as international changes like globalization and the end of the bipolar Cold War prompted the cultivation of new senses and sources of threat. In this context many issues have become subject to “securitization,” that is, “discursive practices that produce an existential threat to which security response is then required” (Gerard, 2014, p. 39). When something becomes cast as a security threat to the life of the nation or regional block, politically exclusionary or even militarized responses become thinkable. Issues subject to securitization over the last decades include poverty, drug production, organized crime, radical religious thought, and – the focus here – global migration (Collins, 2013). In all these cases, the previous policy rubrics that framed these issues – such as economic and human development, civil law, civil liberties, economic management, etc. – have been displaced by approaches that treat them as matters of national and international security. Although migration has always provoked societal challenges, such as debates over policies of multiculturalism or assimilation (see Kymlicka, 1995), in the immediate post-World War II world, it was not an issue treated as primarily one of state security in the European context. The truly enormous refugee crisis of the late 1940s – greater than anything experienced since and visited on a Europe far less able to cope – was responded to in largely humanitarian ways (Bundy, 2016). Moreover, the World War experience also led to the elaboration of an international regime to enable access to asylum and refuge which European states approved and acceded to, beginning with the 1951 Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees (International Justice Resource Center, 2017). Later, the search for post-war economic 293

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recovery enticed migration, with European states seeking workers, as exemplified by the West German gastarbeiter policy. While it would be wrong to paint this as an unproblematic period of migration, with migrants often experiencing discrimination or racism (Squires, 2009), the overall tenor of migration politics did not align human movement with national security concerns. Rather, prior to the 1970s migration was treated as an issue of either economics, civil law, or humanitarian interest. However, since the 1970s, there is evidence of growing political and social unease about migration in Europe. The economic downturn in the 1970s made European states wary of encouraging economic migration and cognizant that the notion that guest workers would only stay temporarily was misplaced. In this period, we see the stirrings of exclusionary policy tactics that become ever more pronounced, such as closures to economic in-migration and a growing tendency to reject asylum claims (Freedman, 2007, p. 6). Moreover, the steady growth of far-right-wing political parties across Europe since the 1970s, beginning as minorities and burgeoning into mainstream populism in recent years, was instrumental in framing migration, minorities, and refuge seekers as threatening to cultural identity, economic stability, and welfare safety nets of “native peoples” (Wodak et al., 2013). These early signs are important signifiers of what was to come. With the end of the Cold War came challenges to maintaining rigid international political and economic borders posed by neoliberal globalization. Alongside this, growing concerns about transnational organized crime, then 9/11 and the subsequent “war on terror,” set the scene for migration to become securitized. Jeff Huysmans’ article, “The European Union and the securitisation of migration” (2000) was among the first to analyse this trend in an EU-specific context. Huysmans argued that the completion of the internal liberal European market, including free movement for citizens across the EU within the Schengen Zone, required fortifying an external border. Solidifying internal cohesion came by “reifying dangers from outside” and presenting migration as “a danger to public order, cultural identity and labor market stability” (Huysmans, 2000, p. 756). The Schengen Accord thus explicitly connects immigration to “terrorism, transnational crime and border control” (Huysmans, 2000, p. 756). Thus, what began as the socioeconomic project of the single European market and internal mobility spilled over into a security one. If anything, these dynamics have only intensified since 2000. One particularly pronounced example of this tendency to connect migration with security threat can be seen in relation to global and European responses to the issue of human trafficking over the last decade. While transnational civic activism around the issue of human trafficking frames the problem as one of human rights, and women’s rights in particular, governments’ primary framing of the issue uses the lens of combating organized crime (Kubal, 2014), so justifying securitized responses. The UN’s anti-trafficking Palermo Protocol of 2000 is a prime example of this tendency as it sits within the wider UN Convention of Transnational Organized Crime and was negotiated at the UN’s Crime Control Commission (Wylie, 2016). In the context of the current crisis for migrants seeking refuge in Europe, there are numerous examples in the statements of pan-European organizations and individual governments that connect policing and/or military deployments against migration with the use of anti-human trafficking language as justification. Going back to spring 2015, the European Council committed itself to “strengthen the EU’s presence at sea, to fight the traffickers, to prevent illegal migration flows and to reinforce internal solidarity and responsibility” (European Parliament, 2015). The Council also considered whether it could undertake intelligence gathering and military manoeuvres to “destroy suspect boats” of traffickers and smugglers near the Libyan coast (European Parliament, 2015). By early 2016, EU states allied in NATO agreed to send three vessels to Turkish Mediterranean waters with the dual intent of returning migrants to Turkey 294

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and monitoring vessels “to feed information to the national authorities in Greece and Turkey, to help them crack down on human trafficking and criminal networks fuelling the migration crisis” (Deutsche Presse-Agentur, 2016). Later in summer 2016, the EU sought UN permission to boost its Libyan naval mission with the dual intent of stopping arms trafficking to IS/Daesh and human trafficking. EU politicians argued that naval vessels should be able to search suspect ships for both these cargo, because, in the words of the then French foreign minister, “We must act, both against those who exploit the migrants, those traffickers who exploit this misery, and against the arms trafficking that benefits Daesh” (Reuters Africa, 2016). The mention of human traffickers, ISIS, and terrorism in one breath offers seemingly compelling justification for ever-increasing militarized responses to the current crisis facing migrants. Yet, responses to human trafficking are just one example epitomizing this long-range trend towards securitization. Indeed, the many policies that have categorized and governed migration in recent decades can be collected under three headings – “criminalization,” “temporariness,” and “externalization” (see Dahlmann, 2016, p. 9). The first of these trends, criminalization, is evidenced through the trafficking discussion above but is compounded by the activities of organizations such as the EU’s FRONTEX, which polices Europe’s borders in ever-stricter, technologically savvy ways, while migrant communities find themselves subject to ever-more pronounced policing and surveillance inside European states (Chebel d’Appollonia, 2015, p. 141). Legitimating these policing and security functions are public discourses connecting migrants to criminality through concerns about the black economy, illegal entry, threats to public order, or terrorism. Temporariness manifests in policies designed to keep migrants on the move and unsettled. In the current crisis this has been epitomized by the Balkan states’ approach of waving asylum seekers through to other places, while actively defining themselves as “transit states” to underline their position as spaces to be crossed but not stopped in (Sardelic, 2017). There are longer term examples of this phenomenon too. The preference developed states have for policies of “circular migration,” with migrant workers only allowed in for seasonal employment, is one such incidence (Triandafyllidou, 2013). Temporariness is also captured in the range of protections developed states now offer. As decisions in favor of full refugee status have become less common (Freedman, 2007), nation-states have developed a series of sub-categories of international protection offering less assured protection. “Humanitarian Leave to Remain”, and other subsidiary protections are cases in point. The fundamental premise of externalization is that migration decisions and policies should be enacted away from EU states. In relation to asylum, European measures in this vein include the setting up of processing zones for migrants in North Africa, the making of decisions on asylum claims in refugee camps in regions of conflict, “return” deals of the kind made with Turkey and between Italy and Libya, naming states as safe havens or safe third countries, and “warehousing” would-be migrants in regions of origin. As evidenced here there are a myriad of policies by which the EU as an entity and its member states, in their individual ways, seek to manage migration. The three major trends identified here – criminalization, temporariness, and externalization – are conjoined in contributing to an exclusionary politics of migration. All are justified in the name of securing societies from threats associated with migration, ranging from feared violence to economic robbery to cultural dilution. While these are the dominant trends it would be wrong to ignore that there are other strands within migration policies. EU states still recognize the right to seek asylum and protections are offered to many, most governments have migrant integration strategies, all practice economic policies, which allow for economic migration to a degree (though always with a preference for “skilled” migrants). Admittedly, the whole issue is riven by inherent 295

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tensions between collective control and individual rights, security and freedoms, which governments undoubtedly struggle to approach in cohesive, politically expedient and (to some extent) ethically sound ways. Migration in all its manifestations is undoubtedly a complicated issue as governments deal with competing concerns and values. Also, it is important to remember that policy responses and implementation can vary through place and time, depending on context and the everyday practices of a range of diverse border agents (Bigo, 2014, p. 214). That said, as shown above, the tenor of recent decades has definitely moved to the securitization of migration. For migrants caught in the crisis of 2015 onwards, while many have found European refuge, as time has progressed the European policy response has hardened and smacks more and more of criminalization, temporariness, and externalization. The irony is that all these policies “generate long lists of fears” but “without increasing societal security” (Chebel d’Appollonia, 2015, p. 141).

The consequences of securitization The irony that new securitization policies intensify insecurity is not lost on many authors. Didier Bigo (2014) uses the analogy of the mobius strip (the mathematic concept of a loop, which looks two sided but is in fact one sided) to suggest the inherent entanglement of security and insecurity. As he writes in relation to migration, “border controls and their technologies do not solve the insecuritization of borders” (rather) “they propagate fears of mobility in their everyday routines” (Bigo, 2014, p. 221). While the impact of securitization discourses is to ramp up concerns in the receiving community, it is perhaps more important to ask about its effect on those migrating and seeking refuge. From the perspective of those who migrate the impact of securitization policies is to cast them as threatening, and so in her intriguing study of migrants in Europe and the US, Ariane Chebel d’Appollonia (2015) asked people in such communities “how does it feel to be a threat?” The responses from her interviewees revealed that being the object of securitization leaves people feeling traumatized, destabilized, and alienated (Chebel d’Appollonia, 2015, p. 143). Importantly though, she found that it did not leave people inactive or disempowered. Being the object of securitization also led to mobilization and protest (though to different degrees in varied communities), capturing a desire on the part of those interviewed to be agents of political life, not just its objects. This dual response of alienation/isolation and mobilization by migrants to being securitized is captured by Josefina Echavarria (2014) in her reflections on a series of events in Vienna in 2014. She describes a political context in which the Austrian government was pursuing a classic case of migration securitization. Government policies treated asylum seekers “primarily . . . as potential threats to state and society” and enacted approaches which kept them physically separated and unable to form social networks (Echavarria, 2014, p. 181). Yet, such treatment eventually provoked public protests by asylum seekers and they took to the streets and then decamped to a church, the Votivkirche in Vienna, to claim it as a place of sanctuary. A stand-off then evolved between protestors, church authorities, and the state. Echavarria (2014) suggests this case reveals all the failings of a securitized approach to migration for everyone involved, with securitization provoking fear, conflict, and even the specter of violence. Overall such policies make “the inclusion of immigrants and asylum seekers in European societies more difficult” (Huysmans, 2006; also see Chebel d’Appollonia, 2015, p. xii). By contrast, Echavarria (2014) makes it clear that securitization policies are a far cry from potential alternative responses to migration that seek to build peace between host societies and those who arrive. 296

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Peacebuilding in response to migration Ideas about peacebuilding have evolved over the years (as many of the chapters in this book make clear). Critical thinking about earlier uses of the term, which emphasized international intervention to support liberal political and economic models of governance based on Western norms and institutional patterns (Cravo, 2017), has led to newer, alternative imaginings of peacebuilding. These emphasize the importance of transforming relationships, using integrated approaches that bring elites, civil society organizations, and grassroots activists into the work of peace (as visualized in Lederach’s (1997) peacebuilding pyramid) and designing interventions which are context-specific, locally inspired, and durable (Funk & Said, 2011). Echavarria (2014), for example, offers suggestions about how responses to the crisis which faced the migrants in the Votivkirche (as so many others), could be reimagined in ways which take peacebuilding as inspiration rather than compounding paradoxical (in)security. Using Lederach’s (1995, 1997) point that we should imagine ourselves not as “us” and “them” but as people linked in a web of relationships, she calls for approaches to migration which create inclusive communities. Such communities should be founded on shared issues of concern that draw people together (housing, education, rights, etc.), rather than the exclusivity of identity politics. These could be founded through “gestures of civility” and empathetic acts on all sides. Such approaches could transform conflicts, such as that at the Votivkirche, and initiate moves towards peaceful, inclusive societies (Echavarria, 2014, p. 183). In relation to dealing with the crisis facing today’s migrants, whether in Europe or elsewhere, this peacebuilding approach could be made manifest in ways which build relationships and networks, recognize refugee agency, and advocate for just responses in countries of arrival, while also engaging those who have left their countries under duress as part of the long-term future for sustainable peace back “home.” To look at the latter point first, there is a growing recognition that asylum seekers and refugees need to be part of efforts to promote peace in the places they fled. The UNHCR’s Agenda for Protection (2003, p. 76) proposes that refugees should be included in work for peace and reconciliation. Should they wish to return when it becomes possible to do so, refugees could bring their understanding of the causes of the conflict to the development of viable peace accords and play a vital role in their implementation (Sharpe & Cordova, 2009). Crucially, Sharpe and Cordova argue that time in exile needs to be used to foster the “knowledge, attitudes and skills critical to future peacebuilding” and they cite the UNHCR’s Peace Education Program as a good example of how refugees can be working towards building peace at some future date, through developing mediation and other skills (Sharpe & Cordova, 2009, p. 47). Unfortunately, current approaches to asylum seekers and refugees which embed social isolation and stymie access to public goods, like higher education (Global Platform for Syrian Students, 2015), run contrary to realizing this ideal. Peacebuilding in host societies also requires challenging securitization discourses and social isolation through the building of local networks and relationships. Although there is much to criticize about the tenor of European policies and responses to the crisis for migrants of 2015 onwards, it is possible to identify intriguing examples from each level of the peacebuilding pyramid that suggest more complexity of response than solely securitization. As mentioned above, access to education is crucial to those seeking asylum or with refugee status, both for their own sanity and for future peace efforts. While some European nation-states make access to third-level education highly problematic (Ireland is a case in point here where asylum seekers are charged international student fees), others are very active in promoting access. The Portuguese government, for example, frames higher education as an essential element of 297

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humanitarian response and has helped fund university access for many Syrian students each year since 2013 (Global Forum for Syrian Students, 2015). Civil society and grassroots initiatives in support of migrants are plentiful across Europe, some initiated by people seeking refuge, some by citizens of receiving states, others collaboratively between these groups. For example, as people arrived in Europe in 2015, individual citizens responded with generosity, sometimes to their own detriment. Elizabeth Zornig, former Children’s Ombudsman in Denmark, offered a lift to a walking Syrian family, only to be charged with human trafficking. While this bizarre case draws attention again to the securitization narrative – as Zornig herself put it this was tantamount to the “criminalization of decency” (Guardian, 2016c) – it is also a good illustration of the gesture of civility and acts of empathy that Echavarria (2014) calls for. In terms of broader civic initiatives, an example from my own context is the work of the City of Sanctuary movement. The basic premise of this movement, which is well established in the UK and now growing in Ireland, is that institutions and communities commit to being places of welcome to all migrant newcomers (City of Sanctuary, 2017). In Ireland, due to the lack of a strong bureaucratic infrastructure as of yet, the movement works through grassroots volunteers and networking. One recent initiative was a “Sanctuary in Politics” course, an adult learning course aimed at migrants, asylum seekers, and refugees in Ireland who were interested to learn about the Irish political system and media and particularly how to engage in effective advocacy and campaigning. Thirty people of 20 plus nationalities met over five weekends, with a collaborative atmosphere and participative learning approach giving maximum agency to the learners. Consequently, the course ended with a manifesto being drawn up by the students. The upshot of this was a visit to the Irish parliament (the Dáil) and the chance for those involved in the programme to speak about their concerns to the members of the Oireachtas (houses of parliament) (Places of Sanctuary Ireland, 2017). At that meeting in the Irish parliament, one participant voiced clearly “what it feels like to be a threat.” Christiana Obaro spoke of how since coming to Ireland she has acquired many names, most of which she never wanted – asylum seeker, refugee, migrant – which are quickly followed by illegal, criminal, alien. She talked of how the asylum system is keeping her, her husband, and the people around them in poverty, isolation, and often depression. The lack of a right to seek work in Ireland (at the time of writing) means asylum seekers lose their self-worth, skills, and autonomy (Pollack, 2017). All of us there felt the power of her delivery and message. It is important to remember that people’s agency in this situation is circumscribed by their lack of citizenship rights and also that the diversity, even divisions, within migrant and host populations mean that we cannot romanticize the potential in such solidaristic projects (Kallius et al., 2016). However, this project did important work with those seeking asylum, those supporting them, and even Irish politicians, by allowing voice and agency to come through. Such projects in civil society, building solidaristic networks, challenging exclusionary policies and recognizing human agency, are key to peacebuilding in the context of the crisis for migrants in Europe today.

Conclusion In recent decades the securitization of migration has intensified. As this chapter has detailed, public and political discourses that associate human migration with national security threats are hegemonic and are used to legitimize a series of exclusionary policies towards all kinds of migrants. The numbers of migrants in crisis, fleeing war, conflict, and poverty for Europe today have laid the machinations of these policies bare. But while the scale of the current crisis is different, the exclusionary dynamics are part of a longer story of migration securitization. Such policies, however, only compound the insecurity of migrants and hosts alike. By contrast, a 298

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politics for peace in response to migration requires building relationships, acting in empathy, and taking political decisions in favor of rights, safety, and inclusion. That is the basis for tying together migration and peace for these “unique” times – and all others.

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Gillian Wylie Jenne, E., & Popov, M. (2016). Managing internationalized civil wars. Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Politics. http://politics.oxfordre.com/view/10.1093/acrefore/9780190228637.001.0001/acrefore9780190228637-e-573. Kallius, P. M. (2016). Immobilizing mobility: Border ethnography, illiberal democracy, and the politics of the “refugee crisis” in Hungary. American Ethnographer, 43(1), 25–37. Kubal, A. (2014). Struggles against subjection: Implications of criminalization of migration for migrants’ everyday lives in Europe. Crime, Law and Social Change, 62(2), 91–111. Kymlicka, W. (1995). Multicultural Citizenship: A Liberal Theory of Minority Rights. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Lederach, J. P. (1995). Preparing for Peace: Conflict Transformation across Societies. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press. Lederach, J. P. (1997). Building Peace: Sustainable Reconciliation in Divided Societies. Washington, DC: USIP Press. Nancheva, N. (2015). The common European asylum system and the failure to protect: Bulgaria’s Syrian refugee crisis. South European and Black Sea Studies, 15(4), 439–55. Places of Sanctuary Ireland (2017). Sanctuary in the Oireachtas – Ireland makes history. https://ireland. cityofsanctuary.org/2017/05/19/sanctuary-in-the-oireachtas-ireland-makes-history Pollack, S. (2017). “This is my America”: Migrants urge TDs, Senators for support. www.irishtimes.com/ news/social-affairs/this-is-my-america-migrants-urge-tds-senators-for-support-1.3088097 Reuters Africa (2016). EU gives its Mediterranean mission right to search ships for Libya-bound arms. http://af.reuters.com/article/commoditiesNews/idAFL8N19C11T Sardelic, J. (2017). The refugee crisis and the new politics of diversity: Hyper-temporariness of transient migrants and transit countries. Paper presented at Migration and Refugees: Ethics, Law and Institutional Responses, conference, May 19. University College Dublin, Ireland. Sharpe, T., & Cordova, S. (2009). Peacebuilding in displacement. Forced Migration Review, 33, 46–7. https://reliefweb.int/report/world/forced-migration-review-no-33-protracted-displacement Squires, V. (2009). The Exclusionary Politics of Asylum. Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan. The Economist (2016). Big, bad, Visegrad: The migration crisis has given an unsettling new direction to an old alliance. www.economist.com/news/europe/21689629-migration-crisis-has-given-unsettlingnew-direction-old-alliance-big-bad-visegrad Triandafyllidou, A. (2013). Circular Migration between Europe and its Neighborhood. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. UNHCR (2003). Agenda for Protection. www.unhcr.org/protect/PROTECTION/3e637b194.pdf UNHCR (2016a). More than one million refugees travel to Greece since 2015. http://data2.unhcr.org/ en/news/12885 UNHCR (2016b). Global Trends: Forced Displacement in 2015. Field Information and Coordination Support Section. Geneva, Switzerland: UNHCR. www.unhcr.org/576408cd7.pdf UNHCR (2017). Operations portal: Refugee situations. http://data2.unhcr.org/en/situations/medi terranean?id=83 Waltz, K. (1979). Theory of International Politics. Long Grove, IL: Waveland Press. Wikipedia (2017). European migrant crisis. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/European_migrant_crisis Wodak, H., Khosravinik, M., & Mal, B. (2013). Right Wing Populism in Europe: Politics and Discourse. London: Bloomsbury Academic. Wylie, G. (2016). The International Politics of Human Trafficking. London, UK: Palgrave Macmillan.

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25 COMMISSIONING EDUCATORS The United Nations’ call to advance global peace through teaching intercultural communication Imani Michelle Scott September 11, 2001, was a day that changed the history of the world as many had come to know it. On that day, millions across the globe experienced shock and dismay as Al-Qaeda attacked the homeland of the United States (US) in a terrorist strike that wreaked devastation, destruction, and death upon thousands. Determined to address the chaotic circumstances linked to September 11, the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) crafted its groundbreaking Universal Declaration (UD) on Cultural Diversity during its meeting in Paris, two months after the attacks. In this declaration, UNESCO petitioned its nearly 200-member states to join forces in “promoting through education an awareness of the positive value of cultural diversity and improving to this end both curriculum design and teacher education” (2001, p. 15). Essentially, UNESCO’s declaration affirmed its leaders’ collective beliefs in the power that a global initiative committed to cultural diversity-focused pedagogy through intercultural dialogue – a “subset of intercultural communication” (Monaghan, 2014) would have on the advance of worldwide peacebuilding. At first glance, it may seem peculiar that an atrocity which resulted in such massive losses of life, security, and property as that of 9/11 would lead to an international declaration related to education and cultural diversity. To be sure, some might characterize UNESCO’s proposal to employ pedagogy for the attainment of global peace to be a type of micro-level soft politics fashioned by elites (Galtung, 1996) during a time when more heavy-handed, macro tactics were called for. After all, history has taught us that more characteristic and predictable state responses to targeted attacks on civilians by organized forces involve less diplomatic and more aggressive reactions than a declaration touting cultural diversity-based education. And indeed, with the advent of the Iraq War, military engagement in Afghanistan, the fortification of active and passive defense mechanisms, and the vigorous manhunt for the masterminds of the attacks, numerous US-sanctioned measures manifested as forceful macroreactions to the events of September 11. However, given the traditional peacekeeping goals of the United Nations (UN) these types of aggressive, post-violence responses tend to be worrisome. Undoubtedly, these responses are exertions of further violence; add to that, they are contrary to the type of peacebuilding which represents a proactive means of relationship building, healing, and conflict transformation (Lederach, 2005) encouraged by many 21stcentury peace proponents.

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Given the above, it can be presumed that, at minimum, three concerns were influential in UNESCO’s crafting and issuance of its unprecedented UD that November: (1) The anticipation of highly volatile state responses to the 9/11 attacks, (2) the short- and long-term international consequences of those responses, and (3) the determination to appropriate these attacks in furtherance of the UN’s pursuit of international peace consistent with the body’s formative principles and tenets. As a result, in addition to promoting global education championing the appreciation for cultural diversity, the UNESCO UD (2001) also made a series of related appeals. First, it sanctioned “intercultural dialogue [as] the best guarantee of peace” (p. 11). This supported its leaders’ confidence in the propensity for communication between persons and groups of different cultural backgrounds to advance the pursuit of worldwide peace. Second, it petitioned for “a more open, creative and democratic world” (2001, p. 11), and in so doing advanced the objectives of the UN’s 1948 UD on Human Rights. Third, it called for the prevention of “segregation and fundamentalism . . . in the name of cultural differences” (2001, p. 11). This third appeal was especially critical given the Christian–Muslim subtexts at the core of the September 11 aggression. And fourth, it offered a detailed Action Plan of tactical and persistent methods through which pedagogy might be employed proactively to support peacebuilding. From a practical perspective, the Action Plan was especially effective as it offered specific guidelines to support policy and program development to operationalize the goals of this innovative UD. Perceptively, UNESCO’s 2001 UD demonstrated the extent of its leaders’ foresight and wisdom in recognizing the influences that ignorance, ethnocentrism, and a lack of respect for differences in cultural identities and worldviews would have on the future stability of our world if these influences went unaddressed. Their foresight was confirmed some 14 years later when Remland et al. (2015) wrote: “in a shrinking world, where the realities of war, migration, international markets, natural calamities, and more demand global attention and cooperation . . . working and living with people of other cultures is no longer a choice with little consequence; it is a necessity for survival in the 21st century” (preface). To be sure, UNESCO’s regard for the worldwide impact of cultural diversity was especially apparent in Article 2 of the UD (2001) which states: “cultural diversity is as necessary for humankind as biodiversity is for nature” (p. 5), and in Article 4 which asserts: “The defense of cultural diversity is an ethical imperative, inseparable [from] respect for human dignity” (p. 5). Ultimately, the UD conveyed the organization’s concern that if urgent and persistent global attention were not given to procuring mutual respect for cultural differences, the future security of all humankind would be at stake. This concern was expounded upon in comments made by UNESCO’s then Director-General, Koïchiro Matsuura, who wrote in his introduction to the UD (2001, p. 11): Such a wide-ranging instrument is a first for the international community. It raises cultural diversity to the level of “the common heritage of humanity” . . . and makes its defence [sic] an ethical imperative indissociable [sic] from respect for the dignity of the individual. The Declaration aims both to preserve cultural diversity as a living, and thus renewable treasure . . . [and] as a process guaranteeing the survival of humanity . . . Using UNESCO’s UD on Cultural Diversity as its backdrop, this chapter: (1) discusses the four concepts at the core to the UD: culture, intercultural, communication, and peacebuilding, and (2) presents a series of lessons I have learned related to the opportunities and challenges linked to these concepts and inherent in advancing the call for a pedagogy-fueled, global commitment to peacebuilding. 302

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Key concepts: Implications and relationships Given the inter-relatedness and complexity of the four concepts (culture, intercultural, communication/dialogue, and peacebuilding) at the center of UNESCO’s UD, a discussion of these terms is offered as a foundation for analyzing their import and considering the prospects each presents to pedagogy. This discussion should also support practical, global efforts to institutionalize and operationalize pedagogy to support learning about cultural diversity and committing to peacebuilding.

Culture The concept of culture emerged as an outcome of studies related to race and evolution conducted by 19th-century anthropologists (University of Manitoba, n.d.). More narrowly, Cohen (1997) attributes early usage of the term to anthropological attempts to explain “the outward expression of a unifying and consistent vision brought by a particular community to its confrontation with core issues” (p. 10). Today, definitions and theories of culture have expanded far beyond the discipline of anthropology to become the nucleus for pervasive multidisciplinary efforts to understand the progression of human thought, behavior, and interactions. Most assuredly, in contemporary society the term “culture” is now widely accepted to form the basis of everything humans do, think, and feel. Yet, due to its complexity in breadth and depth, efforts to singularly define and compartmentalize the concept for worldwide agreement are nearly impossible. In fact, Cohen (1997) suggests that any effort to define culture with “a neat, onesentence definition . . . can only mislead” (p. 10) since such reductionism slights the import of the concept; even so, a cogent grasping of the term’s meaning is preferable. Such cogency supports broadening global awareness of the significance of culture to the human experience, and thereby, an avoidance of the propensity for unacknowledged, unappreciated, and/or undervalued cultural differences to provoke conflict. Building on a collection of global interpretations, UNESCO (2001) defines culture as “the set of distinctive spiritual, material, intellectual and emotional features of a society or a social group encompass[ing] art and literature, lifestyles, ways of living together, value systems, traditions and beliefs” (p. 12). Conveyed through communication, the forcefulness of culture as a socializing influence is unrelenting; it impacts the thoughts, values, beliefs, attitudes, worldviews and behaviors of individuals, families, groups, and, subsequently, societies. Through its individual affiliates, each society creates, performs, and maintains cultural systems to transmit distinct “menti-facts” and “socio-facts” (Huxley, 1942) into the psyches of other individual affiliates. For the most part, then, each person is socially constructed and thereby, culturally groomed to have a subjective worldview in alignment with others whom he or she has shared historical and communal experiences. “This is not to say that everyone within a particular community must possess an identical outlook on life; however, intimate acquaintance with a culture presupposes reasonable familiarity and the ability to work with a wide range of possible subjective variations on dominant cultural theme[s]” (Cohen, 1997, p. 27). At the end of the day, it is the awareness of and respect for differences between persons and societies representing diverse dominant cultural themes and perspectives that the UNESCO UD attempts to target through pedagogy. Again, the complexity of the concept of culture belies simplistic efforts to compartmentalize its meaning. However, what can be gleaned from the above discussion is an understanding of culture to be those transmitted and shared meanings that privilege selected menti-facts, sociofacts, artifacts, interests, and values over others. Along these same lines, we might consider the phrase: “a culture” to serve as a referent to those members of a society who are socially bonded 303

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through their transmission and sharing of what has been mutually accepted as privileged and significant. To summarize, Cohen (1997) proposes three factors in consideration of what we mean by the term culture: “1) It is [an organic] quality not of individuals, but of the society of which individuals are a part; 2) It is acquired – through acculturation or socialization – by individuals from their respective societies, and 3) Each culture is a unique complex of attributes subsuming every area of social life” (p. 10). These are the three qualities of culture at the core of our consideration on implementing the UNESCO UD on Cultural Diversity.

Intercultural Since the earliest beginnings of humankind, encounters between persons with diverse backgrounds, interests, needs, and perspectives have offered intercultural experiences. In fact, Klopf and McCroskey (2007) suggest that intercultural encounters have occurred “since the late Pleistocene or early Holocene periods of human history, the times when people first roamed the earth” (p. 6). However, “the term intercultural communication was first used in Edward T. Hall’s 1959 book, The silent language” (Inoue, 2007, p. 2). Since then, Hall’s work has been credited with the subsequent phenomenal interest and growth of intercultural studies, especially as they relate to the reduction of interpersonal conflict through communication. In the 21st-century world where we have rapidly increasing occurrences of persons interfacing with persons from cultures different than their own, harmonious and peaceful encounters are especially vital and worthy of attention. Instigated by extremes in technological advances, environmental changes, and migration patterns, planned and unplanned interactions between individuals and groups from diverse backgrounds have amplified in their frequency and intensity of consequence and interdependence. In this state of increasingly consequential and interdependent intercultural encounters, we have choices: we can interact to compete for dominance and control; we can resist substantive interaction by socially isolating ourselves, or we can enjoin to work towards a global sense of community where we support, respect, and uplift each other. Of course, amongst those who lobby for peace, the latter of these choices is the ideal option for the benefit of sustaining humankind. The intersubjectivity of cultural grooming establishes the foundation of each person’s unique worldview, and solidifies group-based cultural norms, whereby persons within a group have a “shared understanding of some aspect of reality, especially [about] social categories such as gender, race, mental illness and class” (Connors, 2016, p. 29). When persons with diverse cultural constructs interact, the result can be complex encounters of intensely distinct human realities competing for mutual understanding, acceptance, and respect. Of course, given the uniqueness of individual identities, realities, and experiences there will always exist some type of “othering” when persons meet – even between those who share dominant cultural constructs. However, “the potential for conflict and misunderstanding grows as we come into contact with nations and peoples who do not share our personal worldview” (Remland et al., 2015, p. 15). For this reason, Cohen (1997) characterizes intercultural encounters as interactions between “cultural strangers”; and, he proposes that “where there is no organic compatibility between [their] frames of reference” (p. 27) communication is especially difficult. As noted above, humankind is rapidly growing more environmentally, economically, politically, and socially interdependent with each passing day, and this “increased global interdependence creates the possibility of being drawn into the political, economic and humanitarian issues of other nations” (Remland et al, 2015, p. 15). Because a consequence of interdependence is the increased intermingling of differences, there is a necessity to manage those differences in such a way as to promote and support communal accord and decrease societal discord. Productively 304

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managing the intermingling of cultural differences is also crucial for the avoidance of so-called cultural wars, wherein clashes between those with conflicting cultural values lead to increased hostilities and possibly lethal confrontations (Connors, 2016). Adding to the complexity of intercultural interactions is the reality of intracultural phenomena. To be sure, indicators of culture exist, and are exhibited and transmitted as both intracultural and intercultural phenomena. Where encounters occur intraculturally, they occur between persons and groups who share a majority of cultural constructs and thereby have a dominant cultural identity based on their socially bonded meaning systems. However, while some diversity exists intraculturally, the most significant differences exist interculturally; this latter case, then, is where the greatest propensity for misunderstandings resides and where cultural diversity-targeted education can be most impactful. Ideally, successful cultural diversity-based pedagogy would result in outcomes consistent with UNESCO’s vision, and with what the Global Campaign for Peace Education (GCPE) (2018) considers cultural competence, which it defines as having an ability to interact effectively with persons of different cultures through understanding and communication. Consequently, the global support of cultural competency would symbolize an increasing commitment to educating for intercultural communication skill development, reducing cultural strangeness (Cohen, 1997), and understanding multiple cultures.

Communication Communication is wholly significant to the human experience; it is as fundamental to being human as breathing, and it is considered the primary means through which we begin to develop our sense of self (Mead, 1964). The word “communication” evolved from the Latin term communicare, loosely translated as “making common,” to suggest that interpersonal acts of communication are efforts to locate common ground with another. For human beings, communication is the primary conduit for socialization, acculturation, and education. Where institutionalized education is concerned, information deemed essential to a society’s durability is formally and comprehensively deposited through communication into the psyches of individuals. Only through effective communication can we begin to learn our cultural data and appreciate that of others; for this reason, a clear understanding of what makes for effective communication is vital. Communication is “the exchange of thoughts, messages, opinions or information by speech, writing, actions and/or nonverbal means between two or more people; includ[ing] verbal and nonverbal expression and reception (listening, acknowledgement) of messages” (Connors, 2016, p. 19). Despite this rather comprehensive definition, however, there is no one rule governing communication practices and parameters; indeed, the application of communication principles is as widely diverse as are cultures. This is because various cultures understand, value, and operationalize the methods and practices of communication differently. UNESCO (2001) acknowledged these differences in the Action Plan crafted to support the implementation of its UD when it wrote of the necessity to “preserve and make full use of culturally appropriate methods of communication and transmission of knowledge” (p. 15). To be sure, this acknowledgment that variants in cultural appropriateness exist regarding communication is, in and of itself, demonstrative of UNESCO’s respect for the intricate and influential dynamics of culture. Given the complexity of human nature and the tendency to view the self as different and distinct from the other, the idea that individuals representing diverse cultural backgrounds might be motivated to communicate for the purposes of understanding, accepting, and respecting each other’s differences is ideal, but also quite speculative. In fact, the history of interpersonal, group, and social contacts has taught us that, when persons with dissimilar cultures and backgrounds 305

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interact, their dominantly disparate identities and realities emerge and compete for recognition (Rothman, 1997), and this dynamic can impact the extent to which mutual learning about and acceptance of another’s culture occurs. For this reason, Remland et al. (2015) argue that, even where there is a motivation to share and learn about diversity, some level of Intercultural Communication Competence (ICC) is required if understanding (the basis of communication) is to take place. Arasaratnam (2011) has extensively studied intercultural communication to learn which skills produce the best outcomes in helping persons become conversant in navigating communication in intercultural spaces and achieving their goals. However, because cultural influences mandate behavioral appropriateness, focusing on what produces ICC in different cultural contexts has engaged the attention of scholars for decades, and led Arasaratnam (2009) to conclude that ICC involves a complex, “three-dimensional [process] based on cognitive, affective and behavioral [components]” (p. 1). To Arasaratnam’s (2009) list of dimensions, I would add those of milieu and context, and propose that, as scholars learn more about ICC and how it works, its infusion into pedagogical spaces will be of heightened significance to the accomplishment of peacebuilding. Before we proceed to our consideration of the term peacebuilding, it is important to further explore the notion of communication, especially as it relates to the term dialogue. In some academic and colloquial circles, the terms communication and dialogue are used interchangeably, so it is no surprise that both terms are referenced in UNESCO’s 2001 Declaration. However, while the terms are indeed related they are not to be used as synonyms; this point is crucial to our discussion, particularly with regard to my suggestion that ICC is significant to the accomplishment of cultural diversity education for peacebuilding. Drawing on the work of Martin Buber (1958), Remland et al. (2015) note that, “dialogue is a special kind of communication marked by speaking in which the speakers are communicating their uniqueness and their sameness at the same time for the purpose of transcending difference and aloneness” (p. 48). Similarly, Leeds-Hurwitz (2014) suggests that dialogue occurs when “members of different cultural groups who hold conflicting opinions and assumptions speak to one another in acknowledgement of those differences” (no. 1, para. 1). She adds: “Intercultural dialogue is co-constructed, requiring the cooperation of participants [who] frequently express hope that agreement in at least some areas may be achieved” (Leeds-Hurwitz, 2014, para. 1). Along these same lines, Fisher (in chapter 21 of this volume) contextualizes dialogue in terms of moving from points of divergence to reach agreement, and thus communicating to work through differences and resolve conflict. Consistent in these conceptualizations of the term dialogue is the characterization of the act as a communication process through which differences are at the fore and conflict resolution and agreement are the goals. However, unlike this narrower notion of dialogue, the broader concept, communication, is not dependent upon reaching agreement; this clarification of terms is important in light of UNESCO’s appeal. As the primary means through which education occurs, cultural diversity education is first and foremost dependent upon communication and understanding, not dialogue and agreement. A focus on dialogue should only be highlighted in those cases where the consequences of conflicting views make it necessary to resolve differences. However, where pedagogy is concerned, assigning the goal of agreement over that of understanding obscures and conflates the purposes of learning. For these reasons, I have chosen to use the terms intercultural communication and ICC in consideration of UNESCO’s declaration. Focusing on communication, the basis of which is understanding, seems most appropriate since the UD calls for learning about cultural diversity, and not for the resolution of culturebased conflict, although such resolution may occur during the educational process. This is important as the phrase intercultural dialogue seems prescriptive (Lederach, 1995), rigid, and narrow. 306

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On the other hand, the concept of communication encourages open and creative exchanges for the purposes of learning and building mutual understanding about another’s realities. To summarize, communication involves the understanding and sharing of meaning, and it can occur without the accomplishment of any goals related to conflict resolution or agreement. In a pedagogical context focused primarily on communication and cultural learning, i.e., knowledge acquired through the reception and recognition of another’s cultural constructs and set of cultural data, opportunities for moving towards mutual appreciation and respect for diversity are likely to emerge organically (see Senehi, 2010). ICC supports this type of emergence, and is especially vital to the advance of cultural diversity education for peacebuilding.

Peacebuilding When the former UNESCO Director-General proposed that intercultural communication is the “best” road to peace, he invested significant confidence in the potential for human communication to support peacebuilding, and he was not alone. Remland et al. (2015) propose that “the peacebuilding enterprise is . . . in the final analysis, the work of intercultural communication” (p. 17). Certainly, there is a direct link between communication and peace. In fact, “the idea to promote both the scientific study and practice of ICC gained considerable momentum during the 1970s, fueled in part by the need to train volunteers for the Peace Corp program” (Remland et al., 2015, p. 29). Consequently, ICC is crucial and indispensable to the UNESCO appeal, which rests on the belief that peacebuilding is both necessary and attainable. “The peacebuilding approach to intercultural communication is an interdisciplinary perspective that draws on the work of scholars in many fields, including sociology, social psychology, education, political science, anthropology and communication, to name a few” (Remland et al., 2015, p. 36). In fact, it is the expansive and versatile nature of cultural learning through intercultural communication which makes it so adaptable to the endeavor of peacebuilding. So, what is peacebuilding, and how is it distinguishable from two closely associated concepts: peacemaking and peacekeeping? The concept of peacebuilding encompasses “a wide array of activities, [including] capacity building for nonviolent communication and conflict resolution, trauma healing services, economic development, . . . [and] building broad based education systems” (Opffer, 2015, para. 1), along with other assorted concerns. Ultimately, the performance of peacebuilding is a co-created activity involving a mutual willingness to “accept dissent, address conflict constructively and build positive networks” (Connors, 2016, p. 85), and it is innately linked to the type of ICC which progressively moves individuals and groups from the state of cultural strangeness into realms of acquaintanceship, comradeship, and, quite possibly, friendship. Further, it could be argued that where education about cultural diversity must be based on communication, education for peacebuilding must be based on dialogue. Peacebuilding is related to, but distinguishable from peacemaking, which is focused on stopping violence, and peacekeeping, which is focused on preventing the recurrence of violence (Remland et  al., 2015). Consequently, where peacemaking and peacekeeping are concerned it can be presumed that participants are either actively engaged in violence or living in a postviolence situation. As such, “peacemaking and peacekeeping are reactive strategies designed to keep conflicting parties apart, [while] peacebuilding is a proactive means of bringing them together” (Remland et al., 2015, p. 36). Additionally, as Standish (Chapter 30 in this colume) and Lederach (2005) point out, peacebuilding is relationship-centered and transformative in nature. Consequently, its establishment as a global imperative makes it the most applicable term when considering UNESCO’s vision. This distinction of terms will hopefully clarify my choice of the 307

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term, “peacebuilding,” even though the word is not expressly used in UNESCO’s 2001 UD. For even though the UD was issued post-violence, the philosophies and strategies at the core of its appeals are forward-thinking, aspirational, proactive, and designed to promote interaction for the purposes of transformation, and are therefore consistent with the commission of peacebuilding. In their article, “Peacebuilding: What is in a name?” Barnett et al. (2007) discuss the complexities involved in defining and operationalizing the concept of peacebuilding. The authors note that, “although peacebuilding is generically defined as external interventions that are designed to prevent the eruption or return of armed conflict, there are critical differences among actors regarding its conceptualization and operationalization” (Barnett et al., 2007, p. 36). The authors highlight these differences by charting over 20 global agency variations on the meaning of the term. In light of the concept’s complexity and varied interpretations, for brevity and clarity, and to distinguish the term from peacemaking and peacekeeping, peacebuilding herein is considered the proactive, pre-conflict stage of facilitation wherein specific activities are implemented to encourage mutual articulation, appreciation, and acceptance of cultural differences as a conduit to social harmony and accord.

Opportunities, challenges, and resolutions Facilitating global opportunities for peacebuilding is only one of the likely benefits from incorporating cultural diversity-focused pedagogy into educational systems. Implementing this stream of pedagogy will also support opportunities for a more democratic and inclusive society, educational equity, and the design of pedagogics in numerous disciplines to reflect multiple cultural perspectives. Today, however, nearly two decades since UNESCOs issuance of its UD on Cultural Diversity, the goals are still very much a work-in-progress; upon practical reflection, this may come as no surprise. The vision of a world where every UN member state, let alone every global state, invests the resources, research, and time into educating its citizens about cultural differences is enormous. And truthfully, such ambitions are likely well beyond the economic, philosophical, social, and political inclinations of many governments. Even so, I suggest that UNESCO’s call for a perpetually active global commitment to peacebuilding – by any means necessary – is urgent in a 21stcentury world fraught with increasing state and non-state access to nuclear capabilities, along with intractable group conflicts. To be sure, the accomplishment of global peace is the most substantive of goals today, and no reasonable argument could be made contrary to this objective. The positive prospects for human life, liberty, and fulfillment in a world where mutual goodwill and harmony abound are infinite, and therefore, peace must be the goal for all of humanity. As with any worthwhile objectives however, the challenges associated with implementation are immeasurable. Being an educator with over 20 years’ experience teaching intercultural communication skills courses at the college level and conducting diversity training workshops for business persons and educators, I have been privileged to experience many of these challenges first-hand, and to develop pedagogical approaches to addressing them. In light of the four concepts covered in this chapter and based on my experiences working with adults representing an exceptionally diverse array of cultural and ethnic orientations and communication skill levels, below is a brief introduction to the greatest lessons I have learned.

Regarding culture Micro learning environments tend to be replicas of the macro social milieu. This means that through near imperceptible ethnocentrism, the cultural paradigms of the dominant group 308

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will influence the selections of course content and materials, styles of teaching, types of activities, learning styles, and types of interactions that occur in the educational setting. Therefore, careful attention and a sincere commitment to unbiased, egalitarian-centered pedagogics must be applied to counter the unequal distribution of classroom-based cultural capital in all its forms, embodied, objectified, and institutionalized (Bourdieu, 2005). Where this is not done, dominant cultural influences will threaten the depth and scope of learning about, appreciating, and respecting cultural differences. Among other things, active measures must be taken to support an entirely multi-cultural approach to every aspect of the curricula, participants, and environment. These measures must include the regular self-monitoring of instructors to ensure that their own position- and institution-based capital, along with their personal cultural beliefs, habits, and proclivities are uninvolved – to the greatest degree possible, in the setting.

Regarding intercultural Building on the idea that the micro culture tends to replicate the macro and my experiences that the mutual sharing about their own cultural realities offers the best learning opportunities for students, there will be challenges in supporting authentic, face-to-face intercultural interactions between learners. In most cases, the segregated cultural and ethnic enclaves (especially those based on socioeconomic class, race, and language) that exist in the social environment will be replicated in the educational setting. Given this, extraordinary measures must occur to assemble an adequate cultural mix of learners. Learning groups representing varied races, religions, genders, ages, socioeconomic backgrounds, ethnicities, nationalities, histories, languages, and more will offer the ideal setting for authentic learning about cultural differences.

Regarding communication Overwhelmingly, communication purposes, styles, and practices are culturally driven. Because communication is key to all human interactions, including those influencing learning, its relevance cannot be overstated. The lessons I have learned and desire to share regarding communication are too numerous for inclusion in this space; however, I feel compelled to briefly share two: 1

2

It is imperative that communication focus on building a shared understanding to create meaning between participants without being dependent on their mutual agreement. This is where intercultural communication and intercultural dialogue might be considered to part company. It is entirely possible for persons to establish communication based on shared understanding and meaning, which will support an appreciation and respect for cultural differences to produce peacebuilding, without the achievement of agreement about differences. While educators are urged to offer safe spaces where those representing traditionally marginalized and silenced voices are inspired to speak, the realities of participants’ personal and social proclivities to a dominated consciousness (see Freire, 1999), which might prohibit their expressions of voice, must be accounted for. This means that some participants may choose to stay silent, and this must be accepted by educators. After all, invoking pressure for the equal expression of participant voices might be perceived as oppressive and contrary to a truly peace-focused environment. Ultimately, limited participation may be the best alternative to an environment which reinforces oppression. 309

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Regarding peacebuilding As noted earlier, UNESCO’s vision of educating for the goal of global peacebuilding is immense, and so too must be the commitment of global pedagogy to this goal, if it is to be accomplished. The relegation of educating about cultural diversity for peacebuilding to one or two classes, i.e., intercultural communication skills, is insufficient as it does not reinforce cultural diversity learning; therefore, these themes must be incorporated universally into course curricula. Such incorporation would yield credence to these topics, demonstrate their significance in our world, and highlight the magnitude to which cultural diversity impacts multiple aspects of our day-to-day lives. In other words, the accomplishment of the UNESCO vision might be more feasible if the concept of peacebuilding becomes universally accepted as a core outcome of all curricula, courses, and training programs. This means that, similar to the growing commitment of many institutions to infuse Writing Across the Curriculum (WAC) and Speaking Across the Curriculum (SAC) content into each course of their curricula, there would also be a requirement to incorporate Peacebuilding Across the Curriculum (PAC) into all courses. PAC content could be crafted to highlight cultural diversity and multi-cultural perspectives in any number of courses, including the traditional ones like language, math, history and science.

Conclusion In this chapter, I have sought to highlight UNESCO’s UD on Cultural Diversity (2001) as the basis for advancing pedagogy devoted to teaching cultural diversity and peacebuilding. Using the UD as a framework, I have offered discussions on the four concepts at its core, culture, intercultural, communication, and peacebuilding, in an effort to emphasize their complexity, significance, and inter-relatedness. Finally, with regard to each of the four concepts I have shared a series of lessons I have learned related to the opportunities and challenges inherent in educating for cultural diversity and peacebuilding. Hopefully, this chapter will provoke further discussion on the UD, and encourage educators to share their approaches to resolving its challenges while dedicating themselves to advancing its call.

References Arasaratnam, L. (2009). The development of a new instrument of intercultural communication competence. Journal of Intercultural Communication. 20 (May). www.immi.se/intercultural/nr20/arasaratnam. htm Arasaratnam, L. A. (2011). Perception and Communication in Intercultural Spaces. Lanham, MD: University Press of America. Barnett, M., Hunjoon, K., O’Donnell, M. & Sitea, L. (2007). Peacebuilding: What is in a name? Global Governance, 13, 35–58. www.steps-for-peace.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/barnett-2007_ peacebuilding_gg.pdf Bourdieu, P. (2005). Language and Symbolic Power. Cambridge, UK: Polity. Buber, M. (1958). I and Thou. New York: Scribner. Cohen, R. (1997). Negotiating across Cultures: International Communication in an Interdependent World. Washington, DC: United States of Institute of Peace. Connors, J. (2016). Peace studies glossary. www.peace-ed-campaign.org/peace-studies-glossary/ Freire, P. (1999). Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Continuum. Galtung, J. (1996). Peace by Peaceful Means: Peace and Conflict, Development and Civilization. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Global Campaign for Peace Education (2018). www.peace-ed-campaign.org/ Huxley, J. S. (1942). Evolution: The Modern Synthesis. New York: Harper.

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Commissioning educators Inoue, Y. (2007). Cultural fluency as a guide to effective intercultural communication. Journal of Intercultural Communication 15. www.immi.se/intercultural/nr15/inoue.htm Klopf, D., & McCroskey, J. (2007). Intercultural Communication Encounters. Boston, MA: Pearson Education. Lederach, J. P. (1995). Preparing for Peace: Conflict Transformation across Cultures. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press. Lederach, J. P. (2005). The Moral Imagination. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Leeds-Hurwitz, W. (2014). Intercultural dialogue. https://centerforinterculturaldialogue.files.wordpress. com/2014/02/key-concept-intercultural-dialogue1.pdf Matsuura, K. (2001). UNESCO universal declaration on cultural diversity. Adopted by the 31st session of the general conference of UNESCO, Paris, Nov. 2. http://unesdoc.unesco.org/images/ 0012/001271/127160m.pdf Mead, George H. (1964). On Social Psychology: Selected Papers. Rev. Ed. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago. Monaghan, L. (2014). Center for Intercultural Dialogue. Key Concepts #11: Intercultural discourse and communication. https://centerforinterculturaldialogue.org/2014/04/22/key-concepts-11-inter cultural-discourse-communication/ Opffer, E. (2015). Key concept #64: Peacebuilding. July 9. https://centerforinterculturaldialogue. org/2015/05/18/key-concept-64-peacebuilding-by-elenie-opffer/ Remland, M., Jones, T., Foeman, A. & Arevalo, D. (2015). Intercultural Communication: A Peacebuilding Perspective. Long Grove, IL: Waveland Press. Reuters News Agency (2017, May 13). Pope says will be “sincere” with Trump at Vatican meeting. www. telegraph.co.uk/news/2017/05/13/pope-says-will-sincere-trump-vatican-meeting/ Rothman, J. (1997). Resolving Identity-Based Conflict in Nations, Organizations and Communities. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Senehi, J. (2010). Building peace: Storytelling to transform conflicts constructively. In D. J. D. Sandole, S. Byrne, I. Staroste-Sandole, & J. Senehi (Eds.), The Handbook of Conflict Analysis and Resolution (pp. 201–23). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. UNESCO 2001. Universal declaration on cultural diversity. Adopted by the 31st session of the general conference of UNESCO, Paris, Nov. 2.: http://unesdoc.unesco.org/images/0012/001271/127160m.pdf University of Manitoba (n.d.). Module I: Introduction. www.umanitoba.ca/faculties/arts/anthropology/ courses/122/module1/history.html

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PART VI

Critical and emancipatory peacebuilding

26 RETHINKING INTERNATIONAL PEACEBUILDING Necla Tschirgi

As a field of international policy, practice, and research, peacebuilding emerged during the last decade of the 20th century as the end of the Cold War heralded the possibility of a less violent international order. During the short interlude from the early 1990s to 9/11, there were novel approaches to address violent conflicts through concerted efforts at the local, regional, and international levels. Concurrently, research indicated a steady decline in inter-state wars and a growing interest in conflict prevention, conflict resolution, and peacebuilding. 9/11 and the global war on terror initiated a new era of violence and military responses towards emergent security threats. So far, the 21st century has witnessed changing forms of violence, deepening conflicts, and heightened insecurity. The dominant discourses of national security and coercive power, combined with the proliferation of armaments around the world, have again pushed hopes for a peaceful world into abeyance – putting advocates of conflict prevention and peacebuilding on the defensive. Peacebuilding is a highly contested concept with multiple definitions and heated debates regarding its key features and intended goals. It requires a commitment to preventing and resolving conflicts through peaceful means, bringing violent conflicts to an end, and addressing their root causes while rebuilding relationships. Since the early 1990s, peacebuilding has been identified most closely with liberal internationalism, with both its proponents and critics pointing to a set of principles, policies, and programs which characterize the liberal peacebuilding agenda. This chapter argues that liberal peacebuilding faces an upward battle in the current international climate, which threatens to reverse its limited achievements. The cascading sectarian conflicts in the Middle East, deepening intra-state conflicts and trans-border violence, the resurgence of inter-state conflicts, escalating incidences of terrorism and counter-terrorism, and rising levels of populism, xenophobia, isolationism, and militarism are symptoms of an international system in turmoil. The peacebuilding community finds itself increasingly sidelined as proponents of military solutions gain increased influence, resources, and power in national capitals and the international arena. Peacebuilding is relegated to the margins – over-shadowed by state-centric interests and hard security concerns, especially in regions where great power interests are at play. This presents scholars and practitioners of peacebuilding with a particularly challenging task, namely, how to build on the lessons of the last 25 years to advance collective efforts for peace in an increasingly turbulent international environment. This chapter addresses this 315

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pressing challenge. It consists of four parts. Part 1 starts with a quick review of the emergence of international peacebuilding at the end of the Cold War. Part 2 provides a brief analysis of the current international climate and its implications for peacebuilding. Part 3 summarizes the knowledge base of international peacebuilding in the 25 years since 1992. Finally, part 4 examines strategies that need to be nurtured if peacebuilding is to remain relevant as a field of policy, practice, and research. In light of the changing sources of violent conflict and creeping militarization in the early decades of the 21st century, the chapter concludes that peacebuilders need to move beyond local level peace efforts to engage with larger policy agendas on international peace and security.

Emergence of peacebuilding: Converging agendas Johan Galtung first introduced the term peacebuilding in the 1970s when peace was generally equated with the prevention of war between two rival blocs endowed with nuclear weapons. Peace, in effect, meant negative peace – specifically with respect to the avoidance of war between the two superpowers. Galtung’s definition of peacebuilding as an “associative approach” to create “structures to remove causes of wars and offer alternatives to war in situations where wars might occur” found little resonance (1976, p. 298). The fact that there were other wars (including proxy wars by Cold War rivals in faraway places) was not considered a high priority. It was only with the end of the Cold War that the international community began to pay serious attention to violent conflicts that created untold human suffering and political instability. The collapse of the Soviet Union allowed the creation of a unipolar international order under United States (US) hegemony. The dissipation of threats to the vital national interests of major powers provided a conducive environment to start addressing longstanding problems that had been at the source of civil wars and other local and regional conflicts. International peacebuilding flourished in this unusual (and short-lived) period and provided the peacebuilding community with a deeper understanding of the requirements for positive peace, including – among others – sustainable development, political participation, social inclusion, gender and human rights, justice, and reconciliation. Western powers played a dominant role in promoting the new peacebuilding agenda as part of a liberal world order based on free markets, free elections, democracy, the rule of law, and human rights (Paris, 2004). Liberal peacebuilding reflected the multilateral activism and optimism of the era. Throughout the 1990s, there was strong pressure on international actors to play a concerted role in assisting conflict-affected or post-conflict countries. The United Nations (UN), international and regional organizations, donor agencies, and non-governmental organizations (NGOs) working on development, human rights, and humanitarian relief became engaged in myriad activities, projects, and programs to address the sources or consequences of violent conflict alongside local actors (Tschirgi, 2004; Chetail, 2009). In the international arena, peacebuilding was initially defined in the UN Secretary-General Boutros-Ghali’s 1992 report, An Agenda for Peace, as part of a sequence of interventions from preventive diplomacy to post-conflict peacebuilding. It referred to post-conflict as “action to identify and support structures which tend to strengthen and solidify peace to avoid a relapse into conflict” (United Nations, 1992). However, it soon became clear that transitions from war to peace were complex and non-linear; they could not be addressed sequentially. As a result, peacebuilding gradually acquired a broader definition as the link between peace, security, and development – encompassing conflict prevention, conflict resolution, peacemaking, peacekeeping, and post-conflict reconstruction. 316

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Throughout the 1990s, international peacebuilding focused primarily on intra-state conflict or civil wars to provide a combination of humanitarian aid, political mediation, multidimensional peace operations, and development assistance. It was part of the liberal internationalist agenda that challenged the state-centric realpolitik of the Cold War years alongside the Ottawa Treaty to ban anti-personnel landmines, the campaign to establish the International Criminal Court, and the International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty, which led to the Responsibility to Protect (R2P) doctrine. Building on An Agenda for Peace, several successive documents helped to refine the international community’s understanding of peacebuilding and its operational implications (United Nations, 2010). The failed peace agreements in Angola, renewed conflicts in Haiti and Rwanda, and protracted wars in Afghanistan, Sudan, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo highlighted the need for new instruments and approaches to support sustainable peace. These led to the creation of multidimensional peace operations with civilian and military components, new conflict units, new service lines on security sector reform, disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration, and the rule of law. Civilian mandates included issues such as the reintegration of ex-combatants, resettlement of refugees and internally displaced persons, demining, transitional justice mechanisms, election and human rights monitoring, and institutional reforms. Yet the record of international interventions during the 1990s was far from successful. From Somalia and Rwanda to the Balkans, the UN was unable to prevent the outbreak or resurgence of violence. In the Balkans, conventional military forces from the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) were brought in to support UN peace operations. Nonetheless, the violent conflicts of the 1990s were generally not seen as threats to the vital interests of major powers, allowing international actors to approach peacebuilding as a humanitarian/development issue rather than an international security concern (Tschirgi, 2004; Ryan, 2013). It was only with 9/11 that the links between these conflicts and international security gained serious attention. After 9/11, peacebuilding took on additional urgency – albeit in ways that departed radically from the liberal internationalist model that had been developing for almost a decade. Several factors combined in the aftermath of the Cold War to allow peacebuilding to flourish as part of a larger ethos of multilateral activism. Long paralyzed by the veto power in the Security Council, the UN was finally able to assume a growing role in international affairs and articulated an emerging consensus on peace, development, security, and human rights – as reflected in successive UN conferences throughout the 1990s and several important reports, culminating in the Millennium Development Goals and the Millennium Declaration (Tschirgi, 2004). On the economic front, globalization and market liberalization accelerated, creating incentives for greater economic activity and integration in regions that had long been cut off from global markets – albeit not without negative consequences. Expectations of successful integration of the periphery into the global economy were not borne out – especially for conflictaffected or post-conflict countries. Meanwhile, the end of superpower rivalry that had ravaged many regions through externally funded proxy wars led to the privatization and commercialization of violence. Many conflict actors turned to illicit activities and criminal networks to finance local conflicts and civil wars. New research on economic agendas in civil wars demonstrated the important role of trans-border movement of resources, people, arms, and finances in fueling conflicts, leading to new approaches to address these problems. Concurrently, international development actors recognized the nexus between peace, security, and development – tailoring their assistance not only for poverty alleviation and economic development but also for conflict prevention and peacebuilding. Throughout the Cold War, development actors had avoided addressing conflicts as falling outside their mandates. During the 1990s, they created new programs, projects, and units and adopted innovative strategies to make development 317

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assistance conflict sensitive. The injunction “Do No Harm” was adopted to avoid the unintended consequences of development aid in conflict contexts (Tschirgi, 2004). The end of the Cold War also saw the rise of non-state actors in international affairs. Many conflicts of the 1990s were intra-state in nature and involved deep-rooted socioeconomic and political problems. The state-centric tool kit of the Cold War era proved inappropriate to deal with these new wars, complex political emergencies, or identity-based conflicts. This opened the space for non-state actors including local and international NGOs to assume a greater role in conflict prevention, human rights advocacy, humanitarian relief, and peacebuilding work. Animated by a liberal normative framework, the emerging peacebuilding paradigm involved external intervention in the domestic affairs of states, leading to growing engagement between internal and external actors to address root causes of conflict and build positive peace. As the international context changed after 9/11, so did peacebuilding – confronting an increasingly unfavorable environment that challenged the modest gains of the 1990s.

Peacebuilding after 9/11: Diverging agendas 9/11 radically changed the international security environment and the policies of major international actors. Unlike the multilateralist liberal agenda of the 1990s, after 9/11 state-centric national security doctrines re-emerged and helped shape the global war on terror and US-led wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. Major powers defined conflicts and failing states in distant countries as threats to their security and adopted strategic doctrines whereby stabilization, state-building, and postconflict reconstruction became instruments of their national security policies (United States, 2002, 2008; United Kingdom, 2008). With the dramatic change in the security environment, the international community’s approaches to peacebuilding also began to fragment, reflecting changing priorities. Much has been written about 9/11 and the growing securitization and instrumentalization of peacebuilding in the following decade (Newman et al., 2009; Tschirgi, 2013). The rise of hard security concerns due to terrorism and state failure, wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, military responses to terrorism, insurgency, and organized crime, and vastly increased security budgets represented a radical shift in the policies of major states towards weak, fragile, and conflict-affected states. Peacebuilding became conflated with a narrowly defined stabilization and state-building agenda to contain the impact of conflict and state fragility on the security interests of major powers (Baranyi, 2008; Tschirgi, 2013). One of the immediate consequences of 9/11 and the ensuing US-led global war on terror was the fraying of the consensus on the interdependence between peace, security, and development, and the multilateral cooperation that had led to the Millennium Declaration. The US-led war in Iraq, without UN Security Council authorization, created deep divisions within the international community. Interest in conflict prevention and peacebuilding that had been gathering momentum was overtaken by the global war on terror. As then Secretary-General Kofi Annan warned in 2003, the UN had to address new threats to collective security or risk erosion in the face of unilateral action by member states and growing discord among them (United Nations, 2003). The World Summit of 2005 proposed a new framework for peace and collective security, including the creation of a new UN peacebuilding architecture – comprised of the three-pillar Peacebuilding Commission, Fund, and Support Office. However, the Summit could not reverse the mounting tensions among member states. The ensuing decade witnessed a series of crises, which have radically altered both the dynamics and the tenor of international affairs. Even a cursory review reveals how far we have come since the hopeful years at the end of the Cold War. After the steady decline of wars in the 318

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closing decades of the 20th century, there was a revival of violent conflicts following 9/11 with the US-led wars in Afghanistan and Iraq and, subsequently, the Arab Spring, which unleashed a wave of instability and violence. As of this writing, civil wars rage in Libya, Yemen, and Syria, with political and terrorist violence spreading indiscriminately from Kenya, Nigeria, and Mali to Egypt and Morocco. The devastating Syrian civil war has continued for six years – bringing much death and destruction in its wake while the creation of the Islamic State (ISIS) in Syria and Iraq in 2014 introduced an unbridled global dimension to Jihadist terrorism. One of the consequences of the Syrian civil war and the creation of ISIS has been the massive flood of refugees to neighboring Turkey, Lebanon, and Jordan as well as to Europe – generating great turmoil. The European refugee crisis has, in turn, provoked xenophobia and nationalist political currents – further undermining international cooperation. The launch of the “America First” doctrine under US President Trump, the British decision to withdraw from the European Union, and the rise of populist movements in several Western countries represent growing reluctance on the part of major powers to undertake international engagements. Instead, harking back to the days of the Cold War, there are inter-state rivalries, re-militarization, and increased funding for military purposes rather than for development-oriented initiatives to address root causes of conflict and instability. A recent example powerfully illustrates this trend. In his May 2017 visit to Saudi Arabia, President Trump sought to rally Muslim leaders around a common agenda to combat global terrorism notwithstanding the fact that many countries in the Muslim world are engaged in civil wars, sectarian conflict, and massive human rights violations – longstanding problems that require long-term investments in peacebuilding. In departing Saudi Arabia, the US President announced an arms deal worth $110 billion to Saudi Arabia while that country is fighting a devastating war in neighboring Yemen. In retrospect, the post-Cold War decade when international peacebuilding flourished might be characterized as a brief interlude – an interregnum – before the consequences of the unraveling of the old international order took shape. Analysts agree that the Cold War was a dangerous but stable era due to the balance of power among the two nuclear superpowers and their allies. Initially, with the collapse of the Soviet Union, the US exercised unchallenged dominance as the sole superpower. This is no longer the case. The post-9/11 international system is characterized by diffusion of power and rising challenges to the US-led world order by states as well as non-state actors. After a period of unusual collaboration in the UN Security Council, Russia and China are reasserting their veto power to block collective action while redrawing boundaries in their neighborhoods and establishing spheres of influence in other regions. Expectations of the victory of the post-World War II liberal international order have given way to growing fragmentation and discord fed by a deep global financial crisis, growing inequalities within and among states, rising extremism and terrorism, rogue states like North Korea, non-state actors like ISIS, heightened sectarianism especially in the Muslim world, and populist regimes riding on the xenophobic wave mentioned above. These are accompanied by ongoing conflicts in South Asia, Africa, and the Middle East as well as the potential for renewed conflicts or wars in other parts of the world. Equally importantly, there is mounting evidence that a combination of demographic, socioeconomic, and environmental problems such as poverty, inequality, migration, and climate change are building up to create a “perfect storm” that is severely straining the capacities of individual states and the international system to address them to avoid new sources of conflict (Tschirgi, 2017). All these point to a more unstable and less peaceful world and the need for more investments in peacebuilding. Yet, the reality is that, since the heady days of the Millennium Declaration, the space and scope for international peacebuilding have shrunk considerably. With the dramatic change in 319

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the international security environment, peacebuilders face the dilemma of reconciling longterm development and security challenges with the pressing national concerns of key international actors. Almost 25 years after its entry into the international conflict management tool kit, peacebuilding policies and programs reflect deep tensions in the international arena. On the one hand, the UN, international organizations, donor agencies, NGOs, and peacebuilding practitioners recognize that development and security are deeply interlinked and building peace requires addressing the causes of conflict and violence which are often developmental in nature (World Bank, 2011). Indeed, the UN’s Peacebuilding Commission was created in 2005 to bring a concerted approach to international peacebuilding. Since its inception, the Commission has provided support to a small number of conflict-affected African countries, which required concerted international action (Jenkins, 2013). Yet other conflicts, such as Yemen, Libya, and Syria, were referred to the Security Council, which has once again become the arena for major powers to pursue their national interests in the name of international peace and security. Meanwhile, reminiscent of the Cold War, coercive power rather than multilateral approaches to collective security have made a strong comeback. These signal the emergence of a more conflictual world system whose contours remain undefined (Rubinstein, 2010). Its implications for peacebuilding are far-reaching.

Learning from practice: Peacebuilding in the periphery or peace writ global? Much has been learned about international peacebuilding in the last 25 years. The record of international peacebuilding is uneven, with only partial success in preventing the outbreak or recurrence of violent conflicts and rebuilding of war-torn societies. While there is no single peacebuilding doctrine applicable across all phases of conflict in different contexts, there is a wealth of practical experience which has generated a rich body of literature at the intersection of theory, policy, and practice. This literature consists of two parallel streams, which represent differing perspectives on the international peacebuilding enterprise: the mainstream problemsolving approach and the critical approach (Pugh, 2013; Newman et al., 2009). Very schematically, the mainstream approach accepts peacebuilding as part of the liberal international agenda and focuses on improving its effectiveness by addressing practical operational and implementation challenges (Newman et al., 2009; Tadjbakhsh, 2011). Also called the problemsolving approach, this body of literature attributes the shortcomings of international peacebuilding mainly to the disconnection between local conflict dynamics/priorities and the dysfunctional ties of the international system. Based on comparative evaluations and case studies, the problemsolving approach views peacebuilding’s shortcomings as amenable to more effective policies, good practices, and institutional reform. As a result, this body of literature has been highly influential with policymakers and practitioners in designing and implementing peacebuilding interventions. Meanwhile, a parallel body of literature, the critical school, emerged to question the type of peace being built and the suitability of the liberal model for non-Western societies. It argued that externally driven liberal peacebuilding is not only inappropriate to address the deep-rooted problems in conflict-affected countries, but it in fact perpetuates systemic problems such as global and domestic power asymmetries, the economic drivers of conflict, and the negative impacts of the policies of key states and international organizations. Unlike the problemsolving approach, critical theorists called for new models of “emancipatory,” “indigenous,” or “communitarian” peacebuilding – based on local needs and aspirations rather than liberal internationalism (Pugh, 2013; Newman et al., 2009; Tadjbakhsh, 2011). These two bodies of literature have led to heated debates and contrasting assessments of liberal peacebuilding. Initially, the debates centered on the underlying assumptions and anticipated 320

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outcomes of international peacebuilding. However, with the gradual cooptation of peacebuilding to serve other agendas such as counter-terrorism, counter-insurgency, and regime change, the critical school has increasingly turned its attention to the motivations and consequences of international peacebuilding. Much of the sharp criticism of liberal peacebuilding as inappropriate or ineffective has since been overtaken by more sinister developments that threaten to plunge the world into a protracted era of war and conflict. The challenge no longer is whether liberal peacebuilding is a suitable strategy to build peace in conflict-affected countries, but whether it is possible to prevent the use of coercive and military power in an increasingly turbulent and fractious world and how best to employ peacebuilding as part of the international repertoire of conflict management and peaceful change. What has been learned in the last decades provides important insights and a useful lens to understand the difficult challenges confronting the international community in the years ahead. The combination of normative developments, institutional reform, policy renovations, fieldbased learning in peacebuilding is invaluable. There is a robust community of peacebuilders – academics, policymakers, and practitioners at all levels – whose work provides the foundation for promoting peace. Beyond support to local peacebuilding efforts, if the peacebuilding agenda is to survive the steady slide to realpolitik and militarism, it requires the collective efforts of local as well as international peacebuilders working on multiple fronts. Peacebuilding cannot be seen simply as a time-bound, externally supported enterprise. Going back to its origins, it must be recast as an ongoing commitment to resist violence and injustice and to seek peaceful solutions to complex problems that generate violent conflict. While the space and scope for peacebuilding work might expand or contract depending on circumstances, the potential for peacebuilding emerges from the same soil where there is war, violence, and oppression. This requires careful analysis of the lessons of the last 25 years, drawing on both mainstream and critical research. There are three broad lessons about international peacebuilding: the politics of peacebuilding, the importance of multidimensional and inclusive processes, and the imperative for long-term engagement. These lessons correspond to the operational challenges identified by mainstream research, which led to important changes in the design and implementation of international interventions over time. The fourth lesson, drawn from critical theory, relates to the viability of localized peacebuilding as an instrument of international peace and security. The first lesson is that peacebuilding is not a technical, social engineering project but a messy political process of contestation between myriad internal and external actors with their own agendas (Cousens et al., 2001, Barnett & Zürcher, 2009). Unless these are recognized and effectively negotiated within a broader political strategy, international assistance is unlikely to contribute to sustainable peace in conflict-affected societies (Newman et al., 2009). This key lesson has led to various changes in the policies and practices of international actors, including making development assistance more conflict sensitive, the injunction to “Do No Harm,” and the development of whole-of-government approaches by donor countries to integrate their policies in development, defense, and diplomacy to improve their assistance (Stewart & Brown, 2007). A second key lesson is that peacebuilding requires both top-down and bottom-up approaches, involving state and non-state actors including civil society, grassroots, and community organizations. An important corollary is that all peacebuilding is context-specific and needs to be locally driven. For international actors, this has meant more than paying lip service to local ownership. Both theory and practice have established that respect for agency and inclusion of diverse actors are central to successful outcomes. There is a wealth of experience across the world in inclusive processes such as dialogue and facilitation, mediation, accompaniment, second track diplomacy, zones of peace, and justice and reconciliation processes. International support for 321

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local peacebuilding has been particularly useful in providing comparative knowledge, useful partnerships, and networks, as well as financial and human resources across conflict contexts. A third key lesson is the imperative for long-term commitment. However well intentioned their motivations, international actors view peacebuilding as a time-bound project with timelines linked to agency mandates, donor frameworks, and project funding cycles. The UN and other international peacebuilders approach peacebuilding by defining their “exit strategy” while local actors view peacebuilding in generational terms; there is no exit strategy and no endpoint. The fact that many countries relapse into violence within five to ten years after the end of their conflict is a sobering reminder that unrealistic expectations can be counter-productive. As a result, there is increased understanding of the need for long-term international engagement. Perhaps the most important lesson, and one that has been at the heart of critical approaches to peacebuilding, is that peacebuilding cannot be compartmentalized and disconnected from the larger systemic issues that threaten international peace and security. Improving the effectiveness and impact of international peacebuilding interventions in concrete conflicts can overcome the limitations identified by mainstream peacebuilding research. However, critical theory offers a more fundamental assessment of the limitations of international peacebuilding. Critical analysts draw a broader lesson, namely, that liberal peacebuilding has steadily distanced itself from the political economy of global peace and security, becoming a narrowly cast strategy for conflictaffected and fragile states. It has divorced itself from its international context and ignored the larger systemic political, social, demographic, economic, cultural, and environmental factors that contribute to violence, war, and militarism at the global level. This has gradually led peacebuilding to a marginal role in the current international system. Interestingly, the UN came to a similar conclusion following the ten-year review of its peacebuilding architecture. Undertaken by a panel of experts in 2015, the review was highly critical of the international approach to peacebuilding. The panel’s report noted that for the UN peacebuilding had been an afterthought: “underprioritized, under resourced and undertaken only after the guns fall silent” (United Nations, 2015). It added: “Sustaining peace, however, is among the core tasks established for the Organization by the vision set out in the Charter of the United Nations of saving succeeding generations from the scourge of war. It must be the principle that flows through all the Organization’s engagements, informing all its activities – before, during and after violent conflicts – rather than being marginalized” (United Nations, 2015). To bring peacebuilding into the core of the UN’s work, the panel introduced the concept of “sustaining peace” to encompass the entire spectrum of UN activities in peace, security, development, and human rights − from prevention to post-conflict recovery and reconstruction. Among other things, the new concept challenged the UN and other actors to move beyond looking at peace and conflict in a sectorial way, advocated more flexible and demand-driven approaches, and highlighted the interlinkages between the political and security, development, and human rights pillars of the UN. In April 2016, the UN General Assembly and the Security Council passed concurrent resolutions in response to the report’s findings and recommendations and embraced the “sustaining peace” concept (United Nations, 2016). The resolutions gave a new lease on life to the UN’s peacebuilding architecture and expanded the scope of the UN’s peacebuilding work. However, they are insufficient to reverse the paralysis of the Security Council, overcome the deep cleavages in the world body, and address the systemic problems in the current world system. Nonetheless, coming in the wake of the Sustainable Development Goals in 2015, the “sustaining peace” concept represents recognition of the interdependence between the various tasks that await collective action, including poverty, inequality, climate change, health, sanitation, peace, and security. It does, however, avoid the role of the contemporary world system in generating conflict. 322

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Priorities for the next generation of international peacebuilding What does the preceding analysis mean for the future of peacebuilding? Should it continue as a narrowly cast enterprise, with renewed commitment to improve its effectiveness and impact in selected conflict-affected countries? Should it be given up as a naïve and spent-up force that is a relic of a different, more hopeful era? Can it be revived as a broader platform for peace in the coming decades? It is worth remembering that, despite its shortcomings and mixed results, international peacebuilding generated great enthusiasm, energy, and action around three mutually reinforcing ideas: (1) peacebuilding is a collective endeavor that requires multidimensional and multilevel action, (2) an expanded concept of both negative and positive peace is an international responsibility, and (3) peacebuilding cannot be relegated to states; it requires engagement by non-state actors. With multiple ongoing wars – some initiated, funded, and cynically rationalized by major powers as enhancing international peace and security – peacebuilding is clearly not a high international priority. However, it should not be given up as futile. Instead, peacebuilding strategies need to be reframed for the longer haul towards a global agenda for peace. The peacebuilding community needs to invest in multi-level strategies for conflict prevention and peacebuilding. In conflict-affected countries, the strategy needs to be tailored to advance local-level efforts where peacebuilding requires political processes of vertical and horizontal negotiations and accommodation. Peacebuilding involves formal mechanisms such as powersharing, constitutional, and political reform as well as the informal processes of social integration, relationship building, and pluralism. The tools of conflict resolution and peacebuilding – including dialogue processes, mediation, negotiation, and reconciliation – are relevant for every stage of the conflict cycle, whether during ongoing conflict as in Syria and Yemen, or in Somalia where sporadic conflict coexists with peacebuilding, or in Colombia after the historic signing of its peace agreement. Concerted international action can help support locally driven peacebuilding while refraining from imposing external agendas into conflict dynamics. Internationally, the priority must be the prevention of violence – recognizing that restoring peace is exceedingly difficult once violence has erupted. There are deep-seated obstacles to prevention; nonetheless, the conflict resolution and peacebuilding community needs to invest in operational prevention to deal with the proximate or immediate causes of conflict. The more important challenge lies in addressing deep-rooted, systemic issues and policies as part of structural prevention. There is a compelling body of knowledge on the complex interplay between long-term development trends and various forms of conflict and insecurity. The conceptual and operational advances made since the early 1990s in orienting development aid to address the socioeconomic sources of conflict and to bring a peacebuilding lens to development aid need to be strengthened. The Sustainable Development Goals (SDG) offer a useful tool. SDG 16 explicitly aims to “promote peaceful and inclusive societies for sustainable development, provide access to justice for all and build effective, accountable and inclusive institutions at all levels.” This requires long-term and locally grounded investments in peacebuilding. Equally importantly, the conflict resolution and peacebuilding community needs to engage with larger policy agendas to make the case that peace and security cannot be secured through reliance on military force. In an interdependent world, the root causes of violence, war, and conflict are complex and do not lend themselves to coercive solutions. Peacebuilding researchers need to focus on examining the contemporary world system and its implications for conflict generation as well as peacebuilding. In this light, going beyond marginal reforms of the international aid system to improve its effectiveness, peacebuilding policymakers and researchers need to be at 323

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the forefront to create institutions of global governance that can rise to the concurrent challenges of violence and militarism on the one hand, and xenophobia and isolationism on the other. Finally, peacebuilding research and practice need to forge closer alliances with researchers and activists in other sectors such as diplomacy, human rights, social justice, countering violence extremism, women, peace and security, environment and climate change, social entrepreneurship, corporate social responsibility, nuclear non-proliferation, disarmament, and human security. A robust alliance between different sectors committed to peaceful change is necessary to ensure that their efforts have a multiplier effect and counteract the hard security doctrines and the steady militarization of international affairs in favor of nonviolent approaches to conflict resolution and peacebuilding. This is certainly a tall order, but one that peacebuilders have learned to confront since they constantly find themselves working against difficult odds. Every era presents them with new problems and new challenges. This is why peacebuilding is seen as always being “at the crossroads;” its success ultimately depends on its ability to learn from the past and to provide alternative visions for the future (Alger, 2013).

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Rethinking international peacebuilding United Kingdom (2008). The National Security Strategy of the United Kingdom. Norwich, UK: Her Majesty’s Stationary Office. http://ccpic.mai.gov.ro/docs/UK_national_security_strategy.pdf United Nations (1992). An Agenda for Peace: Preventive Diplomacy, Peacemaking and Peace-Keeping. New York: United Nations. https://peaceoperationsreview.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/an_agenda_ for_peace_1992.pdf United Nations (2003). Address by the Secretary-General to the General Assembly, Sept. 23. New York: United Nations. www.un.org/webcast/ga/58/statements/sg2eng030923.htm United Nations (2015). The Challenge of Sustaining Peace: Report of the Advisory Group of Experts on the United Nations Peacebuilding Architecture. A/69/968-S/2015/490. New York: United Nations. United Nations (2016). S/RES/2282 and General Assembly, review of the United Nations peacebuilding architecture. A/RES/70/262. New York: United Nations. www.un.org/en/development/desa/population/ migration/generalassembly/docs/globalcompact/A_RES_70_262.pdf United Nations Peacebuilding Support Office (2010). Peacebuilding: An Orientation. New York: United Nations. www.un.org/en/peacebuilding/pbso/pdf/peacebuilding_orientation.pdf United Nations Security Council (2016). Security Council Resolution 2282. New York: United Nations. www.un.org/press/en/2016/sc12340.doc.htm United States (2002). The National Security Strategy of the United States of America. Washington, DC: White House. www.state.gov/documents/organization/63562.pdf United States (2008). National Defense Strategy. Washington, DC: Department of Defense. www.defense. gov/Portals/1/Documents/pubs/2008NationalDefenseStrategy.pdf World Bank (2011). World Development Report 2011: Conflict, Peace and Security. Washington, DC: World Bank. https://siteresources.worldbank.org/INTWDRS/Resources/WDR2011_Full_Text.pdf

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27 YOUTH, PEACE, AND SECURITY Global trends and a Colombian case study Lesley J. Pruitt In the United Nations (UN) founding charter, the preamble spells out that, “We the Peoples of the United Nations determined to save succeeding generations from the scourge of war . . . [pledge] to reaffirm faith in fundamental human rights, in the dignity and worth of the human person, in the equal rights of men and women and of nations large and small” (Solnit, 2016, p. 113). In this declared pledge to succeeding generations, one might theorize some degree of commitment to intergenerational justice and intergenerational leadership at the UN, and in global peacebuilding efforts more broadly. As this chapter contends, there has certainly been some movement toward these ends, but ongoing work is required to include, acknowledge, and support youth as key agents for peacebuilding now and in the future. Over the past decade in particular, peace and conflict studies (PACS) has evidenced a growing interest around the world in the engagement of youth in peacebuilding. Youth participate in and are affected by conflict in diverse ways. For example, research has shown that young people, while often focused on as potential or actual victims or perpetrators, can play important roles as peacebuilders. Moreover, it is important not to suggest that individual youth may only take on one of these roles; rather, youth may play changing roles under changing circumstances, and thus deserve ongoing, reflective support and recognition in peacebuilding efforts. Work engaging directly with young people involved in peacebuilding in diverse contexts is critical to improve understandings and practices related to the various ways youth may experience violence and work for peace. In particular, I argue that considering young people’s roles in peacebuilding can make visible the local/global nexus in unique and important ways that can transform our understanding of peace more broadly. Globally, youth take part in a variety of peacebuilding activities, including peace education programs and programs that promote cross-community dialogue through creative means. In identifying core theoretical concepts and approaches and critically reflecting on practices in both scholarly and real-world work on engaging youth in peacebuilding, this chapter highlights key possibilities and challenges. The chapter is structured as follows. First, I define key terms. Next, I outline recent developments in youth peacebuilding, including recognition and support in global policy frameworks and platforms. From there, to explore these ideas further, I present and analyze a case study of a dance-based youth peacebuilding initiative in Colombia. 326

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Key concepts When attempting to define youth, it is crucial to recognize that even different constituents of the UN and key related bodies use “youth” to denote people in different age ranges. For example, the UN Development Program (UNDP) Youth Strategy for 2014–17 (2014, p. 47) notes that the UN Secretariat, the UN’s Children’s Fund (UNICEF), the World Health Organization (WHO), the UN’s Population Fund (UNFPA), the International Labor Organization (ILO), and the UN’s Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) all use the age range of 15–24 to represent youth. On the other hand, the UN Habitat (Youth Fund) expands the term to encompass young people from 15 to 32 years of age, while in the African Union Charter youth is taken to mean people 15–35 years old. Meanwhile, children are usually understood to be those less than 18 years of age, including under the Convention on the Rights of the Child. Because this demographic includes some crossover with youth, the same young person might be understood as a child in one context and a youth in another. These closely related terms also sometimes overlap with young people, which the UNFPA defines as those aged 10–24 (UNDP, 2014, p. 47). Overall, youth is used flexibly, and the understanding of its meaning is contested and differs across contexts, institutions, and time. Here, “I use the term ‘youth’ to include young people who self-identify and/ or are identified by their peers and mentors as youth” (Pruitt, 2011, p. 208). Likewise, peacebuilding can encompass a broad range of activities, some more accessible to youth than others. While historically, the UN usually focused on formal political activities like institution building, peace negotiations, and elections (Pruitt, 2013, p. 58; see also Jeong, 2005), these activities may be impossible or very difficult for youth to engage in (Porter, 2003), and they have often been formally excluded from doing so. Indeed, instances of young people having significant involvement in peace processes are few and far between. For example, consider Sierra Leone, which was in many ways seen as a successful case of UN peacebuilding. There, youth made up over half the population and were often deeply involved in political violence prior to the peace agreement; yet the peacebuilding period still featured youth marginalization and a lack of attention to issues significant for youth (McIntyre & Thusi, 2003, p. 59). Nevertheless, youth involvement in formal peacebuilding activities is not the only area that deserves attention. As Zelizer and Rubinstein (2009) note, peacebuilding can be interpreted more broadly to account for grassroots processes aiming to empower citizens working for change across various divides, restore and heal communities affected by conflict, and create institutions that can help prevent wide-ranging types of violence. Drawing on and combining definitions provided by Schirch (2004) and Lederach (1997, 2005), when considering the role(s) of youth, I use peacebuilding to “refer to bottom-up approaches aimed at preventing, reducing, transforming, and assisting people to recover from all forms of violence, including structural violence that has yet to result in widespread civil turbulence” (Pruitt, 2011, p. 208). Applying this broad definition can make visible the diverse ways in which young people can and do participate in peacebuilding, including through creative work to build cultures of peace locally, nationally, regionally, and globally.

Locating youth in global peace and security efforts Youth in conflict Young people are key stakeholders in peace and security efforts locally and globally (Pruitt, 2014). This is evident, for example, in a variety of points noted by the UN’s Office of the 327

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Secretary-General’s Envoy on Youth in the #YouthStats report on armed conflict (2016) which notes that, “[m]ore than 600 million youth live in fragile and conflict-affected countries and territories,” and that “[o]f the 1.5 billion people living in fragile contexts around the world, 40% are youth” (p. 3). Moreover, this report shows that not only are young people quantitatively a significant cohort of the populations affected by conflict, but also, they are often differently and uniquely affected based on their ages and other intersecting identity factors, such as gender. For example, the report notes that youth and children recruited into armed groups experience psychological and physical impacts that can continue to affect them and their communities in generations to come. It also notes that each estimate of deaths resulting from direct conflict indicates that over 90 percent of these deaths happen to young adult males, while young women notably make up 10–30 percent of armed groups globally and conflict often leaves adolescent girls more susceptible to exploitation, abuse, and violence (UN Office of the Secretary-General’s Envoy on Youth, 2016). Moreover, according to this report less than half of youth in conflict areas are enrolled in secondary school and the number is much lower for girls. Despite the wide range of experiences young people have in and around conflict, they have often been ignored or seen only through the narrow lens of the youth bulge thesis — a theory that has dominated discussions of youth when they have been mentioned within mainstream forums of international relations. The key presumption of the theory is that, where there are many young men, the likelihood of violence is strong. Young men in urban West Africa have been described as “loose molecules in an unstable social fluid that threatened to ignite” (Kaplan, 1996, p. 16). Likewise, under this framework, presumed links between violent instability and too many youth have been based on the notion “that young men are ‘inherently violent’” (Cincotta et al., 2003, p. 44). Despite a number of well-articulated critiques by scholars refuting these claims, the ideas have “proven remarkably influential with policymakers” (Sommers, 2011, p. 295). For example, Sjoberg (2014) asserts that youth deemed to be military age males (MAMs) are regularly excluded from civilian death counts. While youth are often ignored in foreign policy, when they are seen it is typically through this youth bulge lens, which codes youth as masculine and violent and tends to ignore youth outside those parameters, including young women and youth peacebuilders. Given that the age ranges often given for youth include some crossover with those deemed as children, it is also worth highlighting how in this sense young people are often presumed to be victims (Borer et al., 2006). Indeed, young people are rarely seen as active agents for peace (Lederach, 2005; McEvoy-Levy, 2001; Schwartz, 2010; Watson, 2008). Instead, the common presumption that young people will receive trickle down benefits from more general or adult-centric attempts to deal with conflict often leaves aside their concerns and needs (Watson, 2008). Despite the dominance of this longstanding and false victim/perpetrator dichotomy, the role of youth in peacebuilding has garnered increasing critical attention in scholarly circles in recent years. Take, for example, the 2015 Peacebuilding special issue, “Every Day Peace and Youth.” In it, diverse roles of youth in peace and conflict are explored, with articles considering a number of case studies from around the world (Berents, 2015; Kurtenbach & Pawelz, 2015; McEvoy-Levy, 2015; Pruitt, 2015; Turner, 2015). These recent scholarly contributions, which incorporate a diverse range of methodologies, theoretical frameworks, and geographic areas of focus, highlight important challenges to historically dominant ways of understanding youth in relation to peace and conflict. They also widen the lens to help see youth more accurately in PACS, including accounting for roles they can and do play as peacebuilders. 328

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Youth in global institutions and policy frameworks Young people advocating for their inclusion in global peacebuilding efforts have seen significant wins in recent years. Consider, for example, Malala Yousafzai. Born in northwest Pakistan, Malala began writing for a BBC blog in 2009. In the blog she documented her experiences growing up in a conflict-affected area the Taliban sought to control. Despite Taliban orders, she continued to attend school and encouraged other girls to do so. In 2012 on the way home from school, her bus was stopped by Taliban fighters who boarded and asked who Malala was; they then shot her in the face. After being flown to Britain and undergoing several operations, Malala not only survived, but continued to publicly advocate for peace and education for all, including girls. On her sixteenth birthday she addressed the UN with special reference to women and young people, saying, “Let us pick up our books and pens. They are our most powerful weapons” (Yousafzai, 2013). In 2014, at the age of 17, Malala became the youngest person to win the Nobel Peace Prize. While Malala is a very prominent example of a young person engaged in peacebuilding, it is important to remember that it is not only youth who gain global fame who can and do make a difference through working to building cultures of peace. Indeed, it is crucial to pay attention to “The other girls on Malala’s school bus that October afternoon, and the millions of children around the world who form children’s clubs and youth forums, who challenge the entrenched and violent views of older generations, or who simply seek to survive and protect others amidst conflict,” as they “are examples of the positive and enduring role that some children can play in building peace” (Huynh et al., p. 187). In many contexts, individual youth committed to working for peace come together to take collective action, locally, regionally, and/or globally. Take, for example, this statement written and presented by young people as part of the Association of South East Asian Nations (ASEAN) Youth Forum (AYF). “We, the young people of ASEAN, aspire for the promotion of non-discrimination, equality, peace, protection, sustainability, and inclusive development of the ASEAN community that are in line with the principles and values of human rights, democracy, justice and freedom in all aspects of our lives” (ASEAN, 2014, p. 1). This statement, delivered by the Yangon Youth Declaration/ASEAN Youth, shows a commitment to peacebuilding. The statement goes on to list things the youth delegates strongly demand to attain their vision; among these is the need for urgent work with youth to fully engage with young people’s roles when it comes to peace. To do so, the declaration calls on ASEAN leaders to: Create and support peaceful dialogues with governments and various stakeholders; Initiate youth focused peace education in curriculums and alternative peacebuilding programs; Provide safe spaces for youth to meaningfully engage in peacebuilding efforts such as interfaith dialogues and cross-cultural exchanges at the community, national and regional levels specifically in conflict areas, and provide protection for youth impacted by conflict. (p. 2) This strong, active language in support of recognizing and addressing the diverse range of roles youth can take on in conflict and peacebuilding signifies important steps towards acknowledging youth as key stakeholders in peace and security. At the same time, the lead up to the AYF highlights challenges youth face in being heard and representing themselves, especially when they may be critical of existing government policies. Indeed, only three of ten member countries – Myanmar, the Philippines, and Indonesia – approved the AYF elected delegates. 329

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The rest opted to replace them with delegates selected by the government (Asia Pacific Youth Employment Network, 2014). Recognizing advocacy by youth organizations, in December 2015 the UN Security Council unanimously passed Resolution (UNSCR) 2250 on Youth, Peace and Security. The resolution focuses on the diverse roles youth can and do play, both in conflict-affected settings and in peacebuilding more broadly. Incorporating five pillars, UNSCR 2250 especially considers participation, protection, prevention, partnerships, and disengagement and reintegration. In recognizing the many angles through which youth can be involved, the resolution takes significant steps toward breaking down stereotypes that see youth as mostly or only perpetrators or victims or otherwise ignore youth (Berents & Pruitt 2015). Moving forward, it is worth further considering ways youth have been and are engaged in peacebuilding. To that end, the following section presents a case study from Colombia. It explores and articulates some of the ways youth get involved in a peacebuilding program and how they understand peacebuilding more broadly.

Young people’s diverse roles in peace and conflict: A Colombian case study A brief history of the conflict The Colombian conflict, which involves many factors, went on for the full second half of the 20th century (Lopez Montaño & Garciá Durán, 2000, p. 78) and well into the 21st, making it the longest armed conflict in the Americas. The conflict involved a number of armed groups, including Colombian government forces, left-wing guerrilla groups such as the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) and the National Liberation Army (ELN), as well as rightwing paramilitary groups and crime syndicates. These groups had different reasons for fighting in the conflict, which was often understood to have stemmed from the period known as La Violencia, starting in the wake of the assassination of presidential candidate Jorge Eliécer Gaitánin in 1948. Numerous people were deeply affected, with Colombian civilians experiencing no less than three waves of significant displacement in the second half of the twentieth century (Sanford, 2003, p. 117). Likewise, significant coordination was developed with contributions from “the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), national Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs), international NGOs (INGOs), Catholic church-based NGOs and the state in the provision of humanitarian aid to internally displaced people (IDPs)” (Sanford, 2003, p. 117). For further, more detailed information on the history and context of the Colombian conflict in the lead up to the most recent peace process, see Bouvier (2009). Despite these protracted, complex conflict conditions, many Colombians worked long and hard to establish peace. In the early 1990s for example, “Although these citizen efforts were small and low in visibility, they did provide space – in a polarized and violent political climate – in which to search for common ground and push for talks” (Isacson & Rodriguez, 2009, p. 21). Largely growing out of the worst violence of the 1990s, the Colombian peace movement drew on civil society, building strength across diversity. By the end of the 1990s, large gatherings for peace had become fairly common, though their levels of success varied (Isacson & Rodriguez, 2009, p. 23). Many of these efforts sought to address problems the country has faced across the social, political, and economic realms (Lopez Montaño & Garciá Durán, 2000). This work was critical and necessary, as according to Lopez Montaño and Garciá Durán (2000) the lack of attention to social, political, and economic exclusion likely caused and escalated the violence. At the same time, authors such as Elhawary (2008) caution against oversimplification in understanding 330

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and addressing causes of the Colombian conflict, noting liberal assumptions that international development aid could reduce violent conflict can fall flat when aid agencies fail to understand the complex links between conflict and development; where this is the case, their programming may actually lead to results that conflict with their stated aims of peace and justice. In any case, by the early-mid 2000s it was clear that peace groups were often not at the table when it came to formal dialogues between the government and armed actors, which led some to make charges of elitism and blaming failures on this marginalization of civil society actors (Isacson & Rodriguez, 2009). This notwithstanding, Isacson and Rodriguez (2009, p. 36) have argued that, “the most innovative and energetic peace and conflict-resolution efforts are currently most visible at the local – not the national – level.”

Recent developments Negotiations for the most recent peace process, held between the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia-People’s Army (FARC-EP) and the Colombian government under President Juan Manuel Santos, started in September of 2012 and were mostly held in Havana, Cuba. A gender sub-commission, established in September 2014, made a number of recommendations including not only gender, but also many other issues. They recommended what has been referred to as a differential approach. This was incorporated, which means the peace agreement included the idea that different groups of people have different understandings of peace, and that this might differ based on things like gender, age, ethnicity, and sexual orientation, among other categories. This is unique among peace accords and is relevant to understanding the different ways young people may understand and work for peace. A final peace agreement was announced on August 24, 2016. Yet, despite the peace agreement announcement, a referendum expected to approve the deal was instead narrowly defeated on October 2, 2016 by a vote of 49.8 percent for and 50.2 percent against. Following the vote, grassroots efforts were launched to save the accords, with a silent march, mostly organized by youth and students, held only three days after. A week later another march followed, with an estimated 30,000 participants. Following the first march, a peace camp was erected in the main plaza and named ocupaz, a combination of the words for peace and occupy. It reportedly grew to over 100 tents before spreading to five other cities outside the capital, Bogotá. On October 7, 2016, President Santos was named winner of the Nobel Peace Prize. Instead of holding a second referendum, on November 24, 2016 FARC and the Colombian government signed a new peace agreement, which they sent to Congress to ratify. The ratification of the revised peace accord was completed November 29–30, 2016, thus officially ending the conflict.

Significance of young people in peace and conflict in Colombia Colombia’s conflict had profound negative effects for children and youth. Many experienced forced recruitment, attacks against schools, rape or other sexual violence, maiming, killing, and/or the denial of humanitarian assistance (United Nations, 2012; Watchlist on Children and Armed Conflict, 2012). From 2003 to 2014 over 12,000 children were “disengaged from illegal armed groups in Colombia” (Downing, 2014, p. 33). Based on interviews with ex-combatants, Downing (2014) examined key factors driving child recruitment in the Colombian context and outlined key peacebuilding issues. Other earlier research from 2003 noted that “very few had been forced to join, that forcible recruitment was the exception” (Nilsson, 2013, p. 1410). This, therefore, points to the need to understand factors that might increase or 331

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reduce the likelihood of young people joining armed groups. Beyond engaging in the conflict themselves, many young people were affected by conflict-related displacement. Over half of the 3.9–5.3 million people internally displaced by the conflict were under 18 (Watchlist on Children and Armed Conflict, 2012), which also made them particularly vulnerable to the dangers that led them to flee. At the same time, it is important to consider these issues alongside examinations of the ways that youth and children also recreate their everyday lives amidst violence, how they survive, and how they organize to create peace and democracy (Sanford, 2006). In support of this, through fieldwork in Colombia and Guatemala, Sanford (2006, p. 52) found that: (1) Displaced children and youth are more likely to be recruited by armed actors; (2) displaced children and youth participating in community peacemaking projects are less likely to seek out and more likely to successfully resist recruitment by armed actors, and (3) the moral imagination of local peacemaking projects in ongoing conflict creates new possibilities for peaceful resolution of internal armed conflict. Children and youth have also often not had their needs met in efforts at transitional justice, which have often failed to invest in developing materials accessible for young people (Aptel & Ladisch, 2011). Addressing such oversights are crucial, since as Aptel and Ladisch (2011, p. 4) note, “Failure to address the concerns of children and youth can undermine the long-term recovery of transitional or post-conflict societies.” As Berents (2015) documented in her research, Colombian youth engaging in creating everyday peace noted that at times they feel limited or frustrated by not being taken seriously by adults. As one of her participants stated, “many adults . . . think that because a person is small they cannot do many things” (Berents, 2015, p. 198). Another participant, noted feeling similarly, saying, “I think that adults think we don’t have the ability to fix things, or be organized, and many say ‘how are you going to help fix this problem? You aren’t old enough’” (Berents, 2015, p. 198). On the contrary, the young woman countered that “many times we have the same mentality as adults, we have a good ability to think and plan” (Berents, 2015, p. 198). Despite all the marginalization and barriers they have faced, it is clear that many young people, including children, have a significant history of active involvement in peacebuilding in Colombia. Consider, for example, Colombia’s Movement of Children for Peace. Beginning in the 1990s, this movement used creative arts as a means for creating a culture of peace (Botero & Zacipa, 2001). In 1996, with support from UNICEF, 2.7 million Colombian children voted in the election for the Children’s Mandate for Peace and Rights, which included 12 rights, such as the right to peace, and also established peace zones in parks and schools. In recognition of its achievements, the Movement received a Nobel Peace Prize nomination (Cameron, 2001).

Young people moving toward peace: Learning from a dance-based peacebuilding program Having provided this contextual background, in this section I report on a case study involving an NGO using dance and creative movement to support youth peacebuilding in Colombia. This organization, while founded in Colombia, now also works in a number of other countries affected by various types of violence and conflict. I used participant observation and semi-structured interviews with peer leaders in the program to gather data in order to better understand young people’s 332

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roles in peacebuilding and how dance might facilitate that. I conducted some interviews myself, while others were supported or conducted and translated by a research assistant, a local Colombian university student. Ten interviews (7 female, 3 male) were conducted in Colombia with participants ranging from ages 21 to 32. All had university qualifications and thus represent a fairly privileged subset of Colombian youth, though their work engages with young people from across various socioeconomic groups. Participant statements indicated that “dance can be useful in engaging youth in peacebuilding but that it must be applied in sensitive, reflexive and culturally relevant ways to appeal to and include both young men and young women” (Pruitt, 2015, p. 13). Here, I analyze some of the main concepts identified in working with these youth peacebuilders in Colombia. In doing so, I reflect on broader prospects for youth peacebuilding and for the utility of applying dance as a tool in peacebuilding programs. How, if at all, did dance function as a useful way for youth to take part in peacebuilding? All participants articulated one or more ways dance had been useful in this context. Some noted, for example, that dance could serve as a nonviolent means of communication and a way to connect with one’s feelings in a peace education context. Moreover, dance was seen as something that is culturally relevant and familiar, thus many youth could relate to it, and it was also something that did not require lots of expensive equipment or training. At the same time, dance was also seen as a way to release and reduce stress, an important aspect of recovering from violence already witnessed or experienced. Of course, participants also noted a variety of limitations to what dance could do and how, including pointing to how short-term funding cycles, which are common across global peacebuilding initiatives, can at times mean short-sighted programs. They also noted that, without attention to access and inclusion, efforts to engage youth in dance and creative movement for peacebuilding might overlook the needs of people with disabilities or people who speak a different language from the one deployed in the dance programs, such as Indigenous youth in Colombia. With these points in mind, one young woman participant articulated her view that, to be effective, dance for peacebuilding needs to be understood as part of a broader, integrated platform of peacebuilding: I think that [dance-based peacebuilding programs] can’t change a context, I think in order for some action be effective, it needs to be accompanied by other actions like policies, and actions in schools, in families, [and] in communities. Despite these contextual limits and the previously noted marginalizing attitudes held by many adults, Colombian youth reported feeling that through their work in dance and peacebuilding they could contribute to change in their communities, Colombia, and the world more broadly. Likewise, as one participant put it: You start from the smallest thing, if I can start from my family, from then on, all things around me would change; I feel a program like [this] would do much to change my community . . . it is a slow process that would take time, but [this dance peacebuilding project] plus many other projects that are being proposed in Colombia could change more than just Colombia, because violence is not just guerrillas, but I feel that in all countries there are all kinds of violence. Also, I think [this dance peacebuilding program] helps you see not only school harassment which is their main focus, but also violence in general; in the family unit, in schools, and your city, so I think it could change things. 333

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This participant’s comment points to how youth involvement may be able to bridge perceived local/global divides. Likewise, the experience of youth may point to the need for us to rethink these terms altogether. After all, youth can blur the boundaries of understandings of local and global and point us to the need for critical reflection on how the two overlap and intersect. In this dance-based peacebuilding program, which was developed by a foreigner living temporarily in Colombia and then scaled out to other global contexts, participants noted the need for the now global program to be tailored to local needs and to account for the local cultural context. As one of them noted: The curriculum that I knew was a very gringo curriculum . . . I think . . . that every curriculum should be worked on and built with the community in which you are working. I think it is something crazy to bring a [program] from elsewhere to implement in a community that has its dynamics and how they see, think and feel differently from elsewhere . . . I think we should include all these factors . . . [in] our country there is much impunity, in our country there are issues very, very important and relevant that people should know. Likewise, another participant explained that, Right now . . . we were modifying or reviewing . . . curriculum, before going to Cuba, we realized that is very important to have a general curriculum, but also you need to generate contextualized curriculums, [by which I mean to] refer to a specific culture and ages or generations. Overall, young people have played important roles and been significant stakeholders across all aspects of the Colombian conflict, and they have played and will continue to play key roles in working to build peace. To that end, dance and creative movement have provided one avenue for pursuing that goal. As one creative approach among many, it can offer engaging ways to create and share nonviolent communications for peace. At the same time, as with other peacebuilding efforts, dance cannot be divorced from its social context or be expected to address broader questions of conflict if these questions are not engaged through the peacebuilding programs that use dance. With this in mind, the young people interviewed in this project also suggest the need to pause to reflect on important questions around the local and global and how young people experience this intersection.

Conclusion In summary, children and youth play a variety of key roles when it comes to peace and conflict. They can be peacebuilders, perpetrators of violence, and/or victim-survivors of such violence. They may take on various combinations of these roles over time. Given their significant proportion of the population and the ways they both participate in and are affected by conflict and peacebuilding, young people are key stakeholders in peacebuilding. By looking at a case study from Colombia, this chapter demonstrates a contextualized example of one of many cases in which young people take on such diverse roles, and despite challenges make important contributions, both to building peace and to informing and speaking back to key theories and concepts in peacebuilding. 334

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Lesley J. Pruitt Pruitt, L. (2014). The women, peace and security agenda: Australia and the agency of girls. Australian Journal of Political Science, 49(3), 486–98. Pruitt, L. (2015). Gendering the study of children and youth in peacebuilding. Peacebuilding, 3(2), 157–70. Sanford, V. (2003). Peacebuilding in a war zone: The case of Colombian peace communities. International Peacekeeping, 10(2), 107–18. Sanford, V. (2006). The moral imagination of survival: Displacement and child soldiers in Guatemala and Colombia. In S. McEvoy-Levy (Ed.), Troublemakers or Peacemakers? Youth and Post-Accord Peace Building (pp. 49–80). Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press. Schirch, L. (2004). The Little Book of Strategic Peacebuilding. Intercourse, PA: Good Books. Schwartz, S. (2010). Youth and Post-Conflict Reconstruction: Agents of Change. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press. Sjoberg, L. (2014). Gender, War, and Conflict. Cambridge, MA: Polity Press. Solnit, R. (2016). Hope in the Dark: Untold Histories of Wild Possibilities. Edinburgh, UK: Canongate. Sommers, M. (2011). Governance, security and culture: Assessing Africa’s youth bulge. International Journal of Conflict and Violence, 5(2), 292–303. Turner, R. (2015). Youth, “tradition” and peace building: Mobilizing for just governance in rural South Africa. Peacebuilding, 3(2), 126–40. United Nations (2012). Report of the Secretary-General on Children and Armed Conflict in Colombia. New York: United Nations. United Nations Development Program (UNDP) (2014). UNDP Youth Strategy 2014-2017: Empowered Youth, Sustainable Future, New York: United Nations. United Nations Office of the Secretary-General’s Envoy on Youth (2016). #YouthStats: Armed Conflict. New York: United Nations. www.un.org/youthenvoy/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/ YouthStatsArmedconflictpdf2.pdf Watchlist on Children and Armed Conflict (2012). No One to Trust: Children and Armed Conflict in Colombia. New York: Author. Watson, A. (2008). Can there be a "kindered" peace? Ethics and International Affairs, 22(1), 35–42. Yousafzai, M. (2013). Malala’s Speech. United Nations. July. www.un.org/News/dh/infocus/malala_ speach.pdf Zelizer, C., & Rubinstein, R. (Eds.) (2009). Building Peace: Practical Reflections from the Field. Sterling, VA: Kumarian Press.

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28 JOINT CIVIL–MILITARY INTERACTION A unity-of-aim method for peacebuilding Thomas Matyók and Sven Stauder Those engaged in stability activities are obliged to work in a world of persistent conflict. Today’s peacebuilders face complex and complicated problems. No single individual or group has a monopoly on the knowledge, skills, and abilities necessary for success in conflict-affected environments. There is enough peacebuilding work for everyone. And, in a world of persistent conflict, stability must be the immediate goal. Stability operations, however, can be chaotic and uncoordinated as numerous actors operate independently in pursuing multiple agendas. A new way ahead is needed, and Civil Affairs (CA) organizations are well positioned to lead nextgeneration peace and stability operations. The stability literature is clear, civil affairs operations are crucial to establishing stable post-conflict environments (Geisinger, 2017). Military CA is at the tip of the spear. As the conditions of conflict, combat, and confrontation change (Smith, 2008), military responses are obliged to keep pace. Education and training on the changing nature of conflict and war are paramount for success in the field (Antilla, 2013). Our understanding of how war was conducted is “increasingly useless” in coming to grips with how conflicts are evolving today (Ramo, 2009, p. 99). Hybrid, new-generation war is the rule. The employment of military force as a way of practicing diplomacy and advancing state policy is now a matter of course. A bright-line separating civil and military seems an antiquated notion, making the limited awareness among peacekeepers of the military as a peacebuilding organization an actual threat to stability (Talerud, 2013). Today’s military needs more than competence in offensive and defensive operations. Combat and contact skills are necessary (Antilla, 2013). Facility in working with populations is taking on an ever-greater significance for those engaged in military operations (Annen & Nakkas, 2013). Civil society, military, government, and academic actors must possess political competency – the ability to engage successfully in negotiating, mediating, and facilitating between the many individuals and organizations that populate a conflict or humanitarian crisis environment. Civil– military (Civ–Mil) interaction is essential for moving governments and societies from unstable to stable, irrespective of how they got that way. Civil–military interaction (CMI) is the set of activities that operationalizes CA strategy. Throughout this chapter we view conflict as the social activity that drives change. We posit that when conflict is not managed appropriately, it can turn violent. We advocate for conflict management rather than conflict resolution as a guiding principle. Conflict resolution often suggests what it cannot deliver, an end to social struggle. Our experience suggests conflicts remain 337

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intact, moving between manifest and latent. Manifest conflicts are those we can see and act upon while latent conflicts simmer below the surface waiting to be animated by human actors. To paraphrase Soeters (2005), wars end, but conflicts do not. Conflicts need time, and an understanding of the underlying dynamics, inherently local, thus interaction with regional entities is inevitable. While conflict is ever-present, the types of combat are changing. For example, large-scale combat is becoming increasingly unlikely (Smith, 2008), and small wars are now dominant (Weichong & Chong, 2013). The days of massed armies meeting on a geographically bounded battlefield are now relegated to the history books. The great wars, such as those of the 20th century, are unlikely future possibilities; rather, Iraq is the model of coming conflicts (Tuck, 2016). Future conflicts among the great powers will be “asymmetric” (Kaplan, 2013, p. 112). War is today characterized as among the people. The modern battlefield encompasses all of society. Influence is pointedly more important than force (Smith, 2008). The very way we speak about war has changed (Curtenaz, 2008). War as politics by other means, shifting between war and not-war, has morphed to war as a permanent condition. The kill-and-break-things approach to dealing with conflict fails to attend to the changed circumstances of global antagonisms. The world has entered a period defined by conflict without conclusion. Non-state actors engage in violence as a form of identification. Without a state, there are no national goals to pursue. Belligerents are often invested in continuing conflicts in order to maintain “legitimacy, power, and profit” (Foot, 2013, p. 198). Modern conflicts occur within closed systems where identity and power can be viewed as zero-sum. Ideas of expanding the zero-sum system that conflicts create, bringing in more winners, may be little more than wishful thinking. So, our only option for achieving peace is to reevaluate how peacebuilders operate within this system. As globalization leads to more contacts, and every action triggers several reactions in systems (Jervis, 1997), cooperation and conflict among actors becomes increasingly possible (Kaplan, 2013).

The great unraveling World War I began the great unraveling of the Westphalia state system that had remained in place since 1648 (Ullman, 2014). The devolution that began in 1914 was intensified on September 11, 2001 and finds contemporary peak in the discussion on cyber-attacks that has already an impact on state relations and systems of governance. In a comparative brief span of time, all we understood about conflict came into question. Civil and military leaders now find themselves without the tools to lead in a world where states have lost their dominant position in stability operations and peacebuilding. Simply, they “matter less” (Ramo, 2009, p. 16). While rational actor problemsolving models assume reason guides actors’ actions, this Western logic fails when it bumps up against non-rational actors (Tuck, 2016). This creates a need for new ways of thinking, to go beyond surface responses to complex problems, and engage problemsolving work as a non-static, fluid activity. Compartmental responses suggest conflicts can be deconstructed, resolutions can be applied to disconnected pieces, and the whole thing can be put back together again. This Humpty-Dumpty approach misses the systems-nature of conflict where it is not possible to intervene in one part of a system without impacting all other aspects of it (Jervis, 1997). This failure is evidenced in how phased, transitional interventions inform military thinking. Transitional thinking creates an artificial environment where conflict is addressed compartmentally. When an intervention is complete, some form of transition occurs. One example is the area of transitional public security actions that focus on policing. In a military operation, 338

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general military forces are used to establish an initial safe and secure environment. Once established, policing is transitioned to military police, and then to the host nation (HN). This fragmented, light-switch method fails to acknowledge the need for integrated, seamless responses. More appropriate is discussion of flow. Flow is the continuous integration of all actors moving in an agreed upon direction. Desired are fluid conflict management and resolution methods (Mendoza & Matyok, 2012) that embrace the chaos in a unity-of-aim, self-organizing, systems approach to peacebuilding. Presently, only 20 percent of military activities involve combat operations; 80 percent of operations are now focused on working in the political sphere (Gezari, 2013). Soldiers are spending increasing amounts of time interacting with local populations in non-kinetic engagements (Davidson, 2009; Gezari, 2013). A narrow focus on offensive and defensive warfighting fails to appreciate how conflict has transformed. War amongst the people mobilizes all of society. Culture is the new Fulda Gap – the strategic corridor in Cold War Germany of crucial relevance to all parties (Weiner, 2013). Failure to understand the cultural nuances of those within the operational environment can have devastating consequences. Operations in Afghanistan demonstrate how soldiers’ lack of education and training in cultural specifics contributes to failure in the operational area. Lack of peacetime training and education has resulted in a CA force that is unprepared at the outset of conflict and is obliged to play catch-up in order to meet the demands placed on it for building civil society and moving a conflict affected society to stability (Geisinger, 2017). Needed is more than classroom approaches. Exercises and role-plays are essential for learning the “situational skills” and “practical competence” (Antilla, 2013, p. 174) necessary for managing crosscultural coalitions and collaborations (Foot, 2013). Moving beyond a surface understanding requires an awareness of all aspects of a conflict as well as those elements of peace that are present. It is essential for the drivers and agents of conflict and peace to be analyzed together. Far too often, the military, writ large, is viewed as engaging exclusively in kinetic operations, and avoided by civil society peacebuilders. Veterans who in the past populated civil society after service in the military, and who could provide insights into how the services function, are a shrinking population in the United States (US) (Mattis & Schake, 2016). The declining number of people with military experience leaves a gap in the Civ–Mil narrative. Complicating the shrinking body of experience is the recognition that many in the West are uninterested in the uses of military force (Smith, 2008). Those with little knowledge of the modern military are hard pressed to make effective use of it and with little regard for its peacebuilding potential, humanitarian assistance, and disaster response operations. That kinetic engagements produce more exciting pictures for the media, while illustrations of military peacebuilding are less explosive, is just another aspect of the issue at hand. After a long absence, CA is actively working to reclaim its seat at the peacebuilding table. Following World War II, CA assumed a primary role in the reconstruction of Europe, where reestablishing civil society was paramount. Irrespective of its lead role in the successful implementation of the Marshall Plan, CA has not always been recognized as a major player in military operations. By some, CA is viewed as a function that is enacted after the work is done. To paraphrase a former US Army Chief-of-Staff, real men do not do civil affairs. After all, militaries are needed to fight wars, not build peace. The US Army’s Field Manual 1 clearly states that the role of army is to “fight and win the Nation’s wars” (2005, p. 1). Post-World War II saw a “mobilization of large numbers of academics and professionals” who served as advisors to the military in support for governance (Geisinger, 2017, p. 49). This ability no longer exists, leaving CA in the spotlight. But CA has proven unable to communicate 339

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its importance, with CA operators spending large amounts of time talking to each other, and not to the others. Additionally, the civil component is increasingly absent from the Civ–Mil narrative, which is critical to building long-term stability in post-conflict environments. Arguably, many in the military view civil as the HN and something to be acted upon, not engaged with as a partner. Others understand civil to mean government agencies. And the civil component is not free of obstacles either, with a “lack of common purpose . . . tensions between different agents of government . . . cultures . . . superficial understanding of the military perspective . . . power asymmetries” (Talerud, 2013, p. 250). Changing antagonisms require changed responses. We can expect future conflicts to be more complex, and dangerous than those faced in the past (Joint Chiefs of Staff, 2016). Conflicts without conclusion are now the norm (Huhtinen, 2013). Moving away from greed and grievance (Collier & Hoeffler, 2004) thinking which had provided the foundation for the bulk of conflict resolution interventions, we now recognize an increasing number of conflicts as identity-based with an existential nature. Intra-state conflicts are the new standard. The burgeoning number of wicked problems requires holistic answers. Whole-of-government responses to conflict resolution are inadequate. Needed today are whole-of-society approaches. Wicked problems are those that actively push back against management and resolution. All attempts to solve a problem quickly become new problems. It is noted how possibly the most wicked problem of all is defining a wicked problem (Rittel & Webber, 1973). The complexity of modern non-linear systems resists being controlled and managed. A system never becomes simpler (Ramo, 2009). No single actor or organization, operating at one single level, is suitable for what is needed in confronting wicked problems. Multi-dimensional approaches are necessary. It is agreed that military-centric approaches are inadequate to confront the types of complex operations the international community now faces (Foot, 2013). Integrated Civ–Mil activities are needed at all conflict levels (Talerud, 2013); interpersonal, community, national, and regional simultaneously.

A new civil–military paradigm We propose that fragmented approaches to peacebuilding and conflict resolution are destructive and can hold conflicts intact. Necessary is an agreed upon Unity-of-Aim approach to peacebuilding and conflict management. We approach conflict by asking, how can it be moved to a better condition? As a subject of peace and conflict studies (PACS) scholarship and practice, CMI is understudied and undertheorized. PACS proper place is at the forefront of CMI research and teaching. Peace scholars should take a lead role in speaking to the full integration of society in addressing violent conflict. The terms Civil–Military and Civ–Mil are commonly employed with little regard for what they communicate. They have become catch-all terms for actions that occur within an often ill-defined civil–military space. There is presently no agreed upon universal definition of civil–military operations (Talerud, 2013). Civ–Mil is more a conversation than a complete idea, just as stability operations, in general, are more a dialogue than a theory (Tuck, 2016). Whatever Civ–Mil is, or becomes, it speaks to the human dimension (Annen & Nakklas, 2013) of conflict. The term human dimension is contested as well. Terms such as human terrain and human geography are used to address the human presence in conflict. Each term is loaded down with its own baggage that needs to be unpacked. We have settled on human dimension as the most useful term for our work, recognizing how interactions among human actors within a 340

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Military

Civil JCMI

Government

Academia

Figure 28.1  Joint civil–military interaction components

defined operational environment influence decisions and the decisionmaking processes (Joint Chiefs of Staff, 2016). Civil–military interaction is a concept originally found in NATO, and is based on: Addressing crisis situations calls for a comprehensive approach combining political, civilian and military instruments. . . . Military means, although essential, are not enough on their own to meet the many complex challenges to our security. The effective implementation of a comprehensive approach to crisis situations requires nations, international organisations and non-governmental organisations to contribute in a concerted effort. (NATO, 2014, p. 1) As the comprehensive approach received criticism (see e.g., Cornish & Glad, 2008), we suggest joint civil–military (JCMI) as an extension of CMI, including all elements of the peacebuilding, humanitarian assistance, and disaster response quadrant. It is a comprehensive, Unity-of-Aim approach to peace operations. The term joint is used here to communicate the vertical and horizontal integration of all elements of society addressing a conflict. The JCMI quadrant consists of organizations and actors representing civil society, military, government, and academia, aiming to include all elements of society. The US Army’s checklist approach to stabilization works against the creativity and ingenuity needed in addressing persistent conflicts (Tuck, 2016). Desire on the part of conflict workers for a universal analysis and intervention template is little more than a search for the Holy Grail. JCMI is proposed as a way of moving beyond compartmental approaches to peace operations that fail to address the complexity of modern conflict and preparing actors to “experience the unexpected” (Mälkki & Mälkki, 2013) in a holistic and systemic network context.

Historical context Civ–Mil is anchored in notions of democracy and civilian control of the military, going back to the art of war, addressing the need for military and non-state actors to join in interacting with indigenous populations. Clausewitz (1984), the leading Western military thinker, views all that 341

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is not warfighting as part of civil society, thereby, establishing a civil–military discourse. In this chapter we look specifically at the outside relations of military activities with civil society, government, and academic actors in a joint operational environment. It is not within the scope of this chapter to discuss relations within the military vis-à-vis civil society: for such discussions see seminal works of Huntington (1957), Janowitz (1960), and Cohen (2003). These formative Civ–Mil texts remain mostly concerned with the military, the state they serve, and its role in the setting of the Cold War. Feaver (2003) updates Huntington’s argument through the use of Principal-Agent theory. Consistent throughout the literature regarding civil–military relations is a concern with the internal relationships of the military and society, questions of control, friction, and influence (for e.g., see Feaver, 1999; Feaver & Kohn, 2001; Mattis & Schake, 2016). Civ–Mil creates a false dichotomy from the beginning by binary thinking, which is rarely helpful in dealing with complexity, by suggesting that what is not in one dimension must of necessity be in another; there is no gray area. This limited view of Civ–Mil relations ignores the complexities of modern conflicts. Cooperation and collaboration are needed in tackling current conflicts. The end result of all JCMI efforts is developing reinforcing systems built on trust (LaRose-Edwards, 2008). The external aspect of Civ–Mil that we are focusing on is historically dominated by counterinsurgency (COIN) thinkers, who suffered from focusing on defeating semi-militarized insurgents in their local environments, rather than the HNs civil population, as, for example, in the Vietnam war (Davidson, 2009). Today, as Rubinstein’s (2008) analysis of UN peacekeeping missions showed, the aim lies beyond maintaining force but includes a contribution to political, cultural, and economic statebuilding and development, which holds true for any military deployment (think Afghanistan and Iraq). Thus, “an integrated civilian-military effort” paired with unity-of-command and “four lines of operations – combat operations, the provision of essential services to the population, the training and equipping of host nation security forces, and the strengthening of the economy and government of the host state” (p. 4) as suggested by Davidson (2009) should be the norm. Seeing COIN through this new lens allows discussions on state building, governance, and civil–military cooperation; however modern conflicts can be lost before the first round is fired, thus JCMI goes further than existing approaches to Civ–Mil or civil–military cooperation by asking parties to work together before deployments, creating network structures that enable active pre-deployment participation of all conflict actors. An example of this can be found in the US government’s counter-insurgency guide (2009), which saw a broader authorship than the US Army Field Manual 3-24, but still did not incorporate all essential actors (Davidson, 2009). It is commonly noted that trust cannot be surged. Thus, creating intensive joint pre-deployment education and training that brings all conflict actors together is one way to build the trust needed among actors to succeed. With this approach we hope to facilitate joint success during peace operations. The goal is not only the elimination of an enemy; rather, it is about securing populations to advance human security (Anderson, 2014). This can only be accomplished through the comprehensive interaction of all actors, including the HN. JCMI emphasizes moving all elements of the quadrants to become Learning Organizations (Senge, 2006). US Army/Marine Field Manual 3-24 (2006) notes asymmetric conflicts cannot be won on the battlefield, only through engagement with populations. This speaks to the need for separating conflicts from confrontations (Smith, 2008). JCMI offers a structure through which civil society, the military, governmental and quasi-governmental organizations, as well as academia, can work together learning from and about each other, the conflict, and joint ways ahead. This clearly indicates the need for modern peacekeeping missions to enhance internal capacities for stronger interaction with civilian actors, international and local. 342

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Rubinstein’s (2008) analysis of contemporary UN missions took this point even further, by arguing that it is becoming essential to differentiate between a fighting force and a building force, each with a different message towards the HN. This is the notion behind the European Union’s idea of a Human Security Response Force (Antilla, 2013, p. 174). Essential is a new approach to professional peacebuilding education and practice (Matyók, 2017). Liquid approaches to knowing and acting are desirable (Mendoza & Matyók, 2012). Liquid knowing speaks to the transformational aspects of learning. When individuals and groups come together to address joint problems, of necessity, cross-cultural learning occurs. Just as when liquids flow into each other; once combined, the liquids cannot be separated. To understand human interactions, it is necessary to analyze the physical, social, emotional, political, economic, informational, and cultural dimensions of society through temporal lenses (Joint Chiefs of Staff, 2016). It is about seeking complexity (Matyók et al., 2014). This is JCMI’s approach to advancing learning organizations within peacebuilding and conflict transformation.

A new civil–military interaction One step forward is the Joint Civil–Military Interaction Research and Education Network JCMI provides intellectual space for all Civ–Mil quadrant actors to join together in investigating and advancing JCMI principles in an all-inclusive way. The JCMI network provides a case study of how civil and military actors jointly identified a need, and then self-organized to address that need. Those responsible for creating the JCMI structure identified a set of five core activities to guide the organization’s development: 1 2 3 4 5

Advocating Unity-of-Aim responses to conflicts and humanitarian disasters. Facilitating Whole-of-Society approaches to peacebuilding. Developing conflict management methodologies. Extending cross-cultural communication skills. Providing space for pre-conflict relationships.

Unity-of-Aim Unity-of-Aim speaks to the need for conflict workers to embrace complexity and avoid efforts to impose order on a substantively chaotic environment. Unity-of-Aim is open to a selforganizing, systems approach to conflict work. Unity-of-Aim recognizes the independence of all actors in the operational environment and works on the principle of agreement to a Grand Strategy.

Whole-of-Society efforts Whole-of-Society (WoS) speaks to the need for integrating all aspects of society in peacebuilding and conflict management strategies and interventions. Approaches that focus myopically on Whole-of-Government (WoG) tactics assume a prescriptive approach to peace operations instead of an elicitive one (Lederach, 1996). Following a prescriptive model, WoG strategies can exclude or marginalize non-military actors in the relevant community as well as the HN. As noted before, a broader approach to stability and peace operations is required by the US government (Eastman, 2012). 343

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Conflict management It is about successfully managing conflicts. Terms used in the PACS field of study and practice remain contested. The idea of conflict resolution resonates with many as it suggests the ability to eliminate conflicts. This is a wonderful objective; however, experience suggests conflict resolution is rarely achieved. History never ends, and conflicts tend to remain intact. Here it is important to note that conflicts are more than disputes. A dispute can be addressed and very often resolved, a conflict is more complex and includes elements of the social cube analytical framework (Byrne et al., 2002; Matyók et al., 2014), which addresses multiple dimensions of conflict. These dimensions of conflict are assessed and analyzed within time and space. Conflict management is about controlling the levels of cultural, structural, and direct violence (Galtung, 2015) embedded in the social milieu as outlined by the Social Cube.

Cross-cultural communication Cross-cultural communication includes organizational as well as indigenous cultural literacies. Peacebuilders are obliged to develop and maintain competence in dealing with multiple actors, recognizing all have unique organizational cultures and lexicons. Often culture is believed to be something those in the HN possess. It is treated as an object to be studied and understood, rarely as something within which multiple actors participate. Peacebuilders do not stand outside of the cultures with which they interact; they influence and become part of the culture. As a result, cultural competency is required at all levels.

Pre-conflict relationships Joint civil–military interaction is an emerging field of study and practice that addresses the shortfalls of current Civ–Mil thinking. JCMI is a theory-informed and oriented on a holistic understanding of Civ–Mil activities in pursuing national goals and objectives. To advance Civ–Mil activities, the JCMI Quadrant is engaged.

Civil society The civil-society component of the quadrant is made up of non-governmental organizations (NGO), international organizations (IO), not-for-profit organizations, religious activities, HN, and other civil actors located within an operational environment. Essentially, those organizations not connected to the military, government, or academia are characterized by JCMI as civil–society capacity-building actors. Civil-society actors move beyond the narrow boundaries established by organizational vision and mission statements. Although civil-society actors possess expertise, and specific organizational agendas, they are key actors in WoS approaches to peacebuilding. It is important to note how this sector has a large quantity of new actors, considering that 90 percent of all NGOs currently operating on the world stage came into existence over the past ten years (Ramo, 2009).

Military Military actors are uniformed representatives of recognized governments. It is paramount that military actors writ large, and CA soldiers and leaders specifically, learn how to successfully interact with non-military actors (Geisinger, 2017). 344

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Government Government actors represent interagency, contractors, and quasi-governmental organizations.

Academia Colleges, universities, and think tanks make up the academia quadrant. Interviews with Civ– Mil leaders in the military strongly suggest that academia is absent from the Civ–Mil conversation. This observation is further supported by research in the CA field (Geisinger, 2017, p. 50). Much of the ongoing work advancing the Civ–Mil narrative is being done by military and government actors (USIP, 2009). Academia has abrogated responsibility for conducting research regarding Civ–Mil interaction and advancing scholarship in the field.

JCMI case study In summer 2016, individuals representing several peacebuilding fields of study and practice came together in Ulm, Germany, to discuss development of an organization designed to address the need for integrating all major actors in a peace operation. Four operational goals of JCMI were identified: 1 2 3 4

Establish and strengthen partnerships among JCMI actors. Build international collaboration. Inform and educate policymakers regarding JCMI. Promote public policy initiatives that advance JCMI within peacekeeping and humanitarian response communities.

The discussions animating the idea of the network were centered on the need to include civil society in military responses to conflict as well as humanitarian assistance and disaster response operations, i.e., to put the Civ back into Civ–Mil. The initial objective of JCMI was to conduct an annual key leader symposium that would provide a space for representatives of civil society, the military, government, and academia to come together to investigate Civ–Mil questions. In November 2016, the network initiated its first symposium addressing ways of Advancing Health through Civil–Military Interaction. The symposium was conducted following a Walk-in-the-Woods format where time and space were provided for participants to explore ways of collaborating across organizational and cultural boundaries. This approach was a step forward in developing pre-conflict relationships among actors that could then be carried into operations. Participants spoke to the necessity for identifying strategies which meet needs within the Civ–Mil universe. Several speakers made clear that the problems of Civ–Mil are well known, and what is needed is a focus on identifying solutions to the Civ–Mil issues. A direct outcome of the symposium was recognition of the need for professional education focused on building cross-cultural competency among actors in each component of the JCMI quadrant. This was seen by participants as an important step forward in building a sense of common purpose among all actors. This ties back to a question asked in Military Review about whether there is room for peace studies in a future-centered war-fighting curriculum (Matyók & Schmitz, 2014)? The article suggested the PACS discipline of study and practice could be used to provide soldiers with peacebuilding skills such as mediation, negotiation, and facilitation: skills that could be used within the military as well as in coordinating with outside 345

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activities. These contact skills are critical for soldiers operating in kinetic and non-kinetic environments. Joint civil–military interaction is finding a home in PACS. Relationships between the department and military organizations are expanding. Cross-institutional and international relationships are developing. JCMI appears a natural fit for PACS.

Principles of JCMI The strategic goal of JCMI is to prepare conflict workers to operate effectively within an environment of persistent conflict. Civil society, military, government, and academic conflict professionals following a JCMI approach will be comfortable and competent in multiple conflict environments, able to understand, manage, and mitigate the effects of ongoing conflicts through effective interactions across a wide spectrum of actors. The principles are captured in the Five Ps of JCMI: 1 Professional. Conflict work requires educated and trained professionals. Peacebuilding is not for amateurs. Joint approaches to Civ–Mil interaction necessitates knowledgeable and capable actors able to function in demanding field environments. Civ–Mil is theory informed practice. 2 Pragmatic. Successful conflict work is based on conflict workers’ ability to translate theory into practice to achieve sustainable outcomes. And, to use lessons learned in the field to refine theory. Conflict workers think sensibly and realistically. 3 Personal. JCMI is advanced through tailored education and training programs that meet contemporary conflict needs and allow individuals to achieve their goals. Emphasis is on the interpersonal and human dimensions of conflict in designing and implementing successful conflict management programs. 4 Profound. As an approach to conflict management, JCMI provides a foundation and structure for life-long learning regarding conflict and its management. Professional development and higher education opportunities, along with networking opportunities, are advanced through JCMI. 5 Productive. JCMI makes a marked difference in the structure of conflict through education and training in conflict assessment, prevention, management, and transformation. A step further – not just naming the issues but actively trying to proceed.

Conclusion A culture change is required to meet the demands placed on Civ–Mil actors resulting from changing antagonisms. Post-Cold War doctrine that seeks to address modern conflicts should be more than a patchwork of adjustments to Cold War approaches. Bold thinking is essential. Our inability to properly integrate civil society and the military in peace operations is a failure of imagination and creativity. Space is needed where Civ–Mil actors can engage interdependently to recognize their need for holistic, integrated responses to conflict (Foot, 2013). Joint civilian–military integration is the way forward in conducting Unity-of-Aim peace operations. Civil society, military, government, and academia are obliged to conduct pre-conflict exercises as a way of developing interpersonal and interorganizational relationships, a joint lexicon, and a common set of values. With JCMI, control in the operational environment is achieved indirectly and through influence, not command. 346

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Disclaimer Opinions, conclusions, and recommendations expressed or implied are solely those of the author and do not necessarily represent the official policy or views of the Air University, Air War College, the United States Air Force, the Department of Defense, or any other US government agency.

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29 THE PARADOX OF COMPLEXITY IN PEACE AND CONFLICT STUDIES Indigenous culture, identity, and peacebuilding Paul Nicolas Cormier Introduction Pain, violence, suffering, war, and peace all come loaded with historical and cultural context. Conflict is the term typically used to describe the various degrees of violence presented in the popular media, and the international response, although various degrees of destructiveness and intractability exist. The international war narrative drives modern peacebuilding activities and results in the neglect of populations who live in post-war violence due to the belief that, if there is no war, then violence has stopped. However, this type of thinking neglects the many displaced peoples around the world who live in so-called post-war states. Galtung (1990) cautions, “war is only one particular form of orchestrated violence, usually with at least one actor, a government” (p. 293). I assert that Canada, as a colonial country, reflects many of the same characteristics of post-war states in relation to its Indigenous population, exacting human, social, and economic costs often equated with underdevelopment. The concept of structural violence,1 introduced as a theoretical frame by Johan Galtung (1969), is critical in understanding this type of post-war violence. Countries like Canada offer contemporary examples of the pain and suffering present in colonial states that displaced Indigenous peoples generations ago. These examples display characteristics of the new security dilemma within the international community exemplified by terrorism or failed/failing states that transcend contemporary international structures of nation-states. We seem to forget that the organization known as the international political theatre grew around Indigenous nations. This dynamic remains a key driver in the way Canadians and Indigenous peoples view themselves as discussed by James Daschuk (2013, p. 186): While Canadians see themselves as world leaders in social welfare, health care, and economic development, most reserves in Canada are economic backwaters with little prospect of material advancement and more in common with the third world than the rest of Canada. Even basics such as clean drinking water remain elusive for some communities. 349

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The destruction of traditional homelands is the destruction of Indigenous peoples because they remain culturally and materially dependent on a healthy environment. Human security, as defined by the United Nations (UN), does not provide peace for Indigenous peoples as it comes loaded with cultural significance based largely on Western conceptions of governance and societal structures. This definition neglects local definitions of peace because peace, as with violence, is culturally constructed (Cormier, 2014). In Aboriginal contexts (the Indigenous peoples of Canada), the peace culture is found within traditional, land-based life ways and Indigenous identity is critically linked to continued traditional practices. Culture, Avruch (2008, 2010) suggested, is socially distributed across a population and psychologically distributed within individuals across a population “enabling members of a single human community to get along with one another and their surrounding environment through a shared set of habits of action” (Rorty, 1998, p. 188). Thus, Robertson (1988) argues, “culture consists of the shared products of society; society consists of the interacting people who share culture” (p. 55). The guidelines society gives to its members on what is considered acceptable behavior are norms. Norms are so important to the structure of society that we create institutions around them to maintain orderly, enduring mechanisms for ensuring greater uniformity of behavior in the broad interests of society (Hiller, 1991). The institutions created to perpetuate norms in the broad interest of Canadian society have created a culture of violence within the Canadian population towards Aboriginal peoples resulting in an identity dilemma having profound impact on the health of Canadian Indigenous communities. The basis of this structural violence in Canada lies with differences in worldviews between Aboriginal peoples and European settlers who imported their structures of society as part of the larger colonial project to access Indigenous traditional lands for economic exploitation. This dynamic has been described as ontological violence,2 epistemological tyranny,3 cognitive imperialism,4 or cultural imperialism5 resulting in the violent erasure of a collective identity understood as a “multidimensional process that works through the destruction of the social institutions that maintain collective identity as well as through the physical destruction of human individuals” (Powell & Peristerakis, 2014, p. 70) that has been described as a process of genocide. Peace development is a process of becoming, not a state of being. Thus, the complexity of analyzing conflicts on the world stage becomes a paradoxical dilemma because, as the global village shrinks, the structures that harbor violence towards Indigenous peoples becomes more complex and subtle, hidden from the eyes of most people feeling right and/or, at the least, not unjust. Similarly, beginning with imperialist desires to rule and exploit distant lands, the technology European colonizers employed to facilitate conquest increased the ease with which cultures interfaced around the globe. As technology advances, the obvious example being computer/virtual communication tools such as Twitter, Snapchat, or Facebook, the ease with which culture can be exported around the globe exponentially increases the complexity of conflicts. Analyzing and managing this paradox of complexity in conflict will require consideration not only of the obvious nations within the international theater, but also groups that transcend current international boundaries of nation-states. This chapter discusses Indigenous culture and identity within a conceptual tool I call the Complex Indigenous Conflict System (CICS). The premise of the CICS assumes a paradox of complexity exists within the theater of the international system and that this paradox is critical to consider if we are to understand contemporary conflict. The CICS considers complexity in the world order through an Indigenous worldview embracing change as constant, circles/cycles/patterns, and the internal/external dynamic of peace (Cormier, 2016, p. 240). 350

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The constant of change: Imperial forces, indigenous identity, and colonization It has been suggested that Aboriginal peoples, the Indigenous peoples of Canada, walk in two worlds (Frideres, 2008, p. 321). The first world consists of the contemporary, modern, and technological world of the European colonizer – a world originally forced on the first inhabitants of North America through violent policies of settlement. The second reflects traditional Indigenous land-based life ways that to this day remain the cornerstone of cultural continuity. In fact, scholars have come to a common understanding that the land and one’s relationship with the land define the nation and the parameters of sovereignty, explaining the resulting differences between Indigenous and Western-Eurocentric intellectual traditions (Ladner, 2014, p. 234). As an Anishinabeg, one of the many Indigenous groups of Canada with its own language, culture, and distinct identity, my life experience suggests this assertion to be true. In fact, coming from a small northern community in Ontario (one of the provinces of Canada), growing up off reserve, becoming an academic, a father, a Catholic, and semi-traditional person who grew up on the land, I would argue that I walk in multiple worlds. In Canada, Indigenous peoples are recognized as having unique rights under the constitution. This is based on their special role as individual nations, perceiving the settlement of Canada as a partnership between Indigenous nations and the British crown under historic and contemporary treaties. Aboriginal people – the Indigenous nations of Canada – do not make up a single-minded monolithic entity speaking with one voice. We spring from many different nations and traditions (Frideres, 2008, p. 314). However, the signing of treaties enabled the colonial state to subject Indigenous leaders to direct control by the federal government, and the Indian Act “infers that assimilation means the incorporation of Indigenous persons as individuals into Canadian settler society while terminating the existence of Indigenous peoples as collectives” (Powel & Peristerakis, 2014, p. 79). This archetypal approach to building a national identity remains a critical site for contestation of what it means to be Aboriginal. With colonialism came the structures of European society that remain largely unchanged in contemporary Canada, still being inherently violent towards its Indigenous population (Rahman et al., 2017). As Henderson (2008) asserted, “no ecology, no culture, no people, and psyche remain untarnished with the technology of social control and oppression everywhere” (p. 21). These structures harbor the violence that remains extreme in many Aboriginal communities, and it is these structures that must be understood, reconstructed, and managed if we are to move from a culture of violence to a culture of peace. Peace studies must begin to pursue holism as the framework and process as the primary method suggested by Reardon (1992) because “learning, like life, is an interrelational and holistic process. Thus, methodology cannot be separated from purpose” (p. 402). This suggests that peace, as with conflict and violence, are cultural constructs necessitating consideration for local meanings of peace in intervention design. My research suggests that Indigenous peoples learn from the land, both practically and metaphorically. Sharing narratives about the land, contesting and interpreting those stories are processes of acculturation used to pass cultural knowledge to future generations. Land access and use, I assume, have a much broader meaning in Indigenous contexts including other aspects of the natural environment (land, water, air, earth, spirit). This misunderstanding based on differences in worldview is the root cause of every conflict involving Indigenous people. Conversely, renewed land access and use can facilitate peace if that reconnection is structured with consideration for local ceremony, custom, and ritual. My work assumes Indigenous people have their own processes for peacebuilding, and these processes have existed since time immemorial as reflected in traditional land-based life ways shared through stories. Twisted by the experience of trauma over time, the narrative of peace has slowly transformed into one of violence through 351

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“a complex process of negotiation and renegotiation that is bounded within socio-political economic circumstances” (Mac Ginty, 2012, p. 168) imported to Canada by European colonists.

The trauma identity: Relational patterns and negotiating indigenous identity within the CICS Acknowledging the trauma within one’s family, community, and nation is a personal recognition of the pain that lives on the edge of memory. It is a process of naming the nameless so we may begin to understand the decisions we make, the habits we have formed, and the unseen forces that drive us. My research has allowed me to explore my personal trauma in a way that provides safety to my psyche. By hearing the stories of research participants (my community members), learning theory that provides context to our behaviors, and participating in the spiritual ceremonies of my culture, I have created a personal dialectic to negotiate (or renegotiate) my personal identity in a contemporary context – what Naomi Adelson (2000) called a negotiation (or renegotiation) of Aboriginality. When an ethnic group is traumatized over an extended period, they suffer intergenerational trauma. Brave Heart (as cited in Wadden, 2008) describes intergenerational trauma in Aboriginal contexts as “forced assimilation and cumulative loss across generations involving language, culture and spirituality” (p. 98). It is difficult to deny the patterns of continuous violence across generations that accompanies the North American colonial project, it has left an undeniable scar on the lives of many Aboriginal people becoming a normalized pattern of relationships through generations as defined by Wesley-Esquimaux and Smolewski (1999, p. 2): Intergenerational or multi-generational trauma happens when the effects of trauma are not resolved in one generation. When trauma is ignored and there is no support for dealing with it, the trauma will be passed from one generation to the next. What we learn to see as "normal" when we are children, we pass on to our own children . . . without them even knowing they are doing so. This is the legacy of physical and sexual abuse. Herman (1997) suggests that when traumatized people suffer damage to the basic structures of the self, they lose their trust in themselves, in other people, and in God. Their self-esteem – assaulted by experiences of humiliation, guilt, and helplessness – compromises their capacity for intimacy with intense and contradictory feelings of need and fear. “The ordinary response to atrocities is to banish them from consciousness” she writes, “when the truth is finally recognized, survivors can begin their recovery. But far too often secrecy prevails, and the story of the traumatic event surfaces not as verbal narrative but as symptom” (p. 1). Clearly trauma can destroy identity and the story associated with that trauma can both heal and be passed through generations retraumatizing with every telling (Senehi, 2010). Identities are complex, historically bound, socially constructed, and ever moving. They are constituted in specific lived realities, bound and shared through story, myth, history, and legend. Theory makes a distinction between personal identity and social identity. Personal identity is an individual’s sense of self as an autonomous, unique person while social identity being the facets of one’s self-image that derive from salient group membership (Cook-Huffman, 2010). The retelling of historical stories strengthens the sense of self in relation to family, community, and nation. I do not believe it was coincidence that at one point in my research journey participants wanted to provide their stories with family members present. Validating knowledge among family members demonstrates the strong family ties and reinforces the sense 352

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of personal identity in relation to the family. It can also provide the protection necessary to process traumatic events. Northrup (1989) defines identity as, “an abiding sense of the self and of the relationship of self to the world”. She further states, “identity, defined in this way, is more than a psychological sense of self. It is extended to encompass a sense of self-in-relation-to-the-world – which may be experienced socially as well as psychologically” (p. 55). Cook-Huffman (2010) asserts three key perspectives that shape theorizing about the relationship between self and society. First, social identities are projects whereby individuals come to a narrative sense of self by creating an integrated whole of their past, present, and future. Identities are symbols of meanings created from social interactions. Second, identity is constructed within specific relationships and in a particular time and place and considers the importance of social comparison in this process. Third, identities become salient for individuals and collectives based on time and place. These theories explore when and how particular identities become meaningful, how people manage the intersection of a number of potentially salient identities, and how individuals negotiate the borders and boundaries of identity categories. (p. 20) The most violent act ever perpetrated on Indigenous peoples was to convince us that somehow we were less than the settlers, or we were savage. This is the primary concern of ontological violence or cognitive imperialism – to convince the colonized that our ways of living and being are somehow inferior. The internalization of this idea for Aboriginal people is the legacy of settlement. Indigenous people know, in fact, we have always known how to heal ourselves and bring ourselves back to balance. My experiences with ceremony clearly reflect this ability and a growing body of research exists suggesting this assertion (Adebayo et al., 2014; Tuso & Flaherty, 2016). One example from the area of child welfare suggests that cultural identity and cultural attachment strategies foster the natural resiliencies that exist within the Aboriginal nations. “It is the teachings, the language, and the cultural ceremonies that have been passed down from generation to generation, from Elder to Elder, from parent to child. Seeking this knowledge and applying it to current realities is an important aspect of culturally restorative child welfare practice” (Simard, 2009, p. 45). The narratives within my work provide three critical considerations when thinking about Indigenous peoples and peacebuilding: trauma, land/environment, and narrative. The first is that physical space (natural geography and man-made structures) holds memories. Physical space can act as a memory trigger to both traumatic and pleasurable experiences. When traumatic events occur, we are forever held hostage to those memories through sights, sounds, smells, touch, and taste. My research suggests that experiences as a child can be triggered by smells like cigarettes, sweat, and wine that our unconscious psyche remembers. Sometimes unknown to us, those memories have a profound influence on our present and future relationships. The uncomfortable feelings we may exhibit at the moment we encounter those triggers are heavily influenced by historical memories. Those memories shape our relationships despite our best efforts to ignore or suppress the feelings. Second, changing the narrative associated with historical events cued by memories on the land can build resiliency. Resiliency meaning “the capacity of a system to absorb disturbance and reorganize while undergoing change so as to still retain essentially the same function, structure, identity, and feedbacks” (Folke et al., 2010 as cited in Woolford et al., 2014, p. 209). We all have the ability to build and shape the stories of our lives. Presently, colonial powers are in 353

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control of the Indigenous story internationally, nationally, and provincially. Each level of the contemporary world order perceives and interprets the events of our lives. However, at the local level, we hold the ability to reshape stories. This occurs through sharing stories of resistance and positive memories – reshaping the violent memories of the past and breaking the pattern of violence because “it is through stories that memory and history are transmitted” (Mcleod, 2007, p. 11). Finally, we have the ability to influence the direction of narratives. We can choose to be held hostage to traumatic memories, or we can learn to take control of them. In one example, a female teacher in a building on the community sexually abused a male participant from my research repeatedly. What would happen if he were required to work in that building? What if other members of the community were repeatedly abused by the imported schoolteacher and had to work in the same building. As one participant shared, “I can’t stand going in there. Every time I go in there it just makes me sick to my stomach” recalling being beaten in the basement of the community administrative office by the schoolteacher. Herman (1997) suggests that the action of telling a story “in the safety of a protected relationship can actually produce a change in the abnormal processing of the traumatic memory; With this transformation of memory comes relief of many of the major symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder.” (p. 183) Narratives gathered for my research provide the basis for cultural definition of self through the sharing of stories related to traumatic events and provide the context for community continuity between the past, present, and future. Clearly, the memories of the people who participated (including myself) are haunted by historical experiences and their perspective has a profound impact on the way stories are told and interpreted. The community and family sharing circles – a traditional healing ceremony – provided safety where traumatic memories could be transformed. Similarly, colonial forces arrived in North America and began to rename everything in the likeness of their homelands. Planned or accidental, the result has been the erasing of Aboriginal language and culture from the landscape. Renaming allows the reclaiming of language and thus culture breaking relational patterns and cycles of violence.

The paradox of complexity, indigenous identity, and violence European settlement of North America has been extremely violent. Founded on European views of the world and structures of society, contemporary processes of Westernization remain inherently violent with Indigenous peoples around the globe victims of modernization and settlement. Since direct and immediate killing is avoided by making the causal chain longer, the actor avoids having to face the violence directly. “To the victims however, it may mean slow but intentional killing through malnutrition and lack of medical attention hitting the weakest first, the children, the elderly, the poor, the woman” (Galtung, 1990, p. 293). Exploitation in this context means those at the top construct and maintain the structure so they receive more than those at the bottom. This archetypal violent structure has remained the same in Canada over centuries, beginning with the early fur trade in the 1760s to the late 1800s (Daschuk, 2013), to contemporary times where relationships with Indigenous peoples have become a culture of or cultural violence as described by Johan Galtung (1990), meaning those aspects of culture, the symbolic sphere of our existence – used to justify or legitimize violence making “direct or structural violence look, even feel, right – or at least not wrong” (p. 291). In relation to Indigenous conflict systems, the historical and contemporary impacts of imperialism and the international otherness created by the ongoing violent acquisition of Indigenous lands for economic exploitation requires not only consideration for the present world order, but the organization of traditional societal and community structures. The legal context of the 354

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world system in relation to the way we acquire land for economic exploitation remains focused on the removal of humans from the environment and a severance of the life line between society (especially Indigenous societies) and the natural world. The world system and the various levels of organization are the elements employed to minimize or eliminate resistance to the violence of world systems. Thus, the paradox of complexity allows the imposition of one worldview over another by hiding the violence towards Indigenous peoples within multiple layers of rules, treaties, legal organization, and bureaucracy. An Aboriginal worldview sees peace as a process, a process of life-long learning (Cormier, 2014). The iterative nature of learning requires a dialectical process for the investigation of conflict/peace with partners. Embracing the cyclical nature of life in investigation allows the identification of patterns to understand dynamics within the world system. Thus, the spaces between systemic levels and the organizational interfaces of societies are where we must focus to identify the patterns of change because these interfaces are where the colonized and colonizer are interdependent and where cultural identity is negotiated. There is no better example of this dynamic than in considering the meaning of land for the colonizer (in this context European culture), the colonized (Aboriginal/Indigenous peoples), and the legal context upon which the theft of land for resource exploitation is justified. Differences in worldview are more than cultural points of interest; they are sites of political contestation of power (Walker, 2004) and identity. Thus, the process of identifying or forming one’s worldview for Indigenous peoples is not a confirmation of Aboriginal identity, but a compromise, a renegotiation of Aboriginality (Adelson, 2000) into the dominant paradigm to comply with the power structures of the international system. The result is that “cultural minorities have been led to believe that their poverty and impotence are a result of their race . . . This ideology seeks to change the consciousness of the oppressed, not change the situation that oppressed them” (Battiste, 2009, p. 198). This level of sustained attack over five centuries facilitated the internalized Indigenous belief within the educated elite that their cultures are somehow inferior and have nothing to contribute to modernity (Tuso, 2011). This type of violence is extreme because it infiltrates the structures of society. It is particularly insidious as it becomes unseen to the majority of the population, forming the foundation upon which a culture of violence can blossom and spread. The study of cultural violence, suggests Galtung (1990), highlights the way in which the act of direct violence and the fact of structural violence are legitimized and rendered acceptable in society by making reality opaque, so we do not see the violent act or fact. For those of us living between the spaces of international boundaries, exemplified by Indigenous peoples for this discussion, our identities become intimately linked to the ongoing violence of the systems to which we are subjected.

Conclusion: Aboriginal culture, identity, social conflict, research, and transformation Given the importance many theorists place on the analysis of history and culture in conflict, it is critical that researchers in PACS consider that each culture comes with its own unique political considerations. Within the framework of the CICS, the evolution of culture and its relation to cultural and cognitive imperialism cannot be separated from the processes of settlement experienced by Indigenous populations. History is written by the conquerors, so the conquerors may tell their glorious story of settlement thereby attempting to build a national identity. If we assume that the history of Canada is written by colonists, in the language of the colonists, and censored through European structures of society to perpetuate norms in the broad interest of European / Canadian society, then we must also consider that the many, if not all, governance structures are 355

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similarly biased towards the culture of the colonists, being inherently violent towards Indigenous peoples and ways of being perpetuating a trauma identity (Rahman et al., 2017). Processes of acculturation exist within a complex web of inter-relations with a number of forces and factors that influence the formation of identity. Understanding the ebb and flow of cultures within the confines of the structures that harbor violence within the CICS allows researchers in PACS to consider how the culture within our discipline may evolve into a culture of violence and consider how this influences our approaches towards peacebuilding. If we assume peace is only achievable once you have peace within, then it is critical that our discipline model the peace culture we hope to facilitate between or with others. Fisher (2000) suggests that intergroup conflict occurs when “individual members of a party or group are acting and reacting toward members of the other group in terms of their social identification with their group (which forms an important part of their social identity) rather than as individuals” (p. 168). This definition of intergroup conflict highlights two important considerations: first, conflict is a social phenomenon in that it takes interaction between individuals or groups to create conflict, second, social groupings facilitate social identity. Thus, the multiple layers of the CICS have a profound influence on Indigenous identities, concepts of self, and structures within society. The author’s discussion provides a comparative framework for explaining conflict through an Indigenous/Aboriginal worldview, by viewing research as a ceremony, as peacebuilding, and as learning became a process of transformation similar to those discussed by Lederach (2003), in which he makes a distinction between conflict resolution and transformation arguing that, “conflict transformation is more than a set of specific techniques. It is a way of looking and seeing, and it provides a set of lenses through which we make sense of social conflict.” (p. 2). By viewing conflict and peace through an Aboriginal worldview, the peace culture of my community (including myself) surfaces and we rediscover our culture of peace. It lies within the various features of our traditional home lands surfaced through processes that reflect the natural life ways of my people. Ariss and Cutfeet (2012) suggest that understanding the deep spiritual, physical, and cultural connection between the land and the people is essential to understanding everything else, and that “the land provides life and peace” (p. 162). This idea becomes clearer to me as I move through my research ceremony and this is why, for Indigenous peoples, if the land is sick, the people will also be sick. Our continued ability to practice our culture is predicated on our ability to practice our traditional ways of life on the land. Disruption of those patterns causes a change in our culture that some argue is cultural genocide (Churchill, 1997) or colonial genocide (Woolford et al., 2014). The dichotomy created by theorists between the constructive and destructive nature of conflict assists us in understanding that conflict is a complicated term with cultural context and the most severe political connotations. The political dimensions of culture and its application in the context of Indigenous conflicts necessitate a particularly careful consideration of the term culture and its use. Clearly, leaders tend to politicize culture and its various forms for political ends. With colonization came the ultimate politicization of Indigenous culture that created the systems that harbor Indigenous violence within the structures of contemporary society. By considering groups like Indigenous nations that live within the spaces of the international community through conceptual tools like the CICS, we are essentially creating new social space in society for new behaviors and social relations by eliminating underlying causes and conditions of hostilities, including structural and cultural violence, to bring positive peace (Sandole, 2011). This focus allows consideration for the management or elimination of oppression symptomatic of the structural conditions that influence behaviour caused by laws, policies, authoritarian practices, and cultural group or peer norms (Weller & Weller, 2000). 356

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Indigenous peoples transcend the boundaries of nation-states. As a result, we are often overlooked, neglected, or seen as a threat to Western concepts of peacebuilding, resulting in an identity dilemma within our populations. By considering the critical link between positive Indigenous identity formation, traditional homelands, and imported European structures of society, we can create social space for the negotiation of Aboriginality or positive Indigenous identity within contemporary contexts.

Notes 1 Galtung (1969) created a dichotomy for conceptualizing the various iterations of peace between what he calls “negative” and “positive” peace or the absence of personal and structural violence. “Just as a coin has two sides”, he writes, “peace also has two sides: absence of personal violence, and absence of structural violence. We shall refer to them as negative peace and positive peace respectively.” (p. 183). This concept of positive peace – the absence of all direct, cultural, and structural violence –requires a shift from a concept of peace as the absence of war, to a concept of peace as a positive, organic process of relations. 2 Walker (2004, p. 546) asserted that ontological violence is, “the forceful introduction of one worldview to the extent that it marginalizes or suppresses another worldview.” 3 Epistemological tyranny, suggests Kincheloe & Steinberg (2008, p. 144), “still functions in the academy to undermine efforts to include other ways of knowing and knowledge production.” 4 Battiste (2009) described cognitive imperialism as a form of cognitive manipulation used to disclaim other knowledge bases and values that denies people their language and cultural integrity by maintaining the legitimacy of only one language, one culture, and one frame of reference. 5 Palys (2003, p. 28) asserted that having one “epistemological group impose its standards on another is little more than the academic equivalent of cultural imperialism.”

References Adebayo, A. G., Benjamin, J. J., & Lundy, B. D. (Eds.) (2014), Indigenous Conflict Management Strategies: Global Perspectives. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Adelson, N. (2000). Re-imagining aboriginality: An indigenous peoples’ response to social suffering. Transcultural Psychiatry, 37(1), 11–34. Ariss, R., & Cutfeet, J. (2012). Keeping the Land: Kitchenuhnaykoosib inninuwug, Reconciliation and Canadian Law. Halifax, NS: Fernwood Publishing. Avruch, K. (2008). Culture. In S. Cheldelin, D. Druckman, & L. Fast (Eds.), Conflict (pp. 167–80). New York: Continuum. Avruch, K. (2010). Culture theory, culture clash, and the practice of conflict resolution. In D. J. D. Sandole, S. Byrne, I. Sandole-Staroste & J. Senehi (Eds.), Handbook of Conflict Analysis and Resolution (pp. 241–55). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Battiste, M. (2009). Maintaining aboriginal identity, language, and culture in modern society. In M. Battiste (Ed.), Reclaiming Indigenous Voice and Vision (pp. 193–208). Vancouver, BC: UBC Press. Benvenuto, J. (2014). Revisiting Choctaw ethnocide and ethnogenesis: The creative destruction of colonial genocide. In A. Woolford, J. Benvenuto, A. Hinton (Eds.), Colonial Genocide in Indigenous North America (pp. 208–25). Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Churchill, W. (1997). A Little Matter of Genocide: Holocaust and Denial in the Americas 1942 to the Present. San Francisco, CA: City Lights Books. Cook-Huffman, C. (2010). The role of identity in conflict. In D. J. D. Sandole, S. Byrne, I. Sandole-Staroste & J. Senehi (Eds.), Handbook of Conflict Analysis and Resolution (pp. 19–31). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Cormier, P. (2014). Aboriginal peoples and the role of religion in conflict: The ever elusive peace. In T. Matyok, M. Flaherty, H. Tuso, J. Senehi, S. Byrne (Eds.), Peace on Earth: The Role of Religion in Peace and Conflict Studies (pp. 165–80). Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Cormier, P. (2016). Kinoo’amaadawaad megwaa doodamawaad – “They are learning with each other while they are doing”: The opaaganasining (popestone) living peace framework. In H. Tuso & M. Flaherty (Eds.), Creating the Third Force: Indigenous Processes of Peacemaking (pp. 229–47). Lanham, MD: Lexington Books.

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Paul Nicolas Cormier Daschuk, J. (2013). Clearing the Plains: Disease, Politics of Starvation, and the Loss of Aboriginal Life. Regina, SK: University of Regina Press. Frideres, J. (2008). Aboriginal identity in Canadian contexts. Canadian Journal of Native Studies, 28(2), 313–42. Fisher, R. (2000). Intergroup conflict. In M. Deutsch & P. Coleman (Eds.), The Handbook of Conflict Resolution. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass Inc. Galtung, J. (1969). Violence, peace, and peace research. Journal of Peace Research, 6(1), 167–91. Galtung, J. (1990). Cultural violence. Journal of Peace Research, 27(3), 291–305. Henderson, J. (2008). Indigenous Diplomacy and the Rights of Peoples: Achieving UN Recognition. Saskatoon, SK: Purich Publishing Ltd. Herman, J. (1997). Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence – from Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. New York: Basic Books. Hiller, H. (1991). Culture. In L. Tepperman & R. Richardson (Eds.), An Introduction to Sociology: The Social World (2nd Ed., pp. 73–103). New York: McGraw-Hill Ryerson Limited. Kincheloe, J. L., & Steinberg, S. R. (2008). Indigenous knowledges in education: Complexities, dangers, and profound benefits. In N. K. Denzin, Y. S. Lincoln, L. T. Smith (Eds.), Handbook of Critical and Indigenous Methodologies (pp. 135–56). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications. Ladner, K. (2014). Political genocide: Killing nations through legislation and slow-moving poison. In A. Woolford, J. Benvenuto, A. Hinton (Eds.), Colonial Genocide in Indigenous North America (pp. 226–45). Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Lederach, J. (2003). Conflict Transformation. www.beyondintractability.org/essay/transformation Mcleod, N. (2007). Cree Narrative Memory: From Treaties to Contemporary Times. Vancouver, BC: UBC Press. Mac Ginty, R. (2012). Between resistance and compliance: Non-participation and the liberal peace. Journal of Intervention and Statebuilding, 6(2), 167–87. Northrup, T. (1989). The dynamic of identity in personal and social conflict. In L. Kriesberg, T. Northrup, S. Thorson (Eds.), Intractable Conflicts and their Transformation (pp. 55–82). San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Palys, T. (2003). Research Decisions: Quantitative and Qualitative Perspectives. Scarborough, ON: Thomson Canada Ltd. Powell, C., & Peristerakis, J. (2014). Genocide in Canada: A relational view. In A. Woolford, J. Benvenuto, A. Hinton (Eds.), Colonial Genocide in Indigenous North America (pp. 70–92). Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Rahman, A., Clarke, M. A., & Byrne, S. (2017). The art of breaking people down: The British colonial model in Ireland and Canada. Peace Research: Canadian Journal of Peace and Conflict Studies, 49(2), 15–38. Reardon, B. (1992). Toward a paradigm of peace. In J. Fahey & R. Armstrong (Eds.), A Peace Reader: Essential Readings on War, Justice, Non-Violence, and World Order (pp. 391–403). Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press. Robertson, I. (1988). Sociology. New York: Worth Publishers Ltd. Rorty, R. (1998). Truth and Progress. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Sandole, D. J. D. (2011). Peacebuilding. Cambridge, UK: Polity. Senehi, J. (2010). Building peace: Storytelling to transform conflicts constructively. In D. J. D. Sandole, S. Byrne, I. Staroste-Sandole & J. Senehi (Eds.), The Handbook of Conflict Analysis and Resolution (pp. 201–23). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Simard, E. (2009). Culturally restorative child welfare practice – a special emphasis on cultural attachment theory. First Peoples Child and Family Review, 4(2), 44–61. Tuso, H. (2011). Indigenous processes of conflict resolution: Neglected methods of peacemaking by the new field of conflict resolution. In T. Matyók, J. Senehi, & S. Byrne (Eds.), Critical Issues in Peace and Conflict Studies (pp. 199–215). Lanham, MD: Lexington. Tuso, H., & Flaherty, M. (Eds.) (2016). Creating the Third Force: Indigenous Processes of Peace Making. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Wadden, M. (2008). Where the Pavement Ends: Canada’s Aboriginal Recovery Movement and the Urgent Need for Reconciliation. Vancouver, BC: Douglas & McIntyre Ltd. Walker, P. (2004). Decolonizing conflict resolution: Addressing the ontological violence of westernization. American Indian Quarterly, 28(3–4), 527–49. Weller, L., Jr., & Weller, S. (2000). Quality Human Resource Leadership: A Principal’s Handbook. Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press. Wesley-Esquimaux, C., & Smolewski, M. (1999). Historic Trauma and Aboriginal Healing. Ottawa ON: Aboriginal Healing Foundation. Woolford, A., Benvenuto, J., & Hinton, A. L. (Eds.) (2014). Colonial Genocide in Indigenous North America. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.

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30 INNOVATIONS Critical peace education and yogic peace education Katerina Standish

Education is about learning – organized learning done in settings that can include classrooms, community centers, the Internet or venues in the field. Peace education is a form of learning that looks at both identifying education as a potential site of conflict and violence, and a way of imparting values and techniques that seek to recognize conflict, diminish or eradicate violence, and share tools for contributing to peace (Harris & Morrison, 2013). Peace is conceived of in peace education in broad (although unremittingly nonviolent) terms and can comprise inclusivity, democracy, sustainability, emotional regulation, social collaboration, cultural awareness, social justice, and various complementary practices incorporated in personal peacebuilding, including mindfulness training and holistic wellness components. There is no single peace education, and nor is there a solitary method of delivery in peace education for teacher/facilitator/ learners to utilize. Peace education is utilized in a multitude of settings, including conflict zones, post-conflict communities, and in so-called tranquil nations. Peace education has a variety of philosophical, cultural, and political roots all of which concern our values, attitudes, behaviors, and mindsets as humans. In the past, scholars have critiqued peace education as overly broad, utterly approximate, and incoherently versatile (Salomon, 2004). They charge that, because peace education applies to many diverse programs that are dissimilar in scope, duration, and target audience, peace education as everything is actually nothing. The spirited call to gather inward and define the discipline has had impactful results. There are now multiple delineated and defined peace educations that share the core foundation of what peace education is: the recognition of education as a social facet that can contribute to violence but also destabilize it; and an awareness that learning war values is a choice – other choices can (and should) be made. Peace education connects the act of educating (pedagogy) to nonviolent action by connecting education to peacebuilding (an intervention that seeks to transform violence). Peace education recognizes that there is an association between cultural learning (learning who you are) and learning peace (as opposed to learning violence) and reminds us that that we are far more peaceful than our war narratives would have us believe (Fry, 2007). Violence is a problem and peace education seeks to recognize, address, prevent, and transform; its goal is to connect why and what we learn to how and in which way we then think, feel, and live. The field began as a response to Western forms of imperialism in the early 20th century, fermenting in the anti-nationalist and anti-imperialist rhetoric in the United States (US) and Europe. This chapter will begin with a presentation of the challenge or problem contemporary 359

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peace education faces, a brief history of seven foundational voices in the field, and then presents two current incarnations of peace education, Critical Peace Education (CPE) and Yogic Peace Education (YPE) that seek to address the problem of peace education.

An overview of peace education (where we have been) An introductory syllabus for peace education would likely include a number of voices whose contributions to the field precede and cross-pollinate one another. Looking at peace or conflict or violence from a variety of different disciplines has formed multidisciplinary roots for studying violent phenomena – this has helped to form the sub-discipline of peace education where education is linked to violence, conflict, and peace. Peace and conflict studies (PACS) congealed as distinct from other fields in the sciences, social sciences, and humanities by becoming interdisciplinary, forming new ways of modeling and conceptualizing the dynamics of peace and conflict (and violence) distinct from original, traditional, disciplines. From psychologists who study peacebuilding, to engineers who design the infrastructures of peace to educators who incorporate peacelearning into their classrooms, the discipline of PACS developed a platform for the emergence of peace education as its own distinct area of inquiry and activity.

The imperious polemic of peace education The materialization of the field of peace education has not occurred without controversy. The Eurocentric content of peace education has met with the same critiques as Western conflict resolution practices, maintaining that a Western cultural standpoint makes the orientation of the field of peace education a form of violence in itself. Critique draws attention to the fact that the source of much in peace education is either Christianity or human rights, “united in tying resistance against violence or the prevention of conflict . . . as an ahistoric, essential, universalistic phenomenon” (Gur-Ze’ev, 2001, p. 316). Gur Z’e’ev (2001), in recognizing the essentializing quality of many 20th-century peace education(s), urged the field to recognize its theological roots and its theoretical shortcomings: Postmodernists, modernists, humanists, feminists, post-colonialists, and multiculturalists, of many stripes, are all committed to challenging the universalistic and essentialist conception of human rights (p. 319) . . . [and] the avoidance of treating the social, cultural, and historical dimensions of the context within which peace education flourishes; at the same time, it also reproduced the dichotomies between victims and victimizers, good and evil, light and darkness, and ultimately gives birth to a positive utopia . . . [while the] politics of recognition, the politics of representation, and the life-and-death war raging between and within narratives and truth regimes are unmentioned, unchallenged, and unaddressed. (p. 330) This critical appreciation contributes to incarnations that connect the local to the theoretical in peacebuilding in general, and purposively, in the work of scholars who gather under the critical tent. Yet, it also draws scrutiny to assumptions held in peace education that what you learn can never not be comprised of a regime of truth or participant in the delivery of (and the valuing of) a particular cultural narrative (Freire, 2003) even if it is a local narrative or value. Which leaves 360

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us in peace education with an objective (decrease or eliminate violence and foster and support nonviolent peace), and a methodology (intervention) that cannot be free from criticism. We now see that we, in peace education, walk a line vacillating between coloniality (Quijano, 2000) and cultural nonviolence (Standish, 2014). Coloniality is the continuation of the European colonization project through constructs of knowledge and social structures (such as schools), and cultural nonviolence is understood as an aspect of culture that delegitimizes violence. New peace education (such as CPE and YPE) cannot ignore the coloniality of Western peace education projects, but it can seek to become an “aspect of culture that seeks to delegitimize and challenge violence in society: (Standish, 2014, p. 52). And there is moral tension – local or native or Indigenous peacebuilding constructs are increasingly considered superior and more appropriate than Western ones, yet violence is still atrocious and detrimental even when it is condoned in traditional culture. Indeed, traditional cultures are not less violent than modern ones: sometimes they are violent in different ways, and sometimes their violence is no different at all. Peace education seeks to recognize violence and transform it – when violence no longer exists a case could be made for the end of peace education (Indigenous, local, Western, or otherwise), but as violence-free living spaces (though desirable) are in the global minority, innovations in the field are welcomed to the fray. While a comprehensive encapsulation of the history of peace education (in all cultures) is impossible in this short segment, a list of key peace education “voices” in the Western canon is presented including: John Dewey, Maria Montessori, Jane Addams, Paulo Freire, Betty Reardon, Birgit Brock-Utne, and Ian Harris.

John Dewey 1859–1952 John Dewey was a proponent of the educational philosophy of Instrumentalism, a philosopher, and an educational theorist at the University of Chicago who set forth the belief that ideas are thoughts that are tools that should solve problems in real life. He promoted the notion that schools should be child-centered, and that the focus should not be on the accumulation of facts or information but the development of the child as a member of a community. Dewey advocated for American participation in World War I, but following the deadly conflict that led to the deaths of over seven million soldiers he changed his position and averred that militaristic patriotism could be challenged and transformed through an internationalism that used schooling to share information about the lives of others through subjects such as geography and history. To Dewey, education’s roles were to challenge notions of nationalism (something he saw as dangerous and violent), and to engage with our shared humanity as global citizens. Dewey’s major contributions to the field include School and Society (1899), The Child and Curriculum (1902), and Democracy and Education (1916).

Jane Addams 1860–1935 Jane Addams, a student of John Dewey at the University of Chicago, is best known as a social reformer and antiwar proponent. She, too, opposed patriotic militancy and espoused internationalist (not nationalist) sensibilities, but she also considered capitalism to be a contributor to world violence. Although she perceived pacifism as both static (un-dynamic) and idealistic (unrooted to real life), she did seek to contribute to nonviolence through the creation of what was named Hull House: an education center and immigrant self-development network in Chicago’s poor 19th ward. Jane Addams suggested that social harmony would result from social, economic, and political education, and her major works include Democracy and Social Ethics (1902) and Peace and Bread in Time of War (1922). 361

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Maria Montessori 1870–1952 The biography of Maria Montessori normally begins with her training as a medical doctor (the first Italian woman to qualify as such), but similar to John Dewey and Jane Addams, she believed that schools were state organs that transmitted nationalist narratives to children. As states are institutions that wage war, to Montessori, schools, as part of the state, were also part of the problem. The solution to Montessori was easy: as state schools prepared children to wage war, the world needed different schools – schools that prepared children to work for peace. She took the child-led learning models she had been constructing during her work supporting education for so-called disabled children and applied them to children in her first Casa Dei Bambini created in Rome in 1907. In this child-led learning unit (the first different school in Rome), she perceived that citizens would develop immunity to elite war propaganda through critical thought and informed reflection. To Montessori, peace was not static but dynamic, and fostering peace required teaching and curricula that dynamically engage with positive learning. Montessori was the first peace pedagogue to articulate that it was not merely what you learn but how you learn that leads to violence or peace. Today, her schools are worldwide, and while still considered alternatives to mainstream education, her methods infuse contemporary education and contemporary educators. Her major works include The Montessori Method (1909) and Education and Peace (1949).

Paolo Freire 1921–1997 Inspired by both the worldwide socialist revolution and the work of liberation theology, Paolo Freire was a radical humanist pedagogue working in Brazil. In Brazil, in the 1960s, your ability to read had political ramifications – if you could not read, you could not vote. To Freire, literacy was tied to political participation, which meant social transformation was impossible without learning. He saw education as non-neutral and always politically purposive. He originated critical pedagogical paradigms of authentic dialogue (interaction between theory and practice) and the importance of conscientization: that consciousness leads to social transformation (termed critical pedagogy). Critical pedagogy emerges from the understanding that emancipatory education is not a deposit (banking education) of knowledge into students’ minds but an engagement with real life (problem posing education). He believed that critical consciousness results in what he termed praxis or intellectual reflection that leads to genuine action. In addition to many other constructs of critical pedagogy, he proposed that learning should be horizontal (without authority) where educators and learners co-construct knowledge. He is famous for several volumes including the Pedagogy of the Oppressed (1970), the Pedagogy of Hope (1984), and the Pedagogy of Freedom (1998).

Betty Reardon 1929– Betty Reardon is the founder of the Peace Education Centre at Teachers College at Columbia University in New York. She has stated that the purpose of peace education is the understanding, decrease, control, and eradication of violence and that if peace education partners with positive educative peacelearning platforms such as human rights education, global education, and gender education it can contribute to bringing about positive peace (Galtung, 1990). For Reardon, the goals of education include recognition of how authority and violence function in society and the recognition of our inherent human dignity. In her view equality leads to social justice, which then acts to prevent violence in society. She is a prolific writer, and some of her 362

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major works include: Comprehensive Peace Education: Educating for Global Responsibility (1988), Learning Peace: The Promise of Ecological and Cooperative Education (1994), and Education for a Culture of Peace in a Gender Perspective (2001).

Birgit Brock-Utne 1938– Birgit Brock-Utne is a Norweigan educator whose work in peace education has included the realization that while periods without war are often conceived of as a time of peace – negative peace (Galtung, 1990) – authentic peace does not exist for women during violent conflict or in tranquil times, and it is not a salient variable in the conceptualizations of peace worldwide. For Brock-Utne, a feminist peace means recognizing a constant war against women that is as invisible as it is global. Her work sensitizes learners that concepts of peace (including Galtung’s constructs of negative or positive peace) do not include gender in a meaningful way, that violence against women (VAW) is a fundamental obstacle to authentic peace, and that if we consider women’s experiences of violence worldwide we cannot possibly imagine any of us living in peace. Her work encourages a deeper understanding of the link between militarism and sexism and the gendered constructs of particular forms of masculinity and femininity that duplicate and perpetuate VAW. In English, her major work in peace education is Educating for Peace – a Feminist Perspective (1985).

Ian Harris 1943– Ian Harris is a peace educator whose seminal work Peace Education (2013) (written with Mary Lee Morrison and now in its 3rd edition) presents the sub-discipline of peace education as a strategy: to raise consciousness about violence, to vision a world without violence, and to work together to embody nonviolence and enact human and ecological spaces without violence. In regard to the oft-repeated critique of peace education that because it is everything it is nothing (Salomon, 2004; Salomon & Nevo 2002), Harris avers that as there are many forms of violence there must be equally as many forms of peace education. The myriad incarnations of peace education relate to a particular form or incarnation of violence and, importantly, Harris includes in his concept of violence the natural world, incorporating ecological violence within his conceptualizations of harm. In addition, and in relation to this chapter, crucially, Harris also suggests that peace education should not only seek to strive for social justice and environmental harmony, but it should also attend to the inner life of humans or inner peace. To Harris, transformation of violence includes democratic education, human rights education, environmental education, development education, conflict resolution education, and learning about violence prevention in social systems, nature, and the self. He is also the author of ‘Peace education theory’, in Journal of Peace Education, 1(1) (2004), 5–20.

Where we are and where we are going There are many more voices in peace education that contribute to the breadth and scope of this emerging sub-discipline. The interdisciplinary work of peace education means that many people who are contributing to the field are active in disciplines outside of education and peace and conflict studies, and are working at the nexus of peace, conflict, and education. Interested readers could look at theorists and empirical researchers in dozens of disciplines in many, many countries (and languages) and note that the link between education and learning, doing and embodying peace is alive and well throughout world academies and world communities. 363

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The next section distinguishes two forms of 21st-century peace education to show ways the field is innovating and where we can go from here.

Innovations in peace education (where we are going) The purpose, focus, and locus of peace education, as has been mentioned, relates to the form of violence under review. In instances of direct violence (physical harm or threats of physical harm), individuals seek to address interpersonal violence using methods and means that delegitimize the use of violence in addressing interpersonal conflict. Such programs seek to create awareness of potential harms, decrease or eradicate violence, and provide justifications that include notions of personal rights and dignity. When violence is structural, peace education programs seek to recognize institutional violence and can include understanding current and desired legal protections and mobilizing consciousness of inequality. Cultural violence, the root of much structural and direct violence, is rooted in how we see one another, how we see ourselves and how we see the world (including spiritual worldviews). Such violence is transformed by challenging stereotypical notions, creating shared visions of humanity and implementing encounter programs that include engaging meaningfully (and hopefully long term) with difference and diversity. Paolo Freire considered that, ultimately, transformation is a personal process of change that leads to what he termed full humanity (Freire, 2003). In the next secion two kinds of peace education build upon the prior notions of identifying what kind of violence equals what kind of peace education to contribute to our full humanity and innovate the mechanism of revolution to include social change and personal transformation, namely Critical Peace Education (CPE) and Yogic Peace Education (YPE). Potentiality refers to the possibility of a particular feature to be improved in the future – to make something better; the next section will illustrate two contemporary peace education innovations to demonstrate their respective and collective complementary potentiality.

Critical Peace Education Similar to other research disciplines, Critical Peace Education (CPE) critiques social processes and structures and pledges emancipatory action for oppressed persons (Bajaj, 2008). CPE is concerned with the development of critical consciousness (Freire, 2003) and recognizes that global inequality is a form of social injustice that the field of peace education should seek to remedy (Snauwaert, 2011). In many ways, CPE can be considered a response to critiques of peace education in the last century that called attention to the fragmented delivery and content of the sub-discipline by the late 1990s (Salomon, 2004) and the perception that peace education content “is itself a manifestation” of violence (Gur-Ze’ev, 2001, p. 315). The recognition that peace education is largely a creature of the Western academe espousing ideologies of universal human rights and capitalist development, with a rampant disregard for local culture and values, is an echo of the critique of liberal peacebuilding (Duffield, 2001; Paris, 2002; Richmond, 2005; Mac Ginty & Richmond, 2007), which transplants Western ideas and interventions into zones of conflict, ignoring “the social context and the challenge to actual power relations” within which conflict emerges (Gur-Ze’ev, 2001, p. 322). Dissimilar to other forms of critical theory and research, CPE does not locate itself in neo-Marxist economic ideology but as a commitment to “transformation via raising consciousness, vision, and transformative action” (Brantmeier, 2013, p. 250). In this goal, educative processes are seen as potentially supportive of the creative and productive aims of raising critical consciousness only when locally rooted and historically contextualized (Bajaj & Hantzopoulos, 2016). 364

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CPE is defined by contemporary scholars in a variety of complementary but slightly different ways. Christopher and Taylor (2011) consider two forms of CPE, either social justice via activism (Giroux & McLaren, 1986; Giroux, 1995) or relationship creation via peacebuilding (Lederach, 2005). The Freireian praxis is considered integral to both approaches where CPE serves as a vehicle for either social equality or positive bonding. While the peacebuilding approach is delegitimized by some scholars (see Brantmeier, 2011) who consider social equality (especially in schools) as antecedent to constructive rapport between people, CPE is a peacebuilding intervention that seeks to “interrupt inequalities” considered to be the roots of discord and conflict (Bajaj, 2015, p. 155). In their introduction to Critical Peace Education: Difficult Dialogues, Trifonas and Wright (2013) declare that the task ahead for peace education is “one of negotiating the limits of our constructed human body of knowledge toward an ethical future where peace and social justice are built on a foundation of equanimity” (p. xiv). Ethical principles are moral constructs that relate to right and wrong, and while peace education (at least non-CPE forms) is criticized as a form of symbolic (Salmi, 2006) and cultural violence (Galtung, 1990), the aim of CPE is to engage with the context and past to recognize and transform these violences from the peace education platform. The goal of equanimity relates to composure in difficult circumstances and, similar to other global North exports such as Western conflict resolution, relates to a cultural preference (for calmness or emotionlessness) that is not necessarily suitable in all contexts and is unconnected to the CPE goal of equality and socially just living systems (Brigg, 2004). Moving on from what CPE is not to what it decidedly is, is not difficult. Peace education seeks to understand and dismantle violence (Harris, 2004), and as CPE is comprised of a “politics of emancipation,” it aims to recognize and dismantle discriminatory violence (Reardon, 2013, p. 16). This means looking for emancipation opportunities tied to both identity and equality. [C]ritical peace educators pay attention to how unequal social relations and issues of power must inform both peace education and corresponding social action . . . pays close attention to local realities and local conceptions of peace, amplifying marginalized voices through community-based research, narratives, oral histories, and locallygenerated curricula . . . draws from social reproductive theory [structures and activities that transmit social inequality from one generation to the next] and critical pedagogy (Freire) to view schools as both potential sites of marginalization and/or transformation . . . it considers multiple spaces within and outside of state-runs schools . . . as conduits for possibility, liberation, and social change. (Bajaj & Hantzopoulos, 2016, p. 4) Indeed, CPE is a social project wherein education and educators are agents of change and instigators of emancipatory action. In CPE, schools become “strategic social spaces . . . to support development of positive relationships among conflicting groups, to decrease, negative stereotypes, and to eliminate violence” (Christopher & Taylor, 2011, p. 297). In CPE, education is recognized as a site of problematization; schools become places where knowledge, representation, intersubjectivity, and historical narratives can be countered, examined, and ultimately challenged. Attendant to the consciousness raising of CPE is the task of bringing the peripheral and marginal to the centres of learning while turning advocates of egalitarianism into activists for inclusion and equality (Gur-Ze’ev, 2001). In this objective, CPE is aimed at “transcending the objectification of persons . . . with the concept of universal moral inclusion in mind” to challenge narratives of exclusion and fundamentalism and humanize both learners and educators to dismantle violence (Reardon, 2013, p. 10; Bajaj & Hantzopoulos, 2016). 365

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Yogic Peace Education Yogic Peace Education (YPE) differs from the majority of peace education programs in that the purpose is not to change situations of conflict (whether interpersonal, cultural, or social), but to transform violence in the self (Standish & Joyce, 2018). Cognition and behaviour (how we think and what we do) may be the goal of many current peace educations (including CPE), but in YPE the objective is to actually change the human instrument of living through practices utilized in Yogic Science. Where other peace educations espouse nonviolence, YPE embodies it. In YPE, nonviolence is a state that can be manifested through a variety of diverse and accessible personal practices (and group experiences too, for that matter) that teach individuals how to attune their human instrument toward life-nourishment, and natural nonviolence (a state of being at peace with yourself that then leads to being at peace with others). A sample exercise of YPE is presented here: Simplicity Practice from the Living Without Violence Tool-Kit of YPE (Standish & Joyce, 2018, p. 147): 1 Close your eyes. 2 Take a couple of deep breaths. 3 What do you want in this moment? 4 What do you need in this moment? 5 What do you not need? 6 Is there something you would like to give up? 7 Let it go. 8 Repeat. YPE is a form of personal peacebuilding – an intervention designed to transform conflict in the self with an aim to ripple-out inner transformation of violence into our interactions with others. This is not to be confused with what Trifonas and Wright describe as “equanimity” (2013, p. xiv) as if outer peace or the appearance of composure was automatically indicative of a corresponding internal dimension. Instead, YPE authentically alters the inner landscape of our thoughts, feelings, and physicality to personify tranquillity rather than perform it (Butler, 1990, 1993). While much in peace education is about how we encounter others (and then engage in conflict with others), YPE is about going inward to cultivate inner awareness, selfconsciousness, and inner knowledge. The yogic peace practitioner learns to master their own thought fields, developing a mind that is no longer susceptible to swings of emotion and misery. Such a mind is slow to react and learns the nuanced art of responsiveness. It is in such a mind that violence ceases to be an automatic reaction to pain or slights leaving it an entirely negligible option. What is encouraging is that such a mind can be developed regardless of culture, age, gender or stage. (Standish & Joyce, 2018, p. 2) The nutshell of YPE is that tools and techniques utilized in the nonviolent practice of Yogic Science can become peacelearnings (Reardon, 1988) that are delivered and experienced in educative environments to transform ourselves into instruments of wellness, nonviolence, and peace. There are five principles in YPE that relate to both peace education praxis and Yogic Science, namely integrity, nonviolence, simplicity, connection, and consciousness (see Table 30.1). 366

Innovations Table 30.1  Five principles of Yogic Peace Education (Standish & Joyce 2018) Yogic Peace Education Principles Integrity: truthfulness, unity, authenticity and nonstealing Nonviolence: compassion, nonharming, non self-destruction Simplicity: self-control, sustainable living, moderation, contentment Connection: collective consciousness of the self with others and/or spirit Consciousness: being self-aware, seeking truth with honesty and empathy

These five principles lead to several toolkits of learning, living, and loving without violence that are presented as exercises in the book Yogic Peace Education: Theory and Practice (Standish & Joyce, 2018). The content in the book relates to increasing scientific evidence (Reynolds, 2017) that our human instruments are wired to response factors that can be altered. YPE follows from the observation that we can tune ourselves toward nonviolence and life-nourishment through a variety of exercises that stimulate the parasympathetic nervous system (the nervous system in the body that communicates the all-ok signal, as opposed to the sympathetic nervous system, our arousal system that signals panic/fear/anger, etc.). Consciousness Practice from the Loving Without Violence Tool-Kit of YPE (Standish & Joyce, 2018):   1   2  3   4

Breathe in deeply. Breathe out fully. Rest. Breathe in deeply and hold the breath without struggle (relax the throat) for a time suitable to you.   5 Let go the breath.   6 Breathe easy.   7 Ask yourself what is needed in this moment?   8 Allow yourself to feel the love that is in you, of you and that surrounds you.   9 Rest, relax. 10 You really don’t need to do anything special. 11 Breathe. 12 Smile. 13 Be. Yogic discipline (utilized in YPE) refers to a range of practices that can include mindfulness, ethical observance and restraint, and targeted physiological exercises including movement and breathing. Such exercises are designed to attune the body, soothe the manic mind, and result in feelings of authentic contentedness and personal wellbeing. This attunement is then rippled out from the practitioner into their interactions with others. Yoga is not a cultural or religious science, but a field of practice that has emerged after centuries of observation and experimentation. In the modern age where the word yoga or yogic triggers cultural sensitivity (and/or intolerance), words like mindfulness or integrative fitness stand in for practices that emerge from the yogic knowledge base. In YPE, particular (and appropriate) practices are delivered in educative settings to not only recognize the role in education in personal development but the goal of facilitating wellness in student/teachers as well. Where traditional Eurocentric education was a banking operation depositing certain knowledges into learners’ minds (Freire, 2003), 367

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Spatial Relativity of CPE and YPE:

The Individual

YPE works to transform violence in an individual.

The Context

YPE

CPE

CPE works to transform the violent context surrounding an individual. Figure 30.1  Spacial Relativity of CPE and YPE (author’s collection)

YPE is a peace pedagogy that is nonviolent and life-nourishing by providing potentiality for individual wellbeing and interpersonal and social benefit via personal transformation (Standish & Joyce, 2018). YPE is a way of contributing to the wellness of learner/teachers. It is not a pacific strategy to dull individuals to violence in society (to accept or comply with the violence that surrounds them) rather it is a recognition that much violence is located in the self. CPE seeks to address violence in the world, yet it is also critical that we recognize and transform violence inside of ourselves. CPE and YPE together contribute to living systems (CPE) and human systems (YPE) that use education as a medium for nonviolent transformation. One way of considering this complementarity is to consider the spatial relativity of these two peace education innovations (see Figure 30.1).

Conclusion Peace educations are about addressing forms of violence in the world. If each form of violence has a corresponding form of peace education designed to address it, then the role of peace education in global peacework is to recognize violence, transform violence, and work to inhibit violence in the future. In this chapter the problem of peace education has been outlined, the foundational voices of peace education have been presented, and two distinct peace education methodologies have been examined to characterize the potential for learning to be transformative: Critical Peace Education (CPE) and Yogic Peace Education (YPE). The two forms of peace education are compatible and comprise a valuable two-prong approach to building peaceful and ultimately nonviolent living systems. In this dyadic conceptualization one practice addresses violence in the individual and the other technique addresses violence in society. The challenge of conventional peace education is to address the contention that the form, norms, and foundations of peace education (at least in the Western academe) comprise essentialist and idealistic conceptions that do not question the power relations within which peace 368

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educations are delivered (this unquestioning leads to blindness in the face of social inequalities that remain undisturbed despite the goal of recognizing, resisting, and preventing violence in society). The aim of CPE and YPE is not to ignore realities of history, experience, and inequity but to embed the work of peace education in the local context (in the case of CPE) and the human instrument of living (in the case of YPE).

References Bajaj, M. (2008). Encyclopedia of Peace Education. Charlotte, NC: Information Age Publishing. Bajaj, M. (2015). Pedagogies of resistance and critical peace education praxis. Journal of Peace Education, 12(2), 154–66. Bajaj, M., & Hantzopoulos, M. (2016). Introduction: theory, research, and praxis of peace education. In M. Bajaj & M. Hantzopoulos (Eds.), Peace Education: International Perspectives (pp. 1–16). New York: Bloomsbury. Brantmeier, E. (2011). Toward mainstreaming critical peace education in US teacher education. In C. Stephenson Malott & B. Porfilio (Eds.), Critical Pedagogy in the Twenty-First Century: A New Generation for Scholars (pp. 349–71). Charlotte, NC: Information Age Publishing. Brantmeier, E. (2013). Toward a critical peace education for sustainability. Journal of Peace Education, 10(3), 242–58. Brigg, M. (2004). Exporting western conflict resolution: A perspective on training in the Solomon Islands. World Arbitration and Mediation Review, 15(8), 1–6. Butler, J. (1990). Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Butler, J. (1993). Bodies that Matter: On The Discursive Limits of “Sex.” Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Christopher, D. & Taylor, M. (2011). Social justice and critical peace education: Common ideals guiding student teacher transformation. Journal of Peace Education, 8(3), 295–313. Duffield, M. (2001). Global Governance and the New Wars: The Merging of Development and Security. London: Zed Books. Freire, P. (2003). Pedagogy of the Oppressed (30th Anniversary Ed.). New York: Continuum. Fry, D. (2007). Beyond War: The Human Potential for Peace. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Galtung, J. (1990). Cultural violence. Journal of Peace Research, 27(3), 291–305. Giroux, H. (1995). Teaching for social justice. Democracy and Education, 10(2), 43. Giroux, H. & McLaren, P. (1986). Teacher education and the politics of engagement: The case for democratic schooling. Harvard Educational Review, 56(3), 213–39. Gur-Ze’ev, I. (2001). Philosophy of peace education in a postmodern era. Educational Theory, 51(3), 315–36. Harris, I. (2004). Peace education theory. Journal of Peace Education, 1(1), 5–20. Harris, I. & Morrison, M. (2013). Peace Education (3rd Ed.). Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Co. Lederach, J. (2005). The Moral Imagination. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Mac Ginty, R., & Richmond, O. P. (2007). Myth or reality: Opposing views on the liberal peace and post-war reconstruction. Global Society 21(2), 491–7. Paris, R. (2002). International peacebuilding and the “mission civilisatrice,” Review of International Studies, 28(4), 637–56. Quijano, A. (2000). Coloniality of power, Eurocentrism, and Latin America. Nepantla: Views from the South, 1(3), 533–80. Reardon, B. (1988). Comprehensive Peace Education: Educating for Global Responsibility. New York: Teachers College Press. Reardon, B. (2013). Meditating on the barricades: Concerns, cautions, and possibilities for peace education for political efficacy. In P. Trifonas & B. Wright (Eds.), Critical Peace Education: Difficult Dialogues (pp. 1–28). New York: Springer. Reynolds, G. (2017). Why breathing may keep us calm. New York Times. Apr. 5. https://mobile. nytimes.com/2017/04/05/well/move/what-chill-mice-can-teach-us-about-keeping-calm. html?smid=tw-nytimes&smtyp=cur&_r=0&referer= Richmond, O. P. (2005). The Transformation of Peace. Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan. Richmond, O. P., & Mac Ginty, R. (2007). The liberal peace and post-war reconstruction, Global Society, 21(2), 491–7. Salomon, G. (2004). Comment: What is peace education? Journal of Peace Education, 1(1), 123–7.

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Katerina Standish Salomon, G., & Nevo, B. (2002). Peace Education: The Concept, Principles, and Practices around the World. Mahwah: NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates Publishers. Salmi, J. (2006). Violence, democracy, and education: An analytic framework. In E. Roberts-Schweitzer, V. Greaney, & K. Duer (Eds.), Promoting Social Cohesion through Education: Case Studies and Tools for Using Textbooks and Curricula (pp. 9–28). Washington, DC: World Bank. Snauwaert, D. (2011). Social justice and the philosophical foundations of critical peace education: Exploring Nussbaum, Sen, and Freire, Journal of Peace Education, 8(3), 315–31. Standish, K. (2014). Cultural nonviolence: The other side of Galtung. Global Journal of Peace Research and Praxis, 1(1), 46–54. Standish, K., & Joyce, J (2018). Yogic Peace Education: Theory and Practice. Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Co. Trifonas, P., & Wright, B. (2013). Introduction. In P. Trifonas & B. Wright (Eds.), Critical Peace Education: Difficult Dialogues (pp. xiii–xx). New York: Springer.

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PART VII

International conflict transformation and peacebuilding

31 CONFLICT METANARRATIVES AND PEACEBUILDING Stephen Ryan

Building peace after destructive conflict is never easy. Violence impacts societies in a number of ways. These include militarization, increased ethnocentrism, residential isolation, the enemy image, demonization, a sense of alienation, and economic and political underdevelopment (Ryan, 2007). There are problems of short-term thinking based on political expediency and there is the human tendency to resist complexity and ambiguity. The original conflicts of interest that caused the problem in the first place may not be adequately addressed. There will be hurt, anger, and guilt about past events on the part of both survivors and perpetrators. But whereas the survivors may seek a process of truth recovery, perpetrators might prefer to hide their misdeeds. In such circumstances building a consensus about how to move forward is fraught with difficulties. The interest in metanarratives in peace and conflict research may assist the complex task of peacebuilding in at least three ways. The first is a legacy of the postmodern turn in the social sciences in the past decades. So Lyotard (1979) famously declared himself “incredulous” toward metanarratives that claim universal truths and legitimize power, and suggested localized narratives replace them. There are clear implications here for peacebuilding. Lyotard’s idea of paralogy, the claim that meaning is a state of ongoing creation through conversation, has obvious affinities with, for example, the concept of both elicitive peacebuilding (Lederach, 1995) and the notion of “hybridity” in peacebuilding (see Mac Ginty & Sanghera, 2012; Richmond & Mitchell, 2012). Second, metanarratives also appear in the concept of meta-conflict. These are situations where there is a conflict about what the conflict is about. Is it, for example, an ethnic conflict or a war of liberation against a colonial power? Is it a religious crusade or a war against terror? The belief is that such fundamental differences of perspective make it harder to promote effective peacebuilding because there will be strong and competing worldviews constructed in an antagonistic manner and there will be few common coordinates that the parties can agree on. Galtung (2000, pp. 10–11), for example, has noted that “the meta-conflict is often used to decide the root conflict,” and that it is hard to find win–win outcomes at the meta level because it is about who wins. Auerbach (2010), who has explored the role of metanarratives in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict, reinforces the idea that they bolster conflict, noting that this is a “conflict over identity, anchored in opposing metanarratives and national narratives, and is therefore difficult to resolve” (p. 99). In this chapter the Cyprus case is used to illustrate a situation where a shift of focus to the meta-conflict might add to an understanding of intractability. 373

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A third way metanarratives are of interest to peacebuilding is the idea of “going meta.” This process originates in mathematics and computer science to refer to a method of stepping back from the immediate problem to understand what is influencing the presenting issues. It requires analysts to engage in upleveling or zooming out as a way of enhancing problemsolving competences (Hofstadter, 1979). We can see examples of this in peace thinking. The familiar strategy in conflict resolution to move from positions to interests seems to fit here (see Fisher & Ury, 1981). So does Burton’s (1990) idea that we can construct a new paradigm for a generic theory of conflict resolution based on the idea of basic human needs.

What is a conflict metanarrative? The concept of the conflict metanarrative may not be easy to define. It is not strictly a metanarrative in the sense used by Lyotard (1979). It is more contextualized and focused on a conflict per se than a grand narrative. But it may be linked to grand narratives such as good vs. evil, civilized vs. uncivilized, rational vs. irrational, and just vs. unjust. So a metanarrative is more than just the story of the conflict, for it includes a strong normative dimension drawing on deep culture, historic memories, and self-justifications. As Das (2007) points out, “if the process of naming the violence presents a challenge, it is because such naming has large political stakes, and not only because language falters in the face of violence” (p. 205). The main characteristics of metanarratives seem to be as follows. The first is the focus on deep-frames rather than immediate issues. It is what Lyotard (1979) called the story about the story. The focus on metanarratives brings to the foreground what is normally in the background. It sets criteria for judging right and wrong and prejudges what facts and interpretations are relevant and significant. It tries to tell us what to remember and what to forget. All conflict metanarratives will contain elements of “truth.” The parties can usually select enough information from a complex conflict situation to support and sustain their side of the meta-conflict. Moving beyond an existing metanarrative will probably involve some act that challenges basic beliefs and which the community might regard as transgressive. It will mean crossing what Boulding (1995) called the taboo line. The notion of the metanarrative offers one way of measuring the extent of transformation in a situation of protracted conflict, for one indication of whether a conflict is being transformed is the extent to which existing metanarratives are altered. Metanarratives have an instrumental purpose. They are used to promote the perceived selfinterests of the people who advocate them. This prompts a difficult question. Does the metanarrative frame the interest or does the interest produce the metanarrative? If it is both, then we still need to understand the relative importance of each factor. The question is important because one way of deconstructing conflict metanarratives might be to point out how they are working against self-interest. As already suggested, the analysis draws on two main cases. The first is Cyprus, which has been bogged down in endless rounds of negotiations since 1964. The second is Northern Ireland, which is generally considered a successful example of conflict resolution following the Belfast Agreement of 1998. Both cases share some obvious similarities (Breen, 1990). Both are islands that have experienced intractable intercommunal conflicts between a majority and minority. Both islands were formerly ruled by the United Kingdom (UK). Both have experimented with consociational government. The one in Cyprus broke down within three years of independence. The jury is still out on the Northern Ireland experiment, though some problems have been identified (Byrne, 2001; Taylor, 2006). 374

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The meta-conflict in Cyprus The intercommunal conflict on the island of Cyprus remains one of the most intractable in the contemporary world. It has, to date, resisted the best efforts of the United Nations (UN), North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) (both Greece and Turkey are members), and numerous track-2 initiatives. It has persisted despite the end of the Cold War, which unfroze some other protracted cases, and what Michael (2007) has called the “EU-ization” of the conflict, culminating in Cypriot membership in 2004. There are, of course, several factors that contribute to the intractability. One reason is the problem of the double minority, something shared with the Northern Ireland conflict (Jackson, 1979; Oliver 1984). Another issue is the historic tensions between the mother states of Greece and Turkey. This mother-state antagonism was also the case in Northern Ireland, but British– Irish relations have mellowed in recent years, facilitated by joint membership of the European Union (EU) (Laffan & Tonra, 2010). Another reason is the asymmetric nature of the conflict. This means that the status of the parties is not the same as one side is officially recognized as the legitimate government, but the other, even though it is in de facto control of disputed territory, is not. There are similar situations in the Georgian conflict with Abkhazia and South Ossetia, and the Moldova-Transdniester dispute. Such asymmetric conflicts are often very difficult to resolve because they raise issues about the very legitimacy of one of the parties. Whilst not denying the importance of these factors, this chapter argues that an important element underlying the intractability is the competing metanarratives about the conflict. The Greek Cypriot view of the Cyprus conflict is that the two communities could have lived together in peace if only they had been left alone to settle their differences. Depending on the commentator the guilty party could be: the UK’s imperial policy of divide and rule; the United States (US) and especially the policies of Henry Kissinger; Turkey and its Ottoman legacies; Greece during the Colonels’ regime; or various combinations of these. Illustrations of this position are easy to find in studies published after the breakdown of the new Cyprus state in 1964 and the partition of the island in 1974. Markides (1977), for example, believes that it is “axiomatic that the major responsibility for the destruction of Cyprus lies outside Cyprus . . . in the corridors of international power politics where small people are unimportant and therefore expendable” (pp. xiv–xv). Pollis (1979) concurs, believing that “the principle determining factors for ethnic conflict have not been cultural or religious differences, but the policies pursued by interested powers external to Cyprus” (p. 73). This metanarrative can lead to some explicit or implicit claims about the conflict. One would be that there was a natural harmony between the communities on the island that was destroyed by external forces. There is, therefore, no need to accept a solution based on the separation of the communities and a settlement that allows the parties to mix freely can be self-sustaining. To support this position it is also necessary to claim that the Turkish Cypriots did not cause the conflict. So Greek Cypriot anger is often directed more at Turkey than the Turkish Cypriots. Of course, there is some truth to the Greek Cypriot position. External powers have played a disruptive role on the island and it has been a “pawn in the dangerous game” of global politics (Mallinson, 2008, p. xx). However, a metanarrative that tries to blame everything on outside forces is not something that is easy to sustain. In particular the Greek Cypriot position underplays the impact of Hellenic nationalism on intercommunal relations, and in particular the Greek Cypriot desire for enosis (union with Greece). The Greek Cypriot position, then, seems to underplay the real conflict that already existed between the Cypriot communities. It is this that the Turkish Cypriot metanarrative focuses on. Put simply it claims that there was a real conflict between the communities because the Greek 375

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Cypriots wanted enosis and the Turkish Cypriots did not. So Greek Cypriot calls for a union with Greece were countered by Turkish demands for greater segregation, including taxim (partition). Hence a former Turkish Cypriot leader could claim: We have not been able to settle the Cyprus problem . . . because the problem was artificially created with a view to attaining a specific goal, namely the abrogation of the 1960 Treaties, and attaining enosis via self-determination for the Greek Cypriots. (Denktash, 1972, p. 65) A key feature of the Turkish Cypriot metanarrative is that the partition of the island by the Turkish military was the “only possible solution” (Turkish Prime Minster Ecevit, quoted in the New York Times, August 18, 1974). To counter this Attalides (1979) has referred to the “traditional coexistence” between the communities (p. 80). Loizos (1976) concurs with this assessment, claiming that, “although there has been some consciousness of difference, and sometimes antagonism and mistrust, the ordinary people have never found it hard to ‘live together’” (p. 14). Nonetheless, there are clear differences between the communities about what a desirable solution should be. In a poll carried out by Al Jazeera (2014), when asked, “how happy will you be with a solution made up of two federal states” (i.e., a degree of constitutional separation), 75 percent of Turkish Cypriots said they would be happy or very happy, but 64 percent of Greek Cypriots said they would be unhappy or very unhappy with such an outcome. There is another obvious problem with the traditional Turkish Cypriot metanarrative. For today the enosis issue is not as significant for Greek Cypriots as it was in the years immediately before and after independence. Indeed, successive interlocutors have committed their community to a solution based on an independent Cyprus not joined to Greece. However, Turkish Cypriots remain sensitive about this issue. In early 2017 the Cyprus Parliament introduced a new law to allow the celebration in schools of the 1950 referendum, when Greek Cypriots voted overwhelmingly for enosis. Not all the Greek Cypriot political parties supported this. However, it provoked calls from Turkish Cypriot leaders for the law to be annulled and the Turkish Foreign Ministry issued a statement condemning the move. The Turkish Cypriot President Akinci stated that, “If you take the root cause of such conflict, ‘Enosis’, and vote to commemorate it, you must understand that it will cause great indignation among the Turkish Cypriots” (TRNC Public Information Office, 2017). We have seen that there are two competing frameworks of understanding about the nature of the Cyprus conflict. For the Greek Cypriots, appropriately, the Cyprus problem is like a Greek tragedy of inevitability where the main characters are doomed by external forces, in this case gods who are playing out their personal rivalries on Earth. Thus, the Cypriots are the human sacrifices on the altars of the national interests of the powers. On the other hand, the Turkish Cypriots see Cyprus more as a Shakespearian drama of possibility, where the tragedy arises out of inner forces that manifest themselves as the personal flaws of the principal actors (Macbeth’s ambition, Hamlet’s indecisiveness, Othello’s jealousy). In the Cyprus case, of course, the perceived character flaw is the insensitivity of Greek Cypriots to the impact that their desire for enosis had on intercommunal relations. We have also suggested that neither metanarrative tells the whole story. What we have are two partial explanations masquerading as a total one. The Greek Cypriot metanarrative is suspect because it directs analysis only to the international level and does not give proper weight to the role that enosis played in creating distrust between both communities. On the other hand, the Turkish Cypriot metanarrative may be distorted because it overestimates the Greek Cypriot desire for enosis and so understates the possibility of better Greek–Turkish relations on the island. Each view can, and should, be challenged. 376

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Northern Ireland and the metanarrative of a shared future Unlike the frozen Cyprus conflict, the Northern Ireland case is often regarded as a successful example of conflict resolution.1 Wolff (2003) notes the successes of this process: the creation of new political institutions; significant demilitarization; a large decrease in violent incidents; police reform and prisoner release; an increase in the number of intra and cross-communal institutions; and more optimistic perceptions about the security situation. However, it should also be noted that performance in the following areas has been disappointing: the share of the vote going to moderate parties has declined; the functioning of political institutions has been criticized; economic growth rates have declined after the 2008 global financial crisis leading to funding problems; and levels of segregation in housing, education, and social contact remain very high. But whether we should regard Northern Ireland as a great success or not, the 1998 Belfast Agreement (BA) created what Zerubavel (2003) called a “historical discontinuity” that posits two distinct periods in common narratives, with the 1998 BA sold to the public as the start of a new era. Of course, the idea that 1998 was a fundamental turning point is too simplistic. The rejectionist Republican paramilitaries such as the New IRA see it as a sell-out that does not fundamentally change the situation on the ground. Others, like Sinn Fein, support the BA but try to rework it into well-established Republican narratives about reunification. The Democratic Unionist Party viewed the 1998 BA as a sell-out it reversed through a less wellknown agreement at St Andrews in 2006. So, for them, the new era started eight years after 1998. Notwithstanding these qualifications, interested governments and others have tried to create a new metanarrative based on the idea of a “shared future” that became possible sometime after 1998. The official focus on this shared future is reflected in the language of strategy documents that have emerged from the powersharing executive in Northern Ireland over the past 15 years or so. So the Together: Building a United Community document (Office of the First Minister and Deputy First Minister, 2013) uses the word “shared” 197 times in 116 pages. The word “together” is used a further 48 times. A cynic might conclude that the official position on peacebuilding in Northern Ireland involves placing the adjective “shared” in front of every significant policy area without any deep reflection about the fundamental challenges to basic presumptions and underlying positions this denotes. There are some problems with the official approach. First, the old, pre-1998 metanarratives are proving to be tenacious and resistant to revision. Second, there has been no forum such as a truth commission within which to consolidate the new metanarrative. So the process of truth recovery, by necessity, has been more fragmented and ad hoc. Dawson (2007) claims the piecemeal approach has struggled to reconcile the two main competing metanarratives about the past and although the political landscape has improved, the symbolic landscapes based on the past persist and “the terrain of the past has remained a battlefield” (p. 84). Third, this new metanarrative may not be the best option for Northern Ireland, which remains a society with a difficult present, a contested past, and a lack of consensus about the future (Ryan, 2010, 2016). It resembles what Sen (2007) called “plural monoculturalism” not true multiculturalism. It is also a society where the past “does not have a feeling of pastness about it” (Das, 2007, p. 97). A report by Amnesty International (2013) reinforces this perspective by claiming that the approaches adopted by the devolved government to deal with the past are flawed and fragmented and characterized by a basic lack of political will. So maybe it is no surprise that Aughey (2005) could state that “the peace process may have produced an Agreement, but no agreement about the ends of that Agreement” (p. 41). 377

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Instead of looking at what has happened in Northern Ireland from the questionable assumption of a shared future, with its implicit view of the past as a problem, or as an excuse for failures in the present, it might be better to look at the past as a learning opportunity to promote tolerance of diversity. What Northern Ireland may need is a series of micronarratives rather than an official narrative of a shared future. This would be consistent with the promotion of grassroots empowerment, respect for diversity, recognition of alternative viewpoints, creativity, and empathy. Such thoughts direct us to the question of how we address the problem of conflict metanarratives.

Responding to conflict metanarratives Three ideas are discussed: (1) the building of new and peaceful metanarratives, (2) the call to abandon metanarratives altogether in favor of a plurality of micro-narratives, and (3) what can be called a modus vivendi-plus that is sympathetic to the development of micro-narratives, but would question the idea that we can just leave them unexamined. Rather we should seek to find ways to build on them to create more peaceful societies. The first approach, building new metanarratives, aims to neutralize destructive mindsets through constructing more peaceful ones. We have already noted that in the field of conflict analysis the best known example would be the proposal by Burton (1990) in a series of books that a win–lose mentality based on power politics could be replaced by a win–win discourse based on basic needs analysis. This, he proposes, would open the way for true conflict resolution based on the mutual satisfaction of a specific set of needs such as security and identity. The Northern Ireland case shows that there is some validity in Burton’s idea of a paradigm shift to a basic needs approach away from approaches based on power or the law. The BA was facilitated by a shift from constitutional questions to what was called the “equality agenda”. However, this case also shows how hard it can be even after a peace deal to build and sustain a new peaceful metanarrative based on individual human need. Several hurdles suggest themselves. The first is the emotional power and tenacity of the previous metanarratives. There may also be problems agreeing how to prioritize needs when there are different demands from constituents and serious funding constraints. So, to mention a recent actual case, should funding be given to support children wanting to learn the Irish language or should it go to help buy instruments for Protestant bands that play a vital role in that culture? We should also note that no single metanarrative has ever received general acceptance in the Northern Ireland case, whether this be one based on Britishness, Irishness, post-nationalism, or class or regional identity. The Cyprus case also reveals the difficulties involved in building new thinking. Before hopes were dashed by the Greek Cypriot rejection of the Annan peace plan there was optimism that the EU could improve the intercommunal conflict on the island. Michael (2007), for example, hoped that the EU could play a transformative role if it was able to promote intercommunal dialogue and integration in a sensitive and sustained manner. This has not happened to date. The Rwandan case raises another problem with new metanarratives when peacebuilding. Concern has been expressed by some commentators that the approach adopted by the postgenocide government, dominated by the Tutsi-led RPF, is too oppressive. Its main theme has been an emphasis on a “Rwandan” identity metanarrative that delegitimizes separate ethnic identities. Moss (2014) looks at how such a “single recategorization model” is justified by its supporters but also examines critics of the approach who fear it may increase intergroup conflict in the longer term. Adherents who argue that all metanarratives are problematic often believe metanarratives are linked to projects of dominance and power. Or they may be the product of unwelcome aspects 378

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of modernity. Virilio (2000), for example, is concerned with what he has called the “dramaturgy of real time” (p. 123). He is worried that this shallow approach will result in “delocalization” and the “disqualification of distance.” He posits an “omnipresent centre” that obstructs genuine engagement with the past and so precludes the option of genuine remorse. The dramaturgy of real time therefore threatens that specific conflicts will be torn out of their local contexts to become part of a total but superficial discourse formed by 24-hour rolling news and ill-informed commentators who lack the depth of understanding of the conflicts they report on. In this way superficial elite accommodation can be mistaken for real transformation and a one-size-fits-all template is imposed on all conflicts despite significant differences from case to case. This is a criticism often directed at liberal peacebuilding, which in Lederach’s (1995) terminology has been too prescriptive rather than elicitive. If we follow Lyotard’s (1979) advice then the way forward seems clear. It would be to reject the idea of a grand/meta narrative and to accept and welcome the existence of a diversity of approaches. The deconstructing of metanarratives could encourage an acceptance of everyone’s story. Each narrative would provide its own legitimacy/validity and would not need an overarching theoretical, and contested, underpinning. Rorty (1991, p. 43) explains it as follows. The desire for communication, harmony, interchange, conversation, social solidarity, and the “merely” beautiful, wants to bring the philosophical tradition to an end because it sees the attempt to provide metanarratives, even metanarratives of emancipation, as an unhelpful distraction from what Dewey calls “the meaning of the daily detail.” However, the Cyprus case shows that a plurality of viewpoints cannot guarantee an effective peace. Nor can a general acceptance of micro-narratives help us decide between explanations when they contradict one another. In the midst of conflicts can communities really tolerate mutually incompatible viewpoints? Or can any society tolerate narratives that actually reject tolerance of others? Gellner (1995), believing that “meanings are a problem and not a solution,” warns about the dangers of a “certain facile and self-congratulatory relativism” (pp. 21–2). Does a strong relativism not result in what he called an unhinged signpost at the very time that conflict areas are seeking directions away from violence? The third option would be to accept the need to start with the idea of plurality of micronarratives, but to find ways of enhancing this through positive actions. Gray (2010), who has championed the idea of a modus vivendi, decries the trend in thought and practice to move away from the idea that politics is best viewed as a dialogue. He is attracted to Oakshott’s idea of politics “as a conversation in which the collision of opinions is moderated and accommodated, in which what is sought is not truth but peace” (Gray, 2010, p. 80). In such a “civil association” people embrace different ends but have built rules to allow them to coexist in peace. The motive for this could be the existence of “pan-cultural goods and evils” around which a modus vivendi can be built (Gray, 2010, p. 331). One approach would focus on attempts to build generally accepted principles of validity. These are often based on ideas of rationality. So, in the work of Rawls (1971), there are the two principles of justice arising out of the original position. Or there is the faith placed by Habermas (1984, 1987) in communicative consensus and the ideal speech situation free of power considerations. Another approach, skeptical of strategies based on rationality, can be found in the work of Richard Rorty (1989), where the focus is on empathy and solidarity. As a pragmatist he is comfortable with rejecting the idea of a single “truth,” but has worried about how we then build solidarity between groups. His focus is on language, which he views as a mechanism not to obtain veracity but to contribute to conversations of improvement and self-formation. Key 379

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here is the capacity to imagine “strange people as fellow sufferers” and moral progress is about building sympathy or flexible sentimentality not “rigorous rationality.” This he believes is work for artists and not philosophers. If Rorty is correct then one significant problem facing peacebuilding is a failure of imagination and creativity, which is itself a symptom of an inability to invent new vocabularies that can liberate us from the past. Ryan (2007) argues that if we marry Rorty’s idea of sentimental education with what Elise Boulding (1990) called “learning sites” and introduce them to the main agents of cultural reproduction in society then we have a better chance of building real solidarity between different groups of people and for creating counternarratives that are liberating and avoid tunnel vision and simplistic and self-justifying accounts of conflicts. Suitable areas for focus would be education (from early years on and including the family), the arts, religious institutions, and the media (in all their forms). Auerbach (2010) is also skeptical that a focus on metanarratives will yield positive results and proposes that dialogues take place over “national narratives” that are more likely to evoke empathy. He writes: If and when people are ready, however, to come down from the symbolic peaks of the conflict . . . then the story becomes more human and takes on universal significance. . . . Familiarity with the stories of the other side and awareness of its suffering are necessary cognitive stages in the process of reducing the conflict over identity. It can produce emotional empathy and lead to political action, such as compensation and apologies by leaders of both sides. (p. 126) Another interesting idea is “critical memory.” In the Northern Ireland case a decade of significant anniversaries is now under way, ending with the centenary of the creation of Northern Ireland in 1921. Imaginative, critical, and creative ways of dealing with these anniversaries do offer opportunities to introduce informed reflection and help avoid what Zerubavel (2003) terms “mnemonic battles” over “time maps” (p. 110). He suggests only “a pronouncedly multiperspectival look at several such ‘maps’ together can provide us with a complete picture of the inevitably multi-layered, multifaceted social topography of the past” (p. 110). This could then assist in the development of greater tolerance in the present. Bleiker and Hoang (2006) note in their study of memory and the Korean war that recognizing the “inherently contestable dimension of history is one of the most important ways of overcoming the cycle of violence” on the peninsula (p. 204). Critical memory would also require an analysis that does not just focus on what Galtung (1996) called direct violence, but also examines the structural and cultural violence out of which direct violence can emerge. In a study of liberalization, Gellner (1979) warned that the “impulsion to go too far of course generates or reinforces the contrary impulsion to go nowhere at all, or even to retreat” (p. 332). The spectacular failures of the “liberal” peacebuilding metanarrative at the start of the 21st century, combined with worries about cultural imperialism, may have encouraged a move towards a distrust of peacebuilding in general. A critical reappraisal of peacebuilding thinking may not be a bad thing, but the abandonment of liberal approaches altogether may not be warranted. The Clinton–Blair–Bush weaponized approach that is both messianic in tone and violent in practice is not the only possible version of liberal peacebuilding. We can, and should, avoid what Teju Cole (2017) called the “White savior industrial complex,” whose members can support both brutality and charitable work at the same time. There are other options available. Some like Habermas (1984, 1987) advocate conversations based on rational thought and Enlightenment values, believing in the power of the better argument. Others such as Rorty 380

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(1989) point towards alternatives that are more non-rational, anti-foundationalist, and pluralist. It is not clear if it is possible to prejudge a priori which approach will work best in a specific conflict. Therefore, we should keep an open mind as world society struggles to re-energize its fading commitment to productive interventions in ongoing and devastating conflicts.

Note 1 This section draws on a more detailed discussion in Ryan (2015).

References Al Jazeera (2014). Cyprus’ future: Unity or division? www.aljazeera.com/indepth/interactive/2014/07/ cyprus-future-unity-division-20147198124976694.html Amnesty International (2013). Northern Ireland: Time to Deal with the Past. London: Amnesty International. Attalides, M. (1979). Cyprus: Nationalism and International Politics. Edinburgh, UK: Q Press. Aughey, A. (2005). The Politics of Northern Ireland: Beyond the Belfast Agreement. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Auerbach, Y. (2010). National narratives in a conflict of identity. In Y. Bar-Siman Tov (Ed.), Barriers to Peace in the Israeli–Palestinian Conflict (pp. 99–134). Jerusalem, Israel: Jerusalem Institute for Israel Studies. Bleiker, R., & Hoang, Y (2006). Remembering and forgetting the Korean war. In D. Bell (Ed.), Memory, Trauma and World Politics (pp. 195–212). Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan. Boulding, E. (1990). Building a Global Civic Culture: Education for an Interdependent World. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press. Boulding, K. (1995). Moving from unstable to stable peace. In E. Boulding & K. Boulding (Eds.), The Future: Images and Processes (pp. 76–87). London: Sage. Breen, E. (1990). The Three Islands: International Agreements in Northern Ireland, Cyprus, and Sri Lanka. Belfast, UK: Queen’s University Belfast. Burton, J. W. (Ed.) (1990), Conflict: Human Needs Theory. Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan. Byrne, S. (2001). Consociational and civic society approaches to peacebuilding in Northern Ireland. Journal of Peace Research, 38(3), 327–52. Cole, T. (2016). The white savior industrial complex. In T. Cole, (Ed.), Known and Strange Things (pp. 340–9). New York: Random House. Das, V. (2007). Life and Words: Violence and the Descent into the Ordinary. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Dawson, G. (2007). Making Peace with the Past: Memory, Trauma and the Irish Troubles. Manchester, UK: Manchester University Press. Denktash, R. (1972). A Short Discourse on Cyprus. Nicosia: (n.publ.). Denktash, R. (1982). The Cyprus Triangle. Nicosia, Cyprus: K. Rustem Brothers and Allen & Unwin. Fisher, R., & Ury, W. L. (1981). Getting to Yes. New York: Penguin. Galtung, J. (1996). Peace by Peaceful Means. London: Sage. Galtung, J. (2000). Conflict Transformation by Peaceful Means (The Transcend Method). New York: United Nations. Gellner, E. (1979). Spectacles and Predicaments: Essays in Social Theory. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Gellner, E. (1995). The politics of anthropology. In E. Gellner (Ed.), Anthropology and Politics: Revolutions in the Sacred Grove (pp. 11–26). Oxford, UK: Blackwell. Gray, J. (2000). Pluralism and toleration in contemporary political philosophy. Political Studies, 48(2), 323–33. Gray, J. (2010). Oakshott as a liberal. In J. Gray (Ed.) Gray’s Anatomy: Selected Writings (pp. 78–88). Harmondsworth, UK: Penguin. Habermas, J. (1984). The Theory of Communicative Action: Reason and the Rationalisation of Society, Vol. 1. Boston, MA: Beacon Press. Habermas, J. (1987). The Theory of Communicative Action: The Critique of Functionalist Reason, Vol. 2. Boston, MA: Beacon Press. Hofstadter, D. (1979). Gödel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid. New York: Basic Books. Jackson, H. (1979). The Two-Irelands: The Problem of the Double Minority. London: Minority Rights Group.

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Stephen Ryan Laffan, B., & Tonra, B. (2010). Europe and the international dimension. In J. Coakley and M. Gallagher (Eds.), Politics in the Republic of Ireland (5th Ed., pp. 407–33). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Lederach, J. P. (1995). Preparing for Peace: Conflict Transformation across Cultures. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press. Loizos, P. (1976). Cyprus: Minority Rights Report 30. London: Minority Rights Group. Lyotard, J.-F. (1979). The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge. Manchester, UK: Manchester University Press. Trans. from French by G. Bennington and B. Massumi. Mallinson, W. (2008). Cyprus: A Modern History. London: I. B. Tauris, Markides, K. C. (1977). The Rise and Fall of the Cyprus Republic. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Mac Ginty, R. & Sanghera, G. S. (2012). Hybridity in peacebuilding and development: An introduction. Journal of Peacebuilding and Development, 7(2), 3–8. Moss, S. M. (2014). Beyond conflict and spoilt identities: How Rwandan leaders justify a single recategorization model for post-conflict reconciliation. Journal of Social and Political Psychology, 2(1), 435–49. Michael, M. S. (2007). The Cyprus peace talks: A critical appraisal. Journal of Peace Research, 44(5), 587–604. Office of the First Minister and Deputy First Minister (2013). Together: Building a United Community. Belfast: Office of the First Minister and Deputy First Minister. www.executiveoffice-ni.gov.uk/ articles/together-building-united-community Oliver, R. (1984). Introduction: The minority rights group: What’s in a name. In B. Whitaker (Ed.), Minorities: A Question of Human Rights (pp. 1–10). Oxford, UK: Pergamon Press. Pollis, A. (1979). Colonialism and neo-colonialism: Determinants of ethnic conflict in Cyprus. In P. Worsley & P. Kitromilides (Eds.), Small States in the Modern World: Conditions of Survival (Rev. Ed., pp. 45–80). Nicosia, Cyprus: New Cyprus Association and Cyprus Geographical Association. Rawls, J. (1971). A Theory of Justice. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Richmond, O. P. and Mitchell, A. (Eds.) (2012). Hybrid Forms of Peace: From Everyday Agency to PostLiberalism. Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan. Rorty, R. (1989). Contingency, Irony and Solidarity. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Rorty, R. (1991). Habermas and Lyotard on post-modernity. In R. Rorty (Ed.), Essays on Heidegger and Others (pp. 164–76). Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press. Ryan, S. (2007). The Transformation of Violent Intercommunal Conflict. Aldershot, UK: Ashgate. Ryan, S. (2010). Peacebuilding in Northern Ireland: The past, present and future. Peace and Conflict Studies, 17(1), 71–100. Ryan, S. (2016). Dealing with the past in Northern Ireland. In E. A. Burgos (Ed.), Conflicto armado, justicia y memoria (pp. 157–81). Medellin, Colombia: Universidad Pontificia Bolivariana. Sen, A. (2007). Identity and Violence. Harmondsworth, UK: Penguin. Taylor, R. (2006). The Belfast Agreement and the politics of consociationalism: A critique. Political Quarterly, 77(2), 217–26. TRNC Public Information Office (2017). ‘Akıncı: “Negotiations have stalled due to the Greek Cypriot side’s refusal to accept political equality’”. http://pio.mfa.gov.ct.tr/en/akinci-negotiationshave-stalled-due-to-the-greek-cypriot-sides-refusal-to-accept-political-equality/ Virilio, P. (2000). The Information Bomb. London: Verso. Wolff, S. (2003). Conclusion: The peace process since 1998. In J. Neuheiser & S. Wolff (Eds.), Peace at Last? The Impact of the Good Friday Agreement on Northern Ireland (pp. 205–32). New York: Berghahn Books. Zerubavel, E. (2003). Time Maps: Collective Memory and the Social Shape of the Past. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

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32 ENGAGING THE ROOT CAUSES OF PAST VIOLENCE IN IRELAND Ethical education for liberation Johnston McMaster and Cathy Higgins Ireland is currently engaged with a decade of centenaries. Commemorations are being held to mark a series of events that took place between the years 1912 and 1922. They begin with Unionists signing a politico-religious Ulster Covenant as an act of resistance to the British government’s Bill to give a Home Rule Parliament to Ireland. The decade ended in 1923 with the Irish Civil War fought between pro-Treaty and anti-Treaty forces. The partition of Ireland had occurred in 1921 with the establishment of two new states in Ireland. It was a crucial decade in Irish history. What happened shaped Ireland for the rest of the 20th century and still casts a long shadow over relationships on the island of Ireland and between Ireland and Britain. The Ethical and Shared Remembering Program (2006–7) was run through the Junction Derry/Londonderry, whose director is Maureen Hetherington. Key themes crucial for dealing with the past, present, and future have emerged from program events to date, and new themes will surface as participants critically engage this educational approach.

The praxis of ethical and shared remembering Processing the complex and contextual historic events of 1912 to 1922 required a methodology that was educational, interactive, exploratory, and, above all, ethical. Ireland may not be alone in having a surplus of memory, or more memory than it can deal with. History is contested. There is no one agreed narrative of Irish history, but rather Irish histories are contested and complex. Many want to simplify the narratives, reducing history to narrative simplism. There are also introverted narratives, turned in on themselves and not short on victimhood. History is often mythologized and myth historicized. History deals with interpretation, not facts. Commemoration has more to do with present angst and needs than the past. History becomes a prison rather than a prism through which hard lessons are learned and imagination becomes future orientated. Ethical and Shared Remembering developed methodological frameworks to remember in context, the whole decade, the future, ethically, and together. The heart of the methodological framework is remembering ethically. The point in the Irish context of remembering the whole decade is that there is the frequent bent towards cherry-picking one’s way through the decade’s events. There is a failure to realize that there is a symbiotic relationship between all of the events. Cherry-picking is a dishonest and irresponsible way to deal with complex history. 383

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Remembering together is about walking through history together, not one sector of the divided community reading history through its own limited and biased lens. The approach to the rest of the decade, 1917–22, will be thematic. Complex history will still be explored but mainly through identified themes, which will form the core of the program, its development, and delivery.

Remembering ethically through narrative hospitality Ethical remembering acknowledges the destructiveness of violence and its destructive and debilitating legacy. It builds a different, de-militarized political future. At its heart is narrative hospitality adapted from Richard Kearney, who teaches at Boston University. Kearney (2007) brought the idea to a chapter on Interreligious Dialogue, which he introduced with the words, “I come from a country – Ireland – where people have been killing each other for centuries in the name of God” (p. 47). He concluded with a hermeneutic of tolerance, which he offered as a “basis for an ethic of narrative hospitality” (Kearney, 2007, p. 52). Kearney’s ethic was at least three-dimensional – narrative hospitality, narrative flexibility, and narrative plurality. As a hermeneutic for interreligious dialogue, could this be adapted as a hermeneutic of historical remembering and provide a prism to critically and ethically appraise the game-changing events in Ireland one hundred years ago?

Narrative hospitality Centuries of religious and political sectarianism have ensured that Irish people are strangers to each other, even antagonistic strangers. Narrative hospitality is the generous openness to each other and the readiness to hear each other’s narrative. There are multiple narratives from 1912 to 1922 and from the more recent phase of violent conflict, and narrative hospitality is the generosity of spirit to hear the narratives, the contested versions of Irish history, especially those outside our conditioned and tribally constructed historical and narrative framework. Generosity and openness are the marks of narrative hospitality.

Narrative flexibility This enables the recognition that there is more than one narrative. Ideology, politics, and religion will try to delude us into thinking that there is a mono story or a grand metanarrative. There is still in Ireland a battle for the dominant narrative, the single narrative that is the norm, whether it is the narrative of 1912–22, or the years following 1969. There are those on all sides who still prefer the inflexible narrative, one shaped by certitudes, absolutes, and simplism. Narrative flexibility means acknowledging the many and the multiple. It is also the flexibility to recognize that narratives change. New information keeps coming to light, archaeological finds, documents, letters, diaries, which open up new perspectives and understandings of the past. A wealth of material became available in the 1990s, not known before, which has shed new light and changed the narratives. The centenaries of the Easter Rising and the Somme could not be commemorated in the same way as the fiftieth commemorations in 1966. Narrative flexibility is essential to engaging the decade 1912 to 1922.

Narrative plurality A narrative oneness in the approach to history is a denial of complexity. Making an absolute truth claim for the mono narrative is reductionist and a restricted worldview. The past is 384

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always in dispute and always contested and there are no certitudes, absolutes, or objectivity. Plurality is part of life and no individual group, party, or organization, has a 360° vision of history, religion, or anything. As Kearney (2007) said, “pluralism here does not mean any lack of respect for the singularity of any particular religious (historical, our words) event narrated through the various acts of remembrance” (p. 53). Narrative plurality is the openness to recognize the illusion of knowledge, the limitations of vision, and that “our” stories are diverse and plural, and always will be.

Engaging the root causes of past violence in Ireland The gun had already returned to Irish politics in 1912 to 1916. From 1919 to 1922 the gun dominated, destroyed much, and left destructive legacies that shaped mindsets, producing a further three decades of more recent violence and killing. The gun continues to shape militarized mindsets and even a cult of the dead, in which the dead control politics and their “sacrifices” prevent the future. Key themes identify root causes of violence and some signpost a different and perhaps liberated future. There are six themes.

Historical History requires critical appraisal and evaluation. The Easter Rising of April 1916 had been crushed militarily, but when the British military executed 15 of the leaders in May 1916, the tide of Irish nationalist opinion turned and the Rising became the most successful failure in Irish history. The Rising was crushed but it became the game-changer in the Irish nationalist quest for independence. Sinn Fein did not organize, plan, or carry out the Rising but became the chief beneficiaries. The Irish political landscape was showing signs of change through Sinn Fein victories in by-elections and when the British called a December General Election in 1918, Sinn Fein won a landslide victory in Ireland winning 69 of 105 seats. Much of this was down to the conscription crisis, when earlier in the year there was the suggestion that army conscription might be introduced to Ireland. Sinn Fein called for Dáil Éireann to be formed and the Assembly of Ireland met on January 21, 1919. On the same day, without any mandate or authorization, Dan Breen and Sean Tracey of the Third Tipperary Brigade of the Irish Republican Army (IRA) ambushed and shot dead two members of the Royal Irish Constabulary (RIC). It was the beginning of the War of Independence or Anglo-Irish War. It might also be described as a civil war between the IRA and RIC, as Irishmen fought Irishmen, and in the main, Catholic fought Catholic. Torture, burnings, and deaths occurred, often brutal, and the war came to an end with a truce in July 1921. On December 23, 1920, the Government of Ireland Act became law and Ireland was partitioned. Ulster Unionists had opposed Home Rule, but got their version of it, as six Ulster counties became Northern Ireland. Its first Parliament opened on June 22, 1921. King George V in Belfast City Hall opened it, with the King’s speech signaling that it was not meant to last, and issuing a call for Irishmen to forgive and forget and resolve their differences. The truce was called on July 9, 1921, yet there was continued disquiet in Dublin over the political arrangements and the incomplete independence. Negotiations began in London and on December 5, 1921 the Anglo-Irish Treaty was signed. The Treaty was bitterly debated in the Dáil over Christmas, until a small majority ratified it on January 7, 1922. Eamon De Valera led the anti-Treaty members out of the Dáil and Michael Collins became Chair of the Provisional Government of the Irish 385

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Free State. By April 1922 the IRA had repudiated the authority of the Dáil and anti-Treaty forces occupied the Four Courts in Dublin. Encouraged, and with practical assistance from the British, Collins’ forces attacked the Four Courts with much death and destruction. The Civil War had begun and on August 22, 1922, Collins was killed in an ambush in Beal na Blath in West Cork by an anti-Treaty flying column. Families were divided by the Civil War. The legacies remain bitter. Fellow Irishmen executed 77 anti-Treaty Irishmen. How will these events be marked and commemorated in the next few years? Will the founding of Northern Ireland and its Parliament become sectarianized, an event of denial and triumphalism by one side and ignored by the other? How will history be interpreted and will memory be shaped by current angst or illusions? The Civil War will be particularly difficult and sensitive. Generational bitterness still exists and the two political parties that have dominated Republic of Ireland politics are both civil war parties. Can civil war politics end?

Patriarchal Patriarchy, a violent system of male domination, underpinned the war ethos that swept through Europe in the early 20th century resulting in two World Wars. It nurtured the militaristic spirit that imbued Irish culture and politics, particularly in the period 1912 to 1923. Reliance on violence to further ideological ends, a key characteristic of patriarchy, fueled also the guerrilla warfare in the name of Irish independence from Britain that culminated in the 1916 Rising, followed by the War of Independence, and culminating in the Civil War in Ireland. In a patriarchal world order violence and warfare always has an economic basis, sometimes referred to as the “spoils of war”; to the winners go control of land, dominated people, and rich resources. Irish suffragists, like Hanna Sheehy Skeffington, challenged this corrupt economic system in which the majority of workers lived in poverty and substandard conditions that left many vulnerable to disease and death (Ward, 1997, pp. 294–5). Like all suffragists, Sheehy Skeffington’s (1914) primary objective was to expose and challenge a third characteristic of patriarchy, which defined gender in dualistic terms, justified male dominance as natural and God-given, and viewed heterosexuality as the only acceptable sexual identity. From the mid-19th century to the early decades of the 20th century suffragists in Ireland campaigned to change patriarchal laws that discriminated against women and girls. They achieved a measure of success on a number of fronts, challenging significant restrictions to women’s social, political, and economic freedom (Cullen Owens, 2005, p. 6). The divide and rule premise of patriarchy relied on violence, stoking racism, sectarianism, classism, and sexism. One of the most illuminating definitions of patriarchy highlights its reliance on violence to further its ends. For Christ (2016), “patriarchy is a system of male dominance, rooted in the ethos of war, which legitimates violence” (p. 214). Patriarchy has adapted to a changing world thus ensuring its survival but, as Lerner (1986) recognized, its violent and destructive nature has been evident from its earliest manifestations (pp. 8–10). Ethical education for liberation requires attention to historical detail to better understand patriarchy as a root cause of violence. Key to dismantling any system is knowledge of how it operates, why it succeeds, and its weaknesses. The Ethical and Shared Remembering Program provided an opportunity to educate for change and the centenary commemorations became the lens for shared understanding of our past, including our experience of patriarchy as a system. We are in the middle of our decade of centenaries so the opportunity for learning continues. On January 21, 2019 Ireland remembered the events that triggered the War of Independence. How might we acknowledge its patriarchal underpinnings? One obvious way would be to take account of the impact of this conflict on women. 386

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Central to the rise of militancy in Ireland in this decade was a patriarchal conviction that readiness to bear arms for one’s country was the primary qualification of true citizenship. Women denied citizenship on the grounds they did not meet this qualification were keen to remedy the situation. Republican women in Dublin joined two quasi military bodies, the Irish Citizen Army and Cumman na mBan (Irish Women’s Council), and were duly rewarded when women aged 21 years and over were granted citizenship in the Free State Constitution, which came into effect in 1923. This was five years before women in Britain and Northern Ireland were similarly franchised. But as women in both organizations quickly discovered, within the militarized context patriarchy was still alive and well. With a membership of 11,000–12,000, Cumman na mBan played a crucial role ensuring the success of the War of Independence. At all times, however, the women were under the control of the military brotherhood that operated local Irish Volunteer units. The women in Cumann na mBan provided safe houses, food, and clothing for men on the run; nursed the sick and wounded; acted as look-outs and scouts; raided police stations for weapons; carried guns and ammunition to ambush sites; intercepted British intelligence information; and formed guards of honor at funerals. They were rewarded with citizenship because they risked their lives in the service of men and country, maintaining the patriarchal status quo. The loudest condemnation of militarism came from individuals within the suffrage sector. A principal opponent was Frank, the pacifist husband of Hanna Sheehy Skeffington. He recognized patriarchy and militarism were bedfellows and damaged the movement for peace and equality. In an editorial for his suffrage paper, Irish Citizen, written on August 8, 1914, he stipulated, “war and anti-feminism are branches of the same tree – disregard of true life values” (cited in Ryan, 1996, p. 88). As Irish history demonstrates, patriarchy disguises its violence behind the language of peace and security, democracy and citizenship, progress and freedom. In this 21st century world, where the threat of violence and rise of nationalisms is an ever-present reality, the imperative to unmask patriarchy and expose its lies is undeniable. Unless we find a different way of relating that is anti-violence, anti-war, promotes the redistribution of wealth, and is committed to gender equality and justice, we will continue to destroy each other and the world we share. A peace education program that does not prioritize the dismantling of patriarchy as an ethical imperative is failing to engage one of the root causes of violence. We need to find a real alternative to the patriarchal system for there is no just peace, inclusive equality, or liberating future, inside patriarchy.

Religious The role of religion in the history of Ireland is central. To pretend otherwise, as some do in a more secular era, is myopic. To conclude that it has been so much part of the problem that it can be ignored or eliminated from analysis is self-deceptive. Religion, has of course, been part of the problem, but it has also deep resources that can help build the just peace. The instrumentalization of religion is not unique to Ireland. It has happened elsewhere and to other religions as well as Christianity. Yet religion, like politics and science, is ambiguous. Ireland ended the 19th century with two equations set in concrete. Catholic = Nationalist = Celtic or truly Irish. Protestant = Unionist = Anglo-Saxon or British. Each was a potent mix of religion, politics, and culture, and whether in Ireland or the Balkans, this is likely to be explosive. The mix of religion, politics, and culture can be lethal. The roots of such violence in Ireland go back to the 12th or at least to the 16th century when the Reformations took place in Europe. The Reformations were both Protestant and Catholic, 387

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with diverse expressions and far-reaching effects. This was religious, political, economic, and social revolution. The Anglican model of Reformation was the first Protestant form in Ireland and within a short time had become a state church, constitutionally established, even though the church represented 10 percent of the minority. This was not just ecclesial power but also political power, and economic power and land ownership. The Catholic Reformation was strong in Ireland and was itself denied rights and freedoms by established power. A century later the reformed Reformation or Presbyterian model arrived in the northeast of Ireland. Anglicanism came as part of the Tudor invasion of Ireland, and the reformed or Presbyterian model with the politico-religiously motivated Plantation of Ulster. Politics and religion were inseparable, and patterns of land ownership, fear, suspicion, and mistrust were embedded in Irish society. Protestantism was from the outset a minority in this island and has remained so. The Protestant Reformations were not successful in Ireland, which has left Protestants to this day feeling that they are a minority people on the island with all the insecurities of a minority. Yet both sectors in Ireland developed and nurtured victim identities. The Reformations were sectarianized in Ireland, as elsewhere, but in Ireland the vicious and violent outcome has lasted longer. Sectarianism has always been religious and political and in its most benign form is otherwise good theology turned bad. Whether religious or political, or both, sectarianism makes absolute truth claims, suffers from a superiority complex, and is about power over the other that translates as domination, exclusion, and elimination (cultural or physical). Sectarianism translates into political, social, and economic policies of discrimination. Religious convictions and political loyalties, or aspirations, are usually legitimate in themselves, yet the power of impact is not in intention but consequences. When the religious, social, and political consequences are division and exclusion, then relationships and society are destroyed, and the ultimate consequence can be, and has been, violence and killing. Religious history cannot be separated from political history in Ireland and must be robustly engaged if it is to be fully understood. Sectarianism needs to be understood religiously and politically if it is to be overcome, and no longer poison that destroys relationships and community.

Political Historically political developments in Ireland have been a continuous struggle between constitutional and physical force politics. Political developments, therefore, need to be understood in the complex historical context. The formation of two parliaments in Ireland in the period 1919 to 1921 is significant. The first Dail in 1919 was small. The Irish Parliamentary Party (IPP), the party once led by Charles Stewart Parnell and until 1918 by John Redmond, had been decimated in the 1918 General Election. It was left with six Westminster seats. The Unionists were never going to turn up in a Dublin Parliament, which really left Sinn Fein, but half of the Sinn Fein members were in prison. Yet on January 21, 1919, Ireland began its journey of political democracy. It was not the best of starts but it was a beginning and independence was still the goal. Partition brought Northern Ireland into existence in 1921. By June 1921, the new state had its Stormont parliament, opened by King George V, also Emperor of India, and the Empire being at its zenith. The Protestants of Northern Ireland, most of them Unionists, may have been a minority on the island of Ireland but they were a majority in the United Kingdom and in the greatest Empire, perceived by itself as Protestant. It did have millions of Muslims and Hindus within its imperial reach, but at its heart there was a belief about being God’s chosen people, the new Israel, and the Bible was the secret of England’s greatness. The Protestants of Northern Ireland were secure, but never could believe it! Still they, too, had begun the experiment with political democracy. 388

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Perhaps both were maimed from the start. In 1921 both states were born in violence and both were confessional, a Catholic state for Catholic people and a Protestant parliament for Protestant people, as the respective leaders were to describe them in the 1930s. The political outcome made for bad politics and bad religion. Nationalism was a 19th-century development that was growing across Europe in opposition and resistance to imperialism. As it developed it became increasingly aggressive and militarized. Ireland was no exception. Ireland had had a series of risings since 1798, and each botched attempt fed the growing sense of glorious failure and nurtured the cult of the dead hero. Revolution and risings were Europe-wide in 1848 and Ireland experienced yet another failed rising. But the Fenian movement was born, committed to physical force and freedom by arms. Advanced nationalism was never large in numbers but especially later in the century became adept at infiltration of Irish organizations. It was this strain of physical force nationalism that led to the 1916 Easter Rising. Constitutional nationalism took shape and form in the Home Rule era. A Home Government Association had been formed by Isaac Butt on September 1, 1870 and as Home Rule gathered pace the nationalist movement developed into a parliamentary party under the leadership of Co. Wicklow Protestant, Charles Stewart Parnell. “Parnell and his party were pioneers in the democratisation of parliamentary politics in the United Kingdom” (Comerford, 1989, p. xlvii). In 1886 the party had eighty-six MPs and won Liberal support for Irish Home Rule. Even though a Protestant, Parnell wedded the Irish Parliamentary Party (IPP) to the Catholic Church, but ironically the Church brought Parnell down when his relationship with Kitty O’Shea became a public scandal. When Parnell died in 1891, the party was seriously split but reunited in 1900 under John Redmond. By 1914 Redmond had achieved what Parnell had failed to achieve, Home Rule for Ireland, but the legislation was shelved for the duration of the war, and by the end of the war Redmond had died. Unionism had its roots in the 19th century. In many ways Unionism and Nationalism emerged in tandem and in opposition to each other. The General Elections of 1885–6 marked the birth of modern politics in Ireland. Those who wanted to retain the union with Britain were opposed to the earliest Home Rule Bill of 1886. Edward Saunderson, a Cavan Anglo-Irish landowner, had founded an Irish Unionist Parliamentary Party in 1886. By 1910, Edward Carson, an Irish Unionist, was leader but the problem was becoming more Ulsterized. After 1913 the break between northern and southern Unionists was irreparable. It was in 1905 that the Ulster Unionist Council was formed out of various Unionist movements and deals that had emerged after 1885. Political mobilization and militancy increased under Carson’s leadership. After 1913 Unionism was divided in Ireland and it also ceased to be an exclusively parliamentary (Westminster) body and developed its local base in Ulster as well as a paramilitary strength. If the IPP had been in close alliance with the Catholic Church, Ulster Unionism was closely aligned with the Orange Order. Today politics in Ireland, North and South, are exclusively constitutional. In this sense the gun has been removed from Irish politics, though there are still those minority dissidents on all sides who are committed to a physical force tradition. In a more general sense many mindsets are still militarized and the potential for violence is, therefore, not far beneath the surface. The critique and demythologization of violence are still ongoing.

Towards the common good Is it possible in a sectarian society, which produces sectarian politics, to ever realize the common good? Partisan, sectarian, political parties will usually lack a vision of common good. The problem may not even be sectarianism. Political parties are partisan, even at their best. There is 389

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party policy and party manifesto, rooted in party tradition, and sometimes a particular party is good for the country. Yet power and staying in power can trump vision, and ideology can drive the party in a negative direction. In Northern Ireland the problem is sectarian. Elections are fought on orange and green lines. The election of 2017 meant that for the first time since the foundation of the state, the Unionists did not have an overall majority. The difference between Unionists and Nationalists was one seat and around 1,100 votes. The result spooked Unionists and led immediately to a call for electoral pacts between parties of the Unionist family. Such would be a return to orange and green, sectarian politics. It may be positive that attempts to do so collapsed. Every election in the northeast of Ireland since 1880 has been fought on the constitutional issue. The beginning of the Home Rule crisis was dominating the 1880s, and the constitutional question has also dominated every election since 1921. Although Unionists oppose Sinn Fein’s call for a border poll, they turn every election, including the June 2017 General Election, into a border issue. It may be that so long as the constitutional position of Northern Ireland remains open, it will be impossible to envision and work towards a common good. The kind of society we want to build for our children, and their children’s children, the vision of a shared future is an ethical call. At its heart are the ethics of responsibility. Somehow the ethical call has to overcome sectarian politics, including party politics. And yet, “the common good, when used as an ethical call to action or standard for human responsibility, is preeminently a call or standard for the exercise of political responsibility” (Skillen, 2005, p. 256). This means that politicians and political parties have an ethic of responsibility for a common good. The quest for a common good necessitates a governed political community. Such a community is inclusive of, and more than, elected politicians. Political power belongs to the community not political elites, and in Northern Ireland there is historically a tradition of people political power, which was Presbyterian, and in turn, Scottish Enlightenment; and eventually the “we the people” of the American Constitution. The political community, which is also civil society, will be shaped by a “constitutional consensus” that can be defined as the establishment of justice for everyone in the territory. . . . Giving to each its due – or doing right by each person, responsibility, institution, non-human creature, and the environment-is thus constitutive of the common good. (Skillen, 2005, p. 258). If there is not a community of public justice, then there is a failure of political community. If standards of justice do not hold for all peoples and institutions within the territory, then that political community cannot realize or represent the common good. A totalitarian regime cannot realize the common good, yet neither can a political community where there are abuses of power, systemic discrimination, the creation and sustaining of a sectarian us and them. It will always be a failed political community. It has been said that, “the great crisis among us is the crisis of the ‘the common good’, the sense of community solidarity that binds all in a common destiny – haves and have not’s, the rich and the poor” (Brueggemann, 2010, p. 1). Such a crisis is long lasting in a sectarian society, because as well as the inequalities between rich and poor, people are and will be excluded on the basis of religion, culture, and identity politics. Sectarianism is about social, religious, cultural, and political exclusion and that does not represent a community of public justice. Brueggemann (2010) describes mature people at their best; we might say a mature political community as people, “who are committed to the common good that reaches beyond private interest, transcends sectarian commitments, and offers human identity” (p. 1). 390

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If that is to reflect a constitutional consensus, then it requires covenant. The market operates through contract. Neighborliness through covenant, which is a pledge to each other in solidarity, the solidarity of a political community built on the moral foundations of justice, equality, social solidarity, and compassion. The common good is the good of all of us. “Covenant is the politics of the common good” (Sacks, 2007, p. 152). Further, not only is covenant an “all” word, it is “wider than the electorate because it includes the dead, the living and the not yet born” (Sacks, 2007, p. 153). Covenant is about common bonds, and civil society in Northern Ireland should refuse to allow political leadership, or elected politicians, to lock us into boxes, or identities, that deny our common humanity. In our common humanity we have common bonds, the human solidarity, which is neighborliness and covenant, which is the politics of the common good.

Building pluralist and deliberative democracy Ireland’s journey in democracy began around one hundred years ago. It has been an uneven journey. The Free State, later the Republic of Ireland, had to emerge from a civil war, with scores being settled into the 1930s, and the threat in the same decade of Eoin O’Duffy’s Blueshirts fascist movement. The Irish state had leanings towards one-party rule, and it was a Catholic or confessional state, with the Church dominating to a large extent policies and moral legislation. Northern Ireland was also confessional, dominated by Protestantism and Orangeism, the latter a politico-religious organization, reflecting the Christendom model still alive in Ireland at that time, if falling apart in mainland Europe. For 51 years Northern Ireland was a one-party state with no possibility of a change in government. Democracy is more than majoritarianism. There can be the tyranny of majority and a failure to recognize that dissent is an essential part of democracy. Liberal democracy has always “sought ways to constrain what a majority can do” (Ryan, 2013, p. 974). By trying to eliminate dissent, democracy is diminished. At the heart of liberal democracy are human rights. Since the UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights, rights have developed and expanded into political, economic, cultural, and environmental rights. The preservation of power, privilege, or rule is unlikely to want a rights-based democracy. Sectarianism diminished a rights-based approach, with little appetite for human or cultural rights. Yet rights are there to protect citizens from one another and are essential to a peace process. Liberal democracy is also about the rule of law and democratic accountability. An independent legal judiciary is what keeps a state in check. A state’s independence is sometimes questioned or undermined by politicians, but its independence must be maintained. Democratic accountability is an essential part of democratic governance, and parliamentary systems need checks and balances. Accountability is to the whole of society. The early 18th-century Irish philosopher, Francis Hutcheson, understood the importance of trust between those governed and those who govern. If that is broken by the elected, the electorate have the right to resist. Power ultimately belongs to the people and politicians are answerable and accountable at all times to the people. Democracy is pluralist. Over the years democracy has developed from its early modern expressions, which were white and male. Pluralism is a larger idea now. Globalization has meant greater movement of populations and peoples. Most societies are now more intercultural with increasing ethnic minorities and also a bewildering range of sexual identities. There is a reaction to the free movement of people in Europe and the US. There are issues to be addressed but not by building walls and closing borders. At the heart of Brexit is the cessation of free movement, a principle at the heart of the European Union. In a pluralist democracy all are equal before the law and equal in dignity and worth. 391

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What Northern Ireland has through its Assembly and Westminster is representative democracy. Politicians are elected to represent and legislate for the good of society. But democracy, according to Abraham Lincoln, is “rule of the people by the people for the people” (De Gruchy, 1995, p. 6). The 1998 Belfast Agreement made provision for a Civic Forum. After a few years elected politicians killed off the Civic Forum, but if democracy is participatory, then people as a whole must be involved in the democratic process. Civil society is key to participatory democracy and if civil society is disempowered or weak that is bad for democracy. Initiatives are required to create local civic fora. Human flourishing and the common good require more participatory democracy and greater civic-political collaboration. The idea of deliberative democracy is coming to the fore. Democracy is under threat in the Western world. The rise of populism is anti-democratic, anti-pluralist, and a threat to freedom. Irish poet William Butler Yeats wrote that the “centre cannot hold,” but it is the centre that now needs to hold in a world where increasing numbers of people are being driven by anger or fear. Democracy needs to be deepened through deliberative democracy, which is democratic deliberation and dialogue. It will require mechanisms of dialogue across the intercultural reality of society. Political and social discourse needs to recover its intellectual basis along with imaginative and mature thinking. “Democracy is based on the centrality of both action and interaction in social life, and necessarily also involves the intensive interaction among existing communities within a more interconnected world” (Gould, 2014, p. 269). In all of this, there is need for democracy with a heart, which means democracy with values. Justice and freedom are central, yet perhaps, more than anything, there is need for democracy with compassion or compassionate democracy. The journey to democracy in both parts of Ireland has been difficult and sometimes violent (anti-democracy), but hard won. Now democracy needs to hold, deepen, and mature, be more pluralistic, participatory, deliberative, and ethical. This program seeks to engage with the root causes of violence in Irish history and, in the process, to remember the future with a focus on the common good, as well as participatory, deliberative, and ethical democracy.

References Brueggemann, W. (2010). Journey to the Common Good. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press. Christ, C. P. (2016) A new definition of patriarchy: Control of women’s sexuality, private property, and war. Feminist Theology Journal, 23(3), 214–25. Comerford, R.V. (1989) Introduction: Ireland, 1870–1921. In W. E. Vaughan (Ed.) A New History of Ireland, Vol. 6: Ireland under the Union (pp. i–xlviii). Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Cullen Owens, R. (2005). A Social History of Women in Ireland: 1870–1970, Dublin, Ireland: Gill & Macmillan Ltd. De Gruchy, J. W. (1995). Christianity and Democracy. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Gould, C. C. (2014). Interactive Democracy: The Social Roots of Global Justice. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Kearney, R. (2007). Interreligious discourse: Hermeneutics and fundamentalism. In E. Clapis (Ed.), Violence in Christian Spirituality: An Ecumenical Conversation (pp. 47–55). Geneva: World Council of Churches Publications. Lerner, G. (1986). The Creation of Patriarchy. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Ryan, A. (2013). On Politics. London: Penguin Books. Sacks, J. (2007) The Home we Build Together: Recreating Society. London: Continuum. Sheehy Skeffington, F. (1914). Editorial: The writing on the wall. In L. Ryan (Ed.), Irish Feminism and the Vote: An Anthology of the Irish Citizen Newspaper 1912–1920 (pp. 87–8). Dublin, Ireland: Folens Publishers. Skillen, J. W. (2005). The common good as political norm. In P. D. Miller & D. P. McCann (Eds.), In Search of the Common Good (pp. 256–278). London: T. & T. Clark International. Ward, M. (1997). Hanna Sheehy Skeffington: A Life. Cork, Ireland: Attic Press.

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33 BUYING TIME IN A CRISIS The UN Secretary-General and multiplex mediation in a multipolar nuclear world Thomas E. Boudreau and Anthony Yost

In his book The Second Nuclear Age (2012), Professor Paul Bracken at Yale University posits the dangerous and potentially lethal possibility of a multi-actor nuclear crisis – a growing conflict that involves multiple nuclear powers – spinning out of control due to miscalculation, miscommunication, and the loss of command and control in an ambiguous military encounter. Professor Bracken specifically cites the Korean Peninsula or the Middle East as places, among others, where such a multinuclear crisis could ignite or occur (Bracken, 2012). In view of these looming dangers, political prudence demands that statesmen and diplomats prepare now for the possible necessity of arranging effective third-party intervention in untoward incidents or full-blown crises in international affairs. Obviously, one of the persons to have a prominent third-party role in this regard is the Secretary-General of the United Nations (UN). As head of the UN, the Secretary General (UNSG) has a unique role and saliency (Schelling, 1960) in international affairs. Indeed, in the event of a pending or actual crisis, the preventive responsibilities prescribed under Article 99 of the Charter provide the UNSG with the necessary diplomatic powers to collect relevant information, and bring any issue that may endanger international peace and security to the UN Security Council (Urquhart, 2006; Boudreau, 1991). Past UN Secretary-Generals have used the preventive possibilities of this office to intervene effectively in the Cuban Missile Crisis, the Iraq–Iran war, and the hostage crises in Lebanon (Picco, 1999), El Salvador, and Lesotho (Boudreau, 1991). In view of this past record of proven effectiveness, the Executive Office of the UN Secretary-General can play a decisive third-party role should the world be confronted with a dangerous nuclear crisis. To be sure, international crises of the future will not necessarily be like those of the past. This is because, as Paul Bracken (2012) points out, today there are more nuclear powers in the world than ever before, including particularly dangerous entities in the South China Sea and Syria. Add to that, the scourge of terrorism by sub- state actors is emerging as a significant nuclear threat and factor in international affairs. For example, some terrorist groups would have a vested interest in triggering a nuclear crisis, like Al-Qaeda’s apparent attempt to precipitate one between India and Pakistan in 2008 and, possibly 2011 (Shahzad, 2011). Combined and interacting with other ongoing crises of the 21st century, such as climate change, drought, cyber threats and population migrations, the type and magnitude of international crises or conflicts seem to be growing in size and complexity.

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In view of these portending dangers, this chapter proposes a method of “multiplex mediation” that, utilizing Metcalfe’s Law of network communications, provides an integrated third-party infrastructure instituted, when needed, by the UN Secretary-General; such a method of mediation can enhance significantly the number of potential diplomatic and policymaker interactions during a dangerous multipolar nuclear crisis. Multiplex mediation calls for the creation of multiple mediation teams organized by a respected third party that can be deployed to each of the capitals of the countries in crisis. Specifically, according to Metcalfe’s Law, the number of diplomatic interactions expands via quadratic growth as the number of potential participants arithmetically increases. In short, a relatively small increase in the number of diplomats included in any mediation team sent on a mission can significantly enhance the subsequent size and communication capability of a central third party, such as the Secretary-General of the United Nations, allowing for more potential interactions among many individuals simultaneously when time is short and the danger of violence is high. This could, in turn, enormously enhance the mediation team’s ability to search and find the terms for salient escalation controls to the crisis, as well as the political, military, and diplomatic formulae for ending the crisis peacefully. According to meta-game theory, effective communications can become a substitute for time (Frei, 1983). Thus, enhancing meaningful communications during a multipolar nuclear crisis may be a very effective means of buying time during such a dangerous and dynamic event. The Metcalfe communication network dynamics can significantly enhance the communication capabilities, including (potentially) those between policymakers and third-party mediators (Metcalfe, 1973; Boudreau, 2013; Boudreau & Yost, 2014). Such team mediations are routinely used by the Iroquois Indians as part of preserving their Great Law of Peace among themselves and others (Boudreau, 1983). The use of mediation teams to create a Metcalfe communication network can dramatically increase the number of potential and integrated interactions among all policymakers, as well as third-party diplomats involved in a crisis. The significantly enhanced number of diplomatic and policymaker interactions may also enhance the integrative or cognitive complexity of information processing, and thus contribute to the successful search for salient escalation controls and even a solution to one of the most dangerous types of crises imaginable (Suedfeld & Tetlock, 1977; Suedfeld & Bluck, 1988).

Definitional duties and details To begin our inquiry, we first need to define some basic terms and ideas including the key concepts concerning “Crisis,” “Multinational” or “Multipolar,” “Mediation,” “Multi-state Crisis,” and “Multiplex.” Inspired by the work of Jonathan Wilkenfeld and his colleagues at the University of Maryland, we will employ the following definition of a crisis in this chapter: An international crisis is triggered at the system level, at least one state is experiencing a foreign policy crisis. A state is considered a crisis actor if three conditions are present: decision makers perceive a threat to basic national values, leaders believe that they must make a decision within a finite period of time, and leaders consider the chances of involvement in military hostilities to be heightened. (Brecher et al., 1988, p. 281) With the added proviso that it seems to exclude the possibility of sub-state actors who possess nuclear weapons or some other military capability from precipitating or participating in such a 394

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crisis, this multi-dimensional definition of a crisis provides a very useful starting point for the following analysis. Since 9/11, this possibility has been discussed and reviewed very extensively, though earlier studies also highlighted the danger (see Leventhal & Alexander, 1987; Allison, 2005). The possibility of sub-state actors posing a crisis-level threat highlights the importance of specifying the type and nature of added possible actors in an international crisis that shares all of the other characteristics mentioned in a “multipolar” or “multiparty” nuclear crisis. Specifically, the term “multi-state crisis” will be used to denote the active involvement in such a crisis of two or more states that possess nuclear weapons; at the same time, a “multipolar nuclear crisis” may well contain a number of nuclear and non-nuclear states interacting with each other as well as with other groups, such as non-governmental organizations (NGOs) like the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) or sub-state actors including terrorist groups. For instance, a sub-state terrorist group, suspected to have contact with some state actor might trigger such a crisis since it may be in the imminent position to acquire or use a nuclear device (Allison, 2005). Given this, multiplex mediation can be defined as the use of a respected third party in international affairs, such as the UN Secretary-General, in a multistate or multipolar nuclear crisis, who then decides to deploy mediation teams consisting of 5–14 individuals selected for their diplomatic or technical expertise, headed by a senior and experienced diplomat or mediator, to the capitals of each of the states involved. These diplomats will go to each of the capitals of countries directly involved in the crisis and could also take up residence in an embassy of a neutral or non-aligned state; once there, the members of these teams could immediately begin to search for a settlement or even a solution to the crisis by interacting with senior policymakers and their assistants, as well as with other senior diplomats of the diplomatic corps stationed in each capital. Simultaneously, the members of the mediation team will meet among themselves, in the urgent search of salient “escalation control points” (Schelling, 1960; Boudreau, 1983) to the crisis, as well as to find the terms of agreement that may end the immediate danger of military hostilities, or even nuclear war. At the same time, the UN Secretary-General will be in constant touch with his team leaders in the various capitals using a variety of means to communicate, including encrypted telecommunications, shuttle diplomacy, the courier, and diplomatic pouch. If time permits, such diversity of diplomatic messaging enhances the perceived or actual security of communications, thus helping to create a “plausible” third-party intervention. The Secretary-General can mobilize staff members as well as the senior diplomats in the UN diplomatic community – the largest in the world – to work in teams to seek possible political, military and diplomatic means to end the crisis peacefully. The teams should remain in each of the capitals until the crisis is fully resolved; “it’s not over till it’s over.” Unfortunately, we may think it is over just before the worst danger and moments of the crisis emerge, as in the Cuban Missile Crisis when war suddenly seemed imminent after a precarious solution appeared in reach only the night before (Kennedy, 1969). So, the multiplex teams should stay in place until the danger is truly over, military forces are returned to their bases, and nuclear arsenals are stood down. Once the crisis is truly over, the Secretary-General can call his or her senior diplomats and staff members home. Of course, there is no guarantee that the simple act of increasing the number of diplomatic interactions during a crisis will enable policymakers to find an agreeable solution to an escalating nuclear crisis. Much depends on the historical context and evolution of the crisis, the specific incidents that triggered such a dangerous event, and the quality and abilities of the diplomats engaged in finding a settlement before war breaks out. Lady luck, or simply “luck,” will, for better or worse, undoubtedly play a role as well. There are simply no guarantees that such a 395

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crisis can or could be resolved before war breaks out. The danger of such nuclear crises or even war has actually intensified since the new millennium with the proliferation of new or potential nuclear actors, though the world has been lulled into a false sense of security with the end of the Cold War (Bracken, 2012).

Multiplex mediation: Enhancing the integrative complexity of decisionmaking during a multipolar crisis Besides not experiencing the intense stress and emotions of primary policymakers, the ability of multiple mediators to improve and enhance the “integrative” or cognitive communications between the primary belligerents during a crisis may be their greatest service. Over the past several decades, numerous studies have been conducted on information processing and decisionmaking during international crises (Suedfeld & Tetlock, 1977; Guttieri et al., 1995; Walker & Watson, 1994), and intergovernmental communications prior to surprise attacks (Suedfeld & Bluck, 1988). These studies have focused on a structural measure of information-processing described as “integrative or cognitive complexity” that gauges the simplicity or intricacy of a decisionmaker’s communications based on the source’s recognition of alternative perspectives. Specifically, decisionmakers’ abilities to process important information is scored for two dimensions of complexity: first, the “differentiation” of information, which involves the identification of possible alternatives and options concerning the use and interpretation of data, and second, the subsequent combination of these perspectives and dimensions in synthesized solutions or “integration” of information into possible options for action. These studies (cited above) show that the scored integrative or cognitive complexity of information processing by decisionmakers increased, sometimes dramatically, in international crises that ended peacefully, and decreased, often significantly, in crises that led to surprise attacks or war. Further, meta-game theory has demonstrated that communications can be a substitute for time in a crisis (Frei, 1983; Boudreau 1983, 1991). If this is accurate, enhancing communications between a variety of capitals, leaders, policymakers, and diplomats during a crisis may be a very important way of buying time – that most precious commodity – to give policymakers and diplomats the opportunities they will need to find solutions, however fragile and imperfect, to end a multipolar nuclear crisis. During such a crisis, there will be a profound need to accelerate and intensify the number of significant diplomatic interactions and exchanges as diplomats and policymakers throughout the world, and especially in the affected capitals, intensify their searches for salient points of restraint, or what Thomas Schelling (1960) calls “focal points” – as well as the terms of a facesaving or actual settlement or solution to the crisis before nuclear war breaks out. “Salience” or a “focal point” can often provide a solution to the fundamental problem of coordinating mutual or multipoint strategic expectations even in the absence of direct communications (Schelling, 1960). In view of this, international diplomats can provide invaluable service in seeking and identifying such “Schelling points” of restraint or even resolution in a multiparty nuclear crisis (Myerson, 2009).

Enhancing the scope and cognitive complexity of decisionmaking During a multipolar or even regional conventional crisis, policymakers and diplomats will presumably be intensely searching for ways to control events and mitigate or even end the possibility of war. In such a collective search, a third party can play a number of roles simultaneously. First, the mere presence of a third party in a crisis may indicate to each party that all 396

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other parties are still interested in a peaceful solution to the crisis – though this is not always the case. For instance, the UN Secretary-General was sent to Baghdad before the first Gulf war on the pretense of seeking peace, even though we now know that the US and its allies seemed fully intent on war (Koshy, 1997; Nauriya, 1996). Second, a third party can provide a “fig-leaf” for one party to halt further escalation, or even back down from the brink. There is some evidence that Secretary-General Thant did this for Khrushchev by sending a letter to both the US and the Soviet Union asking for the ships going to Cuba, including those that might be carrying more missiles, to stop and even turn around; hence, diplomacy becomes drama as a third party provides the theater and stage for graceful entrances, and exits (O’Brien, 2015). Third, an effective third party is always seeking the actual terms of the settlement of the crisis; these can be defined as the workable terms, conditions, or wording that both or all sides can agree upon to end the crisis peacefully. This is the key mission and purpose of all multiplex mediators deployed under the auspices of the UN Secretary-General in such a crisis. The UN Secretary-General did precisely this in the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962. Specifically, in an often overlooked yet carefully worded letter in midweek of the crisis, Thant proposed the precise terms of the eventual actual settlement to both leaders as well, thus providing an inestimable service to humanity (Kennedy, 1969; Boudreau, 1985, 1991). To accomplish these tasks successfully, a key consideration of any effective third-party intervention is, as one senior UN official once said, “to get the right information to the right person at the right time” (Sutterlin, 2003). This can be accomplished presumably by greatly enhancing the information exchanges and searches for optimal outcomes by as many experienced minds as possible, and then getting the best results of this inquiry to key decisionmakers in time. In short, there needs to be a variety of ways to accelerate enormously the flow and exchange of ideas, information, options, and efforts at rumor control via diplomatic interactions during a multipolar crisis. The specific question then becomes: How can one quickly organize and structure an effective thirdparty intervention in such a multipolar nuclear crisis to ensure the maximum number of potential significant diplomatic and/ or policymaker interactions during such a dangerous time? An insight into one way to intensify the occurrence of these diplomatic interactions is provided through Metcalfe’s Law, which posits that the number of potential interactions expands via quadratic growth as the number of potential participants arithmetically increases, as Figure 33.1 illustrates. Figure 33.1 illustrates the power of network effects to increase dramatically the number of potential interactions among critical parties to a crisis, such as diplomats and policymakers. As the Figure shows, two people can create one link. Five people can create ten links, each

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Figure 33.1  Metcalfe circle

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representing one potential interaction. Twelve people can create sixty-six potential interactions, thus dramatizing the power of “network effects” to greatly expand the number of “information exchanges” or links. Or, as Robert Metcalfe states, “the total value of a network to its users grows as the square of the total number of its users” (Metcalfe, 1973, p. 1). This has been described as Metcalfe’s Law, and the dramatic growth is a function of quadratic growth. We will describe this potential to increase quadratic growth in the communication network of a mediation team as the “Metcalfe Circle” (Boudreau, 2013). In a multipolar nuclear or regional conventional crisis, a recognized and respected third party, such as the UN Secretary-General, must attempt to enhance significant diplomatic interactions in the hopes of accelerating the discovery and implementation of a solution. One way to do this is to deploy mediation teams to each of the capitals of the parties directly engaged in the crisis. These teams will then report directly back to the UNSG at the UN Headquarters in New York City using encrypted cell phones, diplomatic couriers, as well as the communication system of a neutral embassy such as the Swedes or Swiss in each capital. Each mediation team could consist of 8–12 or even up to 20 experienced diplomats, technical experts, and policy advisors to each capital. The urgent goal is to create a Metcalfe Circle (above), or a potentially interactive configuration of networked communications, among the policymakers and diplomats in each capital involved; this is a critical first step of effective third-party intervention and crisis or conflict management during a multipolar nuclear crisis. Further, the use of mediation teams, each consisting of senior and experienced diplomats, could provide multiparty or multiplex perspectives, inputs, and exchanges into the primary, secondary, and even tertiary decisionmaking processes within each capital simultaneously during such a dangerous crisis. Specifically, it should not be overlooked that each team of third-party mediators can potentially interact with a variety of groups and individuals in the capital of each country, working together in search of a peaceful solution. First and foremost, they are seeking access to the inner circle of key decisionmakers who will ultimately decide the question of war or peace. History has shown that these typically number – if the government is not a dictatorship – between 4 and 16 people – but this is admittedly a generalization, especially when we are dealing with potential crises in the future (Kennedy, 1969; Bracken, 1983, 2012). Even so, we will describe these individuals as the first circle. This first circle is often divided in desperate crises between hawks and doves. History also demonstrates that, when the very real possibility of war looms up before such a group – if it is, in fact a group – -there are often some policymakers who favor a military showdown (the hawks) and those that favor a peaceful way out of the crisis (the doves). This was true, for instance, in the inner circles of the ExCom Committee that met during the Cuban Missile Crisis (Kennedy, 1969), or during the British deliberations before the Falklands war (Boudreau, 1985). One critical role of the third-party mediators is to try to gain access to these inner decisionmakers, identify (if possible) those that favor a more peaceful position, and then attempt to strengthen the hand of those seeking a negotiated or nonmilitary settlement. To do this, the team of mediators can and should interact as well with the key assistants to the decisionmakers; we will describe this as the second circle. Then, the mediators can also interact, if possible, with the assistants to the assistants – a crucial resource as well. If the past is prologue, then some of the individuals in the second circles will be very powerful voices in their government in their own right – George Ball as just one example comes to mind during the Cuban Missile Crisis (Kennedy, 1969). The third circle consists of the resident ambassadors in each of the capitals, some of whom may and usually do enjoy intimate familiarity and hence access to one or more of the policymakers in the first two circles; we will call this the third or resident 398

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diplomatic circle. For instance, British Ambassador David Ormsby Gore gave invaluable advice to President Kennedy during the Cuban Missile Crisis (Kennedy, 1969). Creating a Metcalfe Circle, or a potentially interactive configuration of networked communications, among the policymakers and diplomats in a series of interacting concentric circles within each capital could be a critical way to enhance the integrative or cognitive complexity of information-processing and thinking during such a crisis. In short, we will consider the potential added diplomatic interactions as a measure of the simultaneous increase in the potential integrative complexity of communications during a crisis. Of course, no mediation team will act in isolation from the others, or from the UN SecretaryGeneral as the salient and main third party. So, each mediation team will be headed by a highly experienced and senior diplomat who will have the critical duty of meeting and constantly communicating within his group, identifying and synthesizing the best ideas and proposals concerning terms for an acceptable solution, and then communicating these back to their superiors back home at UN Headquarters. At the same time, they will be receiving from the salient third party the recommendations, ideas, and options identified by other mediation teams. The task of each team is to then share these new ideas, options, and information with each of the three inner circles of decisionmakers and diplomats as quickly as possible to elicit feedback, refinements, or even the brainstorming of new ideas or options as well. This is the very process of enhancing the cognitive complexity of information sharing and decisionmaking among key policymakers and diplomats. Of course, the UN Secretary-General and his staff at UN Headquarters in New York or Geneva are not mere spectators in this process, but must become active participants searching for the terms of potential solutions to the crisis, seeking political and diplomatic possibilities that are often invisible to national decisionmakers or diplomats caught up in such a dangerous crisis. One significant danger of multiplexed diplomatic communications during such a stressful multi-state or nuclear multiparty crisis is that the enhanced capacities of any integrated network of enhanced communications can contribute to over-reaction and even panic by the spread of rumors and misinformation. Decisionmakers or diplomats can be affected by false information, which could in turn escalate and not deescalate the crisis. Governments involved in the crisis will undoubtedly try to coopt or use such teams for their own diplomatic and even military purposes. This is an especially dangerous possibility when dealing with military and political events in far-off fronts, at sea or in the air. A good rule of thumb in this regard is to adopt, ensure, and enforce, if need be, the necessary diplomatic discipline by UN team mediators concerning no formal or informal contact or discussions with the world or local press as well as with any third party without prior permission of UN Headquarters. This is especially important since the first public (or often private) information or rumors are almost always incomplete and often wrong – unless subsequently confirmed by trusted in-house sources (George, 1984). Even then, after so-called official “confirmation,” information at the time may be slightly off or completely erroneous or incomplete – something that mediation teams should be keenly aware of and emphasize among themselves and even with their host government before it reacts (Kennedy, 1969). The team will have no official or unofficial capacity to speak for the UN Secretary-General, or even speak directly or indirectly to the world or local press; the dangers are simply too great to have multiple spokespersons in a variety of capitals. To avoid this, only the UN Secretary-General should have the ability to make official proposals or statements to governments or to the global media during such dangerous events. Such checks are necessary since any extensive communication network can overheat very quickly from false positives or false negatives (Pearson & Mitroff, 1993). So, the team must be rigorously disciplined and even trained to prevent this by using strict guidelines and protocols – developed among themselves if necessary, since the chances of proactive 399

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planning and training of these teams by governments literally stuck in the present or past tense is highly unlikely. Such diplomatic discipline, using checks and balances, is especially necessary in the age of social media where the ability to instantly post and influence the crisis could have a dramatic effect on the process. At the same time, each mediation team will be in constant touch with its salient third party, such as the UN Secretary-General. The main UN Headquarters in New York should always be consulted, and seek independent verification before sharing any extremely sensitive information from other sources with the host government. This raises the critical issue of the mediation team’s own communication system back home. Obviously, at times, unsecure communications will have to be employed. At the same time, a neutral third nation with embassies in each of the main capitals involved may offer its communications capacities to the team mediators as well. Finally, in order to create the reality or, perhaps as important, the perception of secure communications back and forth, the senior diplomat will use – if time permits – diplomatic couriers and the diplomatic pouch to carry some or all of the ideas under consideration back and forth via jet travel from the salient third party in order to prevent electronic eavesdroppers from acquiring a “complete picture” of the negotiations; for the same reason, the mediation team must employ encrypted laptops and other electronics that are not connected to the internet and any other electronic system or provider. Great powers are incurable code breakers and trackers; but this will take time to get a “composite” or accurate record or “image” of the whole, thus helping to buy more time in such a dangerous crisis. Multiple means of communications back and forth from UN Headquarters will decisively help in this regard, especially in creating the diplomatic perception of a credible third-party effort and intervention. The national governments directly involved in the crisis will presumably be in direct communication with other key parties and the UNSG as well. Ultimately, these governments will decide the critical issue of war or peace. So, in the last analysis, multiplex mediation can provide an admittedly marginal yet potentially significant channel or more accurately channels of communications; a third-party intervention using Metcalfe’s mediation circles in each of the capitals can provide a critical yet secondary and supplementary network and channels of communications among the parties concerned in order to help buy time during the most dangerous crisis imaginable. In the last analysis, the primary and direct channels between and among governments may ultimately decide whether the outcome will be peace, or war.

Training of multiplex mediators A multi-national or actor nuclear crisis is not the time for on the job training of diplomatic mediators. At the same time, the UN diplomatic community in New York City is the largest in the world. In view of this, the UN Secretary-General should delegate the training of such potential multiplex mediators to the UN Institute for Training and Research (UNITAR) as the official UN agency responsible for the training of such diplomatic personnel, who can be from both the UN Secretariat as well as the UN diplomatic community. In particular, diplomats from neutral countries should be “trained and gamed” in the strengths and dangers of trying to mediate in multi-national or actor nuclear crisis. For instance, Sweden and Switzerland each have embassies in both North and South Korea, which might be very useful in any such crisis on the Korean Peninsula. Other neutral states like Ireland have unique constellations of embassies around the world as well. At the same time, it should not be lost sight of that the same multiplex mediation technique can be used in conventional crises or in intractable conflicts. Such training is essential since the same mechanism of multiplex mediation used to enhance the cognitive complexity of communications during a crisis can also act to magnify or aggravate 400

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the flow of wrong information or gravely enhance erroneous rumors. So, rather than aid in the contribution of the possible terms of a solution, multiplex mediation could – if not handled carefully – significantly contribute to rumor overload, aggravating the stress of the primary decisionmakers, and contribute to pushing the world over the edge into war. The diplomats and staff from the UNSG’s team need to be very carefully trained and prepared to act with great restraint publicly and privately during such a crisis. Funding for such training could undoubtedly be sought in private foundations, such as the UN foundation. The UN Secretary-General can use his preventive powers under Article 99 to deploy such thoroughly trained and disciplined mediation teams when and if such a potentially catastrophic nuclear crisis arrives.

Conclusion: Buying time during extreme danger In the contemporary world of multiple nuclear powers, our second nuclear age, we will need to find effective ways to powerfully enhance the potential seed and impact of third-party interventions to find critical salient escalation controls and tentative solutions before the crisis escalates out of control, affecting all of humanity. In this second nuclear age, it is no longer just the two Cold War superpowers in play. The new actors come with another dimension to add to the already potentially escalating nuclear crises: they are often involved in conflicts with multiple states and have weak domestic political institutions (Narang, 2014). This updated conflict landscape needs an effective intervention to deescalate the crisis and buy us time in a multipolar nuclear world. This chapter proposes one such way to intervene in such dangerous crises, which involves the deployment of multiplex mediation teams to the various capitals directly involved to help the actors resolve the crisis before events spiral out of control. To prevent such escalatory spirals, we need to make the best use of time and enable the most potential interactions and substantive communications possible. This can be done by having a team of respected and knowledgeable third-party practitioners working in each involved capitol to maintain and enhance substantive communications with each government involved in the crisis. This multiplex mediation team can help overcome the immense cognitive obstacles that may emerge, deescalate the crisis, and set the groundwork for diplomatic processes to end the danger of war.

References Allison, G. (2005). Nuclear Terrorism: The Ultimate Preventable Catastrophe. New York: Holt. Boudreau, T. (1983). Crisis control and the U.N. Worldview, 26(11), 20–1. Boudreau, T. (1985). Watchman of the peace: The United Nations Secretary-General and the prevention of international armed conflict. Unpublished doctoral dissertation. Syracuse University, New York. Boudreau, T. (1991). Sheathing the Sword: The U.N. Secretary-General and the Prevention of International Conflict. Westport, CT: Praeger. Boudreau, T. (2013). Buying time: complex multiparty mediations in a multipolar nuclear crisis: Enhancing the integrative complexity of information gathering, processing, and exchange in international conflicts. PowerPoint presentation. Boudreau, T., & Yost, A. (2014). Buying time in a crisis. Alaska Journal of Dispute Resolution, 2(1), 29–46. Bracken, P. (1983). The Command and Control of Nuclear Forces. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Bracken, P. (2012). The Second Nuclear Age: Strategy, Danger, and the New Power Politics. New York: Times Books. Brecher, M., Wilkenfeld, J., & Moser, A. (1988). Crises in the Twentieth Century. Oxford, UK: Butterworth-Heinemann. Brecher, M., James, P., & Wilkenfeld, J. (1990). Polarity and stability: New concepts, indicators and evidence. International Interactions, 16(1), 49–80.

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Thomas E. Boudreau and Anthony Yost Frei, D. (1983). Risks of Unintentional Nuclear War. Lanham, MD: Rowan & Littlefield. George, A. (1984). Crisis management: The interaction of political and military considerations. Survival, 26(5), 223–34. Guttieri, K., Wallace, M., & Suedfeld, P. (1995). The integrative complexity of American decision makers in the Cuban missile crisis. Journal of Conflict Resolution, 39(4), 595–621. Kennedy, R. (1969). Thirteen Days: A Memoir of the Cuban Missile Crisis. New York: W. W. Norton & Co. Koshy, N. (1997). The United Nations and the Gulf crisis. Economic and Political Weekly, 32(47) (Nov. 22–8), 3011–20. Leventhal, P., & Alexander, Y. (1987). Preventing Nuclear Terrorism. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Metcalfe, R. (1973). Packet Communication, MIT project MAC technical report MAC TR 114 (a recast of Metcalfe’s Harvard dissertation) Cambridge, MA: MIT. Metcalfe’s Law (n.d.) Business dictionary. www.businessdictionary.com/definition/Metcalfe-s-Law. html#ixzz2u5Kk9Q3T Myerson, R. (2009). Learning from Schelling’s strategy of conflict. Journal of Economic Literature, 47(4), 1109–25. Narang, V. (2014). Nuclear Strategy in the Modern Era: Regional Powers and International Conflict. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Nauriya, A. (Feb. 17, 1996). United Nations and the Iraq war: When the salt loses its savour. Economic and Political Weekly, 31(7) (Feb. 17), 391–4. O’Brien, C. C. (2015). To Katanga and Back: A UN Case Study. London: Faber & Faber. Pearson, C. & Mitroff, I. I. (1993). From crisis prone to crisis prepared: A framework for crisis management. Academy of Management Executive, 7(1), 48–59. Picco, G. (1999). Man without a Gun: One Diplomat’s Struggle to Free the Hostages, Fight Terrorism, and End a War. Danvers, MA: Crown. Schelling, T. (1960). The Strategy of Conflict. Boston, MA: Harvard University Press. Shahzad, S. S. (2011). Inside Al-Qaeda and the Taliban: Beyond Bin Laden and 9/11. London: Pluto Press. Suedfeld, P., & Bluck, S. (1988). Changes in integrative complexity prior to surprise attacks. Journal of Conflict Resolution, 32(4), 626–35. Suedfeld, P. & Tetlock, P. (1977). Integrative complexity of communications. International Crises. Journal of Conflict Resolution, 21(1), 169–84. Sutterlin, J. (2003). The United Nations and the Maintenance of International Security: A Challenge to be Met. Westport, CT: Greenwood Publishing Group. Urquhart, B. (2006). The next Secretary-General: How to fill a job with no description. Foreign Affairs, 85(5), 15–22. Walker, S., & Watson, G. (1994). Integrative complexity and British decisions during Munich and Polish crises. Journal of Conflict Resolution, 38(1), 3–23. Wikimedia (Figure 1) (n.d.) Metcalfe network effect [illustration]. Image altered for article. http://upload. wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/1d/Metcalfe-Network-Effect.svg

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34 HUMAN SECURITY AND PEACEBUILDING Critical tools for operationalizing human rights in the post-Cold War world Kenneth Christie and Robert J. Hanlon One of the most important developments in international relations (IR) in the post-Cold War period was the initial focus on human rights and how its context changed post-9/11. This is of immense importance for the victims of rights abuses, and scholars and activists who try to shape the agendas in the international arena. We have seen many discussions debating the balance between security and human rights. The effort throughout is to emphasize these debates and provide the background to how these emerged and how they may be being resolved (or not) in the contemporary era. Much of this is also dominated by the changes in conflict and we dwell briefly on the changes in post-Cold War conflict that had such an effect on how everything else started to work out. We also indicate the differences between the pre-9/11 international human rights regime that was witnessing some improvements, and the post-9/11 regime, which resembled a process of being dismantled, as security concerns have taken precedence over domestic and international human rights abuses.

Changing times, changing conflict There are a number of common elements that have been described in contextualizing conflict following the end of the Cold War. Mary Kaldor (2013) provides one of the most important analyses, arguing that we were witnessing a period of “new wars.” She links failed states, internal state conflict, and the increasing inability of the state to control its territory and govern. She discusses the factors involved including the ethnic basis of conflict, the brutal effects of violence on civilian populations including displacement, the fractionalization of countries; the use of detention, torture, and rape as weapons of warfare and the increasing criminalization of the different groups involved. We can observe several of these elements in the Syrian crisis, which erupted after the Arab Spring and is continuing to be an intractable conflict with massive human rights violations. Such conflicts are also characterized by how long they last and how they are transformed given the increasing weakness of the state to control affairs. Kaldor’s (2013) argument undermines traditional IR theory here by pointing out that the state itself is no longer the main 403

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actor in the conflicts that emerged after 1990. Internal and ethnic conflicts among others have weakened the ability of the state to command a monopoly over legitimate violence. Consequently, we have emerging insurgents, guerrilla groups, terrorists, and criminals who have stepped into the political and social space that the state once occupied. Thus, we also note the increasing privatization of war with private security firms and organizations attempting to capitalize on conflict in the absence of the state. The privatization of war has led to the use of mercenaries who are individuals and/or organizations that are paid by the state to act on their behalf in the conduct of military and other operations. They have been used by the United States (US) in Afghanistan since 2001 and Iraq since 2003. These are not new aspects of warfare because mercenaries have always been around in the history of warfare. What differentiates them is the degree to which democratic governments now employ them in conflicts, allowing them to take over traditional state activities. This leads to serious questions of accountability. From here we explore pre-9/11 conditions of human rights, and how and why they changed in this new context.

Pre-9/11 conditions Human rights are not really that new. What is new from the 20th century on is their “institutionalization,” acceptance, and recognition. During the 1980s and 1990s with the large-scale political and social changes taking place, human rights became not only much more important in terms of the level of discourse taking place and the different forms of decisionmaking but also in terms of the actual kinds of political intervention which occurred, in the light of the reconstruction and rehabilitation of states after authoritarian or dictatorial rule or internal wars. Humanitarian interventionism came to be based to some extent on the notion that human rights abuses were taking place, and that it was acceptable to intervene to protect these rights. There was a “deepening of norms” and a “broadening of the consensus of values” (Foot, 2000, p. 59). This led to a closing of the divide in the Cold War between the advocates of second-generation social and economic rights (the communist countries) and the supporters of political and civil rights (advanced liberal democracies in general). And it allowed for some integration between previously opposing camps. Former Irish President and United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, Mary Robinson, acknowledged how far human rights had come since the 1980s. They were “now firmly on the agenda of the international community,” and that “there is much greater recognition now of the centrality of human rights and the immense benefits a rights-based approach brings” (Robinson, 2006, p. 352).

Post-Cold War human rights Human rights on a global scale witnessed some improvement in the post-1990 period with the end of the Cold War and the fall of the Berlin wall. Samuel Huntington (1991) described a third wave of democratization with the collapse of authoritarian regimes in Eastern Europe. Authoritarian regimes were on the wane and it was no longer fashionable or healthy for them to torture or keep opponents locked up for large periods of time, or have their rights abused. Cultural relativism, the notion that each state has its own culture and therefore its own, appropriate individual human rights standards, came under attack. It attempted to resurface with the Asian values debate, which started in the early 1990s and claimed that the rights of individuals could be foregone to protect the rights of the majority and secure the safety of society. It was a powerful argument and successful for a while in official circles, and relied on an apparent decline in the West and their economies. 404

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The dilemma of the global war on terror and its relationship to human rights is a crucial issue that has shaped both terrorism and human rights in the early 21st century. The war on terror has been the “paradigm” for most of US foreign policy in this period and by extension for most other states as well. Terrorism has dominated the headlines and human rights have been sidelined in the process.

How the context has changed in dealing with human rights The protection of fundamental human rights was a foundation stone in the establishment of the US over 241 years ago. A central goal of US foreign policy has been the promotion of respect for human rights as embodied in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. The US understands that the existence of human rights helps secure the peace, deter aggression, promote the rule of law, combat crime and corruption, strengthen democracies, and prevent humanitarian crises. However, in practice, the US is severely criticized for not living up to these standards. There is no doubt that there has been a massive expansion in the levels of bureaucracy and interest groups devoted to human rights in the US, over the years, alongside legislation accompanying the issue and a corresponding increase in non-governmental organizations (NGOs) dealing with rights issues. So there is clear evidence at the one level that human rights appear as a priority in official government and NGO circles (Foot, 2004). And yet the US refuses to adhere to common international law standards such as the establishment of an international criminal court designed to prosecute genocide and crimes against humanity, because it could be used against US military personnel and citizens overseas. This reflects its reluctance to participate in something that may shed a poor light on its status as a hegemon. An alternative argument is that, when the state is at war, human rights can be suspended in the name of national security. Clearly the threat to the US from terrorism has increased. There were only two terrorist incidents on US soil with foreign involvement; the bombing of the World Trade Center in February 1993 and the occupation of the Iranian mission in 1992 by five regime opponents. Between 1990 and 1995 there were 32 domestic incidents of terror. And Larry Johnson, a former CIA analyst and State Department Terrorism expert, has argued that Condoleezza Rice’s office suppressed data on the number of major terrorist attacks, which exploded from 175 in 2003 to 651 in 2004, the highest number since the Cold War started to wane in 1985, as well as 32,000 attacks worldwide also in this period (Eland, 2005)

The state of rights Despite these kinds of arguments one could point out that policy and rhetoric do not match the practice. In February 2004, while on a trip to Central Asia, Donald Rumsfeld ignored any criticism of Uzbekistan’s appalling human rights record, instead praising Tashkent’s “stalwart” support in the war on terror, arguing that the Uzbekistan president, Karimov, was a “key member” of this war (ICG, 2004). Uzbekistan and Pakistan are seen as frontline states in the “war” with shared borders with Afghanistan, one of the training grounds for Al-Qaeda. Both are areas in the past where Al-Qaeda flourished. The implication of these approaches, however, indicates that human rights might be overridden with regard to security concerns. The US has criticized the Uzbek regime, so that at times security is prioritized over other universal values. Donald Trump’s first visits overseas were to countries like Saudi Arabia, one of the worst violators of human rights, especially women’s rights, and Israel, which violates the rights of Palestinians to self-determination by the occupation of their lands. Justice cannot exist without respect for human rights. 405

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The preamble of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights states, “Recognition of the inherent dignity and of the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world.” Confronted with a difficult and complex struggle against international terrorism, the US cannot relinquish its traditions of justice and public accountability. The US has long held itself up as the embodiment of good government. Yet it is precisely good governance and its protection of human rights that the US government may be jeopardizing with its post-September 11 anti-terrorist policies (Parker & Fellner, 2005). Already this “state of emergency” has had significant implications, in the US and around the world, in the curtailing of individual rights. Take the case of the young Brazilian electrician shot dead in Stockwell tube station, south London, on July 22, 2005 after being suspected of being a potential bomber. The individual right to life of Jean Charles de Menezes was not respected because the perceived collective security of the larger public was placed as a higher priority. The rights of the individual may have been seen as lesser in nature to the rights of a larger group. However, the conditions themselves that led to the fatality were created by the state’s pursuance of a war on terror, and constitute an abridgment of the individual right to security. A set of fears emerged with the war which have created the conditions which allow for such a tragedy to occur. Several patterns emerge as a result. First, human rights concerns are currently and look set to continue to be outweighed by hard security concerns. The war on terror itself has helped to create a climate of fear and mistrust, in addition to the attack of 9/11 in the US and 7/7 in 2005 in London. It has created a climate of fear and insecurity even amongst the most liberal and erstwhile tolerant members of the community. People who were once liberal in their attitudes towards asylum seekers and refugees have become increasingly conservative towards these groups. A climate of Islamophobia has also developed in North America, with increased attacks on Muslims and people associated with the Muslim faith (European Parliament, 2015).

The intersection of human rights and national security At the heart of the war on terrorism and its relationship with human rights is the balancing act that liberal nation-states must conduct between the security of their citizenry and the protection of basic rights and freedoms. The intersection of national security and human rights principally involves the issue of friction between individual security and state or regime security. There is no contradiction between state interests and individual interests if it is accepted that the state originated in individuals organizing to protect themselves from the perils of anarchy and persisted because it proved cost-effective. So, there is no contradiction between the interests of the government and its citizens. To some extent states are designed in liberal thought to protect the security of individuals, yet they must also secure themselves against dissidents, terrorists, separatists, and agents of enemy governments who might be a threat to the state. Security is a human right. Article 3 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights points out that “everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of person.” These are rights that terrorists seek to abolish when they kill, maim, or injure people. How we balance that right with the larger goals of security is an even more difficult dilemma for the modern nation-state. If tradeoffs between state and individual securities are inevitable, the precise balance is not predetermined, as exhibited by the wide variation in levels of human rights protection throughout the globe. Human rights developed through various stages and over long periods of time, with different setbacks and obstacles along the way. The hope that appeared to be ushered in with the end of the Cold War, that the universalization of rights was on the ascendancy, was not realized as security became the main priority of the nation-state, and rights are now on the defensive. 406

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Given this assessment of the context for human rights in the early 1990s, following the end of the Cold War, and after the tragedy of 9/11, what can we say about peacebuilding and the way it interacts with human rights? We set forth several arguments about peacebuilding and the human rights norms that have developed, as well as the intersection of good governance and the rule of law, which we hold so dear. Following this we assess ways and the practice of protecting the most vulnerable in society by making sure peacebuilding works.

The UDHR as peace innovation Agents of peacebuilding must work to ensure human rights norms are embedded within post-conflict reconstruction strategies. Strategies must include: (1) top-down intergovernmental support for marginalized communities by promoting good governance and rule of law; (2) organizational policy that advocates clear codes of conduct for non-state actors on how to protect marginalized and vulnerable populations; and (3) capacity-building projects that empower communities to see rights as core principles of development and post-conflict reconstruction. If a rights discourse is not entrenched within the core operational principles of peacebuilding, human security becomes compromised and unsustainable. Those working within fragile states and marginalized communities have an obligation to ensure their work strengthens human rights norms within their sphere of influence and responsibility. Basic principles of human security won’t be achieved if peacebuilding actors fail to introduce a human rights approach within their work. Agents of peacebuilding refers to civil society groups, all levels of government, transnational, and intergovernmental organizations (IGOs), as well as the private sector. Basic human rights are outlined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR). Denying these rights attacks the basic fabric of a society and one’s ability to live in dignity free from fear and want. Some, who perceive it as a politically driven set of Western values, criticize the declaration. However, the UDHR was born out of unprecedented mass atrocity witnessed during World War II. Such violence drove the international community to reconsider how governments value human life – hence their adoption of the UDHR. Still, the universal assertions presented within the UDHR are debated by governments and civil society, especially those who operate within fragile states. Actors may minimize the universal rights imperative within their organizational narrative for a range of sociopolitical reasons. Consequently, rights may be perceived as too sensitive to discuss, especially when host governments reserve the right to detain and expel groups they see as a threat to their political legitimacy. Human rights activists must point to the structural failings of domestic governance institutions managed by ruling elites. Rights violations are often endemic in post-conflict societies that suffer from weak state institutions, which may result in high levels of corruption and contribute to a dysfunctional rule of law. In addition, fragile governments may both fear and threaten those who challenge their ability to govern. Still, the UDHR is a milestone in peace innovation because all world governments have signed and ratified at least one rights convention. These conventions demand that human rights are treated as equal, inalienable, and indivisible. Yet competing perceptions of justice, individualism, and cultural relativism all challenge these core notions. For example, cultural relativists often claim that universal values risk establishing neo-colonial worldviews grounded in Western ideology. The Asian values thesis is one of the more influential challenges to universal notions of rights, as it calls for a communitarian worldview where collective rights prioritized by the state take precedence over the individual. 407

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Powerful critiques that question the universal application of human rights shouldn’t be underestimated. Boulden and Kymlicka (2015) rightly point out that the international community is not a homogeneous body of states, because each actor holds diverse governance systems and cultural beliefs. Such realities drive those advocating cultural relativism, who still hold powerful ideational sway in many societies around the world. Nonetheless, while implementing the UDHR is a challenge given the range of diverse global socioeconomic and political systems, we see no sound argument for why basic rights should be denied on cultural grounds. Still as Olyoko-Onyango (2015) notes, building a strong human rights regime is a long-term socioeconomic and political struggle. Ending violent state oppression depends on the political will of individual states to enforce human rights protection at the domestic level. Human rights then become the basis and normative foundation for achieving human security (Oberleitner, 2002). Thus, good governance should be considered a priority for ensuring the sustainability and success of rights protection.

Practicing good governance and rule of law There can be no human security without good governance. The core of these principles demand accountability, transparency, as well as an aggressive defense for an independent rule of law. Both domestic and international peacebuilding stakeholders must work to ensure the strengthening of critical governance architecture that protects human rights. This includes freedom of the press, an independent judiciary, effective anti-corruption laws, strong witness protection programs, and extensive human rights training for law enforcement. While national governments are primarily responsible for ensuring that rights are respected, multilateral organizations, NGOs as well as the business community, have a responsibility to ensure they promote such principles within their respected spheres of influence. States operate within a global anarchic structure that relies on international organizations to facilitate global governance systems. These organizations not only contribute to peacebuilding and post-conflict reconstruction, and assist in establishing global norms and shaping perceptions on what constitutes a legitimate state (Boulden & Kymlicka, 2015). The international community must consider the collective good when regimes undermine human rights, since domestic rights violations contribute to international instability (Cronin, 2007). Indeed, governments that commit atrocities against their own people often produce violent opposition movements and mass refugee flows. Themes of sovereignty may be challenged when governments orchestrate mass violence (Cronin, 2007). Atrocities are often the result of underlying tension and should not be considered spontaneous acts of violence (Cronin, 2007). When they occur, the international community must carefully weight the implications of military intervention as deemed necessary for protecting vulnerable populations within the humanitarian context. Most states agree that some level of intervention at times of humanitarian emergency is justified, but there is fierce debate about how and when such actions should be taken. Still, IGOs work to mainstream and disseminate best practice policy around good governance. Promoting a strong rule of law is an essential objective of peacebuilding and human rights protection that requires long-term support from the international community and political will at the domestic level. The traditional security paradigm falls short when it comes to protecting human security that demands an ideational shift that recognizes the interdependence of humanity that cuts across state boundaries and challenges the Westphalian construct (Hayden, 2004). A human right to peace would serve as a core requisite since “human security is inseparable from conditions of peace” (Hayden, 2004, p. 40). 408

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International organizations provide critical peacebuilding support and reinforce the legitimacy of the current world order (Boulden & Kymlicka, 2015). Cahill-Ripley (2016) writes, “The reasoning behind intervention thus becomes the maintenance of international security and stability rather than addressing the causes of the particular conflict” (pp. 227–8). Liberal peacebuilding becomes a state-building project framed within the context of Western notions of international security, pointing to a deeper challenge based on an assumption that constructing democratic institutions and free markets in fragile states leads to peace. It is especially difficult in states where social inequality and dysfunctional human rights mechanisms have historically been the norm (Cahill-Ripley, 2016). Similarly, contextual dynamics are critical for understanding how global human rights norms emerged through divisive political negotiation and not through universal logic (Boulden & Kymlicka, 2015). What is more, peacebuilders struggle to deliver long-term solutions for addressing the many structural barriers for achieving human rights protection in historically illiberal societies. While IGOs and civil society groups may persuade governments operating in fragile states to accept international human rights norms, states are often unable to uphold these international legal obligations. Governments might sign treaties to build their reputations or to set long-term policy goals, yet they do not have the capacity to enforce such laws. Transnational peacebuilders must find ways to implement good governance norms within a local context. These communities may be experiencing political volatility, endemic corruption, and violence at the hands of their own governments. It is essential that IGOs work on the ground with civil society groups that are independent of the host government. IGO programming that works to strengthen the capacity of communities in operationalizing good governance and rule of law at the local level empowers civil society to demand rights. Thus, new governance theory ensures that IGOs and governments can no longer afford to neglect non-state actors (Ruggie, 2014). Only through a multi-stakeholder process of top-down/bottom-up collaboration between IGOs and other actors can good governance and rule of law programming reach a sustainable outcome, thereby strengthening the domestic human rights regime.

Protecting the vulnerable through international best practice Second, actors must work to protect marginalized and vulnerable populations by ensuring they promote human rights within their organizational sphere of influence and responsibility. Human rights are a basic set of entitlements that all individuals hold, yet they are often violated by governments failing to implement a strong rule of law. It is critical that peacebuilding stakeholders find ways to stand in solidarity with rights victims when they are being targeted by the state. Both international and national NGOs work to raise awareness when populations are threatened. For example, Amnesty International (AI) is an organization concerned with prisoners of conscience who were arrested and detained by governments on account of their belief system. AI’s early work led by British lawyer Peter Benenson galvanized human rights defenders and forced activists to look at how their own governments treated citizens. The group’s work in monitoring and reporting human rights violations is an effective tool for protecting vulnerable populations by giving a voice to the voiceless. Moreover, AI hires locally engaged staff within the communities they are assessing to ensure they understand the cultural and political implications of their work (Savelsberg, 2015). Those operating within post-conflict societies have a responsibility to protect vulnerable populations susceptible to human rights violations. Actors must move to entrench human rights codes of conduct within their organizational structure so that each member of the group understands the significance and fragility of the work. Yet there is no single step for integrating a 409

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human rights approach to peacebuilding (Steinberg et al., 2012). For example, an environmental group working to conserve animal sanctuaries will have a different approach to human rights than a transnational business actor that seeks to provide employment to former combatants. Traditional approaches for building human rights capacity have proven challenging to implement in fragile states. A “human security plus” framework is needed that places human rights at the core of human security strategies to allow for strong focus on the rule of law within the context of peacebuilding (Cahill-Ripley, 2016). One strategy such diverse groups can draw on is the precautionary principle of “do no harm.” Applied to the field of human security, the precautionary principle allows for organizations to self-reflect on their behavior and influence in post-conflict societies. While states remain the only actor capable of legally committing human rights violations, other actors such as business and civil society groups can face charges of complicity. The principle is one tool for ensuring NGOs and business are cognizant of their human rights impact. Another innovative mechanism is for peacebuilding actors to join voluntary governance regimes that provide guidance and best governance practice strategies. For example, some NGOs have standardized their work through such agreements as the “International Non-Governmental Organizations Accountability Charter.” This Charter encourages financial accountability, good governance, and self-reporting strategies for civil society groups. The 27-member collaboration is important for establishing standards on how to establish a code of conduct, ascertain facts, and promote cooperation in the field. These associations help establish organizational legitimacy while encouraging a best-practice baseline for guiding fact-finding missions (Savelsberg, 2015). Still, human security approaches in development may harm human rights since they shift attention away from rights violations (Howard-Hassmann, 2012). These approaches may be preferable to authoritarian states that place economic development above pillars of rights protection such as an independent rule of law, thereby undermining any protection work conducted by non-state actors. However, we hold that a human rights approach to peacebuilding and human security can still have a positive impact in post-conflict societies.

Strengthening rights to empower the marginalized Finally, actors must find ways to empower populations through capacity-building strategies that center on economic development and growth. This requires a strengthening of the social contract between the state and the individual. Improving the capacity of the state is critical in managing core development strategies such as public education, food security, and health. While civil society organizations and the private sector can provide such services in fragile environments, long-term societal dependency on non-state actors as opposed to the government must be minimized. Non-state actors must work with governments to ensure state capacity is improved. Peacebuilders should work to find new and innovative ways to promote social and economic empowerment that aligns with government objectives. This may be unrealistic for some organizations, especially when operating within illiberal regimes that are the cause of human insecurity and suffering. Peacebuilding actors must consider how their programming could eventually converge with a government’s long-term planning. Building human rights capacity of marginalized and vulnerable populations has the potential to empower such groups to claim their rights from the state in the long run. One method for ensuring such development trajectories was proposed by Amartya Sen (2000) who pointed to the development community’s challenge in finding strategies that achieve long-term individual empowerment so that creating these conditions requires peacebuilders to 410

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implement development strategies centered on individual freedom. “Development requires the removal of major sources of unfreedom; poverty and tyranny, poor economic opportunities as well as systematic social depravation, neglect of public facilities, as well as intolerance or overactivity of repressive states” (Sen, 2000, p. 3). Human security requires extensive protection of political rights coupled with strategies on how to enhance individual economic security. Empowering vulnerable communities requires an interdisciplinary understanding of governance and diversity (Boulden & Kymlicka, 2015). This demands that economic and social rights become a priority in post-conflict states so that “a refocusing of priorities is required in terms of development, institution building and reform and control of these processes” (Cahill-Ripley, 2016, p. 237). Such an approach can include reconciliation, development, reconstruction, and local participatory strategies in advocating for strong human rights and peacebuilding along with good governance (Cahill-Ripley, 2016). By placing economic rights at the core of post-conflict reconstruction, political controversies associated with liberal peacebuilding can be minimized. Empowerment also requires post-conflict reconciliation between various groups of combatants and victims. Transitional justice is a central concept to the liberal peace, with victim reparation emerging as an entrenched peacebuilding doctrine (Brett & Malagon, 2013). Encouraging victims of human rights violations to help design “peace architecture” and determine how reparations are allocated empowers stakeholder networks that have been impacted by past violence and seek justice (Brett & Malagon, 2013; Lederach, 1997). Moreover, transitional justice seeks to repair community grievances at the local level (Lambourne & Carreon, 2016). “As part of broader peacebuilding efforts, transformative reparations will look to the past as a means of constructing a just and equitable future through an effort to ‘articulate and harmonize corrective and distributive justice’ in transitional societies” (Brett & Malagon, 2013, p. 260). Reparations can help ensure victims’ ownership of a post-conflict peace infrastructure, thereby establishing a critical human rights mechanism. Finally, entrenching human rights within peacebuilding offers a transformative strategy for post-conflict reconstruction. While rights language is empowering, peacebuilding actors must move beyond discourse focusing on international legal compliance and develop strong human rights programing that can empower the local context (Holland, 2011). There is a correlation between rights awareness and an increased likelihood that victims will report violations (Holland, 2011). Human rights education should include structured and sustainable programming that reaches grassroots groups while showing flexibility, to become incorporated within national curriculum and receive local leadership buy-in (Holland, 2011). Moreover, trainers must continuously perform needs-assessments, evaluating the curriculums impact to ensure the program is localized and adaptable, while ensuring that such education addresses domestic cultural conflict while embedding best practice teaching pedagogies.

Conclusion This chapter has argued that the post-Cold War and post-9/11 period have deeply altered global governance structures that dictate the focus of contemporary security threats in the international community. The emergence of armed non-state actors coupled with new technology and global networks have contributed to conflict, while terrorism has impacted how states enforce and protect human rights. Consequently, human security and peacebuilding must be entrenched within governance systems to ensure new ways of conceptualizing development within post-conflict societies by highlighting key rights debates within the post-9/11 world in the context of human security. Still, we note that such a dialogue would be impossible without the ideational acceptance and entrenchment of the UN Declaration of Human Rights within the international system. 411

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Moreover, post-conflict reconstruction strategies must find ways to embed a rights discourse at the local level. This should involve: (1) top-down governance strategies from the international community to assist marginalized groups by ensuring tools are developed to empower such communities; (2) clear codes of conduct established for NGOs operating in post-conflict zones to ensure consistent international best practice standards are achieved; and (3) capacitybuilding projects that focus on developing a strong rights discourse at the local level. Without clear pathways for promoting and achieving rights protection vis-à-vis support for civil society and private sector advancement, development will not be sustainable.

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35 TRANSFORMING ETHNIC CONFLICT Building peace and diversity management in divided societies Mitja Žagar Public discourses on contemporary societies refer to societies within existing states. Simultaneously, the humanities and social sciences accept states as the logical framework and unit of analysis in studying societies. However, seldom do these public and scholarly representations problematize or present precise definitions and explanations of those terms, concepts, and phenomena. To specify societies we add adjectives. We speak of historic and contemporary societies, preindustrial, industrial and postindustrial societies; premodern, modern, postmodern, and post-postmodern societies; technological, information and knowledge societies, cohesive, cooperative, and divided societies; homogeneous, plural, and diverse societies; etc. Occasionally, some deny the relevance or even the very existence of society. Most famously, Margaret Thatcher (1987), former Prime Minister of Britain, asked, “Who is society?” And answered, “There is no such thing!” Such views remain rare. However, analyses of discussions in public, media, and scholarly publications reveal several views and understandings of societies. Often, they focus on a few dimensions and promote specific ideologies. Some advocate individualism, private ownership, consumerism, effectivity, and capitalist profit-based economies of growth regardless of their social, economic, and environmental consequences. They oppose any kind of state intervention, criticize welfare states, and stress the responsibility of individuals for their lives and destinies. Their opponents promote social inclusion, equality, and justice; solidarity and just distribution of wealth; the common good; the development of welfare states; universal income; a sustainable green economy; and social development. I believe our long-term survival requires that an inclusive, just, and sustainable green economy and cohesive social development replace growth- and profit-based (capitalist) economy and development. Such development will need to consider every individual and community, particularly the needs and social realities of distinct collectivities in each respective environment, This is not to deny the relevance of states as specific types and forms of social organizations and the most important social and international actors. In the past centuries, specific concepts and practices of nation-states have emerged and evolved based upon the ideological concepts of ethnically and otherwise homogeneous single nation-states dominated by titular nations. Their ethnic dimensions and identity are expressed in the determination of the official language(s), symbols, culture, and history promoted by ethnic, social, economic, and political elites of titular nations that aim 414

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to consolidate their domination. Single nation-states seem to be the most effective tools for the realization of the key interests of titular nations and preservation of their social, economic, and political monopolies, even at the expense of minorities. Consequently, dissatisfied minorities, distinct communities, and/or regions might be tempted to secede. Ironically, although they feel marginalized, exploited, and/or repressed by the existing nation-states, lacking viable alternatives they demand their own nation-states that would establish them as new titular nations (Guibernau & Rex, 2010; Keating & Mc Garry, 2001). Existing pluralities, asymmetries, and diversities contradict concepts of (single) nation-states built upon myths of ethnic homogeneity. Diversities are easy to explain. Every individual is unique, different from other individuals. Individuals form diverse groups and communities. Consequently, individual and group characteristics and diversities are multi-dimensional and practically uncountable. Among those characteristics are language(s), culture(s), religion(s), and ethnicity as important factors in the identity process. Diversities among individuals, groups, and distinct communities become socially relevant when (mis)used for social and political mobilization, and become criteria for social, cultural, economic, and/or political divisions and segmentation. When cleavages are persistent and run deep so that they determine the nature and functioning of a certain social environment, we speak of divided societies. States and educational systems promote ideologies and concepts of ethnically homogeneous (single) nationstates of titular nations. They present pluralities, asymmetries, and diversities, particularly ethnic diversity, as problems and obstacles that complicate our lives and reduce the effectivity of our societies (Žagar, 1994). Influenced by them, we might not realize the scope of existing diversities, their content(s), essence, dimensions, interactions, social roles, relevance, and value in respective societies. We fail to recognize the reductionist, exclusivist, and hegemonic nature and content of concepts and ideologies of single nation-states. Scholars and social activists that advocate inclusion and integration should do our best to show that pluralities and diversities are facts that make our lives and environments more interesting, richer, and meaningful. In our diverse world, we enjoy and benefit from the richness and choice of dishes, cuisines, produce, services, information, cultures, literature, music, and art from different parts of the world. These spheres contribute to the richness and wellbeing of our societies. We promote pluralities, diversities, and asymmetries as value added, comparative advantages, and opportunities of specific environments. However, we need to regulate, govern, and manage those pluralities, diversities, and asymmetries to ensure their coexistence, inclusive and productive cooperation, social stability, tolerance, security, and predictability as preconditions for successful sustainable development in the interest of all individuals, groups, and communities. Failing to regulate, govern, and manage asymmetries and diversities properly can lead to the escalation of conflicts, possibly transforming them into violence. The political mobilization of pluralities, asymmetries, and diversities, including ethnic, cultural, and religious identities, the strongest collective identities (Hobsbawm, 1990; Gellner, 1983, pp. 53–8), can be very dangerous, particularly if they are (mis)used by exclusivist ideologies and/or in exclusive, hegemonic ways against and at the expense of other groups. Consequently, activists and scholars need to problematize concept(s), ideologies, and myths of (single) nation-states and ethnically (as well as otherwise) homogeneous societies as ideal goals. We shall expose them as socially harmful, hegemonic, and exclusivist tools that might contribute to instability and the escalation of conflicts in diverse social environments. Nation-states promoted as socially neutral theoretical models, but in practice dominated by political (nationalist) elites, have revealed their exclusive, divisive, and hegemonic nature and consequences. They promote domination of titular (ethnic) nations in respective nation-states 415

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and can cause marginalization of all others, particularly minorities. These exclusive concepts, ideologies, and policies of nation-states as well as their institutions prove unable to deal peacefully, democratically, and inclusively with pluralities, diversities, crises, and conflicts. All too often, nationalist policies and politics are unable to realize the interests and needs of all individuals, distinct groups, and communities (particularly marginalized ones and those that do not belong to titular nations). Consequently, single nation-states with their policies and actions do not succeed in stimulating, promoting, ensuring, and empowering their voluntary, equal, and full (social) inclusion and integration, thereby increasing the dissatisfaction of those that feel excluded, marginalized, and/or suppressed. Their dissatisfaction can result in resentment, revolt, and, possibly, secessionist demands. My research confirms such conclusions (e.g., Žagar, 2007/8, 2010). It shows that the concepts of (single) nation-states as well as nationalistic exclusive, homogenizing, and potentially hegemonic ideologies and policies that attempt to reduce or in some cases eliminate the existing pluralism and diversities do not provide viable long-term solutions for the stable democratic development of diverse societies. Regardless of all criticisms, nation-states remain the dominant model, reality, and institutional framework of contemporary societies. Political elites favor this dominant model and the public sees no viable, socially acceptable alternative. Nevertheless, scholars shall do our best to develop alternative models, organizational and normative frameworks that will be better able to regulate, govern, and manage socially relevant pluralities, asymmetries, and diversities, as well as provide the necessary foundations, solutions, and regulations for our lives, including standards and tax rules for inclusive green sustainable development. Simultaneously, effective solutions and tools within existing nation-states are needed; these include rules, procedures, institutions, strategies, policies, and measures for regulating and managing socially relevant diversities, including effective strategies, policies, and measures for the early detection, prevention, management, transformation, and resolution of conflicts. They are instrumental for all diverse societies, particularly divided ones. This chapter explores approaches to and concepts and practices of diversity management. It derives from the existing scholarly literature and research on ethnicity and (ethnic) identity,1 diversity management,2 conflict management, resolution, and transformation,3 and builds upon my research of ethnic relations, diversity management, and conflict prevention, management, and resolution. It also addresses approaches to and tools of prevention, de-escalation, and transformation of conflicts, particularly open inclusive public dialogue and reconciliation in the context of diversity management.

Ethnicity and identity: Cooperation and conflict As mentioned, contemporary societies are plural, asymmetric and diverse. Ethnicity is one of the dimensions of diversities. It is one of the key dimensions, characteristics, markers, and contents of the identity of individuals, groups, and communities. Historically, the importance of ethnicity in ethnically diverse environments increased when a certain ethnic community tried to establish its dominance at the expense of others (other ethnicities), particularly when states transformed into single nation-states. The terms ethnicity, ethnic group or community, and ethnic are used frequently in discourses that address the presence, importance, and consequences of ethnicity as well as different patterns of ethnic relations in contemporary societies. In almost all societies, people associate and identify with different ethnicities that exist in respective environments or somewhere else, usually considering the ethnic origin of their parents. They recognize ethnicity as an important element of their individual and collective identities and express their belonging and loyalty to respective 416

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ethnic groups and communities. Although studied extensively, there is no universally accepted definition of ethnicity in social sciences and humanities. As the cases of ethnicity, societies, and states show, it is extremely difficult, if not impossible to develop comprehensive and universally acceptable definitions of complex concepts and phenomena as dynamic ongoing and constantly evolving processes within their spatial, temporal, and relational contexts. These considerations apply in studying ethnic identities acquired in ongoing identity processes. Every individual and collective identity as a psychological and social phenomenon is a dynamic complex process. Collective identities influence and (in certain ways) define individual identities of persons and vice versa. For my research, I define collective identities as the feeling of belonging to a certain collective entity (group, community, stratum, institution, etc.) defined by different and individualized objective and subjective criteria. This feeling of belonging and specific individualized criteria should be agreed upon and shared by persons who constitute a respective collective entity (its members). However, a constitutive element of a specific collective identity might be that others (individuals and other collective entities that do not belong to a respective collective entity) also recognize these criteria (Žagar, 2002). This working definition constantly evolves. Ethnic identities refer to ethnicity, ethnic belonging. Collective identities inform (social) insiders from outsiders by establishing accepted criteria that differentiate and delimit us from the others. Consequently, the recognized and individualized criteria and specific collective identities are the basis for the social inclusion and/or exclusion of individuals and other collective entities. Identity processes in a certain environment and time are influenced by social relations and processes, balances of power, social, religious, and political ideologies and programs, individual and collective policies that establish the necessary framework for the contextualization of (social and historical) remembering and forgetting. Ethnic identities are determined by ethnic criteria and markers, such as a common language and culture, shared constituent myth(s) and history, possibly religion. Although those identities and their markers might be considered objective facts, they reflect (subjective) feelings and beliefs of belonging to a specific collective entity determined by criteria and markers declared and/or perceived as common and shared characteristics. Identities can influence social relations. Relations among individuals and collective entities in a certain environment include different types and patterns of coexistence, interaction, and behavior that range from close intense cooperation and mixing to violent conflict. Those patterns include, for example, occasional contacts, cooperation, and exchange; living next to each other without much contact or occupying specific separated niches in a respective environment; different types and intensity of occasional or permanent tension or conflict that, potentially, can escalate if not addressed adequately. From the perspectives of social stability and stable development of diverse environments, socially preferred are peaceful patterns of relations and behavior that build upon tolerance, acceptance, coexistence, inclusion, and equal voluntary integration and cooperation, while intolerant, exclusive, and violent patterns of relations and behavior are considered unacceptable and deviant. These considerations apply also for ethnic relations among individuals who identify with and/or belong to different ethnicities as well as among distinct ethnically determined collective entities (ethnic groups and communities). Often we find that ethnicity does not influence relations and patterns of interaction and behavior. As such, ethnicity, ethnic identity, and the belonging of individuals and collective entities might not be very relevant for their relations and interaction as long as they do not become criteria, borders, and factors for social and political mobilization, particularly in the context of identity processes and ethnic mobilization. Once ethnicity is mobilized, and/or possibly (mis)used it can become a key factor of social divisions/cleavages and possible generator of conflicts. In other words, ethnicity itself is not a source of conflict. However, any social, economic, and political conflict can 417

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transform into ethnic conflict once different and/or conflicting interests are mobilized along ethnic lines and conflicts acquire their ethnic dimension(s). When this happens, addressing those conflicts effectively becomes increasingly difficult.

Tools for diversity management and conflict transformation: Open inclusive dialogue and reconciliation Conflicts carry simultaneously constructive and destructive potentials. To prevent their negative impacts, we must prevent their uncontrolled escalation, particularly their transformation into high-intensity, possibly violent conflicts. The prevention of their uncontrolled escalation is the most effective conflict management and resolution intervention and mechanism. Being unable to prevent the escalation of every conflict, diverse societies need to establish effective mechanisms that can deescalate, manage, and/or resolve conflicts, hopefully, by transforming them into long-term cooperation. Ideally, such cooperation is voluntary, inclusive, and integrative, based upon principles of equality and justice. Its results should stimulate all involved to continue participating in the process and promote cooperation as the best approach to and mode of coexistence in a diverse society. Diversities and ethnicities are not sources of conflicts per se. However, they (or their segments) can be mobilized in the context of conflicts. Consequently, such conflicts can transform into ethnic conflicts. Ethnic and other identity-related conflicts are difficult to address effectively, considering their absolute and exclusive nature as well as intense and fiery emotions. People are not willing to compromise on their identity, belonging, religion/faith, morals, and other values. For this reason, we need to work towards peaceful coexistence, tolerance, inclusion, and integration based on common interests and voluntary equal cooperation in diverse societies. Effective regulation and management of socially relevant diversities is an optimal option, conceived and carried out as a continuous dynamic process that should involve all relevant and interested (social) actors within common approaches, normative and institutional frameworks, strategies, policies, and practices. Studying diversities, ethnicities, and ethnic relations, I have focused on diversity management, the regulation and management of ethnic relations, minority protection, and the prevention, management, transformation, and resolution of conflicts, particularly those with ethnic dimensions. In studying specific divided societies, we paid special attention to communication, coexistence, and cooperation among individuals of different ethnic origins and among distinct ethnic communities, public discourses, normative and institutional frameworks and channels of communication. Studying national and other minorities, we focused on the rights and protection of minorities, human rights, and the national and international regulation and standards of the use of different languages, particularly minority ones. Humans as social beings communicate through languages, which in effect are complex codes that empower their descriptions of realities and expression of complex abstract concepts. Successful communication based on (public) dialogue is instrumental in every society, particularly in multilingual ones.4 For three decades now, I have studied interactive communication and the use of dialogue, particularly public dialogue as a tool in conflict prevention, management, transformation, and resolution, as well as the regulation and management of socially relevant diversities. Simultaneously, I have developed the concept of open inclusive public dialogue as the analytical research tool and yardstick. As an invited external expert, observer, advisor, trainer, mediator, or arbiter in specific situations and environments, I have also used this concept as a tool and technique for practical work in conflict prevention, management, and resolution. Impressed by the results 418

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of the Dialogue Group’s process in Carinthia, Austria,5 I accepted an invitation to join their activities, develop common projects and the concept of open inclusive public dialogue, building upon experiences of dialogue between the German-speaking Austrians represented by their national-defensive associations and the Slovene minority represented by minority organizations, institutions, and activists in Carinthia. We extended activities to Slovenia that included new actors and we started to address relations between Austria and Slovenia. The project includes social and political activists, civil society associations and organizations (including minority ones), researchers, as well as higher education institutions from both countries. The participants initiated the development of the research and action project “Building Peace Region Alps-Adria” (PRAA, 2016) with the long-term goals of gradually including all countries in the broader Alps-Adriatic-Danube region to establish a peace region there. For this project, I am developing the definition and concept of open inclusive public dialogue. A dialogue truly becomes public when the public, interested individuals and groups as well as different associations, organizations, and institutions in a respective environment, has access to it and can interactively participate in it. As a means of communication, public dialogue is a dynamic, possibly asymmetric mix of different forms and formats that can be described as monologues, dialogues, and polylogues. Participants in communication can use them to bring the messages across to target audiences. As a tool for successful diversity management in diverse societies, ongoing open inclusive public dialogue determines a dynamic, complex, and interactive process of communication between at least two, but usually more persons/individuals or collective entities accessible to the broader public. Its characteristics include the following. -

Communication processes are open and inclusive regarding topics and their contents that are discussed. Each actor involved in the process can suggest topics and contents. All actors decide freely and voluntary in a democratic way, preferably by consensus which topics, when, and in which order are included. Divisive topics, conflicting views, and interpretations that might escalate tensions and conflicts in respective environments need to be addressed. - Public dialogue is open and inclusive regarding the participants as all are interested actors with different roles in the process. All actors, individuals, and collective entities can freely and voluntarily decide on their involvement and role as well as on the duration and nature of their involvement. Societies should ensure the necessary conditions and possibilities for the universal accessibility of the public dialogue process and adequate inclusion of all interested actors. Public dialogue processes are approaches and tools for social inclusion and the equal, full, voluntary, and free integration of participating actors. - Open inclusive public dialogue as an approach, method, and tool for interactive communication, social inclusion, and integration, as well as for successful regulation and management of socially relevant diversities, is organized and sustained as an ongoing process, permanently accessible to all interested actors. By addressing socially relevant topics, the dialogue process contributes to the social stability, cohesion, and consensus necessary for successful development. Addressing the past, present, and future in order to come to terms with them, open inclusive public dialogue processes could contribute to envisioning the common future of respective societies hopefully based upon the concept of sustainable and green (environment-friendly) social and economic development. - Open inclusive public dialogue processes require determined and clear procedural rules, particularly regarding the participation, position, and role of actors as well as the role and competencies of institutions, including the media and institutions of respective states. Considering forms and types, dialogue processes can combine (in different ways and combinations) focused thematic and general dialogue, formal institutional and informal 419

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dialogue, structured and unstructured dialogue, and egalitarian and hierarchical dialogue, etc. Participants can use different formats and techniques as well as different technologies, technical means and platforms, such as information technology (IT), media (including digital forms), social networks and IT platforms and communities, etc. - To preserve the democratic nature of open inclusive public dialogue processes, the inclusion and access of actors, the agenda, contents, and scope should not be limited restrictively and/or censored by authorities. Potential institutional interventions, particularly the use of repressive mechanisms and means should be strictly regulated and limited to cases determined by laws and court orders. - As an approach to, method, and tool of successful diversity management, open inclusive public dialogue processes are important in the prevention (of escalation), management, and resolution of crises and conflicts. Defined that way, processes of open inclusive public dialogue can be instrumental for the inclusion and social integration of individuals and communities as well as for democracy and democratic processes in plural and diverse contemporary societies, particularly those divided along different cleavage lines. Such dialogue can contribute to developing visions, concepts, strategies, and policies of tolerance, coexistence, cooperation, and sustainable development, particularly by formulating viable alternative solutions for the present and future. Coming to terms with the past, conflicting interpretations of the past, past divisions, and wrongdoings in diverse societies is instrumental for envisioning a common future. Often reconciliation is suggested as an optimal approach, possibly combined with lustration after regime change. In past decades, we could have followed such discussions in several countries in Central, Eastern, and South-Eastern Europe, Africa, and Latin America. However, only a few countries have actually opted for and carried out formal reconciliation processes that require substantial social and political consensus, as well as the adoption of adequate legislation and political documents. This normative framework is necessary for determining the nature, framework, and content of the processes as well as their procedures, time-span, and institutional structures, usually in the form of Truth (and Reconciliation) Commissions. Each reconciliation process is specific and unique.6 As a dynamic, complex, formalized, yet unpredictable process aiming to build cooperative relationships in a divided society, reconciliation includes critical components such as truth, justice, mercy, and peace (Lederach, 1997). Formalized activities within the process of coming to terms with the past divided into organized steps shall contribute to overcoming divisions and replacing fear and violence with nonviolent coexistence, cooperation, and empathy by promoting and building tolerance, confidence, and trust.7 Successful reconciliation seems more likely in environments committed to (re)building democracy, tolerance, peaceful coexistence, and cooperation where a clear-cut division between parties exists, where victorious sides request and promote such a process, and where all parties agree to deal with the past objectively. There should be consensus that: In the process of reconciliation perpetrators should come forward and confess their wrongdoings (usually violence, crimes and/or atrocities); express and accept their guilt, responsibility and remorse; and ask their victims for forgiveness, which, ideally, the victims are expected to accept at least formally. Such reconciliation can be viewed as a process of purification and consensus building that contributes to the reduction of social tensions and historic traumas in post-conflict societies. (Žagar, 2010, pp. 157–8) 420

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In the absence of these preconditions, particularly the full commitment of all parties, the chance of reconciliation being a success is doubtful. Further, reconciliation can become a threat to social stability and reinforce historic traumas.

Conclusion Long-term stability, coexistence, and successful cooperation in diverse environments require coming to terms with the past, present, and future, particularly in formulating and developing common visions, principles, strategies, and policies for a sustainable future. Based on the positive experiences and results of workshops, the dialogue process, public events, and gatherings as well as research findings, the PRAA project suggests that the ongoing process of open inclusive public dialogue is an effective option, approach, and tool for addressing socially relevant and particularly divisive issues regarding the past, present, and future. The cohesive potential of such dialogue processes are important for the promotion of the full, equal, and voluntary inclusion and integration of all individuals and collective entities in a certain environment, for their political, economic, and social participation in all spheres of life as well as for developing common successful sustainable development strategies based upon the broadest possible social consensus. Reconciliation and open inclusive dialogue are not socially, ideologically, or value neutral. They are reflections of values, value systems, and religions and ideologies, particularly dominant values that (co)exist in a certain environment. Considered a two-way process that requires the acceptance and agreement of all participants, reconciliation builds on certain missionary elements, recognition of responsibility and remorse by perpetrators and the concept of forgiveness on behalf of victims as well as the public and authorities. Such an approach is characteristic of Christian theologies,8 particularly the Catholic traditions with confession and absolution. Consequently, reconciliation might be incompatible with predominant values, traditions, and ideologies in some environments and considered a partial institutional design that rewards wrongdoings and their perpetrators.9 These criticisms do not apply to open inclusive dialogue processes. Reconciliation and open inclusive public dialogue as approaches, methods, techniques, and tools, as well as segments of diversity management, can contribute to the successful regulation and management of socially relevant diversities. They build upon principles of equality, justice, the rule of law, inclusion, integration, and full respect for people’s human rights and freedoms and can complement other permanent and temporary institutions and bodies established by the normative – constitutional and legal – systems of the respective states. They can contribute to long-term visions and strategies of social development agreed upon in a respective society as well as to the improvement of community relations and stability, the promotion and development of equal, voluntary, and free inclusion and integration of all individuals and collective entities. However, reconciliation is more past oriented. As a concept, open inclusive dialogue is predominantly future oriented and addresses (socially) relevant issues from the past, present, and future. Although successful reconciliation is believed to contribute to better relations and stability in an environment torn apart by conflict, paradoxically, its success requires a rather stable situation, functioning (of channels and rules of) communication, tolerance, and coexistence. Technically, as forms of communication in reconciliation, monologue and dialogue are used, while polylogue appears only occasionally. Communication within reconciliation might occasionally resemble open inclusive dialogue. However, it lacks the open and inclusive nature of open inclusive public dialogue as usually new content and participants cannot be included in reconciliation. In processes of open inclusive public dialogue, particularly in addressing divisive past issues and in coming to terms with the disputed past, several 421

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elements of reconciliation processes might prove useful. However, the dialogue processes should remain open and inclusive. I would conclude that, although generally open and inclusive, public dialogue might be a better option, approach, method, technique, and practice of regulating and managing socially relevant diversities in plural societies, both concepts can and should be considered as complementary, implemented alone or in different combinations when best suited to specific circumstances, needs, and interests in a certain environment.

Acknowledgments This chapter is based on research and expert activities funded by the ministries responsible for science, research and development in Slovenia, the Slovenian Research Agency, the European Commission, the Council of Europe, the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe, and the United Nations.

Notes 1 See, e.g., Anderson, 1993; Barth, 1969; Brown, 2000; Hutchinson & Smith, 1994, 1996; Jenkins, 1997; Keating & Mc Garry, 2001; Kymlicka & Straehle, 1999; Nairn, 1997; Schlesinger, 1987; Schöpflin, 2000; Smith, 1991. 2 For a presentation of the historic evolution of the concept of diversity management, see Žagar, 2007/8, pp. 307–27. 3 See Azar, 1990; Bercovitch, 1996; Bush & Folger, 1994; Byrne, 2001; Sandole et al., 2009; Curle, 1990; Darby & Mac Ginty, 2000; Francis, 2002; Galtung, 1996; Galtung et al., 2002; Hauss, 2001; Hoffmann, 1996; Horowitz, 2000; Jeong, 2005; Kaufman, 2001; Lederach, 1995, 1997, 2003; Marshall & Gurr 2005; Pugh, 2000; Richmond, 2005; Richmond & Carey, 2005; Rothman & Olson, 2001; Rupesinghe, 1995; Ryan, 2007; Saunders, 1999; Stavenhagen, 1990;Vayrynen, 1991;Volkan, 1997. 4 Scholars recognize the importance of dialogue. See Anderson, Baxter & Cissna, 2004; Bakhtin, 1986; Bohm, 2009; Buber, 1984; Freire, 2001; Spano, 2001.They agree that successful communication, including dialogue among relevant actors and interethnic dialogue in linguistically and ethnically diverse societies, is instrumental for their stability and development. See Burton, 1996; Galtung, 2000; Máiz & Requejo, 2005; Schoem & Hurtado, 2004. 5 See Feldner & Sturm, 2007; Guibernau & Rex, 2010; Petritsch et al., 2012; Graf & Brousek, 2014. 6 For more on normalization, peacebuilding, transformation, and reconciliation in post-conflict societies, see Senehi et al., 2010, pp. 1–266. 7 This process requires the cooperation of all parties involved in a conflict and can be summarized in Galtung’s simple equation “Reconciliation = Closure + Healing; closure in the sense of not reopening hostilities, healing in the sense of being rehabilitated” (Galtung, 2001, p. 4). 8 In this context, I use the plural to indicate differences within Christian religions, considering religious rituals and practices as well as theologies. 9 For a more comprehensive discussion, see Žagar, 1994, 2002, 2010.

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Mitja Žagar Petritsch, W., Graf, W., & Kramer, G. (Eds.) (2012). Kärnten liegt am meer: Konfliktgeschichte/n über trauma, macht und identität. Klagenfurt, Celovec: Drava/J. Heyn. PRAA (2016) Building the Peace Region Alps-Adria: Envisioning the Future by Dealing with the Past: Open and Inclusive Public Discourse within Austria and Slovenia and between the Countries. Graz, Austria: University of Graz. https://homepage.uni-graz.at/de/juergen.pirker/projekte/peace-region-alps-adriatic/ Pugh, M. (Ed.) (2000). The Regeneration of War-Torn Societies. Basingstoke, UK: Macmillan. Richmond, O. P. (2005). The Transformation of Peace. Basingstoke: Palgrave. Richmond, O. P. & Carey, H. (Eds.) (2005). Subcontracting Peace: The Challenges of NGO Peacebuilding. Aldershot, UK: Ashgate. Rothman, J., & Olson, M. (2001). From interests to identities: Towards new emphasis in international conflict resolution. Journal of Peace Research, 38(2), 289–305. Rupesinghe, K. (Ed.) (1995). Conflict Transformation. Basingstoke, UK: Macmillan. Ryan, S. (2007). The Transformation of Violent Intercommunal Conflict. Aldershot, UK: Ashgate. Sandole, D., Byrne, S., Sandole-Staroste, I., & Senehi, J. (Eds.) (2009). Handbook of Conflict Analysis and Resolution. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Saunders, H. (1999). Public Peace Process: Sustained Dialogue to Transform Racial and Ethnic Conflicts. New York: Palgrave. Schlesinger, P. (1987). On national identity: Some conceptions and misconceptions criticized. Social Science Information/Information sur les sciences sociales, 26(2), 219–64. Schöpflin, G. (2000). Nations, Identity, Power: The New Politics of Europe. London: Hurst & Co. Schoem, D., & Hurtado, S. (Eds.) (2004). Intergroup Dialogue: Deliberative Democracy in School, College, Community, and Workplace. Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan. Senehi, J., Ryan, S., & Byrne, S. (2010). Peacebuilding, reconciliation, and transformation: Voices from the Canada–EU conflict resolution student exchange consortium. Peace and Conflict Studies, 17(1), 1–266. Smith, A. D. (1991). National Identity. Reno, NV: University of Nevada Press. Spano, S. (2001). Public Dialogue and Participatory Democracy: The Cupertino Community Project. Cresskill, NY: Hampton Press. Stavenhagen, R. (1990). The Ethnic Question: Conflict, Development and Human Rights. Tokyo, Japan: United Nations University. Thatcher, M. (1987). Interview for Woman’s Own (“no such thing as society”). Sept. 23. Margaret Thatcher foundation. www.margaretthatcher.org/document/106689 Vayrynen, R. (Ed.) (1991). New Directions in Conflict Theory. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Volkan, V. (1997). Bloodlines: From Ethnic Pride to Ethnic Tensions. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux. Žagar, M. (1994). Nation-states, their constitutions and multi-ethnic reality: Do constitutions of nationstates correspond to ethnic reality? Journal of Ethno-Development, 3(3), 1–19. Žagar, M. (2002). Enlargement – the search for a European identity. In A. Brandsma, S. Ertel, P. Farrer (Eds.), Proceedings Forum Bled: Enlargement Futures Project. Seville, Spain: Institute for Prospective Technological Studies, European Communities. Žagar, M. (2006/7). Diversity management and integration: From ideas to concepts. European Yearbook of Minority Issues, 6(1), 307–27. Žagar, M. (2007/8). Human and minority rights, reconstruction and reconciliation in the process of state- and nation-building in the Western Balkans. European Yearbook of Minority Issues, 7(1), 353–406. Žagar, M. (2010). Rethinking reconciliation: The lessons from the Balkans and South Africa. Peace and Conflict Studies, 17(1), 144–75.

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PART VIII

Global responses to conflict

36 AND WHAT ABOUT THE AFRICAN AMERICANS? Peace and conflict studies neglect of the intractable conflict related to systemic racism in the United States Imani Michelle Scott “Someone asked me, ‘why is she so hostile’? That’s what he asked me,” said my colleague. It was a late afternoon in July 2015: the summer following the police killing of unarmed 18-year-old Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri. A few hours before sharing this comment with me, my peace and conflict studies (PACS) colleague and I had just concluded the question and answer session of our co-presentation to a group of international peace scholars at a University of Toledo-hosted peace conference. Our topic addressed police violence against and killings of unarmed blacks in the United States (US). To this day, my co-presenter’s words have remained with me as a reminder of how my intense emotional responses to the remarks of audience members that afternoon must have led at least one to perceive my pain as anger and my frustration as hostility. And while I make no apologies for my emotions, I do wonder about their impact on my heartfelt efforts to share meaning with those assembled. To be clear, my responses were based less on anger and hostility than they were on annoyance, confusion, and disappointment with those among my peace education colleagues whose post-presentation comments suggested, in my view, a lack of empathy for and concern about what I deemed the far too frequent lethal circumstances confronting African American life and liberty at the hands of state actors in the US. For example, instead of supporting our presentation’s call to join us in promoting widespread truth-telling opportunities for African American victims of police violence, one suggestion was made that we carry out fewer public demonstrations and encourage more dialogue and negotiation tactics between community leaders and law enforcement personnel. Similarly, another proposed that more might be accomplished by African Americans through diplomatic means, rather than through marches and protests as reactions to the killings. And while employing dialogue-centric tactics to attend to police violence is a legitimate conflict resolution tactic that has been and continues to be employed in numerous community-centered initiatives throughout the US, the egregious historical and contemporary nature of police violence against unarmed suspects compels a more complex assortment of responses, including public protest. After all, as the American Civil Liberties Union has noted, “the right to join with fellow citizens in protest or peaceful assembly is critical to a functioning

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democracy and at the core of the First Amendment” privileges afforded US citizens (ACLU, 2018). And in fact, an argument can be made that, were it not for the historical tradition of African Americans and other marginalized groups engaging in public protests and peaceful assemblies to draw global attention to social injustices within the US, many of the gains made through social movements might have never been achieved. In fact, it has overwhelmingly been through nation shaming the US by exposing the nation’s dire duplicity and hypocrisy (where the lofty ideals outlined in its founding principles and creeds have been contradicted by its commission of and allowing of crimes against humanity within its borders) that social movements within the country have garnered success. In hindsight, I have spent many hours reflecting on the facts, data, personal narratives, news reports, and videos in our presentation, and I have wondered even more intently about the varied reasons for the seeming academic coolness and detachment from some among my colleagues during that session. I wondered, for example, did they not sense the fear and urgency in our call? Were their lukewarm responses possibly produced by their beliefs that the atrocities, which troubled us, were less urgent than those that troubled them in their own homelands? Or had they succumbed to American propaganda, which has largely succeeded in dehumanizing and criminalizing African Americans in the eyes of a great many persons abroad? Of course, all, some, or none of these scenarios might explain their responses. But whatever the reasons, I left the event feeling an all too familiar nauseous sensation that once again my peace education colleagues were generally incapable of empathizing with my too frequent feelings of helplessness related to living in a racist nation where black lives are not respected, black bodies are not wanted, and the collective, healthy survival of the black populace is perpetually dubious. Fortunately, all was not lost that afternoon as there were several rays of light suggesting that a few amongst our cohorts that July empathized with our call. Particularly, the response from a woman who approached me at the end of our session to shake my hand, look me intently in the eyes, and simply say: “I hear you,” stays with me. And it is her words which inspire my writing in this chapter, where I: (1) present evidence of the intractable conflict reflected in perpetual legacies of state-subsidized racial oppression, terrorism, and injustice against blacks in the US, (2) share contrasting institutional responses to this conflict, and note how PACS, as a discipline of higher education, is complicit in a failure to adequately address systemic racism in the US, (3) propose that as a uniquely situated and privileged area of academia, PACS (especially in the US) has a moral responsibility to effectively include among its cadre of concerns and interventions the enduring African American struggles for rights, justice. and security, and (4) outline a series of steps and measures PACS faculty, scholars, and practitioners might take to engage in honest self-reflection about their choices and opportunities to impact all socially oppressive structures, and not just those of the socially privileged, politically nonthreatening, and economically enervated. The social construction of race is an exceedingly powerful socio-institutional tool of oppression established on the fallacy of race, for which there is no genetic or biological basis (Adelman et al., 2003). Even so, this delusion of race – so “central to the justification of imperialism, colonialism, African slavery, Jim Crow, apartheid, the color bar and the color line” (Mills & Mills, 2012, p. 1) – is directly related to systemic racism, and the political economy of socio-institutional oppression. It is my hope that after reading this chapter, my PACS colleagues will join me in a conscious and concerted embrace of the challenges and opportunities to engage in the difficult conversations, and seriously apply scholarship, practices, and program initiatives to support the deconstruction of the illusion of race, and thereby, the power of racism. 428

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The granddaddy of all conflicts: Systemic racism in the United States Like that in previous centuries, life as an African American in a 21st-century US proves intensely complicated, conflicted, volatile, and uncertain. Similar to the millions of blacks who lived in the 1600s, 1700s, 1800s, and 1900s, African Americans living in the early 2000s are bound by the realities of socioeconomic conditions reflecting tragic losses, daunting setbacks, and rampant disparities in comparison to our white counterparts. To be fair, amid the losses and setbacks there have been major advances in some educational, economic, and political arenas, including most prominently the election of Barack Obama as the nation’s first black President. However, extensive research by numerous organizations paints a picture of two steps forward, one step back, where setbacks, stalls, and inequities in African American life circumstances are profuse. For instance, in a recent and extensive study of the African American community conducted by the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation (2017) findings indicate that among those surveyed: ••

•• •• ••

More than 50 percent reported experiences of racial discrimination in the workplace (hiring, promotions, and compensation), perceptions of race-based bias during interactions with law enforcement (detentions, arrests, and sentencings), and being recipients of racial slurs and offensive, race-based comments. More than 40 percent reported personal encounters with racial violence. Over 30 percent reported avoiding making calls to police for help, and nearly 30 percent reported avoiding driving – all of this in efforts to steer clear of any potentially harmful encounters with police. Over 90 percent believe discrimination based on race is still a problem in the US.

Additional research supports the perceptions and beliefs of those surveyed. For example, even though African Americans represent only 13.3 percent of the US population (US Census Bureau, 2017): •• •• •• •• •• ••

The Criminal Justice Fact Sheet (2018) indicates that the overall incarceration rate of African Americans is more than five times that of whites. The Office of Minority Health (2017) indicates that African Americans have more than twice the rate of infant mortality than whites; this reflects a wider racial disparity in infant mortality than that which existed in the 1850s (Villarosa, 2018). The watchdog group, Mapping Police Violence (2018) reports that, in 2017, blacks represented 25 percent of those killed by police, and as of this writing blacks are three times more likely to be killed by police than whites. The Criminal Justice Fact Sheet (2018) states that African American children represent 32 percent of arrests and 42 percent of detentions, and African American women are incarcerated at a rate nearly twice that of white women. Rates of upward and downward economic mobility between African Americans and whites continue to vary substantially, despite accounting for education and parental status (Chetty et al., 2018). The Centers for Disease Control (2017) report that African Americans risk earlier death from heart disease, cancer, high blood pressure, and diabetes than whites, and black adults are on average seven times more likely than whites to die from homicide.

For the generations of African Americans living with the daily and too often deadly realities of enduring, systemic racism in the US, the costs continue to exact a heavy toll on the 429

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communal group’s psychological health. For example, in their estimation, Brown and Wallace (2014) proposed that the prolonged practices and policies related to racism in the US have produced a type of intergenerational, “communal neuroticism” within the African American community. And based on her research, Dr. Joy DeGruy (2005) has proposed that members of the African American communal group continue to struggle with a series of negative and harmful responses perpetuating what she has termed: post-traumatic slave syndrome. According to Dr. DeGruy’s (2005) research, the propensity for African Americans to display “vacant esteem,” along with intense feelings of anger, hopelessness, depression, and self-disdain, can be directly linked to centuries of living under systemic oppression where they have been marginalized, dehumanized, and demonized. Even so, there has been no global consistency amid institutional responses to rectify these consequences. In fact, institutional responses have ranged from recent condemnation at the international level, to cursory acknowledgments coupled with contemptible silence at the national level, to complicity at the academic level.

Institutional responses to US racism Condemnation from the United Nations In August 2014, the United Nations (UN) Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination (CERD) issued statements condemning US treatment of African Americans when it wrote: “Racial and ethnic discrimination remains a serious and persistent problem in all areas of life from de facto school segregation, to access to health care and housing” (Pulliam-Moore, 2014, p. 1). Going even farther, some 18 months later the UN’s Office of the High Commission on Human Rights (2016) called on US officials to address what it deemed “urgent” legacies of racial oppression and contemporary levels of catastrophic racial injustice. UN experts went on to add, “The legacy of slavery, post-Reconstruction ‘Jim Crow’ laws and racial subordination in the United States remains a ‘serious challenge’ as there has been no real commitment to recognition and reparations for people of African descent” (UN News, 2016, p. 1). In the words of Mireille Fanon Mendes France, head of the UN Working Group, The persistent gap in almost all the human development indicators, such as life expectancy, income and wealth, level of education, housing, employment and labour, and even food security, among African Americans and the rest of the US population, reflects the level of structural discrimination that creates de facto barriers for people of African descent to fully exercise their human rights. (2016, p. 1) In linking the history of injustices to present-day police killings of blacks in the US, the UN determined that the US owed reparations to African Americans as a type of “compensation [made] necessary to combat the disadvantages caused by 245 years of legally allowing the sale of people based on the color of their skin” (Mason, 2016, p. 1). Hence, while violent oppression has most certainly occurred throughout the history of humankind across the globe, that relating to the experiences of African Americans is a distinguishable, centuries-old set of intractable human rights abuses symbolized by contemporary practices of injustice, violence, and indeed, terrorism based on state-endorsed social constructions of race. That it took some 70 plus years since its founding for the UN to begin formally issuing statements condemning racial violence and terrorism distributed at the hands of US subsidized actors and agencies intimates the powerful political and economic influences that the US has wielded to effectively 430

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silence, for decades, the voices of international leaders and institutions from engaging in any nation shaming of the country. Ironically, some of the sentiments expressed by the UN were referenced nine years prior in a series of less direct and publicized statements by leaders of the US Congress.

Confounded and conflicting reactions from the US Just nine years prior to the above noted UN declarations, the US House of Representatives and the US Senate took giant steps towards a moral accounting for America’s treatment of African Americans when they passed House Resolution 194 (2008) and Senate Resolution 26 (2009). Marking the first time that the full US Congress united to offer formal apologies to the African American community for “centuries of brutal dehumanization and injustices,” these historically unprecedented declarations went beyond apology to acknowledge the continual plague of the nation’s systemic racism by admitting that: “African Americans continue to suffer from the complex interplay between slavery and Jim Crow – long after both systems were formally abolished – through enormous damage and loss, both tangible and intangible, including the loss of human dignity.” Theoretically, the two Resolutions were especially significant since they served as formal, public admissions of the nation’s shameful truths. Practically however, since no actions were taken to correct the acknowledged atrocities and little to no publicity followed their issuance, the Resolutions offered no relief for African Americans. That it took more than 400 years since the US first began its inhumane and brutal treatment of persons of African descent for its political leaders to issue statements admitting to human rights atrocities, and in the case of House Resolution 194 (2008) committing to recompense African Americans for those atrocities, speaks volumes about the sociopolitical choices and pressures to obscure and subsequently avoid accounting for this ugly history. This centuries-long delay in formally recognizing US sins is disturbing, but not surprising; even the United States Institute of Peace (USIP), America’s Congressionally created and funded “conflict management center,” attends to “reducing violent conflicts abroad” while in effect ignoring human rights abuses and violent conflicts within the nation’s own borders (2018). During a speech in 1964 to a group of laborers, human rights advocate Malcolm X talked about the danger of such duplicity when he stated: There is no system more corrupt than a system that represents itself as the example of freedom, the example of democracy, and can go all over this earth telling other people how to straighten out their house, when you have citizens [in the United States] who have to use bullets if they want to cast a ballot. (Breitman, 1965, p. 50) In other words, corruption and oppression are at their most dangerous when they flow from postulated streams of egalitarianism, which are in actuality, floods of oppression, domination, and control. Unfortunately, the USIP fulfills this purpose. According to its website, the USIP is an “independent, non-partisan organization [intended] to deal with conflicts before they escalate, reduce government costs and enhance [US] national security” (2018). However, despite these claims, the USIP has noticeably done nothing to deal with frequently escalating racial conflicts, address the costs (e.g., for funds and resources to deploy the National Guard and other paramilitary forces; repairs to inner cities; losses to life and property) of those conflicts, or enhance national security concerns which might be linked to systemic racism in the US. Instead, the organization rationalizes its focus on concerns external to US borders 431

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by bolstering propaganda, which supports widespread perceptions of threat from the terrors beyond in so-called “conflict and war zones” (i.e., regions of Iraq, Afghanistan, Columbia, and Nigeria, and the Middle East), while pretending the non-existence of threat from any terrors within (e.g., conflict-zone cities like Overtown, Miami; Los Angeles, California; Crown Heights, New York; Ferguson, Missouri; Baltimore, Maryland, and Charlottesville, Virginia, where deadly US-based violence has occurred). Focusing on asserted threats from territories external to the US does more than just ignore internal wickedness within US borders, it also feeds the patriarchal need of the hegemony to build a sense of these territories’ dependence on the US to resolve “problems” (which, truth-be-told are often by-products of the colonialist project) as a type of nation building while simultaneously demonizing the policies, practices, and peoples of those nations. To buttress these types of hegemonic interests, political and economic influences are also used to strategically direct the US system of education, especially that of higher education, away from engaging in scholarship and research which might draw attention to the country’s internal problems related to racial conflict, human rights abuses, and so-called conflict zones. The result has been a US-based system of education crafted to reinforce and perpetuate the nation’s deeply embedded structural oppression based on race.

Complicity from academia “We like to think of education as a mix of thoughtful learning processes. Allegiance and socialization, however, are intrinsic to the role of schooling in our society or any hierarchal society” (Loewen, 1995, p. 308); and herein lies the problem: a disconnect between ideals and reality. The institution of education, along with those of politics and religion are among the most strategically influential socializing agents contributing to the oppression of humankind. And while education in its purest form may indeed be a path of enlightenment at the level of the agent, systems of institutional education are quite the opposite, and this disingenuousness is exceedingly harmful. Some 85 years ago, African American Historian and Educator, Dr. Carter G. Woodson wrote in his acclaimed book, The Mis-education of the Negro (1933) that “the educational system as it has developed both in Europe and America [is] an antiquated process [that] has been worked out in conformity to the needs of those who have enslaved and oppressed weaker peoples” (p. xii). Decades later, a study commissioned by the Kirwan Institute for the Study of Race and Ethnicity would issue findings which confirmed the continued exploitation of the institution of education to appeal to the benefits and interests of the oppressor. In the 2011 report of the Kirwan Institute’s findings, William B. Harvey, Dean of the School of Education at North Carolina A & T State University, noted that the US system of higher education was designed and intended to reinforce values related to white supremacy, the dominance of Western European ideals, and racism. This reinforcement of white supremacist values has been especially effective in maintaining and even bolstering systemic racism throughout the nation because “knowledge, as endorsed by the intellectual community, ebbed over into the other foundational structures of society since the leaders of those institutional pillars received their training and credentials in the academy” (Harvey, 2011, p. 7). The Dean added: The higher education community, with its acceptance of white supremacy, willingly promulgated a warped ideology that served as the basis for the construction of an interlocking complex of political, economic, social, artistic and religious structures, which through their vigorous reinforcement of the central concept, discouraged changes or challenges to the system. (Harvey, 2011, p. 7) 432

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These observations suggest that the entire institution of higher education has been complicit, directly or indirectly, in the perpetuation of systemic racism. If we regard this supposition as true, then we might conclude that PACS too, as a discipline of academia, has engaged in such complicity. And while prima facie this may be a corollary of the weaponization of education for political and economic gain, with regard to PACS it is an especially disturbing possibility; after all, the perpetuation of any type of oppression stands against the foundations of the discipline. And, therein lies the dilemma. For, as distasteful and unwelcome as the thought of PACS feeding the monster it is designated to deconstruct may be, I propose that, where systemic racism is concerned, this is indeed the case.

The negligence of PACS to adequately address systemic racism In my effort to locate comprehensive, objective data on the degree to which the content of peace education programs in the academy reflects a commitment to the analysis and study of racism, race issues, and racially fueled conflict, I reviewed two, publicly available collections of PACS program descriptions: The College Guide to Peace Studies Programs compiled by peacecolleges. com, and the Global Directory of Peace Education Programs compiled by the International Institute on Peace Education. The College Guide lists 44 US and Canadian-based college and university (undergraduate and graduate-level) peace education programs. Upon reviewing the full guide, I found the word “race” appeared in only two program descriptions (Marquette and Tufts universities), and the word “racism” did not appear in any of the program descriptions. In my review of the Global Directory, which describes global peace education programs in academic and nonacademic settings, none of the descriptions of listed institutions referenced “race” or “racism.” Now, this does not mean that none of the programs listed in the Guide or the Global Directory have courses in race, racism, or racial conflict or address those concepts in their programs. It does, however, suggest that highlighting concerns related to resolving conflict associated with race and racism is not significant to the degree that it is worthy of noting in program descriptions. Additionally, even though neither the Guide nor the Global Directory are all encompassing with regard to PACS programs throughout the world, their prominence as the two primary, publicly accessible sources of collective information on PACS in the academy intimates their significance. Summarily, the absence of sufficient PACS fervor on the study of race issues or systemic racism, combined with the apparent propensity for the institution of higher education to reinforce oppressive social structures, supports my concerns and sheds, to some degree, light on the types of integrity-based moral and ethical challenges facing PACS today. In his caution against any propensity for PACS to echo the violence it claims to protest Cormier (Chapter 29 in this volume) proposed, it is critical that our discipline model the peace culture we hope to facilitate between or with others. Understanding the ebb and flow of cultures within the confines of the structures that harbor violence [will] allow researchers in PACS to consider how the culture within our discipline may evolve into a culture of violence and consider how this influences our approaches towards peacebuilding. With Cormier’s words in mind, we are left with the following questions. Do the tenets of PACS obligate it to perform scholarship and inform practice with a clear, unencumbered moral distinctiveness from other academic fields? Or, is PACS, too, an academic tool which directly or indirectly supports the interests of the oppressor? And if it is not such a tool, then what must PACS do to follow the road less traveled in higher education, wherein courageous and 433

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bold curricula and programs are implemented to advance the study of all types of oppression, including systemic racism in the US?

Crafting a more authentic, socially responsive PACS PACS is a relatively young discipline, which essentially “emerged after World War I and II as educators sought to prevent future wars by teaching for peace” (Bajaj, 2015, p. 154). Since some of the greatest challenges to any new area of study involve establishing its academic and theoretical foundations, legitimizing its scholarly nature, defining its parameters, and defending its necessity, it might be fair to say that PACS is still experiencing growing pains in all of these areas. This would account for reasons that the discipline’s methodologies continue to be challenged and contested, “with increasing calls over the past decade for a ‘critical peace education’ that attends to power” (Bajaj, 2015, p. 154), among other social concerns. Clearly, if PACS more adequately attended to concerns of power, I would feel less compelled to appeal for its attention to systemic racism. Despite being in its formative stages, PACS is in fact a worldwide, interdisciplinary powerhouse boasting thousands of educators and practitioners whose interests include peacebuilding, peacemaking, and peacekeeping across a broad spectrum of specialties, from anthropology to law to communication, psychology, and sociology. According to The Guide to Peace Studies Programs, typical PACS programs include a variety of themes, ranging from studying values related to nonviolence and social justice, to designing and implementing peacebuilding initiatives and interventions. In fact, “Peace and conflict studies education in recent decades has become a popular approach to social justice learning in higher education institutions” (Kester, 2017, p. 235). Thus, one might presume that the racially charged conflict concerns impacting African Americans in the US – especially with regard to issues of human security and social justice – would have prominent placement among PACS curricula and programs. However, because it is not just a discipline of study but also a stakeholder in the business of education, it appears that PACS has been reticent to buck its political economic power base and risk nation shaming the US by highlighting the ongoing prevalence of systemic racism within its borders. After all, drawing attention to what wealthy political and economic benefactors most want it to avoid (e.g., their intent to dominate) would surely risk the sustainability and profitability of PACS. On the other hand, if PACS were to devote even one-fifth of the attention and resources it currently dedicates to appeasing benefactor and proprietary conflict concerns to that of systemic racism in the US, its ability to thrive financially and politically might well be at risk but its integrity would be more firmly intact. I suggest, it is this selectivity of causes that is the greatest challenge to the authenticity and integrity of PACS. And this challenge is especially daunting in an era where more and more US educational institutions face threats to traditional values like academic freedom and critical thinking as a consequence of influence from wealthy donors’ intent on exacerbating the very types of oppression for which PACS proclaims disdain. It appears to me that PACS may be sidestepping the political and economic landmines of some volatile issues while walking directly into a battle where its legitimacy and longevity will forever be contested. Now, if this seems a stretch then consider: there is no shortage of PACS attention given to: (1) mainstream conflict interests (school violence, bullying, workplace violence, facilitation, mediation, arbitration, negotiation) of the political and economic elite who hold the cultural capital (see Bourdieu, 1986) and (2) religious, political, and intercommunal/ethnic conflicts in politically and economically indolent regions of the world (i.e., Southeastern Europe, Asia, Africa, and South America) external to the US. By selectively targeting its scholarship, research, and resources to concerns which shrink from its 434

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moral responsibility to attend risky topics like that of systemic racism, PACS then becomes suspect as one of the most dangerous types of oppression: that which pretends, as Malcolm X suggested, to be the exact opposite. In his commentary on the moral responsibility of higher education, Sandalow (1991) proposes that, in spite of its initial designs, the academy is increasingly pressed to play a more significant role in attending to issues of “social morality” and having “some responsibility for addressing pervasive social issues” (p. 150). Given its stated democratic underpinnings, PACS in particular would seem to have a moral obligation to confront and influence such persistent social concerns, in all their various forms. In fact, PACS is the ideal “‘pedagogy of resistance’, or critical and democratic educational model [to be] utilized by social movements” (Bajaj, 2015, p. 154) to confront socioinstitutional inequities, conflict, and violence. As PACS continues to grow, I have full confidence in its capacity to become this ideal: the pedagogy of resistance to the political economy of domination; the academic field of unrelenting and unprejudiced critical and democratic inquiry; and the “go to” discipline for the advance of all peace and social justice movements, not just a select few. It is with this confidence that I share the following suggestions to begin guiding the way for PACS to attend to issues associated with systemic racism in the US and the ongoing struggles of the African American communal group: 1 Actively recruit students and faculty of African American ethnicity into US-based PACS programs. When combined, the number of white and Hispanic students enrolled in PACS in the United States is 4.5 times the number of “black or African American” categorized students (Datausa, 2014). This is problematic on two fronts. First, it highlights the disparity in enrollment; addressing this gap will allow for greater cultural representation in PACS. Second, it demonstrates the conflation of race (black) and ethnicity (African American), even though they are different. The black Nigerian students’ experiences, interests, and contributions to PACS will be unlike those of the black African American student. 2 Build institutional relationships with Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCU). 3 Collaborate and partner with African American Literature, Race Studies, and African American History programs of study. 4 Introduce scholarship and materials (books, documentaries, articles, interviews, guest speakers) representing African American voices as resources for students. 5 Ensure that all syllabi include topics of study related to race, ethnicity, and racism. 6 Establish scholarships, fellowships, and other research opportunities, which target the consequences of systemic racism, e.g., police violence, health disparities, and economic inequities.

Conclusion In this chapter, because I find it both necessary and practical, I have attempted to intellectualize an issue very near to my heart with the hopes of making a difference in the way PACS considers its responsibilities to address the intractable conflict of systemic racism in the US. I have argued that unless the abundant historical and contemporary consequences of systemic racism in the US are met with the potency of PACS programs, research, and praxis the integrity of the discipline will be at stake; after all, this conflict in particular offers a true test of the very foundation of PACS. Finally, I have proposed that if PACS is to remain true to its principles, stakeholders have a moral responsibility to address all relevant social issues, regardless of external forces. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. proposed, “The function of education is to teach one to think intensively and to think critically – Intelligence plus character, that is the goal of true education” 435

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(King, n.d.). In my reflections on Dr. King’s statement, I have been most impressed by his use of the word “true” as a modifier; and I am convinced this was no mistake. For if the word true (i.e., pure, authentic, right) were removed or replaced, the goal, and indeed the outcome of education might be linked to any array of traits less noble than intelligence and character. Now I ask you, as PACS moves forward, will it represent true education? Or, will PACS continue to function as higher education was intended: “a paternalistic social action apparatus” (Freire, 1999, p. 55) wherein marginalized groups are created and maintained based on “deposits,” which perpetuate social norms to benefit the privileged? If there will be a commitment to true education, there is no better time to begin than today.

References Adelman, L., Herbes-Sommers, C., Strain, T., Smith, L., & Cheng, J. (Producers) (2003). Race: The Power of an Illusion (DVD). United States: California Newsreel. http://newsreel.org/video/ RACE-THE-POWER-OF-AN-ILLUSION American Civil Liberties Union (2018). Rights of Protesters. Washington, DC: ACLU. https://www.aclu. org/issues/free-speech/rights-protesters Bajaj, M. (2015). “Pedagogies of resistance” and critical peace education praxis. Journal of Peace Education, 12(2), 154–66. http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/17400201.2014.991914 Bourdieu, P. (1986). The forms of capital. In J. Richardson (Ed.), Handbook of Theory and Research for the Sociology of Education (pp. 241–58). New York: Greenwood. Breitman, G. (Ed.) (1965). Malcolm X Speaks: Selected Speeches and Statements. New York: Grove Weidenfeld. Brown, T., & Wallace, B. (2014). Collective neuroticism: Consequences and manifestations of communal trauma. In Scott, I. (Ed.). Crimes Against Humanity in the Land of the Free: Can a Truth and Reconciliation Process Heal Racial Conflict in America? (pp. 43–71). Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-CLIO. Centers for Disease Control (2017). Newsroom.: https://www.cdc.gov/media/releases/2017/p0502-aahealth.html Chetty, R., Hendren, N., Jones, M., & Porter, S. (2018). Race and Economic Opportunity in the United States: An Intergenerational Perspective. Cambridge, MA: NBER. www.nber.org/papers/w24441 Criminal Justice Fact Sheet (2018). www.naacp.org/criminal-justice-fact-sheet/ Datausa (2014). Peace studies and conflict resolution. https://datausa.io/profile/cip/3005/ DeGruy, J. (2005). Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome: America’s Legacy of Enduring Injury and Healing. Portland, OR: Uptone Press. Freire, P. (1999). Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Continuum. Harvey, W. (2011). Higher Education and Diversity: Ethical and Practical Responsibility in the Academy. The Kirwan Institute. www.kirwaninstitute.osu.edu/reports/2011/11_2011_HigherEducationandDiversity.pdf International Institute on Peace Education (2018). Where in the world to study peace education? Global Directory of Peace Education Programs. www.i-i-p-e.org/study-peace/ Kester, K. (2017). The United Nations, peace, and higher education: Pedagogic interventions in neoliberal times. Review of Education, Pedagogy and Cultural Studies, 39(3), 235–64. King, Martin Luther, Jr. (n.d.). Quotes. www.brainyquote.com/quotes/martin_luther_king_jr_402936 Loewen, J. W. (1995). Lies my Teacher Told me: Everything your American History Textbook Got Wrong. New York: Simon & Schuster. Mapping Police Violence (2018). https://mappingpoliceviolence.org/ Mason, E. (2016). UN panel says the US owes reparations to African-Americans. Sept. 29. www.pbs.org/ newshour/nation/reparations-african-americans-un Mills, C., & Mills, T. (2012). Racism and the political economy of domination: www.newleftproject.org/ index.php/site/article_comments/racism_and_the_political_economy_of_domination Office of Minority Health (2017). https://minorityhealth.hhs.gov/omh/browse.aspx?lvl=4&lvlid=23 OHCHR (2016). UN expert group urges the US to address legacies of the past, police impunity and racial injustice crisis. www.ohchr.org/en/NewsEvents/Pages/DisplayNews.aspx?NewsID=17001 Peace Colleges (n.d.). The College Guide to Peace Studies Programs. www.peacecolleges.com/ Pulliam-Moore, C. (2014). UN Committee condemns US for racial disparity, police brutality. Aug. 29. www.pbs.org/newshour/nation/un-committee-condemns-us-racial-disparity-police-brutality

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And what about the African Americans? Robert Wood Johnson Foundation. (2017). Discrimination in America: Experiences and views of African Americans. National Public Radio. Online, available at: https://www.rwjf.org/content/dam/farm/ reports/reports/2017/rwjf441128 Sandalow, T. (1991). The moral responsibilities of universities. In D. Thompson (Ed.), Moral Values and Higher Education (pp. 149–71). Provo, UT: Brigham Young University. United Nations (n.d.). Charter. http://www.un.org/en/sections/un-charter/un-charter-full-text/ UN News (2016). UN experts urge US to address legacies of the past, police impunity and “crisis of racial injustice.” https://news.un.org/en/story/2016/01/521182-un-experts-urge-us-address-legaciespast-police-impunity-and-crisis-racial US Census Bureau (2017). QuickFacts: United States. www.census.gov/quickfacts/fact/table/US/ PST045217 US Congress (2008). H.Res. 194. (110th): Apologizing for the enslavement and racial segregation of African-Americans. www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/110/hres194/text US Senate (2009). S.Con.Res. 26 (111th): A concurrent resolution apologizing for the enslavement and racial segregation of African Americans. www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/111/sconres26/text/es United States Institute of Peace (2018). www.usip.org Villarosa, L. (2018). Why America’s black mothers and babies are in a life-or-death crisis. Apr. 11. www. nytimes.com/2018/04/11/magazine/black-mothers-babies-death-maternal-mortality.html Woodson, C. (1933). The Mis-education of the Negro. Washington, DC: Associated Publishers.

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37 PEACEBUILDING TECHNIQUES OR PRAXIS Stephanie P. Stobbe

Conflict resolution (or peace and conflict studies, PACS) has grown tremendously over the past 30 years as a recognized discipline in universities and as a profession. Conflict resolution courses, research, books, and journals have become increasingly available to those studying, researching, and working in peacebuilding. In North America, different processes have been developed since the 1930s and 1940s to settle disputes in labor-management through conciliation, mediation, and arbitration. Neighborhood and community justice programs, family mediation, and consumer and employment dispute resolution are now common processes to address conflicts (Singer, 1994). Even though these programs are recent developments in North America, community mediation has existed in many cultures around the world for thousands of years. Dissatisfaction with many top-level political approaches to peacebuilding has led to the examination of grassroots processes of conflict resolution. Traditional or Indigenous peacebuilding processes emphasize the importance of relationships in building peace at the interpersonal, national, and international arenas. The academic world is beginning to recognize the vital role local communities have in resolving conflicts through culturally appropriate methods (Avruch, 1998; Avruch & Black, 1991; Cohen, 2004; Fry, 2006; Lederach, 1995; van Tongeren et al., 2005). Recently, Indigenous and traditional processes of conflict resolution are being explored (Abu-Nimer, 2003; Stobbe, 2015; Adebayo et al., 2014; Tuso & Flaherty, 2016; Yassine-Hamdan & Pearson, 2014; Zartman, 2000). PACS encompasses a wide range of peacebuilding practices from individual, third-party, extra-legal, and truth and reconciliation commissions, to international processes. Recognizing that individual processes of negotiation and third-party mediation, arbitration, and adjudication are fundamental to conflict resolution, this chapter focuses on nonviolent action, truth and reconciliation commissions, diplomacy, the United Nations, and regional organizations as mechanisms to address large-scale structural conflicts. The praxis of peacebuilding is as varied as the myriad of cultures around the world, and as the discipline continues to grow so too will the knowledge and practice of positive peacebuilding.

Extra-legal processes: Nonviolent action According to the Conflict Resolution Spectrum, there is a continuum of processes to address conflicts. Once individual and third-party processes have been utilized, extra-legal processes are to be pursued before the last resort of violence. These are practices that are outside legal 438

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boundaries, such as nonviolent action. Kelman (2015) identifies some common features between nonviolent action projects and problemsolving workshops: (1) both are models for social change at the systems level; (2) both rely on cumulative effects of small efforts; and (3) both involve methods that demonstrate what future relationships can be like. Nonviolent action is a tool for social change and a lifestyle that contributes to peace. Nonviolent action covers a wide range of activities that are undertaken openly to make a public statement (Vellacott, 2000). According to Adam Curle (1990), nonviolence is “achieving without harm to ourselves or others, things that are normally thought to be attainable only through violence” (p. 145), and that it is both an attitude and action. A number of theorists have contributed to the philosophy and practice of nonviolence, including Henry David Thoreau, Leo Tolstoy, Mohandas K. Gandhi, Dorothy Day, Martin Luther King Jr., Gene Sharp, and Ursula Franklin (Vellacott, 2000). This section focuses on the philosophy and practices that underlie the principled nonviolence of Gandhi, followed by the pragmatic nonviolence of Sharp.

Principled nonviolence Mohandas K. (Mahatma) Gandhi (1869–1948) is an architect of nonviolent action, a method to fight injustices and to bring about social change. Gandhi, a lawyer trained in England, spent 20 years in South Africa before becoming a leader in India’s independence movement against British rule (Fischer, 1991). He developed a new philosophy and nonviolent technique for effecting social and political change called satyagraha. Satyagraha refers to nonviolent coercion or “truth force/soul force” that is used to address struggles for freedom, justice, and equality. It emphasizes the “will” as a pre-requisite for change: (1) psychological change from passive submission to self-respect and courage; (2) recognizing that the subjects make it possible for the regime to coexist; and (3) building determination to withdraw cooperation and obedience (Fischer, 1991). Gandhi developed fundamental rules governing campaigns, codes of discipline for volunteers, and steps in a satyagraha campaign that focused on truth, nonviolence, and self-suffering (Bondurant, 1988). To embark on a nonviolent campaign demands a soldier’s discipline, courage, and readiness to face danger (Curle, 1990). Gandhi practiced peaceful forms of civil disobedience, and India gained independence from Britain in 1947; however, its partition into the Muslim state of Pakistan and Hindu-dominated India left the potential for ongoing conflict. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. (1929–68), a Baptist minister and leader of the American Civil Rights Movement, combined the principles of Christianity with Gandhi’s techniques to successfully force the US Congress to pass the 1964 Civil Rights Act which outlawed discrimination based on race, color, religion, sex, or national origin. Gandhi had noted, “it may be through the Negros that the unadulterated message of nonviolence will be delivered to the world” (Ackerman & Duvall, 2000, p. 333).

Pragmatic nonviolence Gene Sharp (b. 1928), founder of the Albert Einstein Institute that is dedicated to the study of nonviolent action, provides an indepth study of the politics of nonviolent action in a three-part book series titled, Power and Struggle, Methods of Nonviolent Action, and The Dynamics of Nonviolent Action (Sharp, 1973a, 1973b, 1973c). Based on Gandhi’s philosophy and techniques as well as others, Sharp provides a political analysis of nonviolent action and power in part one. Then in part two, he describes 198 methods of nonviolent action in detail, grouping them under the categories of protest and persuasion, noncooperation, and intervention. Finally, in part three, he examines the dynamics of nonviolent action and how to engage in political jiu-jitsu in dealing 439

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with violent repression. In Waging a Nonviolent Struggle: 20th Century Practice and 21st Century Potential, Sharp (2005) builds on his previous work and examines major case studies of successful nonviolent action. The text includes lessons learned from nonviolent campaigns and other practical advice to improve this method. Sharp’s nonviolent action methods were used by the Serbian-based nonviolent conflict-training group, Centre for Applied Nonviolent Action and Strategies, to remove President Mubarak of Egypt from power, and by Serbia’s Otpor! student campaign to overthrow President Milosevic’s regime in Serbia (York, 2001). Curle (1990) states that Gandhi is the exemplar of the “nonviolent warrior” (p. 147) whose phenomenal spiritual insights and political acumen were inspiring to Martin Luther King, Jr., Cesar Chavez, and others. Parekh (1997, p. 95) notes Gandhi’s greatest contributions lie in requiring people to think afresh about things taken for granted and forcing dialogue on these issues. Gandhi’s moralistic vision encouraged compromise and accommodation, and avoided dogmatism and fanaticism (Parekh, 1997). Vellacott (2000) highlights the power of nonviolence to effect social change, the importance of training for self-discipline and positive group dynamics, and positive communication mechanisms for reducing tensions between leaderships. Obviously, nonviolent action comes at significant cost, and criticisms of nonviolent action include the length of time it takes to effect change, the difficulty of remaining nonviolent when violence is being used by the state to harm protesters, and the dominance of men in nonviolent group leadership positions (Vellacott, 2000).

Truth and Reconciliation Commissions Truth and Reconciliation Commissions (TRC) have become common processes to discover and document systemic racism that resulted in violence, human rights violations, and genocides by governments. Numerous commissions have taken place over the past 50 years, usually in response to brutal military governmental regimes that used violence to control political opponents – including kidnapping, torture, and mass murder. In South America, Argentina held a truth commission beginning in 1983 to investigate the disappearance of thousands of government opponents during military rule (1976–83). Similarly, Chile’s 2003 commission sought information about those who died and went missing during Pinochet’s regime (1973–90); Paraguay’s truth and justice commission ended in 2008 addressing Stroessner’s dictatorship (1954–1989); and Colombia’s 2017 TRC investigated the 52-year war between multiple actors that victimized civilians (Rausch, 2017; USIP, 2017a, 2017b, 2017c). The most well-known TRC was established in South Africa in 1996 to investigate gross human rights violations during the apartheid regime (1948–91). Its success propelled many countries to promote and engage in various forms of the TRC model, including more recent commissions in South America, Canada (2009), and Nepal (2014). This section discusses the Truth and Reconciliation Commissions in South Africa and in Canada.

South Africa South Africa had 300 years of colonial rule by the Portuguese, English, French, and Dutch. The first half of the 20th century saw Indigenous Africans lose power, land, freedom of movement, personal autonomy, and dignity. The 1913 Native Land Act gave the majority of Indigenous Africans only seven percent of land. Between 1948 and 1994, the National Party government enforced the apartheid policy that supported racial segregation and legislations which created distinct categories of humans (e.g., the Prohibition of Mixed Marriages and Population Registration Acts). Black Africans experienced forced removals, political disenfranchisement, 440

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and regulated professional and entrepreneurial activities. After many years of struggle, the anti-apartheid movement culminated in a democratic election allowing the African National Congress (ANC) to win a majority, and installed civil rights leader Nelson Mandela as the first African president of South Africa (Graybill, 2002). The TRC, established in 1995, drew on the openness and collectiveness of the African concept of ubuntu (the essence of being human and collective personhood), and was created as a judicial structure to address injustices from that period and bring about healing (Huyse, 2001a, 2001b; Masina, 2000; Tutu, 1999). The mandates of the TRC were to: (1) draw up an inventory of violations of human rights committed between 1960 and 1993; (2) grant amnesty to persons qualified; (3) allow victims an opportunity to tell their stories; and (4) produce a final report to prevent future violations of human rights (Huyse, 2001b). The commissions were designed to handle human rights violations, amnesty, reparation, and rehabilitation in a non-adversarial way. Chaired by Archbishop Desmond Tutu, the TRC was regarded as successful in moving South Africa forward from the apartheid regime. Dullah Omar, former Minister of Justice, stated that the TRC was a “necessary exercise to enable South Africans to come to terms with their past on a morally accepted basis and to advance the cause of reconciliation” (Tutu as cited in Watson, 2007, p. vi). It was the first commission to hold public hearings, allowing both victims and perpetrators to be heard. The TRC faced a number of challenges, including the unexpected overwhelming number of applications (more than 7,000 amnesty applications). However, despite numerous challenges, the TRC was an excellent example of how an indigenous justice system could be implemented in a restorative way at the national level (Jantzi, 2004).

Canada Canada looked to South Africa for a larger scale process to address its systemic 20th-century human rights abuses against Aboriginal people forced into residential schools, the last of which closed in 1996 (Macdonald, 2015). Canada launched its TRC in 2009 as a five-year project, to address the impact of colonial oppression on 150,000+ First Nations, Metis, and Inuit children who were forcibly removed from their families by the government and sent to residential schools run by Christian churches. Thousands suffered physical and sexual abuse during their time in the schools (TRC of Canada, 2014), and many of the 75,000 survivors continue to experience social, economic, and other problems, and intergenerational trauma stemming from their experiences (Macdonald, 2015). Justice Murray Sinclair, chief commissioner of the Canadian TRC, focused on documenting the traumatic experiences that had been passed from generation to generation, in the hopes of rebuilding the relationship between Aboriginal peoples and other Canadians (TRC of Canada, 2014). The TRC invited over 70 honorary witnesses from Canada and around the world (politicians, human rights advocates, athletes, artists, broadcasters, and others) to listen to survivors and to share what they have learned (Bohle, 2017). The goals of the TRC were to: (1) acknowledge residential school experiences, impacts, and consequences; (2) provide holistic, culturally appropriate, and safe settings for students, families, and communities to discuss their stories; (3) witness, support, promote, and facilitate truth and reconciliation events at national and community levels; (4) promote awareness and public education of Canadians on the Indian Residential School (IRS) system and its impacts; (5) identify sources and create a complete, publicly accessible historical record of the IRS system and its legacy; (6) produce a report, including recommendations to the Government of Canada, concerning the IRS system and experience, and the ongoing legacy of residential schools; and (7) support commemoration of 441

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former IRS students and their families (TRC of Canada, 2014). As the TRC recommendations continue to be worked on, Canada’s National Research Centre at the University of Manitoba houses videos, survivors’ audio-recorded statements, digitalized archival documents, photographs, and other works.

International processes As the world becomes more and more integrated in terms of technology, economics, and travel, it is vital for international communities to be involved in fighting injustices and human rights violations. International processes to resolve conflicts are necessary for overall peace in our world. This section discusses a few international processes, including peacebuilding activities, diplomacy, the United Nations (UN), and regional organizations used to address violent conflicts.

Peacebuilding The intervention, prevention, and transformation of conflict are extremely complex, requiring multi-level systems of analysis, interdisciplinary understandings, and holistic views of conflict situations. Lederach (1997), in Building Peace: Sustainable Reconciliation in Divided Societies, identifies actors and peacebuilding foci to assist in peacebuilding efforts. Top Leadership consists of military, political, and religious leaders with high visibility. Their approaches involve high-level negotiations and emphasize ceasefires. Middle Range Leadership are leaders from respected sectors who are part of insider-partial teams, which include ethnic and religious leaders, academic and intellectual leaders, and humanitarian and non-government organizational (NGO) leaders. Their approaches include problemsolving workshops, conflict resolution training, and peace commissions. Finally, Grassroots Leadership consists of local leaders, leaders of Indigenous NGOs, community developers, local health officials, and refugee camp leaders. The Grassroots Leadership approaches involve local peace commissions, grassroots training, prejudice reduction activities, and psycho-social work in post-war trauma. Lederach (1997) emphasizes the importance of collaboration between all levels of leadership in peacebuilding, and that the Middle Range Leadership can be a bridge between the Top Leadership and Grassroots Leadership in restoring and rebuilding relationships. Peacebuilding requires the participation of grassroots individuals, groups, and organizations, working with others at various levels. Montville (1990) concurs that, “Only the participants in the multitude of ethnic conflicts around the world can know how the effective mourning of losses can be accomplished. And it will probably require various forms of nontraditional, supplemental, or track-two diplomacy to reveal the critical psychological tasks in potentially successful peacemaking strategies” (p. 540). Integrated frameworks for peacebuilding involve a number of people from all levels of society, including local leadership and participation (Byrne & Carter, 2000; Byrne & Keashly, 2000; Diamond, 1996; Diamond & McDonald, 1996; Jeong, 2005; Lederach, 1997). Communities and NGOs need to work together and address such needs to be effective at the economic, political, and social levels, from grassroots to policy levels with the assistance of Track One and Track Two actors (Clements, 2004).

Diplomacy Track One diplomacy involves top-level leaders, including governments, religious, or military leaders, who play a vital role in diplomacy and peace talks. Their approaches include facilitating negotiation, mediation, ceasefires, and peace agreements. For example, Jimmy Carter, President of 442

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the United States from 1977 to 1981, played a vital role in diplomacy when he facilitated mediation between President Anwar el-Sadat of Egypt and Prime Minister Menachem Begin of Israel, resulting in the historic peace agreement at Camp David (Singer, 1994). The need for high-ranking, high-powered mediators or brokers is thought to be particularly important in Middle Eastern negotiations, as these cultures value status, national pride, and leaders with great authority (Khuri, 1997, as cited in Yassine-Hamdan & Pearson, 2014). The successful peace settlement between Egypt and Israel was significantly helped by Carter’s high rank, the face-saving role in shuttle diplomacy, and America’s leverage with Israel (Bercovitch, 1989; Yassine-Hamdan & Pearson, 2014). Track One diplomacy receives a lot of attention in international peacebuilding. Former President Bill Clinton, during his presidency, supported peace processes in Northern Ireland and assigned former US Senator George Mitchell to lead the talks that led to the Good Friday Peace Agreement in 1998, bringing an end to the 30-year conflict (BBC News, n.d.). Angela Merkel, Chancellor of Germany (2005–) and the de facto leader of the European Union, cautiously navigated the euro crisis and Greece’s debts/default that began in 2010 to allow the EU to continue (BBC News, 2017). Bill Clinton’s “flexibility as a mediator contributed to the success of the Wye River agreement regarding the Israeli redeployment plan in the West Bank” (Yassine-Hamdan & Pearson, 2014, p. 24). Track Two diplomacy refers to non-government/professional actors who are engaged in peacemaking through conflict resolution. These actors include academics, researchers, practitioners, theoreticians, and former Track One people. These non-state leaders are involved in the analysis, prevention, resolution, and management of conflicts. Unofficial discussions often allow these actors more latitude than they would find in formal settings, thereby creating opportunities to examine underlying root causes of conflict and fostering mutual empowerment and collaboration. They are facilitators in problemsolving workshops, mediators or consultants in peacemaking processes, go-betweens, organizers of conferences and education events, participants in dialogue groups, and so forth (Diamond & McDonald, 1996). To assist the facilitators, Diamond (1999) developed a dialogue method to transform conflict. This method includes: (1) creating a safe space; (2) affirming the purpose is learning; (3) using appropriate communication skills; (4) surfacing what is hidden; (5) focusing on relationships; (6) staying through the hard places; and (7) having a willingness to be changed by the situation. Notter and Diamond (1996), in Building Peace and Transforming Conflict: Multi-Track Diplomacy in Practice, discuss how conflict transformation, structural peacebuilding, and multi-track diplomacy are vital to the work of the Institute for Multi-Track Diplomacy (IMTD). The IMTD project is a long-term commitment with an invitation-only entry. The goals are to help local communities take responsibility for their success, to empower community members, and to transform violent structures through a system of nine tracks. Storytelling processes also empower the grassroots, building on local knowledge and peacemaking systems (Senehi, 2015, 2009). These nine tracks include governmental, professional conflict resolution, business, private citizen, research/training/education, activism, religious, funding, and public opinion/communication, all working together for peace. Diamond and McDonald (1996), in Multi-Track Diplomacy, discuss the importance of a systems approach to building peace. The principles behind this approach require a multidisciplinary view; individuals and organizations working together; a systems approach; and track-specific perspectives, approaches, and resources.

The United Nations Fifty-one countries committed to peace, international cooperation, and collective security created the UN at the end of World War II, October 24, 1945. Currently, there are 193 countries 443

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that are members of the UN. The UN is central to global efforts to solve problems that challenge humanity as it promotes respect for human rights, protection of the environment, fight against diseases, promotion of development, and reduction of poverty. The UN Charter states its purposes are to: (1) maintain international peace and security; (2) develop friendly relations among nations; (3) cooperate in solving international problems and promote respect for human rights; and (4) be the center for harmonizing the actions of nations (United Nations, 2017). In terms of maintaining international peace and security, the UN’s operations focus on three areas: peacemaking, peacebuilding, and preventative deployment (Morrison, 2000). Peacemaking involves a range of actions, from peaceful to forceful, in bringing hostile parties to an agreement and moving states towards conflict resolution. Peacebuilding includes post-conflict activities designed to sustain and entrench peace settlements (e.g., disarm former belligerents, hold or destroy surrendered weapons, supervise repatriation of refugees and prisoners, train new security personnel, set up and monitor new elections, entrench human rights, and restrengthen governments and institutions). Preventative deployment refers to the prevention of war before it erupts or at its outset, and before it becomes intransigent (Morrison, 2000). Today, the UN is increasingly facing problems in dealing with intra-state conflicts: “Many of the most severe and persistent threats to global peace and sustainability are arising not from conflicts between major political entities but from increased discord within states, societies, and civilizations along ethnic, racial, religious, linguistic, caste, or class lines” (Klare, 2000, p. 243). Those intra-state conflicts grow into larger conflicts across borders and are already deeply entrenched before they gain the attention and mandate of the international community. For example, the Rwandan Genocide (1993–4) was a tragic example of how the lack of international action in a timely manner contributed to over 800,000 deaths and 2 million refugees (Encyclopaedia Britannica, n.d.-b). The UN Security Council, composed of representatives from 15 countries, has been tasked with handling these issues, yet there are increasing concerns surrounding its effectiveness in addressing conflicts. Some criticisms include the inability of members to agree, cooperate, and finance peacekeeping operations, while the military staff committee is only composed of five permanent members (United States, China, Russia, the UK, and France); the five permanent members have veto power over any cooperation and action; the UN has no standing military force and must rely on its members to provide personnel; and several current powers are not represented in the 15-member Security Council (e.g., Germany, Japan, India, Brazil, South Africa) (Taras & Ganguly, 2002, p. 111). The “primary problem facing the UN in intra-state conflict is the issue of sovereignty: does it have the right to intervene in the affairs of a sovereign state?” (Taras & Ganguly, 2002, p. 256).

Regional organizations Many intra-national conflicts are impacted by instability in regional areas. This is evident in many conflicts around the world – the civil war in Syria (since 2011), the longstanding civil discord in Sudan (1962–72, 1983–2005, 2013–), and in the stateless ethnic minority Rohingyas in Myanmar. According to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) Global Trends Report, there were an unprecedented 65.6 million forcibly displaced people worldwide in 2016, including 22.5 million refugees, 40.3 million internally displaced, and 2.8 million asylum seekers. Thirty-seven countries admitted a total of 189,300 refugees for resettlement, or 1 percent of refugees under the UNHCR’s mandate; 84 percent of the world’s refugees are hosted by developing nations (UNHCR, 2017). The impact on neighboring countries is a significant concern that needs to be addressed. 444

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The role of regional security organizations in international peace and security have gained renewed attention since the end of the Cold War (Caballero-Anthony, 2002). The European Union (EU) is a unique economic and political union, established after World War II in 1945. Today, the EU consists of 28 member states that share a single market, including freedoms in moving goods, services, people, and money, and 19 out of the 28 countries use a single currency (EU, 2017). The EU’s ideals of a peaceful, united, and prosperous Europe have encouraged its role in preventing conflicts and building peace. In 2012, the EU was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for “advancing the causes of peace, reconciliation, democracy and human rights in Europe” (EU, 2017). The objectives of the EU are found in the 2007 Treaty of Lisbon, including promoting the wellbeing of its peoples, upholding and promoting its values and interests, and contributing to the protection of all its citizens (EU, 2007). The Treaty clearly states its commitment to promote freedom, peace, security, and justice. In light of the UK voting in a 2016 referendum for Brexit and leaving the EU, a number of issues will need to be negotiated over the next few years as the countries transition into a new relationship, including the issue of the hard border between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland. There are several regional organizations in Southeast Asia, including the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), the ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF), and the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC). ASEAN is a regional intergovernmental organization with ten member states, established in 1967 by Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore, and Thailand; and later joined by Brunei (1984), Vietnam (1995), Myanmar (Burma), Laos (1997), and Cambodia (1999). It has external relations with Australia, Canada, China, the European Union, Germany, India, Japan, New Zealand, Norway, Pakistan, Republic of Korea, Russia, Switzerland, and the US. It also partners with the UN (ASEAN, 2017). The purposes of ASEAN include accelerating economic growth, social progress, and cultural development in the region through joint endeavors, promoting regional peace and stability through abiding respect for justice and the rule of law, and adherence to the principles of the UN Charter, and maintaining close and beneficial cooperation with international and regional organizations (ASEAN, 2017). These mandates place them in a good position to help manage and resolve conflicts in the region. The ASEAN member states adopted the following fundamental principles from the 1976 Treaty of Amity and Cooperation in Southeast Asia: 1 Mutual respect for the independence, sovereignty, equality, territorial integrity, and national identity of all nations; 2 The right of every state to lead its national existence free from external interference, subversion or coercion; 3 Non-interference in the internal affairs of one another; 4 Settlement of differences or disputes in a peaceful manner; 5 Renunciation of the threat or use of force; and 6 Effective cooperation among themselves. (ASEAN, 2017) The Treaty provides guidelines for collaboration and resolution of conflict among its member states. ASEAN struggles for recognition as China and the US are not ready to accept ASEAN’s centrality or equality in future regional security, in order to protect their own identity and security interests (Haacke, 1998). Although ASEAN plays a significant role in serving national governments and upholding the norms of the association, it lacks an institutional structure mandate, and sufficient financial and human resources to support its administration and growing activities (Rattanasevee, 2014). 445

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Regional organizations such as the EU and ASEAN perform a vital role in addressing conflicts within their regions. Their knowledge of the area and its history, and social, cultural, economic, and political relationship to the different countries, give them an advantage and incentive in resolving conflicts and creating stability in the region. Other regional organizations include an African Union (AU) (2002) that promotes unity and solidarity, economic development, and international cooperation among African countries; the Union of South American Nations (UNASUR) (2008); the now defunct Caribbean Community (CARICOM) (1973); the Arab League (AL) (1945); and the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation (SAARC) (1985) (Encyclopaedia Britannica, n.d.-a). Regional organizations are particularly suited to play the role of third parties in resolving conflicts in the region as their image of impartiality, their high stakes in the resolution, their knowledge of intra-regional conflicts, and personal contacts with leaders of disputing parties are highly valued over state action (Taras & Ganguly, 2002). Such impartial third parties are important in peacebuilding as the mandates from an international organization are seen as less threatening to the country’s sovereignty than those from a state (Assefa, 1987, as cited in Yassine-Hamdan & Pearson, 2014, p. 24)

Conclusions This chapter has examined numerous methods and processes in the discipline of conflict resolution (PACS) that resolve and transform conflicts in our multifaceted world. First, it examined the extra-legal process of nonviolent action as a method to address structural violence in order to create social justice in communities suffering from gross injustices. Theories and practices of principled and pragmatic models of nonviolent action are discussed. Second, TRCs helped to discover and document systemic racism that resulted in violence, human rights violations, and genocides. The TRCs are processes that can help communities and nations move forward after violent legacies such as those of South Africa’s apartheid regime and Canada’s Indian Residential Schools. Finally, a number of international peacebuilding processes are examined for resolving complex conflicts involving multiple groups and States. Peacebuilding methods, diplomacy processes, UN activities, and regional organizations practices all contribute to international peace. These processes aim to resolve conflicts through systemic and structural change. As illustrated in this chapter, there are a myriad of conflict resolution and peacebuilding processes. Conflict resolution involves negotiation and third-party processes that work at the individual, group, and international arenas. These procedures also underlie activities that are vital to resolving conflicts at the broader structural levels such as legislation, TRCs, and peace agreements. Peacebuilding is complex and requires the collaboration and commitment of many parties, organizations, and governments. More research is needed to examine and evaluate how such cooperation and coordination of peacebuilding activities can be more effectively implemented.

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38 GLOBAL RESPONSES TO ARMED CONFLICT The menacing multi-dimensionality of peacebuilding under conditions of state fragility Fletcher D. Cox Introduction: Global armed conflict patterns and approaches On July 9, 2011, the Republic of South Sudan seceded from Sudan, becoming the world’s newest state. Hope for progress toward state formation and sustainable peace surrounded independence celebrations. Six years later, however, South Sudan now ranks as the world’s most fragile state (Messner, 2017). Even with a significant global peacebuilding effort, ethnic conflict and political violence, state-sponsored violence in disputed areas such as Abeyei and the Nuba Mountains, and humanitarian crises undermine the ability of South Sudan to build a functional, peaceful state. State fragility, not only in the case of South Sudan, but across the globe, is a major driver of armed conflict (Carment et al., 2009; Marshall & Cole, 2011; Brinkerhoff, 2014). Most armed conflicts in the world today are not new “conflict onsets,” but rather conflict recurrences related to prior wars. Analysis from the Peace Research Institute Oslo (PRIO) of Uppsala Conflict Data Program’s (UCPD) most recent global dataset, for example, presents a very clear finding that war begets war (PRIO, 2017). Statistically, 60 percent of armed conflicts recur, and post-conflict peace, on average, lasts only seven years (Gates et al., 2017). In stark contrast to Charles Tilly’s classic theory that war-making built and strengthened states in Western Europe, modern armed conflicts do the exact opposite (Ayoob, 1996; Leander, 2004; Taylor & Botea, 2008). They destroy state institutions and create conditions conducive to conflict recurrence and deeply protracted armed violence. State fragility generates powerful spillover effects for the global community. During the postCold war era, and into the 21st century, global demand has grown for international peacebuilding. International, regional, and non-governmental organizations (NGOs) are more deeply engaged than ever before in efforts to prevent, ameliorate, and contain armed violence (Geneva Declaration Secretariat, 2015). In 2017, the cases garnering the most global attention include Syria and Iraq, Yemen, Ukraine, South Sudan, DR Congo, Mali, and the Central African Republic along with the Greater Sahel, and Lake Chad Basin. These conflicts generate tremendous global costs due to the humanitarian impulse to alleviate human suffering, prevent genocide, and reduce gross violations of human rights when states fail to uphold their responsibility to protect (R2P) vulnerable

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civilian populations (Weiss, 2006; Evans, 2009; Bellamy, 2015). In 2017, conflict responses consume 80 percent of all humanitarian resources (World Bank, 2017). Global peacebuilding in the 21st century faces a major challenge. The global demand for conflict prevention is rising, yet the ability for wealthier donor states to coordinate, cooperate, and collaborate to share the global burden of governing conflict in fragile states is falling. Predominantly Western donor states have experienced declining public support for international burden sharing (Weiss, 2009). This occurs for a broad number of reasons, including negative reactions against refugee crises caused by conflict recurrence, and the relationship between protracted armed conflict and the increasing use of terrorist tactics. Social distance and unequal power relationships also can lead to “collective inter-group empathy failures” (Cikara et al., 2011; Hogeveen et al., 2014). In 2016–17, for example, the United States became more isolationist, and less cooperative with the United Nations (UN) and other international organizations (IOs) involved in global conflict prevention efforts (Rogin, 2016). Domestic politics affect resources available for peacebuilding, as well as the legitimacy of international peacebuilding organizations (Keohane & Milner, 1996). “Donor fatigue” can create negative feedback loops, undermining the legitimacy and capacity of IOs such as the UN, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), and the African Union (AU), among others. In the early 21st century, even with falling domestic political support for international institutions in many donor states, international peacebuilding actors and organizations continue to move forward with the broad aim of the consolidation of peace (Roeder & Rothchild, 2005). This goal is now most clearly articulated in the Global Goals for Sustainable Development (SDGs). SDG number 16 is to “promote just, peaceful and inclusive societies” (UN, 2017). This global agenda aims to overcome the aforementioned dilemmas of state fragility and armed conflict, and to mobilize international political support and financial resources for peace processes in fragile, conflict-affected countries. To illustrate key concepts and international norms driving global peacebuilding efforts, this chapter describes and analyzes major peacebuilding policy frameworks among major IOs including the OECD, the World Bank, the UN G7+, and the UNDP. In particular, the chapter explains how “statebuilding” and “peacebuilding” have become deeply interrelated norms within the “global peacebuilding architecture” (de Coning & Stamnes, 2016). The concept of statebuilding triggered major debates among scholars and policymakers. Critical theorists in international relations, in particular, offered harsh criticisms of the approach (Pugh, 2005; Mac Ginty, 2008; Richmond, 2010). The statebuilding as peacebuilding debate, therefore, provides a platform for explaining key arguments from critical theory and related schools of thought (Lemay-Hébert, 2013). Overall, the chapter argues that lessons learned from peacebuilding successes and failures drive innovation in peace and conflict research, and in peacebuilding praxis (Wang et al., 2005). As a result, global peacebuilding is highly multi-dimensional and complex, with a broad array of actors working to tailor peacebuilding approaches to very specific conflict contexts. In Anna Jarstad’s terms, understanding today’s “Varieties of Peace” involves understanding causes of “everyday peace,” as well as state–society relations, and domestic–international interactions (Jarstad et al., 2017). Even though international actors often encounter highly complex problems and dilemmas while working to build peace in conflict-affected countries (Paris & Sisk, 2009; Brinkerhoff, 2014), recent innovations in international peacebuilding now work to address known problems that can lead to failure. For example, the ongoing “turn to the local” (Mac Ginty & Richmond, 2013; Autesserre, 2014b), and efforts to study how timing and sequencing affect the durability of peace (Langer & Brown, 2016) create room for optimism for strengthening global peacebuilding norms and praxis. 450

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The global peacebuilding architecture: Actors and norms The global peacebuilding architecture includes a very broad array of actors, organizations, and international norms (Karns & Mingst, 2009). Unique regional conflicts and diverse local conflicts create variable operating conditions for peacebuilders that demand a broad set of tools. Peacebuilding agendas, therefore, are menacingly complex and multi-dimensional, drawing broadly on multiple arenas of praxis, including: negotiation and mediation, humanitarian aid and early recovery, human security, statebuilding, political economy and development, and democratization. Finnemore and Sikkink (1998) provide a strong theoretical framework for thinking about norms in international peacebuilding. From their perspective, it is important to track norm “life cycles.” Ideas about what it takes to sustain peace “emerge,” reach a “tipping point,” and then start to “cascade” across multiple states and actors (Finnemore & Sikkink, 1998). Some norms eventually become “institutionalized” at the global level, completing the full life cycle and becoming accepted “rules of the game” (Finnemore & Sikkink, 1998, pp. 895–9). The following section focuses on explaining how statebuilding and peacebuilding have become dominant norms in global peacebuilding policy and praxis (Haider & Strachan, 2014).

Global peacebuilding norms: Building state authority, capacity, and legitimacy In international peacebuilding praxis, a dominant norm is that building states is essential for fostering resilience toward armed conflict. Building state resilience is a process that may occur from the “top-down,” and the “bottom up” (Mac Ginty & Firchow, 2016). The following section highlights major agenda-setting reports to show how IOs think about statebuilding as peacebuildng. The reports offer related approaches that, in Finnemore and Sikkink’s (1998) terms, provide evidence of expanding “organizational platforms” for the spread of international norms related to global peacebuilding. First, the OECD (2008) statebuilding report titled From Fragility to Resilience argues that a state experiences fragility if there is an imbalance between society’s expectations and the state’s capacity to meet those expectations. Weak state–society relations yield very low capacity for the state to extract taxes. This undermines the ability of the state to provide basic welfare services for the population. A lack of state capacity undermines human security, and makes societies vulnerable to shocks that can increase vulnerability to armed conflict escalation (OECD, 2008). Second, the OECD (2010) report titled Unpacking Complexity focuses on legitimacy and state fragility. In states with low capacity to meet social expectations via the provision of human security or the protection of “human capabilities,” citizens tend not to perceive the state as a legitimate source of authority (Nussbaum, 2011). Legitimacy can be “residual” or “embedded” due to historical circumstances, shaped by state performance (“output legitimacy”), shaped by social participation in political processes (“input legitimacy”), and even shaped by social recognition of alignment with global norms (“international legitimacy”) (OECD, 2010, pp. 9–10). The most recent OECD report on conflict and fragility, Hitting the Target, But Missing the Point, shows the duration of the theme of state legitimacy. Fragility will continue, it claims, without “donor support for inclusive and legitimate politics” (OECD, 2017, p. 1). Security sector reform (SSR) and disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration (DDR) efforts within peace processes relate to the third dimension of statebuilding: authority. A state’s authority can be measured by its monopoly over the use of force, and its level of control of armed actors and vigilante groups (Krasner & Pascual, 2005). Capacity to collect taxes and the strength of the legal system also affect state authority. These factors affect the extent to which a state projects power and control over a certain territory (Anten et al., 2012). 451

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Low state capacity, a lack of political authority, and low levels of legitimacy combine to cultivate weak political systems that lead to high levels of armed conflict vulnerability (Putzel, 2005, p. 4). The concept of fragility hinges upon these three inter-related forces that shape the overall ability of the state to prevent, contain, and govern conflict without external support and intervention. Sustainable peace, therefore, requires restoring authority, capacity, and legitimacy in conflict-affected states. Fourth, the New Deal and the newly revised Stockholm Declaration draw attention to a fourth potential driver of global conflict vulnerability – external intervention itself (International Dialogue on Peacebuilding and Statebuilding, 2011). Large-scale interventions are a key feature of the modern international system. Even if undertaken with the best intentions, peacebuilders have the potential to create political instability, exacerbate conflict dynamics, and increase economic inequalities (Cox & Sisk, 2017). For example, the UN rushed elections in Angola, increasing rebel group mobilization and triggering all-out civil war (Richmond & Franks, 2009). Similarly, humanitarian actors, without paying attention to local intergroup conflict dynamics, exacerbated war in Sri Lanka (Roque, 2011; Goodhand et al., 2011). The longstanding “Do No Harm” agenda is a key norm that aims to prevent negative consequences (Anderson, 1999). The New Deal and the Stockholm Declaration represent the most recent thinking of international donors and the G7+ regarding how external interventions should be structured to make external intervention less likely to contribute to conflict recurrence. Building on the Paris Declaration on Aid Effectiveness (2005), the New Deal claims “country-led and countryowned transitions out of fragility,” and “national ownership” of development policy priorities are essential for sustainable peace (Easterly, 2008; OECD DCD-DAC, 2011). The principal logic of the New Deal and the Stockholm Declaration is that external actors are ineffective when they utilize their own structures, personnel, and leadership to accomplish short-term technical aid targets in lieu of committing to long-term processes of state formation and sustainable peace. There must be high levels of “focus” and “trust” within “global–local encounters” during peace processes (Zahar, 2012; Björkdahl & Höglund, 2013). These global agendas help explain why contemporary peacebuilding policy thinking has shifted away from the static term “fragile state” toward more dynamic, process-oriented terms such as “fragility” and “situations of fragility.” Conflict-affected countries work to build peace under ever-changing, context-specific dynamics related to important “micro-dynamics” of war and peace (Kalyvas, 2006, 2012). The broad array of highly context-specific factors has not hindered international peacebuilders from trying to “unpack” the complex causes of state fragility in order to develop more effective approaches (OECD, 2010).

Global debates: Criticisms of the peacebuilding architecture Multiple scholars are skeptical of the ability of external actors to adequately “unpack complexity.” Assessments of the primary interests that drive international actors to intervene in conflict-affected countries leave many analysts skeptical of the “liberal peacebuilding” enterprise (Mac Ginty 2008; Richmond, 2009; Höglund & Orjuela, 2012). The following section highlights how major schools of thought critique the statebuilding-as-peacebuilding agenda described above. First, Barnett and Zürcher (2008) (Rational Choice Approach) employ game theory to model interactions among external peacebuilders, state elites, and rural elites within the initial peacebuilding phase of a statebuilding operation. They claim: “peacebuilders and local elites pursue their collective interest in stability and symbolic peacebuilding, creating the appearance of change while leaving largely intact existing state-society relations” (Barnett & Zürcher, 2008, 452

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p. 9). In short, peacekeeping operations rarely create social change necessary for sustainable peace. They reinforce extant state–society relations, resulting in “co-optive peacebuilding.” External meddling, they claim, rarely changes domestic political structures that drive conflict. Autesserre’s (2009) recent ethnography of international intervention in DR Congo builds a similar argument. She suggests international peacebuilding programs, at the local level, tend to create suspicion between international and local actors, mistrust, and weak and inefficient practices and behaviors that can lead to systematic program failures (Autesserre, 2009, 2014b). This evidence suggests statebuilding and peacebuilding remain strong ideals, yet in practice few IOs are really good at it, and most often fail to do the hard work of fostering inclusivity under pressures from donors to show quick results and shifting domestic politics. Second, Chandler (2006) (Critical Theory) also is concerned with incentives, but at the international level. In his view, Western donor states have a large amount of power to effectively build peace in fragile states; however, they tend to deny the existence of such power. In the New Deal, for instance, donor power is ceded to “national ownership.” Donor states and IOs, in this arrangement, “appear less as external or coercive forces and more as facilitators, empowerers, and capacity-builders,” making it appear that, “non-Western states have ‘ownership’ of policies that are externally imposed and where it is the poorest and most excluded sections of non-Western societies that are the agents of policy” (Chandler, 2006, p. 178). In other words, powerful governments contribute to global peacebuilding efforts only to maintain their own state legitimacy in line with international norms, and, at the same time, to dodge accountability for their own failures. The pursuit of domestic–international “partnership” described in the New Deal and the Stockholm Declaration is not an altruistic collective pursuit to build peace more effectively, but rather a cloak for the self-interests of the most powerful states, allowing them to make the excuse “we tried, but they failed” (Chandler, 2006, p. 166). Third, Fearon and Laitin (2004) (Neo-Institutionalist Approach) view modern statebuilding operations as a form of international governance they term “neotrusteeship” (Fearon & Laitin, 2004). Across cases such as Kosovo, East Timor, and Afghanistan, they identify a global statebuilding regime with three dimensions: (1) foreign jurisdiction over both domestic policy autonomy and primary economic functions vis-à-vis multiple and multi-dimensional actors; (2) a large, rapidly expanding set of legal mandates for intervention; and (3) short-termism as an operational principle (Fearon & Laitin, 2004). Within this regime they identify four primary policy challenges: recruitment, coordination, accountability, and exit. For instance, in terms of accountability, IOs and NGOs are the “agents” of “principal” states. As agents, they are more accountable to their donors than to the societies they engage. This causes peacebuilders to spend more time, energy, and resources responding to external interests rather than to real needs of the state and the society. From their perspective, this results in highly ineffective engagement. Richmond (2009) (Critical Theory) questions the ideology behind the concept of state fragility. He argues contemporary statebuilding theories and techniques were constructed within Western, mostly North American, “problem solving circles,” and are “ideologically motivated [and] an expression of liberal culture rather than universal norms” (Richmond, 2009, p. 324). For example, in Richmond’s view, the Stockholm Declaration aims to foster “national ownership,” yet merely creates another “corridor of power” in which Western governments’ resources are offered “to an elaborate structuration of sometimes predatory elites – international and local – but not to the general populations” (Richmond, 2009, p. 170). State institutions created with external support claim to help those who suffer most from conflict, yet, in reality, have almost no impact on the everyday lives of citizens living within “peacebuilding experiments” (Autesserre, 2009, 2014a). 453

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Global peacebuilding norms: A case for cautious optimism On the one hand, international peacebuilding organizations try to make a case that building more resilient states on a global scale is both feasible and desirable. Critics, on the other hand, claim powerful states and IOs do not have just motives and adequate knowledge to implement real solutions to state fragility. Whose claim is more convincing? Critics draw attention to power, interests, and ethical dilemmas at work in modern peacebuilding operations. However, these approaches risk employing over-generalized assumptions about statebuilders’ interests and may fail to adequately account for the fact that state fragility remains an extremely complex, multi-dimensional concept. “Liberal peace” processes are much less static, cohesive, and hegemonic than critics claim (Mac Ginty & Firchow, 2016). The emerging global peacebuilding architecture now embraces complexity, multi-dimensionality, and context specificity (Paris, 2010). Barnett and Zürcher’s (2008) argument that situations of fragility are highly resistant to change due to the nature of incentive structures within peacebuilding processes is an important insight. Reforming the structures of aid delivery, fostering greater trust in peacebuilding partnerships, and utilizing local knowledge as the basis for peacebuilding programming may not always reshape domestic political incentive structures. Their logic, however, is too narrow. The idea that state fragility remains change-averse due to the “rational choices” of elites has limited applicability. Political economy scholarship provides a stronger framework for understanding why some conflict-affected countries, even with large amounts of external aid, remain fragile. Fragile states have very weak tax systems as well as very large informal economic sectors. These sectors are untaxed, which limits the accumulation of state resources required to increase social expenditures needed to increase state legitimacy. The lack of state capacity to extract resources and then redistribute them via welfare mechanisms such as cash transfers, higher levels of education, health care for the poor, creates high levels of income inequality and poverty. Laborers in the informal sector face very large collective action dilemmas, making them prone to “prebendalism,” which leads to fractionalized political systems (Joseph, 1983; Rudra, 2003). While low levels of capacity, legitimacy, and authority create distinctive syndromes that, indeed, are very hard to transform, elite behavior is only one part of a larger set of inter-related problems. Chandler’s (2006) main claim is that modern domestic–international aid relationships conceal the real power and interests of donor states. Is global peacebuilding marked by real instances of international cooperation and burden sharing, or deep fragmentation with hidden objectives? Chandler (2006) could be correct that some external actors are only interested in gaining the legitimacy that comes with pretending to care about fragile states and protecting their status when statebuilding fails. However, this type of behavior is not universal. The interests, motivations, and normative commitments of donor states vary considerably. For example, Hyden (2008) attempts to account for variation among states’ ideological approaches with a taxonomy of approaches to statebuilding. In his model, different states display different levels of commitment to economic development and to improving governance. “Substantivists” engage in fragile situations with a high commitment to development and a low commitment to governance, “Idealists” are committed to both development and governance goals, “Realists” have low levels of commitment to both development and governance, and “Formalists” have a high commitment to governance but a low commitment to development (Hyden, 2008). To illustrate, the donor “great powers” (e.g., Sweden, Norway) and many EU countries are idealistic and generally have few qualms about providing direct government support to foster 454

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national ownership, as prioritized in the New Deal and the Stockholm Declaration. In contrast, China, as an emerging donor, provides aid with very little interest in the quality of governance (Knack et al., 2011). Intentions and interests in statebuilding and peacebuilding vary considerably among powerful donor states. Fearon and Laitin’s (2004) key insight is that there are clear governance principles that impact how external actors operate in fragile contexts. They highlight sovereignty by multiple international actors, emerging legal mandates for intervention, and short-termism. However, there are other emerging norms that are just as important to consider. The New Deal and the Stockholm Declaration demonstrate that peacebuilding norms have advanced in the past decade. The “Do No Harm” agenda has become a key norm that statebuilders are expected to uphold. “Responsibility to Protect” (R2P) is also on its way to becoming a global norm. The OECD’s “Ten fragile states principles” also are becoming more relevant (Kurtenbach, 2007). There is substantial evidence for an emerging set of international principles, norms, and expectations, that are being revised and strengthened as international actors learn from failures and successes, gleaning “lessons-learned” along the way. These norms may help overcome some of the dilemmas Fearon and Laitin (2004) describe, especially short-termism. Richmond’s (2009, 2010) strongest claim is that the global statebuilding-as-peacebuilding project has become an illiberal project, with IOs imposing a Western form of order upon fragile states. This, however, may oversimplify the motivations, interests, and functions of actors involved in peacebuilding, and risk undervaluing the interesting ways contemporary scholars attempt to deal with local, informal institutions and so-called “hybrid governance” structures. There is a considerable literature emerging to work through the issues Richmond raises (Helmke & Levitsky, 2004; Bratton, 2007). Boege et al., for example, describe the nature of hybridity in fragile states as “diverse and competing authority structures, sets of rules, logics of order, and claims to power co-exist, overlap, interact, and intertwine, combining elements of introduced Western models of governance and elements stemming from local Indigenous traditions of governance and politics” (Boege et al., 2009, p. 10). External actors do not always have interests that undermine local interests. Instead, they often become embedded in the fragile context in ways that reshape any supposed external–internal division. Determining what amounts to “effective” peacebuilding is not merely a technical question. It depends to a large degree upon good governance on the part of both internal and external actors. There are certainly challenges, problems, and dilemmas in statebuilding efforts, yet they are not always as detrimental and as ethically bankrupt as Richmond claims (Paris, 2010).

Conclusion Ultimately, it is not a given that external actors, even with extensive resources or advanced theoretical knowledge, can actually “build peace,” especially in short timeframes, and under highly complex operating conditions. With such a high degree of complexity and multidimensionality, it is very difficult, and perhaps even impossible, to predict with any accuracy the actual long-term impact of any given peacebuilding process. Even though international peacebuilding efforts will not always lead to resilience, they also are not always to blame for “reinforcing weak statehood” or “neo-colonial imperialism,” as critical theorists suggest. Complexity does not merely operate to hide deceptive motives and leave room for powerful states to escape responsibility for failed interventions. The broad array of norms and practices associated with international peacebuilding remain key public goods. They are worthy goals for helping limit violence following civil conflict and for creating conditions for human security and development. Emerging norms for more 455

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effective intervention create room for optimism, especially the recent emphasis on the “local,” applications of Do No Harm principles, and the R2P. International efforts to improve state capacity, legitimacy, and authority, though increasingly under pressure due to declining support for international cooperation, still have important roles to play in creating conditions more conducive for better governance in fragile, conflict-affected countries.

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39 MAJOR PROCESSES AND STRUCTURES OF CONFLICT MANAGEMENT AND GLOBAL GOVERNANCE Paul F. Diehl, J. Michael Greig, and Andrew P. Owsiak When threats to international peace arose in the 19th and early 20th centuries, states were largely left to self-help mechanisms to ensure their own security. If threats were serious enough, collective action by the major powers (e.g., Concert of Europe) might occur, albeit rarely. After the two World Wars, however, there was an explosion in the number and types of international structures to deal with international crises and the situations that portended them. Central to these efforts was the United Nations (UN), whose Charter (Chapters VI and VII) provided for a series of mechanisms by which the international community could manage threats to international peace. Over time, regional organizations (ROs) such as the African Union (AU) and the Organization of American States, among others, carved out similar conflict management roles. With the end of the Cold War, threats to international peace changed, as did norms on state sovereignty. International civil conflicts (i.e., intra-state conflicts with an international component) replaced purely inter-state disputes as the most common forms of violence in the international system (Pettersson & Wallensteen, 2015). These necessitated new or adaptive conflict management responses, as cross-border violence, refugees, and human rights problems were intimately tied to such conflicts. Moreover, changes in global governance and international intervention norms altered the constraints under which conflict management occurs. Whereas previous conceptions of state sovereignty dictated that whatever a state did within its borders was its own prerogative, states now envisioned roles for the international community when civil conflict produced significant fatalities and human rights violations. This, too, led to some adaptations in conflict management approaches and a dramatic increase in their use. This chapter reviews many of the most prominent conflict management options employed by international actors, including mediation, sanctions, legal mechanisms, and peace operations. For each of these approaches, we examine which actors, agents, or structures are available and likely to take action, the roles and strategies involved, the factors affecting the decision to act, and a summary of the overall effectiveness of each option.

Mediation Mediation is a consent-based form of non-binding, third-party conflict management. By requiring consent among the conflicting parties, mediation shares similarities with bilateral 459

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negotiations; the disputants choose when to hold talks, how long to participate, and whether to reach agreement. Moreover, mediators take many forms – e.g., single states, IOs, ad hoc coalitions of states, non-governmental organizations (NGOs), or individuals – but the disputants also decide who can or will mediate. Thus, all mediators are not alike to disputants, a fact underscored by the various third parties who have established a niche for themselves as mediators to a wide variety of inter-state and intra-state conflicts (e.g., Norway, former US President Jimmy Carter, the Catholic Church, or Quakers). The mediation process itself also takes many forms, depending on the exact role played by the mediator. Touval and Zartman (1985) conceptualize these roles through a typology that distinguishes between communication-facilitation, procedural, and directive mediation. In communication-facilitation mediation, a third party seeks to increase the information flow between disputants. This role provides the mediator with the least control over the mediation process and substance, and produces the lowest success rate among the various mediator roles (Bercovitch & Regan, 2004). Nonetheless, because disputants have incentives to withhold information from one another, third parties who obtain and provide unbiased information can potentially be effective mediators. They also may play a “catalytic” function (Meyer, 1960), whereby their presence in talks alters the relationship between the disputants. In procedural mediation, the third party broadens its level of control over the talks by playing an important role in arranging the location, format, and structure of the talks, and taking active steps to sustain negotiations. A mediator might, for example, offer a face-saving mechanism for disputants by initiating talks, protecting disputants from the “bargainer’s paradox” – in which disputants avoid initiating talks for fear of appearing weak – and providing political cover for concessions that might be problematic to constituents (Carnevale & Choi, 2000). In directive mediation, the mediator’s role increases further still – to one in which mediators actively move disputants toward a settlement. They often, for example, act as solution innovators, identifying settlements that would otherwise go unrecognized. Moreover, these mediators frequently induce a settlement by offering rewards for settlement or threats of punishment that increase the costs of non-settlement (Beardsley et al., 2006). Each makes an otherwise unacceptable agreement more palatable (Crocker et al., 1999). Finally, mediators may act as guarantors of agreements reached at the bargaining table, reassuring disputants that all parties will abide by the terms of any settlement obtained. Despite the virtues of mediation, a majority of mediation efforts fail (Greig & Diehl, 2012), for numerous reasons. The acceptance of mediation, for example, ideally signifies disputants’ sincere desire for a settlement. Yet parties in conflict may join mediation for other reasons, such as enhancing their public image or buying time to rearm and improve their strategic position in the conflict (Richmond, 1998). Mediation failure may also result from a mediator’s shortcomings, as when the mediator adopts an unsuitable strategy, lacks sufficient experience or skill to navigate the difficulties inherent to a peace process, or cannot garner the disputants’ trust. Mediation efforts initiated by the conflict parties – a signal of motivation to settle – are more likely to succeed (Greig, 2001). Similarly, the timing of mediation in the life cycle of a conflict also affects mediation outcomes, with mediation more likely to succeed both early and late in a conflict (Greig, 2001). Early mediation benefits from intervention before the parties build up high levels of hostility toward one another, while the success of later mediation results from mounting conflict costs and pain over time. Zartman (2000) connects the latter to the development of a “mutual hurting stalemate” between the disputants – where a continuing conflict produces accumulating costs that eventually become unbearable to both sides and demonstrates that neither side can win on the battlefield. The combination of this mutual hurting stalemate and 460

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disputants’ perception of a “way out” – an alternative, diplomatic path for settlement – creates “ripeness” for mediation, that is, particularly opportune times for successful mediation to occur.

Sanctions Sanctions are a non-consent-based, coercive conflict management tool, in which an actor imposes economic costs on a target to encourage that target to change an existing policy or yield to a demand (Morgan & Schwebach, 1997). Thus, there are two actor groups: senders (i.e., the sanctioner) and receivers (i.e., the targets). Senders typically include individual states, ad hoc coalitions of states, and international organizations (IOs), while state governments are most often the receivers – although sanctions can also be aimed at sub-state actors, such as rebel groups. To induce a receiver to adjust policy or acquiesce to a demand, the sender most often relies on the pain-producing effect of sanctions – that is, raising costs. Nonetheless, sanctions can also force policy change by foreclosing options for the target (Hovi et al., 2011). A civil war arms embargo, for example, aims to force both governments and rebels to the negotiating table by undermining their ability to fight one another. Relative to other, more invasive conflict management approaches, the chief benefit of sanctions rests with their lower costs. Although providing a greater means of punishing another actor than mediation, sanctions carry neither the risks nor the costs of military intervention. This is not to say that sanctions come without sender costs. For a sender to impose sanctions on a target state, there must first be some trade connection between the two to disrupt. The subsequent disruption of this trade via sanctions therefore costs the sanctioning state something in foregone trade. The effectiveness of sanctions is a source of considerable debate. On one hand, when they impose unacceptable costs upon parties, sanctions bring the possibility of forcing policy change among otherwise recalcitrant actors. Hufbauer et al. (1990), for example, provide among the more positive empirical evaluations of the overall effectiveness of sanctions, arguing that they are effective about a quarter of the time, particularly when sanctions have limited goals and impose high costs upon the target but minimal costs on the sender. Morgan and Schwebach (1997) offer a similarly positive, but less sanguine, assessment of the effectiveness of sanctions, arguing that – although sanctions often do not work – they can have a limited impact when the costs imposed by sanctions on a target are substantially higher than the costs of the demanded policy change. Finally, Marinov (2005) finds that sanctions are a destabilizing force for leaders of targeted states, increasing these leaders’ likelihood of losing office by 28 percent for each year that sanctions remain in force. This not only highlights the political costs sanctions bring to target states, but also demonstrates one potential avenue of policy change: leadership turnover. Other scholars are skeptical about the ability of sanctions to force behavioral change. Pape (1997), for example, argues that the punishments that economic sanctions bring are rarely sufficient to overcome the resistance of targets to change their policies. Even when high costs can be imposed, targets often have the ability to shift the sanction costs onto others – for example, domestic political opponents and politically weak groups (Pape, 1997). Nevertheless, because actors threatened with sanctions may acquiesce to sender demands before sanctions are imposed, and therefore because sanctions only tend to be imposed on actors that are most likely to resist their effects, the actual effectiveness of sanctions may be higher than it initially appears (Drezner, 2003). Given the mixed support for the effectiveness of sanctions, why are sanctions so commonly employed? Beyond their lower cost than other conflict management approaches, sanctions bring with them important symbolic benefits for the actors that employ them. When political leaders face situations in which there are few viable policy options, sanctions can provide the appearance 461

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to constituents of “doing something” without the need to make tough policy decisions that carry high costs. This is often the reason why states choose to apply sanctions when responding to foreign humanitarian emergencies, what Weiss (1999, p. 500) refers to as “collective spinelessness.” At the same time, although sanctions bring costs for the sending side, they can also sometimes bring economic benefits as well. When sanctions close off access for foreign goods to a domestic market, they can serve as a protectionist tool benefitting import-competing sectors within the state imposing sanctions (Cox & Drury, 2006). One common benefit typically ascribed to sanctions is that they are a more humane strategy for imposing costs on another state than military force. In spite of this, sanctions can bring significant harm to the most vulnerable elements of a target state’s civilian populace (Weiss, 1999). When sanctions reduce civilian access to pharmaceuticals or food, for example, they can produce high levels of human suffering. Targets of sanctions often seek to exacerbate the effects of sanctions on civilians in order to shore up their own political support by scapegoating the sanction imposer for a broad cross-section of problems that may or may not be a consequence of the sanctions themselves.

Legal approaches On occasion, disputants relinquish full control over their dispute’s outcome to a third party. This typically occurs when disputants feel they have exhausted other diplomatic options and cannot successfully use force to achieve their goal. Continued bilateral negotiations therefore seem futile, and the assistance of mediators – even when accompanied by rewards or punishments – lack the ability to generate the concessions needed to reach a resolution. Instead, disputants seek a third party to inform itself about the issues under dispute, consider relevant principles and precedents, and issue a decision that resolves the dispute with a sense of finality. These characteristics define the legal approaches to conflict management, and there exist two broad variants: adjudication and arbitration. In adjudication, disputants refer their conflict to a standing or ad hoc court, which then follows set rules and procedures to resolve the conflict on the basis of existing law (e.g., treaties or common practice). This implies that states must establish a court with the competence to hear cases. Because a court’s establishment usually precedes the conflict cases it addresses, international courts are purposively designed by states – a feature that leads some to question their independent effect and causes each court’s operation to differ slightly, affecting everything from the composition and tenure of its judges to who can apply to the court for redress. The International Court of Justice (ICJ), for example, accepts applications only from UN (state) members, while the European Court of Human Rights (ECHR) permits individuals to petition the court as well. Jurisdictional questions offer one of the most significant complications to the operation of international courts, particularly in inter-state disputes. An international court must first determine whether states have given it permission to hear the case appearing before it. This can be time-consuming, as the respondent state often wants to have the case removed from the court. Indeed, a non-trivial number of ICJ cases (26.87 percent) are dismissed for lack of jurisdiction – a matter that requires approximately three years for the court to determine (Mitchell & Owsiak, 2017). Should the court decide that it possesses jurisdiction to hear the case, it next assesses the merits of the case, usually requesting written and oral arguments, as well as responses, from each party. This process can also be time consuming, as states research, construct, and respond to legal arguments. As an illustration, from application to judgment on the merits, ICJ cases take 462

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an average of 3.92 years (Mitchell & Owsiak, 2017). Many disputants, however, do not simply wait for the ICJ to act; rather, they continue negotiating while the ICJ hears their case and frequently resolve the case successfully themselves. In 18.66 percent of ICJ cases, the participants request their case be removed from the court’s docket, almost always because they reached an agreement while the court was considering their case (Mitchell & Owsiak, 2017). More than likely, the credible threat of an unpopular court ruling incentivizes out-of-court concessions. Arbitration constitutes a second legal approach, in which disputants select a mutually acceptable third party to review and decide their claims, and agree to abide by its decision. Arbitration is similar to adjudication in that the third party’s decision is binding on the disputants. Nevertheless, it offers disputants much more control over the settlement process than adjudication. Besides permitting the disputants to select any third party, arbitration also requires a compromise, in which the disputants outline the issues under dispute, the process by which arbitration should proceed, and what principles the third party should apply when making its decision (Bercovitch & Jackson, 2009). In effect, disputants constrain the autonomy of the arbiter while giving up control over the final decision reached. Given that states cede substantial control when agreeing to legal approaches, why would they use them? The most common answer involves “political cover” (Allee & Huth, 2006). Legal approaches place responsibility for a dispute’s settlement terms entirely with a third party. Leaders can therefore be absolved of the final concessions demanded to reach a settlement – and are therefore shielded from constituents’ potential backlash. In addition, certain issues lend themselves to particular conflict management approaches. The desire for control over a dispute’s outcome ultimately intersects with other states’ interests, encouraging states to institutionalize conflict management by issue-area to reduce transaction costs (Owsiak & Mitchell, 2017). Two perennial debates persist about legal approaches to conflict management. First, do they resolve disputes as they were intended to do? Bercovitch and Jackson (2009, p. 56), for example, occupy the pessimistic end of the spectrum, concluding that the ICJ “has only a moderate record in conflict resolution and has been involved in none of the most serious conflicts of the twentieth century.” The same data, however, point Mitchell and Owsiak (2017) in an optimistic direction. Although the ICJ hears few cases (134 total cases from 1946–2015), those heard often concern highly contentious issues – namely, disagreements over sovereign rights to territory, river, or maritime space. Moreover, major states participate in ICJ cases as respondents, even though they themselves do not often submit applications to the court. This suggests that even the most powerful states see the importance of legal approaches. Another way to assess international courts’ effectiveness is to look beyond the cases these courts hear. This can be difficult, for it is not always clear how one identifies cases that did not go to court. One might study policy changes that, if not enacted, would result in similar court cases. Helfer and Voeten (2014), for example, find that rulings by the ECHR prompt policy changes to minority rights in non-respondent states, thereby demonstrating that the court alters behavior in out-of-court actors. Through an investigation of territorial claims, Gent and Shannon (2010) find that legal approaches increase the likelihood that territorial claims end, while the alternatives do not. The implicit assumption underlying their analysis is that any territorial claim can produce a legal case, which allows them to demonstrate the value of legal approaches relative to alternatives. The second debate concerns compliance: do actors abide by the legal rulings they receive? The answer is affirmative, although there are disagreements over the reasons why. Legal approaches render it almost certain that a resolution will be reached – a low bar, as the legal actor can produce this resolution without the disputants. Compliance with arbitral and adjudicative resolutions, however, is over two to three times greater than with agreements resulting from bilateral negotiations 463

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(Mitchell & Hensel, 2007). Simmons (2002) proposes that these high compliance rates result from the reputational costs associated with non-compliance. Others argue that compliance rates might result from more subtle factors, such as legal actors’ ability to help disputants select from among multiple possible solutions to a conflict (Ginsburg & McAdams, 2004) or connections to other disputes (Prorok & Huth, 2015). A final set of scholars contend that compliance occurs because states only give legal actors cases whose rulings they intend to respect, rather than because legal actors constrain state behavior (Posner & Yoo, 2005).

Peace operations Although international actors can engage in coercive military operations, these are rare in practice. Political disagreements at the UN, for example, hamper its ability to authorize such operations. ROs likewise generally lack the political will or military capacity to impose peace. In this gap, the UN and other IOs developed an alternative approach: peacekeeping. Over time, this expanded into peacebuilding. These two types of operations are not always distinct; frequently, operations combine elements of both types – what might generically be labeled “peace operations.” By some estimates, there have been almost 200 such operations since the end of World War II (Diehl & Balas, 2014).

Traditional peacekeeping In its traditional form, peacekeeping involves the stationing of a small number of lightly armed troops or observers to separate combatants – generally following a ceasefire, but before an agreement that resolves the underlying disputed issues. These operations are based on the socalled “holy trinity”: host state consent, impartiality, and minimum use of force (Bellamy et al., 2010). Primary objectives include separating disputants, monitoring ceasefires, and reporting on violations – as a way to build space for a comprehensive agreement to be found (Diehl & Druckman, 2018). The separation of combatants, for example, helps detect ceasefire violations to discourage cheating on the agreements, offers early warning of a military attack, and decreases any tactical advantages that stem from a surprise attack. Moreover, the international reputation costs and possible sanctions that result from violating a ceasefire, combined with the decreased likelihood of quick success, are expected to deter violence, creating space for productive negotiations (Fortna, 2008). The UN deployed the first traditional peacekeeping operation in 1948 after the first Arab– Israeli war. Over the next 40 years, the UN remained the predominant, traditional peacekeeping agent. ROs had yet to be formed or were relatively weak in their delegated powers or material capabilities. This, and the number of operations, changed dramatically starting in the late 1980s and into the 21st century. The UN still carries out a significant proportion of missions (over 40 percent), but now, ROs organize a plurality of operations (about 48 percent). Most involved in the latter are the European Union, the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), and the Organization of African Unity (OAU)/AU respectively. Multinational operations, those carried out by ad hoc collections of states, constitute the remaining operations (just over 10 percent). Peace operations deploy not to all conflicts, but rather to a small subset. Organizations, for example, are more likely to authorize and deploy operations in high-severity and protracted conflicts (Gilligan & Stedman, 2003), suggesting that the international community uses peace operations to address the biggest threats to international peace and security. Nevertheless, this also means that peace operations may struggle to succeed, as they are deployed to contexts 464

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with the least prospects for success. In contrast, operations are less likely when the target state is allied with or is itself a major power (Mullenbach, 2005), although several peace operations in the Middle East are exceptions. Finally, no evidence indicates that missions are more likely in secessionist conflicts, non-democracies, former colonies of UN Security Council members, or states with high primary commodity exports (Gilligan & Stedman, 2003), as conventional wisdom might suggest. The length of peace operations varies tremendously. The mean operation length is 5.69 years – ranging from a few months to more than 65 years. Post-Cold War peacekeeping has tended to involve multiple and consecutive operations sent to the same conflict – each of which is of limited duration – rather than a single operation that stays in place for an extended time. The multiple operations sent to Haiti and the former Yugoslavia exhibit this characteristic. There is clear evidence that peacekeeping works. It prevents the renewal of violent conflict, reducing the renewal of inter-state and intra-state war by 30–95 percent (Fortna, 2008) and over 70 percent respectively (Mason et al., 2011). Moreover, it can limit the spread of conflict. Without peacekeepers, a substantial risk exists that the conflict will spread to a neighbouring, rival state (Beardsley & Gleditsch, 2015). In addition, peacekeeping can reduce civilian casualties. Although peacekeepers are not necessarily deployed to sites associated with civilian casualties (Reeder et al., 2015), there is clear evidence that fewer civilian casualties result when especially the size of the peacekeeping force grows (Hultman et al., 2013).

Peacebuilding Since the end of the Cold War, peace operations have increasingly incorporated mission objectives beyond the supervision of ceasefires. These have been subsumed under the label of “peacebuilding” and possess several essential elements. First and foremost, the purpose of peacebuilding is (minimally) to prevent the recurrence of conflict. Rather than simply halt violence, however, some peacebuilding activities are predicated on a long-term conflict management strategy that addresses the root causes of conflict – for example, by creating peaceful, as opposed to violent, conflict management mechanisms. Facilitating and monitoring elections, repatriating refugees, providing humanitarian assistance, and strengthening government institutions – including assistance with local security and law enforcement – constitute activities consistent with this goal, although they might also serve other goals, such as the promotion of liberal values (Diehl & Druckman, 2018). Other activities not formally connected with the operation, such as economic development and building civil society institutions, may also be employed. Second, most conceptions of peacebuilding envision its activities to occur following some type of peace settlement between warring parties, rather than in the post-ceasefire/pre-settlement phase typical of traditional peacekeeping’s deployment. Finally, peacebuilding is employed in a civil context, following an intra-state war, significant ethnic conflict, or even within a failed state. One major difference between traditional peacekeeping and peacebuilding is the number and variety of actors involved in carrying out missions. In the former, soldiers exclusively or primarily carry out the duty of monitoring ceasefires. In contrast, other actors supplement or supplant soldiers in many peacebuilding activities (e.g., other agencies of the UN or ROs). For example, the UN Department of Humanitarian Affairs coordinates humanitarian assistance. The World Bank provides loans to promote economic development, whereas the International Monetary Fund assists post-conflict states with short-term financial adjustments. Moreover, NGOs are critically important to peacebuilding efforts. Many have been in place in the country prior to and during the civil conflict there. In the conflict’s aftermath, they work with and independently of other actors. 465

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The factors promoting success in peacebuilding tasks beyond limiting violence can be difficult to discern. Peacebuilding is a long-term process, and it is challenging to identify correlates of success for a process that is still incomplete in most cases. Nonetheless, a few general principles emerge. First, divided societies pose a difficult context for peacebuilding, and success in such cases likely requires opportunity for reconciliation and stability (Doyle & Sambanis, 2006). Second, there must exist some local capacity, defined in terms of local economic health and resources (Doyle & Sambanis, 2006). Post-conflict recovery is greater under conditions of economic health. Yet one can assume that the conflict produced some economic dislocation and problems. At the extreme, this might involve the destruction of infrastructure or industry, the disruption of agriculture, or the dislocation of large segments of the population. This local capacity must be restored or supplemented. Third, peacekeepers must develop working relationships with the local population. A cultural cleavage – for example, military/civilian – may exist between the cultures and norms of the peacekeepers (who themselves vary) and the local behaviors (Autesserre, 2014). Success requires building partnerships across this cleavage. Finally, objectives must not be rushed. Some, for example, are critical of the way in which peacebuilding strategies have been implemented, specifically attempts to build democracy and stability too quickly and without adequate resources (e.g., holding democratic elections too soon; Paris, 2004).

Conflict management trajectories Each of the conflict management approaches discussed above can be used in isolation, but they most often occur in combination with one another. Within inter-state disputes that become militarized, for example, nearly 85 percent of all conflict management attempts occur as part of a package – coordinated or not – of multiple conflict management attempts (Owsiak, 2014). This suggests that managing an inter-state conflict requires a constellation of tools that can be used in sequence or alongside one another to help disputants reach a resolution. The key, then, is to know which tools work well together and the conditions under which they do so. We can theorize about the relationship between conflict management approaches in three ways. First, repeated usage of the same conflict management approach may be valuable, and these actions may be interdependent. Disputants, for example, might need to become comfortable with a mediator and the process before progress can be made on disputed issues (Moore, 1996). Indeed, states that experience mediation are more likely to try it again (Greig & Diehl, 2006). Thus, conflict management might best be conceptualized as a “softening” process, whereby disputants familiarize themselves over time with the process and prepare themselves for difficult concessions (Greig & Diehl, 2006). In this process, earlier mediations fail before later ones succeed. Second, pairs of different approaches might be valuable for broader conflict management efforts, although some combinations will make more theoretical sense than others. Two approaches theoretically work together when each contributes something unique and they together produce a sum greater than the individual parts. Proponents of peace operations, for example, originally envisioned it acting as an umbrella – sustaining a non-violent environment – under which conflict management would both occur and succeed. This suggests that peace operations should be used in combination with other conflict management strategies (e.g., mediation or negotiation) that move the disputants toward a resolution, while peacekeepers freeze the military status quo. Empirical research, however, finds the opposite: that a peacekeeping mission renders mediation less likely to occur, and makes mediation or negotiation less likely to succeed, than if the mission had been absent (Greig & Diehl, 2005). Finally, within each conflict, various third parties use a mix of approaches over time – sometimes in sequence, sometimes simultaneously – to promote peaceful inter-state relations within a 466

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given conflict. These third parties are aware of one another’s activities, even if every detail of their efforts is not fully known (e.g., some mediation conversations occur in private). A third party accounts for the approaches previously used by other third parties in the conflict when deciding what approach to employ themselves, with more recent efforts yielding more useful information, as a conflict evolves over time. Successive conflict management efforts therefore connect to one another, much like links in a chain, and the chain itself constitutes a path of conflict management or conflict management trajectory (Owsiak, 2014). These trajectories have common “shapes” to them, making it possible to discern patterns of conflict management. The shapes result from organizing the full menu of conflict management approaches along a cost continuum, ranging from low-cost (e.g., appeals for a ceasefire and fact-finding missions) through medium-cost (e.g., mediation and adjudication) to high-cost (e.g., peace operations) approaches. Each third party selects an approach from this continuum, and when those cost-organized decisions are then ordered chronologically for a given conflict, a “wave-like” picture emerges, with the exact shape of the wave dependent on the number and type of approaches employed. Owsiak (2014) develops and uses this approach to identify eight trajectory shapes in militarized interstate disputes during the period 1946–2001. Owsiak (2014) briefly suggests a few possible models to account for different trajectory shapes. A learning model, for example, proposes that a third party employs an approach to manage a conflict, and other third parties observe. If this approach succeeds – however defined – then the next third party tries that same approach again, following a “softening” logic (Greig & Diehl, 2006). If the initial approach fails, the next third party instead switches to a different approach. The trajectory shape then results from the success and failure of proximately employed approaches. In contrast, a cost model argues that third parties want peace for the lowest possible price. They therefore start with a low-cost approach and employ successively more costly approaches as less costly ones fail. Although theoretically plausible, empirical work still needs to fully explore such ideas.

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40 ROBUST PEACEKEEPING The most appropriate operational paradigm to address contemporary UN peacekeeping and civilian protection challenges Kofi Nsia-Pepra The protection of human rights is a fundamental purpose of the United Nations (UN) in its avowed commitment, “to save future generations from the scourge of war” (Preamble, UN Charter). Despite its seemingly universal acceptance, human rights protection has been dogged with controversy that limited the organization’s ability to enforce it. Intense philosophical debates on the concept of human rights and Cold War superpower rivalry precipitated formidable obstacles to human rights. Peacekeeping is one of the most laudable conflict management mechanisms the UN designed to protect human rights during the Cold War when the paralysis of the Security Council hindered its ability to respond to global security threats (Nsia-Pepra, 2014, p. 8). However, UN peacekeeping missions did not achieve desirable successes. Post-Cold War minimal superpower antagonism revived optimism about the UN’s responses to atrocities, especially against civilians in civil wars. It reinvigorated the Security Council’s activism in peacekeeping missions leading to the deployment of numerous missions. However, the UN’s record in stemming human rights violations has been riddled with failure. The much-touted optimism has been crippled by egregious conscious-shocking crimes against civilians even in the presence of UN peacekeeping forces. Traumatic UN failures in Rwanda and Bosnia necessitated the reassessment of the fundamental principles of traditional UN peacekeeping and the suggestion of a need for robust peacekeeping (Brahimi, 2000), a strong and forceful peacekeeping force, as a better mechanism than a traditional one to protect civilians from attacks in violent civil wars (Nsia-Pepra, 2011, p. 264). The concept of robust peacekeeping that involves the use of force to deter and stop conf lict spoilers from civilian killings is not well received by all (Nsia-Pepra, 2014, p. 89). Robust peacekeeping has triggered debates regarding its viability in protecting civilians. The chapter evaluates the effectiveness of the emergent robust doctrine, its inherent dilemmas and challenges, and makes policy recommendations to enhance its efficacy in civilian protection. It borrows from Nsia-Pepra’s (2014) pioneering game theoretical formidable barrier model of robust peacekeeping success (p. 74) to argue that robust peacekeeping is the most appropriate UN peacekeeping operational paradigm to address the challenge of civilian protection.

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UN peacekeeping and civilian protection Peacekeeping evolved during the Suez crisis to prevent a war between the major powers (Diehl, 1988, p. 485). Early architects of peacekeeping included Lester Pearson, Canada’s UN ambassador, and Under Secretary General, Ralph Bunche. Peacekeeping is not provided in the UN Charter without agreed definition. UN Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjold called it “Chapter Six and a Half” mission since it goes beyond traditional Chapter VI pacific measures, but stops short of Chapter VII collective security actions (UN, 2017). Cold War period missions were termed “traditional” peacekeeping, involving the deployment of lightly armed forces limited to interdiction between conflict parties that did not allow for assertive actions even in the face of human rights violations. Traditional peacekeeping is non-coercive and therefore lacks both an offensive mission and the capacity for it (Nsia-Pepra, 2014, p. 27). The missions are guided by the principles of consent, impartiality, and use of force for self-defense. The purpose of impartiality is to demonstrate that the UN is an honest broker of peace. Peacekeepers do not advance the interest of any of the parties in order to win their trust to facilitate conflict resolution. Partial peacekeepers risk non-cooperation and attacks against them and the civilian populace (Nsia-Pepra, 2014, p. 29). UN peacekeeping missions are deployed with the consent of the host country or conflict parties (Boutros-Ghali, 1992). Consent underscores the UN’s reverence for the states’ sovereignty and elicits their cooperation. Traditional peacekeeping forces use force only in self-defense because they are not designed to alter the prevailing distribution of power, neither should they appear to threaten the disputants or the local population. The use of force entails certain opportunity costs, including reduced ability to make the peace (Nsia-Pepra, 2014, p. 30) Civilian protection was not the explicit objective of UN missions during the Cold War. It was intrinsically achieved through peacekeepers’ strategic interposition as a buffer zone between conflict parties (Wills, 2009, p. 9). Peacekeepers’ fixation on impartiality and the fear of reprisals against them undermined their desire to protect civilians. During a UN Operation in Congo in the 1960s, UN Headquarters refused Ghanaian peacekeepers’ request to take President Patrice Lumumba into protective custody, with the excuse that it would breach the principle of impartiality; this ultimately resulted in his murder by his opponents (UN, 2017). This intrinsic stratagem of civilian protection has failed in the post-Cold War era because the UN applies an inappropriate operational paradigm meant for inter-state wars that is unsuitable for postCold war intra-state wars involving rogue conflict parties who attack civilians for strategic reasons. Following horrendous UN experiences in Rwanda and Bosnia, Secretary-General Kofi Annan recommended the doctrine of robust peacekeeping. The Brahimi Report (2000) recommended a more assertive and deterrent UN mission force to protect civilians (Nsia-Pepra, 2014, p. 28).

Robust peacekeeping: Historical developments and theoretical conception The UN’s non-interventionist traditional peacekeeping operational doctrine, that lacks requisite “muscle” and was originally designed for inter-state conflicts, seems an inappropriate doctrine to protect civilians in post-Cold war violent civil wars. The need to protect civilians precipitated a paradigm shift to robust peacekeeping, that is a mission with deterrence capacity to stave off civilian killings, which emerged as the appropriate mechanism to enable UN peacekeepers to protect civilians under imminent threat. It has the capacity to deter spoilers who threaten the mission’s mandates and civilians using all necessary means, including force, to defend it and fulfill its mandate (Heng, 2003).

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The normative doctrinal shift to robust mandates to protect civilians was fostered by certain critical conceptual developments centering on the use of force to protect civilians (Kjeksrud, 2009, p. 12). Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali’s (1992) Agenda for Peace, captured the right of the UN to intervene in a state under Chapter VII of its Charter to protect citizens’ human rights, acknowledging that the UN should use force when all peaceful means had failed and that the credibility of the UN was at stake if it did not (paragraphs 42–3). Secretary-General Kofi Annan (2000) urged member states to soberly reflect on the UN’s “inadequacy of symbolic deterrence in the face of a systematic campaign of violence and role of force in the pursuit of peace” (paragraph 505). He greatly impacted the debate on UN peacekeeping principles and guidelines on civilian protection by redefining the principle of impartiality, stating “impartiality does not and must not mean neutrality in the face of evil” (Annan, 1999b, p. 19). He acknowledged “the need for timely intervention by the international community when death and suffering are being inflicted on large numbers of people, and when the state in charge is nominally unable or unwilling to stop it” (Annan, 1999a, p. 7). Consequently, Annan promoted an interventionist operational paradigm. He recommends the abandonment of outdated neutral peacekeeping and adoption of a more muscular peace operation to avoid another Rwanda. Annan (2000) also acknowledged that the world could not be bystanders when heinous atrocities are committed against defenseless civilians (UNGA, 2000). The Brahimi Report (2000) recommended more assertive and deterrent mission force to confront the challenges of human rights violations in contemporary volatile conflict theaters (paragraphs 48–50, 55, 66d). The 2001 international norm of “Responsibility to Protect” (R2P) reinforced the concept of robust peacekeeping. The 2004 UN Report of the High-level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change: A More Secure World advised the SC to be more proactive in the future, “taking decisive action earlier” in the face of threat (UNGA, 2004, paragraph, 203). Similarly, the World Summit Outcome document recommended that peacekeepers should have “adequate capacity to counter hostilities and fulfill effectively their mandates” (UNGA, 2005, paragraph 2). The 2007 Department of Peacekeeping Operations (DPKO) and the Department of Field Support’s (DFS) Guidelines and Principles for Peacekeeping Operations or the Capstone Doctrine urges peace operations to use force proactively to defend their mandate and protect civilians under threat (Nsia-Pepra, 2014). Since the first landmark UNAMSIL resolution 1265 (1999), most UN missions have been authorized under Chapter VII and provided with Robust Rules of Engagement (ROE) to “take the necessary action to ensure the security and freedom of movement of its personnel and to afford protection to civilians under imminent threat of violence” (UNSCR, 289, 2000, cited in Nsia-Pepra, 2014, p. 49)

Robust peacekeeping and civilian protection: The formidable barrier model of robust peacekeeping mission success The constituent elements of successful robust peacekeeping are well-equipped and trained large troop contingents, heavy weapons, major powers participation, and robust rules of engagement (Nsia-Pepra, 2014, pp. 50–3). Thus in robust peacekeeping, the principles governing “traditional peacekeeping” have been significantly altered. The UN General Assembly (2004) acknowledges that robust forces have proven to be the best deterrent against those who mean harm in mission areas. Nsia-Pepra (2014) finds that robust peacekeeping reduces civilian killings (p. 90), demonstrating the effectiveness of robust peacekeeping through his formidable barrier model of UN robust peacekeeping mission success (pp. 70–75). The model posits that the success of UN peacekeeping missions in staving off deliberate civilian killings is a function of its deterrent capacity. It presumes deliberate civilian killings as 472

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a rational process consisting of careful deliberate calculations by rational actors. The political calculations make it possible for combatants to perceive civilian killings and peace as alternative policies and to trade off between them. The choice of continued fighting depends on the estimation of costs and benefits to the leaders or combat group. Combatants will not continue to fight and kill civilians if they perceive the net expected benefits to be less than that of peaceful negotiations. A group’s probability of success or loss, perception of benefits and costs of killing civilians, is a function of its relative capabilities compared to that of the intervener, in this case robust UN mission forces. To kill civilians, therefore, the spoilers must consider the relative strength of the mission force. A group will continue to fight and kill civilians when it believes it is stronger than the mission force. Peacekeeping missions’ success in staving off deliberate civilian killings, therefore, is a direct function of its ability to constrain combatants’ violent behavior, resulting in a cost-benefit calculation by the combatants that lead to the choice of peace rather than continued fighting and civilian killings. In this sense, the mission’s capacity to raise the cost of continued fighting by combatants is dependent on its relative capabilities compared with those of the combatants. A stronger mission force in terms of large force size, stronger fire power reflected in its robust rules of engagement and heavy weapon use, and stronger combative and repulsive capacities involving major powers’ militaries may alter the calculations of spoilers to choose peace rather than continued fighting and killing of civilians. In the face of overwhelming robust UN mission forces’ preponderance of power, to avoid incurring heavy losses, rational combatants will opt for peaceful negotiations rather than a confrontation with the mission force. Robust peacekeeping, by designation, has the ability to manipulate the relative costs of continued fighting and civilian killings and the benefits of peace to have more preferable effects. Robust peacekeeping missions, characterized by large force strength, use of heavy weapons, major power participation, and the rules of engagement to use “necessary means” to protect civilians as well as for self-defense, and with a high cost-tolerance level can provide the necessary barrier or impediment to intentional civilian killings by combatants and spoilers. The underlying strategy of robust peacekeeping is to alter the parties’ calculations so as to make it too costly to attack civilians and more beneficial to choose peace. The basic presumption of the use of deterrent force to restore stability is that hostilities harden bargaining positions and attitudes rather than encourage concessions by parties who suffer costs. The probability of accepting a diplomatic resolution to a conflict by parties afflicted by human and other related costs in an ongoing hostile conflict is conditioned on the cessation of hostilities and attacks on conflict parties. A deterrent force can create stability encouraging political dialogue to resolve the conflict.

Dilemma and challenges of robust peacekeeping The paradigmatic transformation to robust peacekeeping has triggered operational dilemmas that threaten its potency to protect civilians because robust peacekeeping contradicts the constitutive principles of traditional peacekeeping doctrine namely consent, impartiality, and limited use of force for self-defense. Nsia-Pepra (2014) finds the lack of doctrinal clarity of robust peacekeeping and disagreements on use of force, lack of resources, ambiguous mandates, lack of a unified training doctrine and absence of centralized pre-deployment training of forces, heavy UN bureaucratic and hierarchical structures and military command system, major power non-participation, mission forces crimes, and lack of global leadership as some challenges to robust peacekeeping. The UN lacks a functional operational definition for robust peacekeeping. The Capstone Doctrine, developed to alleviate this gap, doesn’t seek to “override the national military doctrines of individual member states” (Kjeksrud, 2009, p. 29). A major challenge is the 473

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disagreement between protectionists such as China that strongly uphold the principles of sovereignty, non-intervention, and limited use of force and interventionists such as the US that uphold the principles of R2P and humanitarian intervention. The deployment of a hybrid mission with a watered-down robust mandate, due to China’s obstruction, manifests this disagreement. A more serious dilemma is the absence of conceptual clarity and articulation on the use of force by mission forces to protect civilians. The phrase “all necessary means” in relation to the use of force in robust mandates is vague and ambiguous, leaving the decision to use force to the mission’s leaders and field commanders of the contributing contingents. Mandates couched in unclear language are susceptible to multiple interpretations by command and contingents and are difficult to translate into operational orders. As a result, participating contingents are affected by the “phone home” syndrome in which participating contingents seek domestic legal guidance in respect to the use of force. This leads to differential interpretation and applicability of force that may lead to operational incoherence adversely affecting civilian protection. Inconsistency in the rules of engagement can both impede streamlining command and control, and also increasingly complicate efforts to form unified operational doctrine (Gowan & Tortolani, 2009). A further challenge facing interventionists is the absence of conceptual clarity on the appropriate level of force to be used by mission forces in this “gray area” between “peacekeeping” and “enforcement.” The Capstone Doctrine struggles to articulate clear guidelines on the use of force. The dilemma is how much minimum force is enough to deter spoilers, while at the same avoiding tipping into the sphere of enforcement? The danger is that too little force could lead to mission failure to protect civilians as in Rwanda while too much could be deemed excessive and elicit violent reprisals from spoilers as in the case of the UN Operation in Somalia (UNOSOM). The dilemma is finding the right balance in applying force that avoids popular resistance and wins the trust of the people. The use of force also in robust peacekeeping seems to compromise a mission’s impartiality. It downgrades its credibility and trustworthiness (Donald, 2003, p. 415) and may result in attack on mission forces and civilians by afflicted parties, as occurred to the UN Protection Force (UNPROFOR) in the former Yugoslavia. The UN suffers from mandate–resource discrepancy and it acknowledges the problem of resources, particularly funding, personnel, logistics, and equipment, since members have been reluctant in honoring their financial obligations. The UN lacks a deployable pool of personnel ready for an immediate deployment. As a result, there is a growing disparity between the capacity of the UN and the demands of peace and security operations that require resources. The UN still struggles to scramble together enough logistics, funding, and materiel capacities to compose a credible mission in executing its protective mandates in current operational theatres. The UN peacekeeping operations have insufficient high-quality personnel, inadequate equipment, substandard communications systems, equipment, and other capacities that most well developed militaries possess (Holt et al., 2009, p. 187). The UN lacks a common training doctrine for mission personnel and this undermines mission coherence, coordination, and command and control. The Capstone Doctrine does not “override the national military doctrines of individual members states” (Wills, 2009, p. 70), depriving the UN of the unique opportunity for a universal functional military training doctrine to guide the preparation of troops for deployment. Compared to NATO, the UNDPKO and the DFS suffer from severe lack of military planning capacity (Durch, 2006, p. 582) that ultimately dampens the political will of Western nations to commit troops to UN peacekeeping operations. Closely linked to the lack of a unified training doctrine is the absence of a centralized predeployment training of forces about mission tasks, such as the use of force to protect civilians. In the absence of clear guidance from the SC, senior mission leaders and contingent 474

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commanders make decisions about mission strategy and tactics to protect civilians. However, each member state has different training doctrine. The results are discrepancies in the use of force by different contingents in the same operational theater that substantially reduces the effectiveness of UN missions in protecting civilians. The complex and divisive politics within the SC, fueled by neorealist national interest, poses a hindrance to the deployment of robust missions. SC members’ decisions to either deploy a robust mission or not are driven by their national interests and stake in the conflict. Altruism and the severity of atrocities are not the primary determinants to deploy a robust mission; rather, national interests are. The US and China thwarted the UN deployment of robust missions during the Rwandese genocide and Darfur killings respectively. The UN is also afflicted with heavy bureaucratic and hierarchical malaise of top-down structure with complex procedures, where every action requires approval from the top. This sometimes demobilizes the operational capacity of the field troops due to delays on operational decisions by DPKO. The UN Organization Mission in the Democratic Republic of Congo (MONUC) suffered this limitation and its forces were compelled to adopt a reactive posture rather than a proactive attitude (Pottier, 2002, p. 39). The UN “failure to protect Rwandan citizens” is attributed to the general disorganization and bureaucratic chaos of its composition (Dallaire, 2004). UN peace missions lack an integrated chain of command and common procedures. Even though different national contingents are deployed under one Force Commander (FC), the participatory preconditions allow each contingent to report to its contingent commander, who is first accountable to his own government, before obeying the FC. These limitations constrain missions’ operational capabilities in protecting civilians. While Western militaries recommend the UN command and control should more closely resemble the more centralized operational command structures of the EU or NATO, other troop contributors are comfortable with the more decentralized model of the UN (Guéhenno, 2009, p. 10). The proliferation of different command structures and “caveats” that risk gaps in strategic and tactical decisions adversely impact the SC’s and field commanders’ authority and effective conduct of robust missions. Crimes committed by UN peacekeepers affect successful achievement of their protective mandates. For example, the involvement of the MONUC force in sex, bribery, corruption, and illicit trading scandals has undermined its credibility and reputation as a legitimate peace broker. As a result, some conflict parties are not cooperating with it. A closely related problem is that troop-contributing states have disciplinary jurisdictions over their own offending troops rather than the UN. UN officials can at best send miscreant peacekeepers home, where they seldom face disciplinary measures. However, the UN, rather than the contributing state, shoulders the blame for the troop’s failure to be appropriately punished. UN partnership with discredited host states attacking civilians affects its credibility and undermines popular trust. This undermines their ability to successfully implement their protective mandates. In the DRC, MONUCs joint operations with the Congolese Armed forces (FARDC), discredited for massive human rights abuses, against other conflict parties undermined its impartiality and legitimacy as an honest broker. As a result, the aggrieved parties attacked the UN mission and the civilians they were protecting. A major obstacle to a successful robust operation is the major powers’ disinterest in contributing troops to peacekeeping missions, especially in conflicts of less strategic interest to them. The major powers’ availability for UN peacekeeping missions is contingent on their national interests, their calculus about risk to troops and sustainability of domestic support. Many states with advanced military capabilities contribute fewer troops to UN forces, or are deeply selective in deploying troops in conflicts. Today fewer than 2 percent of UN troops deployed in African missions come from Europe or North America (Jones, 2001, p. 23). The US and Britain are reluctant 475

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to contribute troops to UN missions because of their involvement in other commitments deemed pertinent to their national security interests. They have focused on the priority of the fight against global terrorism, while others such as Russia, and Japan contribute few personnel for doctrinal reasons. The UN today relies on a comparative handful of 15 states, particularly South Asian and African states, that regularly contribute about 75 percent of UN forces. The key to credible, implementable “robust” peacekeeping mandates hinges on effective global leadership. The overwhelming military and economic capabilities and global reach of the US cast it as the only power capable of global action and leadership. As a result, most states still look to the US to provide the necessary leadership for solving or managing international problems. Unfortunately, the US has fallen short of this expectation and remains rather indifferent to the UN, a proclivity evident in the Clinton administration’s Presidential Decision Directive 25 (PDD 25). George W Bush’s administration’s preference for unilateral action and ambivalence about multilateralism and distrust of the UN also explains why the US failed to lead the UN. President Trump’s America-first mantra and disinterest in the UN further explains US global leadership failure. Daniel Patrick Moyinhan, former US ambassador to the UN, articulated the US distrust of the UN when he described the UN as a “dangerous place,” and succeeding officials and legislators have preserved the perception (Puchala et al., 2007, p. 91). Its ambivalence about UN multilateralism renders it a reluctant leader (Puchala et al., 2007, p. 91). Instead the US is conceptualized as an obstruction in the UN, and it sees the organization as an instrument of its foreign policy (Puchala et al., 2007, p. 94). The US is actively involved in UN activities when it serves its immediate, neorealist strategic interests. The US thwarted UN deployment of a robust mission in Rwanda during the genocide but intervened robustly, disregarding the SC, in Kosovo, a conflict that pales in comparison to the Rwandan genocide. Despite these drawbacks, robust peacekeeping missions are increasingly demanded and mandated because, unlike the non-interventionist traditional peacekeeping, it constitutes a formidable barrier to human rights violations in civil wars.

The way forward: Policy recommendations The aforementioned challenges need to be addressed for robust missions to successfully execute their protective mandates. The UN needs to develop a unified coherent doctrinal definition for robust peacekeeping and the use of force to mitigate adverse effects of national caveats on civilian protection. The new unified operational doctrine should establish principles and definitions, and the structure under which robust missions can use force to protect civilians under threat. This will facilitate unitary interpretation of ROEs consistent with missions’ protective mandates. This should be done in consultation with Troop Contributing Countries (TCC) and other stakeholders such as non-governmental actors that operate in the same conflict. It is recommended that whenever the SC is ineffective in making protective decisions to halt mass atrocities, the General Assembly’s (GA) protective obligation should be ignited through the 1950 GA Uniting for Peace Resolution 377 as it did in the 1950s on the SC’s impasse over Korea (Connaughton, 2001, p. 19). The resolution guarantees the GA the power to deploy military force when this is “necessary to maintain or restore international peace and security,” when the SC “because of lack of unanimity fails to exercise its primary responsibility for the maintenance of international peace and security” (para. 347). The International Court of Justice subsequently advised that the GA had “secondary” responsibility for peace and security, and if the use of veto prevented the SC from acting, the GA could organize peacekeeping operations at the request or with the consent of the states.

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UN members must honor their responsibilities in providing resources, particularly funding, personnel, logistics, and equipment for mission. The Brahimi Report (2000) acknowledges that troops need to be resourced before they can protect civilians under threat (paras. 48–64). The DPKO is in consultation with member states to store key mission equipment with long procurement and delivery time at the UN Logistics Base (UNLB) in Brindisi, Italy. The UN must also make strategic reforms to ensure transparency and eliminate corruption and waste in the organization to encourage members to honor their financial obligations. A robust mission in a dangerous and complex conflict environment would require a clear mandate, and coherent and streamlined UN training doctrine similar to NATO’s to guide the mission. The UN training doctrine should override national training doctrines. There should also be a centralized predeployment training of forces about mission tasks, such as the use of force to protect civilians from imminent threat of physical violence. These will help troops reach a consensus on the use of force to protect civilians. NATO’s success in maintaining consensus during the Kosovo crisis is cited as exemplifying a collegial approach to successful conflict resolution involving different TCCs (Wills, 2009, p. 76). Predeployment training based on a unified training doctrine will boost troops’ skills in the field, build the necessary competencies and esprit de corps, and enhance unanimity of purpose, enabling troops to successfully execute their protective mandates. Training would adequately prepare and provide troops with the requisite mental attitude much needed for robust mission in turbulent war theaters such as Darfur. This training will prepare troops psychologically to reduce the impact of incurring casualties and seeing some horrifying atrocities during operations. The UN must also consult with TCCs to address their deployment concerns or hiccups and harmoniously formulate a rapid deployment mechanism with their input for speedier early deployment. It is high time the UN’s hierarchical command and control structures became flexible, because of the complexity of robust peacekeeping. This will enable FCs on the ground to take certain tactical initiatives to confront day-to-day threats to civilians. In the fluid, volatile, and turbulent conflict environment of robust missions, commanders need to make on-the-spot or daily tactical decisions expedient to confront threats to civilians from conflict spoilers. Waiting on the UNHQ, located in New York and absent from operational theaters, for authorization before making tactical decisions results in delays or in inappropriate tactical decisions that could hamper robust missions’ capacity to protect civilians under threat. If Dallaire (2004) had been granted the flexibility as the commander on the ground to seize the weapons and planners of the Rwanda massacre, genocide would have been averted. Confronting the lack of an integrated chain of command and common procedures, must require the UNSC to consult with TCCs and harmonize their caveats to develop a consensus so that all troop contributors, notwithstanding different military traditions, are comfortable with UN command and control arrangements (Guéhenno, 2009, p. 10). The UNHQ should have control of robust missions in order to secure the authority of the FC and ensure that contingents respect the UN and his command. However, this should not deny FCs the flexibility to make tactical decisions to deal with threats to mission and civilians. The UN has to take the necessary corrective measures to “win the hearts and minds” of the international community, particularly the local populations, as an honest broker of peace. UN efforts to investigate peacekeepers’ crimes have been woefully inadequate due to certain inherent contradictions. The oversight system should be complemented with a thorough examination of the issue of the disciplinary jurisdiction of a peacekeeper. The revision must unequivocally articulate the TCC’s obligations regarding the conduct,

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discipline, jurisdiction, investigations, and accountability of crimes committed by mission forces. The UN’s enforcement of its zero tolerance policy should not simply be limited to deportation of miscreant troops who go unpunished by the home governments, but should require the UN to have disciplinary jurisdiction over offenders to punish them to redeem the waning reputation of the organization. Mission forces should be trained to be more sensitive and attuned to the local and national cultures, manners, languages, and plights before deployment (Wills, 2009, p. 28). A UN mission must also weigh the ramifications of partnering with conflict parties in the execution of mandates. In the DRC, the joint operation with the corrupt and brutish FARDC was a tactical error. The complexity of robust peacekeeping requires the participation of major powers that have the requisite military capabilities, particularly advanced weapons training, intelligence, mobility, and targeted firepower, to mitigate the risks of robust peacekeeping and effectively execute protective mandates (Guéhenno, 2009, p. 9). The support of the SC demonstrates the global community’s commitment to robust missions and enhances the missions’ legitimacy and credibility. This action signals to potential violators that the world would not stand by when heinous crimes were committed against innocent civilians and those human rights violations carry real costs. The support of the SC also boosts the world’s confidence in the UNs capacity to protect civilians. The major powers must know that in the post-September 11 era, the global community faces common threats from weak states. Obviously, it would be naïve on the part of major powers to ignore the relevance of national interests in foreign policy discourse. However, it would be a strategic blunder to consider some conflicts as “nonexistential threats” or “unnecessary wars,” because they constitute the fundamental sources of “existential threats” to the major powers. Fukuyama (2004) has argued, “Since the end of the Cold War, weak and failed states have arguably become the most single important problem for international order” (p. 92) and Susan Rice (2001) called Africa a “veritable incubator for the foot soldiers of terrorism.” Leadership matters. The key to credible, implementable “robust” peacekeeping mandates hinges on effective global leadership. The overwhelming military and economic capabilities and global reach of the US cast it as the only power capable of global action and leadership. The US has made appreciable contributions to the UN, such as building and leading a coalition to prosecute the first Gulf war. The US is also the largest financier of UN operations but it has not assumed fully global leadership because of its national interests that sometimes contradict global collective interests. Time Magazine acknowledges the need for more thoughtful and less parochial leadership (Puchala et al., 2007, p. 94). There is an increasing expectation of America to establish a proper functional stable international peaceful order as the only superpower in a unipolar world, because it benefits from a stable world order. The core reality is that the US can offer effective global leadership if it does not prioritize realpolitik national interests over global collective interests when dealing with issues such as civilian protection. The truth is that in the contemporary globalized world, it is difficult for the US to distinguish its threats from those of other states because all states face mounting common threats directly or indirectly. US objective leadership will lead to a new world order intolerant of blatant human rights violations. In the current world order, the US cannot dominate other powers such as China and Russia. So the key strategy to effective US leadership is to collaborate with other powers to solve global problems, recognize that it does not have enough power to compel others to follow its lead, and the US must consider compromises in its formulation of common policies to ensure the cooperation and participation of other states. US power and global

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leadership can be fruitfully exercised to build a coalition of nations to collectively deal with common global threats (Gelb, 2009, p. 388). The US must establish a new, dynamic, and more productive UN system, void of acrimonies, and realpolitik divisions and stalemates (Nsia-Pepra, 2014, p. 186).

References Annan, K. (1999a). Two concepts of sovereignty. The Economist. London. www.economist.com/ node/324795 Annan, K. (1999b). Walking the international tightrope. New York Times, Jan. 19. www.nytimes. com/1999/01/19/opinion/walking-the-international-tightrope.html?mcubz=0 Annan, K. (2000). We the Peoples: The Role of the United Nations in the 21st Century, Millennium UNGA Report of the Secretary-General. New York: UN. www.un.org/en/events/pastevents/we_the_ peoples.shtml Boutros-Ghali, B. (1992). An Agenda for Peace. New York: United Nations Department of Public Information. www.un-documents.net/a47-277.htm Brahimi, L. (2000). The Report of the Panel on UN Peacekeeping. New York: UN Security Council. www. un.org/en/events/pastevents/brahimi_report.shtml Connaughton, R. (2001). Military Intervention and Peacekeeping: The Reality. London: Ashgate Publishing. Dallaire, R. (2004). Shake Hands with the Devil: The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda. Boston, MA: Da Capo Press. Diehl, P. F. (1988). Peacekeeping operations and the quest for peace. Political Science Quarterly, 103(2), 485–507. Donald, D. (2003). Neutral is not impartial: The confusing legacy of traditional peace operations thinking. Armed Forces and Society, 29(3), 415–48. Durch, W. J. (2006). Twenty-First Century Peace Operations. Washington, DC: United Institute of Peace Press. Fukuyama, F. (2004). State-Building: Governance and World Order in the 21st Century. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Gelb, L. H. (2009). The world still needs a leader. Current History, 108(721), 387–9. Gowan, R. & Tortolani, B. (2009). Robust peacekeeping and its limitation. In J. Guéhenno (Ed.), Robust Peacekeeping: The Politics of Force (pp. 49–55). New York: New York University Press. Guéhenno, J. (2009). Robust peacekeeping: Building political consensus and strengthening command and control. In J. Guéhenno (Ed.), Robust Peacekeeping: The Politics of Force (pp. 7–13). New York: New York University Press. Heng, Y. O. (2003). Statement at the special political and decolonization committee, on comprehensive review of the whole question of peacekeeping operations in all their aspects. Oct. 20. New York: Singapore Mission to the United Nations. www.mfa.gov.sg/content/mfa/overseasmission/newyork/ archive/fourth_committee/2003/200310/press_200310_02.html Holt, V., Taylor, G., & Kelly, M. (2009). Protecting Civilians in the Context of UN Peacekeeping Operations: Successes, Setbacks and Remaining Challenges. New York: United Nations Press. Jones, B. D. (2001). The Best Laid Plans . . .Peace-Making in Rwanda and the Implication of Failure. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Kjeksrud, S. (2009). Matching Robust Ambitions with Robust Action in Operations: Towards a Conceptual Overstretch? Oslo: Norwegian Defense Research Establishment. www.ffi.no/no/Rapporter/09-01016.pdf Lacey M. (2005). UN forces using tougher tactics to secure peace. New York Times, May 23. Nsia-Pepra, K. (2011). Robust peacekeeping? Panacea for human rights violations. Peace and Conflict Studies, 18(2), 263–90. Nsia-Pepra, K. (2014). Robust Peacekeeping: Civilian Protection in Violent Civil Wars. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Pottier, J. (2002). Re-imagining Rwanda: Conflict, Survival and Disinformation in the Late Twentieth Century. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Puchala, D., Laatikanen, V. K., & Coate, R. A. (2007), United Nations Politics, International Organization in a Divided World, in Search of Leadership. Upper Saddle River, NY: Pearson Prentice Hall.

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41 NEW ERA IN GLOBAL SECURITY When peace means global complex operations Yvan Yenda Ilunga

While the end of the Cold War reduced considerably the likelihood of violent inter-state conflicts and framed the path for America’s hegemony, the rise of asymmetric and sporadic terrorist attacks during the late 1990s unknowingly announced the changing landscape of global security. This change regarded the nature of new threats, as well as the rise of new major global players other than nation-states. At first, this change did not affect the supremacy of the United States (US) as dominant nation-state in the post-Cold War era, nor did it destabilize America’s hegemony viewed and assessed through the lens of international relations. However, when viewed with the lens of globalism, with new regional and global dynamics characterized by the emergence of new actors operating outside the scope of inter-state relations, America’s hegemony seemed to progressively decrease and disappear. The international space occupied by the US was shifting to become less predictable. The unexpected shift in security and actors’ global engagement becomes even more pronounced and evident following the 9/11 terrorist attacks (Cronin, 2003). In fact, not only did the attacks challenge US rhetoric regarding its abilities and capabilities to fully and successfully protect its national territory and citizens, the response to the attacks intensified the transformation of the global space and gave global visibility to threats that otherwise would have remained local. The US response labelled as War on Terror began an era of multi-dimensional and sectoral conflicts in which nation-states and supranational entities were no longer the dominants actor, nor were they unique targets. As a consequence of this dramatic shift, the current global security landscape continues to evolve, redefining the nature of security threats and the quest for appropriate responses. It is important to recognize that this shift and its global security dynamics were not foreseen during the establishment of the global security architecture post-World War II, articulated around the ideal of collective security built on a United Nations (UN) framework. In 1945 and the years that followed, nation-states were not only seen as guarantors of security but were also perceived as potential destabilizers of peace and security. On the other hand, the role of non-state actors was neglected and their threats to global security were viewed as almost nonexistent (Reinalda, 2016). While global security engagement post-9/11 was primarily framed as fighting Al-Qaeda and its affiliated regional terrorist groups, this approach has fast evolved. Today’s global instabilities show that the fight for peace is a battle against a new beast stretched out in the form of terrorisms,

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ethnic conflicts, natural resources-based conflicts, religious and ideological conflicts, economic and regional conflicts, poverty, corruption, intra- and inter-state conflicts, just to mention a few. Despite actors’ differences in motivation and ideological driving forces, the outcomes of their impacts in communities and regions tend to be very similar: institutional destabilization, humanitarian crises, social disruption, and high levels of violence and local insecurity. For instance, it was reported through the Council of Foreign Relations’ global conflict tracker that in March 2018, the Middle East and North Africa had close to 3 million displaced people and 17.8 million people living without adequate food due to conflicts and state fragilities (Council on Foreign Relations, 2018). As a consequence, a flow of illegal migrations continues through North Africa and the Middle East to Europe. This region has become a global hotspot for human trafficking and terrorist recruitment. Additionally, the recurrent bombing and fighting throughout the region has made it a battlefield with an ongoing high level of casualties among armed forces and civilians. These multi-dimensional consequences of conflicts and instabilities justify multiple calls for strong and effective responses to conflicts and insecurity. Responses that would restore human dignity, mitigate suffering, and promote peace, stability, and security.

Security challenge Apart from the view that insecurity and conflict are caused by an increasing number of actors and competing interests among states and non-states actors, the challenge to global security and peace recovery is also anchored in the rigid nature of the global security architecture that is held captive by the functioning of nation-states and their views on security threats and strategies to address them. The transition from a state-centric security approach to a multi-stakeholder one remains a huge challenge for the international community. The changing nature of threats to global security and the multiple ramifications of conflicts around the world continuously challenge traditional security providers (states) who struggle with questions such as how to coordinate a multistakeholders’ approach to global security without jeopardizing their own national security interests? Additionally, concerns such as strengthening civil–military interactions in the field, uniformity of language (operational concepts), definition of objectives, perceptions of threats, definition of mode of engagement, and coordination between actors are all viewed as pressing operational challenges to global security. It has become evident that these challenges are even more concerning than the manifestations of conflicts, or the multiplication and/or the behavior of states or non-state actors. In fact, failing to properly plan or coordinate security responses during active or latent conflicts has been highly detrimental to stability and peace (Kettl, 2003). It is important to highlight that failure to restore peace due to lack of coordination does not reflect the logistical and tactical capabilities of individual actors involved in conflicts. In fact, some are well equipped with sophisticated strategies and abilities to plan, conduct, and even win battles and operate unilaterally. However, the challenge is for their abilities to be effective when assessed from the lens of global collective security. Hence, despite extraordinary potential, there is an extraordinary inability of the international community, as well as other regional and/or national entities to innovate and strategically align their operations to adapt to the new global security landscape. The struggle to change is partly due to the rigid nature of national security infrastructures and systems. In fact, this struggle seems to be a reflection of the ideologic battle between the traditionalists who see the state-centric approach to security as the pillar of international order and stability (Buzan, 1997), and the globalists who promote flexibility and adaptation as a result of globalization (Meyer, 1993). No matter the differences in ideology, there is no doubt that the catastrophic state of fragilities around the world demonstrates and reveals the need for nontraditional security strategies to win the battle against global insecurity. 482

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The state-centric approach to security and the traditional view of the law of armed conflicts (as operational legal framework) should be revisited and adapted to meet new and emerging threats and forms of conflict. This of course will not be achieved without resistance from a majority of security traditionalists who have established their main theories of security and the conduct of wars around the existence and capabilities of nation-states. While it would be misleading to argue that nation-states have no place in the current configuration of global security, it is however important to emphasize that current global security challenges cannot be exclusively explained by traditionalists’ views, nor can they be addressed by them alone.

Law of armed conflicts: Essence and its current applicability To further develop strategies for complex operations in the pursuit of global security, one should pause for a moment and revisit the very fundamental laws that have informed and continue to inform the practice of wars and the behaviors of actors during armed conflicts; known as the law of armed conflicts or humanitarian laws. In fact, international engagements either in their military or humanitarian forms are not new phenomena in the existence of nation-states. They have existed over centuries and have varied over time based on either international political arrangements such as trade or on security threats that have challenged the stability of nations. In its evolution, the current modern practice of the law of armed conflicts has its turning point in 1863 with the creation of the International Committee for Relief to the Wounded that later became known as the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), a non-governmental organization. Inspired by Henri Dunant, the ICRC intended to serve as a relief organization that attended to wounded soldiers, while pushing states to adopt a legal instrument protecting the war wounded and those caring for them. Two years after the publication of A Memory of Solferino and a year after the creation of the ICRC, on August 22, 1864, 12 states signed the treaty known as the Convention for the Amelioration of the Condition of the Wounded in Armies in the Field (Lopičić-Jančić, 2011). This treaty enforced the obligation on states to spare and protect wounded soldiers and the people and equipment involved in their care. The benefit of the treaty was that it gave institutional legitimacy to the Red Cross (a non-state actor) while giving birth to the construct of normative and legalistic approaches to the practice of humanitarian actions – now known as humanitarian law or law of armed conflicts. In its early stages, under the auspices of international law, the question regarding the regulation of humanitarian actions evolved under a single context of war. It ended up being conceptualized and limited to the view of a law of war. The law of war or the law of armed conflict became, therefore, the first step taken toward the current understanding and regulation of humanitarian intervention and assistance. While this law continued to be the foundation of military conduct during hostilities, it unfortunately failed to address the aspects of protection of civilians and their overall wellbeing during conflicts and the period thereafter. It also failed to provide guidelines for irregular and asymmetric wars. Even with such a shortfall, the existence of humanitarian law has helped to prevent serious crimes against humanity and massive human rights violations by state actors. In the 21st century, the relevancy of laws governing armed combat seems to be questioned due to their inability to fully inform the right security practice to be followed during asymmetric, multi-dimensional, and multi-sectoral global conflicts. There is no doubt that the changing nature of conflicts and the ongoing multiplication of local, transnational, and international actors necessitates that the regulatory framework of war and armed conflict be revisited and adapted to current situations. 483

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Informed by global experiences In 1648, the signing of the Treaty of Westphalia opened the world to an era of organized international order with recognition of national sovereignties and the political responsibility of states. This period of state sovereignty led to the inception of international norms, which later evolved into international public laws that enforced respect in diplomatic practices and the logic of infrangibility of nations’ territorial sovereignty. While in theory the treaty helped to engender the precondition of a sustainable international order; in practice it created the preconditions for power politics or balance of power. In fact, far before the law of war and during the period leading to both World Wars, humanitarian law was still very theoretical. One of the reasons was that there was no pressing reason to focus on it or to revisit its guiding principles since the world had yet to know major conflicts that would have brought humanitarian law’s strength and weaknesses to light. The disastrous consequences of the use of the atomic bomb in Japan that led to the death of 90,000 to 146,000 people in Hiroshima and 39,000 to 80,000 people in Nagasaki could be considered as one of the turning points in modern political history (Heraclides & Dialla, 2017) that finally directed global attention toward the protection of civilians during armed conflicts that culminated in the signing of the Fourth Geneva Convention. This normative and legalistic approach to the protection of civilians and armed conflicts constitutes one of the critical steps in the current practice and theory of humanitarian work, which up to this very time was totally owned by states and designed to exist during armed conflicts, with nation-states as the main and exclusive participants. While the experiences of both World Wars and other major conflicts informed the establishment of global institutions such as the UN, and directed innovation in the creation of norms that inform the conduct of nations during period of conflicts and peace, these norms should be regularly revisited and adapted to reflect the security and political contexts of an era. This would mean the current practice of humanitarian law should be reflective of the nature and dynamics of conflicts and wars present in the 21st century. This would include terrorism, ethnic conflicts, ideological wars, proxy-wars, and cyber warfare among others. These new conflict experiences would be critical in the understanding of global dynamics and help develop appropriate peaceful responses.

Global security complex: Institutional reform and the regionalization of security The current global security architecture, the post-World War II Security Complex, was established around the existence of the UN. For over 70 years the UN’s main guiding principle, central to its architecture, remains the pursuit of collective security (Thakur, 2016). In the post-1945 world the main security assumption was that collective security would be reached through effective participation of the UN’s member states who would be the flag bearers for peace and promotors of security. All these assumptions and views were of course anchored in the hypothesis that UN members will not conduct inter-state wars; nor would they promote destabilizing activities detrimental to other countries’ national security. While in theory this was a great political move enhancing and strengthening international order in the pursuit of its global security, it was unfortunately naïve to believe that the dominant nation-states would relinquish their ability to define in/security for the collectivity. In practice, the notion of real and/or perceived threats was owned and defined by the winners of World War II, as well as the permanent members of the UN Security Council. Even when they were discussed 484

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or voted on at the UN Security Council or General Assembly, the winning arguments were those independently adopted by powerful countries within their individual national security paradigms. Hence, while the operational platform of global security decisions was “the global space,” the machineries of their design and intended goals are directed toward serving the national and local interests of dominant actors. This paradox prompts the idea of revising the global security architecture (UN framework) to serve all nations, including those whose regional and/or local issues are not always seen as important or a priority for global security nor are their security threats considered as global.

Institutional reform Facing the complexity of wars, conflicts, and competing national interests, governments and international security actors struggle to identify and reach consensus about the form to be adopted for projecting a new global security complex. While there is a multiplication of regional security complexes (Buzan, 2003), at the global stage the permanent discussion of the matter remains the reform of the UN Security Council. For close to two decades, regions such as Africa and Latin America have advocated for representation in the UN Security Council, suggesting that countries such as South Africa, Nigeria, and Brazil be included as permanent members (Weiss, 2003). The need for reform seems to be more urgent now since many countries began to openly criticize the current functioning of the Security Council due to its extreme polarization on issues such as Syria, the broader Middle East, Libya, and Yemen and due to a US unilateral approach to global order during the Trump administration. With the multipolarity of the current global system, the quest for a regional balance of power approach within the Security Council is one of the dominant arguments used by those advocating for reform. The envisaged advantage of this strategic reform could be the promotion of less represented security views and the development of context-specific military and/or anti-terrorist strategies that have not been included in the mainstream security and humanitarian operational framework. Additionally, bringing these regional voices into the discussion of global security would inform the promotion of local views of security threats and challenges in the design of responses, as well as the development of theories informing the discipline of peace and conflict studies (PACS). While the global system has yet to be transformed, and is unable to engage on the path of adaptation, it is important to keep remembering that current global security architecture remains highly, if not exclusively, influenced and framed by the views of national security superpowers and their affiliated security/humanitarian organizations. Apart from regional representation and new balance of power relationships, global change through Security Council reform could mean that new perspectives on current security threats are brought to light by new actors (permanent members) and addressed with a clear local and regional focus through a multi-stakeholders’ approach to security.

Regionalization of security One of the obstacles to the practice of global security is the question of how to successfully address regional or global threats in the space dominated by national interest and security priorities. Global security becomes even harder to imagine and envision in an era characterized by the rise of populist leaders with extreme nationalistic views of security. These nationalistic views, purely framed for political propaganda, undermine the stability and effectiveness of the 485

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global security architecture, which is framed and operated around the dynamics and values of globalization. Extreme nationalist behavior also undermines systematic security efforts that could be promoted and reached through regional or transnational organizations. As the role of governments and their affiliated entities is becoming dominant again on the international stage, one of the very important questions to tackle in the reflection of security and peace is how to reach security and build peace without ignoring or undermining the place, role, or influence of the national security complex, while at the same time acknowledging the complexity of issues and actors outside government spaces. Being aware of differences in defense strategies and the strategic priorities of nations, the effectiveness of military and humanitarian operations could be guaranteed when nations would feel comfortable transferring their capabilities and expertise to regional and multinational, specialized security architectures or humanitarian entities such as the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), UN Department of Peacekeeping Operations (UNDPKO), African Union, UN High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR), and ICRC, etc. Regionalization of security approaches could bring about the development of strategies closer to communities in need and ultimately help identify and eliminate transnational threats or local ones with potential for regional spillover effects. Additionally, this could be an efficient way to mobilize resources and channel them to operations that would eliminate armed groups or transnational unarmed negative networks. Within the context of terrorism and humanitarian crises, it is evident that the local manifestation of violence and societal destabilization carries huge regional impacts that one country alone cannot address. Cross-border impacts should also lead to the use of regional responses as an inclusive strategic intervention. A synergy between states and non-states actors develops. Even within the instances of increased nationalistic behavior around the globe, and the utopic idealistic view that one nation could hegemonically dictate the course of the global system, regionalizing security strategies and their operational practices remains one of the few positive steps to global security and peace.

A complex approach to a complex issue: Reflection on the humanitarian crisis Global instabilities and violent conflicts that continuously engender and perpetuate humanitarian crises land the weight of their destabilizing impacts on civilian communities more than they do on political and economic structures. While political and economic structures can be fixed and quickly restored during recovery processes, the human impacts of humanitarian crises are not easy to fix since they affect the psychological, physical, emotional, and generational wellbeing of victims. In countries such as the Democratic Republic of Congo and South Sudan these impacts on the population are added to their negative consequences on institutions, social structures, and governance systems. The impacts of crises have only complicated the humanitarian equation, which is more than ever in need of new and complex strategic and operational responses. In this situation, success and effectiveness would depend on how best policies and interventions toward long-term sustainability are designed, negotiated, and operationalized. Historically, humanitarian strategies and policies in post-conflict regions were mainly defined and supported by outside organizations and foreign governments, while host countries and communities had almost no say regarding the situation and had very limited participatory power (Larrain, 2013). This modus operandi, unfortunately, did not serve successfully the broader agenda of relief and security recovery. It continued to perpetuate a state of victim vulnerability by strengthening the bridge of dependency toward foreign providers. It also promotes imperialist and paternalistic practices, which are already very pronounced within the 486

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political spaces of developing countries. While efforts to remediate the situation by revisiting the practice of humanitarian action have progressively been made, critics remain since decisions that inform the future of humanitarian actions continue to depend to a great extent on the politics of foreign powers, international organizations, or the constraints and limits imposed by donors (Drury et al., 2005). This is also applicable in the pursuit of security. In fact, global threats, the definition of humanitarian crisis, and the nature of strategies to be developed are still defined by independent actors and foreign entities, while local, and to some extent regional, entities are excluded from the process (Donais, 2009). The absence of the survivors and affected countries from the decisionmaking table continues to engender difficulties in reframing and conceptualizing effective humanitarian and security strategies. One of the rare positive outcomes of this exclusion is that it has given space and voice to those advocating for ideas to move humanitarian reflection from state-centric to a multi-stakeholder approach. While this approach has yet to find a proper conceptual and operational framework within PACS or security studies, I believe that the use of the humanitarian-security-development paradigm could be the most suitable model for complex operations focused on state fragility.

Understanding the framework The use of a security component within this suggested framework comes as a new critical element to complement the already existing and maturing humanitarian-development nexus characterized by growing collaboration and coordination between humanitarian practitioners and development workers (Ramalingam et al., 2008). While the humanitarian-development nexus serves in establishing strong socioeconomic parameters for long-term recovery and sustainability, the complexity of societal breakdown due to a high level of insecurity and fragility requires that security factors be included into this synergistic approach to peacebuilding. This move will not occur without resistance. Although a much-needed strategy, integrating security parameters, the work of international humanitarian and development agencies remains stuck in the rigidity of mandates, missions, and capacities of the latter. Both frame their operational framework in such a way as to leave the question of security to governmental forces. A few exceptions occur when humanitarian agencies are trusted with the responsibility to manage refugee camps or provide safety to their personnel in the field. In these exceptional cases, the tendency has often been to use independent private security contractors. This rare but critical step in humanitarian action deserves high consideration in light of the current global security landscape and dynamics. It not only shows that nation-states are not the only actors with the means of coercion or the ability to promote law and order, it also shows that within the global security landscape there are competing security strategies that one should always be aware of. With regards to humanitarian strategies, while the use of independent security contractors serves a good cause, its application in host countries could face resistance due to the host countries’ state of fragility (Vaux et al., 2002). Allowing independent security contractors into host countries could be perceived either as a statement that sabotages their sovereignty or as an implicit way to encourage the use of armed groups or mercenaries. Resistance is also based on the political and historical view that nation-states are the primary and exclusive holders of the means of coercion in free, independent, and sovereign nations. This may have been true in the 19th and 20th centuries, but the current global political and security landscape does not hold to a security mechanism provided by nation-states alone. While there is a clear debate between traditionalist and globalist views of security, the former rejecting any security mechanism outside the states (Tarry, 1999), and the latter embracing the 487

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new ramification of security (Collins, 2016), it is however important to highlight that the use of independent private security contractors not only raises questions about the relevancy of the traditional role of governments, nation-state sovereignty, or again the real motivation behind the subcontracting of security. In fact, it strengthens the view that a multi-stakeholder approach to security and humanitarian action is no longer an option but a necessity.

Embracing the framework I think, in the pursuit of global security and stability, a humanitarian-security-development paradigm could be one of the best approaches to mitigate the ineffectiveness seen in many humanitarian and security operations over the years. Security experts argue that many past operations have suffered from a lack of coordination between providers and did not promote sectoral inclusiveness. The new approach should therefore tend to facilitate the operationalization of the framework with as its primary objective reaching a sustainable peace through effective multistakeholder cooperation. Ideologically and methodologically the use of complex system models of conflict situations would best serve this end (Coning, 2007). For instance, the provision of humanitarian assistance by non-states and non-partisan international humanitarian agencies has often little to do with the advancement of political agendas, nor does it push for interference in the affairs of sovereign nations. Their agenda and strategies are mainly focused on developing humanistic strategies to address human suffering. This is not always the case for government intervention. Beyond the humanistic or social aspects embodied in the essence of their humanitarian actions, they also use humanitarian actions as an extension of their foreign policy strategy. They have therefore integrated political and security rhetoric as a basis upon which their humanitarian strategies and actions are established, thus making the rhetoric of humanitarian actions a means to an end (Weiss, 1999). This political manipulation of humanitarian rhetoric has unfortunately weakened and tarnished the very principles of humanitarianism, which were deemed to be impartial and people centered as stipulated in the Geneva Conventions. While political and security narratives seem to capture the objectivity of humanitarian action and tarnish its credibility, it remains important under this inclusive framework to understand that one cannot, still, exclude them from the broader humanitarian and security framework. They are and should remain a part of bigger and inclusive emerging global humanitarian and security efforts. By embracing this framework and its main goal, bringing about peace, it is still important to remember and emphasize that effective humanitarian actions (military or otherwise) would hold to the premise of being primarily people centered and oriented.

Conclusion: Global security and the future of PACS The applicability of this approach within the current global security landscape and its contribution to the future of PACS necessitates that one reflects on (a) factors that have maintained the status quo, and (b) factors that could drive change.

Status quo The status quo in the pursuit of global and regional security, and issues of ineffectiveness in humanitarian actions, are primarily located in the nature of policies and intervention mechanisms developed by both international humanitarian organizations and governmental entities. This view appears contrary to mainstream assumptions stipulating that the state of fragilities is 488

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fueled and maintained principally by local dysfunctionalities, lack of strong institutions, and the unwillingness of armed groups to end conflicts. While it is true that local dynamics are instrumental to issues of insecurity and vulnerability in fragile states, it is equally true that major obstacles toward fixing these issues are in the nature of responses and strategies developed by either humanitarian or security providers. Again, this is not to completely exonerate local communities and actors from their contributions to the status quo. For example, in cases of food insecurity and public health crises, one could argue that the lack of adequate preventive measures due to some cultural practices, such as eating bush meats (Frieden et al., 2014), has been at the center of major global health issues such as the Ebola outbreak in West Africa in 2014 and the DRC in 2018. In these instances, locals and their culture facilitate a global crisis. However, for a larger and more complex question of fragilities and insecurity, the status quo is without doubt the limitation of a formal mode of interventions. For many years the narrative of in/security and peace was only focused on troublemakers (also considered as negative forces), with peacemakers often represented by government forces and international peacekeeping troops. Indicators of security and fragilities are globally developed and legitimized by governmental entities or groups close to governments. Failing operations or states of fragility are then blamed on the already vulnerable population or are directed to those entities fighting these established formal institutions (states). For example, the blame for the recurrent massacres of civilians in the territory of Beni in the DRC, where people are killed every week due to the obvious failure of the DRC and UN peacekeeping forces to neutralize the Allied Democratic Forces (ADF), an armed group operating in the region, is being put on civilians who are accused of hosting and hiding perpetrators. This unproductive narrative does not serve the credibility of the formal security providers nor does it help the victims. It is time to end the use of scapegoats in the narrative of security recovery. Self-examination would be valuable to the maturing process of PACS as an academic discipline and to the operational approach to issues of security and peace, since it would establish the space for objective critical analysis of the strengths and weaknesses of security providers.

Driving change The complexity of current global conflicts and the interconnectedness of both formal and informal actors at the global and local levels can no longer be addressed by embracing a very limited and closed view of security threats and mechanisms. It is now time to use complex approaches that incorporate social, political, cultural, and security aspects of the affected communities in overall strategic planning and programmatic humanitarian responses. This could include the use of Indigenous peacekeeping mechanisms, the informative and functional role of religious practices in non-Western countries, natural resources competition and/or land grabbing and ownership issues in some developing countries, etc. This complex approach to security recovery, peacemaking, and peacebuilding would in simple words mean the use of extreme non-conventional security strategies by embracing multi-stakeholders and multisectoral approaches. In conclusion, while there is no single solution or strategy to tackle current global insecurity and humanitarian crises around the world, while it is clearly demonstrated that the traditional model of security centered around nation-states is failing to be sensitive and relevant to the complexity of the current global social, cultural, political, and security landscape, I suggest that an effective operational framework for global peace, and the future of PACS as an academic discipline, would be highly informed by a shift in the perception of insecurity, the nature of threats 489

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to global security, and the role of actors within and outside nation-states in the development and implementation of security and peace strategies. This is a new era in global security when working for peace entails formulating more global complex operations to address more complex conflicts.

References Buzan, B. (1997). Rethinking security after the Cold War. Cooperation and Conflict, 32(1), 5–28. Buzan, B. (2003). Regional security complex theory in the post-Cold War world. In F. Söderbaum & T. Shaw (Eds.), Theories of New Regionalism (pp. 140–59). London: Palgrave Macmillan. Collins, A. (2016). Contemporary Security Studies. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Coning, C. D. (2007). Civil–military coordination and complex peacebuilding systems. In C. Ankersen (Ed.). Civil–Military Cooperation in Post-Conflict Operations (pp. 70–92). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Council on Foreign Relations (2018). Global Conflict Tracker. New York: Council on Foreign Relations. www.cfr.org/interactives/global-conflict-tracker#!/ Cronin, A. K. (2003). Behind the curve: Globalization and international terrorism. International Security, 27(3), 30–58. Donais, T. (2009). Inclusion or exclusion? Local ownership and security sector reform. Studies in Social Justice, 3(1), 117–31. Drury, A. C., Olson, R. S., & Van Belle, D. A. (2005). The politics of humanitarian aid: US foreign disaster assistance, 1964–1995. Journal of Politics, 67(2), 454–73. Frieden, T. R., Damon, I., Bell, B. P., Kenyon, T., & Nichol, S. (2014). Ebola 2014: New challenges, new global response and responsibility. New England Journal of Medicine, 371(13), 1177–80. Heraclides, A., & Dialla, A. (2017). Humanitarian Intervention in the Long Nineteenth Century: Setting the Precedent. Manchester, UK: Manchester University Press. Kettl, D. F. (2003). Contingent coordination: Practical and theoretical puzzles for homeland security. American Review of Public Administration, 33(3), 253–77. Larrain, J. (2013). Theories of Development: Capitalism, Colonialism and Dependency. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons. Lopičić-Jančić, J. Đ. (2011). Convention for the amelioration of the condition of the wounded in armies in the field, Geneva, August 22, 1864. Crimen, 2(1), 107–15. Meyer, J. A. (1993). Collective self-defense and regional security: Necessary exceptions to a globalist doctrine. Boston University International Law Journal, 11, 391–431. Ramalingam, B., Jones, H., Reba, T., & Young, J. (2008). Exploring the Science of Complexity: Ideas and Implications for Development and Humanitarian Efforts, Vol. 285 (pp. 1–89). London: Overseas Development Institute. Reinalda, B. (2016). Non-state actors in the international system of states. In B. Reinalda (Ed.). The Ashgate Research Companion to Non-State Actors (pp. 15–30). Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Tarry, S. (1999). “Deepening” and “widening”: An analysis of security definitions in the 1990s. Journal of Military and Strategic Studies, 2(1), 1–13. Thakur, R. (2016). The United Nations, Peace and Security: From Collective Security to the Responsibility to Protect. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Vaux, T., Seiple, C., Nakano, G., & Van Brabant, K. (2002). Humanitarian Action and Private Security Companies. London: International Alert. Weiss, T. G. (1999). Principles, politics, and humanitarian action. Ethics and International Affairs, 13, 1–22. Weiss, T. G. (2003). The illusion of UN Security Council reform. Washington Quarterly, 26(4), 147–61.

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Conclusions

CRITICAL PEACE AND CONFLICT STUDIES EMANCIPATED? Sean Byrne, Thomas Matyók, Imani Michelle Scott, and Jessica Senehi

The creative-edge contributions gathered together in this edited volume reflect the response of peace and conflict studies (PACS) to the rapidly changing nature of our times and compel our consideration. There are numerous issues vital to the forward movement of theory building, praxis, epistemologies, and pedagogy in PACS. This volume contributes to the ongoing conversation of PACS’s relevance as a discipline of its own (Chrismas & Byrne, 2017). As revolutionary advances in technology, accelerated changes in the environment, and radical increases in migration patterns add to the complexity of conflict interventions and peacebuilding processes, PACS scholars and practitioners are challenged at unprecedented, multi-dimensional levels as they advance the academic and practice components of the discipline in an increasingly conflicted world. In this regard, Johan Galtung (2010) observed that the transdisciplinary nature of PACS theories is needed to help us comprehend the deep roots of social conflicts and construct comprehensive, applicable, and transformative intervention processes. Collectively, the micro components of peace (i.e., agency, culture, gender, identity, structure, and system) produce an overall heterogeneous peacebuilding structure that is messy, conflictual, and multisystemic (Mac Ginty, 2008). Guided by these perspectives, we conclude this volume by considering the following 15 issues related to those components.

(1) Indigenous people and worldviews Johan Galtung (1996) argued that negative peace is the absence of direct violence (war) but not structural violence (embedded in societal structures and institutions) or cultural violence (art, ideology, language, religion, science), while positive peace is the presence of social justice enjoyed by all citizens. With unrelenting intent, settler colonial states continue to inform mainstream peace perspectives and disregard Indigenous worldviews, relationships, and values, while maintaining conflict within and between communities (Byrne et al., 2018a). Relationship repair and rebuilding will take time, as settler communities must be motivated to recognize and move beyond their privilege. Further, Indigenous research paradigms must be central in democratizing knowledge and in the indigenization of institutions of learning (Doerfler et al., 2013). Decolonization and indigenization awakens people’s consciousness, allowing Indigenous people to think, speak, and act from their own cultural perspectives (Clarke & Byrne, 2017; Doerfler et al., 2013; Smith, 2012). Mainstreaming is useful in mobilizing allies and partners, but it can 493

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also lead to the commodification of Indigenous peoples’ cultural knowledge, and communitarian values (Rahman et al., 2017). As Doerfler et al. (2013) have proposed, the key to addressing this concern is developing interventions that benefit local Indigenous people in terms of the recovery and restoration of their cultural capital.

(2) International peacebuilders The universal liberal technocratic values, expectations, and assumptions of neoliberal democratic peacebuilding have failed to nurture positive peace or social justice (Mac Ginty, 2008; Özerdem & Lee, 2016; Richmond, 2016). The neoliberal universalist model of aid, democracy, elections, human rights, liberal organizations, legal and security reform, and a free market economy has used prescriptive models to cope with and manage conflicts in fragmented societies (Chandler, 2017). However, Mac Ginty (2008, 2015) notes that critical and emancipatory peacebuilding must include local people’s everyday needs and ownership of their peacebuilding processes. Powerful, regional, and global actors combined with recalcitrant ethnic elites engulf, shape, and determine various ethnopolitical conflict cases (Harff & Gurr, 2018). They use the neoliberal peacebuilding process to manage these conflicts (negative peace) (Paffenholz, 2015). This begs the question of how much agency do local everyday actors, especially women, children, and other minorities involved in peace processes, really have? Ultimately, the hidden activities and resilient stories of localized struggles to resist social injustice and work for human rights and social justice (Senehi, 2017) must be elicited if true, positive peace is to be realized.

(3) Local resilient peacemakers In societies attempting to transition out of violent conflicts, competing stories of victimology, sectarianism, ethnocentrism, and the control of knowledge production are legacies of ethnopolitical conflicts, which persist as obstacles to deep reconciliation and sustainable peacebuilding (Byrne & Senehi, 2012). Rival ethnopolitical leaders promote irreconcilable silos of ethnonationalist myths and false truths to strengthen dominant discourses that promote their interests by Balkanizing communities rather than promoting broader political and social change (Chandler, 2017). Consequently, neoliberal peace criteria have been unable to fully address the needs of local people. Local people’s visions and peacebuilding strategies are often perceived as “unimportant and unfamiliar” by global North actors who place responsibility for the outcomes of building local capacity on the locals (Leonardsson & Rudd, 2015, p. 826). Ultimately, complicated stories of local resilience must be embraced to better address trauma and restore and normalize relationships (Paffenholz, 2015).

(4) Young peacebuilders Young people critically analyze and interact within their milieu, constructing their own ideas about peace and war through different perspectives as perpetrators, victims, and peacebuilders at different times during a conflict (McEvoy-Levy, 2006). Youth are often marginalized, stigmatized, dehumanized, distrusted, and forcibly kidnapped during wars. Yet, the young are resilient and active agents who empower themselves by the stories they choose to tell, while they create sustainable jobs, and protect their neighborhoods against militia groups (Agbiboa, 2015, p. 37). Spaces must be created for them in socioeconomic, political, and cultural structures that harness their energy and resourcefulness. Young people are facing many hardships in terms of finding livelihoods and being saddled with debt and environmental catastrophe. The life experiences of children, often on the margins 494

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of society, need to be central to inclusive peacebuilding processes that include an ethic of care (Özerdem & Podder, 2015). Their resilience, potential, and experience should be a major chapter in the story of the community (Senehi, 2002). This is especially so for the resettlement of refugee children adjusting to new cultural norms, language barriers, and disrupted education as they cope with parents who have experienced their own trauma, who in turn struggle with loneliness, racism, and the financial burden of the change in their economic status (Fast, 2017). These young people are often at risk of criminal activity, sexual exploitation, trafficking, and gangs as they try to find their way (Fast, 2017). We need to understand how these young people make sense of their lives. Storytelling peacebuilding projects can be useful in this regard to understand how these young people see the complexity of problems, and what it is like for them to grow up in societies where their ideas and energies are marginalized, especially societies transitioning out of violent conflicts (Senehi, 2010). The inclusion of their voices will inform the state’s securitization policy to counter radicalization as well as empowering young people by including them in the peacebuilding process.

(5) Women peacebuilders In 2000, United Nations Security Council Resolution (UNSCR) 1325 was the first declaration of its kind to articulate a “women, peace and security agenda” to elevate the role of women in conflict resolution and peacebuilding. For women peacemakers, UNSCR 1325 was especially supportive since it “affirm[ed] that peace and security efforts are more sustainable when women are equal partners in the prevention of violent conflict, the delivery of relief and recovery efforts and in the forging of lasting peace” (USIP, n.d.). However, nearly two decades since this affirmation, “women remain underrepresented in peacemaking” (Verveer, 2017, p. 6). Women play critical formal and informal roles in peace processes, and active measures need to be taken to more directly involve their voices and energies in all aspects of peacemaking, peacebuilding, and peacekeeping. Women leaders can press governments to change the laws, build new skills and networks, and ensure that the rights of wounded female veterans are protected (Porter, 2013). International covenants, treaties, and tribunals such as UN Resolution 1325 and Security Council Resolution 1820 recognized the impact of war and rape-warfare on women (Porter, 2013, p. 248), many of whom are objectified, harassed, assaulted, and trafficked as collateral damage to conflict. On the other hand, women have also participated as active agents in guerrilla organizations like the African National Congress (ANC), Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC), the Provisional Irish Republican Army (PIRA), and Shining Path (Theidon et al., 2011, p. 21). Even so, there is a masculinist orientation to militarism in contrast to values of relationship and the culture of caring (Creary & Byrne, 2015). Women peacemakers will prioritize policies around childcare, education, health care, food and water access, property rights, and women’s reproductive rights (Porter, 2013). As Elizabeth Porter (2013) noted, “having gained experience in cooperation, communication and democratic participation, women can introduce these experiences into practical politics” (p. 259).

(6) LGBTQ∗, disability activists and human rights Dominant patriarchal power structures maintain control through the marginalization and often exclusion of others’ voices and realities. For instance, where gender and sexuality and disability are concerned, heterosexism uses practices and values that embrace cross-sex relationships, while heteropatriarchy extols heterosexual masculinity as superior to assertions of femininity (Mizzi & Byrne, 2015). The result is the normalization of heterosexuality with no space left to examine fluid 495

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and non-binary ideas of gender, sex, and sexuality (Mizzi & Byrne, 2015). And because LGBTQ∗ and disability rights activists are not fully embraced by the patriarchal power structure, they are typically excluded from drafting policies, regulations, and practices to account for their concerns. For example, Section 75(2) of the 1998 Northern Ireland Act ensures that all public bodies must provide equality before the law for Northern Ireland’s citizens, yet there is no disability or sexual orientation strategy in place and homophobic crimes as well as violence against people living with disabilities have recently skyrocketed (Byrne et al., 2018b, p. 34). Brexit might also entail the disappearance of civil and human rights that are enshrined in EU laws and directives. A hard Border threatens the fragile peace in 2019 as the New IRA murdered journalist Lyra McKee, and set off a bomb at the Derry courthouse. Peace and justice are defined solely around ethnoreligious identity in the 2013 Northern Ireland government’s Together Building a United Community document, while activist groups like the Rainbow Coalition, Queer Space, and Cara-Friend are supporting young people who are coming out, advocating for samesex marriage in Northern Ireland, and providing awareness training in schools (Byrne et al., 2018b, p. 39). Building a relevant and inclusive peace benefits all citizens.

(7) Civ–Mil peacebuilding It is essential for successful peace operations that PACS scholars and practitioners view civil– military interaction (CMI) as the new normal. Wicked, intractable conflicts call for whole-ofsociety approaches to their management and transformation. There is enough peacebuilding work for everyone, and the PACS discipline must avoid the temptation to assume a monopoly on peace. Militaries today often arrive late to a violent conflict or humanitarian disaster. The nature of conflict has changed (Matyók, 2016). Local actors and NGOs are often on the ground well in advance of the military. In current conflicts military actors find themselves engaged less in kinetic engagements and more in peacebuilding activities. Today, military success hinges on an ability to successfully work with populations (Annen & Nakkas, 2013). The changing character of modern conflict requires a tectonic shift in peacebuilding thinking (Smith, 2008). Civil society and the military are obliged to work together during complex operations to create safe-and-secure environments with human security as their unity-of-aim.

(8) Religious leaders and social justice Religions maintain a trajectory toward peace. Reconciliation is the business of religion, and it is religion that keeps the moral alive (Tuso et al., 2014). For peacebuilders, these are significant points. Religious leaders can be natural peacebuilding allies. The world is becoming more, not less, religious. Religious hostilities continue to increase in number and intensity (Pew Research Center, 2014). More than 84 percent of the global population reports a religious affiliation (Pew Research Center, 2014). Religious individuals make up a majority of all education levels, and those younger than 34 years old report being more religious than those older. Trend analysis suggests religion will continue to grow throughout the globe for the foreseeable future (Matyók, 2016). The most trusted individuals in conflict and post-conflict environments are religious organizations and actors. Religious formations generally maintain social service delivery systems even in the face of ongoing conflict. Irrespective of facts on the ground, as an aspect of PACS, religion continues to be understudied and undertheorized (Tuso et al., 2014). As a discipline, there seems to be some unwillingness 496

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to engage religion and religious actors in peace operations. This unwillingness will not make them go away. Simply put, religion endures. PACS scholars and practitioners are obliged to develop a religious literacy that prepares them to operate in an increasingly religious world.

(9) Peacemakers of ethnic diversity and color Given the Euro-based origin and heavily Westernized slant of PACS, there exists a dearth of theory, research, pedagogy, and practice dedicated to resolving conflicts related to ethnocentrism, xenophobia, particularly racism. Even so, ethnic conflicts provoked specifically by racism, ethnocentrism, and oppression have been distinct hallmarks of the early 21st century, especially in countries of the global North. Xenophobia based on irrational fears of the outgroup and marginalized others has been fueled for political expediency and economic control to elevate interpersonal and intercommunal division, distrust, and hatreds to new levels (Scott, 2014). Direct and indirect violence linked to systemic racism against African Americans and members of other ethnic groups conveniently labeled “persons of color” have been marked and persistent (Scott, 2014). The deficiency of PACS’s attention to pervasive and longstanding social conflict grounded in racism and oppression reinforces the cleavage between higher education’s attendance to issues concerning the socially prominent and neglect of those concerning the marginalized. In addition to being located in the discipline’s origins this particular inadequacy of PACS might also be ascribed to its failure to better integrate amongst its ranks of scholars and practitioners persons of color who more adequately represent the global variation of ethnicities and the synchronization of their interests. To adapt the view of Audre Lorde (1979) “it is a particular academic arrogance” to assume any consideration of a given group’s interests without including members of that group in the discussion (p. 111). Ultimately, it is critical for the advancement of PACS that we advocate for a greater inclusion of those typically marginalized and the concerns that impact them; otherwise, we will simply replicate the oppressive goals of the hegemony.

(10) Environmental justice An increasing global population, declining resources, pollution, species extinction, and climate change are prompting environmental justice activists and international institutions to champion new green technologies such as solar and wind energy to replace fossil fuels and support responsible development (Morton, 2018). In the face of growing environmental crises President Trump recently refused to ratify the 2018 Paris climate agreement as part of the UN framework convention on climate change to address greenhouse gas emissions. This political behavior demonstrates a lack of consensus on the way forward, further exacerbating ongoing environmental conflicts. A new “ecopolitics” is emerging whereby the environmental social justice movement is advocating for an end to the consumer culture and lifestyle to create a new paradigm around cutting dependence on oil and gas, living within our means, preserving earth’s bio-diversity in order to reverse environmental damage by recognizing invisible socio-environmental damage and invisible socio-environmental costs, and to prevent future wars over our natural resources (Bretthauer, 2017; Welzer, 2012). The environmental justice movement is mobilizing for collective action to prevent a Not In My Back Yard (NIMBY) syndrome from frustrating needed responses to global environmental conflicts (Klare, 2008). The environment is a casualty of, and a cause of, war, while environmental sustainability is a critical ingredient and condition of authentic peace (Levy & Vaillancourt, 2011). 497

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Placing eco-centered projects at the core of environmental peacemaking, and integrating environmental issues into conflict resolution processes in an interdependent and collaborative system around environmental sustainability, can prevent intra- and inter-state wars (Levy & Vaillancourt, 2011, p. 234).

(11) Refugees, immigrants, and diasporas Politicians in host countries need to support the socioeconomic, cultural, and political integration of displaced refugees in inclusive partnerships with business and political communities (Wilkinson, 2013). Then the housing and property rights of repatriated refugees must be enshrined in peace accords in terms of national reconciliation and gender mainstreaming (Chimni, 2002). Added to that, the transnational diaspora should be included in the repatriation process as the “brain gain” network between host and home countries, allowing a cross-fertilization of ideas at all levels (Chimni, 2002). To lessen the trauma of war the diaspora must also provide remittances to home countries for those suffering from Continuing Traumatic Stress Disorder (CTSD) after their experience of living through war (Frietas, 2012). Some in the refugee diaspora can hold extremist views and may pose security risks in the host country while others are “insider partials” that understand the nature of the conflict and are acceptable to the parties in an intermediary role (Smith & Stares, 2007). Diasporas provide socioeconomic and political support by creating business networks, and in nurturing governance programs (Turner & Kuhn, 2015). Ironically, diaspora women’s contributions are often devalued, essentialized, and relegated to specific gender roles, while the international community wants the diaspora to impose global North values on local cultures (Turner & Kuhn, 2015). People need to become critically aware of the othering of groups such as young refugees and immigrants, which allows the scourge of marginalization to continue in society. Globally, a collective prevention and intervention strategy that calls for cross-community collaborations with different agencies and civil society organizations (CSOs) is the only way to address marginalized groups, such as young sex workers who are groomed, trafficked, and enslaved as young as 12 or 13 years of age (Bello, 2017; Chrismas, 2017). Similarly, with regard to homegrown youth radicalization to violence, we need to understand the intersectionality of relative deprivation, identity politics, discrimination, anomie, ethnocentrism, lack of hope, and access to social media that are at the roots of second-generation refugee and immigrant youth marginalization (Bello, 2017; Wilkinson, 2013). Deradicalization necessitates educating the public and strengthening the construction of each state’s core values of secularism, human rights, and multiculturalism to break down stereotypes and build resilient communities (Carr, 2015). Newcomers need to be included and properly integrated economically, culturally, and socially into the society and ghettoization avoided (Wilkinson, 2013). Immigrants and refugees are marginalized by government policies that prioritize those with certain skills, education, and capital, and host cultural values and norms can also discriminate against newcomers and prevent civic and economic integration (Berry, 2017). People are politicized through racism and Islamophobia, as multiculturalism is under attack by both the left and the right, politically (Bello, 2017).

(12) Globalization and peacebuilding Roger Mac Ginty (2008) asks what kind of peace is being built in post-peace accord societies that are interconnected in the global community? Globalization causes and maintains unequal relationships and poverty that ignite local conflicts (Thiessen & Byrne, 2017). There 498

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is a myriad of local actors with contending agendas as well as many local actors, practices, and knowledge systems that resist dominant local elites and external actors who impose liberal peacebuilding processes (organizations, donors, states, regimes, corporations) that obfuscate local needs and values in a neoliberal archetype (Paffenholz, 2015; Thiessen, 2011). Indigenous and local peacemaking processes are ignored, coopted, or marginalized (Richmond, 2016; Rahman et al., 2017). Pragmatic nonviolent social movements such as MASSOB in Biafra are using nonviolent direct action to transform relationships and structures within Nigeria (Azubuike, 2018). CSOs are forging peaceful change in a broadened civil society while peace leaders mobilize people around an ethic of caring, resilience, and social justice to tackle difficult issues (Amaladas & Byrne, 2017). Indigenous peacemaking tools and arts-based peacebuilding processes are inclusive and are decolonizing oppressive structures to empower people (Byrne, 2017; Smith, 2012). There is movement afoot for local people to work for peace and justice within a critical and emancipatory peacebuilding framework, to struggle for people’s basic human needs noting the connections between poverty and conflict in the struggle for social justice and meaningful change for all (Thiessen & Byrne, 2017). It is critical to note that people do pragmatic peaceful acts everyday outside of mainstream peace processes (Mac Ginty, 2011).

(13) Global common security Humankind and the plant and animal kingdom’s security is threatened by disease and environmental degradation as well as biological, chemical, conventional, and nuclear weapons that can lead to intra- and inter-state wars (Alvarez, 2017). A meaningful world security system means thinking outside of the realist just war perspective of unlimited and limited self-defense or a war abolition beating swords into ploughshares approach or having a global Leviathan protecting our international security (the UN) in an idealist vision of limited security, to instead create a more pragmatic approach based on a common environmental security (Tschirgi, 2013) and an Earth armistice (Boudreau, 2018). On July 12, 2018, in an unprecedented approach to address climate change and global warming, the Irish Dail (parliament) passed a bill to become the world’s first country to divest from fossil fuels (coal, gas, oil, and peat) within five years, focusing instead on renewable energy. Current conflicts between the international community and North Korea and Iran over nuclear proliferation demands security sector reforms that include new innovative national and international security strategies to prevent the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction in our globalized and interdependent world milieu, using multilateral diplomacy to deter nuclear attack (Floyd & Matthew, 2013). The global security milieu is witnessing the fragmentation of a neoliberal, rules-based world order that is now under threat from authoritarian regimes in Iran, China, Russia, DRC, and others (Ohanyan, 2015) as the US retreats into splendid isolationism under Trumpmania, and the EU is unsure of its role in this changing global space. Regional hegemons are beginning to fill the power vacuum and escalate their meddling behavior in intra-state conflicts as great powers fixate on conflicts that directly threaten their strategic interests (Ohanyan, 2015). An integrated common security studies (Ohanyan, 2015) and critical and emancipatory peacebuilding framework (Thiessen, 2011) is a strategic peacebuilding approach in addressing these escalating and complex protracted ethnopolitical conflicts. Conflict transformation must, therefore, be inclusive of local people’s needs and epistemologies building on their resilience. It must include new and innovative peace methodologies as well as critical Civ–Mil collaboration in ensuring the implementation of peace accords. 499

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(14) Pedagogy, theory building, and praxis Burgeoning PACS undergraduate and graduate programs have accelerated development of the discipline. Having carved out a definite space in the academic canon, PACS is now a discipline with its own literature, language, and professional associations. It leads the research, teaching, and practice of peace and conflict issues. The future of PACS in colleges and universities is departments staffed with peace scholars, not ones cobbled together with “affiliated” faculty from other departments who teach “peace related” classes. PACS today has graduated enough PhDs to fully staff departments. Peace is more than wishful thinking and requires an educated cadre of peace professionals capable of meeting the challenges of building sustainable political, economic, environmental justice, and social peace structures. It is about the architecture of peace. Peace education at all levels must be nonviolent – the medium is the message. PACS classes will be required to replicate the social space we seek to create in the larger society. Hierarchy in classrooms will be replaced with horizontal relationships based on equity. Power will be diffuse, not centralized and held close by teachers and professors. Learning will be problem-based, and PACS classrooms will merge general and discipline knowledge with society building, creating a whole new generation of pracademics.

(15) Trauma reduction and mass violence Genocide in Rwanda and Cambodia, ethnic cleansing in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Kosovo, and the ethnocide of the Kurds and Indigenous peoples bring our attention to what Vamik Volkan (1998) terms the role of “chosen traumas” and “chosen glories” in the “transgenerational transmission of trauma.” Societies transitioning out of a violent past, especially where there has been mass violence and a gross violation of human rights, demand peacebuilding interventions that pay attention to trauma reduction. Storytelling and arts-based processes, such as Theater of Witness at the micro level and truth and reconciliation processes at the macro level, have assisted in trauma reduction (Senehi 2002, 2010). PACS praxis must pay more attention to the impact of trauma on survivors in the aftermath of gross violence and the implication for peace processes as well as humanitarian workers, peace practitioners, and PACS scholars.

Conclusions It is not all doom-and-gloom. Certainly, there is much to be done to build peace-on-earth. The challenges inherent in peacebuilding should not deter us from the hard work of advancing peace and justice. Around the world, on a daily basis, individuals are working to eliminate violence and end oppression. Grassroots peacebuilding efforts often go unnoticed as elites occupy the political, economic, and cultural space. This can lead to “peace fatigue” amongst dedicated peacebuilders, especially if government officials are not leading. There is a need to replenish the ranks of like-minded individuals. PACS scholars and practitioners must remain motivated to continue the difficult work of peacebuilding. Although we outline and speak to the challenges to peacebuilding, we remain committed to the discipline of peace and conflict studies. We conclude this book by noting the promise of PACS in the movement toward critical and emancipatory peacebuilding and in meeting people’s needs within a social justice framework (Thiessen, 2011). This necessitates including local and international actors, epistemologies, networks, practices, and resources in authentic and empowering processes that work in harmony to ensure that the dignity and needs of all people are met equally. 500

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503

INDEX

9/11 37, 301, 315, 481; peacebuilding after 318–19 Aborigines see Indigenous people academia, US, systemic racism 432–5 accompaniment 72–3 accountability 74, 95, 128, 404, 410, 453 acculturation 304, 305, 351, 356 Acosta, Henry 40 activism: Border Justice Movement (BJM) 203–13; LGBTQ+ 192, 193; motherhood and 183–5; nonviolent 72–3; see also civic engagement; collective action; resistance Addams, Jane 361 advocacy 32–3, 69, 145, 298, 329–30 affective learning 98, 99 Afghanistan 32, 37, 133–4, 318, 339 Africa: North, displacement 482; Sub-Saharan, female mortality 158; UN peacekeeping 475–6; youth bulge 328 African Americans, and systemic racism 427–37 African National Congress (ANC) 41, 441 African Union (AU) 446 agency 69, 74, 82–92; and litigation 89; and structure/power 82–3; and voice 298; see also reflexivity agriculture 111 aid 121, 163, 331, 450 Albert Einstein Institute 439 Al-Qaeda 405 Alternatives to Violence (AVP) 71 Americas: colonial wars 82, 230–1; indigenous experiences in 230–1, 236; see also United States (US) Amnesty International (AI) 145, 151–2, 377, 409 Annan, Kofi 81, 162, 318, 472

anti-colonialism 31 apartheid, South Africa 40–2, 90 Arab Spring 28–9 Arab–Israeli War, 1948 240 Arab–Jewish relations (Israel) 248–55; see also Israel/Palestine arbitration 88, 463 Argentina 440 armed groups, recruitment of youth 328, 331–2 Armenian–Azerbaijani conflict 32 arms deals, US-Saudi 319 Arnold, Jobb 59, 63 arts: arts-based research 47, 50; and conflict resolution 95; in local peacebuilding 138; youth peacebuilding 100–8, 332–4 Association of South East Asian Nations (ASEAN) 329, 445–6 asylum seekers see refugees atrocities 408, 472 Australia, trauma stories 52–3 Austria 296, 420 authority, state 451–2 autocracies, decisionmaking 111 autoethnographic approach 52 Azerbaijan 32, 48 Balkans, conflict in 317 Bannon, Stephen K. 38 Banteay Prieb (vocational training centre) 123 bargaining 87–8 Barnett, M. 215, 308, 452–3, 454 Battle of the Bulge 227 behavioral learning 98, 99, 104 Belfast Agreement, 1998 30, 374, 377, 392, 496 belonging and Otherness 181–2 bias 113, 115

504

Index Border Justice Movement (BJM) 196, 203–13 Bosnia-Herzegovina 28, 30 Botswana, storytelling 51 boundaries 245–7 Boutros-Ghali, Boutros, Agenda for Peace 60, 316–17, 472 Brahimi Report (2000) 471, 472, 477 Brexit 445 Britain: and the Americas 231; Anglo-Irish War 385–6; and Brexit 445; City of Sanctuary movement 298; colonial history 231; exclusionary response to refugee crisis 293; and Irish Home Rule 389; and Israel/Palestine 83, 240; see also colonialism Brock-Utne, Birgit 363 Buddhist monks, Cambodia 127–8 bullying 99, 101–4 Burton, John 259, 262–5 Burundi 160 Bush, George W. 37, 38, 476 business community, and human rights 408, 410 Cambodia 121; disabled communities in 193–4; local ownership and funding 122–8 Camp David Peace Accord, 1997 32 Canada 50, 233; indigenous experiences in 227–8, 229, 349–56; Manitoba 53, 170–5; natural resource extraction 237–8; sacred sites 236, 238–9; TRC 226, 441–2 capacity building 121, 407, 410–11, 453 capitalism, and globalization 132 Capstone Doctrine 473, 474 Carinthia, Austria 419 Carter, Jimmy 442–3 ceasefires 29, 40, 442, 464, 465 Chandler, David 6, 453, 454 Chechnyan refugees 48 Chicago, US, and violence 280–9 children 494–5; definition 327; indigenous schools 226, 228, 231–2, 233; marriage, Syria 158–9; soldiers 328, 331–2; see also women/girls; youth Chile 440 China 31, 32, 319, 474, 475 citizenship 192, 193, 387 City of Sanctuary movement 298 civic engagement 96, 214–25; see also peace education Civil Affairs (CA) organizations, military 337, 339–41 civil disobedience see nonviolent action civil society, stakeholders 61 civil society organizations/actors 137, 321, 344, 409; Columbia 330; and white visibility 205–6 civil wars 84–7, 317, 319, 383, 385–6 civilian casualties 28, 32, 158–9, 465 civilian protection 483, 484; and the UN 471–80 civil–military interaction (CMI) see CMI

Clarke, Mary Anne 52 climate change 137–8, 497, 499; see also environmental conflict Clinton, Bill 443, 476 CMI 337, 340–1, 496; JCMI 341–6 cognitive dissonance 115, 262 cognitive imperialism 228, 350 cognitive learning 98, 99, 102–3 Cold War: and Civ–Mil texts 342; UN peacekeeping 471 Cold War, end of: and globalization/securitization 294; and international peacebuilding 316–18 collaboration 342; local, with international donors 125–6; UNESCO 478–9; women and 174–5 collective action 269–70, 275, 319, 329–30 collective identities 417 collectivist cultures 266 colonialism/colonization 52, 82; education/ indoctrination 228; and global capitalism 132; and indigenous oppression 138, 230–1, 349–56; and local peacebuilding 64; neo-colonialism 133–4, 139; see also postcolonialism coloniality 361 color-blindness 204 Columbia: conflict, history 330–1; conflict transformation/TRC 39–40, 440; LGBTQ+ rights in 193; youth peacebuilding 326–36 combat, types of 338 communication 305–7; cross-cultural 344; and culture 309; intercultural 304–5 community: -based tourism 124; and democracy/ accountability 74; empowerment 443; epistemic 243; mediation 70–1; organizations see civil society organizations/actors; education 93–109; women’s peacebuilding 167–77; see also Racialized Peacebuilding (RP) Complex Indigenous Conflict System (CICS) 350, 352–6 compliance 463–4 confidence building 89 conflict: systems-nature of 338, 343; and wicked problems 340 conflict engagement, and shared vision 248, 251–3 conflict management 337, 344, 459–69; trajectories 466–7 conflict metanarratives see metanarratives conflict resolution 68–78, 265, 337, 438–48; see also ICR conflict transformation 25–34, 136–7, 418–21; actors, and internal party divisions 26–7; conditions for 28–30; LGBTQ+ and disability rights 189–99; obstacles to 31–3; settlement/ conciliation 30–1; value systems 31 Congo, DR of 453, 471, 475, 486, 489 connection and intimacy 153–4 consent 471

505

Index contact theory 272–7 context 114, 321, 454; see also local actors/ ownership conversational approach, interviews 49–50 Cormier, Paul 46, 49 corporal punishment 232–3 corruption 283, 386, 431, 477; of leadership 248; NCTA 181, 183; and state fragility 407; and UN 475, 477 counter-insurgency (COIN) thinkers 342 covenant 391 creative arts see arts crime 193, 281, 283–5, 496; see also homicides; human trafficking; organized crime; sex trafficking criminal justice system, and restorative justice 71–2 crises, control, and the UN 393–402 critical and emancipatory methodologies 5, 138, 494 critical memory 380 Critical Peace Education (CPE) 364–5, 368–9 critical pedagogy 362 critical race theory 47 critical theory, on liberal peacebuilding 320–2 critical thinking/pedagogy 94, 362 Cuba 40 Cuban Missile Crisis 399 culture, cultural 303–4, 351; and ceremony 353; competency 305, 344; diversity-based pedagogy 305–6, 308; gender inequality 157–8; and ICR 265–6; LGBTQ+ and disabled rights 197; relativism 404, 408; violence and politicization 354–6; see also diversity; UNESCO Curle, Adam 69, 439 curricula: peacebuilding as core outcome 310; see also peace education Cyprus 51, 239, 375–6, 379 dance, Columbia 332–4 Dayton Peace Accord, 1995 30, 167 debt, international 139, 443 decidivism 286 decisionmaking 487; democratic 190–1; and tokenism 208; women and 164, 172, 174; see also leadership; mediation defense strategies, and regionalization 486 deliberative democracy 74, 392 demobilization, troop, and RPAs 87 democracy 38, 153–4, 391, 392; see also liberal democracy democratic peace paradigm 6 Denborough, David 52–3, 54 Department of Peacekeeping Operations (DPKO) 472, 474–5, 477 development 317, 318, 320, 411, 454 Dewey, John 361

dialogue 89; and communication 306; intercultural 301–2, 306, 309; open inclusive public 418–22 diasporas 124, 261, 498 diplomacy 88, 393–402, 442–3 disability, disability rights 189–99, 496; and citizenship 193; demographics 192–3 disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration (DDR) 451 discourse 59–60 displacement 158–9, 330, 332, 349, 482; see also refugees diversity 308, 415–16 Do No Harm principles 452, 455, 456 donation campaigns 124 donor states 33; power/interests 453, 454–5 drugs (illegal) 285 East Timor 31, 134 Easter Rising, 1916 (Ireland) 385, 389 Eastern Europe 148, 404 Echavarria, Josefina 296–7, 298 ecological justice 137–8 economic crises, and sex trafficking 148 economic health, and peacebuilding 466 economic rights 411 economic sanctions 461 education 362; Arab–Jewish action-research 248–55, 261; human rights 411; need for creativity/empathy 380; refugees/asylum seekers 297; US, systemic racism 432–7; see also Indian residential schools; JUHAN curriculum/ project; UNESCO Egypt 29, 32 elites, elitism 5, 139, 452, 453; inflexibility of 32; and peacebuilding 27; political 416 Ellacuría, Ignacio 216, 218, 222 Emmett, Chad F. 236 emotions, and learning 217 empathy 51, 95, 99, 153–4, 379–80; implied 239; students’ 220, 223; and vulnerability 179 employment: gender and 54, 158, 172; labor disputes 87 empowerment 70, 73–4, 410–11; social justice and 68–9; women and 164; see also scholarship of engagement environmental conflict 110–19, 393, 497 environmental protection 137–8, 499 envisioning processes 70 Ethical and Shared Remembering 383–4, 386 ethics, ethical 46–7, 219, 220–1, 223 ethnic cleansing 33 ethnic homogeneity 415 ethnic identity 205, 265, 416–18; see also African Americans; Indigenous people ethnocentrism, in learning environments 308–9 ethnonationalism 38

506

Index Europe: nationalism 389; peacebuilding 30; post-WWII reconstruction 339; Reformations 387–8; and the refugee crisis 291–300; see also colonialism/colonization European Court of Human Rights (ECHR) 462 European Union (EU) 82, 391, 444–5; on asylum and migration 292–3, 294–5 evaluation: of peace education 95–6; youth training program 98–9 everyday peacebuilding 46, 63–4 exclusionism 82–3

Harris, Ian 363 health, health care 159–61, 489 Hezbollah 27, 28 higher education, US, systemic racism 432–7 holism, holistic frameworks 49, 137, 156–63, 351 homicides 147, 429; Chicago, US 281, 283, 287; of migrants 181; NCTA 180 homophobia 193, 496 human needs 248, 265 human rights 302, 391, 472; abuses 441, 475; advocacy, and AI 145; critiques 408; ECHR 462; and fact-finding/litigation 88–9; healthrelated 158–9; indigenous 351; operationalizing, post-Cold War 403–13; pre-9/11 404; and storytelling 51; and trafficking 145–6; UN 81; US 431; see also civilian protection human trafficking 146, 294–5; see also sex trafficking humanism 362 humanitarianism 465, 483, 484; JUHAN curriculum/project 214–25; and political rhetoric 488 humanitarian-security-development paradigm 487–8 humanities 138 Hungary, border fence 292 Hussein, Saddam 37–8 hybrid peacebuilding 135–6

fact-finding, and litigation 88–9 factionalism 27–8, 29 fair trade 124, 139 FARC 39–40, 330, 331 farming techniques 111 feminism: and everyday resistance 61; on family/ divorce mediation 69; and peace education 363; and pornography 150–1; and researcher reflexivity 51–2; on vulnerability 178–80 Fight the New Drug (FTND) 149 financial dependence, reduction of 124–5 Fink, L. D. 217 Fisher, R. 112, 262, 264, 306, 356 food insecurity 489 Food Security, Income generation, Training and Health project (FAITH) 123 forced disappearance, Central America 182–6 forced migration see displacement; refugees Foucault, Michel 46, 59–60, 62 Freire, Paolo 94, 362 Galtung, Johan 57, 60, 316, 373; on positive/ negative peace 493; on social justice 131; on transdisciplinary approaches 61, 62, 493; on violence 157, 349, 354–5 Gandhi, Mohandas K. (Mahatma) 69, 439–40 Gaza 90–1 Gellner, E. 379, 380 gender: equality/inequality 157–8, 163; and leadership 440, 495; and rurality 170; and sex trafficking 147; storytelling 50; see also masculinity; women/girls Geneva Convention, Fourth 484 genocide 350, 475, 476 Georgakopoulos, Alexia 96–8 Germany: and EU leadership 443; and refugees/ migrants 292, 294 Gilligan, C. 152–4 Global Campaign for Peace Education (GCPE) 305 global governance 459 global security 481–3, 484–90, 499 globalization 132, 148, 180, 203, 498 good governance 408–9 grassroots organizations 124, 190, 298, 321, 411 Greece, Greeks 239, 443

ICR 260–8 identity, identities 248; and boundaries 245–7; collective/shared 190, 192, 352–3; complexities of 189, 194, 196; religiocentric and religiorelative 243; see also intersectionality; nationalism identity politics 115, 118, 297 IGOs 408–9 impartiality 471, 472 imperialism 132, 133, 486–7; see also cognitive imperialism; colonialism inclusivity 321, 418–22; conflict transformation 189–90; LGBTQ+ and disabled communities 189–97 India 236, 238–9, 439 Indian residential schools 226, 228, 231–2, 233, 441–2 Indigenous people 266, 341–2; and the BJM 209–10; children, and cognitive imperialism 228, 231–3; in conflict 230; and cultural revival 233; displaced 349, 354; identity, and conflict 354–5; leadership 230, 231, 233; and local knowledge/ownership 45, 48–9, 135–6, 137–8; marginalization 231, 236; sacred sites 237–8; traditions 230, 233–4; and TRCs 440–2; and the UCCHS 242 individualism 266 Indonesia 31, 242, 329

507

Index inequality 136, 274; see also social justice informal economies 454 Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) 41 innovations 364, 450 Institute for Multi-Track Diplomacy (IMTD) 443 institutional norms 350, 451–2 instructors, self-monitoring 309 interactive conflict resolution (ICR) 260–8 intercommunal dialogue 261–2 intercultural communication 304–5, 309 Intercultural Communication Competence (ICC) 306–7 intercultural dialogue 301–2, 306, 309 interest groups, representation of 190, 192 intergroup conflict/cooperation 246–9, 253, 265, 272–7; see also social identity international, the, and the local 5 International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) 483 International Cooperation Cambodia (ICC) 123 International Court of Justice (ICJ) 462–3, 476 international crises see crises international development actors 317–18 international environmental conflict see environmental conflict international governmental organizations (IGOs) 40 International Institute on Peace Education 433 International Monetary Fund 465 international norms 484 international organizations (IOs) 317, 341, 450, 453, 454, 461, 486; see also civil society organizations/actors; United Nations (UN) international peacebuilding see liberal peacebuilding internet, sex trafficking and pornography 147–50 intersectionality 49 intimacy and connection 153–4 intragroup conflicts 247–9, 253–4 intra-state conflicts 444, 459; and UN operations 471 introspection, self-reflection 118 Inuit 48, 50 Iran 29, 39 Iraq 37–8, 134, 318 Ireland: Brexit and 445; building plurality and democracy in 391; the Church in 391; City of Sanctuary movement 298; Free State 387, 389; political and religious history 383, 385–9; women and citizenship 386–7; see also Northern Ireland Islamic State (ISIS) 319 Islamophobia 406 Israel/Palestine 28, 90–1, 236, 240; Arab–Jewish relations 248–55, 261; and Egypt 32, 443; and the UN partition agreement 83; and the UN/ ROs 464

Japan, atomic bomb in 484 Jerusalem 32, 240 Jesuit heritage 216 Jews: sacred sites 240; see also Israel/Palestine joint civil–military interaction (JCMI) see under CMI Joint Civil–Military Interaction Research and Education Network 343 judicial proceedings, and fact-finding 88 JUHAN curriculum/project 214–25 justice, local see social justice Kaldor, Mary 403–4 Kara, Siddarth 147, 148–9 Kearney, Richard 384–5 Kenya: disability rights 196; sex trafficking 49 kill-and-break-things approach 338 King, Jr., Martin Luther 114, 435–6, 439, 440 Kirkpatrick’s model of training evaluation 98–9 knowledge, local 58, 190–1, 454 Korean Peninsula 393 Kosovo 476, 477 Kriesberg, Louis 57, 261 Kroeker, Wendy 48–9 Kuhn, Thomas 117, 280 Kyoon-Achan, Grace 48, 50 labor see employment land/territory: grabs 112; indigenous 351, 354–6; peace settlements 32 language 379–80 Latin America 72, 216 Laue, James 68–9, 75, 114 law: of armed conflicts 483; rule of 408–9; and special interests 112; conflict management 462–4 Law of the Seas 112, 115–16 leadership: collaboration 442; and gender inequality 173–4; gender issues 211–12, 440, 495; grassroots 190; indigenous 230, 231, 233; racialized 205; religious 239, 241, 242–3; revised manners of 137; UN 478–9; see also decisionmaking; JUHAN curriculum/project learning, significant 217 Lederach, John Paul 57, 58, 61, 64, 297; Building Peace 442; on conflict transformation 189, 190–1, 197, 307, 356; criticism of liberal peacebuilding 379; on leadership collaboration 442 LGBTQ+ 189–99, 495–6 liberal democracy 60, 74, 111 liberal internationalism 315, 317, 320 liberal peacebuilding: critique of 133–4; and human rights 409–10; idea of 134; and local agency/ownership 134–7; and long-term commitment 322; metanarratives 380; top-down 138

508

Index liberation theology, Jesuit 216 listening projects 70 literacy 362; gender bias 147; youth training program 96–108 litigation 88–9 local, the: and the international 5; see also grassroots organizations local actors/ownership 57–67, 74, 452–3; hybridity 135–6; and liberal peacebuilding 134–7; Southeast Asia 120–30; see also activism; agency local capacity 466 local knowledge 58, 190–1, 454; see also Indigenous people local needs/aspirations 320 local peacebuilding 321–2, 323 long-term commitment 322, 323 Lyotard, Jean-François 373, 374, 379

and humanitarianism 293–4; Mexico 180–8; securitization of 293–6; “warehousing” 295; see also refugees militarism 321, 363, 387 military, the: and the CA 339–41; see also CMI militias 28, 39–40, 83 Millennium Declaration 317, 318 Millennium Development Goals 317 minority groups: state suppression 30, 416; see also ethnic identity Mitchell, Christopher 263, 265 Mohawks 227–34 Mollica, Richard 50–1, 52–3 Montessori, Maria 362 Mother’s Day march, Mexico 182–6 multi-stakeholders, and security strategies 489 music, in local peacebuilding 138 Muslims 38, 239, 240, 406 Myanmar 33, 329, 444

Mac Ginty, R. 61, 64, 135 mainstreaming 195 Mandela, Nelson 30, 41, 91, 441 Manitoba, Canada 53, 170–5 marginalized people 47, 180, 231, 407, 410–11, 498; see also African Americans; Indigenous people marriage 147, 229 masculinity 50, 152–3, 229; see also gender; patriarchy Matenge, Mavis 51 maternal health 157, 158, 160–1, 162 Matsuura, Koïchiro 302 mediation, mediators 30, 297, 459–61; community 70–1, 438; environmental conflict 113–15; family/divorce 69; identity politics and bias in 115–18; Quaker 71; theory/practice and culture 40, 41, 42–3, 88, 114–15; see also diplomacy memory: critical 380; see also trauma mental health 149–50; see also trauma mentors, mentorship: peace education 96–108; women as 173, 174–5 mercenaries 404 Merkel, Angela 292, 443 metanarratives 373–82 Metcalfe’s Law 394, 397–9, 400 Mexico: Border Justice Movement (BJM) 49, 203–13; forced disappearance in 182–6; migrant crisis in 180–8; militarization and deportation policies 182 micro learning environments 308–9 micro-financing 124 micro-narratives 379 Middle East 38, 39, 111, 315, 319, 443, 482; see also Israel/Palestine migrants, migration: and conflict 110–11; dehumanization of 182; feminism on 180;

narratives: Indigenous 351–5; metanarratives 373–81; national, schools and 94; nationalist 362; plurality and ethics 383–5; see also storytelling national groups, rights of 31 National Peace Accord (NPA), South Africa 41–2 national security 182, 476; and human rights 406–7; superpowers 484–5 nationalism 416; Cambodian 128; challenging 361, 362; Irish 385, 389; and security 485–6 nation-states 60, 414–16; and human rights 408–9; loss of dominance 338; see also state(s) natural resources: exploitation/extraction, Canada 237–8, 355; management, transboundary 110–11 nature activities 138 negative peace 316, 363 negotiation 87–8, 112 neo-colonialism 133–4 Netherlands, study on trafficking 147 Neu, Joyce 42–3 New Deal 452–3, 455 Nicaragua, witnessing suffering 218 Nigeria 48, 242, 499 non-governmental organizations (NGOs) 38, 40, 318, 344, 453, 465, 483; accompaniment 72–3; best practice 410; Cambodia 125–6; Columbia 330, 332; and human rights 405, 408–9; leadership change 120–1; on peace and conflict studies 36; and policy development 190–1; South Africa and 41; and the UCCHS 241–2 non-profit organizations, and peaceology 286, 288 non-state actors 323 nonviolent action 37, 48, 72–3, 127, 136, 438–40 norms 350, 451–2, 484 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) 317, 341 North Korea, and the US 32

509

Index Northern Ireland 27, 28, 380, 443; activism and advocacy, role of 32–3; Belfast Agreement, 1998 30, 374, 377, 392, 496; Brexit and 445; creation of 385, 388; LGBTQ+ rights in 194–5; metanarratives 377–8, 380; sectarianism and the common good 390–1; storytelling 50 Northern Triangle of Central America (NCTA), migrants 180–1 Nsia-Pepra, Kofi 470, 473 nuclear crises, control, and the UN 393–402 nuclear weapons, Iran and 39 Obama, Barack 29, 39 Observer Effect 73 OECD, on state fragility/conflict 451, 455 open inclusive public dialogue 418–22 oppression 309; see also social justice oral narratives see narratives; storytelling organized crime 294; and Mexican society 183; see also human trafficking; sex trafficking outcomes 217, 219 ownership transfer, external aiders’ 122–4 PACS 485, 500; critiques 5; history 4–5; practice 39–42; and systemic racism, US 432–7, 497; theory 35–7; transdisciplinary nature of 493 Palestine Commission 83 Palestinian–Israeli relations see Israel/Palestine paradigm shifts 117, 280, 378, 471 paramilitary groups 193 Paris, Roland 133, 134 Parnell, Charles Stewart 389 paternalism 120, 121, 210 patriarchy 174, 386–7; and democracy/peace 153–4; indigenous authorities 135; in local contexts 169; and VAW 157–8 peace: defining 59–62, 168; positive/negative 121, 168, 316, 323, 493; profitability of 286, 288 peace agreements 28, 41–2, 84–7, 121, 137, 167, 331; see also Belfast Agreement, 1998 peace education 93–109, 359–70, 500; CPE 364–5; evaluation 95–6; history and critiques 360–1, 363; innovations 364; YPE 366–9 peace operations 464–5 peace research 46–7 peacebuilding: as core educational outcome 310; defining 59–62, 168, 307, 308; emergence of 316–18; indigenous 135; and peacekeeping 465; strategic 60–1; the UN and 444; see also Indigenous people; Racialized Peacebuilding (RP) peacekeeping: defining 307; traditional 471 peacemaking 307, 444 pedagogies of engagement 222, 223 pedagogy, cultural diversity-based 305–6, 308 personal peacekeeping, YPE 366–9 Philippines, peacebuilders 48–9

plurality 379, 384–5, 391 police 41, 283; and transitional public security 338–9; US, violence/racism against blacks 427, 429, 430; see also securitization policy frameworks, and youth peacebuilding 329–30 policymaking, and nuclear crises 393–402 political competency 337 political consciousness 180 political economy scholarship 454 political elites see elites, elitism populism 485–6 pornography: addiction 149–50; androcentric or misogynistic 150–1; and feminism 150–1; and the internet 148–9; and sex trafficking 148–9; as sexual education 153; and sexual violence 150 Portugal 31, 297–8 positive peace 121, 168, 323, 493 postcolonialism, and local peacebuilding 57–8, 62 post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) 226–7, 228–9 poverty 147, 293, 298 power relations 47, 274; asymmetric 32, 83, 131, 137, 236; coercive/voluntary 320 PRAA 419, 421 practice 35–6 precarity 179–85 preventative deployment 444 prison systems, US, AVP programs 71 privatization 317, 404, 487–8 problemsolving 320; collective/workshops 73–4, 115, 259, 262–4; dialogue processes 117; systemic approach 112 processes/techniques 217 projection 247–8 prostitution 146, 151–2; see also violence against women (VAW) Public Conversations Project (PCP) 262 public dialogue 418–22 Quakers 69, 71 queer theory 192; see also LGBTQ+ Racialized Peacebuilding (RP) 204–13 racism 30, 497; systemic, US 427–37; see also Racialized Peacebuilding (RP) rape 146, 156 Reading Peace Pal Program 97–8, 100–8 Reardon, Betty 362–3 recidivism 286 “reciprocated political accommodations” (RPAs) 87 reconciliation 90, 226, 420–2; TRCs 440–2 reflexivity 51–2, 219, 220–1, 245–55 refugees 319, 406, 444, 498; camps, and trafficking 147; European responses to (2015-) 291–300; Israeli–Palestinian conflicts 32; and post-World

510

Index War II humanitarianism 293–4; and storytelling 48, 51, 53; see also displacement regional organizations (ROs) 444–6, 459, 464 Reimer, Laura 50 relational accountability 50 relational caring 222 religion 235–44, 496–7; international norms and mechanisms 240–2; Ireland 387–8 religious/traditional peacebuilding, Cambodia 126–8 residential schools, Indian 226, 228, 231–2, 233, 441–2 resilience 353–4, 451 resistance 61–3, 179–80, 182–6, 296; see also activism Responsibility to Protect (R2P) 81, 455, 456, 472, 474 restorative justice (RJ), and the criminal justice system 71–2 restorative practice 90 Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia see FARC Rice, Herbert J. 226–30, 233–4 Rice, Peter T. 226, 228, 232, 233 Richards, D. A. J. 152–4 Richmond, Oliver P. 59, 134 robust peacekeeping 470–80 Rolling Stone magazine 146 Rorty, Richard 379–80 rurality: deficit construct of 170; and gender 169–70 Russia 319 Rwanda 31, 378, 444, 475, 476 sacred sites 235–44 sanctions 461–2 Santos, Juan Manuel 40, 331 Saudi Arabia 319 Schirch, L. 60–1, 327 scholarship of engagement 96–108 schools see education; peace education science, politicization of 116–18 sectarianism, Ireland/N. Ireland 388, 390 securitization 293–6, 318 security 316, 342, 350, 408–9, 410, 451; collective 320, 484; and human rights 405–7, 411; regionalization 485–6; see also global security; securitization security sector: private 404, 487–8; reform 138, 451 self-determination 69 sex trafficking 145–55; of children 146–8; defined 148; demographics of 146; Kenya 49; low risk and profitability 147 sexual minorities see LGBTQ+ sexual violence 146, 150, 181, 232; see also violence against women (VAW)

Sharon, Ariel 90 Sharp, Gene 439–40 Sinn Fein (SF) 27, 28, 385, 388 Six-Day War, 1967 240 slavery: legacy of 430; see also sex trafficking Slovenia, and Austria 420 social action 96, 108; see also activism social change 96–8; and collectives 269–77 social identity 352–3; and social change 269–77; and status/outgroup stereotypes 274–5 social isolation 297 social justice 51; and empowerment 68–9; for Indigenous people 53, 440–1; and liberal peacebuilding 74, 131–41; as positive peace 493; and RJ 71–2 social media, and sex trafficking 147–8 social movements: Border Justice Movement (BJM) 203–13; nonviolent action 136; South Africa and 41; see also disability, disability rights; LGBTQ+ social relations 417 social spaces, and peacebuilding 58–9 soil erosion 111 solidarity 216, 223, 379–80 Somalia 474 South Africa 274; activism and advocacy, role of 32–3; anti-apartheid movement and TRC 440–1; conflict transformation 30, 40–2, 90, 91; LGBTQ+ and disability rights 195–6; women’s health 162 South America, TRCs 440 South Asia, UN peacekeeping 476 South China Sea 112 South Sudan 449, 486 Southeast Asia 120–30, 148 Soviet Union (former), and sex trafficking 148 spiritual behaviors, youth training program 104 Spivak, Gayatri 57, 64 sports 138 Sri Lanka 31, 452 stability/stabilization 318, 337; see also Civil Affairs (CA) organizations; CMI; global security statebuilding 410–11, 450–5; see also stability/ stabilization state(s): capacity 451–2, 454; fragility 449–58, 487–9; legitimacy/authority 451–2, 453, 454; sovereignty 471, 484; see also nation-states status, and social identity 274–5 stereotypes and generalizations 112 Stobbe, Stephanie Phetsamay 48 Stockholm Declaration 452–3, 455 storytelling 45–56; see also narratives strategic peacebuilding 60–1 structural discrimination 430 structural inequalities 136, 274 structural violence 60, 131, 145, 152, 350, 354–5 structure 82–92, 196–7

511

Index subaltern, the 57, 64 Sudan 29 suffering, human 462; see also witnessing suffering suffragists, Irish 386–7 Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) 157, 163, 323, 450 Syracuse Area Middle East Dialogue (SAMED) 261 Syria 29; civil war 158–9, 319, 403, 444; and VAW 158–9 systemic racism, US, institutional responses 430–3 Taliban 147, 329 tax systems, state fragility 454 Teagle Foundation 215 temporary autonomous zones (TAZs) 59, 63 terrorism 236, 393, 395, 405; and securitization 295, 486; see also 9/11 Thailand 147 theory 35–7 Tibet 31, 32 tokenism 207–8 tourism, community-based 124 Track II diplomacy 73–4 training, multiplex mediators 400–1 transdisciplinary analysis 57, 61 transformative learning 217 transitional justice 411 transparency 89 trauma 159, 500; PTSD 226–7, 228–9; stories/ narratives 50–4, 352–4, 384, 441 Treaty of Lisbon, 2007 445 Treaty of Westphalia, 1648 484 Triple C Paradigm 280, 283, 287, 289 Triple P Paradigm 280, 287–9 troops, resourcing of 477 Trump, Donald 29, 281, 405, 476, 497; “America First” 319; and foreign relations/policy 38 Truth and Reconciliation Commissions (TRCs) 226, 440 Tunisia, Arab Spring 28–9 Turkey: and refugees/migrants 292, 294–5, 319; see also Cyprus Tursunova, Zulfiya 49 Uganda 160, 196 UNESCO: Action Plan 302, 305; Universal Declaration (UD) on Cultural Diversity 301–2, 306, 308 UNHCR: Agenda for Protection 297; Global Trends Report 444; Peace Education Program 297 UNICEF 332 Unionism, Ireland/N. Ireland 377, 383, 385, 389 United Nations (UN): #YouthStats report 328; Charter 444; Convention of Transnational Organized Crime 294; Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (CRPD)

191; DPKO 472, 474–5, 477; General Assembly 476; ideal of collective security 481, 484–5; International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights 160; and Israel/ Palestine 464; mandate–resource discrepancy 474; Palestine Conciliation Commission 83; Peacebuilding Commission 318, 320; peacebuilding/peacemaking 81, 444; and peacekeepers’ crimes 475, 477; protocol on human trafficking 146, 148; Secretary Generals (UNSGs) 393–402; Security Council 320, 322, 444, 472, 474–5, 476, 485; “sustaining peace” 322; top-down structure 475; traditional peacekeeping 471; UNGA, 2000 472; Universal Declaration of Human Rights 160, 302, 406–8; UNSCR resolutions 330, 495; on US’ systemic racism 430–1; see also UNESCO; UNHCR United States (US): Chicago 280–9; Congress 431–2; government, counter-insurgency guide 342; and human rights 405, 439; Indigenous experiences in 227–8, 229, 236; Institute of Peace (USIP) 431–2; isolationism 450; leadership and the UN 478; meritocracy myth 205; Mexico and 49; Middle East and 29, 37–8, 39, 83; migration, national security discourses about 182; militarization and deportation policies 182; North Korea and 32; peacebuilding 30; prisons, AVP in 71; sacred sites 236, 237; sex trafficking 147–8; systemic racism 427–37; terrorism in 405; and the UN 474, 475, 476; US-Mexico border 203–13; Vietnam war 48; see also 9/11; Americas Unity-of-Aim 339, 341–3, 346 Universal Code of Conduct on Holy Sites (UCCHS) 241–2 Uribe, Álvaro 39–40 Uzbekistan 49, 405 values: Asian values debate 404; see also reflexivity van der Merwe, Hendrik 41 Venezuela 40 Victims and Land Restitution Law (Columbia) 40 Vietnam 48, 128 violence: Chicago, US 280–9; cultural 354; direct 145–6; homophobic and transphobic 193; and patriarchy 386; privatization of 317; see also structural violence violence against women (VAW) 156–66, 363; see also sex trafficking violence prevention education 94–5 voluntary civil society 137, 171–2; see also community voluntary governance regimes 410 vulnerability: feminism on 178–80; and human rights 409–10; as resistance/protest 179–80, 182–6

512

Index war: as a permanent condition 338; privatization of 404 war on terror 30, 38, 315, 318, 481 Wentworth Area Neighborhood Study (WANS) 281 West Africa 328 Western knowledge, de-centering 49 Western peacebuilding see liberal peacebuilding white credibility 210–11 white privilege, in RP 208–9 white supremacy 203, 204–7, 432–3 Whole-of-Government (WoG) tactics 343 Whole-of-Society (WoS) 343 Wholistic Development Organization (WDO) 123 Wilson, Shawn 46–7, 50 Winnipeg, Canada 50, 53 witnessing suffering 216–17, 223 women/girls: community peacebuilding 167–77; empowerment of 164; health and health care 158, 159–61; Irish 386–7; and peacebuilding 163, 164; roles and role models 171–3; traits of 171, 174; VAW 156–66; and workplace

discrimination 54, 158; see also feminism; gender; sex trafficking World Bank 147, 465 World War I: Indigenous soldiers 226; post-war peacebuilding 60 World War II: Indigenous soldiers 226–7; post-war peacebuilding 60; post-war reconstruction 339 xenophobia 38, 319, 497 Xhosa (ethnic group) 41 Yemen 28, 319 Yogic Peace Education (YPE) 366–9 young people see children; youth Yousafzai, Malala 329 youth 326–36; Columbian 330–5; in conflict 327–8; in global peacekeeping 329–30; and peace education 93–109; Youth Forum (AYF) 329–30; see also children Zones of Peace (ZoP) 74 Zulu (ethnic group) 41

513