The United Nations and Civil Wars 9781685855970

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The United Nations and Civil Wars

Emerging Global Issues Thomas G. Weiss, Series Editor

Published in association with the Thomas J. Watson Jr. Institute for International Studies, Brown University

The United Nations and Civil Wars

----·---edited by

Thomas G. Weiss

RIENNER PUBLISHERS BOULDER LONDON

Published in the United States of America by Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. 1800 30th Street, Boulder, Colorado 80301 www.rienner.com and in the United Kingdom by Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. 3 Henrietta Street, Covent Garden, London WC2E 8LU © 1995 by Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved ISBN 978-1-55587-527-5 (hc : alk. paper) Printed and bound in the United States of America The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials Z39.48-1992.

Contents vii ix

List of Illustrations Preface 1 Introduction Thomas G. Weiss

1

•

Part 1 Insecurity, Instability, and Intrastate Wars

2

The New-Old Disorder in the Third World Mohammed Ayoob

13

Armed Conflict in Eastern Europe and the Former Soviet Union Stephen D. Shenfield

31

3

•

Part 2 The New Operational Landscape of Civil War

4

Military Responses to Complex Emergencies John Mackinlay

51

UN Civil Governance-in-Trust Jarat Chopra

69

The Evolving Humanitarian Enterprise Larry Minear

89

5

6

v

vi

•

CONTENTS

Part 3 Recent UN Operations in Internal Armed Conflicts

7 The United Nations' Predicament in the Former Yugoslavia Age Eknes

109

8 Transitional Authority in Cambodia Michael W. Doyle and Ayaka Suzuki

127

9 The Paradox of Humanitarian Assistance and Military Intervention in Somalia Debarati G. Sapir and Hedwig Deconinck

151

10 Regional Leadership and Universal Implementation in E1 Salvador's Quest for Peace Cristina Eguiztibal

173

•

Part 4 A Look Toward the Future

11 The United Nations and Civil Wars at the Dawn of the Twenty-First Century Thomas G. Weiss List ofAcronyms About the Authors Index About the Book and the Editor Books in the Series

193 217 221

225 233 235

Illustrations Tables 1.1 UN Peacekeeping and Security Operations, 1948-1994, Distinguishing Multifunctional Operations 3.1 Human Costs of Conflicts in the Former Soviet Union 3.2 Types of Civil Conflict in the Second World

2 33 42

Figures 4.1 8.1 9.1 9.2 9.3 9.4 9.5 9.6 9.7 9.8

UN Multifunctional Forces and Their Command Elements UNTAC Civil Administrative Subcomponents Time Evolution of Significant Events in Somalia Crises, 1991-1993 Child Mortality Rates in Somalia Excess Mortality Among Children Under Five Years of Age in Somalia, 1989-1993 Excess Mortality Among Children Under Five Years of Age in Somalia, 199~1993 Total Monthly Shipments of WFP Food Aid Unloaded at Mogadishu Port Monthly Grain Prices in Somali Markets in Somali Shillings Proportional Distribution of Cereal and Noncereal Food Aid to Somalia by WFP Values of Arms Deliveries to Somalia

vii

63 134 155 159 159 160 161 161 162 165

viii

ILLUSTRATIONS

Maps

7.1 8.1 9.1 10.1

The Former Yugoslavia Cambodia Horn of Africa Central American Region National Boundaries and Capital Cities

110 128 152 174

Preface

Widespread and endemic violence has presented the international community with formidable challenges. Euphoria initially followed the waning of EastWest tensions in the mid-1980s, but this has given way to the more realistic and depressing assessment that ethnonationalism will probably result in more bloodshed. This book is the latest in the "Emerging Global Issues" series sponsored by Brown University's Thomas J. Watson Jr. Institute for International Studies and published by Lynne Rienner Publishers. Each book is an interdisciplinary attempt to get an analytical handle on the debris of the post-Cold War era. Third World Security in the Post-Cold War Era (edited by Thomas G. Weiss and Meryl A. Kessler), published in 1991, represented a macro effort to examine precisely how the end of the Cold War had affected the security predicament of the Third World. This was followed in 1992 by detailed case studies of two prominent Third World regions in The Suffering Grass: Superpowers and Regional Conflict in Southern Africa and the Caribbean (edited by Thomas G. Weiss and James G. Blight). When the chapters for these first two volumes were written, some specialists still thought the Soviet Union was a major player on the world stage, but. Moscow has disappeared as one of the superpowers-in fact, its periphery witnessed armed conflicts that seemed remarkably akin to those in the South. At the same time, the United Nations emerged as an essential force in the management of regional conflicts. In 1993, Collective Security in a Changing World (edited by Thomas G. Weiss) focused on the theoretical, legal, and practical efforts by the world organization to play the preeminent role-as the main orchestrator or often as the actual vehicle-in fostering international peace and security. Bullishness about the United Nations, in light of its role in the Gulf War, motivated this inquiry as well as another 1993 volume, Humanitarianism Across Borders: Sustaining Civilians in Times of War (edited by Thomas G. Weiss and Larry Minear), which examined the emerging possibilities for humanitarian assistance and protection in areas of seemingly endless violence and warfare.

ix

X

PREFACE

As with these preceding books, this one is interdisciplinary and combines the thoughtful views of both scholars and practitioners who are in a position to scrutinize the actual performance of UN attempts to attenuate the suffering caused by civil wars. As with the preceding books, this one is designed to span audiences-be they policy- or opinion-makers, academics, or officials from governmental, nongovernmental, or intergovernmental organizations-that wish to explore critical issues facing the international community. The authors of individual chapters and I profited immensely from reflections and comments by a small number of discussants who gathered in Providence in May 1994 to comment on initial drafts. We would like to acknowledge them here: Antonio Donini, Ali Khalif Galaydh, Dennis Gallagher, Marion Kappeyne van de Coppello, Clovis Maksoud, Clark Murdock, A. Richard Norton, Lamin Sise, John Stremlau, Torunn L. Tryggestad, and Bruno Zimmermann. I would also like to thank Shepard Forman and Geoffrey Wiseman of the Ford Foundation for their encouragement of work at theW atson Institute and for the bulk of the funds used to sponsor this book. As always, I am indebted to the staff members at theW atson Institute whose support made possible the production of this book: Susan Costa, Fred Fullerton, Amy Langlais, Jean Lawlor, Mary Lhowe, and Jennifer Patrick.

T.G.W.

The United Nations and Civil Wars

• 1 • Introduction THOMAS G. WEISS

The end of the Cold War has led to a dramatically increased demand for UN action. Daily, the sobering news of wars in the former Yugoslavia, Somalia, Haiti, Rwanda, and a host of other countries assaults a common sense of humanity. Whereas much of the 1980s were devoted to bashing the United Nations for politicization and incompetence, even the United States now routinely looks to the world organization for elements of an appropriate response to these crises. Recent UN operations have typically been larger and more dangerous than previous undertakings. The monumental scale of operations alone is quite striking-in 1992-1993 there were over 20,000 peacekeepers in both Cambodia and the former Yugoslavia and 30,000 in Somalia. Moreover, these operations now occur routinely in internal conflicts, which is not what the UN's founders imagined; nor are these situations ones in which previous UN involvement has been the most successful. Perhaps most important, and this is the rationale behind this book, the United Nations increasingly deploys "multifunctional" operations that combine military, civil administration (including election and human rights monitoring and police support), and humanitarian expertise with political negotiations and mediation. Table l.llists all UN operations since 1948. Before the end of the Cold War, only two of thirteen missions could be categorized as having a significant multifunctional character; eleven of nineteen since 1988, however, can be so characterized. Gone are the days when the United Nations was described only as a "hot air forum" or a "resolution mill." The United Nations finds itself increasingly preoccupied by efforts in the field, with ongoing operations covering the gamut from the traditional peacekeeping of Chapter VI and a half to the more rigorous enforcement of Chapter VII and virtually everything in between. At the same time, even the most casual reader or viewer will no doubt be familiar with the UN' s overextension, which even UN Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali readily admits. With the United Nations and its member states increasingly bogged down in dealing with civil wars, there are pressures in Washington and other Western capitals to avoid engagements around the world. This book is an attempt to

2

THOMAS G. WEISS

understand the operational and policy landscape circumscribing the UN' s efforts to mitigate the human suffering resulting from civil wars at the dawn of the twenty-first century. The overall objectives are to distinguish what seems to succeed from what seems to fail and to draw lessons from these most recent UN efforts to foster international peace and security in a dramatically altered international environment. Before I introduce the contents of individual chapters, it is useful to outline the logic behind the three-part division of this book. Part 1-"Insecurity, Instability, and Intrastate Wars"~xarnines the nature of ethnic particularism, micronationalism, and failed states in the Third World and the former Second World (the ex-Soviet bloc). Part 1 provides a conceptual overview of the two areas in which violent upheaval is most prevalent and growing, and it situates UN efforts to pick up the debris left following civil wars.

Table 1.1

UN Peacekeeping and Security Operations, 1948-1994, Distinguishing Multifunctional Operations

1948-

UNTSO United Nations Truce Supervision Organisation [Egypt, Israel, Jordan, Lebanon, and Syria]

1949-

UNMOGIP United Nations Military Observer Group in India and Pakistan

1956-1967 UNEF I United Nations Emergency Force [Egypt and Israel] 1958

UNOGIL United Nations Observation Group in Lebanon

1960-1964 ONUC* United Nations Operation in the Congo 1962-1963 UNTEAIUNSF* United Nations Temporary Executive Authority United Nations Security Force [West New Guinea (West Irian)] 1963-1964 UNYOM United Nations Yemen Observation Mission 1964-

UNFICYP United Nations Peacekeeping Force in Cyprus

1965-1966 DOMREP Representative of the Secretary-General in the Dominican Republic

INTRODUCTION

Table 1.1

3

(continued)

1965-1966 UNIPOM United Nations India-Pakistan Observer Mission 1973-1979 UNEF ll United Nations Emergency Force [Egypt and Israel] 1974-

UNDOF United Nations Disengagement Observer Force [Syrian Golan Heights]

1978-

UNIFIL United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon

1988-1991 UNIIMOG United Nations Iran-Iraq Military Observer Group 1988-1990 UNGOMAP/OSGAP United Nations Good Offices in Afghanistan and Pakistan Office of the Secretary-General in Afghanistan and Pakistan 1989-1990 UNTAG* United Nations Transition Assistance Group [Namibia] 1989-1991 ONUCA United Nations Observer Group in Central America 1989-1990 ONUVEN* United Nations Observation Mission for the Verification of Elections in Nicaragua 1989-1992 UNAVEMI United Nations Angola Verification Mission 199{}-1991 ONUVEH* United Nations Observer Group for the Verification of Elections in Haiti 1991-

UNIKOM United Nations Iraq-Kuwait Observation Mission

1991-

ONUSAL* United Nations Observer Mission in El Salvador

1991-

MINURSO* United Nations Mission for the Referendum in Western Sahara

1992-

UNAVEMll* United Nations Angola Verification Mission

4

THOMAS G. WEISS

Table 1.1

(continued)

1992-

UNTAC* United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia

1992-

UNPROFOR* United Nations Protection Force [Croatia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Macedonia]

1992-1993 UNOSOM I United Nations Operation in Somalia 1992-

ONUMOZ* United Nations Operation in Mozambique

1993-

UNOSOMD* United Nations Operation in Somalia

1993-

UNAMIR* United Nations Assistance Mission in Rwanda Subsumed UNOMUR, United Nations Observer Mission in Uganda/ Rwanda

1993-

UNOMIG United Nations Observer Mission in Georgia

1993-

UNO MIL United Nations Observer Mission in Liberia

*Denotes a significant multifunctional character.

Part 2 examines ''The N~w Operational Landscape of Civil War." Recent UN operations are distinguished by their comprehensive nature. Increasingly, the world organization is called upon to employ three kinds of expertise in multifunctional or multifaceted--or perhaps more clearly, "messy"--operations. Three separate chapters analyze the distinct operational issues facing personnel from the military, civil administration (including election and human rights monitoring and police support), and humanitarian components of multifunctional operations. After we unpack this new generation of complex operations, Part 3 details how the multifunctional elements have come together in four "Recent UN Operations in Internal Armed Conflicts." Country specialists with a solid grounding in all dimensions of UN affairs examine concrete cases of multifunctional efforts in the former Yugoslavia, Cambodia, Somalia, and El Salvador. The cases do not follow a common analytical template. Each is different; the

INTRODUCTION

5

authors have not all witnessed the same mixture of military, civil administration, and humanitarian elements. Each case illustrates a specific type of novel UN undertaking that emphasizes a particular aspect of operations: the military in the former Yugoslavia, the humanitarian in Somalia, civil administration in Cambodia, and the regional political dimension in El Salvador. However, all of the cases involve a significant, multifaceted UN presence; whatever the emphases, it is the mixture of inputs that contains the most significant lessons for the future. In Chapter 2, Mohammed Ayoob of James Madison College at Michigan State University begins with "The New-Old Disorder in the Third World." He argues that there is, in fact, "a remarkable degree of continuity from the earlier epoch of bipolarity" in explaining violence in developing countries. Whereas some analysts have called into question the legitimacy of the concept of the "Third World," Ayoob sees the category as a sensible way to group together a "weak intruder majority" of countries that lack power in their position at the bottom of the international hierarchy. The removal of the Cold War overlay has, however, exposed more clearly the problems of countries that are at a very early stage of state making. Pointing out that between 1500 and 1900 Europe went through a very violent period of consolidation from 500 to 25 states, Ayoob does not see how the Third World can avoid a period of adjustment. With borders no longer sacrosanct and secession an option, the two most important norms of the postwar era have been set aside. One of the central problems is for the international community to avoid legitimizing ethnonationalism, or we are likely to again have 500 states. In Chapter 3, Stephen D. Shenfield of the Center for Foreign Policy Development at Brown University's Watson Institute extends the coverage of civil wars to "Armed Conflict in Eastern Europe and the Former Soviet Union." Whereas Ayoob emphasizes the continuities between the Cold War period and the present era in explaining civil wars in the Third World, Shenfield stresses discontinuities in the former Soviet bloc. "Only the weakening, fragmentation, and gradual dissolution of the totalitarian structures from the late 1980s onward have created space for the open political expression of all of these preexisting tensions, as well as generating new tensions associated with the processes of transformation themselves." As with Ayoob regarding the Third World, however, Shenfield sees heuristic value in examining what used to be called the "Second World" of the Soviet Union and its clients in Eastern Europe. He explores the different types of conflict (ethno-state, regional-state, neo-imperial, political, interclan, and micro-ethnic) and some of the explanations behind the peaceful dissolution of Czechoslovakia and the considerably more violent clashes elsewhere. A central reason to look at the former Second World as a category is the presence ofRussia, a former superpower possessing both the resources and the inclination to play a role in conflict management in civil wars on its periphery, or "near abroad" in the present Russian lexicon, that the United Nations clearly does not. In Chapter 4, John Mackinlay-until recently the director of the Watson

6

THOMAS

G. WEISS

Institute's project on Second Generation Multinational Operations at Brown University and now at the Marshall Centre in Garrnisch, Germany--dissects various components of multifaceted operations in "Military Responses to Complex Emergencies." Based on his previous career as a professional soldier, Mack.inlay focuses on the nature of UN security operations during the Cold War, for which the military components were more symbolic than real, and that of what he calls the "second generation," for which military elements are far more decisive. Mack.inlay cautions against the widespread tendency to extrapolate lessons from the successful experiences of the past to most present situations, particularly those in civil wars where there is no consent of the warring parties and in which the professional application of military force is required. This tendency to extrapolate is fairly pronounced among both members of the UN secretariat and the partisans of traditional peacekeeping. One of the many controversial subjects touched upon is the difference between the U.S. military and many European armies-that is, between a doctrine of overwhelming force versus a more nuanced application of police-like actions over the longer term. In Chapter 5, Jarat Chopra of Brown University's Watson Institute examines the second element of complex operations in "UN Civil Governance-inTrust." He analyzes the reality of the UN's recent operations in the field, which stands in considerable contrast to the widespread public image of the blue helmets and multicolored uniforms of a largely military presence. Chopra points to the many administrative tasks in recent multifunctional operations: to "organize elections; protect human rights; arrest, detain, prosecute, and punish criminals; control governmental ministries or administer conflict areas in their absence; and transfer power from one authority to another." Chopra analyzes in detail the historical development of international administration by intergovernmental organizations as a phenomenon of the twentieth century. In particular, the end of the Cold War "marks a shift from an era of defining UN tasks to an opportunity to implement those tasks." He asks whether the growing phenomenon of failed states does not suggest a growing role for the United Nations in attempting to overcome the legacy of civil wars through adaptation of the trusteeship system. Here, as elsewhere, however, the author notes that the UN' s professionalism and resource base have not kept pace with increased demand. In Chapter 6, Larry Minear, the codirector of the Humanitarianism and War Project at Brown University's Watson Institute, completes the dissection ofthe elements of recent operations in "The Evolving Humanitarian Enterprise." He begins by clarifying the type of civil war situation upon which he focuses, namely those recent cases in which a large military component constricts humanitarian action. One of his main analytical devices is to contrast the missions and cultures of "secouristes" (that is, personnel with humanitarian and civil governance mandates) with those of "securists" (that is, military and

INTRODUCTION

•

7

political personnel) in attempting to understand the present international responses to complex emergencies. Minear points out that earlier, the international community handled starvation (for example, in Biafra or Ethiopia) in other ways. Whereas formerly the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) essentially had a monopoly when the bullets were flying, there are presently many actors in war zones. This situation has increased dramatically the accompanying problems of physical protection for aid personnel and also of professionalism within the global humanitarian community. Minear discusses the uncomfortable realization that well-intentioned humanitarianism can serve as an alibi to avoid more meaningful political and military engagement. After analyzing the host of operational difficulties facing humanitarian action within the context of UN military actions in civil wars, he sees the international community as being "at a fork in the road," with basically three options for resolving the tensions between humanitarian versus politicalmilitary objectives: integration, insulation, and separation. He concludes with a discussion of a possible structural change that cuts across these options-the creation of a special humanitarian cadre within the UN' s peacekeeping department. In Chapter 7, Age Eknes of the Norwegian Institute of International Affairs begins the series of case studies with "The UN's Predicament in the Former Yugoslavia." Focusing on the UN's military efforts, he examines the three separate components of the United Nations Protection Force (UNPROFOR) in the former Yugoslavia: the four sectors of the UN Protected Areas, based in Zagreb; the Bosnia-Herzegovinacommand, basedinKiseljak; and the Macedonia command, based in Skopje. In analyzing the activities of each, he demonstrates the inadequacy of the application of traditional peacekeeping to contexts that are anything but traditional, judging that "the only potentially successful peacekeeping experiment" is the preventive one in Macedonia. Eknes sees that the performance by both soldiers and humanitarians in this civil war has been sorely lacking because of the "newness of the situation" for both groups. He concludes by suggesting the need for more consistency and credibility and less improvisation by diplomats, soldiers, and humanitarians in multifunctional operations: "Many of the political initiatives taken by the United Nations or its members have been inconsistent, ill prepared, or meant to refocus embarrassing international public attention rather than to solve problems on the ground." In Chapter 8, Michael W. Doyle of Princeton University and Ayaka Suzuki of Columbia University present "Transitional Authority in Cambodia." The authors examine the complexity of the conflict and of the UN' s efforts to end the decade-long civil war among Khmers. The United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia (UNTAC) succeeded through an electoral process to "empower the people, with whom for the first time Cambodia's hopes rest." Yet Doyle and Ayaka are quite aware of the faults of this multidimensional operation. They

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THOMAS G. WEISS

fear that "the euphoria flowing from the successful election may encourage us to dismiss all of UNTAC's problems"-a particularly relevant conclusion in light of the growing instability in Cambodia, where the royal government has declared the Khmer Rouge illegal in spite of the fact that the group controls more territory now than it did before the Paris Accords. Underlining one of the central themes of this book, "the ambiguous character of what we mean by success and failure," Doyle and Ayaka detail failures in civil administrative control and cantonment-the waste as well as the clear successes of elections: improving regional normalization, creating political space for civil society, and beginning rehabilitation. They conclude, however, that the $2 billion spent on this effort was a sound investment by the United Nations, particularly because "in the troublesome cases of Somalia and Bosnia, more resources have produced far fewer results." In Chapter 9, Debarati G. Sapir and Hedwig Deconinck of the Catholic University ofLouvain, Belgium, analyze "The Paradox of Humanitarian Assistance and Military Intervention in Somalia." Here the focus is unabashedly humanitarian, with an evaluation of both UN-blessed and UN-controlled military inputs in terms of their contribution to improving the conditions of civilians trapped in this grisly civil war. "Given the time and considerable resources invested," the authors ask, "could the world have done better?" Through an in-depth analysis of micro- and macro-level health and nutrition statistics, Sapir andDeconinck argue thatthe military--during both the U.S.-led phase from December 1992 until May 1993, as well as during the more controversial UN OS OM IT afterward-made a difference in improving delivery and lowering death rates but that the international community responded with an inappropriate military presence. Arguing that there was a military "deluge" rather than a more appropriate "drizzle," the authors clearly believe that less would have been more and particularly that the 10:1 ratio of military to humanitarian expenditures should have been different. In their view, the international community could have done a better job in dealing with the security and humanitarian challenges of Somalia. Sapir and Deconinck point in particular to the demonstrated need for better training of both military and humanitarian personnel and for enhanced adaptation to the local sociocultural environment, with better utilization of local resources. In Chapter 10, Cristina Eguizabal of the University of Costa Rica completes the case studies with "Regional Leadership and Universal Implementation in El Salvador's Quest for Peace." She stresses the crucial contribution of local and regional political consensus to the success of the peace process in both Nicaragua (before the end of the Cold War) and, more important, in El Salvador (after the Cold War's completion). One of the important dimensions of this chapter is the discussion of the respective contributions of regional and universal institutions as well as the impact of nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) on the international community's truly multifaceted approach to ending civil wars. Focusing on El

INTRODUCTION

9

Salvador, Eguizabal notes the wide range of technical services-military, police, human rights, humanitarian, electoral monitoring-that made the United Nations the principal purveyor of services. However, instead of the Security Council making decisions to be carried out by a regional institution, which is the model planned in the former Yugoslavia, the direction was reversed-regional decisions preceded subcontracting upward to the United Nations for its multifunctional services. In spite of the recent elections in El Salvador, Eguizabal points to the tenuousness of peace because the root cause of the conflictunequal distribution of land and political power- remains to be addressed. In Chapter 11, Thomas G. Weiss of Brown University's Watson Institute concludes this book with "The United Nations and Civil Wars at the Dawn of the Twenty-First Century." To the extent that generalizations are possible, Weiss extracts lessons from the preceding chapters about the international community's multifaceted efforts to help countries and their populations that are suffering from the throes of civil war. While proceeding through the text, the reader may wish to keep in mind the following questions, which provide the structure for the final chapter. 1. What is the analytical impact of the Third World and the former Second World? 2. What is the significance of international actions in civil, rather than interstate, wars? 3. Is there any end to fragmentation? 4. What constitutes "success" and ''failure?" 5. What circumscribes international intervention? 6. Is the state the appropriate unit of analysis? 7. Is prevention a possibility? 8. What is the possible contribution of other actors to the UN' s international safety net? 9. What is the role of the media? 10. What is the role of the United States?

• Part 1 • Insecurity, Instability, and Intrastate Wars

• 2. The New-Old Disorder in the Third World ---------- - - - - -

MOHAMMED AYOOB

Many analysts' perceptions of the new disorder in the Third World following the end of the Cold War actually demonstrates a continuity from the earlier epoch of bipolarity and superpower competition for power and influence in the developing world. However, the end of the Cold War has made a tremendous difference in these perceptions. It has done so by removing the dominant overlay of global rivalries from Third World conflicts, thereby making the task of studying these conflicts and the accompanying disorder both easier and more complex. The task has been made easier because the new global context allows the analyst to perceive more clearly the primary factors in the Third World's current historical situation that contribute to its security predicament. Simultaneously, the task has been made more complex by the elimination of the simple bipolar model of global competition. It is within this competition that many conflicts in the Third World conveniently could fit because of the external connections between local protagonists and superpowers. The neat but superficial packaging had made the conflicts and insecurities of Third World states comprehensible to large segments of the policymaking and academic communities. The end of the Cold War therefore has left many specialists, within and outside governments, groping for answers and bewildered at the plethora of ostensibly unique factors that seem to determine the origins and course of individual conflicts in the Third World. Instabilities and insecurities are largely a function of the historical juncture where most Third World states find themselves. Disorder is primarily the product of the early stage of state-making during which, as the earlier European example demonstrates, violence and conflict are inevitable. 1 States attempt to expand and consolidate their control over demographic and territorial space that often is contested by neighboring states. However, these states are concurrently engaged in their own state building enterprise. Also, populations on the periphery resist the extension of centralized state power, so they inevitably become engaged in interstate wars or intrastate conflicts, which are euphemistically termed civil wars. It is this phenomenon of simultaneous state building by 13

14

MOHAMMEDAYOOB

contiguous and proximate states that lies at the heart of most of the conflict that has existed in the Third World since the beginning of decolonization and that continues today. 2 The Cold War overlay had given Third World conflicts a peculiar twist by presenting most of them as part of a Manichean global tussle between good and evil, progress and reaction. It should be clear that superpower involvement in Third World conflicts in supportive and other roles did not commit the two dominant global powers to ensure the security of their local clients and allies under any circumstances or to confront each other directly to ensure security for their allies. This marked the most remarkable difference between superpower commitments in Europe and in the Third World. The latter were instrumental to the superpowers because they provided safe avenues for the conduct of their global rivalry without winning or losing in the Third World or affecting their vital interests-interests that could clash directly with European interests. In other words, "As the gray area not covered by alliance commitments and nuclear weapons, the Third World became the zone where East-West competition could be waged with minimal apparent danger of uncontrolled escalation."3 While the strategic picture in Europe remained frozen during the forty-five years of the Cold War, the situation in the Third World continued to be fluid as both superpowers experienced gains and losses. The incongruence in the European and Third World contexts reminds one of Robert Tucker's comparison of the post-world warn situation to the one that prevailed in the classic balanceof-power age in the 19th century, where "such moderation as the balance of power introduced in Europe depended upon the immoderation of its working in the world outside Europe."4 The premise that the end of the Cold War will necessarily increase disorder in the Third World needs to be qualified for two reasons. First, because it does not do justice to the fact that the roots of violence and conflict in the Third World reside in the internal situations there. These roots are amenable to only a moderate amount of influence from external factors, including the specific distribution of power among the great powers at a particular time. Second, this premise assumes that the bipolar distribution of power during the Cold War era had mitigated, if not resolved, conflicts in the Third World. On the contrary, we can argue that in most cases superpower rivalry exacerbated tensions in the Third World by providing external sources of political, military, and economic support to regional foes. This prompted local protagonists to be more stubborn and provided them with the means to prolong and intensify conflicts. At the same time, superpower apprehensions of being directly sucked into regional conflicts placed restraints on the conflictual behavior of Third World protagonists. To this extent, the superpowers cooperated in insulating their rivalry from unwelcome Third World intrusion. The transfer of relatively sophisticated weapons, with the superpowers responsible for as much as 70 percent of global arms deliveries in the 1980s,5 not only provided Third World protagonists with enhanced capabilities for human

DISORDER IN THE THIRD WORLD

15

and material destruction, but also promoted an escalating arms races. In several cases, arms transfers motivated Third World states that were engaged in territorial disputes to escalate tensions to the level of shooting wars when they perceived that they had temporary technological superiority-the so-called window of opportunity--over their regional rivals. The developing countries' share in the global import of arms reached 80 percent in the 1980s and confirms the importance of weapons transfers to Third World conflicts during the Cold War era. The top ten arms recipients during the 1980s accounted for about half of the world's total arms imports and did not include a single developed country. 6

Continuing Relevance of "Third World" as Concept and Category The end of the Cold War has not resulted in making the Third World irrelevant as an explanatory category in international politics. By freeing the concept from its original bondage to the concepts of the First and Second Worlds, the demise of the Cold War has provided greater relevance as an analytical device with the power to explain much of what goes on in the international system, especially in terms of hierarchy and inequality, order and disorder, and conflict and security. The dismemberment ofthe Soviet Union and Yugoslavia at the end of the Cold War also has led to the geographical expansion of the Third World, which now embraces Central Asia, the Caucasus, and the Balkans. The relevance of the Third World, or the South, has been reinforced by the end of the Cold War because now the dichotomy between the developed, affluent, and powerful North and the underdeveloped, poor, and weak South is visible in even starker terms than earlier. Formerly, the Second World had allied itself on several crucial issues with the Third World and provided some balance to the West/North in the international system. This gave the Third World political and economic leverage vis-a-vis the industrialized democracies. Moreover, the Second World had provided greater complexity to the international political and economic scene during the Cold War, making the North-South division somewhat fuzzy. The end of the Cold War clearly has juxtaposed the vulnerabilities and insecurities of the South-an increasingly popular synonym for the Third World-with the power and affluence of the industrialized North. A result of the end of the Cold War, as Shahram Chubin points out, has been that "The South is under siege-from an international community impatient to meddle in its affairs. States of the South are losing their sovereignty, which in many cases was only recently or tentatively acquired."7 Moreover, as James Goldgeier and Michael McFaul argue, the northern core and the southern periphery of the international system are expected not only to differ in managing international political and economic relations but also to

16

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diverge further from each other with the end of the Cold War. As a result, it will be the tale of two worlds of international politics in the post-cold war era. In the core, economic interdependence, political democracy, and nuclear weapons lessen the security dilemma; the major powers have no pressures for expansion. The result is a relationship consistent with a liberal model of international politics. Conflicts do not disappear, but they are not resolved militarily. In the periphery, however, absolute deterrents that might induce caution do not exist. A variety of political systems ranging from democracies to monarchies coexist side by side, and interdependence between peripheral states is subordinate to dependence on core states. Pressures for expansion are still present, stemming from goals of wealth, population, and protection as well as from internal instabilities. Under these conditions ... structural realism is inadequate to explain the behavior of states in the core but is relevant for understanding regional security systems in the periphery.8

This dichotomy posits a Lockean core existing in the midst of a Hobbesian periphery. Therefore, one can argue that the interaction of these two distinct components of the international system is likely to provide a central theme in the international relations of the post-Cold War era. The expansion in the states that constitute the Third World has taken place as new states have emerged following the breakup of the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia, and as ethnic antagonisms that had been forced underground by the twin forces of Russian imperialism and Leninist ideology have resurfaced with a vengeance. In terms of their colonial background, their arbitrary boundaries (constructed by external powers), their lack of societal cohesion, their recent emergence into juridical statehood, and their stage of development, the states of the Caucasus, Central Asia, and the Balkans demonstrate political, economic, and social characteristics that are in many ways akin to Asian, African, and Latin American states rather than to those of the developed European states. Najdan Pasic, in a prescient article on the Balkans, noted more than two decades ago: From the Holy Alliance and the Congress of Berlin to the Yalta Conference ... the Balkan peoples had their destinies carved by others. The parceling out of political and national structures in the Balkans was in a substantial part the product of such external forces. In this respect, the historical circumstances surrounding nationbuilding in the Balkans bear a close resemblance to those in which nations and independent national states have taken shape in other parts of the economically underdeveloped world. 9

Recent events, especially the many ethnic conflicts and the simultaneous operations of secessionist and irredentist forces, have confirmed not merely the affinity of the Balkan states' security problems with those of the Third World, but also their status as members of the Third World. Similar factors that make many of those prototypical Third World states operate in the post-Soviet states of Central Asia and the Caucasus. 10 Two fundamental factors underlie the variables that determine the common

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character of apparently disparate states. These are the stage of state making where Third World states currently find themselves, and their late entry into the international system as full, formal members of the system of juridically sovereign states. Taken together, these two variables explain most of the predicaments faced by Third World states today and a great deal about their domestic and international behavior.U

The Third World and the End of the Cold War It would be wrong to conclude from the above analysis that there have been no changes concerning conflict and security in the Third World since the end of the Cold War. Some things obviously have changed as a result of that event, which is considered to be epoch-defining by most analysts of the international system. For example, the systemic or global dimension had been very important during the Cold War decades in sustaining the level and intensity of conflicts in the Third World. If the end of the Cold War leads to a major decline in the supply of sophisticated arms to Third World states, it may contribute to the decrease in the intensity, and even the frequency, of interstate wars. Although after 1987 the value of all arms deliveries to the Third World fell for five consecutive years-the value of arms deliveries in 1992 at $12.7 billion was roughly one-quarter in real terms of the arms delivered in 1987 12there is no guarantee this trend will continue. Several signs indicate a reversal in this trend in the next few years if not already. Major arms transfer deals involving Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, and other monarchies on the Arab coast of the Persian Gulf have taken place in the aftermath of the Gulf War. There are other examples, such as the deals struck with Taiwan by the Bush administration during the latter's dying days for the supply of sophisticated equipment; the dire Russian need for hard currency that has prompted its supplying sophisticated weapons systems and weapons technology to China; the aggressive Chinese marketing of its own arms; the increase in the acquisition of sophisticated weaponry by the newly industrializing countries of Southeast Asia; and the perennial European search for commercially profitable weapons markets in the Third World. In addition, the increasing arms production capacity of states such as Brazil, India, and South Korea, as well as the entry of some of them into the weapons market as exporters of equipment well suited to the needs of protagonists in regional conflicts, are likely to fuel further the arms races in conflictprone regions of the Third World. The presence of two global powers balancing each other had provided Third World states, especially the larger and more important among them and those that were geopolitically and geo-economically strategic, some leverage in their individual dealings with the major powers. This might not have been possible if the global distribution of power had been more diffuse or if the nature of the superpower relationship had been less competitive. The end of the Cold War in

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this sense has made even relatively important Third World states more vulnerable to pressure from the lone superpower, the United States. If such pressure is applied insensitively, it can seriously detract from the autonomy of many important states, such as India, that have always prided themselves on their independent foreign policy postures. The perceived detraction of autonomy could both lessen the legitimacy of these states and their regimes in the eyes of their own people and add to disorder in the Third World. Above all, however, it is the relegitimation of ethnonationalism in Europe after the end of the Cold War that is likely to have the gravest impact on issues of order and disorder in the Third World. The prompt recognition of Slovenia and Croatia by the European Community and the inability and unwillingness of the United States and the West European countries to intervene to prevent the excesses of ethnonationalism in the Balkans--especially the atrocities in the name of "ethnic cleansing" perpetrated by the Serbs against the Bosnian Muslims~ould incite demands for ethnic separatism elsewhere. They are also likely to encourage large-scale massacres of ethnic opponents, as in Rwanda. Ethnic strife is a problem that has plagued most postcolonial states, almost all of which happen to preside over multiethnic societies within artificial boundaries drawn by European imperial powers for reasons of administrative convenience or interimperial trade-off. Any accentuation of ethnic separatist demands in the context of state and regime fragilities in the Third World is bound to add to the already existing disorder within these polities. The use of the doctrine of national self-determination by ethnic separatists to justify their demands for secession is especially damaging as far as the integrity and security of Third World states are concerned, because it directly counters the imperatives of state making and effective statehood in multiethnic polities. Since the boundaries of almost all Third World states encompass more than one ethnic group (some run into dozens), the legitimation of ethnonational self-determination in any part of the globe can have demonstrative effects that could be catastrophic for several Third World states. This assertion is validated by the fact that "under the banner of self-determination, there are active movements in more than sixty countries-one third of the total roster of nations-to achieve full sovereignty or some lesser degree of 'minority' rights. A number of these movements have developed into ongoing civil wars." 13 Moreover, the self-perception and self-definition of ethnicity are subject to change depending on the context in which it operates at any time. As a leading scholar of South Asian ethnicities points out, ethnicity is a fluid and flexible concept: "Its boundaries expand or contract. Its multiple attributes assume a different order of pre-eminence in diverse situations."14 Similarly, Crawford Young argues that contemporary ethnicity "is in major respects contextual, situational, and circumstantial. " 15 The leading current example of the flexibility and the fluid nature of ethnicity is the transformation of Somalia, which until recently was considered the only nation-state in Africa because most of its people belonged to the same linguistic and religious group. However, the

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country became a virtual anarchy that pitted clans and subclans against each other. Northern Somalia, the former British Somaliland, announced its secession from Somalia in May 1991, although this has not been recognized by any other state. The rest of the country has slipped into such an acute state of ungovernability that it has become the prime contemporary example of the failed state phenomenon. Somali identity, which in the late 1970s led to an irredentist war against neighboring Ethiopia over the latter's possession of the Somali-inhabited Ogaden, now lies in shambles, demonstrating how superficially constructed it was in the first place. To link such a potent ideology as self-determination to such a malleable idea as ethnicity, and then to legitimize this combination by referring to the principle of group rights, is bound to introduce an ever greater disorder in the Third World. It would do so by endowing the demands of every disgruntled ethnic group with the legitimacy of the ideal of national self-determination. The danger is that this is exactly what the renewed legitimation of the idea of ethnonational selfdetermination in southeastern Europe may achieve to the great detriment both of order and justice in the Third World. Ethnic separatism, or the demand for secession, is not merely a domestic but also an international problem because it affects neighboring states in various ways, ranging from refugee movements across state boundaries, to sympathetic reactions by cross-border populations with ethnic affinities, to irredentist demands against contiguous states. As a result, it is rare to find secessionist conflicts that do not spill over international boundaries and do not attract supporters in neighboring countries. Donald Horowitz best describes that interconnection in his celebrated statement: "Secession lies squarely at the juncture of internal and international politics." 16 Therefore, the escalation of ethnic-separatist demands could exacerbate not only intrastate but also interstate conflict in the Third World. The current insurgency in the Indian state of Jammu and Kashmir, along with the consequent tension between India and Pakistan, is an early example of what could be a fast-spreading contagion.

Failing States and International Norms The issue of ethnonationalism is linked to the phenomenon of failed states. This phenomenon results from the inability of political institutions to provide even the minimum order necessary to enable a tolerable life for citizens and peaceful routine interactions among individuals. Jack Snyder has described succinctly the link between the two by portraying ethnic nationalism as "the default option." Ethnic nationalism, he says, "predominates when institutions collapse, when existing institutions are not fulfilling people's basic needs and when satisfactory alternative structures are not readily available." 17 Snyder may not provide the complete explanation for the revival of ethnonationalism, but he captures a major ingredient-namely, the lack of effective statehood that has contributed

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to the recent popularity of the ethnonationalist ideology. This is true not only in the former Soviet Union and the former Yugoslavia but also in many parts of Asia and Africa. It was the lack of effective statehood-or "empirical statehood" in Robert Jackson's words-that was responsible for the emergence of "quasistates" in the Third World. 18 These quasi-states now can be seen clearly as precursors of failed states in the Third World. Many Third World states owed their independent existence within their colonially constructed boundaries to a major norm that had governed the international system since the end of World War II. The norm decreed that once a postcolonial state acquired juridical sovereignty and was extended international recognition, most of all as a member in the United Nations, its territorial integrity was assured under international law, even if the state in question turned out to be less than fully viable and effective. By assuring fragile Third World states of juridical statehood, the norm helped many nations through the crucial initial stage of state building. Without the protection of this international norm, several states, especially in Africa but also in the Middle East and Asia, would have fragmented early in their postcolonial existence. 19 The norm took effect through the international practice of granting selfdetermination to colonial peoples within their colonially constructed boundaries. As Hurst Hannum points out: UN and state practice since 1960 provides evidence that the international community recognizes only a very limited right to 1) external self-determination, defined as the right to freedom from a former colonial power, and 2) internal selfdetermination, defmed as independence of the whole state's population from foreign intervention or influence. 20

Stability during the Cold War had helped augment the norm because both superpowers were wary of states breaking apart in unpredictable ways that might either work to the detriment of Moscow or Washington or involve one or both of them in messy situations from which they might be unable to extricate themselves. However, the events of the last few years have had a major negative impact on the continued operation of that norm. During this time, the international community has tolerated and sometimes encouraged secession from, and the transformation of the borders of, existing states. On the one hand, the disintegration of the Soviet Union, although it can be explained as the end of the last European empire, has demonstrated that even a superpower may not remain immune to the pressures of fragmentation. On the other hand, the relaxation in international tensions and the end ofbipolarity have meant that the remaining superpower, the United States, and the other great powers no longer have as much stake in the maintenance of the territorial status quo globally-including in the peripheral areas of Europe like the Balkans-as they did during the Cold War. The major capitals of the world appear to take a more relaxed view of transformations of state boundaries and the failure and disintegration of states in the Third World, in the Balkans, and even in Eastern

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Europe than they did just a few years ago, when they were still worried about the impact of such shifts on the global balance of power. The disintegration of the Soviet Union, the breakup of Yugoslavia, the separation of Slovakia from the Czech Republic, the secession of Eritrea from Ethiopia, and the prompt admission of the breakaway states into the UN have sent a clear message to prospective separatists in the Third World: the international community is no longer irretrievably committed to the maintenance of existing state boundaries. It is possible to argue at the intellectual plane that the current international toleration of state breaking is limited and a product of the specific circumstances that accompanied the end of the Cold War, especially the demise of the Soviet Union, and is not a long-term trend in the international system. In practical terms, the damage might already have been done by the effect of the disintegration of established states on more fragile Third World states, and especially on groups agitating for their fragmentation. Even the temporary and limited diversion from the norm that the international community guaranteed political boundaries of states once they were established and recognized could worsen the security problems of Third World states that face secessionist challenges. The end of the Cold War has had another important impact on the transformation of some fragile Third World states into failed states. This is apparent in the case of those states that had witnessed high levels of superpower involvement, especially military. At the height of the Cold War, Moscow and Washington attempted to shore up client governments in internally fragmented states, often with a view to maintaining a semblance of stability within countries that were allied with one superpower or the other. A major instrument of this support was the transfer of large quantities of relatively sophisticated arms to friendly regimes, which sometimes led to countervailing transfers of weaponry by the rival superpower to forces opposed to the central authorities. The situation of Afghanistan during the 1980s epitomizes that action-reaction phenomenon. Past superpower policies of pouring arms into fragmented polities have, however, become a major source ofinstability anddisorderin the post-Cold War period. As one observer points out about Somalia, "Today the prevalence of modem weapons, Somalia's most significant legacy of superpowerinvolvement during the Cold War, has undermined the very foundation for order in Somalia's society-the authority of clan elders." 21 Large quantities of relatively sophisticated weaponry, ranging from AK- 47s to Stinger missiles, combined with the withdrawal of superpower support to weak and vulnerable regimes, have created near total anarchy in countries such as Afghanistan and Somalia, where the complete collapse of central authority has turned those quasi-states into failed states. In such cases, support was essential to prevent the central authorities from being overwhelmed by domestic rivals, who in tum were divided among themselves. While the human toll in Afghanistan has continued to mount even five years after the Soviet withdrawal/2 the starvation in Somalia during 1991 and 1992 was

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by some measures worse than the 1984--1985 Ethiopian famine-the universal benchmark for incomprehensible human suffering. The Ethiopian famine was somewhat limited to specific geographic pockets; in contrast, in July 1992 the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) was estimating that 95 percent of the people in Somalia suffered from malnutrition, with 70 percent enduring severe malnutrition. 23 Zaire, a major U.S. client in Africa during the Cold War-when it was used as a conduit for the supply of arms to Angolan factions fighting the Sovietsupported MPLA regime in Luanda-is on the verge ofbecoming a massive case of state failure as well. With Washington no longer interested in propping up the corrupt and predatory Mobutu regime after the end of the Cold War, the situation in Zaire over the past several years has become increasingly anarchic. The U.S. State Department has warned in a confidential memorandum that Zaire could well develop into "Somalia and Liberia rolled into one."24 The rising number of refugees in the Third World attests to the great potential for disorder demonstrated by the twin phenomena of ethnic conflict and failed states. The UN High Commissioner for Refugees reports that the combination of ethnic strife and failed statehood pushed the number of persons uprooted by wars to 44 million in 1993. Of these, close to 20 million have been driven across international boundaries and approximately 24 million have been forced into exile within their own countries. 25 Such huge human displacement is bound to push entire regions toward the chronic instability demonstrated in recent decades across Asia, Africa, and Latin America. The process of refugee flows has intensified during the past few years as more states in the Third World have failed to assert control over their territories and to afford even minimum protection to their citizens. This intensity is reflected especially in the number and plight of internal refugees-that is, refugees within their own states, who now outnumber international refugees by five to four. 26 Currently, parts of Africa, Central Asia, and the Balkans are all in the throes of ethnic conflicts or state failure and are leading contenders for regional instability that can be directly connected with large-scale human movements across and within state boundaries. However, other parts of the Third World, as earlier experiences demonstrate, are not immune to the negative effects of this problem, which is both a consequence and a cause of instability and conflict in the Third World. 27 During the last two decades, Ethiopia, Sudan, and Somalia also have clearly demonstrated the close relationship between internal strife and famine. In a circular relationship, the latter has been largely the result of the former, while at the same time it has contributed to the further escalation of intrastate conflict over increasingly shrinking resources. The combination of these two factors feeding upon each other has led to massive displacement of populations both within these states and across international boundaries, which, given the ethnic overlap among the populations of East African states, are very porous. 28

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Humanitarian Intervention Failed or failing states, acute ethnic conflict, and the human misery that has accompanied them have led to a new form of international intervention in the Third World that has been termed humanitarian intervention. 29 However, these interventions usually have suffered from the lack of adequate resources or from inadequate understanding of the situation on the ground. Moreover, inappropriate or failed humanitarian interventions may contribute to disorder rather than alleviate the problems associated with it. Recent events have demonstrated that there have been two major forms of humanitarian intervention, both of which suffer from their own internal inconsistencies.30 First, there is humanitarian intervention that is blatantly politically motivated, as in the case of Kurdish areas in Iraq. When the political interests of a great power are the major reason for humanitarian intervention, the latter loses its legitimacy in the eyes of most people. It also can be seen as a part of the vindictive effort to bypass the sovereignty of the recalcitrant state, such as Iraq. The legitimacy of that intervention is further eroded when the same great power, in this case the United States, does not apply identical yardsticks for intervention in other cases, such as Bosnia, where the violation of human rights appears to have been as bad if not worse than in Iraqi Kurdistan. Furthermore, this form of intervention tends to create the greatest amount of unease in Third World capitals. This was the case after the U.S.-led intervention in the Kurdish areas of Iraq that resulted in the declaration of a substantial portion of Iraqi territory to be out of bounds to Iraqi forces. James Jonah, the former UN Under-Secretary-General for Political Affairs, stated clearly following the Western intervention to provide safe havens for Iraqi Kurds: Most small and medium-sized states, particularly in the Third World, have expressed concern at the way the concept of humanitarian intervention has been applied in Iraq. They fear that this precedent could be used in future as a pretext for old-fashioned political and military intervention in weak states. 31

The second form of humanitarian intervention can be termed politically innocent. As apparently in the case in Somalia, this kind of intervention does not take into account and address the political causes from the beginning. In such situations, humanitarian intervention is deemed necessary, but it defies the fundamental logic regarding external intervention stated succinctly by Michael Mandelbaum: ''There is no such thing as humanitarian intervention. You can't intervene just to relieve suffering because suffering has political causes.' 032 Mandelbaum is correct in saying that "intervention undertaken for purely humanitarian reasons leads inevitably to two quintessentially political tasks: guaranteeing the borders of countries under challenge, and constructing an apparatus of government in places where it is absent.''33 Unless the UN and/or the intervening powers are willing to undertake and complete those tasks, and

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pay the price for their completion in lives and money, humanitarian intervention could either reward aggression, as in Bosnia, or leave the political situation more confused and internal conflict more intractable than was the case before the intervention, as in Somalia. Politically innocent humanitarian intervention suffers most of all because it is undertaken without a realistic assessment of costs and benefits. In the absence of visible political aims that are tied to the interests of the intervening power or powers, human and material costs easily can be seen as unaffordably high by domestic constituents, thus crippling interventionist efforts in midstream.34 This type of failed humanitarian intervention can leave the targeted failed state in a greater mess than if the intervention had not been undertaken at all. Furthermore, the selectiveness of humanitarian intervention, even among the many cases within the Third World that could qualify for intervention, reinforces doubts about the real reasons for intervention, especially now that the United States has arrogated to itself the right to determine in which cases the UN should intervene even for humanitarian reasons. 35 For many reasons humanitarian intervention, in any effective sense of the term, can be considered to be a nonstarter. Both politically motivated and politically innocent varieties of intervention may be counterproductive. Moreover, lack of resources and will could make such intervention selective, detracting further from its credibility as a legitimate instrument for the enforcement of the will of the international community as a whole.

Prognosis for the Future From the foregoing analysis one could conclude that the Third World is unfortunately doomed to an insecure and disorderly existence well into the foreseeable future. This is because of internal reasons at this historical juncture and because of the operation of international norms and the international system. What makes the current situation very dangerous for regional and international security, however, is that in the last decade of the twentieth century the outcome of state failure may be dramatically different from what it was from the seventeenth to the nineteenth century. Then, European states were at an early stage of state building that roughly corresponded to where most Third World states are today. During that earlier period, conquest and annexation were permissible under the norms governing the international system, and many unviable states were annexed by or partitioned among their stronger and more viable neighbors. This led to a dramatic reduction in the number of political entities that constituted the European international system, from about five hundred in 1500 to twenty-five in 1900 and, consequently, to their consolidation as viable modem states.36

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Annexation and conquest are no longer feasible in the prevailing climate of the international system, for two reasons. First, conquest and annexation in all probability will continue to remain impermissible under international law (although this does not mean that there will be no exceptions), even if the norm relating to the territorial integrity of postcolonial states is relaxed. Second, now that the era of direct and formal colonialism is over, conquest and annexation can be undertaken only by neighboring states. They can, therefore, be ruled out in most cases because Third World neighbors of failed or failing states usually have neither the capability nor the will to annex and integrate failed states, or even parts of them. However, several Third World states may be willing to dismember hostile neighbors if the international environment becomes more permissible. The Indian intervention in the crisis in East Pakistan in 1971 demonstrated that dismemberment is one thing and annexation quite another. While some Third World states may profess irredentist designs against neighbors, the majority certainly will not be interested in annexing large chunks of their neighbors' territories and populations because this would complicate their already acute problems of ethnicity and ethnonationalism. Therefore, failed states will be left with only two options: to continue reveling in their anarchy and the suffering that failure will cause their populations; or to splinter into a number of ministates carved out mainly around temporarily self-defined, dominant ethnic groups in particular regions of the failed states that are in near-perpetual conflict with similarly defmed neighbors. Ethnic self-definitions in these cases may be used as surrogates for failed political institutions, thus providing further evidence that ethnicity "has now become the ultimate resort of the politically desperate." 37 These ministates then will seek recognition as full members of the international community, a status that the established states will find difficult to refuse because of the precedents already set in the early 1990s in the Balkans and in relation to the Soviet successor states. If Balkanization occurs on a major scale in the Third World, it will probably lead to a situation against which Hannum has warned emphatically: Full exercise of ethnic self-determination, grounded on linguistic, religious, or other self-defining criteria, might better protect current incarnations of "nationalities," "minorities," and "indigenous peoples." Nevertheless, the prospect of 5,000 homogeneous, independent statelets which define themselves primarily in ethnic, religious, or linguistic terms is one that should inspire at least as much trepidation as admiration. As frontiers are shifted and minorities displaced to make way for greater purity, a new age of intolerance is more likely to follow than is an era of mutual respect and tolerance for altl8

Even if the number of states increases to 500 rather than the 5,000 envisaged by Hannum, it would be a more anarchic situation than the one today, with full membership of the system of states bestowed on more than 180 states. This

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especially would be the case since most of the newcomers will be even more insecure and vulnerable, and their legitimacy even more hotly contested than the most insecure and vulnerable states that emerged in the wake of decolonization.

The Role of the United Nations It was widely expected in the aftermath of the Cold War that the UN would be able to contribute to the mitigation of the new and old disorder in the Third World, especially with the UN's security mechanism ostensibly reinvigorated with the end of superpower rivalry. This expectation was wrong for several reasons. These included the lack of resources at the UN' s disposal, the domination of the Security Council by a group of powers intent on using the UN system for their own ends, and, above all, that much of the disorder in the Third World is generated from within states and is largely immune to external, including UN, influence and control. United Nations intervention in intrastate conflicts in the Third World, which form the overwhelming majority of conflicts in the global periphery, may be at best marginal and at worst counterproductive. The United Nations can make a difference in this gloomy picture, especially in recognizing new states that break away from established ones in the Third World. A too permissive approach to state breaking will add to conflict and anarchy rather than preserve international order, as was demonstrated in the former Yugoslavia. Colonially imposed state boundaries may be the most iniquitous way of delineating the borders of Third World states, but every other alternative appears to be infinitely worse. The United Nations must not fall into the trap of giving legitimacy to demands for ethnonational self-determination, because there are no pure ethnic homelands left in any part of the globe. The creation of ministates is bound both to spawn the demand for the creation of microstates from the same ostensibly pure ethnic ministates and lead to virulent "ethnic cleansing." A word of caution is also necessary about using the UN Security Council as an agency to endorse collective security operations undertaken by great powers while apparently conforming to the spirit of the UN Charter. The use of the collective security doctrine against Third World states in the post-Cold War era to serve the interests of a great power or a concert of powers, as was the case during the U.S.-led war against Iraq, could add to disorder in the Third World. In fact, any attempt by the great powers to selectively utilize the collective security mechanism enshrined in the UN Charter, without giving the international body adequate control over so-called collective security operations, is a sure way of delegitimizing not merely such actions but also the United Nations itself. Collective security, like justice, must function blindly if it is to be credible among the wider international community. If the doctrine of collective security cannot be invoked impartially in all cases of aggression, it is better not to invoke it at all.

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Conclusion Several conclusions follow from the foregoing analysis. One, the end of the Cold Waris unlikely to affect the fundamental dynamics of conflict in the Third World in any major way, because these dynamics largely belong in the historical situation in which Third World states find themselves. Two, this does not mean that the Cold War has had no impact on the intensity and duration of Third World conflicts; in most cases disorder in the Third World was exacerbated by the playing out of superpower rivalries in relatively "safe" locations on the global periphery. Three, the relaxation since the end of the Cold War of international norms that had guaranteed the sovereignty and integrity of post-colonial states could contribute to the proliferation of both ethnic conflicts and failed states in the Third World. The erosion of such norms can lead to the unmanageable proliferation of weak and vulnerable states within the international system. Four, great power policies in the post-Cold War era, especially the speedy recognition of breakaway states and the blatantly partisan use of the collective security provisions of the UN Charter to legitimize actions to preserve great power interests, do not augur well as far as the maintenance and augmentation of order in the Third World are concerned. In light of this analysis, the Third World is likely to continue to suffer from disorder in the post-Cold War era. While the fundamental reasons for violence and conflict will continue to be rooted in the ongoing process of state making in the Third World and in the resistance to this process by recalcitrant segments within the populations of these states, several new elements introduced into that process by the end of the Cold War are likely to worsen the problem of maintaining order. Contrary to some prognoses,39 the components of the international system are so closely intertwined today that one cannot realistically contemplate a Hobbesian periphery and a Lockean core existing side by side without the former exporting some of its instabilities and insecurities to the latter. It would be particularly foolhardy to assume that a core of thirty-odd states can keep itself free of the turmoil prevailing in a group of states four or five times larger. The flaws in this assumption are sharper when one realizes that some of the states in the periphery, such as those in the Gulf, possess strategic resources, while others, such as those in Central Asia and the Caucasus, have the ability to enmesh great powers, in this case Russia, in their interstate and intrastate conflicts. Yet others, such as Israel, India, and Pakistan, and now possibly North Korea, have accumulated nuclear and missile capabilities that can wreak havoc on a frightening scale. More generally, conflict, instability, and insecurity in the Third World will probably lead not only to refugee flows into neighboring states but also to migrations to the developed countries, creating racial tensions within the industrialized democracies. 40 Therefore, in this era of weapons of mass destruction and jet travel, the core of industrialized democracies, despite its best efforts, cannot insulate itself from the conflicts and instabilities on the global periphery.

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The new and old disorder in the Third World is destined to have global ramifications that could have a major impact on the future of the industrialized world. But there may be an element of poetic justice in this after all.

Notes This chapter is published also in Global Governance 1, no. 1 (Winter 1995): 59-78. 1. For a comprehensive analysis of state making in Europe, see Charles Tilly, ed., The Formation of National States in Western Europe (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1975). 2. For details of this argument, see Mohammed Ayoob, ''The Security Predicament of the Third World State: Reflections on State Making in a Comparative Perspective," in Brian L. Job, ed., The Insecurity Dilemma: National Security of Third World States (Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 1992), 63-80. This argument has been placed in its broader global context in Mohammed Ayoob, The Third World Security Predicament: State Making, Regional Conflict and the International System (Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 1995). 3. RobertS. Litwak and Samuel F. Wells, Jr., "Introduction," in Litwak and Wells, eds., Superpower Competition and Security in the Third World (Cambridge, Mass.: Ballinger, 1988), x. 4. Robert W. Tucker, The Inequality of Nations (London: Martin Robertson, 1977), 7. 5. Keith Krause, Arms and the State: Patterns of Military Production and Trade (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), Table 8, 87. 6. Ibid., Tables 27 and 28, 184-185. 7. Shahram Chubin, "The South and the New World Order," Washington Quarterly 16, no. 4 (Autumn 1993), 88. 8. James M. Goldgeier and Michael McFaul, "A Tale of Two Worlds: Core and Periphery in the Post-Cold War Era," International Organization 46, no. 2 (Spring 1992): 469-470. 9. Najdan Pasic, "Varieties of Nation-Building in the Balkans and Among the SouthernSlavs,"inS.N.EisenstadtandSteinRokkan,eds.,BuildingStatesandNations, vol. 2 (Beverly Hills: Sage, 1973), 130. 10. For an insightful analysis of the post-Soviet states of Central Asia and Azerbaijan, see Shireen T. Hunter, "The Muslim Republics of the Former Soviet Union: Policy Challenges for the United States," Washington Quarterly 15, no. 3 (Summer 1992): 5771. 11. For details of this argument, see Ayoob, The Third World Security Predicament. 12. Richard F. Grimmett, Conventional Arms Transfers to the Third World, 19851992 (Washington, D.C.: Congressional Research Service, 19 July 1993), 5. 13. Lloyd N. Cutler, "Foreword," in Morton H. Halperin and David J. Scheffer with Patricia L. Small, Self-Determination in the New World Order (Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 1992), xi. 14. UrmilaPhadnis, Ethnicityand Nation-Building in SouthAsia (New Delhi: Sage, 1990), 241. 15. Crawford Young, ''The Temple of Ethnicity," World Politics 35, no. 4 (July 1983): 659. 16. Donald L. Horowitz, Ethnic Groups in Conflict (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985), 230.

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17. Jack Snyder, "Nationalism and the Crisis of the Post-Soviet State," Survival 35, no. 1 (Spring 1993): 12. 18. Robert H. Jackson, Quasi-States: Sovereignty, International Relations and the Third World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990). 19. For details of this argument, see ibid. 20. Hurst Hannum, Autonomy, Sovereignty, and Self-Determination: The Accommodation of Conflicting Rights (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1990), 49. 21. Jeffrey Clark, "Debacle in Somalia: Failure of the Collective Response," in Lori Fisler Darnrosch, ed., Enforcing Restraint: Collective Intervention in Internal Conflicts (New York: Council on Foreign Relations Press, 1993), 207-208. 22. For details of the civil war in Afghanistan after the Soviet withdrawal and the disintegration of the Afghan state, see Barnet R. Rubin, "Post-Cold War State Disintegration: The F allure oflnternational Conflict Resolution in Afghanistan," Journal of International Affairs 46, no. 2 (Winter 1993), 469-492. 23. Clark, "Debacle in Somalia," 212. 24. Quoted in Kenneth B. Noble, "Mobutu Overture to U.S. Reported," New York Times, 16 January 1994, 7. 25. Paul Lewis, "Stoked by Ethnic Conflict, Refugee Numbers Swell," New York Times, 10 November 1993, A6. This account is based on Sadako Ogata, The State ofthe World's Refugees 1993: The Challenge of Protection (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993). For detailed analysis of the nexus between conflict and the refugee problem in the Third World, see Aristide R. Zolberg, Astri Suhrke, and Sergio Aguayo, Escape from Violence: Conflict and the Refugee Crisis in the Developing World (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989). 26. For a forthright personal assessment of the problem of internal refugees, see Francis M. Deng, Protecting the Dispossessed: A Challenge for the International Community (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution, 1993). 27. For a discussion of the relationship between ethnic conflict and the problem of refugees, see Kathleen Newland, "Ethnic Conflict and Refugees," in Michael E. Brown, ed., Ethnic Conflict and International Security (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), 143-163. 28. For a cogent analysis of the root causes of human displacement, see Ogata, State ofthe World's Refugees, 13-22. 29. For detailed analyses of this subject, see Thomas G. Weiss and Larry Minear, eds., Humanitarianism Across Borders: Sustaining Civilians in Times ofWar(Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 1993). See also two books by the same authors, Humanitarian Action in Times ofWar: A Handbook for Practitioners (Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 1993) and Mercy Under Fire: War and the Global Humanitarian Community (Boulder: Westview, 1995). 30. For a comparison of northern Iraq, Somalia, and Bosnia-Herzegovina, see Thomas G. Weiss, ''Triage: Humanitarian Interventions in a New Era," World Policy Journal11, no. 1 (Spring 1994), 59-68. 31. James 0. C. Jonah, "Humanitarian Intervention," in Weiss and Minear, eds., Humanitarianism Across Borders, 69. 32. Michael Mandelbaum quoted in Thomas L. Friedman, ''Theory vs. Practice," New York Times, 1 October 1993, A2. 33. Michael Mandelbaum, ''The Reluctance to Intervene," Foreign Policy, no. 95 (Summer 1994): 5. 34. The classic example of this case was the U.S. intervention in Somalia. For an incisive commentary on the U.S. mission in Somalia and on humanitarian intervention in general, see Thomas L. Friedman, "U.S. Pays Dearly for an Education in Somalia," New York Times, 10 October 1993, section 4, 1, 3.

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MOHAMMED A YOOB

35. For details of U.S. policy on international, and especially humanitarian, intervention as codified in "Presidential Decision Directive 25" and announced on 5 May 1994, see Elaine Sciolino, "New U.S. Peacekeeping Policy De-emphasizes Role of the U.N.: A Sharp Shift from Clinton's Campaign Stance," New York Times, 6 May 1994, A1,A7. 36. Charles Tilly, "Reflections on the History of European State-Making," in Tilly, The Formation of National States in Western Europe, 15. 37. John Chipman, "Managing the Politics of Parochialism," Survival 35, no. 1 (Spring 1993): 143. 38. Hannum, Autonomy, Sovereignty, Self-Determination, 454-455. 39. For example, Max Singer and Aaron Wildavsky, The Real World Order: Zones of Peace/Zones of Turmoil (Chatham: Chatham House Publishers, 1993). 40. For an insightful analysis of the nexus between international migration on the one hand and security and stability on the other, see Myron Weiner, "Security, Stability, and International Migration," International Security 17, no. 3 (Winter 1992-1993): 91126. Also see Gerald Dirks, "The Intensification of International Migratory Pressures: Causes, Consequences, and Responses," in Gerald Dirks et al., The State of the United Nations, 1993: North-South Perspectives, ACUNS Reports and Papers 1993, No. 5 (Providence: Academic Council on the United Nations System, 1993): 65-81.

• 3. Armed Conflict in Eastern Europe and the Former Soviet Union STEPHEN D. SHENFIELD

Mohammed Ayoob argues in Chapter 2 that the dynamics of armed conflict in the Third World show a greater degree of continuity than of change between the Cold War and the post-Cold War periods. When we turn to the Second Worldthat is, to the Soviet successor states and the former communist countries of Central and Eastern Europe-the contrast between the two periods is stark. As long as totalitarian structures remained firmly entrenched, the ethnopolitical and other social tensions inherited from the precommunist past or accumulated under the concealing carapace of the communist regime could find no public outlet of any kind (apart from rare instances of system breakdown, as in Budapest in 1956 or Novocherkassk in 1962). Only the weakening, fragmentation, and dissolution of the totalitarian structures beginning in the late 1980s created space for the open political expression of preexisting tensions. The collapse of totalitarianism also generated new tensions associated with the processes of transformation. It may appear anachronistic to retain the category of a Second World now that the communist order has collapsed. But throwing away the notion of a Second World, however, would be premature; for all the heterogeneity of postcommunist Eurasia, the concept still retains heuristic value. The situation in the countries of Eastern Europe and especially in the "post-Soviet space" (to use the evocative expression popular in the former USSR) cannot be understood in isolation from their unique recent history. A wide range of conditions linked to the genesis of conflict are quite distinct from the conditions of the First World and the Third. These conditions include the distorted economic structure shaped by decades of peculiar technological development, characteristic approaches to incorporating ethnic representation into state organization, the survival in new forms of the nomenklatura as an identifiable and self-conscious social group, and ideological and psychological disorientation. The shared communist experience of the Second World might eventually lose most of its significance as some areas sink into the Third World and others merge into the First World. That, however, is a prospect for the distant future and should not color our perception of the present. 31

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In most parts of the Second World, old and new tensions have not sparked large-scale violence. They have fueled sustained armed conflict primarily in areas strung out along the southern periphery of the region: the former Yugoslavia, Moldova, the Caucasus and Transcaucasus, and Tajikistan. The horror of these conflicts and their destabilizing potential should not blind us to the remarkable way in which the militarization of tensions has been avoided to the north of the arc of turbulence. I begin with a brief survey of the main armed conflicts in the post-Soviet space. (The only armed conflict in postcomrnunist Eastern Europe has been that in the former Yugoslavia, which is discussed by Age Eknes in Chapter 7.) I then analyze the prospects for other armed conflicts that may or may not break out in the former USSR in the future. This survey of past, present, and possible future conflicts provides a base for thinking about the causes of conflict. It is helpful to distinguish between general conditions typical of the postcomrnunist Second World as a whole that may lead to armed conflict and the more proximate causes of specific conflicts. This approach makes it easier to explain why armed conflict has spread in some parts of the Second World but not in others and also suggests that different conflicts may have very different proximate causes. Accordingly, a typology of conflicts emerges. Finally, we consider the ambiguous role Russia has been playing in the conflicts in the post-Soviet space.

Survey of Armed Conflicts in the Former USSR Apart from the violent clashes between presidential and parliamentary forces that occurred in October 1993 in Moscow, armed conflict in the post-Soviet space has been confined mainly to three segments of its southern periphery. In the southwest, Moldova has been at war with the breakaway Dniester Moldovan Republic. In the south, the Caucasus and the Transcaucasus have been the site of seven conflicts: the Karabagh war between Armenia and Azerbaijan, Georgia's wars with South Ossetia and with Abkhazia, the civil war in Georgia between supporters of Shevardnadze and those of Gamsakhurdia, the civil war within Chechnya between supporters and opponents of President Dudayev, and the Osset-lngush conflict and the full-scale war launched by Russia against Chechnya in December 1994. Finally, in the southeast there is the continuing conflict in Tajikistan, a civil war in which Uzbekistan and Russia have intervened. Peacekeeping forces under the effective control of Russia have been introduced into five of these conflicts: Moldova, the only case in which the fighting has been halted, probably permanently; Georgia-Ossetia, another relatively successful intervention; Georgia-Abkhazia; the Osset-Ingush conflict; and Tajikistan. The most important of the conflicts into which peacekeeping forces have not been introduced is the Karabagh war. Table 3.1 shows the number of deaths and refugees (including internally

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33

displaced people directly produced by each conflict. These data are approximate and meant only to give a rough idea of the scale of human suffering involved. The seven conflicts together have been responsible for about 150,000 deaths and over 3 million refugees. The most devastating conflicts have been the war between Armenia and Azerbaijan and the wars in Tajikistan and Chechnya, together accounting for well over 80 percent of the deaths and refugees.

Table 3.1 Human Costs of Conflicts in the Former Soviet Union

Tajikistan Armenia-Azerbaijan Georgia-S. Ossetia Georgia-Abkhazia Osset-Ingush Moldova-Dniester Chechnya

Deaths

Refugees

70,000 55,000 1,000 1,500 15,000 900 ?

600,000 1,700,000 120,000 220,000 65,000 105,000 400,000 ?

Note: Figures for Chechnya are estimated, as of February 1995.

Many refugees have been driven into inhospitable mountainous areas such as Svanetia in Georgia and Gorno-Badakhshan in Tajikistan, where they may starve and freeze. Even the people who did not flee their homes are exposed to famine and epidemics in areas where agriculture and public sanitation are the most devastated by the fighting, as in south and east Tajikistan. The massacres, rapes, burning of homes, and other atrocities associated with "ethnic cleansing" have occurred widely in these conflicts. In Azerbaijan, up to 1,000 Azeri residents were killed by the Armenian conquerors of Khojali in February 1992. In the North Caucasus, 10,000 to 20,000 people were massacred during the October-November 1992 expulsion of the Ingush resettlers from the disputed prigorodnyi raion (the "suburban county" lying between the current border oflngushetia with North Ossetia and the capital of North Ossetia, Vladikavkaz). This massacre was carried out by Ossetian special forces backed up by the Russian army. The civilian population of cities caught up in the Dniester conflict in Moldova, such as Bendery and Dubossary, have also suffered greatly, if on a smaller scale, with casualties running in the hundreds rather than the thousands. 1 Overall casualty rates have been the highest by far in the Tajikistan war. The number of people killed during the period of the most intensive fighting probably lies within the range of 50,000 to 80,000. Mass executions, arrests, and house destructions have been carried out on the basis of region of origin. The economic damage caused by the civil war has been estimated by Prime Minister Rakhmonov at 200 billion rubles-about $4 billion-which does not include the loss

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STEPHEN D. SHENFIELD

represented by the tens of thousands of specialists of all ethnic origins who have fled the country. 2 In summary, even though the greater part of the territory that formerly constituted the Soviet Union has not been drawn into armed hostilities, the intensity of human suffering in areas that have been directly affected is similar to that in other parts of the world wracked by civil conflict. The devastation of the war zones in the Caucasus and Transcaucasus (Abkhazia, southwestern Azerbaijan, and similar regions) is comparable to that of the war zones in the former Yugoslavia; a similar parallel can be drawn between the areas of the worst fighting in Tajikistan and in Afghanistan.

Possible Future Armed Conflicts It is useful to distinguish three categories of new potential armed conflicts in the post-Soviet space. The first category consists of new conflicts that are very close to igniting. Not only is political tension approaching a critical level, but the regular and irregular armed formations that would take part in hostilities are also present. Such conflicts could be triggered at any time by accident or provocation. The situation in Crimea, where irregular secessionist militias and Ukrainian security forces are in a state oflatent confrontation, and also inside the Black Sea Fleet, where several outbreaks of violence between naval personnel loyal to Ukraine and those loyal to Russia have been narrowly averted, are examples of imminent new conflict. Another example is provided by the Lezgis, a North Caucasian people divided by the interstate border between the multiethnic Republic of Dagestan of the Russian Federation and the contiguous area of Azerbaijan. An armed movement for the unification of Lezgistan exists; its activity could create a new zone of conflict in Azerbaijan and could also destabilize the fragile interethnic balance in Dagestan. The second category consists of new conflicts that are not on the point of ignition but could be catalyzed by an existing conflict nearby. Analysts in the post-Soviet states frequently speculate about such an expansion of the zone of conflict in Tajikistan to other contiguous areas of Central Asia, particularly Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan. One scenario formulated by a Kazakh security specialist predicts possible interethnic conflict in three locations involving Tajiks, Uzbeks, and Kyrgyz. 3 The last category consists of hypothetical armed conflicts for which the main preconditions do not exist. In these cases, other potentially triggering conflicts are not present nearby, the necessary armed formations do not yet exist, and political tension remains relatively low. These conflicts are conceivable at some point in the future if the political situation deteriorates sufficiently but are extremely unlikely in the near term. Into this category fall conflicts that could arise from secessionist attempts

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35

by areas of post-Soviet states with predominantly Russian-speaking populations-northeastern Estonia, northern Kazakhstan, and eastern Ukraine. None of these candidates for "a second Dniester conflict" is likely to become violent under current circumstances; nor are potential ethnopolitical disputes in Tatarstan or other pruts of the Russian Federation outside the North Caucasus. 4 Although there is significant near-term potential for new armed conflicts in the post-Soviet space, this potential is still confined to the southern periphery. The penetration of violence into more central regions is conceivable only in the longer term against a background of general socioeconomic collapse.

Predisposing Factors Underlying Armed Conflict in the Second World A wide range of factors typical of the postcommunist Second World may furnish the general conditions for new armed conflict.

Economic Crisis The struggle for subsistence as unemployment and crime increase while living standards and welfare decline can easily take on interethnic or other intergroup forms, especially given the readiness of opportunistic politicians to exploit the traditional craving for scapegoats. Economic hardship may, on the contrary, produce passive anxiety and despondency or evoke purely individual reactions rather than group conflicts. But the possibility of suppressed rage suddenly taking on violent expression (for example, pogroms against Koreans, Armenians, and other groups, which have occurred in Russia) can never be excluded.

Privatization of State Property This process provokes intergroup political and, potentially, military conflict. The question of who gets what is closely dependent on who has state power, which, in turn, depends on what states are formed. For example, the more autonomy or sovereignty gained by the Republic of Tatarstan, the better are the opportunities for citizens of Tatarstan and ethnic Tatars to acquire shares of the valuable industrial capital on Tatarstan territory. The prospect of privatization greatly raises the stakes in struggles for power and makes winning much more urgent. If the coming to power of some group is delayed by a few years, privatization may already have been completed in a fashion detrimental to the interests of that group. The interethnic struggle for privatization opportunities is often the crucial hidden agenda behind arguments about rights of citizenship, as in the Baltic states. Privatization therefore creates a powerful incentive to resolve power struggles rapidly by any means, including-if necessary and feasible-violence.

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STEPHEN D. SHENFIELD

The Weakness of Civil Society The institutions, procedures, and mind-sets of civil society remain too weak to facilitate the peaceful resolution of disputes between social groups and to allay these groups' mutual fears and suspicions.

Disoriented Collectivist Psychology Most people in postcommunist societies, especially in the former USSR, retain a strong need for some form of collective identity and solidarity. As the old sources of collective identity collapse and a weak civil society fails to provide alternative collective identities based on self-organization (civic, professional, and similar forms), the only means of satisfying the yearning for collective feeling is militant and exclusive ethnicity.

Threatened Nomenklatura In most countries of the Second World the postcommunist nomenklatura remains a fairly cohesive social group with a strong sense of identity and awareness of its interests. At the same time, the strength of the nomenklatura's position varies considerably from one country to another. For example, it is extremely strong in Central Asia except for Kyrgyzstan; it is less strong in Russia and Ukraine; and it is very weak in Latvia, Estonia, and the Czech Republic. The nomenklatura's strength clearly tends to decline, with significant fluctuations, overtime. Given this overall context, the nomenklatura in one or another country may feel so threatened that it resorts to preemptive military action against its opponents. This feeling was undoubtedly a crucial factor in the civil war in Tajikistan, and was also important in the Dniester conflict. It has been argued that the nomenklatura's defensiveness played a part in the efforts by political leaders in South Ossetia and Abkhazia to secede from Georgia, but the evidence in these cases is less clear. The importance of the factor of the threatened nomenklatura in explaining armed conflicts is sometimes overstated to the neglect of other factors. Accusations that one's opponents represent nomenklatura interests are common currency in the Second World and are not always well-founded.

Ethno-Territorial Autonomy in State Construction The state structure of the former Soviet Union incorporated a complex hierarchical system of territorial units. The three main levels were the union republics, the autonomous republics, and the autonomous provinces, which, in principle, "belonged to" specific ethnic groups. Members of a titular ethnic group enjoyed certain cultural and political privileges in "their'' territory and were overrepresented in higher education and in the ruling bodies of the territory relative to their proportion within the population. Since this system contained many anomalies that one or another ethnic group perceived as unjust, it constantly generated

CONFLICT IN EAST EUROPE & THE FORMER USSR

37

interethnic tension. Many titular groups (Tatars, Bashkirs, Yak:uts, Abkhaz, and similar groups) constituted a minority in their territories; in some cases (for example, Tatars, Jews), most of the titular group was dispersed outside "its" territory. Moreover, the system made no provision for the territorial autonomy of many ethnic groups, including Russians. 5 Nevertheless, the dominant centralized party rule always constrained and often overrode the subordinate system of ethno-territorial autonomy, which helped contain the tensions generated by this system. However, Gorbachev' s reform of the Soviet political system initiated a process of filling the largely empty forms of "Soviet democracy," including the ethnic autonomies, with real substance. This has strengthened the position of the titular groups, elicited counteraction by other groups, and exacerbated tensions already present in the system. Only within this context can one grasp the dynamics by which armed interethnic conflicts in the post-Soviet space have arisen and are likely to keep arising. Thus, the Armenian-Azerbaijani war had its origin in long-held grievances of the Armenian majority in the Nagomo-Karabagh Autonomous Province (NKAO) against the authorities of the Azerbaijan Soviet Socialist Republic (AzSSR) for denying the rights it was owed by virtue of the formal status of the NKAO as an autonomy within Azerbaijan. Abkhazia is another case in point. Here, before the recent ethnic cleansing directed against ethnic Georgians, ethnic Abkhaz constituted only 17 percent of the population. Were it not for the Soviet tradition of ethnic autonomies, it is doubtful whether the Abkhaz political leadership could have rationalized giving precedence to Abkhaz self-determination over the rights of the non-Abkhaz majority. A similar analysis can be made with regard to Marshal Josip Tito's Yugoslavia. Serbia, Croatia, and the other ethno-states that are forging their ethnic "purity" in the fire of war had already existed in embryonic form as federal republics "belonging to" the Serbs, Croats, and similar groups (with Kosova as an autonomous region belonging to the Albanians). Militarization of the Male Population Universal or near-universal male conscription, extensive military training within the educational system, and the widespread availability of hunting rifles-all typical of the Second World-are conducive to the militarization of political conflicts.

Proximate Causes of Armed Conflict in the Second World However important these and other predisposing factors may be, they do not go far in explaining why armed conflicts have arisen in some parts of the Second World and not in others. Among the special factors that bear examining in this

38

STEPHEN D. SHENFIELD

context are the problems associated with the breakdown of federal multiethnic states (the Soviet Union, Yugoslavia, Czechoslovakia, and possibly the Russian Federation) and problems specific to regions of the former USSR in which conflicts are linked to traditional social and ethnic structures that survived the Soviet period-namely the Caucasus and Central Asia. Clash of Ethno-States Arising from Breakdown of Multiethnic States

Czechoslovakia's "velvet divorce" demonstrates that the breakdown of a multiethnic federal state does not need to generate armed conflict. Among the circumstances that secured a peaceful outcome in this case were the support for the break by dominant political forces in the Czech lands as well as in Slovakia, the lack of controversy about where to place the border between the two successor states, and the relatively small number of Slovaks living in Czech lands and of Czechs in Slovakia. These favorable conditions were absent in both the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia. In these two cases, the issue of borders was and remains highly controversial. Moreover, the successor states corresponding to the first-level administrative subdivisions of the old federal states were ethnically very heterogeneous (with a handful of exceptions, such as Armenia and Slovenia). Even though the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) may have fallen short of the unrealistic expectations imposed on it, it has had some moderating effect as a mechanism of "civilized divorce." The dispute over the Black Sea Fleet, for example, has dragged on for over two years without open violence. (There have been a few close misses, suggesting that good luck as well as diplomacy has played a part.) Another crucial contrast between the Soviet and the Yugoslav cases is that the leaders of ethnonationalist movements in the Yugoslav republics came to power and defined the identity of the new states in ethnic terms. Contrary to a common false stereotype, a comparable process has occurred in only a few ofthe post-Soviet states: Estonia, Latvia, the Transcaucasus, and, earlier, Moldova. Moreover, these are all small states on the periphery of the post-Soviet space. In the big core states-Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, and Kazakhstan-as well as in Central Asia proper, state identity was officially defmed at the outset primarily in terms of citizenship rather than ethnicity. Some measure of ambiguity admittedly clouds this official definition of a civic state identity, as reflected to a greater or lesser extent in each state in the institutionalized primacy granted to the titular nation and especially to its language. Moreover, there are alarming signs of the growing influence of political forces that defme state identity unequivocally in ethnic terms. Prospects for continued peace in the core postSoviet region depend crucially on whether this trend can be contained.6 If the breakup of a federal state is to avoid a continuing risk of armed conflict, the successor states must acquire full legitimacy within the borders corresponding to the internal administrative boundaries of the old federal units.

CONFLICT IN EAST EUROPE & THE FORMER USSR

39

This is not to take issue with the common argument that these borders were drawn arbitrarily on the map, often without regard to historical precedent, the pattern of ethnic settlement, or economic expediency. It is simply to recognize that the unchangeability of existing borders is the only principle capable of securing the consent of all successor states. 7 However, it is no easy matter to consolidate the legitimacy of successor states within inherited borders. After all, the appearance of these states was a powerful challenge to the international norm-entrenched during the Cold War but under duress more recently-that holds that existing states must remain intact and their borders unchanged. But if their own birth was illegitimate, why cannot they, in tum, give birth to illegitimate children? Alternatively, if the breakup of the old states is legitimized on the grounds that it inevitably accompanied the defeat of communism, does this argument not undermine the legitimacy of the borders between the successor states-drawn by communist rulers-and of most of the successor states themselves since they never existed (for example, the post-Soviet states of Central Asia) or existed only for very short periods (for example, Croatia, Ukraine, or the Transcaucasian states) except as components of the old communist federations? Two of the post-Soviet successor states-Georgia and Tajikistan-were born in an especially weak condition in terms of legitimacy, political cohesion, and institutional and material resources. Consequently, they rapidly proved to be unable to maintain even a bare minimum of public order, territorial integrity, and independence. To borrow a term commonly used in the Third World context, these were the first "failed states" of the post-Soviet space. 8 They may be joined by a third failed state, Azerbaijan, which has been deeply shaken by repeated military defeats in its war with Annenia, although it is potentially viable in peacetime because of its oil wealth. 9 Indeed, certain features of the failed state syndrome-such as the power of organized criminal groups, which the state seems incapable of counteracting-exist even in the core states, such as Ukraine and Russia, that in other ways remain relatively viable. The failed states of the post-Soviet space are comparable in many ways to the failed states of the Third World, such as Somalia, Liberia, and Afghanistan. Indeed, there is a very close interaction between the processes of dissolution in Tajikistan and in neighboring Afghanistan. One obvious, but perhaps temporary, difference between the former Soviet Union and most of the Third World is the ubiquitous presence of Russia, which is able and willing to fill power vacuums created by the implosion of failed states around its periphery and to reconstitute them as dependent satellites. Should the Russian Federation follow the Soviet Union along the path of disintegration, the war in Chechnya suggests that the process will be an extremely bloody one. In contrast to the cases of Czechoslovakia, the Soviet Union, and even Yugoslavia, the breakdown of Russia itself is clearly opposed by forces able and willing to apply massive force to defeat any challenges to the territorial integrity of the state.

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STEPHEN D. SHENFIELD

Traditional Structures Under Stress Many conflicts in the Caucasus, especially in the North Caucasus, and in Central Asia have roots in traditional social structures that survived the Soviet period, albeit in distorted and truncated forms. The Caucasus has always been a complex patchwork of small, tightly knit rural ethnic or kin communities that migrate often and struggle endlessly for limited natural resources, especially land. The ethnic communities are perceived as collective personalities, so that an offense against any individual has to be avenged as an offense committed by an entire community against another. This is a microscopic world unto itself, "anarchic," much as the larger world as seen through the eyes of realist international relations theorists. Only a strong imperial power intervening from outside has ever been able to impose order in this world. The interethnic conflicts that consume this world whenever imperial control slackens or retreats are down-upwards or micro-ethnic conflicts, with their roots in the smallest, fundamental groups of the community. This stands in contrast to the updownward interethnic conflicts generated by the clash of rival state-forming ethnonationalist movements. During the Soviet period, new tensions have accumulated in the Caucasus. First, rapid population growth and ecological degradation (destruction of woodlands, overgrazing, and similar factors) have heightened the pressure on the fragile mountain habitat. Second, ethnic communities that were repressed (for instance, the Cossacks) or deported by Stalin (for instance, the Chechens and Ingush) were able to seek restitution as the USSR collapsed, which propelled them into conflict with ethnic communities that earlier had gained from their illtreatment. This situation is the origin of the armed conflict between the Ingush, who returned from exile to claim their old lands, and the Ossets, who had taken possession of the Ingush lands after their deportation. 10 In Central Asia, tensions along ethnic lines (for example, Uzbek versus Tajik versus Kyrgyz) are ultimately less important than tensions between locally based clientele networks, such as the mahallas, that originate in the traditional social structures of the region. 11 The struggle for power and resources between groups of this kind, arrayed in shifting alliances, fueled the civil war in Tajikistan, although other political and ethnic factors were also significant. These groups are often confusingly referred to as "clans," but this term implies that they are organized strictly along lines of kinship, which is not so. 12 In many parts of Central Asia, as in the Caucasus, rapid population growth and ecological degradation (much of it caused by the cotton monoculture) have created great potential for group conflicts of all kinds by increasing pressure on resources, particularly land, water, housing, and employment. The violent clashes between Kyrgyz and Uzbeks in the Osh province of western Kyrgyzstan in the densely populated Fergana Valley grew out of a dispute over land for housing. 13

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41

New Types of Armed Conflict? New armed conflicts that do not closely resemble any of the main existing types of conflict may arise in the post-Soviet space. These may represent completely new types of conflict or types that have occurred only sporadically or so far been manifested only indirectly.

Armed Power Struggles Between Political Factions Armed clashes took place in Moscow in October 1993 between troops supporting President Boris Yeltsin and irregular forces supporting the old Supreme Soviet. It is at least conceivable that under certain circumstances these clashes might have set off a civil war in Russia between different political orientations. One option open to the parliamentary leaders (but not chosen by them) was to establish themselves as a rival government of Russia in one of the provincial cities sympathetic to their cause. If the armed forces had been successfully split, the two "capitals" could have become operational centers for the contending sides in a civil war. Something of the kind may yet come to pass.

Armed Struggles for Imperial Reconstitution Political actors in Moscow have been suspected of pursuing neoimperial goals in lending moral and material support in armed conflicts throughout the postSoviet space, including supporting secessionist movements in Georgia, Moldova, and other non-Russian successor states, and playing off Armenia against Azerbaijan. Nevertheless, Russia has not waged armed conflicts openly under the banner of imperial reconstitution. However, if more extreme Russian imperialist forces come to power, it is conceivable that this type of conflict could occur in the future. A typology of past and possible future armed conflicts is set out in Table 3.2.

Russta•s Role in Post-Soviet Armed Conflicts Apart from the war in Chechnya, Russia has not been a direct party to any postSoviet armed conflict, although it may play such a role if Russian-Ukrainian hostilities break out inside the Black Sea Fleet. However, Russia's indirect role has been crucial, and the nature of this role has been shifting and ambiguous.14 Russia publicly presents itself, and to varying degrees has acted, as a benevolent and nonpartisan mediator and peacekeeper interested only in halting and preventing armed conflicts in the zone surrounding its borders. The typical pattern in conflicts outside the borders of the Russian Federation (Moldova, Georgia-Ossetia, Abkhazia) has been the negotiation of an agreement between Russia and both warring sides that serves as the legal basis for trilateral

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STEPHEN D. SHENFIELD

peacekeeping. Russia provides the commander and the largest component of the peacekeeping force; each of the other two sides (for example, Moldova and the Dniester Republic, Georgia and Ossetia) contributes a smaller contingent. 15 Russia has vetoed proposals for the participation in peacekeeping of additional states outside the post-Soviet space (for example, Romania and Bulgaria in Moldova) as well as proposals for Ukraine's participation.

Table 3.2

Types of Civil Conflict in the Second World

Type of Civil Conflict

Defining Criterion of Groups in Conflict

Ethno-state formation

Goals

Ideologies

Ethnic nationalism

State

Ethnic

Neoimperial

Political

State formation

Neoimperialism and ethnic nationalism

Political power

Political

State power

Various

Inter-clan

Clan

State power

None

Micro-ethnic

Ethnic

Possession of resources (land, water, etc.)

None

There are other respects in which "peacekeeping" a la Russe diverges dramatically from the standard UN practice referred to by John Mackinlay as the ''first generation." Commanders have force at their disposal that is far superior to that of the warring parties and are given a free hand to use it as they see fit to separate opposing forces and suppress violators of the cease-fire. That is, "peacekeeping" is understood to include coercive peacemaking. The basis of Russia's operations in the Osset-Ingush conflict and in Tajikistan has moved-in different directions-from this trilateral pattern. The intervention in the Osset-Ingush conflict, confined to the territory of the Russian Federation, has been conducted unilaterally as an internal police operation. In Tajikistan the machinery of the CIS was used to legitimize intervention, with small contingents from Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan

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joining Russian "peacekeeping forces" on the basis of a multilateral agreement. This is clearly the preferred model for the future. Russia's self-presentation as a neutral mediator and peacekeeper is not totally false, but it does not come close to the whole truth. In certain phases of one or another armed conflict, Moscow has given substantial, if unavowed, aid to the side it favors as more "loyal" to Russia. In the Karabagh conflict, the side Russia favors has tended in recent times to be Armenia (though a reversal of roles could occur if loyalist forces gain clear predominance in Azerbaijan). In the Georgian wars, Russia has backed the Osset and Abkhaz secessionists; in the Osset-lngush conflict, Russia was again initially on the Osset side; in Moldova, the Dniester Republic survived under the protection of Russia's Fourteenth Army; and finally, in Tajikistan, Russia and Uzbekistan restored to power the postcommunist nomenklatum briefly ousted by the lslamo-democratic opposition alliance. As a rough generalization, we can say that Russia first helps the side it favors up to the point at which a politico-military result it considers satisfactory has been achieved. It then shifts to the role of an impartial peacekeeper, prepared to use force even against those maverick extremist elements of the previously favored side that are determined to fight for a result better than the one secured for them by Moscow. For instance, Russia was content to freeze the GeorgianOsset conflict once Tbilisi was willing to reconcile itself to the de facto autonomy of South Ossetia under Russian military protection. It was prepared formally to respect the territorial integrity of Georgia and so did not press for the unification of the two Ossetias outside Georgia (either within the Russian Federation or as an "independent" state). Osset politicians and others who insisted on continuing the fight for this larger goal were forced into submission by the predominantly Russian "peacekeepers."17 The degree to which Russia has been inclined to become involved has varied greatly from one post-Soviet conflict to another, depending on how closely it feels its vital interests are touched. It is useful in this regard to make a fourfold geographical division. • Conflicts within the borders of the Russian Federation that pose a direct threat to internal stability and state integrity. The only major such cases have been the Osset-Ingush conflict and Chechnya. Other areas of the North Caucasus also pose an imminent threat, particularly Dagestan. Conflicts of this type elsewhere are more hypothetical but are still seriously discussed, for example, in and around Tatarstan. • Conflicts outside the Russian Federation but immediately on the other side of its borders. Examples to date include Abkhazia and Ossetia. Potential conflicts in Crimea, northeastern Estonia, and northern Kazakhstan would fall into this category. Pertinent factors include whether areas with a predominantly Russian-speaking population are involved and whether there is a danger of direct spillover of the conflict into adjacent areas within Russia (for example, through

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the engagement of ethnic groups that straddle the border, such as the Lezgis). • Conflicts not immediately contiguous to the border of the Russian Federation but still within a post-Soviet zone of vital Russian interests. The only such example so far is the Moldova-Dniester conflict. The rest of Ukraine and Kazakhstan would fall into this category. • Conflicts within the post-Soviet space but outside the zone of vital Russian interests. Russia has intervened as "peacemaker" in one major conflict on the post-Soviet periphery-in Tajikistan-but this intervention has been highly controversial. The expediency of withdrawing to some fallback line nearer the zone of vital interests, such as the border between Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan, is often discussed. However, there is another peripheral conflict in which Russia long avoided direct intervention-the Karabagh war. Russia took no action even when a CIS-brokered peace settlement, of which it was a co-guarantor, broke down. (The other co-guarantor, Kazakhstan, also did not intervene.) Russia is prepared to deploy a peacekeeping force to Karabagh in the event that a new settlement is reached but not to impose peace by force.

Russia and the United Nations in Post-Soviet Peacekeeping Russia is conducting a sustained diplomatic campaign to persuade the United Nations as well as the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) to recognize the CIS as a regional international organization mandated to carry out peacekeeping operations within "its" region-that is, the postSoviet space-and to contribute to the costs of such operations. 17 Such UN recognition might, it has been suggested, be accompanied by limited UN involvement on the ground, such as the use of military observers. Although this would not allow the United Nations to contest the operational control exercised by the CIS-meaning mainly by Russia-the organization might fulfill useful symbolic and monitoring functions. As one analyst has argued: A more visible UN presence ... can reassure Russia that the international community is actively committed to ensuring regional stability ... encourage Russia to act within the framework of international norms of behavior, [and] confirm the national sovereignty of the other states of the former Soviet Union. 18

Without exaggerating the real impact limited UN engagement could have upon post-Soviet developments, this approach may be the most constructive and realistic. This point becomes especially clear when one considers the constraints under which the United Nations has to operate in the former Soviet Union. The obstruction of UN efforts in Rwanda by the United States and Presidential Decision Directive 25 on UN peacekeeping signed by Bill Clinton in May 1994 confirm that the United States is determined not to pay the high price in blood

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and treasure that would be needed for extensive military involvement in regions in which it does not have vital interests. There can be little doubt that the U.S. foreign policy elite does not perceive the non-Russian Soviet successor states (with the possible exception of Ukraine) as constituting a region of vital U.S. interests, at least once the issue of nuclear proliferation is resolved. Other Western powers have the same viewpoint. The United Nations cannot take any action that Russia would see as threatening Russia's vital interests in its "near abroad," meaning the former Soviet states on Russia's periphery. After all, Russia still possesses a veto on the Security Council (as does China, which also has important interests in Central Asia). Therefore, the only possible alternative to a low-level auxiliary UN role in the post-Soviet space is not more active and independent UN involvement there but rather the unprecedented step of completely abandoning any right to observe a vast region, which would debase the UN claim to universalism. An auxiliary UN role may nevertheless prove infeasible if Russia's policy in the near abroad develops too far in either of two directions. One could be toward open imperialism, making even a limited UN role an unwelcome infringement on the sovereignty of the reconstituted empire; the other direction could be toward isolationism, entailing strategic withdrawal from a large part of the post-Soviet space. In the first case, the United Nations would be forced simply to stay out; in the second, it could no longer rely on Russia to take the main brunt of maintaining stability. In cooperating with Russia in post-Soviet peacekeeping, it would be highly desirable for the United Nations not to make vaguely defined commitments that would, in effect, give Russia carte blanche but rather to retain as much freedom of choice as possible in the various situations that may arise. Monitoring would lose all real meaning if Russia were guaranteed advance approval from the international community for any action it might take in the post-Soviet space. Naturally, making wise choices presupposes a sustained effort by the United States and the UN Security Council to acquire accurate information that would permit the exercise of independent judgments concerning, for example, the likely consequences for regional stability of the opposition coming to power in Tajikistan. 19 One important way the international community can constrain Russia's tendency to use peacekeeping to reassert hegemonic control over the post-Soviet space is to take the CIS seriously as a multilateral institution. Although Russia inevitably takes the leading role in the CIS, its domination of CIS mechanisms is not so overwhelming as to justify identifying the CIS simply as Russia, which is often done. Cooperation between the United Nations and the CIS should amount to something more than just cooperation between the United Nations and Russia. The other CIS member states, especially the more influential ones such as Ukraine and Kazakhstan, should at least be consulted and their views taken into account. They should be encouraged to participate on a modest scale in mediation efforts and in peacekeeping operations. 20

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The problem of finding an optimal role for the United Nations in the postSoviet space may be little different from the same problem in other regions that fall within the sphere of influence of one or another great power. Therefore, it might be fruitful to consider in parallel the problem of the United Nations and the CIS in Central Asia and that of the United Nations and the Organization of American States in Central America, which Cristina Eguizabal discusses in Chapter 10. What useful auxiliary functions might the United Nations have undertaken in Sri Lanka, where India, the regional hegemon, inserted itself as peacekeeper, or in Liberia, where Nigeria did the same? Another similar case is that of Northern Ireland, where Britain bears the main brunt of trying to keep or impose the peace. The general problem is inherent in the unequal distribution of power in the international system, a phenomenon that is extremely unlikely to go away in the foreseeable future.

Notes I. For an account of the atrocities committed against the Ingush, see Irina Dementyeva, ''The Ingush Tragedy," lzvestiya, November 30, 1992. On the suffering caused by the conflict in Moldova, see Human Rights in Moldova: The Turbulent Dniester (New York: Helsinki Watch, March 1993 ). For a broader discussion of warfare against civilians in the post-Soviet context, see Stephen D. Shenfield, "The Potential for Genocide in the Former USSR," ISG Newsletter (Institute for the Study of Genocide), no.IO(Spring 1993): 10-11. 2. See the December 1992 and January 1993 issues of the report of the Center for Ethnopolitical Research in Moscow, directed by Emil Payin, Socio-Political Situation in the Post-Soviet World 35, no. 10: 81 and Barnett R. Rubin, ''The Fragmentation of Tajikistan," Survival (Winter 1993-1994): 71-91: "Some Gharmi [refugees] who tried to cross the Amu Darya [River into Afghanistan] were shot by Russian border guards, and hundreds drowned while crossing. Tens of thousands camped out in freezing weather with no shelter, food or water supplies." One incident (on December 9, 1992) is reported in which about 2,000 refugees were shot by Russian border guards. 3. Tajik-Uzbek conflict in western Tajikistan and eastern Uzbekistan, renewed Uzbek-Kyrgyz conflict in the Osh region of western Kyrgyzstan, and Kyrgyz-Tajik conflict between the inhabitants of Batken County of Kyrgyzstan and Isfarin County of Tajikistan. See Umirserik Kasenov, director of the Institute of Strategic Research under the president of the Republic of Kazakhstan, Central Asia and Russia: The Tho my Path Towards Equal Relations (Almaty: Institute of Strategic Research, 1994), 18. 4. Scenarios often link Slavic-Turkic conflicts in northern Kazakhstan and in Tatarstan andBashkortostan, very close to the Russia-Kazakhstan border, since Kazakhs, Tatars, and Bashkirs are all Turkic peoples. There are two possible exceptions to the generalization that the potential for armed ethnic conflict in Russia is low outside the Caucasus. First, armed Cossacks may undertake ethnic cleansing of Armenian and other Caucasian minorities in areas of southern Russia contiguous with the Caucasus. Second, an armed secessionist struggle is conceivable, with outside backing (possibly from China), in the Republic of Tuva on the Siberian-Mongolian border. 5. Many Russians resent the system of ethno-territorial autonomies, holding that

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it has systematically discriminated against Russians as a specific ethnic group. This resentment is one of the sources of Russian nationalism. For a recent exposition of this viewpoint, see A. S. Barsenkov, A. I. Vdovin, and V. A. Koretskii, Russkii vopros v natsional'noi politike XX vek (Moscow: Moskovskii rabochii, 1993). 6. For a discussion of the problem of defining state identity in the case of Russia, see Stephen D. Shenfield, "Post-Soviet Russia in Search of Identity," in Douglas W. Blum (ed.), Russia's Future: Consolidation or Disintegration? (Boulder: Westview Press, 1994), 5-16. 7. In a very few cases, one can envisage an exchange of territories that might conceivably be acceptable to both states involved. There has been speculation to the effect that in the event of the unification of Moldova with Romania, Romania might cede territory currently under control of the Dniester Republic to Ukraine in exchange for equivalent areas of predominantly Romanian and Moldovan ethnic settlements on the Ukrainian side of the border. Such a tidying up of the map would rid both Romania and Ukraine of ethnic minority problems without significant loss of territory to either. However, the Ukrainian leaders are loath to contemplate such an exchange because they view rigid adherence to the principle of unchangeable borders as their best defense against potential territorial claims by Russia, especially with respect to Crimea. 8. For a discussion of the problem of failed states in the Third World, see Gerald B. Helman and Steven R. Ratner, "Saving Failed States," Foreign Policy, no. 89 (Winter 1992-1993): 3-20. 9. See the New York Times, June 2, 1994, A1, A10. 10. Another crisis associated with the return of a people deported by Stalin, one that may yet take violent form, is that building up in Crimea around the return of the Crimean Tatars. The judgment that only a strong external power can impose order in the Caucasus may seem insulting to the peoples living there. It is not meantto be. Caucasian politicians who sincerely seek to establish a secure peace in their little world through their own unaided efforts face a task analogous to that of creating a world government in the broader world. 11. For an analysis of the structures of traditionalism that have survived the Soviet period in Central Asia, see the work by the Russian ethnographer Sergei P. Poliakov, Everyday Islam: Religion and Tradition in Rural Central Asia (edited with an Introduction by Martha Brill Olcott) (Armonk: M. E. Sharpe, 1992). 12. This discussion applies to Central Asia proper. Among the Kazakhs, clan groups based on kinship, the three "hordes," or juz, retain some social significance and might enter into open political or even military conflict, although in the near future interethnic conflict between Slavs and Kazakhs is much more likely. See "Natsional 'noe stroitel' stvo v Kazakhstane," Nezavisimaya gazeta, AprilS, 1994: 5. 13. However, population pressure was not a significant factor in the war in Tajikistan, where the areas of fiercest fighting did not correspond to the areas of densest population. 14. For other critical discussions by American and Russian specialists of Russia's peacekeeping role in the former Soviet Union, see: Suzarme Crow, "The Theory and Practice of Peacekeeping in the Former USSR," Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty Research Report 1, no. 37, September 19, 1992: 31-40; Pavel K. Baev, "Peace-keeping as a Challenge to European Borders," Security Dialogue, 24, no. 2, June 1993: 137-150; Maxim Shashenkov, "Russian Peacekeeping in the 'Near Abroad'," Survival36, no. 3, Autumn 1994: 46--69; Susan L. Clark, "Russia in a Peacekeeping Role," in Leon Aron and Kenneth M. Jensen (eds. ), The Emergence ofRussian Foreign Policy (Washington, D.C.: United States Institute of Peace Press, 1994), 119-150; and A. Raevsky and I.N. Vorob' ev, Russian Approaches to Peace Keeping Operations, United Nations Institute

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for DisannamentResearch Paper No. 28 (New York and Geneva: United Nations, 1994). 15. To be precise, the agreement was signed and the peacekeeping contingent was provided not by South Ossetia, the direct party to the conflict on the Osset side, but by North Ossetia, which Moscow regarded as the more loyal and reliable of the two Ossetias. This example illustrates the flexible ad hoc approach Russia takes to legitimize its interventions. 16. These assessments of the way Russian peacekeeping operations have functioned on the ground are based primarily on the monthly reports of the Moscow Center for Ethnopolitical Research, Socio-Political Situation in the Post-Soviet World. 17. See Suzanne Crow, "RussiaPromotes the CIS as an International Organization," Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty Research Report 3, no. 11 (March 18, 1994): 33-38. 18. Roland Dannreuther, Creating New States in Central Asia, Adelphi Paper 288 (London: Brassey's Ltd., for the International Institute for Strategic Studies, March 1994), 69. 19. Without effective use of area expertise, the UN is helpless. On a field trip to Tajikistan in October and November 1993, SarahLum, JaratChopra, and John Mackinlay of Brown University's Thomas J. Watson Jr. Institute for International Studies found that the UN observers deployed there were completely isolated by their ignorance of local languages and conditions. 20. In this context, the murky issue of Ukraine's possible participation in the peacekeeping operation on its doorstep in Moldova's Dniester region is of interest. Kishinev wanted Ukraine to be involved, and Kiev was considering the option of claiming a role but decided against it for various reasons. One reason was rumored to have been intimidation by Russia (in the person of General Lebed, commander of the Fourteenth Army). A stance the Western powers might consider adopting in this case is to support UN -CIS cooperation conditioned on the diplomatic and military engagement of Ukraine alongside Russia. However, this would require a change in Ukraine's stance since the only kind of post-Soviet peacekeeping Kiev regards as legitimate is that carried out directly by the United Nations.

• Part 2 • The New Operational Landscape of Civil War

• 4. Military Responses to Complex Emergencies JOHN MACKINLAY

In its first forty-five years, the United Nations developed as an outstanding forum for international conflict resolution through diplomacy. During the same period, its capability for directing armed operations by land, sea, and air languished, and its military staff was poorly developed in comparison with its international civil servants. As celebrations for its fifthieth anniversary begin, the United Nations faces a crisis of institutional identity. Cold War rivalry in the Security Council has diminished, and the UN focus has shifted to complex emergencies in which appalling humanitarian disasters are exacerbated by the collapse of government and state security. In the face oflawlessness and chaos, the UN's diplomatic skills have failed to protect its humanitarian agencies and peacekeepers. The crisis for the United Nations is whether it should keep trying to resolve conflict by diplomacy alone or develop a competence for military operations that would allow it to police its writ more effectively. Traditionalists continue to advance the diplomatic approach in combination with old-fashioned peacekeeping. They do not recognize the unusual characteristics of intracommunal violence and the need to guarantee agreements on the ground with more than a symbolic military presence. The danger for the United Nations is that its resolutions are being overturned in areas of conflict by small, selfishly motivated "gangs" whose members do not represent the needs or wishes of the majority of the afflicted populations or of the international community. Unless it can deploy a more effective instrument, UN authority will be seriously diminished with the rise of intracommunal violence. In this chapter I show how the traditionalist approach is harming UN credibility and blocking a realistic response to the needs of this decade, which are not the same as those of the Cold War era. I explain how military staffs and humanitarian practitioners have begun to develop their own rudimentary techniques to deal with complex emergencies within quickly changing UN multifunctional operations. But I also argue that the military cannot succeed on its own. A more coordinated approach is needed so that future UN multifunctional responses can overcome the debilitating effects of 51

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interagency rivalry and lack of cohesion in pursuing what should be common objectives.

The Characteristics of Intracommunal Violence Because complex emergencies usually involve intracommunal violence, successful aid becomes a conceptual and an operational problem. In the past there were widely accepted principles for UN peacekeeping; by rigorously applying these principles, missions that were unlikely to succeed were weeded out of the Security Council's agenda. These principles were developed and first exercised by Brian Urquhart as long ago as 1973. 1 With the benefit of their experiences in various buffer zones in the Middle East, UN officials maintained that to be successful the first generation of peace support operations should: • • • • •

Be organized and authorized by the United Nations Deploy with the consent of the warring parties Act impartially Receive sufficient military assets and finances from member states Not use force except in self-defense2

Universal consent of the parties was the sine qua non of UN peacekeeping operations. Such consent demonstrated the strength of the political agreement that underpinned peace processes, and in conflict zones it allowed peacekeepers to operate with authority and freedom. In the UN' s earlier experiences, consent had usually been pledged with a degree of assurance by the leaders involved in negotiations. Whether these leaders represented states or the military arm of a community, by and large they exercised effective control over their constituencies. The criteria for success have become harder to define since 1990. With the end of the Cold War the nature of global conflict did not change, but the focus of the Security Council shifted to intracommunal violence, very often in a society that had disintegrated into anarchy. Anticipating success has become more difficult because the long-standing principles, if strictly upheld, would now debar most UN efforts from participation in post-Cold War emergencies. In particular, the quality of "consent" has altered. The United Nations now deals directly at every level with insurgent forces or factions, within states rather than between states. These parties have different characteristics from the accountable parties of an earlier era. In a collapsed state such as Somalia, there are no government structures; those who lead the parties in the dispute are warlords or guerrilla fighters. Few who now sit at negotiating tables in the customary peace-brokering venues such as Geneva and Paris are accountable to anyone other than themselves, nor do they understand statesmanship or the rule of international law. Above all, none can

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exercise reliable control over local leaders who comprise their factions. A way from the comparative civility and comfort of the negotiating table, the immediate survival needs of a local faction commander are beyond the scope and detail of a peace process. Within a faction there may be many smaller armed gangs. After long periods of insurgency, these groups become geographically and politically isolated. To ensure their personal credibility and survival in these remote places, gang leaders must protectthe group, revenge its defeats, exterminate rival groups, and organize the group's day-to-day needs-some of which might be totally selfish. These concerns are not usually addressed by the political processes in Geneva and New York. Nevertheless, for gang leaders and their followers, the imperatives of survival at the scene of conflict continue to take priority over the conditions of a peace agreement. Until a more powerful force, such as a supergang or an effective third party, can impose itself in their neighborhood, military leaders at every level of a faction will continue to respond more to local pressures than to distant overall commitments. Examples of effective intervention by a supergang are the Khmer Rouge in the Cambodian province of Paolin and Charles Taylor's National Patriotic Forces of Liberia (NPLF), which in the early1990s controlled large areas and imposed a form of government over parts of Liberia. Examples of third-party intervention are, for example, the Unified Task Force (UNITAF) in Somalia, the regular armies of a group of concerned regional states such as the Economic Community of West African States Monitoring Group (ECOMOG), and the French forces in Rwanda from June to August 1994. At the most senior level, faction leaders might appear to have committed themselves to crucial agreements, but in reality they probably have no intention of respecting the agreements, nor the control over their subordinate gangs that would allow fulfillment of an agreement. In many cases negotiations have been used as a subterfuge. They offer the faction leaders a platform from which to enjoy both media attention and a period of operational respite in which quiet reinforcement and replenishment might be achieved. Unless the top faction leaders can be placed under overwhelming pressure and at the same time be able to enforce their orders throughout the whole area under their supposed control, their local gang leaders will seldom respond to conditions arranged in the distant luxury of the negotiating venue. In particular, post-Cold War peace agreements failed because they depended on the successful disarmament and rehabilitation of the faction fighters. In Cambodia, Angola, and Liberia for example, UN -brokered peace agreements were out of touch with the concerns of local factions. Without effectively disarming the warlords, it was naive to imagine that the rituals of an election would somehow transfer control to an elected government or transform a collapsed state into a working liberal democracy. Why should faction fighters surrender their weapons in an environment oflawlessness when weapons are the only means to ensure their survival? UN-brokered agreements failed to create a situation in which carrying arms was unnecessary and individuals could survive

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without being preyed upon by armed elements that had evaded the conditions of the peace agreement. In any war zone that has been active for more than a decade, there will almost inevitably be a surplus of concealed weapons that will evade voluntary disarmament unless this condition is backed by some other overwhelming pressure. In these cases the consent of all the warring parties cannot be regarded as universally reliable. The uncertainty of consent has become a fatally disabling characteristic for the second generation3 of post-Cold War missions for UN forces, whose earlier experience had been developed in the ordered environment of an established buffer zone. Institutionally, the United Nations had encountered this condition of uncertain consent, notably in the Congo and in Lebanon. But the world organization failed to cope with it successfully or even to learn any significant lessons to ensure that future forces did not fail for the same reasons. Traditionally organized UN peacekeeping forces have no inherent capability to create the conditions for their success or, more significantly, to restore a situation in which consent for their activities wavers or evaporates. In the past, when consent was withdrawn and a peace process collapsed, its restoration was negotiated at a higher political level. Now, faced with tasks in which consent to its activities is unreliable and variable from gang to gang in each district, the authority of central negotiations under UN auspices is diluted. A Security Council resolution that has overwhelming support from the international community and most of the belligerents can still be challenged locally for selfish, even venal, reasons by unrepresentative but well-armed insurgents. 4 Acting out their private agenda, bloody-minded insurgents have created schisms, derailed peace processes, and disrupted humanitarian relief in Cambodia, Liberia, Angola, Somalia, and the former Yugoslavia. Even when well-armed U.S. and European troops were involved, UN missions with the widest political support could not protect themselves, local civilians, and the various elements of the peace-restoring process from small groups of fighters that evaded the conditions of various agreements. In the multifaceted and dangerous circumstances of a complex emergency, peacekeepers now face a doctrinal void in which the principles that dictated their previous success are invalid. The United Nations cannot go on using the peacekeeping formula for situations that amount to something far more than peacekeeping but that fall short of enforcement. Changing criteria for success and failing to recognize and adapt to these criteria have brought the world organization to a crossroads. It must now find a way to deal effectively with a new generation of tasks, or it must withdraw from military assignments in complex emergencies.

Obstacles to Doctrinal Development Although UN peace forces had been involved before 1990 in "complex emergencies," defined as humanitarian disasters and accompanied by the collapse of

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government and state security, the problems raised by this shift of operational focus were neither anticipated nor understood. Many peacekeeping "experts" had developed an absolutist approach, derived from UN buffer zone experiences; consequently, they refused to recognize the new gray area of contingencies that now faced them. This lack of clear vision retarded the development of a more sophisticated response. UN experts of the Cold War period and peacekeeping analysts in general were poorly qualified to react to the approaching doctrinal void. Many did not appreciate that the UN' s new generation of peace support operations were failing for practical reasons, regardless of their widespread political support. The traditionalist view failed to distinguish the conditions of the buffer zone experience from the challenges of dealing with armed factions in large, ill-defined areas. This lobby group encouraged UN officials in New York and some troop contributors to continue the peacekeeping approach, against the advice of local practitioners of every kind who warned that a UN presence would be challenged. As a result, ill-prepared UN forces were sent to Cambodia and Angola anticipating best-case scenarios; in reality, their role required more than a symbolic presence, as in previous buffer zone experiences. The same traditionalist insiders also influenced the academic conference circuit, which might otherwise have provided a better informed discussion of options for handling complex emergencies. Many traditional experts were unaware of the range of well-tried civil and military techniques that had evolved beyond the aegis of the United Nations during the same period when European armies were coping, with varying degrees of success, with postcolonial adjustments. In most cases colonial handovers of government were extremely negative experiences for both the former colonial powers and the newly emergent states, but the lessons learned were valuable. These included developing procedures for protecting threatened minorities and keeping the peace in circumstances in which local government and civil order had completely broken down.5 This expertise, developed by a small group of professional North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) armies, was never regarded as politically acceptable or relevant by the narrow element of the UN headquarters staff and the "peace studies" school of academics. Without incentive to cross-fertilize these hard-learned lessons and UN needs, the lessons remained unexplained and unpromulgated. Now, however, these lessons have assumed greater significance in the search for a successful response to complex emergencies. If a new approach were to be developed, the first obstacle to overcome was the mind-set of traditionalists who were the key communicators with academia and who also acted as advisers to the political elements of the United Nations. Because of the traditionalists' reluctance to see complex emergencies as a new development, the UN' s first steps in addressing the doctrinal void were taken by practitioners-officials, staff officers, and consultants outside the closed circle of UN experts-who were directly concerned with the problems of the post-Cold War era. The Secretary-General's 1992 book, An Agenda for Peace, was a vital but rather tardy spur to recognize the need for change. For practitioners the book lacked conceptual detail; in

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particular, the epithet "peace enforcement" launched a concept that had no universally agreed definition nor any practical procedures for implementation. Efforts to develop a better response were encouraged by Brian Urquhart,6 who argued that impartial rapid-reaction forces could address some of the current weaknesses in the UN peacekeeping approach. Although for practical reasons major powers blocked his concept for standby forces, the significance of this proposal was that Urquhart used his authority as a former UN official to focus public attention on a doctrinal gap in UN response options. In particular, he demanded better organized UN forces that could function effectively in civil violence, especially when this amounted to more than peacekeeping. 7 Events had already shown that when the United Nations adopted a traditional approach in these circumstances, its peacekeepers were unable to deal effectively with single-minded factions. Urquhart believed this failure, in addition to inflicting terrible suffering, also diminished UN credibility. Traditional peacekeeping was never intended to address this type of violence. Although in the past peacekeepers had carried weapons and evolved basic rules for their use, this did not mean they could take effective action. Traditional peacekeepers and governments had approved deployment of weapons on the assumption that UN troops would not be placed in a situation in which token weaponry would be needed to meet concrete dangers. If this were to change, the international community would have to define a new area of collective activity that had emerged between peacekeeping and enforcement8 and also explain what was required of UN military contingents. Despite the reluctance by the traditionalist lobby to address the need for change,9 by 1993 leading military nations had begun to develop concepts for what most saw as a new era of military contingencies. The British, U.S., French, Dutch, Spanish, and Australian armies produced their own field manuals that began to address the military role in a complex emergency. In May 1992, a list of second-generation contingencies: entitled A Draft Concept of Second Generation Multinational Operations 1993 was published by Brown University's Watson Institute for International Studies and served as a prototype; by 1994, concept development staffs of leading military nations had produced several expanded versions. Overall, these lists of contingencies represented an important step in understanding the characteristics of intracommunal violence, and they provided officials and diplomats with more relevant definitions and a terminology. However, these prototypes were designed mainly for national contingents as manuals for survival, focusing on tactical problems. They explained how to endure, not how to succeed. They were not international in their approach, and they failed to describe a mechanism by which the disparate elements of the force couldacttogetherto achieve a long-term objective. As demonstrated throughout this book, military forces that find themselves in a complex emergency are part of an operation that is multifunctional in character; as such, the problems of coordination are crucial to the success of the individual components of an

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operation and to the operation as a whole. In addition to the military, there will be humanitarian relief agencies, civil administrators, human rights officials, and a panoply of private relief organizations. Overall success involves a wider, force-level approach in which the military is only one element. The military cannot dictate a successful outcome on its own; its task is to create the conditions for others to succeed. At present no concept draws all of these elements into a single, long-term strategy. The elements cannot succeed in isolation; a multifunctional approach is needed.

Multifunctional Forces Defining the Multifunctional Force Since 1948 the international community, usually under the auspices of the United Nations, has responded to emergencies and threats to security with three different force levels. The enforcement operations in Korea and the Gulf provide examples of a high-level response; the UN forces in the Congo, the former Yugoslavia, Cambodia, and Somalia are examples of a mid-level one; and the interpositional forces and observers on the Golan Heights and in Cyprus represent a low-level response. The aggregated figures of all deployments during this period indicate three distinct numerical categories: high-level forces numbering approximately 100,000 troops, mid-level forces at about 10,000 troops, and low-level forces at around 1,000 troops. Each force level has different military capabilities and limitations. Highlevel forces are authorized and deployed to enforce, possibly by using all necessary means, against an aggressor. The target of their operations will assume the characteristics of an enemy. Such international forces do not act with the consent of the enemy or conduct themselves impartially. Force command structures are less multinational and may be dominated by a single nation. The military elements have the capabilities and organization· of a task force composed of warships, combat aircraft, and offensive armored units; they operate in an active war zone from which the civil population should have been evacuated. Thus far, mid-level forces have been international in command and composition. Their multifunctional character gives them more flexibility than traditionally organized forces and allows them to be deployed on a number of civil roles to assist with mediation or to protect and evacuate threatened populations. Mid-level forces contain military elements, UN civil agencies, UN aid agencies, and-usually operating in the same area for much the same purpose-international nongovernmental organizations (NGOs). The military element may include some armor and air-support capability, and it usually has an offshore element deployed by each contributing nation to sustain units subordinated to the UN command. The task will require more than a symbolic presence; the response

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units should be organized to anticipate violent challenges and to use force. But when used, military force must be employed impartially, not punitively, to uphold the mandate. The success of an accompanying peace process probably relies more on the ability of the UN's civil elements to achieve a long-term political plan than on its military strength. Low-level forces are largely a symbolic military deployment of the traditional peacekeeping variety. If weapons are carried, they are usually light arms and are exclusively for self-protection. The military tasks are to witness, monitor, and supervise. There is no expectation that UN troops will have to restore situations that have broken down or that their activities will be seriously challenged. If conditions alter and consent is withdrawn or becomes unreliable, UN troops will not have the capability by themselves to reestablish a peaceful situation on the ground. The level of the UN response is dictated not so much by the nature of the expected need or the size of the host country at the epicenter of a disaster but by the degree of consent expected in the operational zone. For example, although the UN Disengagement Observer Force (UNDOF) on the Golan Heights acts between two powerful and implacable enemies, its authorized strength is only slightly over a thousand troops because all the parties consent to its presence. The UN Operation in Somalia (UNOS OM) II, which has worked between factions that are barely more than family gangs in Somalia, had an authorized level of around 28,000 troops--or more than twenty times larger than UNDOF on the Golan Heights. The difference in scale reflects variations in the reliability of local consent. However, in the case of Somalia, the Security Council decided in November 1994 to withdraw all troops no later than March 31, 1995. The varying conditions of consent and impartiality that dictate force levels can be summarized as involving low-level operations, in which military presence is underwritten by the universal consent of all involved; mid-level operations, in which consent is in doubt but the UN multinational force must continue to uphold the mandate with impartiality; and high-level operations, in which a mandate is enforced without consent in a biased manner against a selected state or belligerent. At low and mid levels impartiality must continue to be maintained in the interpretation of the mandate. In a mid-level scenario, UN soldiers must uphold the mandate regardless of which party is challenging them. Legitimacy must remain intact at all levels. When force is used, impartiality may seem to have been lost, especially from the point of view of the party subjected to the force. However, if legitimacy is intact, the appearance of impartiality can be restored. The mid-level response, in which consent is in doubt and the UN force numbers in the tens of thousands, is the military force that is most likely to be appropriate for UN efforts in complex emergencies through a multifunctional operation. A high-level force numbering hundreds of thousands of troops with warships and aircraft on the scale of Operation Desert Storm has to be stronger than the sum of all the local forces and civilian population in its operational theater.

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The disparity in strength vis-a-vis local elements is so great that the force can behave like an army of occupation and can subjugate and dictate without regard for opposition or popularity. It seldom has to live with the consequences of its own destructive actions. But the multifunctional force or mid-level response is statistically a more likely option, particularly when consent is in doubt and international consensus is not strong enough to take a tougher line and mobilize the resources to enforce a mandate. In recent examples, mid-level forces have carried out a mixed mandate, involving the possibility of local enforcement as well as mediation, with a much smaller strength of 15,000 to 20,000 troops. Their relative weakness compared to local forces and the surrounding population as well as the longer duration of their operations mean they cannot subjugate an area nor disregard the impact of their actions. Isolated and without assured consent, these groups' comparatively small size limits the scale of their purely military actions. The military element should support civil agencies and protect their day-to-day functions. If the situation deteriorates and force has to be used, the commander must use it carefully, in a consistent and discriminating manner that takes account of longterm consequences. These limitations emphasize the essentially different nature of the mid-level force compared with both the high- and low-level options. The mid-level force is not symbolic, and it has enough of an offensive capability to ensure that it does not have to give way to capricious and unlawful challenges by local schisms. But at the same time, it is a vulnerable structure that has to use its limited offensive capability in a way that does not alienate it from the main body of citizens in the area.

Limitations of Multifunctional Forces Thus far, multifunctional forces have been assembled in the same ad hoc manner as those of previous peacekeeping operations. In the very small sample of case histories since the end of the Cold War, these deployments have been badly planned and fundamentally flawed in their composition. To move from the essentials required for military survival to conditions in which a multifunctional force can succeed requires an understanding of the characteristics of civil and military elements. There are tensions between the inherent weaknesses of the structure of the force and its task; at present, the instrument is too fragile. There are too many conflicting interests in a multifunctional force. To improve its structure these interests must be reconciled, and the key agencies must submit to a common procedure in which autonomy will be diminished. Although the overall commander of the force appears to be holding the reins of power, in the field there are many limitations to his authority. Basic procedures are needed to link the civil and military elements together as a working instrument and to allow the senior person appointed by the United Nations at the operational level to plan for the elements of the force to act in concert.

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Outside Influences on Operational Decisions

A multifunctional force wiii need additional support-usually from offshore ships and aircraft-in order to provide intelligence, surveiiiance information, casualty evacuation, and emergency reinforcements. These assets are not provided by the United Nations, and when deployed by individual nations, they are not part of the UN contingent or under the control of the UN commander. Nevertheless, these assets exert an overriding influence on the operations of that particular national contingent. A withdrawal or refusal to deliver support could undermine the UN commander's intended course of action. By this means an operational decision by the United Nations can be influenced, modified, or completely overturned by the group of nations, or even a single country, that provides the offshore element of a multifunctional force. Like ruthless shareholders in a joint stock company, individual nations that provide offshore support exercise this control regularly, as a right, and sometimes with breathtaking disregard for the fragility and overall purpose of the force. In addition to the military element, there is an array of UN civil agencies concerned with sustaining the civil population and restoring the administrative structures. By virtue of their crucial roles in the recovery process or relief plan, some agencies will determine the operational agenda and shape priorities. For example, in Bosnia, where the protection of humanitarian relief for many refugees and internaiiy displaced persons is the primary objective, the Office of the UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) has played the role oflead agency since 1991. However, the command arrangements between UNHCR, on the one hand, and the UN Protection Force (UNPROFOR) in Zagreb and in Sarajevo, on the other, are so vague they allow separate agendas to emerge. Although they play a primary role in the long-term strategy for success, each agency maintains independent command lines to distant headquarters in Geneva and New York. These links are frequently used to bypass and override the forcelevel command structure, which results in a reactive style of leadership at the command level because the constant need to maintain group cohesion overwhelms the possibility of command by initiative. As a result, when the level of insecurity rises, the UN capability to respond effectively decreases. Sustaining Local Support

In large operational areas where territory is held by different factions with varying degrees of consent to the UN presence, the deployment of small, vulnerable groups of UN personnel raises problems of security. Unless it has sufficient military assets to protect each vital function, a UN multifunctional force has to rely on the goodwill of locals for its survival and for the daily continuation of its tasks. Information becomes essential for military effectiveness, for individual survival, for the safety of convoys, for the security of isolated campsites, and for all routine movement and logistics. If it is deployed in weakly held positions over a wide area, a multifunctional force must foster a close

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relationship with its surrounding community in order to encourage this information exchange. A coordinated approach is needed if good civil-military relations are to be sustained. It involves establishing a relationship with local authorities, countering damaging propaganda, and dealing fairly but firmly with importunate demands. Pressure from local political and special-interest groups can complicate the neutrality of UN officials, who may find themselves acting de facto in the role of trustee district officers in some areas. To maintain the delicate balance of firm friendliness, a force-level policy is needed. But international NGOs and some UN relief agencies develop their own unilateral relations with warring factions, and there is a tendency for each agency to pursue its own agenda. Some military contingents do the same and develop bonds or enmities with local factions based on cultural, religious, or regional preferences. A confused force-level policy and the consequent withdrawal of civilian support can defeat a peace process. When information dries up, UN camps and military posts can become isolated, movements are vulnerable, and individual security requires a continuous military presence. If such protection cannot be provided, looting and banditry increase, dissidents are sheltered by the local people, cooperation is withdrawn, and the entire process of restoration is stalled. Disaffection on this scale may be caused by a culturally unacceptable foreign presence-for example, an ill-disciplined military contingent. 10 But this noncooperation is more likely a result of a carefully planned policy of subversion by disaffected factions seeking to sabotage the peace process. In a mid-level contingency, where no mandate will have the unqualified consent of every armed gang involved, UN effectiveness in maintaining civil support becomes essential to success. Viability and Long-Term Success Civil support influences the overall viability of a force. Assessing the likelihood of local opposition is vastly complicated when civil attitudes have to be predicted for the duration of a peace process. A multifunctional operation that is militarily viable because the balanceofforce is favorable to the United Nations at the outset may fail if a tiny schism of fighters continues to oppose the process and successfully subverts a sizable element of the civil population. This happened in Somalia and to a lesser extent in Cambodia, and it introduced a factor of failure that was not fully acknowledged by UN officials or military staff. In addition to local support, the operation must retain support from the domestic political constituency of each participating country. This is complicated by the vulnerability of politicians in democratic societies. Their accountability imposes a relentless demand for success, particularly in foreign military expeditions. National military staffs need to have evidence of success, measured by objectives that are tangible and finite. For them, success requires an adversary that can be identified and then defeated. A problem that does not have these

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features is either marginalized or redesigned to provide an "enemy" and criteria for success in its defeat. One of the main U.S. Army objections to involvement in peace support operations is that these operations do not fit a recognizable template for military action, especially for units aggressively but narrowly trained in war-fighting doctrine. 11 In contrast, the traditional military peacekeepers of the Nordic states, Ireland, Austria, and Canada have fewer problems adapting to a more sophisticated concept of success. In future second-generation operations, the politician and the narrowly trained war fighter may have to accept the fact that they are facing a new chapter of contingencies that cannot be redesigned to satisfy their need for visible success. The reconstruction of societies torn apart by extreme acts of violence may take decades; the process may not necessarily involve the defeat of an adversary or the achievement of a series of identifiable goals; there may be few obvious, morale-boosting objectives that foreshadow success. For the military, "success" in real terms may be no more than maintaining a workable level of protection to allow the vital work of relief agencies and civil administrations to go on unimpeded. Overall, the price in casualties may be hard for politicians to explain in terms of national interest, and severe limitations may exist that dictate the underemployment of military capabilities. If the international community is to take on these new responsibilities, political and military leaders must learn to redefine success in these terms and find ways of explaining that success to their constituencies.

Coordinating Multifunctional Operations International consensus for a UN operation is usually demonstrated most clearly in its command arrangements. When consensus is strong, states demand a high level of enforcement and allow their contingents to be subordinated to a strong centralized command. But in the more likely example of a mid-level scenario under the guidance of UN headquarters, the reluctance of governments to delegate authority over their national contingents rises in direct proportion to the level of danger the situation holds for their soldiers. The tension between increasing insecurity and increasing national control diminishes the effectiveness of the UN commander. Moreover, there are still numerous weaknesses in New York. Even though the deficiencies in the UN military organizing capability are slowly being rectified, 12 new demands for larger, more sophisticated peace support forces urgently require an additional level of command. 13 Strategic policy changes at the top must be reconciled more carefully with operational continuity on the ground. Operational plans must not be altered on a day-to-day basis as a result of unresolved negotiations among hostile parties, routine political jockeying among states, or off-the-record discussions among Security Council permanent members. At present, these activities interfere with operational decisions. A

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buffer is needed in New York to separate and, if necessary, translate raw and sometimes highly politicized statements and unauthorized injunctions from operational policy on the ground and to prevent needless changes that impose contradicting orders on commanders, their contingents, and the long-term objectives of a peace process.

Figure 4.1 UN Multifunctional Forces and Their Command Elements

UN Security Council

SRSG

Military Commander

UNCivil Elements

UNHCR WHO

UNICEF WFP (etc.)

Key Command Operational Control Communication

In recent experience, much of the force commander's energy has been spent on political damage control. If they are to succeed, UN commanders must be allowed to plan for success and to lead the various elements of a multinational force toward a coordinated long-term objective. But the command structures

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they are likely to inherit are fundamentally flawed. In the most tranquil situation, in which local threats are low and the composition of the force is uncomplicated by multifunctional elements, the commander is trapped between the SecretaryGeneral above, who exercises command over the commander as a UN official, and the national contingents below, which are less committed because they are under only operational control. Isolated in a distant theater, a strong commander can sometimes override the inherent tensions from above and below .14 But these tensions can become disabling because under duress individual contingents may finally submit to national policy pressures. UN precautions to prevent breakdowns of this kind have repeatedly proved to be inadequate. Dormant stress lines become active under pressure, particularly when multifunctional elements are added for a complex emergency. The most debilitating factor is the increased national interest in operational decisions. The options for the force commander in the field are reduced by the control exercised from outside the UN command structure by civil agencies and individual nations, as described previously. If the prospect oflocal violence is low, national headquarters are more relaxed about exerting influence over their UN contingents. But when the risk of local violence raises the need for a much tougher response and the consequent risk of casualties, national concerns tend to reduce and even immobilize the commander's options. It should be noted that national concerns include the legitimate fear of being dragged into escalating violence that could lead to operations beyond a nation's authorized military capabilities and beyond the anticipated level of commitment from its citizens and parliaments.

Essential Military Tasks At present, most UN member states want only a provisional instrument to respond to the mid-level of operations between peacekeeping and enforcement. In fact, many developing countries fear that a more powerful and independent UN military capacity might one day intervene in their own ugly but essentially private disputes. Moreover, countries that provide the military hardware for these expeditions are politically and materially exhausted by the proliferation of complex emergencies; thus, the inadequately supplied and structurally flawed multifunctional force is all they are prepared to underwrite. But demand for a better response will continue, and flawed though it may be, the instrument will be used again. And this reality dictates redefining the role of the military and improving its effectiveness. The weakest point is the headquarters of a multifunctional force. It is here that a concept for success must be developed. But it is also here that all of the tensions and fracture lines of a fundamentally flawed instrument converge. In the short term, UN headquarters in New York could be improved by better preparing the staff and by developing a more widely connected structure that

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pulls together all of the elements of a multifunctional force, not just the military ones. A headquarters that has to act in life-threatening missions must be prepared to function effectively from the start. This requires that it arrive ahead of its units under command and develop a group ethos, an agreed-upon modus operandi, a common language, and some relevant military experience. At present, the UN system cannot provide the field headquarters of a multifunctional force with these characteristics. To rectify this serious deficiency, the United Nations must develop its own staff corps. In the short term, this could be achieved by building a small standby staff in New York. Under this scheme a cadre of seconded officers from every staff branch could be developed in New York to shadow existing posts. When a new mission becomes imminent, the standby cadre would detach itself and form the nucleus of a headquarters staff for the field. Even before a mandate was authorized by the Security Council, the standby staff cadre would plan, conduct the initial reconnaissance, and produce the force deployment order. At the time a multifunctional force was deployed, the standby cadre would move from New York to the field and would ensure that a functional operations center was established from the outset. The special representative of the Secretary-General or force commander and other senior staff and officials, who are sometimes appointed at the last moment to represent national perspectives, would acquire a working and cohesive staff nucleus. When provided by the UN' s active troop-contributing countries, such a standby staff cadre system would be very cost-effective. When successfully organized, it could significantly improve the present ad hoc arrangements that inhibit troop contributors from committing resources to the United Nations. Within the overall framework of a multifunctional operation, the UN commander's position at present is weakened by individual agencies and organizations that evade the commander's authority and receive instructions directly from their own capitols or headquarters. Without jeopardizing workable relationships with these governmental, intergovernmental, and nongovernmental organizations, a commander must improve coordination by creating an irresistible center of gravity in the field. By being at the epicenter of negotiations, briefings, and decisionmaking, a UN commander already is frequently in a position to do this. In a multifunctional force, the military element will usually be the largest, most unified, and most clearly accountable component. It may possess powerful and comprehensive assets for communications, transport, logistics, and air support and may have direct access to intelligence. As a corporate body, it also has the most pervasive staff system that influences negotiations at the operational level, monopolizes the flow of intelligence, and processes and promulgates decisions. In addition to local protection, the military element may control air-space and sea approaches. For all these reasons, the UN political and military headquarters already possesses leverage to help manage any peace process. What it cannot do is anticipate and manage relief needs. A

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marriage of the dominant executive capabilities of the UN headquarters and the special skills of the humanitarian agencies is needed. By creating a central point at which the key officials from each agency or element in a theater are represented, exchange information, and coordinate their activities, it is possible to strengthen the focal position of force headquarters and to increase the coordinating ability of the commander. To formalize this arrangement, a coordinating cell should be established at the highest level, under the direct authority of the special representative or force commander. It should comprise military staff as well as representatives from the key UN humanitarian agencies (UNHCR, the World Heath Organization [WHO], the United Nations Children's Fund [UNICEF], and the World Food Programme [WFP]), UN Civilian Police, the political negotiating staff, and NGOs. The purpose of such a cell would be to create a focus for information and cooperation, thereby becoming a center that could also be used for coordination. This function would be exercised in the short term by organizing daily briefings to arrange routine civil-military activities (convoy protection, helicopter tasking, and similar tasks) and in the long term by developing a comprehensive strategy at the highest level. The advantage of having all the representatives working together at the same force headquarters and under the same leadership is that they would also learn to work cooperatively. When tension rises in a theater, perhaps as a result of local opposition, and activities have to be closely coordinated for selfprotection, a centrally organized plan can be more easily accepted by a particular humanitarian agency if it is delivered by the official from the agency who is actually seconded to the headquarters of the multifunctional force. The same approach could also be applied to the development and promulgation of the force's long-term strategic plans.

Notes Parts of the argument here relating to the UN military capacity are developed further in John Mackinlay, "Improving Multifunctional Forces," Survival 36, no. 3 (Autumn 1994): 149-173. 1. See UN document S/11052/Rev of October 27, 1973, paragraphs 3 and 4. 2. Marrack Goulding, "The Evolution of UN Peace-keeping," International Affairs 69, no. 3 (1993): 451-464. 3. As defmed by John Mackinlay and Jarat Chopra, A Draft Concept of Second Generation Multinational Operations 1993 (Providence: Thomas J. Watson Jr. Institute for International Studies, 1993). 4. A gap often exists between the aspirations of the representatives of the permanent members of the Security Council in New York and the real willingness of their countries to underwrite the initiatives. This gap was particularly evident in the resolutions and follow-up regarding the so-called safe areas in Bosnia-Herzegovina. 5. United Kingdom Ministry of Defence, Land Operations: Volume III: CounterRevolutionary Operations, Part/, General Principles (London: Ministry of Defence, August 1, 1977), document code 70516.

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6. Brian Urquhart, "UN Can Be Peacemaker in Brave New World Order," Observer (London), January 26, 1992; and "A Way to Stop Civil Wars," Providence Journal, January 26, 1992. 7. Brian Urquhart, "Peace Support Operations and the Military," in Peacekeeping: The Way Ahead, William H. Lewis, ed., McNair Paper No. 25 (Washington, D.C.: Institute for National Strategic Studies, November 1993), 54. 8. Ibid., 1, 6. 9. Alan James, "AReviewofUNPeace-keeping," InternationalSpectator47, no. 11 (November 1993): 622. 10. WilliamBranigin, "Bulgarians Tarnish Image ofUNPeacekeepers," Providence Sunday Journal, October 31, 1993, 1. 11. J. F. Hillen, "Peacekeeping Is Hell," Policy Review 66 {Fall 1993): 36-39. 12. United Kingdom, House of Commons, Foreign Affairs Committee, The Expanding Role ofthe UN and Its Implications for UK Policy, June 23, 1993, paragraphs 234-237. 13. Peter Saracino, "Polemics and Prescriptions," International Defence Review 5 (1993): 371-372. 14. John Mackinlay, The Peacekeepers (London: Unwin Hyman, 1989), 190.

• 5. UN Civil Governance-in-Trust JARAT CHOPRA

Dramatic press images of blue helmets, white tanks, and multicolored uniforms convey to audiences worldwide that the role of the United Nations in the field is a military one. Military contingents, particularly those of the nation of the news agency covering the area, are contrasted with the UN's essentially diplomatic headquarters in New York. The role of the civilian in the field is largely obscured by this one-dimensional picture. Whereas international administration generally has evolved considerably throughout the twentieth century, 1 UN civilian tasks have developed gradually, in the time from Count Bernadotte to Lord Owen. Today, just as UN "peacekeeping" has developed beyond its conventional parameters, UN civilian operations have expanded beyond the organization's traditional roles in diplomacy, mediation, observation, and verification. In addition to humanitarian assistance, addressed at some length in Chapter 6, civilian operations now include a range of administrative tasks. The United Nations has been called upon to organize elections; protect human rights; arrest, detain, prosecute, and punish individuals; control government ministries or administer conflict areas in their absence; and transfer power from one authority to another. All of this has been done, successfully or unsuccessfully, in the name of the international community as a whole and in trust on behalf of local communities victimized by war. This marks a shift from an era of defining international tasks to one of providing an opportunity for the United Nations to implement those tasks. Since 1945, the United Nations has focused on identification and definition of civil, political, economic, social, and peoples' rights; of individual responsibility under international criminal law; and of the responsibility of states regardless of their sovereignty. But the pace of UN implementation since 1990 has outstripped the international agenda of fifty years. This development raises a number of questions: What is the extent of civilian powers mandated on paper to UN officials in the field compared to the degree of authority they effectively exercise? Is this a legitimate activity, or does it constitute East River "imperialism"? Is the role of a third party in local governance effective? Can such a party alter social and political conditions and establish or reconstruct a traumatized civil society, or are nations at fundamentally different stages of historical development in which the international 69

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community can play a minimal role at best? Should the United Nations become an international administrator, or can it be only an observer and perhaps an occasional participant? Is it possible to bridge the gap between the demand to stop abuses of power and violence and the resources needed to respond? How will the United Nations explain the basis of its legitimacy and counter suspicion regarding its motives for intervening? And if the United Nations is to do the job, how can it do so?

Early Experiments The notion of administration is tied to the centralized exercise of authority, and it constitutes the link between this authority and the territory and peoples it claims under its jurisdiction. The size of territory and population tends to increase as the degree of authority increases-from the family head, to the tribal king, to the state sovereign, and to the hegemonic emperor. As more territory and population come under the central authority, that authority is said to be more powerful. At the same time, its power is extended further from the center, and as it becomes weaker, it has a greater need for bureaucracy-as a rule of organization generally-to effectively control the area. The authority is institutionalized by maintaining order through a military, upholding the law through courts, managing an economy through finance structures, and implementing its will through executive mechanisms. Authority by definition is a minority that exists by exerting its influence over a majority. Regardless of the political system in place or its underlying ideology, whether it is abusive and exploitative or protective and distributive, tyrannical or popularly legitimate, this characteristic of authority and the administration it requires remains constant. For this reason, paradoxically, the opposing forces of both colonization and decolonization were concerned with centralized control of territory, one in the name of a foreign sovereign and the other on behalf of the local population. Whether there was popular participation in government following independence relied on the nature of the new political system or the individuals who inherited the powers of government. In either case, there was no dispute about the nature of authority by the few over the many, only about whether the few represented the many democratically or dominated autocratically. Consequently, it seemed reasonable to entrust colonial powers to administer League ofNations mandates or UN trustterritories in their transitions to independence. As international organizations assumed some functions oflocal administration in different parts of the world, they could not be immune from this fact of authority-both because they were composed of states based on this logic and because of the nature of authority they tried to institute or underwrite. The characteristic of authority dominated administrative exercises even though international organizations were considerably less centralized than were their

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component parts or the institutions they supported in the field. Curiously, it was precisely the decline of state authority that permitted international organizations to play a greater role in strengthening government institutions of specific national administrations. The logic of the international organization underwriting state structures at a time when government influence in society was declining was one of the limitations of international administration. 2 International administration by international organizations is principally a twentieth-century development, in part because such organizations formally emerged only in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and also because for the first time, administrative tasks were carried out by a number of nations but not in the name of any one nation. Ad hoc arrangements had existed previously when groups of states-usually victors after a war-acted jointly in a particular venture, but they still acted in their individual interests and not even in the interests of the limited group as a whole. Multinational administration of territory of whatever kind posed its own practical challenges. This situation was distinct from condominiums in history when more than a single sovereign shared jurisdiction over a particular area. International organizations did not represent themselves as sovereigns but rather represented the international community as a whole, administering territory not for exploitation but in a purposefully temporary manner. Before the creation of the United Nations, the distinction between cooperative arrangements of a group of states administering an area in their own interests and more formal collective arrangements of international organizations with limited or more universal membership, as in the case of the League of Nations, was blurred. 3 In 1897, for instance, the European powers-including Britain, France, Italy, and Russia-invaded Crete to prevent its union with Greece. They established an effective governmental organ, a Commission of the Consuls of the powers, which was nominally responsible to the Board of European Ambassadors in Istanbul. The administration of Crete, which lasted until1909, was underwritten by an international police force that replaced the military contingents as they withdrew. A similar model was used in Beijing after the 1900 Boxer Rebellion threatened the safety of the European community. International troops from seven states, under joint direction of a council of war, marched from Tientsin to relieve the city. Thereafter, a German commander in chief was appointed, the main force was evacuated, and a police force was left behind to support an international body with administrative powers. The administration of the international concessions of Shanghai and the international zone of Tangiers in the interwar period represented a wider but not universal set of interests. The International Settlement of Shanghai resembled "an international city state, governed by a Municipal Council of international composition and subject only to the somewhat tenuous jurisdiction of the Consular Body consisting of the consuls of the fourteen foreign powers with extraterritorial rights."4 The Municipal Council was underwritten by a municipal police force and the Shanghai Volunteer Corps, a small army with British,

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American, Chinese, Portuguese, Russian, Filipino, and Jewish companies. Similarly, the international administration of Tangiers was backed by a multinational police force. To implement the peace treaties that concluded World War I, the victorious Principal Allied and Associated Powers-namely, Great Britain, France, Italy, Japan, and the United States-established commissions to delimit the frontiers of the new political map and to hold plebiscites in disputed areas. The commissions were responsible to a Conference of Ambassadors in Paris, which was composed of the signatories of the peace treaties from whom the commissions derived their authority. Following the withdrawal of troops of contending parties, commissions were supposed to administer the disputed territory, delimit it, or supervise a plebiscite. The civilian administration of the area was underwritten by a police or military force that could maintain order and enforce the decisions of the civilian authority. Germany, Austria, and Hungary demanded at the Paris Conference that the commissions be composed of nationals of neutral states-that is, neither Allies nor defeated states. Most commissions, however, were composed of members from Allied powers and were largely separate from the League. Nevertheless, the purpose of the Allied administrators was a departure from the past: Their presence was intended to be temporary, and their goal was to settle a dispute or to act in some way on behalf of the local community. Whereas the context in which they operated-under the architecture designed by the peace agreements-served the strategic interests of the victors, their specific administrative tasks were not meant to be exploitative, and they required minimal pressure beyond the enforced consent that had initiated the process. For instance, the disputed port of Danzig between East Prussia and Poland was placed under the League's "guarantee" and was established as an autonomous free city. Before this status could be finalized, Danzig and its surrounding area were placed under the interim administration of the Allied powers. A British diplomat was appointed as administrator, and two battalions of British and French troops were deployed to maintain law and order during the transition, which took place between February and November 1920. After 1920 an international administrative body, the Danzig Port and Waterways Board, remained. This board could rely on the Danzig police, and in 1934 it established its own Harbor and River Guard. Similarly, from 1920 to 1924 the disputed territory around the port of Memel, between Lithuania and East Prussia, was placed under Allied administration. A French high commissioner was appointed, and three companies of French troops were deployed to maintain law and order. After the settlement of the dispute in 1924, an international Harbor Board remained, with its own police force. Varying degrees of administrative authority were exercised by the plebiscite commissions. In Schleswig-between Denmark and Germany-such a commission, supported by 3,000 British and French troops, divided the territory

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after the plebiscite in May 1920, with the approval of the Conference of Ambassadors. Two plebiscite commissions in Allenstein and Marienwerder, between East Prussia and Poland, transferred the territory to Germany as the plebiscite of July 1920 dictated-with the assistance of 2,000 British, Italian, and French troops. In Upper Silesia-adjacent to Poland, Germany, and Czechoslovakia-a French, British, and Italian commission supported by 20,000 troops failed to resolve the issue following the 1921 plebiscite, which favored Germany's claim. France, which had fielded three-quarters ofthe troops, split from the rest of the commission by favoring Poland. The matter went to the League of Nations Council, which produced a partition plan that was implemented successfully in 1922 by the Allied Commission and forces. Whereas the administration in each of these cases was under civilian authority, the military contingents carried out not just policing but also many other conventionally civilian tasks, such as registering voters, supervising polls, and preventing intimidation. The League of Nations played a limited role in helping resolve disputes the Allied powers had been unable to settle, such as in Upper Silesia and in the city ofVilna between Lithuania and Poland, between 1920 and 1922. But it assumed administrative responsibilities independently for the first time in 1920 in the coal- and iron ore-rich Saar, between Germany and France. This was the first instance, given the universality of the League as an international organization, in which administration was carried out by the international community as a whole in the interest of the local population. In other words, it was not merely a cooperative but also a collective arrangement. As a victor, France hoped to annex the Saar, but fears of the British and others that this would provide Germany with a cause celebre led to a compromise in 1920 in which the territory was placed under the League's administration for fifteen years. A five-member governing commission exercised full governmental powers and had 2,000 French troops available to maintain law and order. As the date for a plebiscite approached, this force was replaced by a larger multinational force of 3,300 troops from Britain, Italy, the Netherlands, and Sweden. This group provided high visibility for the international presence, which did not have to resort to armed force at any time. After a 90 percent vote in favor of joining what had become Nazi Germany, the League relinquished control of the Saar and transferred power to Hitler on March 1, 1935. In contrast to this fully integrated model, a League commission assumed control for one year, from 1933 to 1934, of the disputed district of Leticia between Colombia and Peru. Instead of a multinational force, the commission maintained order through 150 Colombian troops seconded to the League. The Colombians, however, were no less an international or a collective force than the French or other troops in the Saar since their authority lay exclusively with the League. As such, they wore blue armbands and flew the League's blue and white flag. In the meantime, another form of administration had developed as part of the system of the League: Colonies of defeated powers were distributed among

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the victorious Allies. But these were not intended to be the booty of war, which they would have been legitimately not long before. They were meant to be administered in trust and in transition, in preparation for the peoples in the territory to exercise eventual self-rule. These mandated territories continued to be administered internationally later under the United Nations in a somewhat different form as trusteeships. The League and the United Nations could not have summoned the resources or the capability to adapt the Saar arrangement to vast tracts of land worldwide; they needed the colonial powers to adopt the task. But there was a cost attached: Colonial administrators meant colonial administration. Despite the philosophy of the trust system, the mandates and trusteeships achieved independence no more quickly than the other colonial possessions, and they had to wait until the waves of decolonization in the 1950s and 1960s. In principle, the idea of a state that had sufficient resources and capability to fulfill a task on behalf of the international community and in the interest of the local community was sound and was not less collective than would have been the case if an international organization had physically administered the area. But the idea was reasonable only if the authority of the international community--expressed by the League or the United Nations-was being exercised regularly through the administering state as an instrument of that international authority. However, this was not the case. In most instances, mandatory powers had specific interests in the areas they administered. Although mandatory administrations tended to be less arbitrary than the mandate powers' rule in their own colonies, and even when these administrations accepted control of areas with some disinterest, their administrative policies were dictated more by financial gain than local development. The League was only the sum of its parts, and it could demand little accountability from its own members. The UN Charter, however, considered the organization something more than the sum of its member states. After World War II, with the ascendant roles of the United States and the Soviet Union-both of which were critical of colonial policies-and ultimately because of the willingness of colonial powers themselves to surrender their empires, the United Nations was able to remind the territorial authorities that trusteeships were to be administered in a way that would prepare them for self-rule.5 Whereas the decolonizing powers left behind many structures that would form the basis of authority and political culture in the newly independent states, they tended not to prepare the peoples for self-rule. However unpalatable the experience of colonial administration, its origins and motivations including the experience of the mandates and trusteeships, it nevertheless developed many mechanisms for administering large populations and geographic areas. If truly international administration is to be effective, UN planners may have to revisit the lessons of this experience. British colonial administration, for instance, had a well-developed system of provincial and district officials. Military and police units were responsible to these officials, who could therefore effectively exercise the powers of administration in their local areas. They were responsible to the governor, who worked with legislative

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and executive councils. These councils tended to be appointed, not elected, and eventually included selected individuals from the local population. If the powers assumed on paper by the United Nations are to be exercised, a sincerely motivated combination of these models will have to be examined. The issue here is to appreciate the lessons of organization and to ensure that administration is conducted on the part of the international community as a whole in the interests of the local population rather than in spite of the international community and in the interests of the authority at the cost of the population.

First Generation Experiments Much of the experience gained from early experiments was swept away by World War II and the need to create a stronger international organization. Attempts to resuscitate international cities as transitional arrangements failed in the early days of the UN system. These failures were partly a result of the Cold War and the absence of any international policing mechanism to underwrite ad hoc administrative authority in the manner Allied powers had done after World War I. But the failures were also partly caused by the fact that the international community and the United Nations could be challenged militarily by small factions and new, weak states. The UN Security Council devised a plan to establish the disputed city of Trieste between Italy and Yugoslavia as a free territory. It was to be administered by the Security Council, initially through local police, and armed forces were to be restricted in the area according to the Council's instructions. However, the United States and the Soviet Union disagreed on the appointment of a governor of the territory. In reaction, the Western powers engineered a new resolution that awarded the area to Italy, and this interim measure became the status quo as a fait accompli. A similar plan had been drawn up for Jerusalem. The UN General Assembly proposed that Jerusalem and its surrounding areas should have a separate status after the partition of Palestine. It would have a UN governor, it would be demilitarized, and a special police force would be responsible to the governor to maintain law and order. Instead, fighting broke out between the new Israeli state and its Arab neighbors, and the city was divided between Israeli and Jordanian forces. In the meantime, there was gradual development of UN experiments in observing cease-fire lines and armistice agreements and, eventually, the deployment of armed forces as international referees. 6 The political atmosphere of the Cold War meant these activities were limited in scope, had few military, policing, or other resources, and could be deployed only in instances in which the strategic imperatives of the superpower rivalry could accept their presence. UN administrative practices in the field had their debut as part of these limited

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observation and peacekeeping experiments. Unlike the period before the existence of the United Nations, when civilian administration designated and subordinated to it military or policing forces, UN administration now developed as part of the evolution of military forces in observation and peacekeeping tasks, tasks that had been subordinated to the diplomatic practice of the UN system. Throughout the Cold War, civilians had carried out administrative tasks in observation and peacekeeping missions. A typical headquarters staff in the field included political, legal affairs, public affairs, and chief administrative officers. However, these positions tended to focus more on the administration of the UN mission and less on the area for which the mission was responsible. In the cases of interposition forces, it is true that UN forces were responsible for maintaining the status quo in the territory they occupied. But these areas tended to be narrow strips of no-man's-land that, albeit strategic, sat between two opposing armies and did not include divided communities and the administrative complexities such division implied. Furthermore, the authority of such a mission was limited since it could not enforce its will or maintain law and order independently in defiance of local authorities. UN forces were present in their areas of operation by the grace of a status-of-forces agreement with the parties, a larger peace agreement between belligerents, and a UN resolution-usually from the Security Council. Although the mission represented the will of the international community, it relied on local consent in order to function. These limitations were some of the growing pains of the shift ranging from powerful states independently administering areas extraterritorially, through limited international control of areas underwritten by the assets and the interests of powerful armies, to, finally, genuinely collective administration by the international community as a whole and in the local interest. The next phase of this shift was to enable the United Nations both to administer effectively as an interim authority governing-in-trust and to be accepted both internationally and locally as legitimate. The first operation deployed as a transition administration was the United Nations Temporary Executive Authority (UNTEA), which supervised the decolonization of Dutch West New Guinea and transferred the territory to Indonesia between 1962 and 1963. For seven months a UN administrator had exclusive and full authority, under the direction of the Secretary-General, to administer the territory. The administrator had the power to appoint government officials and members of the representative councils, to legislate for the territory, to issue travel documents to Papuans for travel abroad, and to fulfill UNTEA' s commitments and guarantees regarding civil liberties and property rights. UNTEA was mandated to adapt the Dutch institutions in the territory to an Indonesian pattern. Ultimately, having secured the reins of power, it would transfer this power to a new authority. It was also envisioned that the United Nations would conduct a plebiscite in 1969 as a genuine exercise of self-determination to establish whether or not

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the inhabitants wished to be part oflndonesia. A representative of the SecretaryGeneral and a staff would advise, assist, and participate in the arrangements, which were primarily the responsibility of Indonesia. However, once the territory was transferred in 1963, the matter was effectively closed. To underwrite UNTEA's authority, a United Nations Security Force (UNSF) was deployed. It was composed of 1,500 Pakistani troops and 110 naval personnel to fortify Dutch patrol vessels transferred to the United Nations, and its primary task was to maintain law and order. To do so the force was to cooperate with local Papuan police and the Papuan Volunteer Corps, whose links to the Dutch army were to be severed. At the discretion of the administrator, Indonesian armed forces could also be used. UNSF also had an observation role to implement cease-fire terms and supervise the repatriation of prisoners. The force was exclusively responsible to the civilian administrator. Despite these extensive powers, UNTEA turned out to be an anomaly. The UN experience in the Congo from 1960 to 1964 effectively halted the development of multifunctional operations and returned the international community to the conventional tasks of peacekeeping. The Operation des Nations Unies au Congo (ONUC) was considerably larger, with 20,000 troops at its height, but it was juridically less authoritative than UNTEA. UNTEA was an exclusive authority that secured power before transferring it; conversely, ONUC assisted an authority when power had already been transferred. ONUC' s most difficult task was to assist the central government in the restoration and maintenance of law and order as the local authority fragmented, ultimately collapsed, and fostered a secession. This left ONUC at one point in the position of being the effective authority in the area, which required that the Security Council expand its powers to use force. ONUC was not deployed under the terms of a comprehensive agreement and a mandate that addressed the overall problems in the Congo. It operated under limited but vague Security Council resolutions that had to be updated several times. The operation formed its character through trial and error and by reacting to ground conditions as they developed. By the end of the operation, ONUC had carried out a number of complex tasks. To maintain the territorial integrity and political independence of the Congo, ONUC contemplated using force to compel a Belgian withdrawal and had to prevent the secession of Katanga. To assistthe central government in restoring law and order, ONUC was mandated to protect life and property from unlawful violence, to disarm elements threatening internal law and order, and to help reorganize the national security forces. To prevent the occurrence of civil war in the territory and to secure the withdrawal of foreign military forces and mercenaries, ONUC used force to apprehend and deport. ONUC, therefore, exercised extensive policing powers, but it often did so in the absence of a local central authority; the United Nations was not in a position to behave as a replacement. Trying to exercise authority outside a coherent framework and without a comprehensive strategy meant ONUC could

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only react to events. It could not bridge the gap between, on one hand, the vacuum of central authority and the challenge of anarchical nodes of authority and, on the other hand, the UN capabilities and mandate. The United Nations had to consider its ability and willingness to provide continuity as a third partyincluding its own role as a comprehensive, centralized authority-when local authority fragmented, factions formed, and breakaway tendencies threatened the territorial integrity of the area and its neighbors. It is difficult to establish this role during an operation if such a role were not intended from the outset. Furthermore, the United Nations would have to be prepared not just to assist local police forces in maintaining law and order but also to develop an independent means of maintaining and restoring law and order when local systems collapsed altogether. Finally, the "Congo shuffle"-the withdrawal of the United Nations in a face-saving manner with an inflated perception of success-illustrated that although such efforts may save lives in the short term, UN governance tasks would have to leave behind coherent and truly sustainable structures of authority after the operation's withdrawal. Many of these issues, however, were not addressed fornearly three decades. The view that these activities should not be tried again resulted from several factors. First, the international community was psychologically unprepared to have the United Nations assume such extensive powers. Also, Cold War interests confronted third-party impartiality as superpowers feared undesirable outcomes of the UN role in specific internal conflicts. Finally, the public perceived that ONUC in particular, and the use offorce and the exercise of UN authority in general, had been a failed experiment. Instead, the conventional tasks and practice of peacekeeping crystalized in the Sinai, Cyprus, Lebanon, and elsewhere. UN civilian functions reverted from exercising authority to administering peacekeeping operations. The role of the Special Representative of the Secretary-General (SRSG) developed as a negotiator or, at most, as a guarantor of settlements rather than as an instrument of UN authority or political governor. 7 This kind of civilian authority-of conventional peacekeeping missions-reached its height in 1988 with the UN Good Offices Mission in Afghanistan and Pakistan (UN GOMAP). The mission did not address the Afghan conflict as such but verified the Soviet withdrawal from the area. UNGOMAP was deployed as the end of the Cold War began to alter the entire landscape of UN operations.

Second Generation Experiments A significant turning point was the United Nations Transition Assistance Group (UNTAG) in Namibia in 1989. As a decolonization operation, this was effectively a joint administration of Namibia by the United Nations and South Africa's powerful occupying forces that were about to withdraw. The original plan in the 1970s envisioned the United Nations assuming executive powers and

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exclusive control over the territory_ This proved politically impossible, and, given the capabilities of the UN secretariat and available resources, it would have been operationally unsuccessful. Nevertheless, this partnership approach enabled the United Nations to develop its own multifunctional approach to problems. Civilian-military relations became an acute issue for the first time, given the unprecedented scope of civilian activities. Although the military force commander was subordinated to the civilian special representative, this relationship was not well integrated, and military assistance in civilian tasks was not as forthcoming as was needed. In the end, because of inertia from previous operations and an inability to predict the results of the Namibia experiment, it turned out that the size of the military component was over-estimated and that of the civilian resources was insufficient. Focus shifted radically from administration of the operation to administrative tasks regarding the territory itself. The special representative exercised a kind of veto authority in the process and began to behave as a quasi-jointgovernor-in-trust. Although he could not control the South African administrator-general or his civilian administration or military forces, the special representative nevertheless acted as a restraint on decisions that were counter to the spirit of the process. At his disposal were forty-two political offices around the country. These offices did not have local executive powers, but they could verify the integrity of the process and report to the SRSG if this integrity was violated. Ultimately, the issue could be passed to the Secretary-General, Security Council, and superpower brokers of the process to pressure South Africa to comply. This was an unwieldy mechanism, but it was a conventional peacekeeping chain of influence and was quite different from the colonial provincial administrator. Other innovations included information dissemination, public education, and political consciousness-raising efforts among an almost entirely illiterate population. But the main feature of the Namibian operation was the experience the United Nations gained in holding elections and verifying them as free and fair. Although the special representative did not have exclusive responsibility for organizing and conducting the election, UNTAG nevertheless was instrumental in drafting an electoral law and ensuring the South African administration's compliance with it. Electoral components would become one of the best developed arms of civilian administration in the future as the United Nations came to rely more on elections as a final point of transitional arrangements and as a means of justifying withdrawal. However, although it was not an acute problem in the relatively benign environment of Namibia, a fragmented model of UN administration was developing. UN military units in the countryside did not report to the local political officer but rather to the force commander in Windhoek. Similarly, UN civilian police (CIVPOL) units were responsible to their commissioner in the capital. The police did not conduct law and order tasks independently. Of conventional policing powers to report incidents, to investigate violations, and

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to search, seize, arrest, and detain individuals, UNTAG CIVPOL had the power only to report incidents. This situation posed problems in at least three cases that required UN investigation. The Irish international lawyer Sean O'Linn was appointed as independent jurist, but he lacked independent prosecutory powers of any kind. Whereas the O'Linn Commission was established to hear cases of election infractions, it did not convict anyone. These essential features of authority would have to be consolidated, integrated, and less reliant on local structures if the United Nations were to exercise civilian authority effectively. Whereas Namibia proved to be a relatively calm environment in which the occupying power was ultimately cooperative, Cambodia afforded the United Nations neither calm nor cooperation. Nevertheless, in Cambodia the United Nations relied too heavily on the fragmented model of what had been perceived as the Namibia "success." The UN Transitional Authority in Cambodia(UNTAC) in 1992 and 1993 was the most extensive administrative operation to that time, and it tested the ability of the United Nations to exercise authority not just independently but in spite of intransigent local authorities. UNTAC was a critical experiment in the efficacy of governance-in-trust tasks. Local authority in Cambodia was divided among factions and had traditionally been fragmented and disconnected between Phnom Penh and the provinces in the countryside. Even so, the UN model of administration was itself fragmented and unable to fulfill its mandate to directly control local power. The special representative could no longer afford to be a diplomat, whose operating style and sub-culture were to maintain a status quo as smoothly as possible or, alternatively, to negotiate agreement with the parties for any change. Now the job was political, and executive powers had to be exercised, not negotiated. But the person in the position was a diplomat, and he refused to play the role the mandate effectively required, a "MacArthur of Cambodia," as he put it. 8 Powers that existed on paper, but that were negotiated rather than exercised, meant that UN authority would be necessarily weak and that UNTAC would be unable to transfer power since such power had not been secured in the first place. Even if the special representative had exercised more of his powers, the operation was still limited in its ability to implement executive decisions. UNTAC' s authority to "control" Cambodia's administration included the power to neutralize ministries politically through the removal of personnel. But there was no means to enforce this independently, and local intransigence prevented it from occurring. The concept of UNTAC' s CIVPOL was very much a traditional one of assisting in the maintenance of law and order by local forces, and so CIVPOL's powers were restricted to reporting and investigating. But rather like the reactive experience in the Congo, these powers had to be expanded to include the full powers of search, seizure, arrest, and detention. Arrests were made, but detention required a UN jail. For the first time, such a facility was established; but it was never used, and prisoners were detained by military contingents. The powers of arrest were necessitated partly by the establishment of a special prosecutor as a means for the United Nations to be perceived as

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responding to growing political violence as the elections approached. However, the executive core of UNTAC effectively prevented prosecutions for its own political purposes-namely, to avoid confrontation with the factions for the sake of a "comprehensive" peace process at the cost ofjustice. It thereby contradicted UNTAC's human rights education program in the legal system teaching Cambodians about independence of the judiciary. In the meantime, the UN military was more integrated into the operation as a whole and provided more assistance to civilian activities than had been true in Namibia, partly because there were time and resources in light of the failure of the demilitarization phase of the operation. However, the UN military forces still relied on the conventional peacekeeping formula. 9 Operating under "nonpeacekeeping" conditions meant the independence of UN authority was hampered, and its military component never managed to create a secure environment for conducting elections. UNTAC was a further development of the multifunctional concept of operations. In addition to a well-developed electoral component, there were extensive programs in public affairs, education, information dissemination, and, in particular, human rights. On paper, the human rights component had many of the powers human rights bodies had always wanted-namely, the authority to hold local authorities accountable, and to demand the release of prisoners and the prosecution of violators. The willingness of human rights workers to challenge authority was a valuable asset in Cambodia, but the component's ability to transform the legal system and to educate the population about its rights was hampered generally by the limitations of the operation. Elsewhere, operations deployed to the Western Sahara and El Salvador provided lessons of their own. An operation mandated to hold a referendum in the exercise of Western Sahara's self-determination failed to reach its goal. This was the best example of an operation that had the widest powers mandated and the least means available to underwrite those powers. The United Nations claimed the authority to be the exclusive administrative governor of the area, with powers to repeal local legislation and with military and security units able to exercise independently full law and order functions. Instead, it failed to deploy more than a few hundred observers because of the occupying power's intransigence. In El Salvador, the first human rights operation was deployed in 1991, without a larger framework with military and police units. Even though the process was underwritten by an extensive negotiating capability linked directly to the UN Secretary-General, the ability of the mission to investigate, report on, and protect human rights rested with the support of the Farabundo Marti National Liberation Front (FMLN). The presence of the FMLN as a viable force acted as a type of enforcement mechanism for the United Nations by challenging government forces; its eventual neutralization meant UN authority was curtailed as well. Finally, the recent Somalia experience does not represent the culmination of all these experiments, although it proved to be the largest UN operation to date

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due to the role of the United States. The experience in Somalia evolved through four phases: conventional cease-fire observation between July and November 1992, forcible delivery of humanitarian assistance between December 1992 and spring 1993, combat operations between June and October 1993, and "nationbuilding" since October 1993. Although the United Nations had a mandate to assist Somalis, in the absence of a centralized authority it was forced to behave as a de facto authority. In effect, the United Nations did in Somalia what it was supposed to do in Cambodia, and it did in Cambodia what it was supposed to do in Somalia. Even considering the special role of the United States, it can be said that in Somalia UN authority was exercised more forcefully and independently than before, albeit at times excessively and unaccountably. The Security Council issued its first arrest warrant. Detention facilities were established and held around 1,000 arrested prisoners. But there was no system of prosecution or law to regulate this activity. This situation is the reverse of the former Yugoslav tribunal, which is a system of prosecution with minimal means of implementation. The UN' s ultimate goal is to hold an election, but this is unlikely to alter significantly the political landscape. More important is the UN's ability to establish a Somali police force, judiciary, and transitional government from the bottom up, therefore defying the attempt by factions to establish a government controlled by them from the top down. Somalia is the first case since Dutch West New Guinea in which the United Nations has secured power and is in a position to transfer that power to a legitimate authority. But is the United Nations capable of doing so, and should it?

The Trust Authority This varied experience of international administration raises a variety of issues to be considered if governance-in-trust is to be accepted in principle or practice.

Administration Different forms of administration can be distinguished. The United Nations may assume exclusive responsibility in an area and administer it as a governor-intrust, or it may participate in some joint arrangement in which it assumes responsibilities of a transition phase but does not physically conduct all of the tasks of governance. In this case it would exercise varying degrees of authority and either control local authority, enter into a partnership with such an authority, or render it assistance.

Governorship. The United Nations assumes full responsibility for conducting the affairs of government. This may occur when there is a total collapse of local state structures or when the state structures are imposed by a colonial or

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occupying power that is about to withdraw. The United Nations may assume the tasks of governance and deploy a specific operation for that purpose, or it may, in the manner of the trust territories, assume these responsibilities in name and appoint a single power or group of powers as agents to perform tasks on its behalf. This would require some mechanism of effective accountability that was not characteristic of the trusteeship system and that would ensure continued UN direction of the powers conducting the operation.

Control. An operation deployed to the area in question may have been authorized under a mandate to exercise the powers of "direct control." In this event, the UN authority in the field would deploy throughout the bureaucratic instruments of the state or administering authority, including ministries, the judicial system, police, and armed forces. Once deployed, UN officials would observe the local authority conducting the affairs of state. If the local authority commits an infraction under the terms of the overall mandate of the transition process, the United Nations has the overriding authority to ''take corrective action" by dismissing personnel or redirecting a local policy decision. Partnership. The local authority may be powerful and may have adequate resources, because it is either a colonial power decolonizing or another kind of occupying force withdrawing, or it may be a totalitarian regime submitting itself to a democratizing process. In this case, the UN authority-in-trust may behave more as a partner of the local authority, given the coherent structures of governance in place, although it would still be first among equals and, as the transition authority, would have the final say in the transition period. Assistance. The local administration may be in general, although not complete, disarray; the trust authority provides an overall coherence and an international standard for the development of government structures. Local structures in place may have been mishandled or abused and may have spawned an opposition or fragmented into several factions, constituting a source of conflict. The trust authority behaves as a director of administration, selectively correcting flaws in the local system. In this case, the United Nations is not immune from the authority of the local executive. Effectiveness In governorship administration, the powers to enforce the decisions of the administering authority are in the hands of the UN government-in-trust; it has exclusive responsibilities and does not have to submit to the will of another administration in place. Several problems are associated with this form of administration.

Resources. Will the UN secretariat or appointed state or group of states be able to muster the extensive resources and political commitment needed to conduct the complex and long-term tasks of governance-in-trust? This raises the question

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of whether the operation should be funded entirely from external sources, or whether local resources can be harnessed to finance some of the activities of governance as part of the overall rehabilitation of the country. The answer may depend on whether local resources are readily available or whether, in the case of a poor country wealthy in natural resources, they can be developed to help underwrite costs. Accountability. If the appointed UN agents are in a political position and have the will to commit resources to such a project, will they act impartially in the best interests of the territory concerned, or will they have ulterior motives? Will the United Nations as the ultimate mandating authority have the means to exercise control over its agents to ensure impartial commitment to its mandate? The administering authority may be a major power regionally or internationally. The problem is particularly acute since the most willing and least desirable candidates will have specific interests-such as geographical, economic, or historical links to the area-and therefore will be driven by ulterior motives. Although such countries may not want to aggressively occupy an area in flagrant violation of the UN Charter and international law, they may desire a fig-leaf arrangement in which governance-in-trust on the paper of a Security Council resolution amounts to illegitimate occupation. In this manner, governance-intrust must be distinguished from colonial or imperial acts by its mechanisms of accountability to the interests of the international community as a whole. In joint forms of administration, the powers of direct control or corrective action will have to be underwritten by an independent capacity to exercise the authority-in-trust. Although this policy will be selectively applied in instances in which a flaw exists or an infraction has been committed, the operation nevertheless will need to have effective means of governance at its disposal. These include UN civilian police forces, an independent means of criminal prosecution, and a criminal law developed for UN operations that takes account of human rights issues. These activities may be possible only within the context of an overall security umbrella provided by UN military forces. Transition

The meaning of a transition period should be clarified. Essentially, this is the period during which the United Nations is exercising its authority within the territory in question. This leads to further questions about when this period should begin and end. Under what circumstances should the United Nations assume the powers of governance-in-trust? Is doing so entirely at the discretion of the Security Council or at the invitation of whatever local factions or state structures exercise de facto administration? What conditions should prevail in the territory, and at which stage should the United Nations act: In the midst of conflict; when a cease-fire has been declared after a conflict; or before a conflict, during an economic crisis, or when central authority has fragmented into factionalism and outbreaks of violence threaten larger-scale hostilities? When

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should the transition period end? What standard of law and order should be achieved before the trust authority can justify its withdrawal? How much change is needed during UN involvement to judge the new era a success?

Mandate The mandate is a critical feature of governance-in-trust because in the field it is regarded as the source of authority for exercising one set of powers or another. It sets a standard against which to measure whether the operation is conducted "in trust," that is, in the interests of the territory in question and by the international community as a whole. A criticism of this category of mandate is that it implies the imposition of the UN Charter and international law, instruments developed essentially by Western Judeo-Christian culture in areas with different values and cultures. However, an unfortunate aspect of the international system is that it has been based on these concepts and that nations that are not part of this single tradition have had to accept much from it. As the biases of the international system itself erode, mandates will also have to keep pace with change. If trust authorities are to succeed, however, they must take full account of the sociological nature of authority in the areas of their new jurisdiction. The ways UN authority will be exercised in this context will be the challenge of a special representative of the Secretary-General or governor-in-trust.lt is not that the United Nations must exercise authority in the local style nor in a manner so alien to the local population that it fails to be regarded as authority. The supremacy of the mandate must be assured, and it is easier to do so if the drafters of the mandate take account of the nature of local authority. For instance, in Cambodia local factions did not regard election results with any finality, as having produced a winner and a loser. The election results were seen merely as a bargaining chip in the existing balance of power, which UNT AC was unable to control. In this case, elections may not have been the best means by which to identify a new authority, or, if they were to be carried out, attention needed to be focused on how to ensure the local factions complied with the results. The view is similar in Somalia, where election results cannot exclude the loser from participating in government.

International Presence One of the questions arising from the concentrated exercise of UN authority in a geographic area is how to avoid the need for such authority following breakdowns of national administration, as in the former Yugoslavia. As with the notion in national society of a constant police presence on streets to avoid incidents or the escalation of incidents, perhaps the international community needs to deploy trigger units in areas that have the potential for crisis. Some notion of this potential will need to be determined. Once deployed, these units could be increased and decreased in number as crises intensify or settle. A significant massive presence will sometimes stabilize an area without having to

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exercise much authority, and it may avoid the costs of even larger operations if the situation escalates out of control. Instruments of Authority Civilian police forces. Unlike civilian police units in peacekeeping operations in Cyprus, Namibia, and even Cambodia, a police force capable of effectively enforcing law and order as well as decisions of the trust authority will require a clear mandate with full policing powers to report, investigate, search, seize, arrest, and detain. Whereas local police forces should bear the brunt of law and order duties, with cooperation from CIVPOL, the UN force must be able to conduct its tasks independent of the local police, particularly if the latter group refuses to enforce a decision of the trust authority or if it is guilty of violating the UN mandate. CIVPOL should be prepared not to underwrite but to challenge local law according to the UN law regulating the transition process. CIVPOL will require detention facilities to temporarily hold prisoners liable to prosecution as well as those sentenced to longer imprisonment. Criminal prosecution. The trust authority will require an independent process of prosecution. It will need a panel of judges, which may include local judges, but the trust authority cannot rely on the inconsistencies of local systems of prosecution, which may depend on an executive authority that is corrupt or ineffective. This independent mechanism should be available for both local offenders and members of the UN operation who are guilty of criminal activity. Criminal Law. In addition to the overall mandate of the transition process, a specific criminal law needs to be developed for UN operations, generally, for local and UN offenders. This should be a simplified document that takes account of various legal systems and will likely be limited in the first instance to blatant violations. Practice and application will create the larger body of law for this activity. Human Rights. Although the criminal law may focus on basic crimes, such as murder and monetary corruption, account should be taken of the special dimensions ofhuman rights law. Integration of domestically conceived criminal activity and human rights violations will have to be achieved.

Conclusion "Multifunctional" must be understood to mean the integration of diplomatic, military, and humanitarian activities into an overall political strategy for UN

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operations. The umbrella framework that coordinates these elements will need to be the UN administrator-as politician-if complex transition arrangements in internal conflicts are to succeed. The tasks of civil administration are ultimately the glue that maintains a comprehensive strategy. If any diplomatic, military, or humanitarian aspect of operations dominates, an imbalance results from the political vacuum created by subordinated elements. It will be the challenge of the UN authority-in-trust, of whatever kind and magnitude, to orchestrate this essentially political framework. The UN has not adequately developed political strategies that are commensurate with diplomatic, military, and humanitarian activities. This has led to limited success in the field and sometimes to failure. The specific problems of military operations and humanitarian action are increasingly the subject of analysis. 10 Although civilian administration in the first four decades of UN practice was linked to the evolution of military forces, there is now a greater imperative to coordinate political processes if multifunctional operations are to function at all. But can the UN do the job? The assumption of enormous administrative tasks seems unlikely, given the results since 1990. At the same time, the evolution of both civil administration and the UN' s political role in internal conflicts build on the organization's experience in what may be a more costeffective manner than military enforcement. This evolution also provides a vehicle for the development of military capabilities in a palatable manner and of humanitarian activities in a better coordinated manner. If UN governance-in-trust is to be accepted as legitimate, it must be collectively underwritten by the international community as a whole. Sovereignty and the barriers it raises cannot withstand inevitable intervention in issues that are legitimately deemed international. The scope of "international" is widening to the point that UN administration is becoming a necessity rather than an intrusion. However, the psychological shift among populations in the areas of UN operations or on home fronts of nations contributing personnel has not kept pace with these international developments. The long-term costs of not intervening will have to be understood as being greater than the short-term costs of intervening. As national fragmentation proliferates in the former Second and Third W odds, that point may be upon us.

Notes This chapter is drawn largely from field visits to UN operations from 1991 to 1994. 1. See Craig Murphy, International Organization and Industrial Change: Global Governance Since I850 (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1994); and Thomas G. Weiss, International Bureaucracy: An Analysis of the Operation of Functional and Global International Secretariats (Lexington: Heath, 1975).

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2. On the general decline of government influence, see Charles Taylor, The Malaise of Modernity (Concord, Ontario: Anansi Press Ltd., 1991 ), Chapter x. 3. On the early experiments referred to in the remainder of this section, see also D. W. Bowett, United Nations Forces (New York: Frederick A. Praeger, 1964), Chapter 1; and Alan James, Peacekeeping in International Politics (London: Macmillan and the International Institute for Strategic Studies, 1990), Parts 1, 2, 3. 4. Bowett, United Nations Forces, 4--5. 5. See also Leland M. Goodrich and Edvard Hambro, Charter of the United Nations: Commentary and Documents, 2d ed. (Boston: World Peace Foundation, 1949), Chapter 12. 6. For the United Nations view on the story, see The Blue Helmets; A Review of United Nations Peace-keeping, 2d ed. (New York: United Nations Department of Public Information, 1990). 7. For a discussion, see DonaldJ. Puchala, "The Secretary -General and His Special Representatives," in Benjamin Rivlin and Leon Gordenker (eds.}, The Challenging Role of the UN Secretary-General (Westport: Praeger, 1993), 81-97. 8. Interview with UNTAC's SRSG Yasushi Akashi, Phnom Penh, November 1992. 9. On the distinctions between the old and new models, see for example John Mackinlay andJaratChopra, "Second Generation Multinational Operations," Washington Quarterly 15, no. 2 (Spring 1992): 113-131. 10. See also Larry Minear and Thomas G. Weiss, Mercy Under Fire: War and the Global Humanitarian Community (Boulder: Westview Press, 1995).

• 6. The Evolving Humanitarian Enterprise LARRY MINEAR

With the ebbing of East-West tensions and the advent of the post-Cold War era, the world has changed more quickly and profoundly than has the UN system. It is not unprecedented, of course, for institutions to have to play catch-up with current events and historical trends. Yet the new geopolitical picture, freighted with negative humanitarian potential, has caught the world body largely off guard. In one sense, the United Nations has been the victim of unrealistic expectations. Freed from the paralysis caused by superpower politics and posturing, and assisted by reduced warfare around the world and a handsome ,peace dividend, the United Nations was expected to turn its attention overnight to languishing or moribund elements of its Charter. Ironically, the United States, which helped tie the UN' s hands, has led the chorus of those now demanding sudden manual dexterity from the world organization. A more probing view, as Mohammed Ayoob points out in Chapter 2, would have anticipated what has happened. The world is now reaping the whirlwind sowed during the Cold War. Indeed, the perception that the world's reprobate regimes are now suddenly behaving more reprehensibly or that the life of the world's poor is more brutish and short confirms the extent to which East-West blinders obscured Cold War ravages as they happened. To have expected Cold War manipulation to be followed by principled multilateralism also seems utopian. Unreasonable expectations aside, the United Nations has been slow to sense the magnitude of the post-Cold War challenge and to seize the moment. Faced with a series of major humanitarian crises-several of them reviewed in this book-UN officials and organizations have tended to treat each crisis as wholly unprecedented. For instance, the United Nations has not identified structural problems it now faces as an organization of sovereign governments seeking to respond to human need in civil wars in which state sovereignty is contested. Instead, it has stubbornly assumed that it can deal effectively with both seated governments and insurgents in civil wars much as if it were responding to natural disasters. Or again, rather than anticipating the humanitarian problems created 89

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by economic sanctions against pariah regimes, the Security Council has imposed sanctions first and counted the humanitarian cost later. Intrastate conflicts have now replaced superpower jousting as the major complication in the life of the United Nations. "As the atom is to nuclear physics, the nation-state was supposed to be the basic unit of international politics," Peter J. Fromuth has written from his vantage point at the U.S. mission to the United Nations. "Yet since the end of the Cold War, the pent-up hatred and frustration of nationalist, ethnic, religious and other forces have exploded, splitting the nation-state atom and sending shock waves across the international system." As a result, "Although the Security Council increasingly acts as a kind of global hotline for emergency response, the distress calls are not at all what the Charter's framers had intended." 1 Five years into the Dial 1-800-UN era, the UN' s energy and determination have exceeded its capacities. It has tackled a wider range of problems in a larger array of places rather than rethinking and altering its terms of engagement. Each emergency has distinctive features, and the United Nations is more successful in some conflicts than in others. However, reinventing the wheel with each new crisis has meant that mistakes are repeated and lessons remain unlearned. Reacting rather than anticipating, the United Nations has made surprisingly few fundamental changes of an institutional or a policy nature. This is not to suggest that the humanitarian enterprise has remained static while the world has changed around it. Institutional evolution has begun to reflect the reality that internal armed conflicts have replaced wars between states as the primary cause of humanitarian problems. Although "natural disasters" still occur, most crises today involve civil wars-a new challenge for humanitarians. Five years into the post-Cold War era, the UN humanitarian enterprise has evolved less rapidly than its peacekeeping activities. The quantitative data are telling. In spring 1994, sixteen UN peacekeeping operations were underway, involving 71,816 military and civilian personnel contributed by seventy countries and costing $3 billion. 2 At that same time, major humanitarian initiatives responding to consolidated UN interagency appeals were taking place in eleven countries at a cost of about $500 million. 3 But there are also qualitative differences. Whereas many of the UN peacekeeping undertakings launched before the end of the Cold War (for example, in Lebanon and Pakistan) had no major humanitarian component, most of those launched since 1989 (the four cases examined in Part 3 of this book as well as Angola, Mozambique, and Rwanda) have included or paralleled major UN humanitarian efforts. In fact, UN multifunctional operations have provided the most treacherous terrain for the UN humanitarian response. These operations are also probably the most formative in the evolution of the next generation of UN humanitarian activities. UN humanitarian programs require review both in their own right and in relation to UN peacekeeping activities. This chapter uses the French term

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secouristes to describe UN organizations, such as the United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF) and the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), whose primary function is to provide humanitarian assistance. It applies the English term securists to UN organizations such as the departments of peacekeeping and political affairs that are engaged in humanitarian support functions and that affect the context in which secouristes function. The UN personnel described in Chapter 5 may be considered in the former or the latter category depending on whether they play direct humanitarian roles (for example, human rights protection) or contextual support functions (for example, electoral or civilian police duties). The effectiveness of the humanitarian enterprise is a function of how well secouristes and securists, each introduced in the next section, do their respective jobs. The enterprise increasingly seeks to build upon the comparative advantages of each, as a review of conceptual and operational issues suggests. Later sections examine the options available to the United Nations for structuring the relationship between the two groups and the implications of these options for humanitarian organizations outside the United Nations. The chapter ends with some concluding reflections. In a broad sense, UN humanitarian activities can benefit from the accomplishments of its diplomats and troops. A rising UN tide lifts all boats. Conversely, difficulties on the UN political-military side, and in the connections with UN humanitarian institutions, can undercut the organization's humanitarian work. The UN humanitarian enterprise is accordingly challenged to function better in its own right and to achieve a more synergistic-but also a more delimited-relationship with the UN system as a whole.

The Actors The cast of UN characters involved in civil wars is large and many-splendored. Among the secouristes are organizations and individuals with direct humanitarian roles and others engaged in associated tasks. The securists are an equally diverse and disparate troupe. Major humanitarian crises generally involve four major UN secouriste organizations. UNICEF, whose mandate is to assist women and children, has the longest history of work in situations of armed conflict. The World Food Programme (WFP) is charged with managing emergency and longer-term food resources; it does so with staff stationed in national capitals and sometimes in rural hinterlands. The World Health Organization (WHO) is the primary UN agency for assistance in the health sector. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) has responsibility for protecting refugees and promoting lasting solutions to their problems. The UN Development Programme (UNDP), which provides preinvestment and technical assistance to developing countries, has a representative in each country who serves

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as point person for the UN system. The mandates of each organization emphasize the nonpolitical nature of their tasks. Recent evolution has been most noticeable in UNHCR, which has experienced both a broadening of the concept of what constitutes a refugee and an increase in activity within countries in which people are displaced. "In typical situations today," the organization reported in 1993, "UNHCR provides protection and assistance to groups of refugees fleeing combinations of persecution, conflict and widespread violations of human rights."4 UNHCR has resisted a worldwide mandate to care for persons displaced within their own countries who have not crossed international borders, but it nevertheless has selectively accepted responsibility for these persons. The other organizations, too, have evolved. UNICEF's work was affected the least among UN organizations by the politicization of the Cold War since it had developed a tradition of providing assistance in areas controlled by insurgents or by governments without conferring political recognition on either. Yet, UNICEF has spurred the adoption of international legal protections for, and has defended the rights of, children in armed conflicts. WFP has made its policies and procedures more conducive to managing emergency activities in conflict settings. WHO has begun to augment its emergencies unit, to station personnel not only in national capitals but also in more remote areas, and to take greater initiative in situations in which the political authorities have not specifically requested its involvement. UNDP has provided training in complex emergencies for national counterparts and its own staff, who traditionally have devoted their attention to development rather than relief. The UN Volunteers Program, a member of the UNDP family, has greatly expanded its involvement in emergencies. Establishing a Humanitarian Relief Unit in 1991, in less than three years the agency had upward of 300 volunteers working at subsistence pay in overseas placements (90 percent in complex emergencies, 10 percent in natural disasters), and plans further growth. The program's burgeoning workload and closer association with UN peacekeeping activities provide a microcosm of the evolution of UN secouristes as a whole. 5 The major post-Cold War secouriste innovation, of limited success to date, has been the UN Department of Humanitarian Affairs (DHA). Established in April 1992 following the unsatisfactory UN response to the needs of the Kurds in northern Iraq a year earlier,6 DHA's assigned task is to coordinate the UN system's response to humanitarian crises. Based in New York but with a major presence in Geneva, DHA chairs and staffs meetings among UN aid agencies, orchestrates joint fund-raising appeals for the UN system, carries out humanitarian diplomacy with governments to expand access to distressed populations, and liases with UN secouristes. The family of UN secouristes also includes the UN' s principal human rights body, the Geneva-based Commission on Human Rights. The commission's operational arm, the UN Centre for Human Rights, staffed by UN secretariat personnel, monitors human rights concerns. As part of its global watch over

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human rights matters, governments that make up the commission occasionally dispatch rapporteurs to investigate particular crises in specific countries. From time to time, the United Nations also creates special entities such as the Commission of Experts, set up by the Security Council to investigate grave breaches of international law in the former Yugoslavia. UN human rights work has also undergone positive evolution in recent years. In Cambodia, the UN' s assignment included "fostering an environment in which respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms was ensured," although the direct role played by the commission and center was limited. 7 Confronted by massive human rights abuses in the former Yugoslavia, the commission held emergency sessions concerning specific countries for the first time. Its rapporteur was mandated to report to the UN General Assembly and, for the first time in the commission's history, to the Security Council. Field staff were dispatched to the region, although their numbers and timing left a great deal to be desired. 8 Beyond humanitarian and human rights organizations, the UN family of secouristes includes-in widening circles-the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), the United Nations Industrial Development Organization (UNIDO), the International Labour Organisation (ILO), and the Bretton Woods institutions (the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund). These institutions do not play major roles during armed conflicts but swing into action as conflicts recede and reconstruction and development prospects improve. The UN interagency mission to the former Yugoslavia in early 1994 included representatives of many such organizations as well as staff from the International Organization for Migration, the International Committee of the Red Cross, and nongovernmental groups. Beyond the secouristes, the companion securists include some agencies engaged in direct humanitarian support and others whose tasks are linked more to security. The major actors are the Department of Peacekeeping Operations (DPKO) and the Department of Political Affairs (DPA), the Security Council, and the Secretary-General. Their functions are discussed in other chapters, especially in Chapter 4. However, a brief discussion with particular reference to these actors' links to humanitarian actors is in order here. DPKO sets up and manages peacekeeping operations authorized by the Security Council. Those initiatives are increasingly geared toward protecting humanitarian operations, as in Somalia and Bosnia. In addition to providing counsel on security matters, escorting convoys, and occasionally transporting and distributing relief supplies, UN troops often affect the political and security climate in which humanitarian activities are carried out. UN peacekeeping initiatives may also include civilian police, electoral supervisors, and human rights monitors. In the case of Cambodia, the United Nations had roles in areas of finance, information, public information, and security as well. The Department of Political Affairs, the Security Council, and the Secre-

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tary-General also influence the security context. DPA monitors tensions around the world, carries out ongoing analyses of political hot spots, briefs the Secretary-General, and provides support for UN diplomatic troubleshooting and conflict resolution efforts. In major crises in which the Secretary-General is represented by a special representative to whom the UN in-country humanitarian coordinator reports, DPA serves as the link between that person and the UN executive head. The Security Council is the UN organ with primary responsibility for maintaining international peace and security. In the wake of the Cold War, the council has come to view population displacement and violations of human rights as serious threats to international peace. In a significant departure from tradition, it now addresses regularly, if not altogether consistently, problems of perceived international consequence within individual countries. Its actions have brought a new level of political prominence to humanitarian values and have subjected those values to greater political manipulation. The Secretary-General has been increasingly occupied with humanitarian matters. On a number of occasions, Boutros Boutros-Ghali has become directly involved in humanitarian crises or has goaded the Security Council into becoming involved. In July 1992, he chided the Security Council for devoting more attention to the "rich man's war" in the former Yugoslavia than to the worsening crisis in Somalia. In February 1993, he criticized UNHCR's suspension of relief efforts in eastern Bosnia and demanded reinstatement of relief work. In May 1994, he decried the "failure not only of the United Nations but also of the international community" to prevent genocide in Rwanda. 9 The complexity of the tasks faced by UN secouristes and the new levels of involvement of UN securists in humanitarian action raise crucial issues for the evolving humanitarian enterprise. Humanitarian activities of nongovernmental organizations and the International Committee of the Red Cross are affected as well.

The Issues Recent experience frames in bold relief a number of key issues for the evolving humanitarian enterprise. Some of the issues are conceptual, others are operational. Some concern the secouristes in their own right, others concern their interaction with securists. Primary among the conceptual issues is lww humanitarian action is conceived. As presented earlier and as popularly understood, humanitarian action encompasses both assistance and protection. That is, it involves both meeting basic human needs for such essentials as food, shelter, and medical care and protecting basic human rights such as the right to be secure in one's person and free from persecution. The two categories overlap: There is a fundamental

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right to humanitarian assistance, and human rights encompass economic and social as well as political rights. Traditionally, however, assistance and protection have been approached as separate activities carried out by distinct sets of organizations. Since their inception, UN and other aid agencies have usually assisted distressed populations after they have crossed an international border or, within their country of origin, under ground rules agreed to with the regime in power. For their part, human rights institutions have sought to monitor conditions that give rise to displacement, although they have often had even less access than relief organizations. Considerations of sovereignty have blocked assistance and protection activities within states whose regimes were given wide latitude in the treatment of their populations. Although concerned with similar if not identical populations and problems, the two sets of humanitarian actors typically have not seen themselves as engaged in a common endeavor. Recent developments, however, have created havoc with the established division of labor. From Afghanistan to Angola, from El Salvador to the Sudan, abusing the fundamental human rights of civilians has been not just an outcome of war but also an explicit strategy of belligerents. Warring parties have thrown down the gauntlet to the international community, challenging its commitment to protect and assist victims. The result has been instructive. On one hand, commonalities have emerged with new clarity. Human rights monitors can alert humanitarian aid organizations to serious human needs, and relief personnel can flag human rights abuses. On the other hand, tensions between assistance and protection providers have become more apparent. Protecting human rights in places such as Bosnia has meant helping people flee genocidal surroundings, whereas providing assistance to them in their home areas has meant leaving them vulnerable to continued abuse. Another key conceptual issue concerns how humanitarian need is understood. In recent years, the idea of a "relief-to-development continuum" has gained currency among theoreticians and is now beginning to affect the operational approach of practitioners. A humanitarian emergency is viewed not as an isolated set of events or a particular state of affairs that requires a quick response with specific inputs. Rather, it is seen as a stage in the evolution of a society, with complex historical, political, social, and economic roots and consequences. Such an approach requires rethinking relief, reconstruction, and development as distinct activities by separate agencies to provide food, build infrastructure, or boost incomes. How a crisis is conceived and the response it receives, from local authorities or the international community, have a major bearing on a society's ability to reduce its vulnerability to future emergencies. Relief efforts can empower--or marginalize-local institutions and leadership. Participants at a recent workshop for UN staff in complex emergencies noted that in order to contribute to empowerment, "donors should address disasters in the context of development.

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... The UN system should as a matter of urgency examine and devise innovative ways of using relief for rehabilitation, reinforcing subsequent development. " 10 Recent crises have dramatized the fact that behind many failed states are failed development strategies. These crises have highlighted the importance of effective strategies that nip emergencies in the bud or, better yet, prevent them even from budding. There is a vicious cycle, however, in that resources that could have been used for long-term development have been preempted for emergencies. Donor countries are now more interested in alleviating the immediate problem than in underwriting more effective development strategies to prevent future crises. "Donor fatigue" has become a household word, even though its extent is debatable and its tenor, from a donor standpoint, selfserving.11 There is also fatigue on the receiving end among societies bruised by the Cold War and angered by dwindling resources for development. "Over our carcasses, the ideological giants locked horns," said Ambassador Kofi N. Awoonoer of Ghana, General Assembly spokesperson for the Group of77. "Not much clean water, or vaccines, or books accompanied enterprises of such historical moment." Awoonoer articulated the need among poorer countries, whose situation is even more perilous now than during the Cold War, for sustained and effective aid to address underdevelopment, the "grim and merciless reality [upon which this] relentless human tragedy is grounded." 12 Given that the rising demands of major emergencies and the higher cost of responding after crises have become irreversible, the international community now has more fires to fight than it can handle. In fact, it has already begun to apply triage. Reflecting political considerations rather than humanitarian extremity, the United Nations has said no to peacekeeping in Burundi but yes in Rwanda, no to the assertive protection of humanitarian operations in the Sudan but yes to neighboring Somalia. A key element in resisting the use of triage is a better understanding of the interplay-positive as well as negative-among relief, reconstruction, and development. 13 A third conceptual building block in the evolving humanitarian system concerns how conflict is perceived. Whereas in an earlier day wars were not difficult to identify, the shift from interstate to intrastate war has required a more dynamic understanding of conflict. Civil strife is now a more pervasive reality for developing societies and international secouristes. It is present in one form or another and at one level or another in many communities undergoing social change, sometimes as a positive barometer rather than a negative threat. The issue is not whether conflict exists but whether its causes can be addressed and the energies it commands channeled constructively. Conceptual breakthroughs have resulted in priority being attached to conflict prevention and conflict resolution, particularly in the form of development. Effective development is now seen as helping avoid conflicts, providing a sense of participation in fragile political economies, and consolidating negotiated arrangements to end warfare. More time is needed, however, before a more

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appropriate balance is struck-in resources, institutional capacity, and knowhow-between conflict prevention and conflict resolution on the one hand and humanitarian remediation on the other. The experience of Operation Lifeline Sudan provides a telling example of the necessary rebalancing. With an eye in early 1989 to stanching the wounds of the Sudan's civil war, which in 1988 had claimed 250,000 lives, the United Nations persuaded the government and the insurgent Sudan People's Liberation Movement to allow massive outside emergency assistance. In the first six months this aid prevented countless deaths from starvation and warfare. Yet more than five years later the war continues to victimize the civilian population. There is a growing realization that what is required first and foremost is not larger amounts of aid but rather augmented pressure for peace. In the words of one UN official, there are already "enough people on the humanitarian side." 14 The growing sense that conflict is a more serious threat to development than was earlier understood does not imply that conflict must cease before reconstruction and development commence. "The response to conflict situations should always contain elements of relief, rehabilitation, reconstruction, and development with the emphasis changing to reflect the predominant stage the situation has reached," concluded one discussion. "Whatever the nature of the assistance, it should be designed and implemented in a manner that will foster sustainable development in the future." 15 A final issue of pivotal importance to the emerging humanitarian system and the UN role concerns how relationships between the humanitarian and the political-military spheres are understood. As the interactions multiply, they require continued analysis and reflection. Are humanitarian considerations important in their own right or as one element in a broader political vision? During the Cold War, the superpowers subsumed humanitarian action under geopolitical imperatives. The location of suffering and the political stripes of a particular state played a major role in the perception of need and the response provided. Those suffering from drought or floods in Vietnam or from lack of health care in Cuba were largely denied aid-emergency as well as longer term-the U.S.-led international community. Refugees fleeing communist regimes had readier access to asylum in the West than those fleeing right-wing dictatorships. The Soviet Union and its allies politicized relationships in the opposite direction. During the early post-Cold War period, the pendulum has swung in a different direction. Rather than making humanitarianism subservient to political action, humanitarian efforts have often taken the place of political actions. Humanitarian action in the Sudan, to recall the earlier example, has been pursued with inadequate attention to the more difficult task of ending the war that perpetuates the carnage and requires fresh infusions of outside succor. In the former Yugoslavia, consensus about how to counter egregious violations of human rights and territoriality has proved elusive. In the words of one analyst, "We have chosen to respond to major unlawful violence, not by

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stopping that violence, but by trying to provide relief to the suffering. But our choice of policy allows the suffering to continue." 16 At a practical level, the damage to the integrity of humanitarian efforts has been substantial. "People look at us as if to say, 'We know you're feeding us to compensate for the fact that your governments won't act,"' observed one NGO worker in Sarajevo. 17 The debate over "humanitarian intervention" illustrates the current confusion about humanitarian and political linkages. Some policymakers find military force appropriate and necessary in furthering humanitarian objectives. Others insist that coercion does violence to the essentially consensual nature of humanitarian action, creating practical problems for the aid enterprise as well. Even the term itself sparks disagreement. Some view humanitarian intervention as a new and welcome reality in post-Cold W arpolitics. Others find it a violation of international law, which stipulates humanitarian access as a right and renders intervention moot. 18 It is noteworthy that viewpoints on this issue do not diverge primarily along secouriste/securist lines. In Somalia in November 1992, some humanitarian agencies urged more military presence to support humanitarian operations, and others discouraged it. Opinion is also divided within the politico-military side of the United Nations and within the foreign offices and defense ministries of member states. Some see an enhanced humanitarian support role for the military as its major post-Cold War mission; others view acceptance of such a role as perilous or diversionary. Economic sanctions raise comparable issues. However harsh their consequences on civilian populations, sanctions are viewed in some quarters as preferable to military force, whose damage is seen as more indiscriminate. Others believe the appropriateness of sanctions is called into question by the suffering they have caused. Some view the newfound attention of the Security Council to humanitarian distress, expressed in its approval of economic sanctions and military action, as positive. Others caution against the politicization of humanitarian action, which they see as the inevitable result of the selectivity in the council's approach. Achieving a broader and more informed consensus on issues such as these four-how human need is understood and how humanitarian action relates to conflict, development, and the political sphere--constitutes the unfinished conceptual business of the United Nations and the international community. The emerging consensus will have major implications for how the United Nations structures its institutions and how it tackles its work.

Options and Implications The humanitarian enterprise in late 1994 finds the United Nations at a fork in the road. The likely expansion of internal armed conflicts in many parts of the Third and former Second Worlds promises a rich array of challenges to the UN

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system, secouristes and securists alike. In responding to the continuing calls for multifunctional operations, there are, broadly speaking, three roads out of the fork. UN activities of succor may be integrated into the organization's overarching objectives, which are by definition political. Commenting on the changing context in which the United Nations functions, Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali, in his book An Agenda for Peace of June 1992, noted that whereas 279 vetoes cast in the Security Council during the Cold War rendered the United Nations powerless to deal with many major conflicts, no vetoes had been cast since May 1990. The United Nations and its security arm have emerged as "a central instrument for the prevention and resolution of conflicts and for the preservation of peace." Addressing ''the deepest causes of conflict: economic despair, social injustice and political oppression," he observed, contributes to peace. 19 The integration route would lodge UN humanitarian activities more clearly within the political rubric framed by the Security Council, implemented by the Secretary-General, and carried out by the Departments of Peacekeeping and Political Affairs. The political-military United Nations would assume a bigger role in humanitarian operations. This approach would continue and consolidate a trend of recent years, although by late 1994 the Secretary-General and the Security Council were showing new caution in implementing the peace enforcement element in An Agenda for Peace. Under the second route, UN activities of succor would be more fully insulated from the political-military aspects of the world organization. Acknowledging that UN secouristes are part and parcel of a world body that has overarching political objectives, the insulation approach nonetheless affirms the indispensibility of strong and, to the furthest extent possible, independent humanitarian activities to the success of the broader UN political agenda. The insulation route is exemplified in a statement by UNICEF Executive Director James P. Grant before the UN Commission on Human Rights: ''We recognize that sanctions are a necessary tool for international action, occupying the middle-ground between rhetorical resolutions and the use of armed force. Sanctions must, however, be applied in a manner in which children of poor families-the most vulnerable and, I might add, the most innocent in a society--do not suffer most cruelly." Grant concluded, "Without renouncing the non-military mechanisms of international pressure wisely provided in the Charter, it should be possible to refine our existing tools-or to develop others-so that children are not major and unintended victims of particular sanctions."20 A third route would separate certain humanitarian activities in particular circumstances from the United Nations altogether and have other actors perform them. Proponents of this approach believe problems created for the integrity of humanitarian operations by their association with UN political-military action are so fundamental that best efforts at insulation will ultimately fail. "Under the

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same colors," said one observer of the UN system, "you cannot be both good guys and bad guys at the same time."21 Other institutions are indeed available to carry out specific humanitarian tasks, particularly with the proliferation of nonstate actors in the wake of the Cold War. These include the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), nongovernmental organizations, and the good offices of prominent individuals. Although such actors are beyond the scope of this particular chapter, they have indispensable contributions to make to a more effective humanitarian regime, contributions that may remain largely untapped under the integration or insulation routes. Advocates of the separation route put forward different candidates to assume responsibility in situations in which the United Nations cannot. In the view of James C. Ingram, former executive director of the UN World Food Programme, "Reducing the humanitarian costs of conflicts might be better achieved by accepting the logic of the ICRC' s custodianship of humanitarian law, its political neutrality, and its operational effectiveness, and building on these strengths or, alternatively, creating a new body outside the United Nations." Other analysts who disagree with Ingram's nomination of the International Committee of the Red Cross nonetheless agree with him that the international community is "haltingly building a pluralistic multilateral world order, many of the elements of which are not contained within the United Nations system."22 The best indicator of the path the United Nations will take at the fork is suggested in a paper entitled "Protection of Humanitarian Mandates in Conflict Situations." Drafted under the first UN Under-Secretary-General for Humanitarian Affairs, Jan Eliasson, before his departure in late March 1994, the statement reflects two years of discussions of the DHA Inter-Agency Standing Committee with the Departments of Peacekeeping and Political Affairs. Although changes may still be made in the version circulating in July 1994, the broad directions are clear. The paper situates UN humanitarian action squarely within the post-Cold War context described earlier. ''The increasing demand for international action in internal conflicts reflects a new dimension in international relations," it notes. "Actions by the Security Council to resolve conflicts, to keep or enforce peace or implement peace agreements within the borders of a country are becoming more numerous. As a consequence, the political, military and humanitarian dimensions interrelate in multifaceted United Nations operations." 23 Against this backdrop, the paper supports the integrationist approach. "Given the interrelated causes and consequences of complex emergencies, humanitarian action cannot be fully effective unless it is related to a comprehensive strategy for peace and security, human rights and social and economic development as proposed within the framework of the Agenda for Peace. Increasingly, the trend is for an integrated United Nations presence in conflict situations to obtain the objectives of peace. Often humanitarian personnel are

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working together with peacekeeping forces." Since political, military, and humanitarian objectives "can be carried out effectively in integrated and unified operations," the paper proposes operational guidelines "to provide a framework for reconciling [these] objectives."24 But the paper takes the insulationist route as well. Because "humanitarian and political objectives do not necessarily coincide," UN humanitarian organizations should "maintain a certain degree of independence from UN-authorized political and/or military activities .... Humanitarian organizations are responsible for and should enjoy autonomy in accordance with their mandates."25 Although UN personnel within integrated field operations necessarily report to the special representative of the Secretary-General (that is, through political channels), they are also entitled to maintain links to their own UN organizations. A decision by the special representative or the Secretary-General to suspend humanitarian operations or withdraw personnel for security reasons must involve consultations with DHA. Eliasson's successor, Peter Hansen, has embraced the paper's integrationist-cum-insulationist approach. He has reorganized DHA to reflect his conviction that "properly organized, staffed, and managed, [the department] can meet the challenge of not only providing leadership to the coordination of emergency relief assistance, but also contribute to the overall peace-building efforts of the United Nations." His decision to locate the complex emergency and policy analysis branches in New York rather than in Geneva has sent an integrationist message. Yet he has also conveyed a commitment toward building up DHA's capacity to be "a strong humanitarian advocate" vis-a-vis the political-military United Nations. 26 The evolution of DHA demonstrates the changing character of inter national emergencies and of the UN response. When created in 1992, DHA absorbed and built upon the UN Disaster Relief Office (UNDRO). Created in 1971, UNDRO had been based in Geneva, "the humanitarian capital of the world," with only token representation in New York and a preoccupation with natural disasters. Under DHA early on, a larger proportion of staff was based in New York, managing a portfolio focused increasingly on complex emergencies. A DHA reorganization in 1994 by newly appointed Under-Secretary-General Hansen promises to continue the trend, stressing the humanitarian element in multifunctional UN operations and a stronger advocacy voice with the political-military United Nations. Although DHA will retain a strong staff complement in Geneva, that city's status as the humanitarian capital may be eroded over time. Given political and institutional realities, Hansen's choice was probably predictable and, in a broad sense, realistic. His compromise acknowledges the limitations of both integration and insulation. The danger in making no clear-cut choice and no major structural changes, however, is that in straddling the roads at the fork, UN humanitarian action may end up in a thicket. Apart from how problems between secouristes and securists are conceived

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and addressed, major issues among UN humanitarian agencies themselves also require attention. Confronting instances of egregious turf protection, DHA has not been able to harmonize action among these agencies, to sharpen the definition of priorities, or to improve community-wide effectiveness. This problem is larger than DHA, which lacks the clout to introduce essential changes. Moreover, even had DHA in the early going earned the respect and cooperation of the UN aid agencies, human rights remain outside its portfolio. Further, its connection with development programs, which are to have their own Under-Secretary-General, remains unclear.

Conclusion Recent experience suggests that in active civil wars in which the United Nations plays a major role-as negotiator of political settlements, as implementer of economic sanctions, as enforcer of military determination-neither the integrationist nor the insulationist line has produced effective humanitarian action. The threats to the integrity of such action are far more serious and structural than the United Nations has been prepared to face. In late 1990 the UN Security Council, intent on moving from economic pressure to military force in confronting Iraq, did not seek the views of UN humanitarian agencies, represented in Baghdad at the time by organizations such as the World Food Programme. UN and other secouristes were not consulted as the December 1992 Unified Task Force (UNITAF) landing in Mogadishu was planned. The UN Human Rights Centre was not involved in UN planning for politico-military activities that would have direct consequences for human rights-in theaters such as Cambodia, El Salvador, and Haiti. The disconnects in the former Yugoslavia were even more searing and dysfunctional. UN secouristes were unwelcome in Croatia because of the continued presence of Serb forces in Croatia's "UN-protected areas." UN aid workers encountered hostility in Bosnia because of the UN's perceived political tilt against Muslims and because of well-publicized incidents in which UN troops had prevented the flight of Muslims from the country. Upon arrival in Muslim communities, aid officials felt it necessary to introduce themselves as representatives of "the good United Nations" and not the "bad United Nations." In Serbia and Montenegro, the damage to the health and welfare of the local population as a result of UN economic sanctions far outstripped the value of the UN humanitarian aid to those affected by the war. UN sanctions also delayed relief supplies, made aid programs harder to administer, and fueled growing official and popular resistance to cooperating with the United Nations on its political agenda. ''Trying to implement a humanitarian program in a sanctions environment," said a senior UN secouriste, "represents a fundamental contradiction.'m Other tensions as well included the pressure to moderate criticisms of ethnic cleansing in order to keep aid routes open and the willingness in some quarters

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to call off prosecutions of war crimes in return for a negotiated end to the conflict. As the war progressed, UN solicitousness in Geneva toward belligerent leaders who were prosecuting the war with a vengeance back home drew increasing criticism. For their part, UN diplomatic and military personnel had their own grievances with the Security Council for undermining their credibility and effectiveness. Given problems as fundamental and schizophrenic as these, the integrity of humanitarian action would be best served by abandoning the effort to incorporate such action fully into the political-military United Nations. A preferable strategy would be more frankly insulationist at some points and more clearly separationist at others. Why expect UN humanitarian organizations and personnel to assist civilian populations in hot wars when UN troops are present without the consent of the belligerents or when UN economic sanctions have been imposed? Perhaps in such settings the United Nations should relieve its secouristes from involvement altogether, relying instead on a special cadre of securists within the Department of Peacekeeping to take over humanitarian tasks until civilian practitioners can return. The international community could also turn to non-UN entities such as the ICRC. Conversely, why assume that the United Nations should be the central humanitarian and political-military player in such settings? The United Nations might remain largely behind the scenes on the political-military side but be active on the humanitarian side, as it did fora time in the Liberian civil war. When the war erupted in late 1989, an initiative by the Economic Community of West African States (ECOW AS) tackled the problem with a combination of diplomatic and military pressure. UN involvement was limited initially to humanitarian activities, which were reasonably successful. With the arrival in Liberia in 1992 of the Secretary-General's special representative and greater UN involvement in political-military matters, problems developed between UN secouristes and securists. UN political officials discouraged UN aid agencies from assisting in insurgent-controlled areas in the interest of promoting a peace process that was then at a critical stage. However, had the United Nations not associated itself so directly with the political-military action led by ECOWAS, a humanitarian-led UN presence might have worked to "discourage the worst atrocities, achieve greater neutrality and accessibility of aid, and even pay political dividends."28 Alternatives that require such major conceptual and institutional innovation generate strong opposition. The idea of turning humanitarian tasks over to the political-military United Nations meets with resistance from UN aid executives whose mandates entitle them to be involved. (Such a radical suggestion strikes a more responsive chord with their embattled staff on the front lines.) Conversely, discouraging direct UN political-military involvement implies the existence of tasks beyond the competence of the world's premier political organization. It is difficult to discourage UN involvement on either front, even though simultaneous UN activity on both fronts creates problems.

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The international community has a unique opportunity at a time of eroding sovereignty to capitalize on a growing desire to meet basic human needs and protect basic human rights within national borders. Yet early efforts by the United Nations to do so, groping for the proper mix of policy instruments and the best division of labor among actors in the new generation of multifunctional operations, have been unsatisfactory. The world does not have a great deal to show for its initial round of postCold War humanitarian initiatives. The experiences reviewed in this book demonstrate the obstacles faced and the mixed results achieved. Although the record is not altogether negative, the more restrained response to the tragedies in Rwanda and Haiti suggests that the high-water mark of assertive humanitarianism may have passed. It would compound the existing tragedies, however, if the results of recent efforts were to discourage a more active global concern for human needs. Instead, the international community needs to ponder its experience more deeply, building on the positive and learning from the negative. Painful though the early post-Cold War baptism by emergency may have been, key issues have been identified. They require hard-headed reflection and decisive redress. They include the need to devise strategies for achieving a better balance between resources for emergencies and for development and the need to determine how far the application of economic sanctions is compatible with the pursuit of humanitarian values. Institutionally speaking, the most crucial issue is the extent to which the UN system itself should be viewed as central to all future humanitarian action. If an omnipurpose, omnifunctional, and omnipresent United Nations is neither conceptually consistent nor institutionally realistic in today' s civil wars, UN humanitarian organizations need to be deployed in more focused and delimited ways that reflect their comparative advantage. At the same time, more major and multifaceted responsibilities should be assumed by nonstate actors, which have already demonstrated their willingness and ability to do so despite serious limitations of resources, institutional capacity, and scale. 29 Perhaps the most critically needed element in the evolutionary process is an all-embracing vision that views humanitarian action comprehensively and that affirms the importance of humanitarian values in their own right, not simply as a means to attain stated political objectives. In the final analysis, universal respect for and effective implementation of humanitarian values, inclusively understood, represent the foundation of lasting international peace and security.Jo

Notes 1. Peter J. Fromuth, "The Making of a Security Community: The United Nations After the Cold War," Journal of International Affairs 46, no. 2 (Winter 1993): 344.

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2. Canadian Institute of Strategic Studies, Peacekeeping & International Relations (March-Aprill994): 2-3. 3. UN Department of Humanitarian Affairs, Consolidated Inter-Agency Humanitarian Assistance Appeals: Summary of Requirements and Contributions (Geneva: DHA, April 20, 1994). The aggregate figure of $523 million includes different time periods and excludes funds for Mozambique and Afghanistan. 4. Sadako Ogata, The State ofthe World's Refugees: The Challenge of Protection (New York: Penguin Books, 1993), 170. Cf. also Francis M. Deng, Protecting the Dispossessed: A Challenge for the International Community (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution, 1993). 5. United Nations Volunteers, Meeting the Humanitarian Challenge (Geneva: UN Development Programme, April1994). 6. See Larry Minear and Thomas G. Weiss, "Groping and Coping in the Gulf Crisis: Discerning the Shape of the New Humanitarian Order," World Policy Journal9, no. 4 (Fall-Winter 1992): 755-778. 7. Cf. J arat Chopra, United Nations Authority in Cambodia, Occasional Paper #15 (Providence: Thomas J. Watson Jr. Institute for International Studies, 1993), 2. 8. For a more extended discussion, cf. Larry Minear, Jeffrey Clark, Roberta Cohen, Dennis Gallagher, lain Guest, and Thomas G. Weiss, Humanitarian Action in the Former Yugoslavia: The U.N.'s Role, 1991-93, Occasional Paper #18 (Providence: Thomas J. Watson Jr. Institute for International Studies, 1994), 83-92. 9. For the Secretary-General's comment on Yugoslavia, see Trevor Rowe, "Aid to Somalia Stymied," Washington Post, July 29, 1992. For his action on the former Yugoslavia, cf. Minear et al., Humanitarian Action in the Former Yugoslavia, 160. For his statement on Rwanda, cf. UN Press Release SG/SM/5295, May 25, 1994,4-5. 10. "Summary Recommendations and Conclusions," UN Disaster Management Training Programme Workshop for Resident Coordinators on Slow Onset of Complex Emergencies, Nyeri, Kenya, May 2-5, 1994. 11. For comments that dispute the prevalence of "donor fatigue," cf. Judith Randel and Tony German (eds. ), The Reality ofAid 94: An Independent Review ofInternational Aid (London: Actionaid, 1994). 12. Kofi N. Awoonor, ''The Concerns of Recipient Nations," in Kevin Cahill (ed.), A Framework for Survival: Health, Human Rights, and Humanitarian Assistance in Conflicts and Disasters (New York: Basic Books, 1993), 67, 69. 13. This point is elaborated in the final chapter of Larry Minear and Thomas G. Weiss, Mercy Under Fire: War and the Global Humanitarian Community (Boulder: Westview Press, forthcoming). 14. Quoted in John Prendergast, Sudanese Rebels at a Crossroads: Opponunities for Building Peace in a Shattered Land (Washington, D.C.: Center of Concern, 1994), 35. 15. "Concluding Statement of the Paris Colloquium on Development Within Conflict: The Challenge of Man-Made Disasters," (Paris: Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development Centre, May 3-June 1, 1994). 16. Rosalyn Higgins, "The New United Nations and Former Yugoslavia," International Affairs 69, no. 3 (1993): 469. 17. Quoted in Minear et al., Humanitarian Action in the Former Yugoslavia, 6. 18. For further discussion, cf. Thomas G. Weiss, "Intervention: Whither the United Nations?" Washington Quarterly 17, no. 1 (Winter 1994): 109-128. 19. Boutros Boutros-Ghali, An Agenda for Peace: Preventive Diplomacy, Peacemaking and Peace-Keeping (New York: United Nations, 1992), 7-8. Although since the publication of this report a veto has been cast over a financing issue, the Secretary-General's basic point remains valid.

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20. James P. Grant, "What It Means to Be Human: The Challenge of Respecting Children's Rights in the 1990s," Remarks to the UN Commission on Human Rights, Geneva, March 8, 1994, delivered by Stephen Lewis. 21. Off-the-record interview with the author. 22. James C. Ingram, in Thomas G. Weiss and Larry Minear (eds. ), Humanitarianism Across Borders: Sustaining Civilians in Times ofWar(Boulder: LynneRienner Publishers, 1993), 192. 23. Department of Humanitarian Affairs, "Protection of Humanitarian Mandates in Conflict Situations" (New York: United Nations, Aprill3, 1994), 1. 24. Ibid., 1, 2, 4, and Annex, 1. 25. Ibid., 2, 8. 26. Peter Hansen, Under-Secretary-General for Humanitarian Affairs, Letter to All DHA Staff, June 6, 1994, 1. 27. Judith Kumin, quoted in Minear et al., Humanitarian Action in the Former Yugoslavia, 97. 28. Colin Scott, "Hard to Be Humanitarian in Africa," Providence Journal-Bulletin, June 30, 1994, A18. 29. For an exploration of such alternatives, cf. Leon Gordenker and Thomas G. Weiss (eds.), Nongovernmental Organizations: The Democratization of Global Governance, special issue of the Third World Quarterly 16, no. 3 (1995). 30. This concluding statement paraphrases Gervase Coles's observation that "it is respect for, and implementation of, human rights, which is the foundation of peace and security, not vice-versa" in "Facing the Problem of Mass Movement Today," United Nations Fund for Population Activities: The StateofWorldPopulation 1993 (New York: United Nations Fund for Population Activities, 1993), 34.

• Part 3 • Recent UN Operations in Internal Armed Conflicts

• 7. The United Nations' Predicament in the Former Yugoslavia -----------

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Even though the United Nations has gained greater esteem since the end of the Cold War, the major European powers did not call upon it as the situation in Yugoslavia deteriorated in 1991. On the contrary, the European Union (EU) 1 informed, rather than consulted, the United States and the Soviet Union of its activities. The United Nations, with its institutions for conflict management, was ignored as the EU-in an unusual act of foreign policy confidence-took the lead. 2 The United Nations became involved in the situation in autumn 1991 as European attempts to deal with the crisis proved inept. The initial focus was on securing a cease-fire in Croatia. However, as the political crisis deepened and the war spread, the UN role expanded. The United Nations gradually became the focal point of international endeavor; it cooperated with the EU on political initiatives and with the Western European Union (WEU) and the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) when military operations were considered. Despite this, the conflict spread from one part of the former republic to the other. Attempts at mediation bogged down repeatedly. Sanctions and blockades did not discipline the combatants and the humanitarian relief operations suffered from lack of security and at times from poor management. On the military side, UN peacekeeping proved inadequate. Consequently, developments on the battlefield led to a gradual and poorly planned expansion of the missionnumerically, geographically, and functionally. By early 1994, UN involvement was written off as a failure. The UN-EU mediators were widely criticized for assisting Serb aggressors. Humanitarian relief organizations threatened to withdraw. The way in which peacekeepers were used was labeled "misuse of peacekeeping."3 The political and military situation in Croatia was deadlocked. In Bosnia, the conflict had taken on a life of its own, particularly as the Muslim-Croat alliance gradually broke down in 1993. This situation changed suddenly in March-April1994. AU .S. initiative led to appeasement between Muslims and Croats. Russian diplomatic involvement and NATO military pressure showed signs of disciplining the Serbs. A contact 109

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Map 7.1 The Former Yugoslavia

Source: Adapted from United Nations materials, October 1993. Notes: !I'H UN Protected Areas (UNPAs) The boundaries and designations shown on this map do not imply official endorsement or acceptance by the United Nations.

group consisting of Russia, the United States, and the three major countries in the EU (France, Germany, and Britain) replaced the EU-UN mediators as the focal point in the negotiations. Although the situation is unclear at the time of this writing, since the Bosnia Serbs have rejected a take-it-or-leave-it partition plan, a new phase has emerged that might eventually end large-scale hostilities. But this will not bring about the peace the EU and the United Nations foresaw as the war commenced, nor is peace likely to be stable. In fact, unless the contact group is able to maintain the momentum, the situation might again become like that of early 1994-or worse.

The Conflict Yugoslavia exploded when Slovenia and Croatia declared independence on June 25, 1991. The war was the product of a conflict that had numerous

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dimensions and intractable roots. Consequently, this war has been variously described as one of aggression, of ethnic conflict, of civil divisions, or of genocide, depending on who is characterizing the war or which subconflict is being discussed. The conflict can be perceived as consisting of at least three interconnected struggles. The first conflict, which triggered the war, involves the northwestern region of Slovenia, Croatia, and Serbia. The second conflict is centered on Bosnia-Herzegovina and the relationship among the Serbs, Croats, and Muslims. The third conflict, still under some sort of control, involves the southern ethnic triangle-the Serbs, Albanians, and Macedonians. Leaving aside the ethnic animosities, which are important in all three conflicts, the conflict in the northwest is primarily constitutional; its roots go back to the establishment of Yugoslavia in 1918. The Serbs wanted a centralized state, the Croats and Slovenes wanted a confederation. Post-World War II constitutional reforms consistently went in the Croats' and Slovenes' favor. However, as the Serbian leader Slobodan Milosevic commenced his militant Serb nationalistic policy in the mid-1980s, separatist movements in Slovenia and Croatia grew. Fueled by Yugoslavia's economic problems and simultaneous international upheavals, the situation deteriorated rapidly in 1990 and 1991. Although the Yugoslavia National Army (JNA) and the Serb leadership tried to avoid national disintegration, they made a distinction between the republics. Ethnically homogeneous Slovenia fought a short and limited war before Belgrade lost interest. Croatia, with its large Serb minority, was different. Serbs in Croatia had long argued that if Croatia left Yugoslavia, they would leave Croatia. The Croat declaration of independence thereby became a declaration of war. As fighting commenced, local Serbs and the JNA took control of30 percent of the territory. The war led to huge refugee movements and thousands of casualties. From early 1992 onward, the conflict became more static and politically deadlocked as UN soldiers were deployed. The central conflict, or the war in Bosnia-Herzegovina, was unleashed as the northern republics were recognized. Interethnic relations in Bosnia were particularly volatile. Serbs, Croats, and Muslims were scattered across the republic. The Muslims constituted the largest nation, followed by Serbs and Croats. 4 With the recognition of the independence of Slovenia and Croatia, Bosnian Croats lost interest in keeping Bosnia within Yugoslavia. The Muslims allied with the Croats. This situation led to the Serb military campaign in the spring and summer 1992, when most of the land grab took place. The result was a humanitarian tragedy of enormous dimensions. Those who did not escape became subject to a vicious policy of "ethnic cleansing." The humanitarian tragedy continued to build, even though the situation on the ground involved fewer changes in territorial control after late 1992. All sides targeted civilians, which made humanitarian operations exceedingly difficult despite the introduction of a UN force in late 1992. UN-EU mediation proved equally fruitless. The initial military asymmetry gradually became more balanced as the government forces became larger, better organized, and better equipped. How-

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ever, a breakdown in Croat-Muslim relations took place during 1993, which created a puzzling political and military picture. A U.S.-brokered agreement reestablished the Croat-Muslim alliance in 1994 and led to further direct involvement of the major powers as a contact group was formed to take over the initiative from the EU-UN mediators. 5 The southern conflict involves Kosovo and Macedonia. Since Milosevic withdrew Kosovo's status as an autonomous province in the late 1980s, it has been highly unstable and has been characterized by Serbian repression of the Albanian majority. It is difficult to imagine how the conflict can be defused without large and unlikely Serb concessions. An explosion in Kosovo might lead Albania into the conflict and destabilize the border between Albania and the former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (FYROM). Macedonia's main danger is nevertheless the internal tensions between the Albanian minority and the Macedonians over the Albanian minority's status. Ultranationalist elements on the Albanian side want a separate Albanian state. Also, the Macedonian side has expansive nationalists who want a "greater Macedonia," including parts of Greece and Bulgaria. The conflict is therefore complex and unpredictable. In an attempt to prevent escalation, the United Nations deployed a preventive peacekeeping mission in January 1993 along the republic's borders toward Albania and Serbia. In addition, both the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) and humanitarian agencies have representatives in the area that have conflict prevention on their agendas.

Regional Conflict Management There were numerous alarming signals before the June 1991 escalation, but no serious attempts were made to prevent conflict. However, as fighting commenced, a number of European organizations became involved. The EU took the lead, in close cooperation with the CSCE and the WEU. But the results were limited for several reasons. This was the first large-scale intrastate conflict on the continent since the end of the Cold War, and these organizations lacked the mandate, experience, and structures to cope with it since they were designed to handle interstate conflicts.6 Second, the organizations were unable to pursue a consistent policy. This is illustrated by the way the EU shifted from attempting to save Yugoslavia to recognizing the secessionist states. Third, disagreements among members on how or whether to intervene weakened their leverage militarily. The result was a limited and reactive approach. The focus was on the areas that had exploded; the objective was to freeze the situation. The dynamics of the conflict were misunderstood; consequently, the international initiatives lagged notoriously. The first deployment of observers is one example. The EU decided in July 1991 to send observers to Slovenia to strengthen the cease-fire. However, by the time these people were to be deployed, Slovenia was calm. At that time,

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war was raging in Croatia, but the observers had no mandate there. When this mandate was eventually obtained, the conflict had escalated far beyond what seventy-five EU monitors could contain. 7 Attempts to find a political settlement also failed. Yugoslavia used its veto to block a CSCE peace conference. Instead, the EU convened a conference in September, which had to be suspended because of the ongoing fighting. It was reconvened in October, at which time the EU mediator presented a plan for a settlement based on a loose association among the republics; this was torpedoed by Milo~evic. This led in November to EU sanctions against Yugoslavia and gradually to the termination of the first round of European mediation. NATO limited its initial involvement to resolutions and statements to the effect that its members were "greatly concerned" and that they "followed the situation closely." The debate concerning out-of-area operations was intense within the organization as well as among member states. The military focus was on WEU, which was unable to handle this challenge. Despite French eagerness to develop WEU into the military arm of the EU, intervention required NATO support. Consequently, WEU members did not agree on anything beyond supporting the EU observers already deployed, as the towns of Vukovar and Dubrovnik were shelled in autumn 1991 for the world to witness on television.

UN Involvement It was not only the Europeans who kept the United Nations out of Yugoslavia in

the early stages. The United States, still involved in the Gulf, insisted on the logic of the UN Charter and hence felt the United Nations had no role to play unless regional attempts failed. The Soviet Union, concerned about the precedent UN intervention could set for future conflicts in Yugoslavia, insisted on noninterference. Even the UN Secretary-General was skeptical since, he argued, this was an internal Yugoslav matter. Slovene requests for deployment of UN observers were turned down because Slovenia was "not an independent UN member."8 With the WEU failure to agree on military action in September 1991 and the general exhaustion of the European initiatives, attention was refocused on the United Nations. Still, the same countries that had led the EU-WEU efforts took the lead in the Security Council, thereby maintaining the same degree of diverging views and the same unwillingness to intervene. The first UN step was to institute Security Council Resolution 713 of September 25, 1991. This resolution supported the European initiatives, invited the Secretary-General to assist the parties in securing a cease-fire, and imposed a complete arms embargo on Yugoslavia. A division oflabor emerged whereby the EU led the political process while the United Nations tried to establish a cease-fire. It seemed like a potentially successful procedure firmly within the spirit of the UN Charter: UN efforts married to regional support. But whereas the EU negotiations entered a political quagmire, the UN efforts-led by the UN

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Secretary-General's special envoy, Cyrus Vance-made gradual progress. A peacekeeping plan for Croatia was published in early December 1991. From the early days of the UN involvement in Yugoslavia, diverging views emerged among the UN secretariat and key members of the Security Council. This divergence was also seen regarding the implementation of the plan. The secretariat hesitated to get involved beyond providing humanitarian assistance until criteria for successful peacekeeping could be guaranteed. The Security Council pushed for action without being willing to provide the necessary resources for a credible force. Consequently, a confusing and contradictory approach to the situation emerged. Poor performance resulted from a combination of legal and political ambiguities over how such "new" conflicts should be handled; political reluctance to become involved; the relatively poor administrative and operational capacity of the United Nations; and the lack of procedures for cooperation among the United Nations, regional organizations, the military, and the humanitarian organizations. Although some of the shortcomings were gradually resolved, the ad hoc quality of the initial phase has hampered the overall activity to this day. The Issue of Recognition A rather confusing debate concerning the meaning of Article 2 (7) of the UN Charter-the principle of nonintervention in internal affairs of states-seriously delayed and weakened the initial response to the crisis. Problems arose over how to define the type of conflict this was and over what kind of international response was permissible, with or without the consent of the parties or of Yugoslavia. Even the UN Secretary-General was reluctant to become involved because of the claims that the legal status of UN intervention was unclear. Milosevic strongly insisted on noninterference as Europe discussed military intervention in summer 1991, and he had considerable support among, for example, many Third World countries. However, with the recognition of Croatia and Slovenia in January 1992, the conflict became de jure international. It is not clear to what extent this contributed to ending the war in Croatia, where large-scale fighting ceased at about the same time. However, the recognition of these states created new problems for the United Nations, particularly because the peacekeeping plan for Croatia, negotiated in 1991, was based on this being a civil war. For example, problems related to jurisdiction of the UN-protected areas created delays as well as operational difficulties. More fundamentally, the recognition of Croatia and Slovenia led to new requests for recognized statehood from Bosnia and Macedonia. However, when statehood was granted and war began in Bosnia, the problems were reversed. Bosnia was then de jure an independent state with a government asking for help. In addition, two external powers, Croatia and rump Yugoslavia, behaved

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aggressively by supporting separatist Bosnian Serb and Bosnian Croat forces both politically and with arms. But as the Securi~ Council proved unwilling to help the new state according to the letter of the Charter, the rhetoric changed. Rather than talking about Bosnian government, the armed factions, and the governments of Croatia and Serbia, the United Nations began to talk about the parties and the civil war. This led to a situation in which the Bosnian government was perceived on a par with the Croat and Serb faction leaders in Bosnia, whereas Franjo Tudjman, president of the Republic of Croatia, and Milosevic obtained a prominent position in the ongoing peace talks. This inconsistency was also evident in New York. In autumn 1992, the General Assembly decided to exclude Yugoslavia from its work; however, it neither suspended nor terminated Yugoslavia's UN membership. So "old Yugoslavia" is still a UN member, and the Yugoslav flag still flies outside the UN building-along with those of Bosnia, Croatia, and Slovenia. 9 Although later events have rendered irrelevant much of the debate over the UN's right to intervene in civil wars, this debate initially constrained those working for a more activist policy. Similarly, the EU and the United Nations learned from experience to approach the problem of state recognition in the midst of civil wars more carefully. This is, for course, an issue with implications far beyond Yugoslavia and the difficulties created for the operations there. Political Ambiguities and Reluctance

There were never any easy options in the former Yugoslavia The war posed a stronger challenge to norms and principles among concerned governments than a classical strategic threat would have done. The use of armed force, even collectively, to influence the course of the conflict was therefore likely to generate contradictory pressures and unsatisfactory results. Military measures are normally considered only if vital interests are at stake, and for the most part this was not the case here. 10 This fact was difficult to accept for those who recalled President Bush's New World Order. From the initial stages it became evident that the major actors or governments had varying inclinations and interests, and this created tensions in regional organizations as well as in the United Nations. Demands from the military for clear objectives before armed actions were to be taken further reduced the chances for intervention and increased the political muddle. The result was disaster. The initial policy of keeping Yugoslavia together was replaced by attempts to find compromise solutions, which, in effect, meant redrawing frontiers. Such an approach proved difficult for several reasons. First, it required the parties' willingness to compromise on territory. In Bosnia this meant the creation of territories that would be almost impossible to defend against neighbors who deeply distrusted one another. 11 Croats also insisted on one set of principles for settling the conflict at home (reintegration of the United

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Nations Protected Areas [UNPAs]) and another set of principles for Bosnia (partition). As the atrocities continued, this mediation approach came in conflict with the public demand for the defense of human rights and international law. Decisionmakers were reluctant to acknowledge the demand and were unable to oversee the defense. Consequently, a number of initiatives that had been launched either had no effect beyond creating an image of action or contradicted each other and led to more problems for UN personnel on the ground. Most of the initiatives were rhetorical since the deeply divided key actors at least agreed that nothing was to be done unless a consensus existed. 12 This led to a situation in which mediators, peacekeepers, and humanitarian agencies became the key conflict management mechanism, even though the conflict was never amenable to resolution through such treatment. In addition, the Security Council passed numerous resolutions that sided against or punished the Serbs, thus undermining efforts that depended on all parties' cooperation. But these lessons were learned gradually. It is important to recall that there were considerably fewer critics as the UN activities commenced.

Futile Peacekeeping? Special Envoy Cyrus Vance had to reconcile two contradictory perceptions of the UN peacekeeping role in Croatia, where the first deployment took place. The Serbs wanted deployment along the front line, which would help them consolidate the military situation. Croatia demanded deployment along the border, which would help it regain lost territory. The Vance plan represented a compromise: A United Nations Protection Force (UNPROFOR) was, without prejudicing the political outcome, to deploy in the areas controlled by the JNA and Serb irregulars. These regions would be demilitarized, and the JNA would withdraw from Croatia. UNPROFOR was to ensure that the UNPAs remained demilitarized and to monitor the local police, who would be responsible for law and order. The UN secretariat was skeptical about beginning operations. Several signals indicated that the parties' acceptance of the plan was shallow. But by mid-February the pressure had reached such proportions that the SecretaryGeneral recommended deployment, which began in March-April1992 (following Resolutions 740 and 743). From the onset, problems emerged. The two most pressing involved the "pink zones" and the ethnic cleansing in the UNPAs. 13 The pink zones came about because of changes on the battlefield between the time of the plan's acceptance and UNPROFOR's arrival. Certain Serb-controlled areas were suddenly outside UNPROFOR's agreed area of operation, and the Serbs wanted them to be included. Zagreb insisted on Croat control, which led to several serious incidents. Further, obstruction by local authorities in the UNPAs prevented UNPROFOR from implementing parts of the mandate that dealt with disarming fighters. Military vehicles were painted gray and became

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equipment for "police." Personnel changed from green into gray uniforms, and a regime of terror often prevailed. Even though these problems were created by uncooperative parties, inadequate UN performance added to the difficulties. The United Nations was initially unable to counter the propaganda from both sides that gave people false expectations of the UN role. The troops arrived late and were often disorganized and ill equipped. They frequently lacked understanding of their mission. Inadequate planning was obvious. Deployment of the African units in the snowiest areas is but one example. In short, UNPROFOR lacked the capacity to counter the obstructionism that inevitably emerged. Nonetheless, UNPROFOR reduced the danger of an unintended escalation of the conflict, which was an achievement in itself. But UNPROFOR ceased to be a mechanism exclusively linked to Croatia before it was deployed. As in the case of the EU monitoring group, the Vance plan assumed there was a will by the parties to avoid further expansion of the conflict. However, as the danger of war in Bosnia became imminent, efforts were made to prevent it. UNPROFOR' s headquarters was located at Sarajevo as a stabilizing measure, but this was too little, too late. The larger preventive force the Bosnian president had begged for had been turned down. 14 Large-scale fighting broke out in April. By July, the Serbs controlled about 70 percent of Bosnia. UN officials concluded at this stage that it was not feasible to undertake further peacekeeping activities. Consequently, when it became impossible to run UNPROFOR from a besieged Sarajevo, the headquarters was moved, although a small contingent was left behind. In June 1992, this was the only international presence in Sarajevo that attempted on an ad hoc basis to mediate a cease-fire and to facilitate the delivery of humanitarian aid. In August, reports of the war's devastating effects prodded the Security Council, through Resolution 770, to call upon members to take steps to deliver humanitarian aid where it was needed in Bosnia in cooperation with the United Nations. But in the later deliberations ambitions sank. The result was a peacekeeping operation, primarily because troop contributors were reluctant to send troops on an ill-defined enforcement mission. On September 14 the Security Council authorized UNPROFOR to support the UN High Commissioner's efforts, including the protection of convoys, when the commissioner deemed it necessary. 15 The UN Secretary-General was initially skeptical about this arrangement, which created an unusual organizational structure. The command became composed of units only from EU and NATO countries, which also had responsibility for planning and financing the 7 ,000-member force. The headquarters was a section of aNA TO Army Group HQ. Through this, NATO became heavily involved in peacekeeping, even though the command formally served under the force commander of UNPROFOR. In the early phase of the operations, UN officials reacted strongly since they had little knowledge of what was going on and had a correspondingly limited ability to influence decisions. Additional

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NATO resources, such as Airborne Warnings and Control System (AWACS) flights and fighter planes, were also made available in October, after the Security Council established a ban on military flights over Bosnia and later authorized NATO to implement the ban. 16 But the peacekeeping mandate restricted the protection the force could provide. The process that led to the deployment-with its haggling about mandate, size, and rules of engagement-demonstrated to the Serbs the UN reluctance toward expansion. Consequently, even though the initial planning had included all of Bosnia, UNPROFOR was deployed only in the territories controlled by Muslims and Croats. The remaining two-thirds of Bosnia-the section that was most in need of international deployment-was essentially out of bounds for the force, except for a few observers. In addition, a number of resolutions intended to create an image of action were passed. Several led to additional tasks; for example, the no-fly zone (781, October 1993); the establishment of UN border control mechanisms (787, November 1992); and the resolutions that established safe areas in April, May, and June 1993 (819, 824, 836). The last of these authorized UNPROFOR to take all measures necessary to protect six areas of Bosnia from armed attacks. There were several practical implications of this last expansion. It diverted scarce resources from the delivery of humanitarian assistance and also drained resources from central Bosnia at a time of escalation in fighting between Muslims and Croats. 17 In addition, the force commander said implementation would require 34,000 additional troops. However, there was no willingness to provide these troops, and a best-case scenario plan based on 7,600 troops was designed. But even this proved to be too ambitious. Consequently, as public opinion began to refocus on the tragedies of Sarajevo and Goradze in early 1994, the only available military asset was air power, which the Security Council had authorized the previous year-albeit under heavy restrictions and without a clearly thought-out policy. However, through a combination of military leadership on the UNPROFOR side, some new troops, and a solid portion ofluck, this arrangement seemed to work initially. The only potentially successful peacekeeping experiment has been in Macedonia, where lack of internal stability, caused partly by external pressure, was regarded as a threat. Following a request from the Macedonian president, in early 1993 a battalion-sized UN force was sent to the border between Macedonia and Albania-Serbia. The mandate and the manner of deployment clearly suggest that this force was designed to detect and deter insurgencies. But the absence of attacks on Serbia and Albania cannot be credited entirely to UNPROFOR. With one unstable cease-fire in Croatia and war in Bosnia, Serbia has all the reasons it needs to avoid engagement in yet another war. The most immediate threat is the internal political struggle between Macedonians and Albanians. 18 If this situation deteriorates, the force might find itself in much the same situation as the force in Sarajevo in May 1992-that is, stuck in the middle of a civil war. Another scenario that might create political instability in

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FYROM is a war between the Albanian population and Milosevic' s soldiers in Kosovo. But it would then be refugees-not soldiers-that UNPROFOR's troops would observe entering Macedonia. 19 Although it is too early to judge UNPROFOR, its performance to the present inevitably leads to several unpleasant conclusions. • The deployment of peacekeepers who depend on consent and cooperation from parties in Yugoslav-like situations is dangerous and inadequate. Soldiers in such a situation are neither mandated nor equipped to create conditions for their own success. This is a fundamental doctrinal problem. • More effective structures for higher command, better command and control, improved logistics, and predeployment training are needed more than ever. But these alone will not lead to success if it is an enforcement capacity that is required. Those who try to measure the effectiveness of such a heterogeneous UN operation by comparing it to narrower alliances or nationally conducted operations will always be disappointed. • The United Nations needs to develop the concept of preventive deployment. Macedonia is still an ambiguous experience, and we should not forget the preventive experience of Sarajevo. Deployed early enough, such forces might have a deterrent function and might also serve in an independent early-warning capacity. However, by deploying, the United Nations sends a signal of commitment that has to be maintained. • There is a need for clearer procedures for cooperation and command in operations in which the United Nations depends on external military resources in the theater of operations-such as NATO's operation in Bosnia. • Reliance on peacekeeping with a simultaneous challenge to one side through ineffectual statements and sanctions is dangerous. As Adam Roberts has observed, ''The combination makes it appear weak and indecisive in the face of particularly aggressive or unconscionable policies, and it may thus be underestimated and viewed with contempt by some of the leaders involved. This may only encourage their intransigence." 20 The effect of these shortcomings has been experienced by UN personnel on the ground. It should be noted that no other peacekeeping operation has "consumed" as many commanding generals as UNPROFOR did between 1992 and 1993.

Failed Mediation Fewer mediators have decided to leave, but the lack of a clear political objective and a corresponding strategy to achieve this left the peacekeepers in a void. From the outset, tension existed in the EU and the United Nations between those who argued for the rights of minorities to self-determination and those who emphasized the inviolability of borders. In Yugoslavia, this tension became particu-

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larly difficult since the issue involved making internal administrative borders into international frontiers. The lack of international will to agree on and to implement a policy left the initiative to the fighters. As a result, the mediators proceeded on the belief that the end to the fighting and humanitarian suffering had to be the primary goal. As for the peacekeepers, the many contradictory and toothless UN resolutions passed in 1992 and 1993 undermined their work, which often caused antagonism among the parties. The initiatives frequently contradicted the mediators' approach and illustrated the fact that the mediators Jacked the political support of countries that could have coerced them to comply. For example, some of the resolutions regarding the situation in Bosnia started out by confirming the determination to maintain that state's territorial integrity, even as the operational paragraphs contained provisions that, in effect, were steps toward dividing the republic. In other situations the Security Council suddenly reversed previous decisions. For instance, Resolution 815 recognized de facto the UNPAs as parts of Croatia, whereas the Vance plan explicitly stated that the area's status was to be determined by later negotiations. Mter the August 1992 London Conference that led to the Geneva Conference, the EU-UN mediators had to base their activities on the fact that there was no international willingness to enforce a resolution or to punish uncooperative parties with anything other than sanctions and condemnations. Similarly, both Russia and the United States-the only two powers with some credibility in the area-kept a low profile. This entirely undermined UN efforts regarding the Muslims, who until then had expected external assistance. Instead, both the mediators and peacekeeping contributors insisted on maintaining the arms embargo of the former Yugoslavia, which hampered the Muslims much more than the other combatants. The Bosnian government was not in a position to expel the peacekeepers or to ignore the political process, but the character of its cooperation changed. The Bosnian strategy gradually transformed into one of using international sympathy while at the same time preparing to regain territory by force. There was no room for compromises along the lines to which the mediators had to adhere, which were those the Croats and Serbs wanted and the major powers had quietly accepted. The first joint proposal was the Vance-Owen plan of March 1993. This plan attempted, at least nominally, to maintain the idea of a Bosnian state by proposing a loose federation of ten territories that would be governed on an ethnic basis. According to this plan, the main ethnic groups would dominate in three provinces apiece. The province of Sarajevo would be multiethnic. The plan was severely criticized, partly because it would be impossible-according to critics-to implement because of the exceedingly long boundaries it created, and partly because it gave the Serbs (and the Croats) too much territory. In fact, the publication of the plan created a new upsurge in ethnic killings in central Bosnia (between Muslims and Croats) because of fighting over disputed territories along the proposed new borders. Although the Croats accepted the plan, as did

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the Muslims after extensive pressure, it was rejected by the Serbian parliament in Pale in mid-June. The second proposal, the Owen-Stoltenberg plan, was published in summer 1993. This plan was a product of the mediators' reconciling the demands from the parties rather than developing a proposal themselves. A compromise was constructed between the Serb-Croat demand for a confederation of three independent republics and the Muslim demand for a federation. The plan proposed dividing the territory along ethnic lines and dismantling BosniaHerzegovina. It would have produced a union of three demilitarized republics with one representative from each in a presidential council. Despite agreement among the political leaders on all three sides, the Bosnia parliament rejected the plan. The parliament argued it could not accept Bosnia being demilitarized as long as the neighboring states were heavily armed, and it preferred one state with a strong centralized power. After these defeats, much of the steam went out of the mediators' efforts. But the EU-UN mediators were, in effect, replaced by a contact group in early 1994 as new tragedies unfolded in Sarajevo and Goradze. This group proceeded along the same lines as the EU-UN mediators. From April to June 1994, they developed through internal consultations yet another new proposal for the division ofBosnia which, in effect, is similar to the lastEU-UN plan. The biggest difference this time was the existence of a somewhat more credible threat of punishment for those rejecting the proposal, since the major powers had invested their political prestige more directly in the process. The future of the plan is currently highly uncertain.

Humanitarian Operations Relief agencies were on the scene of suffering in Croatia and Bosnia before peacekeepers arrived. In Bosnia, peacekeepers were deployed to assist the humanitarian agencies. Still, this early involvement and military support did not ensure success, to the extent that humanitarian operations can be successful in an operational environment such as the former Yugoslavia. The Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), appointed the UN's lead humanitarian agency in this conflict, is spending at the time of this writing about half of its annual budget in the former Yugoslavia. 21 In a period of less than two years, the agency increased its staff there from a token presence to about 15 percent of its total staff. However, the humanitarian suffering has increased even faster. By late 1993, around 230,000 people had been killed or were missing, and about 60,000 had been seriously wounded. About 4.2 million people were refugees or were internally displaced out of a prewar population of 22 million. Of Bosnia's approximately 4 million people, about 2.3 million were displaced. 22 The humanitarian efforts have been severely criticized at times. It has been argued that humanitarian efforts have substituted for a more credible interna-

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tional response, that they have been inadequately executed, and that they have prolonged the war by providing food to the belligerents. More fundamentally, however, the humanitarian response illustrates how the EU/-UN efforts have been geared toward dealing with the consequences of the war rather than with its causes: "to respond to the major unlawful violence ... by trying to provide relief to the suffering."23 As for the peacekeepers and the politicians, many of the problems related to the inadequate humanitarian performance can be explained by the newness of the situation. Humanitarian agencies such as UNHCR lack the background or practice for working in war zones, which it gradually had to do in Bosnia. UNHCR's personnel lacked experience, training, procedures, doctrines, and even equipment for such operations. In addition, they had to cooperate with unfamiliar institutions, particularly the UN's military. The lack of a credible UN presence at an early stage made it too easy for uncooperative parties to manipulate the entire international communitydiplomats, peacekeepers, and humanitarian workers alike. Serbian, Croatian, and Muslim armed units have all used food as a weapon by blocking or shelling convoys heading for their enemies and by looting or demanding "taxes" or other forms of extortion. Observers have claimed that as much as 50 percent of the food distributed in certain areas of Bosnia falls into the hands of the soldiers. In early 1994, as little as 20 percent of the planned relief reached its destination because of the fighting in Bosnia. These problems have been exacerbated by difficulties related to the UNPROFOR-UNHCR relations in the field. Lack of mutual understanding of each other's routines, capacities, and limitations has at times clearly restricted operational capacity and has reduced security .24 An illustration of this is seen in the incompatibility of radio communication between humanitarian relief convoys and escorts, which made it impossible for the two groups to communicate even in tense situations-even though this problem was addressed at an early stage of the Bosnia operation. The depressing experiences from this operation have frustrated many, and several relief workers believe UNHCR should never again get involved in an active civil war. 25 This criticism stems partly from the difficulties involved in establishing effective management. Different UN agencies and most NGOs have a deep aversion to coordination. More specifically, everybody favors coordination, but no one wishes to be told what to do. This is particularly so when it comes to working with the military. The Secretary-General noted this, saying that "complicated command and the need to deal with a variety of agencies enjoying an autonomous status in their function are factors that have contributed to creating an environment that is not favorable to operational efficiency."26 The problem has been addressed repeatedly; it is not confined to the former Yugoslavia. However, neither the establishment of the Department of Humanitarian Affairs in the UN secretariat in 1992, which was given overall coordinating responsibility on the humanitarian side, nor the appointment of a civilian

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special representative in the former Yugoslavia has solved the problems, although performance and cooperation have improved substantially since the early stages. But the humanitarian operations in the former Yugoslavia have also posed uncomfortable problems of principle. UNHCR, for example, has been forced to prioritize delivery of humanitarian aid in a manner that has taken resources away from its mandate responsibility-protection of refugees. It is argued that the relief may actually have prolonged the war by providing essential supplies to armed factions that they otherwise would not have had. By helping refugees leave besieged areas, it has been claimed that the United Nations is facilitating the task of aggressors by assisting in the ongoing ethnic slaughter the UN political bodies have strongly condemned. But again, the responsibility for this inconsistency should not be left at the field level. The ad hoc behavior in the humanitarian field has been driven by fluctuating and conflicting political demands. An illustration of this is seen in the discrepancy between the many innovative human rights initiatives that have been developed-such as the war crimes tribunal-and the glaring lack of political support the United Nations has been willing to provide to ensure that these initiatives will work. This lack of political and economic support might allow war criminals to walk away from a conflict unpunished, whereas many Bosnians think this punishment is more important for a future settlement than the issue of minority protection. 27 This UN inconsistency might also undermine or discredit such mechanisms in future armed conflicts. 28

Conclusion The Yugoslav conflict has already had a massive impact on international society. The way we think about security, intervention, and the role of the United Nations and other security organizations has gone through a turbulent change as the events on Balkan battlefields have evolved. Nonetheless, the Yugoslav experience clearly illustrates that although the Cold War is history, the international political system continues to be characterized by deep division of interests among states. 29 In fact, the differences among former Western allies have reemerged as a characteristic feature of the international system. The most important area of agreement among the allies on the Yugoslav issue was that they had to maintain unity, which ultimately became a justification for inaction. The United States has prevented others from putting too much pressure on the Muslims. The Germans have provided invaluable support to the Croats. Russia has been very important, if not equally successful, in its support of the Serbs. But because of the differences in the relative strengths among Serbs, Croats, and Muslims in Bosnia, the UN involvement has amounted to intervention on the side of the aggressor. The Muslims are justifiably critical and claim their government has been "politically equalized with their attacker and militarily

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handicapped by the arms embargo." 30 The moral and operational complexity of the Yugoslav situation-with its inevitable contradictions between short-term demands and long-term objectives-humanitarian imperatives versus political feasibility, the newness ofthe challenge, and the proliferation of similar conflicts elsewhere have undermined hopes for more determined action. Still, the heavy criticism, leveled from 1992 to 1993, of the UN' s overall involvement in the conflict has softened. This is a result of several factors, including the general public fatigue with the Yugoslav nightmare and a growing sense of what some like to call "realism" toward the handling of post-Cold War conflicts. The accusation that the United Nations has indirectly legitimized ethnic cleansing and territorial aggression does not bite as much today-not because it is less true but because it has become a fact of life. On the other hand, UN performance in the field has improved considerably since the early stages of the operations. Although this is the case for all of the operational activities, the improvements are most noticeable among the military. In particular, the events of early 1994 led to more credibility and were linked to NATO and UNPROFOR expanded joint operations. Many of the practical problems concerning coordination and command had been settled. With almost 20,000 soldiers deployed in Bosnia in mid-1994, supported by the most sophisticated air cover available, the United Nations has probably the strongest military presence in the republic. And UNPROFOR, which by mid-1994 had an authorized strength of about 50,000 troops and a real deployment of about 15,000-including troops from four of the Security Council's five permanent members-is a far more impressive presence than it was in early 1992. The cost is $1 billion, which does not include the air and embargo operations. Unfortunately, these forces and activities are too little, too late for altering the likely principles of a future settlement and provide more than a modest improvement of the humanitarian situation. President Milosevic pointed out before the war commenced "the question of all questions" on the Yugoslav agenda was redrawing borders and that the new borders would be determined by the strong. 31 The United Nations is likely to be left with many unimplemented resolutions and endless bills. The situation shows that even if the initial price tag for acting credibly is high, ad hocism is considerably more expensive. MilSevic has been tragically right.

Notes 1. At the time it was called the European Community. Although the change to European Union only became official in November 1993, EU is used throughout this chapter for the sake of simplicity. 2. See, for example, James Gow and Lawrence Freedman, "Intervention in a Fragmenting State: The Case of Yugoslavia," in Nigel Rodley (ed.), To Loose the Bands ofWickedness (London: Brassey's, 1992). 3. John G. Ruggie, "Wandering the Void Charting the UN' s New Strategic Role,"

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Foreign Affairs 72, no. 5 (November-December 1993): 26-31. 4. See Hugh Poulton, Balkans: Minorities and States in Conflict(London: Minority Rights Group, 1993). 5. James Gow, "Towards a Settlement in Bosnia: The Military Dimension," The World Today 50, no. 5 (May 1994): 96-99. 6. Rosalyn Higgins, ''The United Nations and the Former Yugoslavia," International Affairs 69, no. 3 (1993): 474. 7. See the Financial Times, September 14-15, 1991:22. 8. See, for example, ''The Role of European Institutions in Security After the Cold War: Some Lessons from Yugoslavia," (Santa Monica: Rand Corporation, 1992): 14. 9. Higgins, "The United Nations and the Former Yugoslavia," 474. 10. Lawrence Freedman, The Politics of Military Intervention Within Europe, Chaillot Papers No. 11 (Paris: Institute for Security Studies, October 1993). 11. See Adam Roberts, "Ethnic Conflict: Threat and Challenge to the UN," in Anthony McDermott (ed.), Ethnic Conflict and International Security (Oslo: Norwegian Institute oflnternational Affairs, 1994), 5-36. 12. See Nicole Gnesotto, Lessons of Yugoslavia, Chaillot Papers No. 14 (Paris: Institute for Security Studies, March 1994). 13. As several EC observers and independent observers emphasized, Serbs in the areas controlled by Croat authorities were often subjected to the same kind of cleansing during this period. 14. UN document S/23363, para. 30, January 5, 1992. 15. UN S/24540, September 10, and SCR 776, September 14, 1992. The mandate also explicitly authorized UNPROFOR to assist the International Committee of the Red Cross in escorting released detainees. 16. NATO has also been involved in the UN-authorized military activity in other ways. Two of the more important are the contingency planning for a possible implementation force that began with the Vance-Owen negotiations and the naval blockade in the Adriatic Sea, "Operation Sharp Guard." 17. This escalation was triggered partly by the introduction of the UN-sponsored Vance-Owen plan. The idea behind this was de facto to divide Bosnia-Herzegovina along ethnic lines. Conflicts over issues such as whether a village along the division should become Croat or Muslim immediately emerged. See UN document S/25939, June 14, 1993. 18. See Micha Glenny's articles: "Impose Corridors in Bosnia and Arrange a Settlement" and "Demilitarize Bosnia or the Storm Will Spread South" in the International Herald Tribune, July 30 and August 1, 1993, respectively. 19. The original Nordic battalion was gradually and partly replaced by U.S. troops in 1993-1994. 20. Roberts, "Ethnic Conflict: Threat and Challenge," 34. 21. The budget for the second half of 1994 is just over $500 million; UNHCR Information Notes on Former Yugoslavia, July 1994. 22. Ibid., 11. 23. Higgins, "The United Nations and the Former Yugoslavia," 469. 24. Age Eknes, Blue Helmets in a Blown Mission, Research Report No. 174 (Oslo: Norwegian Institute of International Affairs, December 1993). 25. Thomas G. Weiss, "UN Responses in Former Yugoslavia: Moral and Operational Choices," Ethics and International Affairs 8 (1994): 1-22. 26. UN document S/25139, January 20, 1993. 27. See Zdravko Grebo and Radha Kumar, "Rebuilding Mostar," Balkan War Report 26 (May 1994): 6. 28. Weiss, "UN Responses," 15.

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29. Mats Berdal, "Peacekeeping in Europe," Adelphi Paper No. 284 (London: International Institute for Strategic Studies, 1994). 30. Anthony Borden and Zoran Pajic, "The Triumph of Ethnically Pure States," Balkan War Report 26 (May 1994): 5. 31. Patrick Moore, "Endgame in Bosnia and Herzegovina?" Radio Free Europe Radio Liberty Research Report2, no. 32 (August 13, 1993).

• 8. Transitional Authority in Cambodia MICHAEL W. DOYLE AND AY AKA SUZUKI

The challenge of making peace in Cambodia lay in the complex character of the conflict and in a legacy of devastating strife that had domestic and international sources. In the period following World War II, Cambodia was a weak state with encroaching neighbors. Prince Norodom Sihanouk ruled Cambodia first as French client ( 1946 to 1954) and later as independent head of government (1954 to 1970). Sihanouk inherited the mantle of traditional, royal Cambodian legitimacy and a divided economy, with large gaps existing between the lives led by people from the city and the country, the elite and the mass. The state remained a weak and unstable apparatus, veering between the army and the commercial classes, appealing sometimes to national sentiment and sometimes to foreign support. 1 During the Vietnam War, Sihanouk' s balancing act fell afoul of U.S. demands to resist Vietnamese use of the Ho Chi Minh trail through Laos and Cambodia. In 1970, his prime minister, Lon Nol, staged a coup and, accompanied by a devastating U.S. bombing, turned the Cambodian armed forces against the guerrilla forces of the Maoist-inspired Khmer Rouge. After it seized the capital, Phnom Penh, in 1975, the Khmer Rouge inflicted an "auto-genocide" of 1 million deaths on the long-suffering people of Cambodia. The Cambodian conflict entered a new stage in December 1978 when, responding to repeated Khmer Rouge provocations, Vietnam invaded Cambodia. The Vietnamese invasion and the installation of the Heng Sarnrin-Hun Sen regime in 1979 gave rise to a guerrilla movement by the three major resistance groups. These included Prince Sihanouk' s party, theN ational Front for a United Independent, Neutral, Peaceful and Cooperative Cambodia (FUNCINPEC); Son Sann' s party, the Khmer People's National Liberation Front (KPNLF, some associated with the former Lon Nol forces); and the Party of Democratic Kampuchea (PDK, or the Khmer Rouge). Each of the groups, including the Heng Samrin-Hun Sen regime-later called State of Cambodia (SOC)-contested the claims of the others to legitimate authority over Cambodia. In 1982, at the urging of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), the United States, and China, the three groups opposing the Hun Sen regime formed the

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Map 8.1 Cambodia

I

THAILAND

I

LAOP.D.R.

0 VIETNAM

GULF OF THAILAND

KOMPONGSOM

-

Source:

•- Railroad

Adapted from map of Cambodia (Annex A) in Jarat Chopra, John Mackinlay, and Larry Minear, The Report on the Cambodian Peace Process, No. 165. Norwegian Institute of International Affairs (February 1993), 36.

Coalition Government of Democratic Kampuchea (CGDK), headed by Prince Norodom Sihanouk. 2 The complexities of the conflict were evident. From the standpoint of the Hun Sen regime and its Vietnamese and Soviet backers, the conflict was a counterinsurgency war waged by the government against a genocidal opponent (the Khmer Rouge). For the CGDK opposition coalition and its ASEAN, UN, and U.S. supporters, the conflict was a case of international aggression by Vietnam and Vietnam's occupation of a sovereign country. Conflicting claims to authority by the CGDK opposition coalition and the Hun Sen government thus created problems of recognition for the international community. Whereas the

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United Nations recognized the CGDK as the legal government of Cambodia, Hun Sen's SOC controlled more than 80 percent of the country. The Cambodian state suffered more from a crisis of legitimacy-both domestic and international-than from a crisis of effectiveness. (In contrast, Somalia and Bosnia suffered from both.) The Heng Samrin-Hun Sen regime was as effective as the typical Southeast Asian state, but it was not legitimate in the view of traditional Khmer people-nor, more significantly-was it recognized outside the Cold War Soviet bloc. Given its poverty, small size, and more powerful neighbors, Cambodia was vulnerable to external interference. Each faction, moreover, sought foreign patrons. The United States supported the Lon Nol coup of 1970, the Chinese backed the Khmer Rouge, and the Vietnamese installed the Hun Sen regime in 1979 and did not finally withdraw their military forces until1989. When the international community began to tackle the task of peace in the 1980s, 360,000 refugees housed in camps in Thailand were receiving international assistance and serving as a recruiting ground for the Khmer Rouge and others opposing the regime in Phnom Penh. The peacemaking effort began with regional initiatives led by the UN special representative in Southeast Asia, Raffeeuddin Ahmed, and later by Indonesia and France. But the four Cambodian factions could not be persuaded to share power. Following the stalemate of the first Paris Conference in summer 1989, the United States and China (the patrons of the Cambodian resistance) and Russia (patron, with Vietnam, of the Hun Sen regime) became involved in bringing about a peace. Determined to mark the end of the Cold War and to remove a troublesome regional rivalry from the diplomatic agenda, the patrons pressured their clients to accept a UN transitional authority that would ensure a politically neutral environment for a free and fair national election. The international community, in effect, had decided to gamble on the people of Cambodia. In an attempt to explore the significance of the United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia (UNTAC) for other complex peacekeeping operations, we begin with the UN' s multifunctional involvement in Cambodia After looking at the overall record of what worked well and what did not, we focus on UNTAC's groundbreaking attempt to achieve transitional civilian authority in Cambodia as a way to move from civil war to internationally recognized national sovereignty. We conclude with an examination of the sources of success and failure in complex internal peacekeeping operations.

Multidimensional Peacekeeping The October 1991 Agreements on a Comprehensive Political Settlement of the Cambodian Conflict3 (more commonly referred to as the Paris Agreement) were a revolutionary blueprint for a comprehensive settlement. The Paris Agreement

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also gave the United Nations a unique role in settling and managing the conflict. The notable aspects of the Paris Agreement include the comprehensiveness of the settlement plan; the identification of a Supreme National Council as the "unique legitimate body and source of authority in which throughout the transitional period the sovereignty, independence and unity of Cambodia are enshrined (Paris Agreements section III, article 3)"; and the unprecedented role of the United Nations in the settlement process. After the parties failed to agree on a power-sharing scheme to solve their conflict, they agreed to grant extraordinary power to the United Nations during a transition period leading to national reconciliation. Aside from the precedentsetting responsibilities for controlling and supervising crucial aspects of civil administration and for organizing and monitoring the elections, UNTAC was required to monitor the cease-fire and the withdrawal of all foreign forces and to supervise the cantonment and demobilization of 70 percent of the four factions' military forces. Additionally, part of the mandate required UNT ACto foster an environment in which respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms was ensured, to coordinate with the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) the repatriation of the 360,000 refugees living in camps on the Thai side of the border, and to encourage social and economic rehabilitation during the period up to the elections. Although the United Nations had experience in some of these areas through its earlier peacekeeping operations, the combination of these tasks made UNTAC the largest UN peacekeeping operation ever. It engaged over 15,000 troops and 7,000 civilian personnel and cost over $2.8 billion during the span of eighteen months, the calculated transition period. Even more striking was the agreement among all of the Cambodian factions and the other parties to create "a system of liberal democracy, on the basis of pluralism" (Paris Agreements annex 5, point 4). Although it remains to be seen whether the Cambodians will embrace the principles and practice of constitutional democracy, the parties to the negotiation process (with the encouragement of the international community) explicitly agreed to a peace plan that required them to establish constitutional democracy in Cambodia. The UN role in guaranteeing democracy was unique in this process. UNTAC was mandated to establish liberal democracy by using an electoral route to national reconciliation through the organization of free and fair elections. This required special conditions of secure and neutral political order. As a means to achieve the neutral political environment that would be conducive to holding such elections, the Paris Agreement specified five essential areas of UNTAC control in the sphere of civil administration. At the suggestion of China, the areas specified for the strictest level of scrutiny and control over each of the four factions were defense, public security, finance, information, and foreign affairs. A lesser degree of scrutiny was required over other governmental functions such as education, public health, agriculture, fisheries, energy, transportation, and communications. These levels of scrutiny and control were

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anticipated as necessary to ensure a politically neutral environment in which no faction (especially the dominant State of Cambodia) would be able to employ state resources to tilt the electoral contest in its favor. The Secretary-General's special representative also had the apparent authority to appoint UNTAC officials within the factional administrations and to remove officials who did not respond to his directives. The Paris Agreement provided UNTAC with broad legal authority to enforce its mandate. Indeed, the agreement specifically gave the United Nations "all powers necessary to ensure the implementation of the Agreement" (Paris Agreements section III, article 6). UN sensitivity to charges of colonialism may have hindered the UNTAC mission from interpreting the agreement aggressively. But the determinants of the success or failure ofUNTAC lay elsewherein the fierce political contest among factions. The Paris Peace Agreement became the opening salvo in a new phase of the Cambodian "war," one that would be waged by other means.

UNTAC's Record The picture of the UNTAC operation a year after its conclusion is highly complex. Despite many difficulties, it was a qualified success. Considering that the main antagonists in Cambodia-the Vietnamese-installed government and the radical Khmer Rouge-were pressured by their big-power sponsors to sign the 1991 Paris Peace Accords and did not cooperate fully with the United Nations, UNTAC's accomplishments before and after the May 1993 elections were remarkable. Successes First, although the country was temporarily subject to UN transitional authority, it enjoyed for perhaps the first time the prospect of true independence from the control of any foreign power. Having endured French and Japanese colonialism before 1954 and U.S., Chinese, and Vietnamese competition for influence thereafter, Cambodia experienced both national and Southeast Asia regional self-determination. Some disturbing foreign presences, however, continued to complicate Cambodia's future. Thai generals in the west and Vietnamese interests in the east participated in the illegal export of Cambodia's logs and gems. Many thousands of Vietnamese entered the country to take advantage of the economic boom created by the UNTAC presence. But upon UNTAC's withdrawal on November 15, 1993-for better or worse-Cambodia was in the hands of the Cambodians, which was one element of what the UN transition was supposed to achieve. Second, the mere presence ofUNTAC had an impact. Its arrival signaled the end of full-scale civil war, and the country became mostly peaceful. During the

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UNTAC presence, some provinces remained very tense, but skirmishes were limited in duration, and the pitched battles of 1990 and earlier ended. UNTAC also opened up the political system, helping opposition parties compete against the incumbent regime. The parties acquired offices, held meetings, and gained access to the media. Harassment continued but not sufficiently to undermine the electoral process. The jails that had been crammed at one time with political prisoners held a vastly reduced population of inmates, all with a (sometimes trumped up) criminal charge against them. Although UNTAC never achieved the control over the Phnom Penh regime envisaged in the Paris Agreement, it made a dent in the most blatant corruption. Third, 360,000 refugees were peacefully repatriated from camps in Thailand. The Repatriation Component ofUNTAC, staffed by UNHCR, organized this massive undertaking with the cooperation and support of the Military Component, the Cambodian Red Cross, and other humanitarian organizations. In addition to overcoming the formidable logistic difficulties of transportation and of supplying a start-up resettlement package, UNTAC ensured that the refugees were repatriated voluntarily to locations the refugees found acceptable.4 Fourth, UNTAC organized an election in a country that had a shattered physical infrastructure. The United Nations has monitored and supervised many elections, but Cambodia's was the first election the United Nations organized directly from the planning stages through the writing of an electoral law to registration and the conduct of the poll. Hundreds of foreign volunteers in nearly every village registered voters and spread information. Voters walked considerable distances to register and braved threats to hold onto their registration cards. UNTAC persuaded the Supreme National Council to pass a comprehensive electoral law, over the council's initial opposition. UNTAC began to educate Cambodians about human rights and elections, employing an imaginative range of techniques that included traveling acting troops, Khmer videos, public rallies, debates among candidates, and extensive radio coverage-including the use of UNTAC's own radio station.5 Nearly all eligible Cambodians-almost 5 million-registered to vote. The May 1993 election rewarded these efforts and, most of all, affirmed the determination of the Cambodian people to have a voice in their future. The Khmer Rouge had vowed to stop the election altogether. The State of Cambodia waged a pitched battle against its main rival, FUNCINPEC, which included assassinations ofFUNCINPEC party officials. According to the Human Rights Component ofUNTAC, more than 200 people died during the campaign period between March 1 and May 14. This number included victims of a major attack launched by about 400 Khmer Rouge on Siem Reap on May 3 and 4. Despite threats from the SOC and the Khmer Rouge that people's votes would not be secret, UNTAC ensured they would be secret and apparently convinced Cambodians of that fact. UNTAC' s Military Component mobilized its full force of 16,000 as well as a civilian police force of 3,600 members to guarantee the

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security of the polling and counting process. The Khmer Rouge may have been deterred by the SOC election-eve offensive from the attack it had threatened, or it may have lacked the logistical capacity to mount a nationwide offensive, or Prince Sihanouk' s diplomacy may have persuaded it to allow a FUNCINPEC victory at the polls (with promise of cabinet posts afterward), or perhaps China persuaded it to hold its fire. 6 Despite all the attempted acts of intimidation, more than 90 percent of the electorate turned out to vote.

Failures If we look at UNTAC' s initial mandate, we can see two major areas of failure. The first was a failure to achieve a cease-fire and then to place in cantonment, demobilize, and disarm 70 percent of the military forces of the four factions; the second was the lack of effective control over civil administration. The failure to achieve a stable cease-fire (Phase 1) and then to place in cantonment, demobilize, and disarm the military forces of the four factions (Phase 2) had a devastating effect on the successful operation of the original mandate. As initially planned, the May 1993 elections were supposed to take place in a secure political environment in which the relative military weight of the factions would play little direct role in either the electoral campaign or the voters' choice. During the campaign, armies tilted all of the electoral contests. SOC attempted to coerce the opposition and the voters. At the same time, an atmosphere of violence raised SOC's value in the eyes of voters since it had the only military force capable of containing the Khmer Rouge. The Khmer Rouge refused to submitto cantonment in June 1992, saying that UNTAC had failed to control SOC (which was true, but neither had it controlled the Khmer Rouge in its much smaller zones), that the Supreme National Council was not in control (which it was supposed to be, subject to the limitations of the Paris Agreement), and that Vietnamese "forces" remained in Cambodia (Vietnamese military formations had withdrawn in 1989).7 When the Khmer Rouge refused to submit to cantonment, SOC and other factions that had partly completed the cantonment of almost 55,000 soldiers refused to demobilize and disarm; most of the cantoned soldiers went on "agricultural leave." The second area of failure was the precedent-setting attempt by UNTACto guarantee a politically neutral transition through UN control of five essential areas of Cambodian administration. Problems in civil administrative control posed serious challenges to the entire peace process and raised questions about whether administrative control should be part of any future UN peace operation.

The Attempt to Control Civil Administration UNTAC was mandated to control five areas of civil administration over each of the four factions: defense, public security, finance, information, and foreign

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affairs. By controlling these areas, UNTAC expected to be able to ensure that the political environment was neutral and that no faction would be able to employ sovereign resources to bias the electoral contest in its favor. In order to achieve this, UNTAC's Civilian Administrative Component, headed by Gerard Porcell, was organized into several specialized sub-components. Five specialized services were directed to control the Phnom Penh authority (the SOC existing administrative structure). The Complaints and Investigation Service was to handle civilian complaints vis-a-vis the Phnom Penh regime's Existing Administrative Structure (EAS). Provincial offices located in all twenty-one provinces were mandated to cover the EAS in the rest of Cambodia. By August 1992, a total of 818 civil administration staff members had been deployed, consisting of 157 professional international staff members, 62 general service international staff, and 599local staff members. 8

Figure 8.1 UNTAC Civil Administrative Subcomponents

Service

Source: UNTAC doc. "Note sur le controle de !'administration civile," August 19, 1992,5.

The Public Affairs Service took on three major areas of activities: overhauling the passport system, streamlining immigration processes, and monitoring the distribution of foreign aid. 9 The officers from this unit joined the Border Unit Control to collect information on border practices and to implementthe Supreme National Council moratoria on the illegal export of logs and petroleum. 10 The Defense Service's primary task was to depoliticize the SOC defense structure by

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eliminating political units within armed forces. A priori control was exercised over the decisions of the Ministry of Defense regarding issues such as the sale, lease, and exchange of land. 11 The Public Security Service trained magistrates and police officers of the EAS, drafted the penal code, and visited prisons in Phnom Penh and the provinces. This service also organized a biweekly working group on public security that was attended by representatives of all four parties to discuss issues such as banditry-(a major security concern in Cambodia)traffic, and penal procedures. 12 Financial controllers from the Finance Service were dispatched to each of the ministries, to the National Bank of Cambodia, and to most of the provincial administrations to control budgetary expenditures. They audited the operating costs of the community development and health programs of the KPNLF and FUNCINPEC. The service was also directed to exercise control over taxation and customs revenues. 13 The Information Service monitored more than twenty Cambodian media institutions and information activities in the provinces and prepared the Media Guidelines signed by all four parties. The Specialized Control Service had the authority to supervise the areas deemed "optional," which included public health, education, agriculture, maritime and river fisheries, communications and posts, energy production and distribution, navigable waters and public transport, tourism and historical monuments, mines, and general administration. 14 The objectives envisaged for the Complaints and Investigations Service were twofold: Its immediate function was to resolve particular complaints, but its second and wider objective was to obtain a countrywide profile of the nature and extent of complaints. By January 1993, more than 140 complaints had been lodged, most concerning land and property disputes, including disputes over evictions from land. 15 The Provincial Coordination Office was established at the headquarters of the Civil Administration to coordinate the operation of civil administration's twenty-one provincial offices. The office dispensed information and provided assistance, training, logistical, and other support to the provincial offices. 16 From the outset, the Civilian Administration Component was plagued with various ailments shared by all ofUNTAC: delays in staffing, the collapse of the Cambodian bureaucracy, and Cambodia's lack of infrastructure. 17 More serious, however, was the common thread running through all of these functions: the challenge encountered when a foreign entity attempts to exercise an intrusive control over existing authorities, particularly over a centralized communist bureaucracy. The regime resisted to the degree that it could in those areas it judged most vital to its survival. Accomplishments and Limitations

The Civil Administration Component's overall performance was neither an outright success nor an outright failure. Overall, there were some accomplishments and some serious setbacks. It is therefore useful to break down the

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functions of the component to micro-objectives-such as controlling the country's exchange rates--to understand what worked and what did not before assessing the overall impact of the effort to induce political neutrality through civil control. The Finance Service, for example, succeeded in supervising and actually controlling the issuance of currency. It also controlled legal border trade (customs activity) and the expenditures and revenues of the state budget. 18 In speaking of the functions of the Civil Administration Component, an officer from the Ministry of Finance stated, "IfUNTAC thought that the proposal by the State of Cambodia was not appropriate according to UNTAC' s standards, they would not allow the expenditure by the national bank, city bank, or overseas banks." 19 But only a few people believe UNTAC successfully separated the finances of the Cambodian People's Party (CPP) from those of SOC. 20 UNTAC control team investigations discovered, for example, "widespread and persistent use of SOC state apparatus to conduct political campaign activities of the ... CPP in which state employees-police, armed forces, and civil servants-are mobilized for CPP electioneering."21 In the area of foreign affairs, the component was successful in overseeing the abolition of entry and exit visas and in ensuring that SOC recognized a Supreme National Council-endorsed passport and visa. This permitted officials of the other factions to travel through the Phnom Penh airport without having to obtain the direct permission of a hostile rival. Having full access to files concerning passport applications at SOC's Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the controllers maintained their presence in the Passport Section at the ministry six days a week. Between late January and March 1993, the SNC endorsement was obtained for over 5,000 passports. 22 The component tended to be most successful when the objectives were relatively limited and UNTAC could draw on international bargaining chips, such as in endorsing passports and monitoring the distribution of foreign aid. 23 But in more demanding responsibilities, such as preventing smuggling, it was not as successful. As a Cambodian observer noted, the border is "long and the committee walks only on paper, so they cannot see everything." 24 Control over public security had little impact, but one of its programsregular visits to prisons-did have some positive effects. In accordance with Article 9 of the Transitional Penal Code, officials of the Public Security Service, along with officials from the Human Rights and Civil Police components, were responsible for regularly visiting prisons to verify conditions and to ensure that the code was implemented correctly. As a direct result of those visits, some prison conditions, such as water and sanitation services, improved. Prison conditions, nonetheless, remained poor, and the use of shackles persisted in several provincial prisons in spite of UNTAC's complaints. 25 UNTAC also provided training to about 200 judges, prosecutors, and police officials in the Penal Code the Supreme National Council had adopted at UNTAC's initiative in September 1992. Still, there was only limited success in overcoming the usual features of a police state apparatus. Many abuses persisted at the provincial level, despite UNTAC efforts. 26 In spring 1993, UNTAC had just begun a program to

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investigate the detention of prisoners without trial by the security forces, a program that was hampered by the lack of appellate courts. 27 Beyond these specific accounts of accomplishments and failures, four operational problems emerged. These occurred in the areas of: communications, lack of coordination, logistics, and staffing. For instance, in the Fourth Civil Administration Seminar, held in December 1992, provincial directors complained of being uninformed about activities of other components, and the Provincial Coordination Office complained about receiving conflicting information from different components at its headquarters. 28 The problem of staffing (the lack thereof or high turnover) in combination with serious logistical problems seemed to hamper the activities of all the services, although the provincial offices were hit hardest by these difficulties. The problem of staffing stood out as one of the most serious faced by UNTAC. Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali acknowledged that the recruitment process for civilian peacekeepers proceeded slowly, attributing the problem to "the high degree of specialization in the functions required to be performed. " 29 Each of these operational problems was serious enough to hamper the activities of the Civil Administration Component; other issues challenged the fundamental objectives of the mission the component pursued. The otherfactions. One of the most persistent complaints from the Phnom Penh administration was that UNTAC was treating SOC too harshly compared to its treatment of other factions such as the Khmer Rouge, which did not even allow UNTAC access to its territory. Because of a shortage of staff, the Civil Administration Component had very limited functions outside of Phnom Penh. More important, UNTAC' s complete lack of control over the Khmer Rougewhich barred UNTAC controllers at gunpoint-undermined the credibility of UNTAC's control mandate. Cosmetic versus real control. UNTAC had the official authority to control the factions, including the right to insert its officials within the factional administrations and to remove factional officials who did not respond to its directives. In fact, anything UNTAC seemed to control, it usually did not. As one instance of cosmetic control, a Public Security Service official noted the example of UNTAC' s prohibiting the SOC police and army officers from wearing Cambodian People's Party badges in order to "depoliticize" them. They were "probably glad to yield on cosmetic issues," he added, "because they knew it wouldn't affect their real control. And the police were very involved in politics, as we knew from the Control Team." 30 Provincial autonomy. The breakdown of Phnom Penh's control of the provinces and of its lower-level bureaucracy made it difficult for UNTACto control the officials SOC itself could not control. The activities UNTAC seemed to control-for example, expenditures in the Ministry of Finance of SOC-on closer examination were a mere front for decisions made elsewhere. Much of the

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SOC administration had collapsed, and effective control had slipped to provincial governors and generals. Therefore, UNTAC' s control of ministries that themselves did not control theirnominal areas of responsibility meant very little. Concealed parallel structures. Even in Phnom Penh, in the areas of policymaking in which a central administrative apparatus was still functioning, SOC worked around UNTAC. When the factions wished to be controlled, they allowed themselves to be controlled. But more frequently the actual chain of policy bypassed UNTAC control, as the UNTAC officer was kept busy controlling an official without function while the real budgetary process flowed elsewhere, out of UNTAC' s sight. The Cambodian People's Party (the political party of the State of Cambodia) thus enjoyed the service of officials on the public payroll and access to public assets while it obtained revenue from the sale of those assets. At a meeting on January 19, 1993, UNTAC came to a full realization of the problem and decided to set up control teams to probe SOC. It was agreed at the 12 January meeting that the central force behind the recent outbreak of incidents of political intimidation was not necessarily the Phnom Penh offices of the "Ministry of National Security" or "Ministry of Interior" of the SOC administrative structure, but most likely the Council of Ministers and the CPP [N.B., the executive and the party, two noncontrolled entities]. This source of authority is exercised at the provincial and local level largely through familial and personal ties with the "Provincial Governors." 31

Civil administration was not idle. It trained government bureaucrats in noncontroversial administrative skills. Responding, moreover, to the failure of its control mandate, civil administration unofficially adjusted its mandate by concentrating its efforts on monitoring the electoral activities of the factions by means of control teams and on encouraging the parties to organize for legitimate campaigning. 32 The head of the Human Rights Component, Dennis MeN amara, offered an informed assessment ofUNTAC's efforts at control. The exercise of "control" in order to secure a neutral political environment and end human rights abuses would have been a daunting task even if the peace process had gone exactly as planned, given the time-frame involved and the resources available to UNTAC. With the refusal of the Party of Democratic Kampuchea to demobilize its troops and continue to participate in the process [which led to all factions not demobilizing] and related resistance to close UNTAC supervision of the State of Cambodia's security apparatus, UNTAC through its control function was hard pressed to prevent mounting political crimes. 33

Sources of Success and Failure This analysis leads us to the central questions. Why, overall, was UNTAC a success? Why, at the same time, did seemingly essential parts of the original

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mandate, including the control of civil administration, fail? UNTAC's success can be credited in large part to the multidimensional character of the mandate. With Security Council-approved adjustments to the mandate, reconciliation and peace could have been achieved by disarmament, control, education, and renegotiation. Reconciliation through national election was available if and when the other dimensions failed. Multidimensionalityputting eggs in more than one basket-allows for single failures and overall success.34 Different parts of the mandate were variously successful. Between April 7 and May 19, 1993, a free and fair election campaign was supposed to take place in a demobilized, mostly disarmed, political environment that was controlled, neutralized, and freely accessible to all. Instead, we saw a partitioned Cambodia, armed to the teeth, and a violent campaign of civil terror waged among the factions and against UNTAC (by the Khmer Rouge and various bandit gangs). In order to draw useful lessons for other equally complex peacekeeping operations, we need to explain how some parts of the mandate succeeded and others failed: Why did demobilization and civil administrative control fail; why did international neutralization, repatriation, registration, and elections succeed? There are many causes of the differential successes of the parts ofUNTAC' s complex mandate. The simplest and most powerful explanation for the failures focuses on the unwillingness of the parties to cooperate and on UNTAC's decision not to try to enforce the mandate. UNTAC seemed to have the legal authority under the Paris Agreement to enforce the mandate over the opposition of one or more of the factions, but it did not enjoy the political support of the permanent five members of the Security Council or the contributing countries to employ forcefully its military capacity. In January 1993, GerardPorcell, chief ofthe Civil Administration Component, saw this as a crucial failure ofUNTAC' s will. He explained, "We don't have the will to apply the peace accords. This absence of firmness with the Khmer Rouge was a sort of signal for the other parties who saw there the proof ofUNTAC's weakness towards the group that from the start eschewed all cooperation. " 35 UNTAC lacked the will in part because it did not have the military capacity to enforce the mandate and still maintain the security of the international presence-governmental and nongovernmental-in Cambodia. UNTAC could have pushed through Khmer Rouge lines, beginning with the incident at Pailin in spring 1992 and the ''bamboo pole" that barred the way of Special Representative Yasushi Akashi and Lt. General John Sanderson, UNTAC force commander. (We should recall, however, that the mighty Vietnamese army was incapable of defeating the Khmer Rouge after more than ten years of warfare.) UNTAC could not protect the thousands of civilians and representatives of nongovernmental organizations from Khmer Rouge reprisal. 36 UNTAC also lacked the will to enforce because its military contributors apparently did not wish to enforce the mandate. A number of countries contrib-

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uting troops to the mission were unwilling to engage in armed enforcement, and they let this view be known to Akashi and Sanderson. Reasons for this constraint are speculative. These countries almost certainly were reluctant to sustain the casualties a more intrusive role would have produced. They also may have preferred a coalition government in Cambodia to one constructed after a more radical democratic transformation. And some of the Southeast Asian states expressed an eagerness to accommodate the Khmer Rouge that was not shared by the other contributors. This raises a second issue: If the parties were not willing to abide by the mandate, why did they sign it? Informed participants at the Paris negotiations speculate that these parties had no real option. Their international patrons had cut them off. Vietnam and China-patrons of SOC and the Khmer Rouge, respectively-had normalized relations in 1991, ending a bitter rivalry that had provoked a war in 1978 and Vietnam's invasion of Cambodia in 1979. The two communist states, now banding together, may have felt somewhat isolated and threatened in the aftermath of the Cold War and the global triumph of democratic capitalism. Both were also seeking Western contacts as well as trade and normalized relations with the world market, which the strife in Cambodia only hindered. The collapse of the Soviet Union, furthermore, removed another powerful patron of SOC; with its massive domestic challenges, Russia apparently had little interest in sustaining Southeast Asian clients. Another interpretation holds that the parties wanted the Paris Agreement but only to the extent that they were able to exploit it. All were exhausted by war and were falling apart internally; each may have supported Paris as the final nail in the coffin of its rivals. The Khmer Rouge may have wanted to use the provisions of civil control over the five areas in the Paris Agreement to destroy SOC. Administration over almost the entire country was the great advantage SOC possessed over the other factions. Observers argue that the Khmer Rouge probably judged that no centralized Leninist bureaucracy could sustain itself under a regime of effective, even if partial, outside control. Significantly, perhaps, it was China-the Khmer Rouge's onetime patron-that wrote these provisions of the Paris Agreement. SOC, however, may have sought the cantonment and demobilization provisions of the Paris Agreement as a vehicle by which to destroy the Khmer Rouge's most vital asset-its disciplined army of 10,000 troops. Consequently, the Khmer Rouge was determined not to disarm, but it hoped UNTAC would succeed in controlling and thus gutting SOC's administrative apparatus. SOC was prepared to cooperate in cantonment and disarmament in hopes that a disarmed Khmer Rouge would dissolve, but it was determined to prevent any effective control of its administrative assets. FUNCINPEC and KPNLF-the two very lightly armed factions at the border-wanted the Paris Agreement, perhaps mainly to bring on the elections because they had no other asset apart from their popularity with the Cambodian population. We cannot eliminate the possibility that Paris represented for the

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four factions a true reconciliation and an acceptance of peace through pluralist democracy, but it is very difficult to find evidence in their previous or later actions to support this view. How, then, do we account for the successes? They can be attributed to the passive support of the factions; the parties were not prepared to organize an active opposition. More strikingly, the successes all have a crucial characteristic in common-they were all actions taken or directly organized by UNTAC that did not require the positive cooperation of the four factions in order to be effective. UNHCR conducted repatriation with the assistance of the International Committee of the Red Cross, the Cambodian Red Cross, and various independent nongovernmental organizations. The Human Rights Component and Information Component conducted human rights education with the help of international and local nongovernmental organizations. And, most important, UNTAC's Electoral Component-with crucial assistance from the Military Component-registered Cambodia's voters, recruited and trained a 50,000person Cambodian staff of poll workers, established 2,000 polling sites, and conducted the poll between May 23 and May 28, 1993. Indeed, UNTAC' s guarantee of a secret ballot rescued the peace in Cambodia. If UNTAC had not had a direct role in the election, it probably would have had to declare defeat and retreat from Cambodia. The Khmer Rouge blocked the election in the villages it controlled. SOC was prepared to tolerate an election because it expected to win international legitimacy. But recalling SOC's record of violent intimidation, what sort of election would have been conducted if the United Nations had merely been a monitoring force? The United Nations would have had to withdraw from Cambodia altogether, citing SOC's intimidation during the campaign, or tolerate the additional manipulation that would have been likely had SOC conducted the poll. Contributory Sources Other factors have been cited to account for UNTAC' s and other peacekeeping operations' records of successes and failures. Slow action. It is difficult to overemphasize the importance of rapid deployment. The time gap between the signing of the peace agreement on October 23, 1991, and the full deployment ofUNTAC was nine months, and even then some important units of the Civil Police were not fully deployed. The UNTAC mandate was not designed by the secretariat and authorized by Security Council until February 19, 1992-four months after signing the Paris Agreement. A small interim advance mission, the United Nations Advance Mission in Cambodia (UNAMIC), was sent to Cambodia in November 1991, but its mission was limited to that of liaison ("good offices") between the parties; it was to monitor the anticipated cease-fire and mine clearance training. It lacked both the mandate and the wherewithal to impress the parties.

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Insufficient planning. The Civilian Police Component (CIVPOL) should have had a crucial impact on neutralizing factional intimidation, but the director was not appointed until March 1992, and even then there was no clear doctrine of operations. 37 Special Representative Ak.ashi was not appointed until January 1992, more than two months after the Paris Agreement had been signed and five months after the substance of the agreement had been achieved. Some military units did not arrive soon enough; others were not well equipped with, for example, enough French or English speakers or qualified drivers. Discontinuity. Behind the factors of slow action and insufficient planning was a lack of continuity between the development of the peace plan and its implementation in Cambodia. Special Representative Raffeeuddin Ahmed represented the United Nations in the lengthy negotiations leading from informal contacts through Paris I (1989) and theJakartainitiatives toParisll (the 1991 Peace Agreement). In the course of these talks, he acquired an unrivaled familiarity with the players and the issues, along with an expert staff. Whatever the advantages of a fresh approach and a clean slate (and some observers think there were advantages), a great deal of institutional knowledge was lost when the Secretary-General replaced Ahmed and his team in January 1992 with Yasushi Akashi. Most people agree that both the force commander and the special representative should be appointed at the time negotiations move toward an agreement. With a timely appointment, these facilitators would have a much better knowledge of the meaning of what was agreed to and who agreed to what. They would earn the trust of the parties, contribute to an assessment of what was feasible before the unfeasible was made part of a mandate, and have an interest in planning for the peace as soon as possible. Some units participated in advance planning, and their performance benefited from that preparation (for example, the electoral component); others did not prepare, and they suffered (for example, the Civil Administration Component). Others (for example, the military) planned and were still unable to implement their mandate. The role ofNGOs. Another vital aspect of the peace process in Cambodia was the active presence of international and indigenous nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) that supplemented the work ofUNTAC and also worked independently. 38 They made a key contribution in the repatriation of refugees, to human rights education, and to the provision of prosthetic devices. By 1993, over 90 NGOs were working in Cambodia, most of them well-known international NGOs such as CARE International and Oxfam. By January 1994, more than 120 NGOs were at work in Cambodia-an encouraging sign, particularly because of the increase in indigenous NG0s. 39 Local humanitarian and development-oriented NGOs carried out activities in close collaboration with UNTAC and the specialized agencies and programs of the United Nations, such as UNICEF. The Cambodian Red Cross, for example, was a vital partner in the repatriation of refugees. But many interna-

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tional NGOs became UNTAC' s not-so-loyal opposition. International development-oriented NGOs, which had been operating in Cambodia under difficult conditions before UNTAC was deployed, criticized what they saw as the negative effects of UNT AC' s presence. At times, a clear division of labor was difficult to establish, and UNTAC was blamed by several NGOs for showing insensitivity to local moral standards and for contributing to inflation. Tensions also arose when NGOs with limited resources felt UNTAC was overshadowing them and was wasting resources without significantly improving the lives of Cambodians. Nonetheless, local and international NGOs in the field of human rights became a distinctive feature of the Cambodian peace process according to Stephen Marks, who was chief of Human Rights, Education, Training, and Information ofUNTAC. Their special role was defined in UNTAC's mandate to collaborate with international human rights NGOs and to foster local ones. UNTAC, moreover, supported indigenous NGOs through the Trust Fund for a Human Rights Education Programme in Cambodia. Reflecting on the UNTAC legacy, Marks found it encouraging for the long-run transition to a pluralist democracy that "many of these NGOs continue to act independently and openly on the basis of knowledge and skills acquired during the transitional period."40 Quality of staff All of UNT AC displayed courage in sticking out a difficult assignment that was aggravated by unanticipated levels of violence. Some staff also displayed extraordinary courage, dedication, and ingenuity in meeting their responsibilities. Nonetheless, observers have noted a number of deficiencies. Some units (CIVPOL is frequently mentioned) suffered from serious language incompatibilities, with officers occasionally unable to speak either ofUNTAC' s two official languages, French and English. Very few could speak Khmer, which was partially a casualty of Cambodia's long isolation and its small size. Some battalions were ineffective, and one seems to have done more harm than good. Most, however, were very effective. They and the military observers stepped in to prop up the civilians in April and May 1993, when it became very dangerous to sustain UNTAC's "make or break" electionY The UN volunteers, most of whom worked in the Electoral Component, engendered widespread praise, even after a few decided to withdraw from one or two provinces in the face of extreme violence. The often repeated charge that UNTAC suffered from too many diplomats and too few managers undoubtedly has some merit. There may have been a professional tendency to negotiate rather than to direct. But it is easy to imagine the opposite error-a UN version of mother-country maternalism that produced anticolonial resistance. The diplomats at least understood that they were dealing with a foreign nation in transition rather than a conquered territory under occupation. Moreover, there appears to have been considerable benefit from the experience. Veterans of previous comprehensive peacekeeping operations capitalized on their experience, as did

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those who were able to draw upon their pre-UNTAC employment. Others were at sea in the world of complex peace building. 42 Administration and coordination. Of course, there were also simple administrative problems. As with the United Nations as a whole, UNTAC often attempted to do too much, which partly reflected a long-standing commitment to ensure strictly impartial universality. Some functions now performed by the UN staff, which is apolitical in the present era of Security Council unanimity, could have been contracted out to the private sector when the security situation permitted. Food service, mail, and travel arrangements are examples of such functions. On a wider scale, UNTAC officials have complained about a lack of timely guidance from the secretariat and the Security Council. International support. Portions of the international community let UNT AC, the United Nations, and the Cambodians down. UNTAC enjoyed extensive support from a number of countries-which included Japan, Indonesia, France, Australia, the United States, Russia, Thailand, and Malaysia-as well as the patient acquiescence of Vietnam and China in a considerable loss of regional clout. These countries provided diplomatic leadership, crucial financial support, and many essential battalions. Without their support and the participation of dozens of other UN members, the Paris Agreement could never have been implemented. At the same time, most observers agree that the unofficial support the Khmer Rouge received from various Thai generals on the western border undermined the peace accords. There, in violation of UN embargoes, logs and gems and ammunition flowed freely-filling the Khmer Rouge's coffers and bunkers and permitting it to disdain the carrot of economic aid and ward off the stick of embargo the United Nations had counted upon to encourage its cooperation. On the eastern border, a similar but less extensive trade in tropical timber allegedly occurred, and widespread (although unsubstantiated) rumors floated through Phnom Penh of continuing ties between SOC's secret police and the Vietnamese intelligence service. And other powers, such as the United States, occasionally meddled in the internal politics of Cambodia, such as in June 1993 when U.S. diplomats threatened the tottering interim government with a loss of U.S. aid if it brought leaders of the Khmer Rouge into an association with the government.

Conclusion The United Nations has not altered the historical nature of power in Cambodia, but it has empowered the people, with whom for the first time Cambodia's hopes rest. The United Nations and the international community need to learn from comprehensive peacekeeping operations, if only because these operations'

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escalating costs require the elimination of unnecessary expenses. In early 1993, the international community was in danger of forgetting all of UNTAC' s successes in the gloom that surrounded the mounting violence in the troubled Cambodia. Now, the danger is different but no less pressing. The euphoria flowing from the successful election may encourage us to dismiss UNTAC' s problems. Election results shifted the balance of bargaining chips between the factions, partly by empowering the princely party FUNCINPEC. But it was the overall political and military balance that would determine the new authority in Cambodia, not the results of the election poll alone. FUNCINPEC won fifty-eight seats, the CPP (the Hun Sen "State of Cambodia" party) won fiftyone, the Buddhist Liberal Democratic Party (BLDP, associated with the KPNLF) won ten, and Molinaka won one. More significant than the CPP's votes, however, was that the State of Cambodia retained its control of the only effective army (apart from that of the Khmer Rouge) and the existing police force (organized in paramilitary fashion). The Khmer Rouge continued to contemplate parlaying its well-deserved reputation for ruthlessness into a seat on a future Cambodian coalition; therefore, the summer 1993 negotiations regarding a coalition arrangement were as significant as the elections themselves. The eventual decision to create a coalition government-with the prime ministership for FUNCINPEC (Prince Rannaridh), with the deputy prime ministership for CPP (Hun Sen), with divided ministries, and with Prince (now King) Sihanouk as head of state-accurately reflected Cambodian realities. So, too, did the logic of assigning finance and foreign affairs to FUNCINPEC because it was more acceptable to foreign donors that could be relied upon to help the coalition coalesce by providing desperately needed development funding. As of June 1994, the government was continuing to pursue its policy of interdiction against the Khmer Rouge, the western border of Cambodia was again the scene of violent battles between the Khmer Rouge forces and the Royal Cambodian Armed Forces, and refugees were fleeing toward safety. Significantly, the political strength of the CPP-the controlling owner of the united army and the police-was rising, as were tensions between the soldiers formerly in SOC and the soldiers formerly in FUNCINPEC, erstwhile allies of the Khmer Rouge. 43 The present situation in Cambodia, therefore, can still undermine the gains made by the United Nations in opening the political system. The UN failures to solidify the rule of law through the control of the factions and to demobilize the factional armies may come back to haunt its electoral success. The lessons of every peacekeeping operation are different because the countries are different, but some are more different than others. UNTAC in Cambodia represents an important version of complex multidimensional peacekeeping. It indicates the importance of direct implementation and the ineffectiveness of supervision and control when the parties are not fully reconciled to

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MICHAEL W. DOYLE &AYAKA SUZUKI

peace. It also illustrates the ambiguous character of what we mean by success and failure. Civil administrative control and military cantonment-two major aspects of the mandate-were not fulfilled. There were also clear instances of waste. Apart from petty waste (for example, vehicles employed for private purposes), some of the components were so ineffective that we can question whether their presence made a difference in the operation. UNTAC cost $1.5 billion-not counting repatriation and rehabilitation costs-according to the official UN budget. Many observers suggest that the real costs were higher. Clearly, with hindsight, UNTAC could have been managed less expensively. Nonetheless, the essential questions are whether the results were worth the cost and whether they could have been achieved without the UN operation. Some have argued that monarchy could have been restored in Cambodia in 1989 at no financial cost. Sihanouk might have been persuaded to become the figurehead of a SOC regime. But the Khmer Rouge would have been outside the peace plan and outside the area of the peace. Since this result would have been unacceptable to China, the Khmer Rouge guerrillas would have continued to enjoy China's overt support in their border insurgency. More significant, all of the UN's other accomplishments, which required Security Council approval, would have been lost. On the international dimension, we see interstate peace in Southeast Asia; the consequent normalization of Cambodia's, Vietnam's, Laos's, and China's relations with their neighbors; and the international marginalization of the Khmer Rouge. Domestically, we see a relatively free and fair election, a coalition government joining the two predominant factions of Cambodian politics, the opening up of political space for civil society to grow, the birth of what is now the freest press in Southeast Asia, and the beginning of economic rehabilitation drawing on more than $800 million pledged by the international community. All of these accomplishments are significant, and they are directly attributable to UNTAC. The Khmer Rouge continues to threaten Cambodian stability, but it now threatens the recognized sovereign government of Cambodia. The United Nations may have "bought" more in other operations, but in the troublesome cases of Somalia and Bosnia, more resources have produced far fewer results.

Notes The authors want to thank Elizabeth Uphoff, International Peace Academy Research Fellow in Cambodia, for the interviews she conducted in Cambodia in fall1993. This chapter draws on Michael W. Doyle, "Lessons from Cambodia," in The United Nations, Peacekeeping, and U.S. Policy in the Post-Cold War World (Queenstown: Aspen Institute, 1994), 31-43; and Michael W. Doyle and Nishkala Suntharalingam, ''The UN in Cambodia: Lessons for Complex Peacekeeping," International Peacekeeping 1, no. 2 (Summer 1994): 117-147.

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1. See David Chandler, "Three Visions of Politics in Cambodia," in Michael W. Doyle and Ian Johnstone (eds.), Multidimensional Peacekeeping (forthcoming) 2. For insightful accounts of Cambodia's recent tragic history, see Ben Kiernan, Genocide and Democracy in Cambodia (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1993); Michael Haas, Genocide by Proxy (New York: Praeger, 1991 ); and David Chandler, The Tragedy of Cambodian History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1991). 3. UN doc. A/46/608-S/23177, October 23, 1991; 31 International Legal Materials 183 (1992). 4. Sadako Ogata, Tlu! State of the World's Refugees 1993: The Challenge of Protection (New York: Penguin, 1993), 104-105. 5. For UNTAC's role in the election, see Michael Maley, "Reflections on the Electoral Process in Cambodia," in Hugh Smith (ed.), Peacekeeping: Challenges for the Future (Canberra: Australian Defence Studies Centre, 1993), 87-99. Salman Ahmed, assistant provincial electoral officer in Kompong Thorn, estimated that more than half of the adults he encountered on his many visits to towns and villages followed Radio UNTAC on a regular basis. Interview with Salman Ahmed, August 23, 1993. 6. There is evidence for each of these suppositions, but decisive evidence is lacking for any single one. In the town of Stoung (Kompong Thorn Province), which was surrounded by Khmer Rouge forces, Michael Doyle and Jarat Chopra, as election observers, noted the important role the SOC military forces, in cooperation with the Indonesian Battalion, played in establishing a security zone that allowed the voting to proceed. But each province had a different experience. 7. Special Representative Yasushi Akashi' s defmitionof"foreign forces" brilliantly parsed the ambiguities built into the Paris Agreement, going beyond purely military forces to include those acting as part of a foreign-directed conspiracy. It would take a major investigation in each case to determine that the alleged individual was, in fact, a member of such a conspiracy. No such investigation appears to have been conducted in the case of the three named "forces." Although each had at one time been a member of Vietnamese military units, all three had apparently resigned, settled in Cambodia, and married Khmer women, with whom they had children. 8. UNTACdoc. "Notesurlecontr(}ledel'administrationcivile," August 19,1992,

5. 9. UNTAC docs. "Notes on the Control Exercised by the Civil Administration Component"; "Activity Reports of Civil Administration-September-October, November, December, 1992, and January 1993"; and "Report on UNTAC's Activities: Civil Administration Component," September 7, 1992. 10. UNTAC doc. "Border Control Unit Final Report," September 1993. 11. UNTAC doc. "Activity Report of Civil Administration, September-October, 1992," November 27, 1992,4. 12. UN doc. S/25719, May 3, 1993, 15. 13. UN doc. S/24578, September 1992, 8. 14. Ibid., 9. 15. UN doc. S/25124, January 25, 1993, 16. 16. UNTAC doc. "Report on UNTAC's Activities: The First Six Months," March IS-September 15, 1992, 24. 17. Ibid., 3. 18. Elizabeth Uphoff interview with officials from the Ministry of Finance in Phnom Penh, September 1993. 19. Uphoff interview with a senior official at the Ministry of Finance, September 1993. 20. James Schear, a UNTAC consultant, agreed that UNTAC did succeed in controlling this area. But the runaway inflation of March and April1993 casts doubt on the significance of the currency control that was achieved, and persisting charges of CPP

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MICHAEL W. DOYLE & AYAKA SUZUKI

employment of SOC resources, buildings, personnel, and the like raise some doubts with respect to the degree of control achieved outside Phnom Penh. See Schear, "The United Nations Operation in Cambodia: A Status Report," in Aspen Institute, infra fn 1, 21-26. 21. UN doc. S/25719, May 3, 1993, 14. 22. UNTAC doc. "Control Exercised over Civil Administration," March 9, 1993. 23. When UNTAC had the bargaining chips firmly in its own hands, it was able to impose its will in situations of conflict with the parties. UNTAC controlled currency because it could control access to the technically crucial prerequisite-international printing. Civil Administration appears to have successfully gained control over visas and passports, largely because passports gain their utility through international governmental recognition. 24. Uphoff interview with a high-level official at the Ministry of Foreign Mfairs in Phnom Penh, September 1993. 25. UN doc. S/25719, 15. 26. According to a Public Security official, the control team, designed to improve the control mechanism of provisional offices, proved to be quite effective in putting some pressure on SOC, "judging by the complaints from SOC." According to him, the control team "just went in with portable photocopiers and photocopied every document we could get our hands on .... It was an effective way to keep the pressure up." UNTAC doc. "UNTAC Report of the Fourth Civil Administration Seminar," December 10-12, 1992. In describing the standard operating procedure of the control team, the Ci vii Administration Component stated that the team "will use the tactic of surprise in its intervention with the Cambodian provincial authorities .... No prior authorization or other form of public warning is therefore warranted." This capability of UNTAC, its unrestricted access to any information, illustrates the potential but unfulfilled function it was given by the Paris Agreement. 27. UN doc. S/25719, May 3, 1993, 15-16. Mark Plunkett, former special prosecutor for UNTAC, concluded, "UNT AC could not even establish the rule of law." Canberra Times, August 20, 1993, 11. 28. UNTAC doc. "UNTAC Report of the Fourth Civil Administration Seminar." 29. UN doc. S/23870, May 1, 1993, 7. 30. Uphoff interview with official involved with Public Security, UNTAC Civil Administration, Phnom Penh, September 1993. 31. "Briefmg Note: Terms ofReferenceofthe Proposed UNTAC Control Mechanism at the Provincial Level," January 19, 1993, unpublished UNTAC document. 32. Interviews with various members of the Civil Administration Component and observation of a political meeting among Cambodian parties organized by the provincial director in Sissophon, Banteay Meanchey Province. For a valuable survey of these issues through 1992, see John Mackinlay, Jarat Chopra, and Larry Minear, An Interim Report on the Cambodian Peace Process (Oslo: Norwegian Institute of International Affairs, December 1992). 33. Dennis McNamara and Thant Myint-U, "Human Rights in Cambodia: What It Means?" Phnom Penh Post, May 21-June 3, 1993, 13. 34. Our views on this point benefited from an interview with Hisako Shimura, UN Department of Peace-keeping Operations, New York, October 2, 1993. 35. Quoted in Ben Kiernan, "The Failures of the Paris Agreements on Cambodia, 1991-1993,"inTheChallengeoflndochina:AnExaminationoftheU.S.Role,Conference Report of the Congressional Staff Conference, April 30-May 2, 1993 (Queenstown: Aspen Institute, 1993), 7-19. 36. Interview with Lt. General Sanderson, Canberra, Australia, March 28, 1993. 37. Nick Warner of the Australian Mission to Cambodia makes this argument in "Cambodia: Lessons of UNTAC for Peacekeeping Operations," paper prepared for the

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international seminar, UN Peacekeeping at the Crossroads, Canberra, March 21-24, 1993,5. 38. For a background of the history of NGO activities in Cambodia, see Eva L. Mysliwiec, "Cambodia: NGOs in Transition," in Peter Utting (ed.), Between Hope and Insecurity (Geneva: United Nations Research Institute for Social Development, 1994). 39. Humanitarian Assistance in Cambodia (Phnom Penh: Cooperation Committee for Cambodia, 1993 and 1994). 40. Telephone interview with Stephen Marks, June 3, 1994. 41. UN military observers played a crucial role in providing logistic support and even stepping in as district electoral officers and international poll supervising officers in two of the more disturbed provinces (Kratie and Kompong Thorn), which Michael Doyle visited as an international observer during the May elections. 42. Reginald Austin, for one example, had participated in the implementation of the commonwealth-sponsored election in Rhodesia-Zimbabwe as early as 1979. UNTAC contained a number of "graduates" from UNTAG (Namibia). CIVPOL was particularly disadvantaged. Effective policing is essentially a matter of local knowledge, trust, and small-unit coherence. Foreign police-who were dropped into a remote Cambodian town with no knowledge of Khmer, no common standards, and no experience working together-faced formidable hurdles. 43. For a well-informed assessment of the negotiations during June and July 1993, see William Shawcross, "A New Cambodia," New York Review of Books, August 12, 1993, 37-41. A useful continuation appears in William Branigin, "Cambodia Leans to Monarchy," Sydney Morning Herald, August 27, 1993, 7. On tensions in the current Royal Cambodian Armed Forces, see Nate Thayer, "RCAF Infighting," Phnom Penh Post, March 11-24, 1994, 1.

• 9. The Paradox of Humanitarian Assistance and Military Intervention in Somalia DEBARATI G. SAPIR AND HEDWIG DECONINCK

Three years and almost $3 billion later, the situation in Somalia seems to have come full circle. Insecurity was the principal reason for the UN military presence, and it remains a problem because demobilization failed. Given the time and resources invested, could the world have done better? Where did the UN intervention fail, where did it succeed, and why? These are not easy questions to answer. But unless they are addressed, nothing will have been learned, and the numerous ci viii an deaths will have been in vain. The devastation of Somalia and the estimated toll of 500,000 dead in a twoyear period stemmed from interclan warfare, internal power struggles, and an oppressive dictatorship. The Somalis must find solutions to these problems. But the devastation was equally the result of regional Cold War politics coupled with massive arm sales, a burden that must be shared by the international community. In 1992-1993, Somalia became the tragic proving ground for the UN machinery of the post-Cold War period. Some observers saw it as an opportunity to establish the new role of the United Nations, an opportunity that would finally allow implementation of several Charter obligations (such as maintaining international peace and security).' Somalia also allowed the United Nations to try its hand at global interference for internal conflict resolution, with doubtful success. Modern victory has become increasingly difficult to distinguish from defeat, and nowhere has this been more true than in Somalia. Depending upon the source, an operation could be a brilliant success or an abject failure. This ambiguity is partly symptomatic of blurred international lines since the end of the Cold War and the consequent reorganization of alliances. The Somalia situation since 1990 exemplifies the dilemmas that have faced the international community since the time of the Cold War. Strategic, moral, civic, financial, and political issues that had been under wraps since World War II spilled into the open in Somalia. The international assistance community was unprepared to deal with most of these issues when Cold War rules did not apply. 151

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DEBARATI G. SAPIR & HEDWIG DECONINCK

Map 9.1 Hom of Africa

SAUDI ARABIA

•

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Somalia raised moral issues not only about how far force could be used in the name of humanitarian assistance but also about UN mechanisms for dealing with countries that lacked national authorities. The sovereignty of nations, political interference, commitment to UN armed intervention, and the increasing influence of nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) were issues served up to a world already suffering from indigestion. 2 In this chapter we analyze the intervention in Somalia from the perspective of its success as a humanitarian operation and also examine the military intervention in its support function. The aim is to assess how much armed intervention helped the humanitarian process. We begin by highlighting aspects of preconflict Somalia and events leading to the crisis. We then describe institutional parameters surrounding the crisis, followed by a discussion of

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humanitarian needs, focusing on health, nutrition, social disruption, and food supply. We next describe the UN intervention and examine whether and how it assisted humanitarian work. We conclude with seven lessons that emerge from the analysis. Comprehensive documentation on and in Somalia is nonexistent; as a result, this analysis has been based on the limited data available. The chapter covers events occurring from the international recognition of civil war in 1991 up to March 1994 (the departure of the U.S. contingent and other Western soldiers from United Nations Operation in Somalia [UNOSOM II]).

Buildup to the Crisis-Pre-1991 Context Socioeconomic Background

Since 1970, Somalia has been counted among the world's poorest countries. In 1989, gross national product per capita was $170, less than half that of Sudan. 3 Official figures, however, do not always reflect reality-the economic situation in Somalia may not have been so desperate. Somalis working in the Gulf States and Saudi Arabia, for instance, were sending money home to their families in an amount estimated by the International Labour Organisation in 1985 at $370 million. Saudi imports of Somali livestock in 1987, for example, reached $55 million and were paid at twice the rate offered to other importers. 4 The health and social fabric had been fragile for several years, with little priority given to establishing essential welfare infrastructure. Whatever health services existed were practically defunct before the conflict began. By 1989, more than 85 percent of the rural population had no access to a health facility, and vaccination rates were barely 20 percent. The ratio of Somali doctors to the population, although far from adequate and concentrated in urban centers, was better than that in most neighboring countries (with the exception of Kenya). As discussed later, however, these professionals were rarely used during the crisis.5 A 1986 survey estimated that more than 65 percent of children under age five were malnourished. 6 These statistics are hardly surprising because government health spending was less than 1 percent of its budget, compared with a 5.9-percent average for sub-Saharan Africa in 1988.7 In contrast, 31.5 percent of expenditure was allocated to defense. 8 Famines and displaced populations are not new experiences for Somalia. Chronic food shortages flared into famine in the early 1980s, and aid efforts were launched by the world community. Displaced persons, both internally and across borders, have been part of the national scene for two decades. There were an estimated 700,000 refugees ( 10 percent of the population) in 1981, with influxes in 1983, 1984, and 1986. 9

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DEBARATI G. SAPIR & HEDWIG DECONINCK

Political Background The Siad Barre regime, which seized power in a coup in 1969, espoused a scientific socialism that degenerated into a dictatorship marked by manipulation of clan loyalties and rivalries. 10 This situation provided fertile ground for the development of internal resistance, and from the early 1980s, political parties or militias based on clan structures were established. Civil war finally erupted in 1988. This alone should have been a sufficient indication of what was to comepreventive action could have been launched, had the will existed. Having lost his Cold War allies and operating under financial pressure, Barre encouraged his troops to turn to banditry as a means of subsistence. UN and other international personnel were evacuated from Mogadishu as early as mid-December 1990, and the violence continued until Barre's fall at the end of January 1991. 11 Barre was overthrown by the United Somali Congress (USC), which was supported by the Somali Patriotic Movement (SPM) and the Somali National Movement (SNM), later to become the leading party of Somaliland. The political leader ofthe USC, Ali Mahdi Mohammed, appointed himself interim president, creating an internecine dispute with General Mohammed Farah Aidid. As these events unfolded, world attention was fixed on the looming war in the Gulf. Although some humanitarian organizations returned to Somalia in February, the United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF) was the first UN agency to reenter the country-in August. The United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) representative's office was reestablished in 1992 after a prolonged absence. 12 By this time, the north of the country, led by the Somali National Movement, 13 had unilaterally declared its independence. There was little international humanitarian activity in 1991. A few NGOs had operating offices in Somalia, but-with the exception of UNICEF-UN agencies remained in Nairobi, undertaking occasional sorties into Somalia. Hunger, malnutrition, and disease increased as the civil population became ever more vulnerable to drought, displacement, and violence.

Institutional Parameters and Dimensions of Conflict UN Humanitarian Structures In April 1992, UN Security Council Resolution 751 created UNOSOM I to oversee humanitarian operations. The special representative of the UN Secretary-General, Mohamed Sahnoun, was in Mogadishu by early May, but UNOSOM I lasted effectively only until the end of September, when Sahnoun resigned following policy disagreements between the UN offices in New York and those in Somalia. 14 UNOSOM I was followed by a U.S.-led intervention, the Unified Task Force (UNITAF), which arrived under a media spotlight on the night of December 8, 1992, to launch Operation Restore Hope. UNITAF consisted of

Figure 9.1

Time Evolution of Significant Events in Somalia Crises, 1991-1993

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38,000 troops, of which 25,800 were American, 15 and its objective was to "establish as soon as possible a secure environment for humanitarian relief operations and use all necessary means to establish relief." UNITAF was under U.S. command and lasted until May 4, 1993, when responsibility was handed over to UNOSOM IT and its 28,000 multinational troops and 2,800 civilian personnel. Although the United Nations took command of this Chapter Vll operation (the force commander was Turkish General Cevik Bir), the deputy commander (General Frank Montgomery) and the new special representative (Admiral Jonathan Howe) were Americans. A small contingent of U.S. military personnel (a 1,000-person Quick Reaction Force and 8,000 logistics personnel) remained under direct U.S. command, reporting to General Montgomery. In August 1993, additional U.S. forces were dispatched, including the elite Rangers who reported directly to their base in Florida. 16 Figure 9.1 describes schematically the evolution of significant events over time.

Domestic Lead-Up to the Crisis With the fall of Barre, fighting broke out between two rival USC factions led by Ali Mahdi and Mohammed Aidid. The capital became a battleground, with an estimated death toll of more than 14,000 civilians between November 1991 and March 1992. Troops loyal to Barre were pursued by Aidid's forces and fled to the country's richest farmland, between the Shebelle and Juba Rivers. For months, heavy fighting disrupted food production and distribution and was possibly a more significant contributor to the famine than was the continuing drought. In 1992, as clan alliances began collapsing, fighting became increasingly factionalized, with general lawlessness prevailing as clan fighters turned to looting and theft. The black market was overwhelmed with weapons arriving from around the world, despite the international embargo.

Humanitarian Needs in Somalia, 1992-1993 Why Was Somalia Different? Insecurity, drought, and war-related damage to agricultural infrastructure and livestock caused massive displacement of populations and reduced food production. But the main humanitarian needs, and the conditions in which relief had to be delivered, were little different from those experienced in Mozambique, Ethiopia, Sudan, and Chad. 17 Three factors, however, distinguish Somalia from the other countries in terms of provision of humanitarian services. First, the breakdown of formal structures and national authority was a new situation for the international community. Humanitarian agencies and the United Nations were not prepared to deal with traditional structures and informal networks. This unpreparedness

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aggravated the lack of coordination of humanitarian operations because it was combined with a laissez-faire situation among international agencies-events such as unannounced arrivals offood shipments-and provided more opportunities for looting. 18 Second, many humanitarian agencies used private militia and requested armed protection for the first time in their histories. The interdiction concerning the use of local armed personnel was overridden even by the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), which created a Catch-22 in which the agencies and the United Nations itself became entangled in the conflict by feeding the war economy. Extortion was rife, although a settlement was reached between the agencies and local groups over payment for various services, including rights to unload food at ports, ad hoc road tolls, and storage. This equilibrium was subsequently jeopardized by the sudden entry of the United Nations, which often paid higher rates than those negotiated and effectively broke the NGO cartel and inflated prices. 19 Finally, the use of special combat troops such as the Quick Reaction Force, the Rangers, and U.S. Marines was unprecedented within a UN humanitarian operation. Their presence could hardly be construed as peaceful and was eventually responsible for the loss of both international and Somali public support for the United Nations. The fundamental fault lay not with the actions of these units in Somalia but with the decision to send them instead of a more appropriately trained and equipped policing unit. Human Impact of the Crisis Civil disorder and drought largely affected the civilian population, in particular the most vulnerable (the population of the Shebelle-Juba River area, the Bantu and Rahanweyn ethnic groups, female-headed households, children, and the elderly). 20 Adult malnutrition, although neglected, was a severe problem in some areas and had serious implications not only for child survival but also for the economic survival of the family. 21 Researchers, even from the United Nations and its agencies, collected little data and carried out few surveys, although information provides the foundations for future policies and programs. Displacement. Mass displacement as a result of insecurity and food shortages destroyed much of the social fabric of communities. Traditional structures that provided the equivalents of social security, pension funds, and child-care ceased to exist as entire villages uprooted themselves. For a fragile population, this situation was catastrophic. Over a period of time, much of the country (particularly the south and the center) suffered from such displacement. Communities either served as hosts to the displaced or were displaced themselves. In 1993, nearly 80 percent of the population surveyed in Belet-Weyn and Mogadishu had been displaced, and more than a third of the families had been displaced two times or more. 22

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DEBARATI G. SAPIR & HEDWIG DECONINCK

Trends in mortality. Crude mortality rates increased following 1991 and were significantly higher for the displaced than for the nondisplaced. A 1993 survey reported that 40 percent of the displaced population in Baidoa died during the 232 days of the survey, compared with 11 percent among the residents and displaced persons combined in Afgoi.2 3 Infant and child deaths are the focus of our analysis, as they are sensitive indicators of general health conditions. 24 A rate of 54.6 deaths per 1,000 children per year (1988) is the baseline for assessing the gravity of the crisis phases. Summarized results of surveys arranged overtime appear in Figure 9 .2. The rates have been calculated from data cited in reports, and an attempt is made to reconstitute a global picture. Although there is no doubt that health conditions were alarming, these rates probably overestimate the gravity of the situation. Displacement camps generally house people who are in the worst condition, and high mortality rates are normal. In addition, humanitarian agencies conducted the surveys and focused on areas of need. Ideally, a sample representing a profile of the population would be required in order to appreciate the extent of the crisis. The different estimates taken together, however, provide an approximation in the absence of better data. As depicted in Figure 9.2, child mortality rates from 1987 to 1990 already showed a steady rise. Estimates for the next period were derived from a study conducted in 1991-1992 by Serge Manoncourt, who reported mortality rates of 115.4 for resident child populations and 240.6 for displacement camps. The following period (mid-1992) shows an alarming rise, particularly among displaced persons in Baidoa. There were a reported 32 deaths per 10,000 persons per day, reflecting the deaths of up to 75 percent of the child population in displacement camps. 25 Based on the above data. Figure 9.3 provides estimates of excess mortality using the 1988 rate to calculate the expected number of child deaths per year. According to this calculation, excess mortality was highest in 1991, then a decline can be observed. However, excess mortality calculated in 1993 shows a steady rise until early 1992, after which it declines (Figure 9.4). One could conclude from this that conditions were the worst in late 1991 and early 1992, when rates were three or more times normal levels. Mortality rates fell in most of the country in 1993, although high mortality was reported in certain areas. 26 Serious outbreaks of common infectious diseases occurred and had devastating effects on a weakened and malnourished population. The shigella dysentery epidemic of April 1992 in Baidoa was, for example, the most important cause of death, along with measles (77 percent and 53 percent among the Baidoa and Afgoi groups, respectively). 27 The main causes of death in Somalia were diarrheal disease and measles, both of which are easily prevented at low cost and with high efficiency. 28 Much of the infant and child mortality could have been avoided had vaccination programs received greater priority in normal times or been undertaken as a preparedness measure for an impending crisis. Common

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•

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Figure 9.3 Excess Mortality Among Children Under Five Years of Age in Somalia, Based on Constant 1988 Child Mortality Rate 700 600

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Figure 9.4 Excess Mortality Among Children Under Five Years of Age in Somalia, Based on Constant 1988 Child Mortality Rate (1990-1993)

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Source:

Adapted from Steven Hansch, Nutrition, Food Security and Health in Somalia: Assessment and Recommendations (Food Aid Management, February 1993), 2.

preparedness measures, even when a crisis seems inevitable, do not seem to be among the priorities of humanitarian agencies. Nutritional status ofchildren. In crises, nutritional surveys provide an estimate of the magnitude of food shortages and assist with the calculation of the amount of food required. They also indicate whether therapeutic feeding is needed and form a basis for program evaluation. In 1991, the ICRC reported that 38 percent of children under age five were severely malnourished, compared with between 10 percent and 12 percent in previous Sahel famines. In 1992, the situation deteriorated, with a reported rate of 75 percent severe malnutrition in displacement camps. In autumn 1993, the rates fell to 7 percent in displacement camps in Kismayo, perhaps because high death rates removed the weakest people. 29 Despite the encouraging progress with regard to nutrition during this year, there were several reports of pockets of severe food crisis and disease outbreak. 30 Food. In June 1992, the ICRC estimated the food requirement at approximately 50,000 tons a month. Food deliveries, however, were brought to a virtual halt by the security situation at the Kismayo and Mogadishu ports and on supply routes. With the famine worsening, humanitarian agencies sought UN-sponsored armed protection in summer 1992, when the special representative made an appeal to the Security CouncilY Security at ports and protection for convoys were the main focus of appeals.

•

ASSISTANCE & INTERVENTION IN SOMALIA

161

Figure 9.5 Total Monthly Shipments of WFP Food Aid Unloaded at Mogadishu Port, May 1991 to September 1993 metric tons

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Figure 9.6 Monthly Grain Prices in Somali Markets in Somali Shillings, July 1992 to March 1993 shillings/unit

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162

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Figure 9.7 Proportional Distribution of Cereal and Noncereal Food Aid to Somalia by WFP, 1991 to 1994

Percent 100

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The delivery offood shipments by the World Food Programme (WFP) at the port of Mogadishu in 1991-1993 is presented in Figure 9.5. The shipments increase around July 1992, possibly reflecting the global response to Sahnoun' s appeal and, eventually, a relative improvement in security conditions. Figure 9.6 presents data on grain prices in selected markets in Somalia during the period July 1992 to March 1993. Prices of maize fell to a third of their July 1992 value by September 1992 and to a third of that by March 1993. As food production was known to be very low in 1991-1992, the drop in prices was probably the result of the increased supply offood aid that saturated local markets. 32 On the other hand, it also indicates that food aid was being distributed to inland destinations. The composition of the food aid also changed in this period. The proportion of high-value foods, such as oils and sugar, to low-value cereals increased over time (Figure 9.7). Oils and sugar are preferred aid items because of their low bulk, high energy content, and popularity among recipients. Their popularity also makes them attractive to bandits, who profit from their high resale value in local markets. Humanitarian agencies and the special representative had on several occasions requested a reduction in the amount of the high-value foods but with little success.

ASSISTANCE & INTERVENTION IN SOMALIA

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Use of local structures and human resources. The general perception of the situation in Somalia by the United Nations and many humanitarian agencies was that of complete disintegration of local structures and institutions during the three crisis years. This perception prompted sundry emergency NGOs to establish parallel structures of their own, setting up individual priorities and carving out areas of operations as they chose. Neither the United Nations nor the more responsible and reflective donor agencies gave enough thought to identifying local institutions or groups in order to strengthen them for the future. 33 These institutions were disoriented, weakened, and under tremendous financial stress. Somali professionals often worked long periods without pay, maintained only by savings, local businesspeople, and some foreign NGOs. 34 The Emergency Health Committee, established by health professionals in Mogadishu as fighting abated after the fall of Barre, was an example of a local initiative. The committee, consisting largely of former Health Ministry officials, later became the Joint Health Authority. This was one of the few agencies that not only maintained technical standards for primary health care and essential programs, such as the Expanded Program of Immunization, but that also carried out its activities with impunity across conflict lines. Donor support for this and other institutions, however, was rarely forthcoming. The UNOSOM Humanitarian Office discouraged the authority's participation at planning meetings and similar events. Its only support came indirectly through NGOs that recognized the importance of keeping the local flame burning as a basis for future nation building.35 A lack of imagination--or worse, an obtusenessprevented UNOSOM from supporting these institutions, whose potential was indisputable.

UN Military Intervention-Reach and Overreach of Power In 1992, the insecurity of international personnel and local civilians became a serious hindrance to the distribution of humanitarian supplies in Somalia. Although 500 UN soldiers from Pakistan arrived in September, they were unable to accomplish their mandate; in fact, they could not even deploy. The UN Security Council subsequently approved another 2,500 soldiers, but their deployment was conditional upon the accord of the local leaders, which never came. During this phase a plan to establish regional offices with a political negotiator, a peacekeeping commander, and a humanitarian office was also developed in cooperation with local factions and elders. The importance of political negotiations with local groups was recognized by UNOSOM I, but progress was sporadic. Advances made during UNOSOM I experienced a setback during the UNITAF phase and resumed only a few months later. As a result, not only did the previous agreements backslide, but UN local credibility also suffered. Furthermore, differences in policy developed between the field office and headquarters. The Secretary-General's special

164

DEBARATI G. SAPIR & HEDWIG DECONINCK

representative for Somalia promoted a policy of political negotiations toward reconciliation, with security only a limited and supportive action, but the Secretary-General's office favored active military intervention. 36 UNITAF arrived in Mogadishu with a limited and militarily unclear mandate. It was expected to "create a secure environment," which, although politically acceptable as a UN resolution, was difficult to translate into mission objectives.37 Overall coordination of the military operation was compromised further by contingents reporting to their own governments. In addition, humanitarian agencies that assumed the military had been sent to protect them discovered that, at least in the beginning, the military did not see itself as guardian of the NGOs. Finally, the elders and other civilians were disappointed by the inability of the forces to control banditry. Mandates, covering issues such as disarmament, differed among contingents. The contingents that interpreted the resolution as including disarmament disarmed private militias that were guarding the humanitarian operations without providing alternative protection. By March 1993, six humanitarian workers, including three expatriates, had been killed because of the lack of either private or general security.38 Disarmament also included the removal of arms from Somali civilians, who had no other protection and were therefore at the mercy of bandits. The security of sea, airports, and supply routes was achieved by UNITAF and significantly reduced the extortion rackets and logistic barriers that had plagued humanitarian efforts. UNITAF also organized food convoys. Its protection of all agencies improved the efficiency ofNGO food deliveries. General insecurity remained a serious threat, particularly in areas such as Merca, Kismayo, and Mogadishu. From February 1993 onward, there were increasing reports of random banditry and attacks on humanitarian personnel andjournalists. 39 The availability of arms caused insecurity, raised disarmament issues in Somalia, and sparked military action; this is basically the result of the continued massive supply of artillery into the country for many years. Figure 9.8 presents the U.S. dollar values of arms deliveries to Somalia from 1973 to 1989. More disconcerting is the fact that as late as 1993, the United Nations intercepted one ship (the Maria, Greek registered) carrying 400 tons of Serbian arms-the fifth such vessel within a three-month period. At least two other ships may have escaped confiscation during this period.40 By the end of the UNITAF era, the armed forces were accused of partisanship in both Mogadishu and Kismayo. Weak attempts at setting up local police forces, coupled with selective house searches for weapons, for example, eroded their neutrality. UNITAF forces started to make an enemy out of General Aidid and his allies, a situation that was subsequently reinforced by UNOSOM 11. 41 The June 5, 1993, ambush of the UN forces by Aidid' s militia turned the tide of events. A small group of Pakistani soldiers was instructed to inspect a weapons cantonment of General Aidid' s near the radio station. Aidid was informed about the intended search in advance. He was apparently suspicious of

400

Figure 9.8 Values of Arms Deliveries to Somalia (for four different periods, 1973-1989) 1973-1977

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DEBARATI G. SAPIR & HEDWIG DECONINCK

this move at this particular time, as he had previously been repeatedly marginalized by the United Nations and the United States. The UN forces were ambushed as they withdrew from the inspection; twenty-four were killed and fifty-four wounded. 42 The battle between General Aidid's forces and the UN troops began in earnest. The UNOSOM military intervention in the second half of 1993 was only faintly humanitarian; it concentrated mostly on pursuing Aidid. Security Council Resolution 837 of June 6, 1993, authorized the Secretary-General to take all necessary measures to arrest, sentence, and punish those responsible for the ambush. Consequently, violence increased throughout June and July. The UN forces launched night bombing raids and mistakenly attacked at least one humanitarian agency as well as killing civilians. 43 The violence escalated in Mogadishu following the July 12 daytime air attack on a political meeting. Somali civilian opinion, until then in favor of the UN and U.S. presence, turned against the peacekeepers, who were now seen as intruders. In this way, the UnitedN ations became another faction in the civil war. Abuse of power was an issue even within the UN operation, as witnessed by the Italian threat to withdraw because of disagreement with the UN command over excessive use of force. 44 The battle between the United Nations and General Aidid's forces came to ahead on October3, when 17U.S. troops were killed and 78 wounded. In addition, more than 200 Somalis were killed. On October 17, Ambassador Albright declared an end to the hunt for General Aidid, partly because of pressure from the U.S. Congress. The United Nations finally returned to its original path--one of diplomacy and negotiation. At the end of November, a fourth coordination meeting on humanitarian assistance was called in Addis Ababa to discuss nationbuilding plans for Somalia, and General Aidid was an invited guest.

Conclusion The UN operations in Somalia began with UNOSOM I, which initiated political negotiations involving local authorities and established relations with humanitarian agencies. The security situation remained highly unstable, however, and the need for safeguarding humanitarian action was still acute. UNITAF altered the situation on the ground because it was essentially a high-powered military operation, following which the United Nations clearly had difficulty recovering its original objectives. The final phase, UNOSOM II, became progressively enmeshed in local action and ended up devoting its energies to fighting a Somali warlord. Whereas the policy of international armed intervention was appropriate, application of the policy in the form of large contingents of troops appears to have overshot the target. The composition of the military units could have been more appropriate in view ofthe causes of the insecurity-namely, banditry and extortion. Policing units would probably have been the better profile.

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The UN operations in Somalia were characterized, on the one hand, by extraordinary generosity and goodwill and, on the other hand, by an alarming lack of reflection and planning. Established precautions and principles for humanitarian action in conflicts, reinforced by repeated advice from field agencies, seem to have been ignored. Although they could have been undertaken at a fraction of the cost of military efforts, the following crucial humanitarian actions never received priority. • Stepped-up vaccination campaigns could have reduced mortality levels and protected children from future epidemics. • Reduction of the amounts of high-value food supplies would have reduced the incentive for looting. • Development of retraining programs for demobilized soldiers and the introduction of public employment programs would have helped to reconstruct the human resource base, to facilitate disarmament, and to control violence. • Emergency reconstruction of sanitary systems would have preempted cholera outbreaks that predictably occurred in spring 1994. It is useful to highlight seven lessons that emerge from the analysis: 1. Success of Military Intervention For the first time in their histories, humanitarian agencies requested armed support in Somalia. They possibly got more than they bargained for, but the military presence went a long way toward securing ports and providing protection to food convoys. To a certain extent, general security also improved, and heavy artillery was impounded. 2. Peacekeepers on the Ground-A No-Win Situation UN forces in Somalia were faced with a situation for which they had received neither the appropriate training nor the necessary operational mission objectives. More important, internal disagreements and confusing mandates compromised their ability to function optimally. This was mainly a result of the fact that Security Council resolutions (e.g., ''use all means necessary" or "create a secure environment") were achievable only through a strategy of war in the absence of clearer field guidelines oriented toward humanitarian action. Thus, the field commanders and troops were placed in an operational dilemma not of their making. 3. Choice of Military Strategy-An Incorrect Reading of the Problem The view that Somalia was a simple military problem involving disorganized groups equipped with low-technology arms was embarrassingly naive and incorrect. President Bush misjudged the situation sufficiently to declare in November 1992 that U.S. forces would be back within months, some as early as the inauguration (less than two months away). The troops eventually left the country on March 31, 1994, under a cloud of criticism at

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home and abroad. The loss of neutrality of the UN forces was a serious setback and an impediment to the success of the peacekeeping operations and was largely responsible for the escalation of violence. 4. Accountability Institutional accountability for military incidents involving the Somalis effectively did not exist. 45 The number of incidents of human rights abuses at all levels (from intimidation to shooting into civilian crowds) was unprecedented.46 In general, Somali casualties were rarely accounted for systematically, although qualitative mentions acknowledged the many deaths of women and children reported by ICRC. Allegations of shootings were frequently countered by the claim that the victim was a "bandit," but no one could verify the charges. This situation aggravated the sense of outrage and injustice among both local people and the humanitarian agencies working with them. 47 5. Reality of Somali Culture The cultural insensitivity of the United Nations toward Somali problem solving was evident in many ways. Reconciliation meetings, held at short notice, fixed schedules and agendas and countered the fundamental Somali approach to discussion and solving problems. The comparative success of Somaliland, in which the Council of Elders organized an open-ended reconciliation meeting for a period of four months, resulted in democratic elections. The UN intervention, for the most part, neglected local practices as guidelines for sustainable conflict resolution. This oversight was a significant deficiency. 48 Moreover, the importance of identifying and bolstering local institutions cannot be overemphasized. Some of the failures of the intervention were at least partly a result of distancing these organizations and neglecting their needs. This shortsightedness also implies that nation building would therefore become much more difficult. Although it is not an easy task to select local institutions for support, this issue could have been addressed with more success. 6. Opportunity Costs Humanitarian operations in Somalia were not cheap. Seven months of UN operations in 1993 were estimated to cost $1.5 billion. One estimate claims that only 0.7 percent of this sum was spent on humanitarian aid, 49 whereas another estimates 10 percent for the period. 50 The Secretary-General in November 1993 made the gross commitment of $84.5 million a month for the UNOSOM operation during the November 1993 to February 1994 period. 5 1 Additional aid arrived directly from bilateral donors such as the European Union, which spent roughly $14 million. 52 With annual GNP per capita in Somalia at $170, the amount spent could have rebuilt the entire country, and the humanitarian action could have been quadrupled or more. It is possible that a judicious mix of humanitarian action and nation-building initiatives early in UNOSOM IT could have resolved the situation at a lower cost. At these expense levels, the financial implication of military involvement demands a cautious approach and justifies a better examination of the opportunity costs.

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7. Military Intervention and Humanitarian Needs Although the decision for military deployment was clearly indisputable, the type of military services provided by UNITAF and UN OS OM did not appear to serve the humanitarian action significantly. First, food shipments unloaded in Mogadishu began increasing in July, reaching a peak in December 1992 when the UNITAF forces arrived. Field agencies had to maintain their private militias throughout this period. In addition, several hundred Somalis, plus eighteen UNITAF troops and at least fifty-seven UNOSOM II peacekeepers, were killed in clashes between UN forces and Somalis. Finally, the image of the neutral United Nations was tarnished. The claims of improvement in mortality and nutritional status in 1993 can be questioned. There is no convincing evidence to conclude that this improvement was a result of better conditions or whether, in fact, the most vulnerable people had already died. Given the extremely high death rates of 1992, the latter may be the more likely explanation of the amelioration of nutritional rates in 1993. In 1988, an averageof214 Somali children died each day. 53 From that point, the civil war can only have aggravated the situation. The international community did not see fit to support democratic development at that time but in 1993 was willing to spend more than $1.5 billion on the humanitarian-military operation. Somalia exemplifies all points of contention relating to humanitarian response to famine, civil disorder, and the demise of national structures. It should be a lesson to the world. Although one can hope that such a situation will not occur again, recent events in Liberia and Rwanda make it clear that such situations are likely to recur and that coherent policies should be developed based on these experiences.

Notes The authors gratefully acknowledge the assistance received from Save the Children Fund UK, Richard Burge, Hussain Mursal, and John Seaman; Somali Joint Health Authority, Ali Abdi Mohamed; Cabinet of the Minister of Defence, Belgium, Col. Sparenberg; European Commission, Sigrid Tiling, Edgar Thielmann, and Alain Tonnet; United States Marine Corps, Maj. Buddy Tillet; UNOSOM, Hugh Cholmondeley and Charles Petrie; UN Department of Humanitarian Affairs, Lance Clark; the Belgian Red Cross, Luth Cloetens; MSF-Belgium, Patrick Caesar; and World Food Programme, George Simon. 1. Brian Urquhart, ''The United Nations in 1992: Problems and Opportunities," International Affairs 68, no. 2 (1992): 311-319. 2. Thomas G. Weiss, "Intervention: Whither the United Nations?" Washington Quarterly 17, no. l (1993): 109-128. 3. Bread for the World Institute on Hunger and Development, Hunger 1992: Second Annual Report on the State of World Hunger (Washington, D.C.: Bread for the World Institute on Hunger and Development, 1991), 185.

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4. See J. Drysdale, Whatever Happened to Somalia? A Tale of Tragic Blunders (London: Haan Associates, 1994), 160. 5. Thephysician!populationratio(per 1,000pop.)was0.2,0.1, 0.4, 0.3,and l.Ofor Eritrea, Ethiopia, Tanzania, Rwanda, and Kenya, respectively, compared with 0.6 in Somalia. L'Etat du Monde, Annuaire economique et geopolitique mondial (Paris: Editions La Decouverte, 1994), 287-289. 6. For the purposes of this chapter, malnutrition is defined as the weight-for-height of a child who is less than two standard deviations or less than 80 percent of the median of the international reference population. 7. World Bank, Somalia: Framework for Planning of Long-Tenn Reconstruction andRecovery,documentpreparedfortheconsortium(USAID,EC,FAO,IMF,UNCTAD, UNDP, UNESCO, UNICEF, and NGOs) (Paris: World Bank, 1993), 25. 8. Pieter Knapen, Soma lie: Restore Hope. Een land tussen hoop en vrees (Antwerp: Standaard Utigeverij, 1993). 9. Michael J. Toole and Ronald J. Waldman, "An Analysis of Mortality Trends Among Refugee Populations in Somalia, Sudan and Thailand," Bulletin ofWHO 66, no. 2 (1988): 237-247. 10. See Knapen, Somaliii: Restore Hope. 11. Africa Watch, "Somalia Beyond the Warlords: The Need for a Verdict on Human Rights Abuses," News from African Watch 5, no. 2 (March 7, 1993). 12. "Statement by Ambassador Mohamed Sahnoun, Special Representative of the Secretary-General for Somalia, at the Coordination Meeting on Humanitarian Assistance to Somalia," Geneva, October 12, 1992. 13. The declaration of an independent Somaliland was received with apathy by the international community, which to this day has not recognized the state. Somalia (previously an Italian colony) and Somaliland were integrated under British rule after World War ll. Although devastated by the civil war, Somaliland consolidated administrative structures and restored some semblance of order despite the increasing chaos surrounding it. 14. Although the performance, policies, and diplomatic savoir faire of Sahnoun were much appreciated, as evidenced in reports by humanitarian agencies and independent observers, lack of coordination between policies of the field offices and headquarters led him to submit his resignation to the Secretary-General. An indication of donor confidence in Sahnoun' s policies is seen in the remarkably high proportion of actual contributions to UNOSOM I (81 percent) compared with the appeal amount of $82.7 million. The comparable figure during UNOSOM ll was 17 percent of the appeal amount. For a discussion, see Drysdale, Whatever Happened to Somalia? 64-66. 15. L'EtatduMonde: Annuaire economique et geopolitique mondial (Paris: Editions La Decouverte, 1994), 287-289. 16. JohnR.Bolton, "Wrong Tum in Somalia," ForeignAffairs73,no.1 (JanuaryFebruary 1994):56-66; "Making No Peace," The Economist (November20, 1993):4344. 17. Joanna McRae and Anthony B. Zwi, "Food as an Instrument of War in Contemporary African Famines: AReviewoftheEvidence," Disasters 16, no.4(1992): 299-321. 18. World Bank, Somalia: An Institutional Framework (Paris: World Bank, October 22, 1993), 5. 19. "Statement by Ambassador Mohamed Sahnoun," 2-3. 20. See World Bank, Somalia: Framework for Planning, 26-27. 21. Steve Collins, "Famine in Somalia," Lancet341, no. 8858 (JuneS, 1993): 1479. 22. See Save the Children Fund-UK, Preliminary Report on the Effect of War on Children in Belet Weyn, June 25, 1993. 23. Patrick S. Moore et al., "Mortality Rates in Displaced and Resident Populations

ASSISTANCE & INTERVENTION IN SOMALIA

171

of Central Somalia During 1992 Famine," Lancet 341 (April10, 1993): 935-938. 24. The preconflict infant mortality rate for Somalia was around 122 per 1,000 live births. Generally, the highest risk of death is in the first year of life, and child mortality (i.e., under five years of age) is half or less than half of this figure per 1,000 children of that age. See Bread for the World Institute, Hunger 1990 (Washington, D.C.: Bread for the World Institute on Hunger and Development, 1990), 109. 25. Moore et al., "Mortality Rates"; and Toole and Waldman, "An Analysis of Mortality Trends," have suggested adapting the mortality rate, which is usually expressed as over 1,000 persons per year, to 10,000 persons per day in emergencies. In this case, they propose a crude mortality rate of 1 per 10,000 per day as the threshold between an emergency and the normal state. This translates to' a mortality rate of approximately 36.5 per 1,000 per year. In our table, in order to permit comparisons across studies, we have recomputed the child mortality rates to be expressed as the number of deaths of children under age five over the total number of children under five. 26. United Nations, November Information Report: Somalia, 1-30 November 1993 (Geneva: UN DHA, 1993), 2. 27. Moore et al., "Mortality Rates," 935-938. 28. Deaths from diarrheal disease can be successfully avoided through oral rehydration. However, antibiotic treatment may also be required for bacterial or protozoal dysentery. The efficacy of the measles vaccine is as high as 100 percent when children are vaccinated a year after birth. The efficacy is also dependent upon logistical support, such as functioning cold-chain systems. 29. Medecins sans Frontieres, Life, Death, and Aid (Paris: Pluriel, 1993), 99-107; and UNICEF, Somalia 1993 Annual Report on Country Situation (New York: UNICEF, 1993), 23-24. 30. United Nations, November Information Report, 2. 31. "Statement by Ambassador Mohamed Sahnoun." 32. World Bank, Somalia: Framework for Planning, 39. 33. Several groups were recognized by international humanitarian agencies as having been active in humanitarian and nation-building activities such as the Women's Development Organisation, started in 1991; the Union for Somali Salvation Youth; the Somali Relief and Rehabilitation Association; and the Somali Relief Association. These groups participated in some meetings but rarely received systematic support. 34. See African Rights, Somalia: OperationRestore Hope: A Preliminary Assessment (London: African Rights, May 1993), 42-43. 35. BasedmainlyonmeetingswithUNOSOMhumanitarianofficerswhoconflrmed that Somali organizations (including the Joint Health Authority, now recognized and supported) were not given "yellow cards" for access to anodyne, humanitarian planning meetings. During discussions, several Somali organizations expressed outrage and humiliation at this approach. 36. See James 0. C. Jonah, "Humanitarian Intervention," in Thomas G. Weiss and Larry Minear (eds.), Humanitarianism Across Borders: Sustaining Civilians in Times of War (Boulder: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1993), 69-83; and Jeffrey Clark, "Debacle in Somalia," in Lori Fisler Darnrosch (ed.), Enforcing Restraint: Collective Intervention in Internal Conflicts (New York: Council on Foreign Relations, 1993), 205-239. 37. See AndrewS. Natsios, "Food Through Force: Humanitarian Intervention and U.S. Policy," Washington Quarterly 17, no. 1 (1994): 129-144. 38. International Federation of the Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies, Somalia Relief and Rehabilitation Programme (Geneva: IFRC, 1993), 3-6. 39. For further information, see a series of reports from the International Federation of the Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies, Somalie: Assistance Sanitaire d'Urgence, Rapport de Situation n ·1, 1992; Somalie: Assistance Sanitaire d' Urgence, Rapport de Situation n •2, February 11, 1993; and Somalia: Emergency Health Assistance, Situation

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DEBARATI G. SAPIR & HEDWIG DECONINCK

Report 3 (Geneva: ICRC, March 23, 1993). Also see "The Continuing Emergency, United Nations Operations in Somalia, Division of Humanitarian Affairs," Paper 2, 3, which was presented at the Fourth Humanitarian Conference on Somalia in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, from November 29 to December 1, 1993. 40. "Somalie: Entree en Scene des Nations-Unies," Africa Confidential (March 22, 1993): 5-7. 41. This point is made in a number of reports, for example, in UNICEF, UNICEF Somalia I 993 Annual Report on Country Situation (New York: UNICEF, 1993), 2; Save the Children Fund-UK, Situation Report: Somalia, May-June I993 (London: Save the Children Fund, 1993 ), 7-11; and African Rights, Somalia: Operation Restore Hope, 2829. 42. See Save the Children Fund-UK, Situation Report: Somalia, May-June I993,

3. 43. M. Littlejohns, ''Troops Ignore UN Orders as Somalia Crisis Worsens," Financial Times (July 14, 1993): 5; Save the ChildrenFund-UK, Situation Report: Somalia, MayJune 1993, 2-5; African Rights, Somalia: Human Rights Abuses by the United Nations Forces, 5-8. 44. M. Alberizzi, "U.S. Troops Hunt Somali Gunmen in Mogadishu," Reuters, September 19, 1993. Despite a growing consensus over the irregular and excessive use of force, General Montgomery, commander of the U.S. troops in Somalia, requested heavier fighting equipment, which the Pentagon refused. 45. National contingents such as the United States, Canada, and Belgium created, after protests from African Rights, a bureau to receive complaints. In practice, its existence was virtually unknown to the public and was largely restricted to complaints concerning traffic accidents and the like; therefore, it served no real purpose. 46. See African Rights, Somalia: Operation Restore Hope, 36--41; and Save the Children-UK, Situation Report: Somalia, May-June 1993, 4-6. 47. African Rights, Somalia: Human Rights Abuses by the United Nations Forces (London: African Rights, July 1993), 16-33. 48. "Hom of Africa, Quo Vadis?" Hom of Africa Bulletin 5, no. 4 (July-August 1993): 16-25. 49. Drysdale, Whatever Happened to Somalia? 12. 50. The Economist (April16, 1993): 51-52. Former Under-Secretary-General for Humanitarian Affairs Jan Eliasson frequently cited in public appearances that a tenth of the total assistance to Somalia was spent on humanitarian action. 51. United Nations, Further Report ofthe Secretary-General Submitted in Pursuance ofParagraph 19 of Resolution 814 (1993) and Paragraph A5 ofResolution 865 (1993) (New York: United Nations, November 12, 1993), 24. 52. European Commission Humanitarian Office Data from Somalia Desk, Brussels, 1993. 53. This figure has been calculated from statistics provided in the report entitled "Statistics on Children in UNICEF-Assisted Countries," UNICEF Monograph, New York, 1990, and includes all children under five years of age.

• 10 •

Regional Leadership and Universal Implementation in El Salvador's Quest for Peace ---~---~-

------

CRISTINA EGUIZABAL

The Salvadoran conflict of 1980 to 1992 was at heart a domestic affair. But it became a regional matter because of the presence of the Sandinista government in Nicaragua, the ties between the Sandinistas and the leadership ofEl Salvador's Farabundo Martf Front for National Liberation (FMLN), and the Reagan administration's appraisal of the situation. Consequently, the regionally oriented Contadora Group Initiative and the Esquipulas Peace Plan became, in effect, the first stages ofEl Salvador's internal peace process, or, in the parlance of negotiation theory, the "prenegotiation phases" oftheChapultepec agreement of January 1992, which ended the country's civil strife. Furthermore, one of the stumbling blocks in the early stages of the search for a political solution to the Central American crisis was to determine the proper setting and participants in order to achieve a sustained dialogue. Were exchanges to be held bilaterally between the Reagan administration and the Sandinista government? Was the Organization of American States (OAS) suited to serve as the framework for regional negotiations? Or was it necessary for the United Nations to step in? Bilateral conversations between Managua and Washington were shortlived. Following the Falkland Islands-Malvinas War of 1982, the OAS was unable to regain legitimacy as a representative hemispheric organization. Finally, throughout the Cold War the U.S. government remained adamantly opposed to UN involvement in the Western Hemisphere. Because of its prominent budgetary and political leverage within the OAS, the United States preferred initiatives by the regional organization rather than by the universal United Nations. As the East-West conflict faded, the U.S. need to control events in its backyard subsided. Consequently, the United States welcomed the international community's peacemaking efforts. The 1989 settlement of the war between the Sandinista government of Nicaragua and the contras was a remnant of the Cold

173

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Map 10.1 Central American Region National Boundaries and Capital Cities

ATLANTIC OCEAN

Source: UNHCRICIREFCA, February 1993.

War, which accounts for the more prominent role played by the OAS in demobilizing the contras than it played in other conflicts in the region. The Salvadoran peace process was not treated as a Cold War issue by Washington, and this accounted for the increased trust bestowed upon the international community (the United Nations and the "four friends"Spain, Venezuela, Colombia, and Mexico) to reach a negotiated settlement. This chapter attempts to show how the Salvadoran peace process evolved, from the eruption of the conflict and the Central American pre negotiation phase-both parties immersed in Cold War dynamics-to the present phase of peace building and democratic governance under the auspices of the United Nations. The review of UN involvement in the process-including confidence-building measures, mediation, human rights verification, cease-fire implementation, land distribution, police development, and election monitoring--enables us to weigh the importance of the role of the international community in settling internal disputes.

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The Salvadoran Conflict For years, Salvadoran rulers refused to acknowledge the signs of discontent within the general population. Neither the big landowners nor the business elites accepted the need for land reform measures that would permit peasants to participate more fully in the modem monetized economy. On the contrary, both of these groups opposed any attempt at land redistribution, thus sacrificing the country's industrial growth and the well-being of the middle class by defending the status quo. Mter having exerted political control of the country for more than forty years, the military was not ready to relinquish its grip on the state apparatusits main source of power and social prestige. Therefore, the military leaders systematically refused to acknowledge the deep political undercurrents among the civilian middle-class who sought access to governmental decisionmaking. The military was conscious, however, of the need to change the patterns of the distribution of wealth in order to preserve itself. In 1976, the military government abandoned all hope of implementing a modernization strategy based on moderate social reforms. This decision followed a failed attempt to modify the land ownership structure, an effort that intensely polarized the national debate and caused the emergence of guerrilla groups on the left and paramilitary groups on the right. From that time on, the government settled on counterinsurgency as its main doctrine. By 1977, human rights violations were so widespread that the Democratic administration of U.S. President Jimmy Carter suspended military aid to General Romero's regime. The situation was so out of control by the end of President Carter's term in 1980 that, in an attempt to regain influence, he resumed aid to the Salvadoran military junta that had just taken power on a reformist platform. But it was too late. Internal polarization was aggravated by Cold War dynamics. The existing internal struggles over land distribution and civil-military relations that had pervadedEl Salvador's political system were cast in ideological terms as a social revolution against imperialism and feudalism. In the early 1980s, concerned with this rhetoric and with the success of the Sandinista revolution in neighboring Nicaragua, the new Reagan administration did not hesitate to frame the Salvadoran conflict in East-West terms, stating that a line had to be drawn there against Soviet expansion. El Salvador became the test case of U.S. resolve. Consequently, a conflict that could have been seen as a classic struggle for democracy in an agrarian society became one of the last theaters of Cold War superpower competition. The degree to which El Salvador's problems could be viewed as a product of U.S. resistance to Soviet expansionism or a product of internal dynamics led to a variety of responses by international actors. By 1982, three broad transnational coalitions had emerged that defined the debate over the best course of action in the region. First, the Central American governments (except for Nicaragua), the Argentine military junta, and the Venezuelan Christian Democrats shared the

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White House view and cooperated with the Reagan administration policy of military action coupled with diplomatic negotiations (the ''two-track approach"). Second, the European Community, the Nordic countries, Mexico, and Colombia formed a more centrist coalition that favored compromise. Third, the countries of the socialist bloc, particularly Cuba, formed the core of the revolutionary coalition that backed the Salvadoran rebels, with endorsement from the NonAligned Movement. 1

Regional and International Approaches to Peace in the Isthmus: From Competition to Collaboration All of the governments stated their support for negotiations, although with varying degrees of conviction and with quite different goals. Two possible negotiation settings competed for legitimacy: the OAS, which was favored by the U.S.-led coalition, and the United Nations, favored by the other two coalitions. The U.S. government's long-standing policy had been to deter discussion of Western Hemisphere matters at the United Nations. Moreover, the United Nations was a sympathetic forum for the left. Most of its members, whether they were European, socialist, or nonaligned, favored the Nicaraguan government's definition of self-determination and endorsed the political legitimacy of the Salvadoran rebels as stated by the Franco-Mexican declaration in August 1981. 2 The actions of the international community prior to 1987 can be seen as constituting competition between the U.S.-Central American coalition and the European-Mexican coalition to define a forum for negotiations. The Reagan administration proposed elections as a means of deflecting growing pressures from the world community for meaningful negotiations. According to the U.S. scenario, the Salvadoran armed forces would not negotiate with the insurgents but would yield power to democratically elected civilian authorities. The rebels were invited to disarm and join the democratic process, a totally unrealistic proposal in light of the rebels' control of territory within the country and international support for their cause. Concerning the Sandinista government in Nicaragua, no political option was acceptable to Washington at that time. The war escalated through the mid- to late 1980s, and the spread of violence became a threat to the neighbors of these small countries. The Contadora Initiative, which had gotten underway in 1983, was the response of the Latin American regional powers to the political impasse. The Contadora Group received blessings from all quarters but true support from none. After four years of incessant diplomatic activity, in 1987 the Contadora Group foreign ministers were ready to give up. Their capacity for political initiative was clearly exhausted; they had prevented the spread of violence outside the borders of Central America but were unable to exact a security compromise among the governments of the region. The time was ripe for a new mediation effort to

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emerge, and it came from the newly elected Costa Rican president, Oscar Arias Sanchez. President Arias's mediation resulted in Esquipulas II, the first agreement reached by the Central American governments that bridged the differences among their states. The agreement also provided a framework for each country to negotiate a settlement of its internal conflict. Of primary concern was Nicaragua's contra war. Also included were methods of negotiation with the FMLN rebels in El Salvador and hopes that the Guatemalan guerrillas would negotiate a cease-fire with the government after almost thirty years of combat. The Esquipulas Peace Plan represented a major realignment within the U.S.-led coalition. After the U.S. government was weakened by the Iran contra affair, its Central American allies were able to act with greater autonomy. The five Central American presidents initialed the Esquipulas Peace Agreement in Guatemala City on August 7, 1987, calling for national dialogues with unarmed political opposition in the five countries, cease-fire negotiations in countries ravaged by war, and democratization, including free elections. The Central American chief executives committed themselves to prohibiting the use of their territory by hostile forces toward each other and demanded that external actors terminate aid to insurgency movements. Finally, they acknowledged the right of refugees to return to their homelands. The International Commission for Verification and Follow-up (CIVS), a huge body with little operational capacity, was to provide for verification procedures. Despite the impotence of the commission, the Central American presidents sought to symbolize continuity in the mediation process by ensuring participation in CIVS of all of the central mediators from the past: representatives of the United Nations; OAS secretaries-general; and foreign ministers of the Contadora countries (Mexico, Venezuela, Colombia, and Panama), the Support Group countries (Argentina, Brazil, Peru, and Uruguay), and the five Central American countries. The presidents dissolved the CIVS in Alajuela barely five months after its inception, calling for a new verification instrument: from then on, the Technical Advisory Group--supported by the governments of Canada, Spain, Germany, and Venezuela, under the UN flag, worked closely with the Esquipulas Executive Commission. Answering a request from the CIVS, the United Nations and the OAS had sent a limited number of peace observers to the region in October 1987. The emissaries reported that the conditions for verification to begin had not been met. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) continued to be the main UN actor in the region. As in 1986, when it supervised Miskitos repatriations across the Honduran-Nicaraguan Atlantic Coast border, UNHCR responded to the Central American presidents' request by supporting the massive repatriations of Salvadoran nationals out of the Honduran refugee camps of Mesa Grande in 1987 to 1988 and of Colomancagua one year later. In both cases, efforts were mounted under very difficult circumstances since ceasefire agreements had not been reached in either country. Peripheral at the

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beginning, the growing UN role as an actor in the peace process reflected the enhanced position of centrist groups in the lineup of forces. This increased involvement would prove to be critical to the final settlement. The year 1989 was a turning point for peace negotiations in Central America. President George Bush, Reagan's successor in the White House, committed his administration to a more open approach toward the region. In February, at the Esquipulas Costa del Sol Summit, Nicaraguan President Daniel Ortega committed his government to liberalizing electoral legislation and to holding general elections two years early, under international supervision. In exchange, his Central American colleagues would set up a plan for the demobilization and disarmament of the contras. A technical commission was charged with submitting a draft project for presidential consideration at the next summit in Honduras to be held at Tela on August 7, 1989. 3 At its May 1989 meeting in Guatemala, the Esquipulas Executive Commission, upon which the presidents had placed the final responsibility of approving the demobilization plan, asked the United Nations and the OAS to take charge of dismantling the contra army. At Tela, three organizational structures were created: the International Support and Verification Commission (CIAV), in which both the United Nations and the OAS would participate; the UN Observer Group in Central America (ONUCA); and the UN Observer Mission to Verify the Electoral Process in Nicaragua (ONUVEN). With the Nicaraguan conflict seemingly bound for a solution, the presidents decided to tum their attention toward seeking an end to the war in El Salvador, where both parties showed signs of a more serious commitment to negotiations.

The United Nations and Peacemaking: From Confidence Building to Mediation in El Salvador Changes in the international setting in which negotiations could take place were, however, only part of the picture. Changes in El Salvador's political dynamics were also critical and, in the final analysis, allowed peacemaking to succeed. From the first meeting between the FMLN and President Napoleon Duarte, held at La Palma on October 15, 1984, to the final Chapultepec agreement, signed on January 16, 1992 under the auspices of the UN Secretary-General, five attempts at negotiating a solution to the civil war took place. The first round of negotiations included the much publicized La Palma and Ayagualo meetings, held by the newly elected Christian Democrat president in October and November 1983. Napoleon Duarte had come into office in June 1983 following an election that had been accepted reluctantly by a significant portion of world opinion as a substitute for negotiations. In a bold move, President Duarte distanced himself from Washington, which had been his main supporter, and invited the insurgents to talk. In spite of the overwhelming support demonstrated by the general population, the negotiations were bound to

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fail without the backing of key players. On one side the Reagan administration, the Salvadoran Armed Forces, and the country's business elites viewed a military victory over the rebels as desirable and feasible. On the other side was the leadership of the FMLN, which still aspired to force the Duarte government into implementing a power-sharing formula. The second rapprochement was part of the Esquipulas process. After an interruption of more than two years, President Duarte proposed reopening the dialogue with the FMLN on the condition that the Sandinistas begin negotiating with the contras. The Contadora process was showing signs of fatigue, and the Arias plan-the forerunner of the Esquipulas peace accord-was on the table. On May 28, 1987, the insurgents announced a new proposal that President Duarte accepted, but the negotiations did not resume until October 4 (after the Esquipulas agreement had been signed). Protected by the commitment taken at Esquipulas and by a huge international presence, the most prominent guerrilla leaders traveled to San Salvador and met the government representatives at the Vatican's embassy. The gap between the negotiating positions was enormous. For the government, the Esquipulas mandate meant the negotiations amounted to nothing more than finding a method of incorporating the guerrillas into the regime. For the insurgents, who had abandoned the idea of power sharing, the negotiations mainly concerned the institution of a new socioeconomic pact. The main obstacle, however, was not at the negotiating table because the domestic context had not changed in a meaningful way. The armed sector of each coalition still believed a military victory by its side was possible, and the main objective of the business community was to dislodge the Christian Democrats from their control of economic policy. Municipal and legislative elections were scheduled for March 1988, and the polls showed widespread dissatisfaction with the Christian Democrats. The negotiations were canceled only a few weeks into their resumption following the assassination of Herbert Anaya, a prominent human rights activist, in October 1987. Leaders on both sides were insufficiently aware of changes in the field. However, these changes proved to be significant in the resolution of the conflict. Let us remember that the Esquipulas agreement resulted not only in the insurgent leaders' being able to return but also in the repatriation of most of the peasants who had sought refuge in the bordering countries, especially in Honduras. Their insistence on their right to return to their places of origin, and UNHCR willingness to support their demands while working with a wide range of local and international NGOs that accompanied them, were important elements in building bridges. Very soon, the role of the external actors as confidence builders was felt in the countryside, and the presence of outsiders was crucial to the expansion of humanitarian space. 4 UN collaboration with local and international NGOs that were working with the local population was an international presence that in zones close to combat served more often than not as a shield for civilians from

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the counterinsurgent tactics favored by the government forces. Most of the experience acquired during these years would be formalized by the International Conference on Refugees in Central America (CIREFCA), which emerged in May 1989 as a forum for debate and negotiation among local and external governments, NGOs, and intergovernmental organizations (IGOs) on issues concerning reconstruction measures and long-range development. One of the most important results of this interaction was the definition of a "CIREFCA population," which encompassed more than just refugees and repatriates. This population also included the displaced, the demobilized, and the residents of communities with significant numbers of displaced and demobilized people. This expanded notion of beneficiaries would eventually be used in other areas and was, in any case, essential in avoiding unnecessary animosities among victims. In January 1989, two months before the Salvadoran presidential elections, the prominent businessman Alfredo Cristiani was clearly leading in the polls. In this environment, the FMLN issued a new blueprint for negotiations. It would accept the existence of the military on the conditions that the military's size was reduced, officers responsible for human rights abuses were punished, and the police force was placed under civilian control. The FMLN would accept the legitimacy of an electoral outcome, thereby recognizing the 1983 Constitution, under the condition that the elections would be postponed for six months so the FMLN could organize politically. In spite of intense international pressure, President Duarte rejected the offer. Neither the armed forces nor the leadership of the National Republican Alliance (ARENA) would agree to postpone the election day. As expected, Cristiani was elected. In June 1989, during his inauguration, Cristiani for the first time referred to the civil war as the main problem of his country and acknowledged that the rebel army was not a band of terrorists but a powerful military force. In this way, the new president responded indirectly to the FMLN offer to recognize his regime. He offered to send representatives to Mexico a few months later to meet with a delegation of the FMLN. The UN Secretary-General was invited to observe the procedures, and Javier Perez de Cuellar responded by sending Alvaro de Soto as his personal representative. Following a terrorist attack at the headquarters of the National Federation of Salvadoran Workers, the newly arranged monthly meetings were interrupted. Violence escalated rapidly. The FMLN attacks intensified and culminated in November 1989 with the San Salvador offensive. The rebels' capacity to bring the war to the capital's doorstep clearly showed that they were far from being the defeated force, as was claimed by the government's armed forces. As a result, the government realized that negotiations would have to proceed on two fronts: the means of incorporating the rebels into the existing political structures and also the road to establishing a more democratic polity. The guerrillas paid a price for using civilians as human shields during the offensive. The actions of the military were criticized even more severely,

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however, since it was held responsible for indiscriminately attacking the poor outskirts of the capital. Its worst miscalculation was the assassination of six Jesuit priests, who were faculty members at the prestigious Central American University, and their cook and her daughter. The main suspects were members of the U.S.-trained special forces, a particularly alarming indictment of the ability ofthe military to abide by the rule of law. In spite of deep distrust from all quarters, which was revived by the escalation of violence, both sides were aware of the dramatic changes taking place at the international level and of their diminishing external support, and they decided to reactivate the negotiation process. During the San Isidro Coronado Summit in December 1989, the Central American presidents, including Nicaragua's Daniel Ortega, had backed their Salvadoran counterpart and implicitly condemned the FMLN. Because of this stand, the Salvadoran insurgents considered the Esquipulas process (and Costa Rican president Oscar Arias) to be biased against them and therefore unfit for a mediation role in the Salvadoran conflict. The FMLN requested enhanced participation by the UN SecretaryGeneral. De Soto' s mission on behalf of Perez de Cuellar was upgraded from good offices to mediation. Although the negotiations would not have been possible without the changes in attitudes of local actors and the shifting of forces within and between the transnational coalitions, the presence of the UN mediator proved extremely valuable in resolving the numerous thorny issues. On April4, 1990, the first accord was reached in Geneva when both parties pledged not to unilaterally leave the negotiating table. The two sides agreed upon an agenda for negotiation at a subsequent meeting in Caracas from May 16 to May 21. A third gathering was held in Oaxtepec the next month, with no visible results. A fourth was held in San Jose, Costa Rica, from July 20 to July 26, 1990, where the process seemed deadlocked over the issue of restructuring the armed forces. However, at the last moment de Soto was able to extract a deal-which seemed relatively unimportant at the time-on the issue of human rights. The United Nations was assigned the work of verification, to begin presumably after a cease-fire was reached. Unfortunately, the negotiations stalled again. Nevertheless, on May 20, 1991, the Security Council unanimously adopted a resolution creating the UN Observer Mission in El Salvador (ONUSAL) in order to verify compliance with the agreements that were reached between the Salvadoran government and the FMLN, beginning with the Human Rights accord of July 1990. Despite the ongoing hostilities, the Secretary-General conferred with both sides and agreed in July 1991 to open a small mission of UN human rights observers. The mission had a wide range of responsibilities (for example, investigating alleged abuses and making recommendations on domestic policy) and would report directly to him. In the meantime, direct negotiations had resumed in Mexico during April 1991. At this stage, the issue of the constitutional reforms was critical. Considerable progress had already been made on the human rights issue; first was the San Jose agreement concerning monitoring and during this round was the

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creation of the Truth Commission. Except for the cease-fire, which was a more technical matter, legal reforms were indispensable in order to implement agreements on all of the other important issues: electoral and judicial reforms, the place of the armed forces in the legal framework of the state, and the size and composition of the military. Under Salvadoran law, constitutional amendments must be voted by two consecutive legislatures, so all concerned parties were aware of the importance of the April 30 deadline since a new legislature would begin its term on May 1. An accord was reached on April 27 and was sent immediately to theNational Assembly for discussion . In spite of threats (during the Mexico talks, death threats against those who planned to vote for the constitutional reforms had been published in the leading newspapers, and conservative groups had labeled President Cristiani a traitor to the motherland), the outgoing legislature voted in favor of most of the agreements without meaningful modifications. The only exceptions were those concerning the Electoral Tribunal (TSE), in which the legislature deleted provisions that would have allowed the left's participation. The next day, under heavy pressure from U.S. diplomats and UN officials monitoring the peace talks, a special session was called for the representatives to "reconsider" those decisions, which they did. 5 At Caraballeda, where the next round of talks took place from May 26 to June 2, 1991, the negotiations stalled once more on the issue of the reform of the armed forces, despite a more flexible position by the FMLN delegation concerning the cease-fire. During these final stages of the negotiation, when UN mediation efforts were insufficient, it was necessary to resort to extra pressure by the governments of the group of countries known as the four "friends of the Secretary-Generalfor El Salvador''-Spain, Venezuela, Colombia, and Mexicoplus the United States. The two final rounds of talks were held in New York under this arrangement. In September 1991, agreements on political matters were reached through the creation of a National Commission for the Consolidation of Peace (COPAZ). Representatives of political parties participated along with two governmental representatives-one civilian and one military-and two FMLN delegates. A social and economic negotiation forum was convened, and provisions were made for land transfers in conflict zones. The issue of the restructuring of the armed forces was still a stumbling block, but two important accords had been reached on that account. The fust agreement created an ad hoc commission to investigate the conduct of Salvadoran officers, with the authority to recommend dismissals based on its findings; the second called for international cooperation on the immediate creation of a pluralistic civilian police force. The parties had agreed to reformulate the agenda for this stage following a series of partial agreements made possible on the basis of working papers prepared by the UN intermediary. Finally, thanks to the good offices of the ''four friends plus one" during the next New York meeting held in December, a ceasefire agreement was reached a few hours before Perez de Cuellar's mandate

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expired. Undecided issues included the calendar for the implementation of the entire set of agreements and, more important, the methods for demilitarizing the FMLN and receiving its members as full Salvadoran citizens. The parties agreed that if they could not reach an accord by January 10, 1992, they would accept a formula the Secretary-General would devise by January 14. No more delays were to be allowed. The successful conclusions of the negotiations were possible thanks to the synergy produced by a series of concurrent processes: internationally, the end of the Cold War; politically, the emergence among Salvadorans of a core group that viewed negotiations as the only viable option to end the war; and operationally, the technical expertise brokered or directly provided by the United Nations that helped translate the political will to make the concessions into working compromises that could be carried out on the ground.

ONUSAL Peacekeeping: From the Separation of Forces to the Problems of Governance At its peak, ONUSAL was composed of five divisions: the Human Rights Division (51 observers and legal advisers and 14 police); the Military Division (during the separation of forces stage there were 319 military observers, but by January 1994 very few remained); the Police Division (360 police observers, 14 of these in the Human Rights Division); the Electoral Division (30 observers during most of the campaign, up to more than 902 monitoring the elections); and a small Socio-Economic Division (experts overseeing issues concerning land distribution, housing, and educational matters). Although the cease-fire started officially on February 1, 1992, no armed clashes were reported after the signing of the Chapultepec accord on January 16. This made it possible for both sides to concentrate their forces at the previously determined sites by the agreed dateline of March 2. The purely logistical problems presented by the demobilization of the FMLN forces were many, including distribution of emergency aid, creation of identification cards, and implementation of training programs for the excombatants to ease their transition into civilian life. But beyond the difficulties inherent in the administration of such a large operation, mistrust and resentment caused by twelve years of war worsened the friction. Nevertheless, the process of demobilizing and returning to civilian life proceeded, and, according to the general perception, the abuses and omissions accountable by sides could not be considered more than minor violations of the spirit of Chapultepec. To everyone's satisfaction, no major cease-fire violations occurred. Numerous hindrances slowed the disarmament and demobilization operations. Even so, ONUSAL military observers declared on December 15, 1992-two and a half months late, according to the initial timetable-that the process had

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been completed successfully. Because so few sophisticated arms had been destroyed, many doubted that the FMLN had discarded all of its weapons. These suspicions were confirmed five months later when a secret weapons depot exploded in Managua. The entire peacekeeping operation, which was based on trust, was in jeopardy. The FMLN paid a high price for its duplicity and tried to mend fences by helping ONUSAL make new inventories of arms, including the great majority of weapons caches in Managua and in Honduras, near the Nicaraguan border. On August 30, 1992, the Secretary-General informed the Security Council that the FMLN had finally been disarmed. This concluded the episode, considered by many to be the major crisis of the peace process. The main obstacle to the demobilization, one that remains largely unresolved to the present, involved delays in the distribution of land to the demobilized. This should not come as a surprise since the land issue was at the heart of the internal conflict in the first place. The inventory oflands and the selection of the beneficiaries turned out to be much more complicated than was initially expected. The FMLN was to disarm by one-fifth of the organization at a time between May 1 and October 31, 1992. The government was to start transferring land ownership, beginning with government lands and then with those lands that were in excess of the maximum 245 hectares allowed by the constitution, between February and May. By July 14, 1992, all property titles in the former conflict zones were to have been granted. But neither side adhered to the deadlines because they mistrusted one another. The FMLN leaders avoided publicizing lists with the names of ex-combatants and sympathizers out of fear of reprisals from the armed forces or, worse, from the death squads. They did not fully trust ONUSAL's capacity to guarantee the safety of their people. On the other hand, the government and the Salvadoran military disbelieved theFMLN' s word and had serious doubts about ONUSAL's impartiality. The other reason for the delays was the market. Since the end of hostilities had dramatically increased the value of rural properties, in particular of those in and around conflict zones, the owners refused to sell them to the government at the prices set for expropriation. In this atmosphere of suspicion, the demobilization in stages provided leverage to the FMLN, as its leaders threatened to stop the process each time problems arose. By September, no land had been distributed, and the FMLN refused to demobilize the third one-fifth of its troops. In order to overcome the impasse, ONUSAL went far beyond its mandate to advance a new proposal for land distribution that was accepted by both parties and that, albeit with delays, has been carried out. The proposal had three phases. The first was the distribution of 53,000 hectares the government obtained through expropriating farms larger than 245 hectares and from purchases by the Land Bank (Banco de Tierras) with funds from the United States Agency for International Development (US AID). This phase was fulfilled by January 1993, and 7,500 ex-combatants of the FMLN were the beneficiaries. The second phase, which should have ended by April 1993, foresaw the distribution of 14,000 more hectares to 4,000 families of

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people demobilized from the FMLN and the armed forces. The financing of this phase has been granted by the European Union. 6 Even though programs designed to aid those who were demobilized often have been postponed and have turned out to be less generous than the excombatants expected, it is clear that the problems of demobilization far exceed those concerning humanitarian aid, training, or the distribution of lands. How does society give these men, women, and children who have spent years living with violence the necessary tools to lead a productive life? The integration of these people into civil society is, in the final analysis, a fundamental problem of governance that will take many years to be solved, if it ever is. In addition to land ownership, the other root cause of the Salvadoran conflict was the militarization of political life. It is no wonder that the restructuring of the Salvadoran armed forces was one of the most difficult issues for the negotiators. Nonetheless, after long talks, several agreements were reached. First, the armed forces were to be reduced by half. Once forces had been downsized, the high command was to hand over the intelligence apparatus to civilian authorities; dissolve the security divisions, National Guard, Treasury Police, and National Police; and dissolve the Quick Reaction Infantry Battalions elite divisions in the counterinsurgency war. As agreed, the troops that were not going to be dismissed could be relocated in other units. Following a familiar pattern of noncompliance, the High Command created two new institutions that were not foreseen by the accords: the border guard and the military police, with about 2,000 troops between them. The newly created corps were considered a violation of the accords, and an agreement on the issue had to be brokered. After a round of dialogue facilitated by UN Under-Secretary-General Marrack Goulding, the military agreed to dissolve the border guard, and the FMLN accepted the continued existence of the military police. 7 The Salvadoran military had been able to guarantee its rule by its firm grip on internal security. One of the key provisions of the peace accords was that public security would be performed by a new National Civilian Police (PNC), assigned to the Ministry of the Interior and Public Security under civilian authority. Those who had been demobilized from both the FMLN and the armed forces were admissible to the PNC in equal numbers on the condition that they underwent a different type of training provided at the new National Academy for Public Security, which would be under civilian responsibility. The ONUSAL police division played a decisive role in this area as a guarantor of the transition. Under the agreements, its main role was to ensure the propriety of National Police activities and to help assure public order in the former conflict zones while the PNC still operated. Not surprisingly, the PNC deployment has suffered numerous delays and was not deployed by October 31, 1994, as planned. Unfortunately, ONUSAL's police division verification has tended to become more random as time goes by; meanwhile, the Salvadoran authorities have been trying to sustain the life of the preexisting national police. Much of the criticism of the army came as a result of the old pattern of human

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rights violations, a preoccupation of the FMLN. Two commissions were created to investigate past excesses: the ad hoc commission and the Truth Commission. The purpose of the Truth Commission was to establish general responsibilities for abuses of the civilian population during the war. Both commissions submitted their reports as scheduled. 8 The results of the investigations were devastating for the high-ranking officers. The intervention of Alvaro de Soto and his UN colleague, Under-Secretary-General Marrack Goulding, kept the process from collapsing, even though the dates for implementing the recommendations had to be postponed from October to December. It required the combined pressure of the UN Secretary-General, the U.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the U.S. Congress-which threatened to cut economic aid-to convince President Cristiani that it was in his interest to proceed with the purge. The highest-ranking officers ofthe armed forces were finally discharged on July 2, 1993, nine months later than scheduled. ONUSAL has been the most active arm of the United Nations in the continuing political resolution of the Salvadoran crisis. It has brokered new agreements because of omissions in the accords, reworked provisions already agreed upon, and interpreted obscure phrasings. However, other UN organizations have also had to adapt to the many unforeseen situations that have arisen in postwar El Salvador. The United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) was put in charge of logistics for the FMLN troops that had been in camps and was, therefore, instrumental during the first stages of demobilization. UNDP played a major role later as a mediator in recurring disputes that arose between the FMLN representatives and the National Reconstruction secretariat concerning aid to the demobilized. The issue of"police development," however, became too politicized for UNDP to handle. The development agency continued to channel funds but delegated to ONUSAL the more political aspects-mainly those requiring partial agreements along the way, such as the deployment of the PNC, demobilization of the PN, and the overall observation. UNHCR's participation in CIREFCA and the broadening of the definition of beneficiaries have already been mentioned. The definition of the population considered to be beneficiaries was expanded. With financing from USAID and UNDP, UNHCR set up a Documentation Project (PRODOC) in direct cooperation with the Salvadoran Institute of Municipal Development and the national association oflocal governments. PRODOC functioned under this arrangement from July 1992 until June 1993, when the Tribunal Supremo Electoral, or Electoral Tribunal, joined the effort and began its voter registration campaign.

The 1994 Elections and Beyond The variety of roles performed by the United Nations was tested again in the 1994 campaign. As expected, human rights monitoring became more prominent as the electoral campaign advanced. The attacks against political figures

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multiplied, particularly against those affiliated with parties and groups on the left. After initially resisting the idea of forming an international commission to investigate the murders, President Cristiani agreed to a Tripartite Commission that included representatives of the government, FMLN, and ONUSAL to determine the circumstances of each case. The commission concluded that although some of the murders were political, others were the acts of common criminals. 9 The other problematic issue, less evident at the beginning of the campaign but crucial in the long run, was voter registration. ONUSAL played an important role by collaborating with UNHCR's PRODOC and also by giving logistical support to the Electoral Tribunal's effort to update electoral records. Still, by early March 1994, 78,113 people had not been able to present a birth certificate, and 58,968 requests had technical problems and could not be processed. Another 265,210 requests had been processed, but people had not been issued credentials since everyone had to come to the municipal offices to have their credentials produced. Although credentials were handed out until the last Friday before the elections in March 1994, the main problem with the ballot, according to most international observers monitoring the vote, concerned the electoral registry and the lack of credentials. However, all agreed on the validity of the process as a whole. 10 In parliamentary and municipal elections, ARENA won 206 of 262 town councils and, with 39 elected legislators, came close to a majority on the National Assembly. Armando Calderon Sol, ARENA's candidate, won 49.2 percent of the vote, and Ruben Zamora, the left coalition candidate, tallied 24.9 percent. Since none of the candidates reached the required 50 percent, a second round of elections was held on Sunday, April24. As expected, Calderon Sol was elected this time with a solid majority of the votes. The main losers in the 1994 election were, of all people, the electoral magistrates, who suffered because of the way the TSE handled the entire process. Technical deficiencies were widespread, but, worst of all, the system was anything but "user friendly," to quote an expression used by an international observer. In addition to the very complicated system used to register voters, there was little transportation and few voting stations were available on election day. This meant that more often than not people had to walk long distances and stand in line for many hours before voting-assuming that everything went right at the voting table, which, as has been stated officially, was not the case. The result was a high percentage of abstentions from voting. The way the TSE is organized helps explain its inefficiencies. It prevents its members from assuming their technical roles. Worse, the Electoral Tribunal has become a very politicized institution in which political parties often act out their differences. During most of the campaign, an Advisory Commission that included ONUSAL' s Electoral Division, UNDP officials, and USAID personnel worked very closely with the TSE and with a Technical Advisory Group from the Interamerican Institute for Human Rights' Electoral Center (CAPEL) in

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giving advice to the TSE. Three months before the elections, it was clear to most of the members of the commission that problems lay on the horizon. However, the general perception was that the Salvadoran authorities were not enthusiastic about following external advice and ultimately only they had the legal right to determine electoral procedures. The direct participation of the international community in the mechanics of a national election raises important and unsolved theoretical questions regarding sovereignty and its limits. The right of the international community to intervene in a sovereign state on behalf of democracy and human rights, and the issue of its impartiality between warring factions during civil wars, was affirmed throughout the Salvadoran process, but both topics warrant continued discussion within the international community.

Conclusion What lessons can we gather from the Salvadoran experience? The first is the importance of the international presence. With all its shortcomings, the weight the international community brought to bear on ending the conflict in El Salvador was considerable and very influential, and the UN' s role was a determining factor. Politically, the end of the Cold War had an immediate impact on the ideologically polarized Salvadoran conflict. On a more regional plane, both warring parties clearly realized that the demise of the Sandinista regime in Nicaragua and Washington's reluctance to continue financing the corrupt Salvadoran armed forces proved that time was running out. With these changes taking place, there was no better alternative than negotiations. Operationally, some progress was made on the dialogue within the Esquipulas agreement framework, but there was still a long way to go once the political will to negotiate an accord to end the civil war had surfaced. Negotiations require concessions from all quarters. The process was difficult since after pledging their commitment to achieving a peaceful settlement, both sides tried to yield as little as possible. There would not have been a political solution had the United Nations peacemaking know-how not been present. The FMLN lost the contest for control over the state and had to accept playing by the rules-albeit modified-of the regime it had fought for more than a decade. The armed forces had to forfeit control of the state and accept the preeminence of universal suffrage and the legality of civilian control. The traditional elites could no longer unilaterally decide the destiny of the society and had to accept the need to compromise in order to maintain their dominance. The main concession came from the FMLN when it surrendered its military might, but most concessions were made by the government. More often than not, the weight of the four friends plus one was needed to assure compliance with the Chapultepec accord and, more important, with the democratization process the accord underwrites.

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The sectors of Salvadoran society that are most wary of democratic institutions and procedures have distrusted the partiality and competence of the international community, particularly ONUSAL. They claim ONUSAL shows favoritism toward the "other" side (e.g., the communists or the plebs) and that it is impossible for external actors to understand Salvadoran political dynamics. Since ONUSAL's capability to ensure its mandate is based solely on goodwill, this reluctance has impeded fulfillment of the international organization's mission, particularly in the more political stages. Maintaining the rigid distinction between verification and enforcement has proven difficult. Despite numerous inconveniences, however, the division of labor among the four friends plus one in arbitration, ONUSAL in political mediation, and the specialized agencies in technical areas usually worked reasonably well. However, the faction between technical and political areas occasionally proved difficult to maintain. Equally trying, although fruitful, were the attempted efforts at collaboration between the international agencies and the NGO community. In spite of the good intentions displayed by the newly elected authorities, political violence still claims victims, and the principal impediments to peacethose that triggered violence in the first place-remain largely unchanged. Widespread illiteracy, malnutrition, unemployment, and poverty remain. ONUSAL's mandate was scheduled to expire in July 1994, after the presidential inauguration. However, because of the many difficulties encountered in the implementation of the peace accords, the UN Secretary-General has postponed its expiration until April 1995. Of particular concern were the deployment of the PNC and the maintenance of public order, as well as the recommendations of the Truth Commission regarding the judiciary. It is unclear if there has finally emerged, after twelve years of war and two years of peace, a consolidated commitment of the different forces in El Salvador to democratic development. For the Salvadoran people, we hope so.

Notes I. In his work "The Internationalization of the Central American Crisis," Wolf Grabendorff also refers to three "political alliances among the different international actors." He refers to a status quo alliance, a social change alliance, and a revolutionary change alliance. These groupings roughly correspond to the three I have referred to as conservative, centrist or liberal, and radical or revolutionary. See Wolf Grabendorff, Heinrich W. Krumwiede, and Jorg Todt (eds.), Political Change in Central America: Internal and External Dimensions (Boulder: Westview Press, 1984), 167. 2. In August 1981, the Mexican and French governments accepted the Farabundo Marti National Liberation Front (Frente Farabundo Marti para la Liberacion NacionalFMLN) and the Democratic Revolutionary Front (Frente Democnitico RevolucionarioFDR) as politically legitimate and representative. This declaration, formulated just a few weeks before the General Assembly, became-to Washington's profound displeasureone of the assembly's main topics of discussion. 3. There are conflicting versions as to who were the actual creators of the plan.

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According to Central American sources, the plan was drafted by the region's foreign ministries personnel, namely Mauricio Herdocia from Nicaragua, Melvin Saenz from Costa Rica, Benjamin Gonzlilez from El Salvador, Francisco Arenales from Guatemala, and Roberto Flores from Honduras. Jack Child mentions a more important UN role in drafting the plans. See Jack Child, The Central American Peace Process, 1983-1991: Sheathing Swords, Building Confidence (Boulder: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1992), 66. 4. See Cristina Eguizabal, David Lewis, Larry Minear, Peter Sollis, and Thomas Weiss, Humanitarian Challenges in Central America: Learning the Lessons of Recent Armed Conflicts, Occasional Paper #14 (Providence: Thomas J. Watson Jr. Institute for International Studies, 1993). 5. As approved Monday, Apri129, the members of the new electoral court were to include three members from the top three political parties: ARENA, National Conciliation (the official party of the military regimes), and the Christian Democrats. Two more members were to be chosen by the Supreme Court, which was. dominated by the conservatives. Under the modifications approved in the extraordinary meeting, four of the members are to be representatives of the political parties (from the top four parties in the 1989 presidential election, which included the Democratic Convergence). The fifth member, who is to be politically independent, will be nominated by the Supreme Court and elected by a two-thirds majority of the legislature. 6. For the third phase, an additional 98,000 hectares are required to accommodate the needs of more than 28,000 families, at an estimated cost of $85 million, which is not yet available. See George Vickers and Jack Spence et al., Endgame: A Progress Report on Implementation ofthe Salvadoran Peace Accords (Cambridge: Hemisphere Initiatives, December 1992), 22. 7. Many observers of the Salvadoran processes believe the Border Guard and the Military Police are just new names for the National Police and the Treasury Police, respectively. Ibid., 12. 8. The ad hoc commission was formed by three Salvadorans from different parties: Abraham Rodriguez (Christian Democrat), Reynaldo Galindo Pohl (independent), and Eduardo Molina Oliva (Social Democrat). Of the 2,300 officers in active duty, only the behavior of the top 10 percent was researched, for a total of 232 high-ranking officers. The Truth Commission was formed by three foreigners-Reynaldo Figueredo (Venezuelan), Belisario Betancur(Colombian), and Richard Burgenthal (U.S. citizen)and staffed by UN personnel. Its well-publicized report was a best seller in El Salvador. 9. The fmal investigative team did not include a FMLN representative. Instead there were the Human Rights Ombudsman, two lawyers representing the government, and the director ofONUSAL' s Human Rights Division. In the Joint Group's final report, which was made public on July 28, 1994, after President Cristiani had left office, it was stated cautiously that the paramilitary death squads still remained but had become more decentralized and were involved increasingly in organized crime. 10. Even though an estimated 300,000 potential voters were not issued voting cards, and many of those whose names were on the voting lists were out of the country or deceased, such as Napoleon Duarte or Roberto d' Aubuisson, the elections were given ONUSAL's seal of approval.

• Part 4 • A Look Toward The Future

• II • The United Nations and Civil Wars at the Dawn of the Twenty-First Century THOMAS G. WEISS

Several lessons emerge from ethnonationalism in the Third World and the former Second World, the nature of the UN's evolving multifunctional operations, 1 and the four case studies. They must be tentative because of our proximity to actual events, which evolve daily. Whereas the danger of policy prescriptions under such circumstances is evident, the risk in not trying is more perilous on a planet on which one person in 130 is displaced by war and on which the major power refuses to exercise leadership. Before I focus on the precise implications of Washington's present lack of leadership for UN action in civil wars, I describe nine conceptual signposts that assist us in deciphering the multilateral road map for civil wars in the post-Cold War era. Although overly facile and partially based on a desire to avoid global responsibilities, "compassion fatigue" is present in Washington and every other Western capital. Domestic political constraints are palpable. Recessionary and budgetary requirements directly conflict with the need for outside help in what seems like a never-ending series of crises around the world. I have argued elsewhere that triage, the French term to describe the wrenching process of selecting who receives aid and who does not, is the foremost policy challenge in the immediate future. 3 Not only are financial pressures in Western parliaments at loggerheads with mushrooming problems, but also a world organization that has a universal mandate and membership and a global operational network means that every crisis is on the UN agenda. Tough decisions must be made during this crisis or crises, just as the surgeon on the battlefield must make difficult decisions. We must begin to select the most effective UN actions in civil wars at the dawn of the twenty-first century: who needs no help, who cannot be helped, and who can and must be helped.

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The Third and Former Second Worlds Until recently, armed conflict and the UN's role as conflict manager were supposed to be Third World phenomena, but no longer. There are, by the most conservative estimates, at least 1 million refugees from the former Yugoslavia and three times as many internally displaced persons within the boundaries of that former Balkan republic. Four million of its citizens depend on international aid for their daily survival. Several former Soviet republics are not far behind. In fact, nine of fifty-three members of the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) are involved in shooting wars within their boundaries. For instance, about 1 million persons have been displaced by clashes between Armenians and Azerbaijanis, and about one-quarter of Tajikistan's 5 million people are displaced. The Third World and former Second World describe the locations of ongoing armed conflicts in Africa, Asia, Latin America, and the former Soviet bloc. Although analysts debate whether these categorizations are relevant, both categories are composed of states that lack power and are marginal to the global economy. But the distinction between third and former second has little significance in determining the precise composition of UN responses to civil wars within the boundaries of countries that are so categorized, except when Russia wishes to be consulted or directly involved. In the former Yugoslavia, for example, it was more necessary than in Somalia, Cambodia, or El Salvador to ensure Russian approval for Western decisions about military responses through the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO). And Russian troops were used in Pale as part of the international showdown over Sarajevo. Within the "near abroad," as the Russians call the former Soviet Union, Moscow may be the only plausible intervenor to help keep the lid on the cauldron of seething tensions and violence. Beginning in 1993, Russia made overtures for a UN blessing and finances to arbitrate disputes in the former Soviet Union, which amounted to dressing up traditional Russian hegemony in the guise of Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) peacekeeping. 4 The UN Secretary-General informed Moscow clearly in April1994 that Russia could not receive a UN imprimatur for what it wanted to do. But what, in fact, was the alternative in light of the UN's overstretch and Russia's geopolitical interest in stability in the new states contiguous to it within which 25 million ethnic Russians live? Whatever the perceived shortcomings in April, the Russian request and others were quickly viewed differently. Although the countries were not those covered by the case studies in this book, between late June and late July 1994 the Security Council approved three decisions relating to civil wars that are directly pertinent to this discussion. The decisions indicated the growing acceptance of the idea of military intervention by major powers in regions of their interest: a Russian scheme to deploy its troops in Georgia to end the three-year-old civil war, the French intervention in Rwanda to help stave three months of genocidal

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conflict, and the U.S. plan to spearhead a military force to reverse the military coup in Haiti. Charles William Maynes has argued that big powers inevitably flex their muscles but that they do not necessarily subject themselves to international scrutiny or to an accountability for their actions. His proposal to move forward with "benign realpolitik" straightforwardly recognizes the desirability of moving toward this reality, which amounts to a revival of spheres of influence, albeit with UN oversight.5 Although he later dubbed the concept "benign spheres of accountability," it is not so much regional institutions but regional powers that count. In endorsing requests from Russia, France, and the United States to take matters into their own hands, the Security Council seemed to be experimenting with a novel type of great power politics the United Nations had originally been founded to end.

International Actions in Civil Versus Interstate Wars The removal of East-West tensions coincided with the beginning of a period of growing intrastate violence, a brutal expression of historical grievances and ethnonationalism. Whether this amounts to what Robert Kaplan has popularized as "the coming anarchy,''6 civil wars on this scale were hardly imagined by the framers of the UN Charter. And the world organization, in the words of Adam Roberts, "was not designed to cope with the problem of communal conflict with which it is now confronted in so many countries." 7 Intra rather than interstate wars now constitute virtually all armed conflicts, claiming more than 1,000 lives per year. 8 More analysts ask whether the search for order will become futile as self-determination goes to logical extremes.9 Much international law regulates the conduct of armed conflicts among states, but a weaker body governs the conduct of internal wars and domestic violence. For the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), which is the custodian of the relevant conventions, the distinction between international and noninternational armed conflicts-which other observers label interstate and civil wars-makes a distinct operational difference. 10 For other actors at the center or on the periphery of UN multifunctional operations, however, the classification between the two types of wars has an ever diminishing significance. States wishing to avoid commitments sometimes hide behind the rationalization about a firm legal distinction, as do those hoping to avoid outside intervention in their domestic repression. Yet the distinction between international and civil wars rings hollow for several reasons. First, civil war never remains a purely local affair but quickly spills across borders. Supplies of arms as well as diplomatic support to one of the parties emanate from outside a state's borders. Moreover, massive flows of refugees and economic disruption of entire regions are commonplace with any civil war. Some evidence even suggests that efforts to split juridical hairs and to

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determine how much a violent conflict was international, which more easily permitted outside involvement, or internal, which made international engagement more problematic, appear to have accounted for needless delays. The international response to various phases of crises in the former Yugoslaviaincluding European recognition of new states without guarantees for minorities or efforts to determine the extent of Serbian support from the rump ofYugoslavia to Bosnian Serbs-is an apt illustration. Intervention was never unlawful in itself; but the taboo against intervention, once considered the logical corollary of territorial sovereignty, was the unquestioned basis for both interstate relations and the UN Charter. In the aftermath of the Cold War, we are moving in fits and starts away from the idea that state sovereignty serves as an all-purpose rationalization for narrowly defined national interests and lurching toward a world in which states are more accountable for their actions, inside or outside of their borders. In short, sovereignty is no longer a safe diplomatic sanctuary when aberrant abuses of civilians occur. 11 In a sense, there is less analytical significance now than in past classifications of civil versus interstate wars. At the same time, the nature of civil wars complicates UN action for several reasons. There are frequently many warring parties rather than just two. The most absurd extreme may be Mogadishu and "Somaliazation," which have replaced Beirut and "Lebanonization" as the most unpleasant duty station and the worst epithet in politics. But Cambodia had four belligerents, and the Bosnia and Herzegovina conflict has three main combatants within the divided country and at least two (Croatia and Serbia) outside. This means, of course, that negotiations are more complicated and unpredictable. Once agreement is reached with central authorities, there is no guarantee that numerous dissident groups in the field will respect such an accord. As a result, there is limited relevance in civil wars for the rational actor model that characterizes much analysis of international conflict management and diplomacy.

Fragmentation The two most essential norms of the post-World War II period have disappeared. No longer are internationally agreed borders sacrosanct, nor is secession unthinkable. The appearance of almost twenty states since the breakup of the former Yugoslavia and the former Soviet Union is the most obvious manifestation of this significant alteration in the ground rules that govern world politics. There has been much discussion about "failed states," 12 including the necessity for the United Nations to assume temporary trusteeship for such states. The most extreme proposals have even called for the recolonization of those countries that "are just not fit to govern themselves." 13 Whatever the superficial attractiveness of such arguments and the past experience of the United Nations in Palestine and Namibia and more recently in Cambodia, there is as yet scant

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evidence that the world organization would be permitted to become deeply involved in substituting itself for state authority. As to the movement toward larger units-that is, an extension of the model of the European Union-to help end civil wars, there is no evidence at all. Since the end of the Cold War, only two states have been created from the fusion of smaller states--Germany and Yemen-and one of these was actively embroiled in a civil war in mid-1994. To understand the ever increasing fragmentation and the growing number of civil wars, however, it is important to realize just how close we are to events. In contextualizing developments, it is wise to tone down draconian extrapolations or conclusions. Only three years separate the bullish euphoria that guaranteed the survival of the Kurds in northern Iraq and the utter cynicism that ignored Rwanda's tragedy in April1994.

"Success" and "Failure" One of the problems in evaluating the UN multifunctional operations is the ambiguity of success and failure, as well as the time frame used to measure the durability of results. Were efforts in the former Yugoslavia successful because they saved lives and avoided a wider conflict in Europe, or were they a failure because the international community has not stood up to aggression, genocide, and the forced movement of peoples? Were short-term efforts in Somalia successful because death rates dropped in 1993, or were they a longterm failure because billions of dollars were spent to stop the clock temporarily-only to witness the country revert to banditry and chaos in 1994? Were efforts in Cambodia a short-term success because Cambodians went to the polls and permitted the return of King Norodom Sihanouk, or were they a long-term failure because the Khmer Rouge remain poised to return to civil war? Were efforts in El Salvador successful because peace was negotiated and elections were held, or were they a failure because the root causes of the civil war-unequal land distribution and limited participation in decisionmakingremain? Although mandates are not always clear and various governments expect different things from UN decisions, some pertinent judgments can be made about success and failure. Policy debates in Washington and elsewhere, which are harshly critical of the United Nations, overlook the fact that the major powers approve UN resolutions that often bear little relationship to the assets they and other states make available to actually implement resolutions. The most essential benchmark to measure success would be a judicious correlation between resources and rhetoric. An obvious failure is the case of Bosnia and Herzegovina. Governments switched their rhetoric from the peaceful settlement tone of Chapter VI to the shrill enforcement tone of Chapter VII, albeit in the context of protecting personnel. However, this remained only rhetoric and lacked an accompanying

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military commitment to implement the mandate. UN forces were condemned to "wandering in the void" between peacekeeping and enforcement. 14 In January 1994, shortly before resigning from a soldier's nightmare as the UN commander in the area, Lieutenant General Francis Briquemont lamented the disparity between rhetoric and reality: "There is a fantastic gap between the resolutions of the Security Council, the will to execute those resolutions and the means available to commanders in the field." 15 The language of UN resolutions, "all measures necessary," is quintessential doublespeak. UN troops have not fought a single battle with the numerous factions in Bosnia who routinely disrupt relief convoys. Even the showdowns over Sarajevo and Gorazde illustrated how few clothes were on the NATO emperor more than they showed political and military resolve. Moreover, in such places as Somalia and Bosnia and Herzegovina, the United States and its Western allies have not systematically prepared UN operations, so that symbols dwarf effective action. John Steinbruner has commented aptly that in these situations governments are "particularly prone to crisis induced reactions chosen for their symbolic value and ease of execution rather than their decisive effect." 16 Visceral reactions seek either magical quick fixes or ad hoc measures, hoping warring parties will somehow come to their senses. Somalia and the former Yugoslavia provide compelling evidence that neither reaction is the basis for a workable military policy and that both are potentially counterproductive. Both should be characterized as failure. A second indicator in determining success or failure is to measure relative effectiveness. For example, in Cambodia the lengthy period of negotiations permitted the United Nations and its member states to prepare a reasonably complex operation. Although governments and the UN secretariat shy away from critical judgments, the United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia (UNTAC) should be held to different standards of accountability and performance than the operations--organized largely by the collective seat of the international community's pants-in the crises in Somalia or in the former Yugoslavia. In all of the recent multifaceted UN operations, however, there have been substantial and avoidable difficulties. On the military side, command and control have traditionally reflected three shortcomings that continue to plague operations. Communications have been notoriously difficult because of multiple languages, procedures, and equipment. The lack of common training for individual contingents and staff, with redundant quotas to reflect all troop contributors, exacerbated matters. Operations have suffered additionally from multiple chains of command both within a theater and between the military and civilian sides of the UN secretariat, and contingents have routinely sought guidance from capitals. Doing so little to alter these traditional problems in anew generation of operations has caused failure. Moreover, civil administrations and humanitarian organizations have been characterized by a lack of coordination among civilian components and between

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these components and the military, as well as by an inability to make the most oflimited resources. At a minimum, improved operations in the future would be characterized by more coherence among the three main components and higher standards of accountability and performance within each. At a maximum, operations would represent an effective and coherent orchestration of civil, humanitarian, and political efforts under a protective umbrella of military security. The third determining factor in measuring success or failure should be the comprehensive nature of UN inputs. Here the negative value of the Somalian experience should be contrasted with the more positive Cambodian one. The narrowness of the approach during the U.S.-led Unified Task Force, also known as Operation Restore Hope, was exemplified by Washington's unwillingness to remove heavy arms from warring factions and to remain firmly in place until the semblance of a government functioned. This narrow approach should be juxtaposed with the efforts in Cambodia after a decade of bitter internecine war. UNTAC's more comprehensive efforts-encompassing a variety of military, civilian, and humanitarian elements-meant that when one aspect of the operation was in trouble, the pursuit of others could compensate. The value of having eggs in separate baskets paved the way for what observers deem a success in the short run in spite of many individual failures (probably five of the seven baskets in the Paris Accords) in elements of the operation and of the tenuous situation in the western provinces, where the Khmer Rouge now effectively controls more territory than it did before the agreement.

Intervention Although the expression intervention makes diplomatic hairs stand on end, all of the cases under scrutiny involved far more significant outside interference in domestic affairs than was acceptable during the Cold War and than was countenanced internationally. Intervention is not a single phenomenon. 17 It is generally understood as constituting the spectrum of possible actions intended to alter internal affairs elsewhere. Intervention is also perhaps synonymous with the practice of international relations, which, by definition, consists of efforts by governments to influence the behavior of other states. Although intervention is inevitable and weak states are often unable to resist, the type of intervention that concerns us here is Chapter VII decisionmaking by the UN Security Council. The use of collective economic and military sanctions amounts to twisting and even breaking arms of recalcitrant parties that ignore international decisions. Major powers, including the United States, look toward the United Nations as the sole global institution that can legitimize or undertake intervention. Despite grumblings about big-power manipulation-perhaps because of itreducing unilateral decisions about intervention and increasing the international

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monitoring of actions by the major powers are desirable. Unequivocal precedents now provide teeth for international decisions when there is sufficient will in the community of states to bite and not just sneer. This does not preclude dissent about the growing tendency toward intervention, particularly from two groups. First, many developing countries exhibit much reluctance and some downright hostility toward UN intervention. Many cling to the outdated notion that such intervention is impermissible. Sovereignty, they claim, is their only defense against bullies. They also claim, with more justification, that intervention is a messy business. The other group wary of UN intervention is led by civilian humanitarians, who believe life-saving initiatives are by their nature consensual and that "humanitarian war" and "humanitarian intervention" are oxymorons. 18 Other critics are also likely to see the U.S. dominance of present multilateral military efforts as a continuation of the U.S. hegemony of the past. 19 Still others argue that muscular UN military forces have become part of the problem and that more traditional and impartial peacekeepers are preferable to a more forceful version.20 In this regard, Alex de Waal and Rakiya Omaar have written that "humanitarian intervention demands a different set of military skills. It is akin to counterinsurgency." 21 Paradoxically, the international community may now need to reexamine the experience of colonial armies in order to respond to the problems of failed former colonial states. The British efforts to diffuse tensions in Malaysia in the 1950s, for example, consisted of relatively small numbers of well-disciplined outside soldiers with close links to local populations and with sufficient political support in the metropole and locally to allow them to stay the course in spite of setbacks and casualties. These efforts are no doubt more relevant for future UN responses to civil wars than to Operation Desert Storm. When member states ratified the UN Charter, they agreed to acquiesce in the Security Council's own interpretation of its functions. Claims of domestic jurisdiction are irrelevant once the council weighs in; its sanction determines what is justifiable intervention. ''Threats to international peace and security" effectively comprise what Stanley Hoffmann called an "all-purpose parachute" during a conference on the subject in Olso, Norway, in June 1992. The United Nations is supposed to differ from the League of Nations because of its capacity to intervene economically and to back up international decisions militarily. Discussions about criteria and first principles would be helpful. It is indisputable that international "society" should be as broadly representative as possible of state and nonstate views. 22 Also desirable is more consistency and less selectivity. As such, enhanced efforts at consultation and transparency should be fostered in Security Council debates. However, there will never be unanimous views, and geopolitics will always play a role. In this regard, it is inevitable that major powers will flex their muscles to pursue their interests. It is not inevitable that they subject themselves to international oversight and law.

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This latter and hardly guaranteed development would represent a feasible step toward greater consistency and accountability. Meanwhile, the Security Council makes decisions to intervene not according to objective criteria but, rather, according to what the international political traffic will bear. Justice may be blind, but collective security and UN intervention are not. Making efforts to refine principles and criteria is laudable, but too many pleas for consistency or against selectivity amount to arguing that the United Nations should not intervene anywhere unless it can intervene everywhere. Such objections constitute either naivete or sophistry, but both justify inaction. This is a case of the perfect being the enemy of the good. However imperfect, the dangers of big-power abuse are reduced by relying on the practical system for intervention under UN auspices. Moving toward a UN monopoly in this area should help deter both the abuse of populations by political authorities and the resort to unilateral intervention.

State Centrism By definition, a state-centric focus would appear inappropriate for UN involvement in civil wars. However, the United Nations is an intergovemment organization, and its Secretary-General is the chief executive officer of an institution oriented toward making states comfortable. The obsession with war-riddled Mogadishu-the seat of the former government and no doubt the future one for whichever warlords manage to gain control of the state apparatus to the detriment of much of the rest of the country-is one operational result with major human consequences. But the UN emphasis on the state as the essential unit of analysis has more widespread ramifications. In particular, the organization-not only its member states but, less justifiably, also the political, humanitarian, and military leadership within international secretariats-has been too timid about publicly confronting the perpetrators of human rights abuses and war crimes. For instance, in spite of allusions to the erosion of sovereignty in An Agenda for Peace and in a prominent article in Foreign Affairs, Secretary-General Boutros-Ghali sets the tone. 23 He ultimately reaffirmed a conventional interpretation of sovereignty when it clashes with other international norms. Barely one year later, the Secretary-General confessed: "History is accelerating. The pace is alarming. The direction is not entirely clear."24 Upon his return from a visit to the UN operation in Somalia in October 1993, the Secretary -General appeared before the Security Council and added to the confusion: ''The United Nations cannot impose peace; the role of the United Nations is to maintain the peace."25 The United Nations is apparently no longer in the peace enforcement business, in spite of mandates overriding sovereignty in Iraq, Somalia, Haiti, and the former Yugoslavia. If there are now square brackets around Chapter VII as there were during the Cold War-that is, warring

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parties need to consent to UN military and humanitarian efforts-then this policy shift should greatly reduce the organization's overstretch. But the United Nations would then be largely absent from the moral and operational challenges of our turbulent times. There are clear implications from continuing to sustain the shibboleth of the UN Charter Article 2(7) and its emphasis on nonintervention in "matters which are essentially within the domestic jurisdiction of any state." Some policies have not been humanitarian; in this category have been decisions to prevent some civilians from leaving Sarajevo and, elsewhere, under siege in Bosnia and others from entering or leaving UN protected areas. Moreover, the conscious restriction of activities has precluded UN staff from confronting political authorities about human rights abuses as a routine part of their missions, especially in the former Yugoslavia but also in other field operations. The need to reinforce UN neutrality provides the most sanguine explanation for this behavior. The world organization's leadership wishes to sidestep confrontations with states, broker their negotiations, and be their impartial partner once cease-fires occur. The promotion of human rights, however, is a victim of misplaced evenhandedness. UN field operations have not systematically made use of informationgathering possibilities that result from having eyes and ears on the ground. Acting as if the most, and sometimes the only, essential undertaking were the delivery of relief goods, the United Nations has collectively downplayed tasks such as protecting fundamental rights and information gathering about war crimes or even assertively and routinely investigating alleged abuses. In other words, the United Nations is not yet suited for military success, but it also has not taken maximum advantage of what it can do. Although this weakness has had the most visibly serious impact in the former Yugoslavia, this case is not unique. Francis Deng, the special representative of the UN Secretary-General charged with studying the problems of internally displaced persons, has written that "action has been ad hoc and has tended to emphasize assistance. Protecting human rights has been a subsidiary consideration."26 By dealing mainly with the products of war rather than with its causes, the United Nations has ignored opportunities to document and publicly denounce some of those causes. The main exception to this has been the UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), whose staff has consistently and sometimes openly criticized abuse. Treating human rights as a nonessential luxury rather than a central element in UN operations has been labeled by Human Rights Watch as "the lost agenda."27 Significant innovations to meet human rights challenges in the former Yugoslavia have also received so little financial and political support from governments that they are subject to ridicule. 28 Innovative steps include a firstever emergency session by the UN Commission on Human Rights following the discovery of concentration camps in western Bosnia; a special rapporteur with staff to report to the Security Council on human rights abuses; a commission of

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experts to report on breaches of the Geneva Conventions; a deployment of field monitors by the UN Human Rights Centre and of human rights responsibilities for UNHCR protection officers; and, most significantly, an ad hoc international war crimes tribunal. Measures such as these have been the object of active lobbying by the human rights community over the years. But the credibility of these initiatives is being undermined because of the lack of resources and leadership. Today, ineffectiveness kills. Perhaps more important is the potential negative impact of discrediting innovative human rights devices for tomorrow's armed conflicts. Their value-not simply as moral statements but also as effective deterrentsshould not be minimized. The state is hardly obsolete, in spite of the inappropriateness of a statecentric approach to UN involvement in civil wars. The appearance of failed states, and others obviously on the brink, suggests that "inadequate stateness" may be an overriding weakness in many areas where civil war is raging. This is not nostalgia for the repressive national security state of the past. However, a minimal capacity to guarantee law and order, as well as a functioning economy, is a necessary if insufficient condition for a civil society without civil war.

Prevention Emerging from the moral choice of resorting to military force in support of humane values is the international community's desperate requirement for a new overarching concept. Such a concept would stress forestalling violence and war in addition to dealing with the consequences of both. The motivation may well be financial. As he was leaving office in early 1993, former UN UnderSecretary-General for Administration Dick Thornburgh characterized the continuing expansion ofUN peacekeeping activities as a "financial bungee jump. ' 029 Forestalling violence is clearly preferable to picking up the pieces from war or humanitarian intervention. If civil wars are more numerous and their consequences are becoming more dire, would it not be more reasonable to act earlier and head them off? A new preventive policy framework should emphasize lines drawn in the sand by troops, combined with peace building, rather than intervention in and management of conflicts after they have erupted. In short, there should be enough troops to act as a trip wire, and these should be deployed at the same time the root causes of many conflicts-poverty, the unjust distribution of available resources, and the legacy of colonial boundaries in many multiethnic societies-are addressed before they explode. Where to draw the line, particularly given shifting sands, is a crucial challenge. Governments have begun to think of such preventive actions as the symbolic deployment of UN soldiers to Macedonia and Kosovo or the expanded use of fact finding, human rights monitors, and early warning systems. Longerterm economic and social development, reforms to distribute the benefits of

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future growth more equitably, and restructured global financial and trading systems could mitigate conflict. But effective prevention today and tomorrow would also include the physical deployment of well-armed troops with contingency plans and reserve firepower for immediate retaliation in case a trip wire were engaged. This would amount to an advance authorization for a Chapter Vll riposte, not simply a hope that best-case scenarios will prevail. Otherwise, the currency of UN preventive action is devalued, if not debased, to such an extent that it should not be attempted. Empty saber rattling is as dangerous for the credibility and viability of the United Nations as it is for those of governments. It is always easier with hindsight to demonstrate that an earlier investment in prevention would have been worthwhile than is the case when experts first warn of impending disaster. The dilemma is that prevention is cost-effective in the long run but cost-intensive in the short run. However, the actual durations of the long and short run are subject to change. In the former Yugoslavia, the long run has been about two and a half years, whereas in Rwanda it was reduced rather dramatically to a matter of weeks. The notion that an earlier use of force would have been more economical in the former Yugoslavia runs into the theoretical problem of the inability of governments to look very far into the future and of the consequent ability to magnify immediate expenditures and discount future ones. In contrast, for the crisis in Rwanda, the costs of the estimated 500,000 to 700,000 dead, at least 4 million displaced persons, and a ruined economy were borne immediately by the same governments that had refused to respond militarily only a few weeks earlier. For the United States alone, the cost for the first three months of efforts was estimated at around $0.5 billion, no doubt in excess of what a robust earlier military intervention would have entailed. Except for the military's ability to plan for worst-case contingencies to defend raisons d'etat, governments and politicians rarely make anything except the most myopic calculations. Comprehensive prevention requires blunting the edges oflocal conflicts, and this requires so many resources that the most likely future scenarios involve more wars and fewer efforts to mitigate their consequences rather than more efforts to forestall violence. However, the experience in Rwanda suggests the extent to which even short-run savings from not deploying troops are miniscule in comparison with the immediate costs of caring for over 4 million displaced persons, let alone the incalculable costs of 500,000 to 700,000 deaths. At a minimum, prevention requires that the United Nations and its member states avoid legitimating ethnonationalism. The breakup of the former Yugoslavia without minority guarantees and the establishment of an international war crimes tribunal without resources to document or pursue criminals have fomented rather than attenuated ethnonationalism. Prevention appears Pollyannaish and vacuous, prompting two analysts to dub it "an idea in search of a strategy."30 But what are the alternatives? On the one hand, chaos can be spread, with accompanying policies and actions to contain the spillover. On the other hand, there can be better military intervention

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than was the case in the past. Neither is a bargain-both have moral and geopolitical consequences.

Other Actors and the UN's International Safety Net The mixture of military, civil administration, and humanitarian activities within UN operations in civil wars creates almost overwhelming problems of coordination, at headquarters and in the field. The UN Secretary-General is primus inter pares (first among equals), with an emphasis on pares, a well-known structural handicap that creates obvious problems between the UN secretariat and the autonomous main players of the UN system in civil wars (UNICEF, UNHCR, and the World Food Programme [WFP]). 31 The additional strains caused by the weak professional capacity to oversee the growing number of UN military operations exacerbate another serious and well-documented set of problems. 32 The need to strengthen the United Nations by taking advantage of the potential contributions by other actors is unusual and emerges from the civil war cases under study. In this regard, the impact of activities by nongovernmental (NGO) and regional organizations and the Washington-based financial institutions is essential. In UN operations in civil wars, NGOs have made a large contribution to the physical delivery of relief, to human rights monitoring, and to election monitoring. Given their closeness to the grassroots and their relatively low costs (on average, less than half the cost of a UN international civil servant), the United Nations should subcontract for more services from international NGOs, as has occurred in Bosnia and Herzegovina and to a lesser extent in Cambodia, Central America, and Somalia. Governments and other donors should also expand resources made available directly through private agencies, as well as incentives to make better use oflocal NGOs-if necessary, even at the expense of bilateral and intergovernmental aid programs and certainly of their traditional defense postures. NGOs are increasingly concerned, however, that the growing volume of aid for humanitarian relief is being subtracted from the stagnant public resources devoted to economic development and especially to the alleviation of poverty in poor countries. Eight donors expended more than 10 percent of their total bilateral assistance on humanitarian assistance in 1992 (the last year for which statistics are available), compared with just 2 percent as recently as five years agoY Because humanitarian emergencies routinely take place in the context of open warfare, UN or UN-blessed military forces compete with development assistance rather than with defense allocations. This situation creates more than a statistical problem. When the military is used for the delivery of humanitarian assistance, only the incremental costs are usually tabulated as overseas development assistance. The policy challenges in the West are urgent: namely, how to

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determine simultaneously the most effective mix of military and humanitarian inputs in complex emergencies, how to maintain the scarce resources donor governments presently devote to poverty alleviation, and how to downsize military spending. Regional organizations are sometimes considered to be an alternative to the United Nations. In spite of considerable rhetoric, they are not really substitutes but, rather, are complements to the United Nations. 34 Most existing regional institutions have virtually no military experience or resources. They normally also contain hegemons, whose presence complicates legitimate intervention in civil wars. Clear illustrations are seen in the regional institutions that have been unable to make a difference in Somalia-the Organization of African Unity, the Arab League, the Islamic Conference. Ill-founded reliance on Europe's regional institutions in the former Yugoslavia provides the so-called best case. Even these well-endowed regional organizations failed the test: The European Community (now European Union) and the CSCE were unable to develop a common foreign policy for recognizing independence with guarantees for minorities, and member governments within NATO and the Western European Union (WEU) dithered about possible military action. A military response to either the international aggression or the continued civil war in the former Yugoslavia would hardly have been an out-ofarea operation. However, for two years, weakness rather than resolve characterized European diplomacy, which in turn slowed down and sometimes impeded reactions from the one entity best suited to fulfill the decisionmaking role to authorize outside military intervention-the UN Security Council. The cases of Cambodia and Central America suggest another approach. Regional groupings with essentially small countries-for El Salvador and Nicaragua the Contadora Group, the Lima Support Group, and the Central American presidents; and for Cambodia the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN)-are less threatening and can be helpful on the diplomatic front. The conventional wisdom holds that the Security Council makes political decisions on behalf of the international community and then subcontracts downward to a regional institution such as NATO in the former Yugoslavia for its support services. Cambodia and El Salvador suggest the plausibility of a different model, namely, for the regional institution to ensure agreement among the parties and then subcontract upward to the United Nations for its military, civil administration, and humanitarian services. Finally, UN involvement in the civil wars in Central America shows that international organizations approach security in different ways, some of which clash. This is one of the few regional conflicts in which a page has been turned, but peace building has focused largely on short- and medium-term objectives (cease-fire monitoring, resettlement, elections). As these specific functions are being completed, relevant UN staff are departing, leaving largely untouched the deeper, long-term structural issues at the root of the wars. Alvaro de Soto and Graciana del Castillo have argued convincingly that the

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UN system is confronting difficulties in El Salvador, where UN efforts in the politico-military field "could be on a collision course" with the stabilization program and other economic adjustment activities by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank. 35 The Washington-based financial institutions are autonomous and are not usually considered part of the so-called UN system. But they are clearly an essential component of the international community's arsenal to combat civil wars. Whatever else was implied when the UN Secretary-General wrote of an "integrated approach to human security" in An Agenda for Peace, 36 the activities of intergovernmental organizations in the politico-military and the economic development realms should work together rather than at cross-purposes. Institutional changes required to overcome the schizophrenia are possible. For example, such changes would include involving theW ashington-based organizations in peace negotiations from the outset rather than after the fact and also creating a unified UN presence in postconflict countries rather than having multiple sources of authority.

The Media From a historical perspective, the influence of the media on foreign policy is nothing new. Before the Spanish civil war, for example, William Randolph Hearst commented to Frederick Remington, "You furnish the pictures; I'll furnish the war." More recently, the media has played a role in galvanizing international action for civil wars. Its current influence was foreshadowed in earlier crises: Biafra in the late 1960s, Bangladesh in the early 1970s, and Ethiopia in 1973 and again in 1984. But media influence in post-Cold War crises has taken a quantitative jump. Starting in northern Iraq in 1991 and continuing in Somalia and Bosnia and Herzegovina, observers have quipped that Ted Turner and the Cable News Network (CNN) rather than Boutros Boutros-Ghali or the U.S. president are in charge. This is only slightly hyperbolic. Without a clear policy framework after the waning of East-West tensions, governments are more prone to be buffeted by the pressures of media coverage.37 The connections between the media and political and humanitarian action in civil wars recur and are predictable, but the chemistry of the interaction between public exposure and international engagement requires serious anal ytical review. Technological changes in the communications world have greatly enhanced interaction among the three key sets of outside actors responding to civil wars: the media, governmental policymakers, and the United Nations. Everyone seems to have a view, but there are more anecdotes than data. Gaining an understanding of the interaction among the actors has a special urgency. There is widespread agreement that the media exercised a decisive influence on political decisionmakers and on military and humanitarian organizations in Somalia and Bosnia. If the wrong conclusions are drawn about these

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operations and are publicized by the media, these efforts may come to represent the high-water mark of assertive post-Cold War action by the United Nations in civil wars. Given the prospect of retreat from such challenges, we urgently require better informed responses to questions such as the following. Why was the December 1992 intervention in Somalia not followed by similar initiatives in neighboring southern Sudan, where even more civilians were in danger, or in Angola, where shortly after 1,000 people were dying each day? Was it a lack of television coverage, or were other political factors more important? If policy is not driven by the media, as British Foreign Secretary Douglas Hurd claimed, how can we interpret the sudden spiriting away of the Bosnian youngster Irma Hadzimurotovic and other war-wounded Sarajevans to previously unavailable hospital beds in Britain and elsewhere?38 Or again, as the president of United Press International claimed in an effort to delimit the responsibility of the media, why has the war in the Balkans dragged on despite relentless media coverage of the carnage?39 The media has quickened tripartite interaction in some instances and in others may have complicated it unnecessarily. In Somalia, for example, the media played a role in bringing about the military intervention many nongovernmental humanitarian agencies had sought, overlooking the dissenting views of other NGOs. The wake of media coverage of the U.S.-led intervention actually brought other operational problems; for instance, more aid workers were killed during the Unified Task Force (UNITAF) phase than in the preceding year. And media airing of indignities suffered by dead marines also played a role in the premature termination of the Western military presence. Occasionally the media's role is also problematic. In addition to dramatizing needs, publicizing human rights abuse, stimulating action, and generating resources, the media has distorted the kinds of assistance provided, skewed the allocations of resources and personnel among geographical areas, ignored the role oflocal humanitarians, and focused international attention on the perceived bungling of various agencies. The influence of the media has also created difficult choices for aid agencies about the amount of human and financial resources they allocate to the cultivation of media relationships rather than to operations. In circulating information, the media helps set the foreign policy agenda. Here, too, viewpoints differ about the nature of the media as an institution. Some observers see the media as a manipulator that is bound to convey shallow and misinformed conclusions; others view it as the helpless victim of circumstance and of the harsh economics of the industry itself. In separating the media into broadcast (radio and television) and print (newspapers, journals, and specialists}, major differences appear between news and opinion sources and between those with local or national perspectives versus those with a global reach. Analysis must consider both the economic realities that drive the media to ''tell a good story" more quickly and better than

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competitors and the prevailing tensions resulting from the challenges to inform, entertain, and persuade. In short, the media is both an institution and a process, subject to influences over which it has little control as well as being a major player in its own right. The media has clearly influenced the United Nations and its position on civil wars, but a more basic understanding of the exact impact on setting policy and action is essential.

The U.S. Role Charles Krauthammer' s "unipolar moment" lasted no longer than Francis Fukuyama's "end of history." 40 "Superpower'' is an inaccurate description for the United States, but U.S. leadership is still the sine qua non of meaningful UN actions, particularly those involving large military forces. The lack of vision and direction in the Clinton administration's foreign policy is particularly unsettling. Policymakers in Washington have steadily abandoned the pro-UN stance that had formed part of Clinton's campaign. Symptomatic of this shift was the contentious interagency debate beginning in mid-1993 about the wisdom of placing U.S. combat troops under UN command, as had been recommended in a draft presidential decision directive leaked to the media. The same tension surfaced in September of that year in the minority report of the U.S. Commission on Improving the Effectiveness of the United Nations. 41 It continued as the president delivered his maiden speech before the General Assembly in New York as U.S. troops were hit with heavy casualties in Mogadishu. The Defense Department's 1993 Bottom Up Review questioned the feasibility of multilateral military efforts in general and, in particular, the wisdom of sending U.S. troops as part of UN efforts to restore the elected government in Port-au-Prince. Mter a year of fierce interagency feuding, ill-fated military operations in Somalia and Haiti, and waffling about the former Yugoslavia, Presidential Decision Directive (PDD) 25 was finally signed in early May 1994.42 The document justified an abrupt change in policy and was part of a historical pattern of U.S. voltes-face. 43 The so-called policy reflects how much Washington has washed its hands of responsibility and abandoned the mantle of leadership. Before the United States agrees to participate in any operation, PDD 25 spells out strict guidelines to be considered: U.S. interests, the availability of troops and funds, the necessity for U.S. participation, congressional approval, a clear date for U.S. withdrawal, and appropriate command and control arrangements. Moreover, Washington will not approve any new UN operation, with or without U.S. soldiers, unless other restrictive criteria are satisfied. The crisis must represent a threat to international peace and security (specifically including access to starving civilians), gross abuses of human rights, or a violent overthrow of a democratically elected government. Any proposed intervention must

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involve clear objectives, the availability of troops and funding, and-most importantly-the consent of the parties and a realistic exit strategy. New operations will rarely, if ever, satisfy these conditions. Consequently, we can expect more inaction such as the lack of response to Rwanda's gruesome ordeal. In response to the slaughter of hundreds of thousands of civilians and the appearance of the largest number of refugees (250,000, according to estimates) ever to materialize in a twenty-four-hour period, the international community actually reduced its commitment from 2, 700 troops to a few hundred. Although the massacre continued, the Security Council debated how to send and finance African peacekeepers, and the United States blocked the first efforts to do so. Meanwhile, President Clinton told graduating naval cadets in Annapolis that Rwanda was not in U.S. interests, and France proceeded with its largely symbolic and controversial intervention from across the border in Zaire as another 1.5 million refugees appeared. Rwanda's abandonment to become a humanitarian catastrophe that is unprecedented for a single country--6 to 10 percent of its population dead and two-thirds of the remaining population displaced-followed the retreat of U.S. and Canadian peacekeepers aboard the U.S.S. Harlan County headed for Port-au-Prince, the withdrawal of U.S. and other Western troops from Somalia, and the U.S. refusal to consider either sending ground forces to Bosnia or pursuing any other robust military effort in that hapless region. Oddly enough, PDD 25 still maintains a provision for simultaneously fighting two regional conflicts. How can an administration elected with a promise to trim military expenditures justify maintaining a $250 billion annual budget for the Pentagon while it renounces participation in UN security operations? With Pontius Pilate as the new model for U.S. engagement in armed conflicts, the United Nations and those suffering in civil wars are in desperate straits.

Conclusion Although humanitarians often argue that compassion fatigue is a facile excuse for avoiding global responsibilities,44 domestic political constraints are very palpable throughout the West, where recessionary and budgetary requirements clash directly with the need for outside help in what seems like a never-ending series of crises around the world. Parliamentary financial pressures not only conflict with growing demands for assistance, but the UN's brief as a world organization with a broad mandate, universal membership, and a global operational network also means that every crisis is on its agenda. Like the surgeon on the battlefield, policymakers have to make tough decisions during this crisis of crises. For those trying to make sense of the UN' s possible contribution to the postCold War security agenda, several lessons emerge to guide decisions about who

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needs no help, who cannot be helped, and who can and must be helped. Operational implications of the location of a civil war in the Third World or the former Second World are few, except for ensuring appropriate Russian participation. Moscow will clearly play a central role in the "near abroad," but NATO must be careful to ensure that Russia's participation in the Partnership for Peace is not perceived as a new Yalta for peacekeeping in the former Warsaw Pact. With fragmentation likely to continue, hairsplitting about the distinctions between interstate and intrastate conflicts is worthwhile only for international lawyers. Attempting to mitigate the human suffering caused by civil wars is a growing and legitimate task for the international community. However, great care is required before commitments are made because civil wars are complicated terrain for the United Nations or anyone else. It would be better to avoid commitments and maintain a tattered credibility than to put collective toes in the water and pull back when the temperature is not right, as it rarely is. Specifying in advance the criteria for an operation would be extremely helpful in measuring success or failure. This approach has an additional advantage, requiring decisionmakers to be perfectly clear in communicating with their publics about UN involvement in civil wars. At a minimum, governments voting for resolutions must also commit commensurate military and humanitarian resources to provide a realistic basis for mandates. The coming generation of multifaceted operations requires better trained military, civilian administrators, and humanitarians. Coordination, long a hobby horse of governments versus the United Nations, has become even more imperative as a result of uniting more complex UN efforts with outside military forces and an ever growing number of nongovernmental organizations. Real leadership and a more hierarchical and military-like structure are required for UN operations in active civil wars. The laissez-faire approach of the past toward the bevy of actors that flocks to the scene of disasters is simply impermissible when so many lives are at stake and so few resources are available. The Security Council's role at center stage should continue. Additional efforts are required from governments to ensure that more transparency and criteria govern intervention. Whatever the results of such multilateral diplomacy and discussions, moving toward a UN monopoly in decisionmaking about enforcement should help deter the abuse of populations and the resort to purely unilateral agendas. The professional ineptitude of the United Nations in military matters dictates an expansion of the coalition-type efforts used in northern Iraq rather than the establishment of a UN army or even a small rapid deployment force. Better working relationships with, and more subcontracting to, NATO should also be explored. The concern to keep on the right side of governments cannot continue to dominate the UN Secretary-General's and secretariat's attitudes toward UN operations. Kowtowing to an outmoded notion of state sovereignty means the UN field personnel in civil wars have not done as much as they could have in terms of protecting human rights. This points toward the notion of a better

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division of labor in civil wars. Both local and international nongovernmental organizations should play an expanded role in delivering assistance, and the Washington-based financial institutions should be integrated early into efforts to end civil wars. Prevention is so intuitively attractive that the international community needs to begin to operationalize its practice. In spite of the difficulties in moving beyond rhetoric, the political and economic costs of outside intervention in civil wars so dwarf those of forestalling such wars that prevention is emerging as the diplomatic issue of the late 1990s. At the least, governments should avoid legitimating ethnonationalism. The media influences governmental, nongovernmental, and intergovernmental responses to civil wars. Analysts often suffer from a professional malady that makes them call for more research, but in this area the call is on target because there are more hypotheses than data and analysis. Finally, there is simply no substitute for leadership from Washington. This essential, if insufficient, condition for UN action in civil wars has disappeared from the White House but has surfaced elsewhere. The mid-June 1994 vote in the House of Representatives to order the president to circumvent UN resolutions and end U.S. participation in the arms embargo against the Bosnian government may have been a harbinger of a necessary shift in power from the White House to Capitol Hill. The Senate's initial tie vote on this issue was quickly reversed. Spurred by the turnaround in the Senate, President Clinton finally promised in mid-August to push the Bosnian policy he claimed to have favored all along. He committed himself to requesting that the Security Council lift the arms embargo against the Bosnian government and proceed unilaterally should the council not agree and in spite of both Britain's and France's threats to withdraw their troops from the UN Protection Force (UNPROFOR). Whatever the outcome, an important psychological threshold may have been crossed The House directly rebuked the president and his team of advisers and began to assert leadership to fill the vacuum in Washington. A Clinton administration so seemingly inconsistent in its conduct of foreign policy and without resolve not only had placed dictators and thugs at ease, it had also exacerbated suffering by civilian victims in the former Yugoslavia and elsewhere. There is usually some frustration in reaching the end of a research effort, and this book is no exception. I am distressed at how far away we are from having satisfactory answers to guide policymak:ers concerning what could and should be the actions of the United Nations in civil wars as we move toward the next century. Nonetheless, we must continue to grope and cope, doing our best to muddle through. We cannot wait to be 100 percent sure of success before proceeding, or we will never act. However, we should have more knowledge than presently exists. This is the challenge for my colleagues, my students, and me.

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Notes An earlier version of this chapter was originally published as "The United Nations and Civil Wars," Washington Quarterly 17, no. 4 (Autumn 1994): 139-159. 1. For an overview, see Thomas G. Weiss, David P. Forsythe, and Roger A. Coate, The United Nations and Changing World Politics (Boulder: Westview Press, 1994). 2. For these and other gruesome statistics, see Sadako Ogata, The State of the World's Refugees 1993: The Challenge of Protection (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993). 3. Thomas G. Weiss, ''Triage: Humanitarian Interventions in a New Era," World Policy Journalll, no. 1 (Spring 1994): 59-68; and "UN Responses in the Former Yugoslavia: Moral and Operational Choices," Ethics and International Affairs 8 (1994 ): 1-22. 4. See "Moscow Counts onltselfto Stem Conflicts in CIS," Peacekeeping Monitor 1, no. 1 (May-June 1994): 4-5, 12-13. 5. Charles William Maynes, "A Workable Clinton Doctrine," Foreign Policy 93 (Winter 1993-1994): 3-20. 6. Robert D. Kaplan, ''The Coming Anarchy," Atlantic Monthly (February 1994): 44-76. 7. Adam Roberts, "Ethnic Conflict: Threat and Challenge to the UN," in Anthony McDermott (ed. ), Ethnic Conflict and International Security (Oslo: Norwegian Institute of International Affairs, 1994), 7. 8. See Ruth Sivard, World Military and Social Expenditures 1993 (Washington, D.C.: World Priorities, 1993). For other discussions of these challenges, see James N. Rosenau, Turbulence in World Politics: A Theory ofChange and Continuity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990); August Richard Norton, ''The Security Legacy of the 1980sintheThirdW orld,"inThomasG .WeissandMerylA .Kessler(eds.),Th irdWorld Security in the Post-Cold War Era (Boulder: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1991 ), 19-34; Lawrence Freedman, "OrderandDisord erintheNewWorld ," ForeignAffairs11 (19911992): 20-37; James N. Rosenau, "Normative Challenges in a Turbulent World," and Charles W. Kegley Jr., ''The New Global Order: The Power of Principle in a Pluralistic World," Ethics & International Affairs 6 (1992): 1-40; Daniel Patrick Moynihan, Pandemonium: Ethnicity in International Politics (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993); Joel Kotkin, Tribes: How Race, Religion, and Identity Determine Success in the New Global Economy (New York: Random House, 1993); Ted Robert Gurr, Minorities at Risk: A Global View ofEthnopolitical Conflicts (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace Press, 1993); ''Ethnic Conflict and International Security," a special issue of Survival35 (Spring 1993); and "Reconstructing Nations and States," a special issue of Daedulus 122 (Summer 1993). 9. See Morton H. Halperin and David J. Scheffer, Self-Determination in the New World Order (Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Endowment, 1992). 10. The Geneva Convention of August 12, 1949, and Protocols Additional to the Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949 (Geneva: ICRC, 1989). 11. See Thomas G. Weiss and Jarat Chopra, "Sovereignty Is No Longer Sacrosanct: Codifying Humanitarian Intervention," Ethics and International Affairs 6 (1992): 95117. 12. Gerald B. HelmanandSteve nR.Ratner, "Saving Failed States," Foreign Policy 89 (Winter 1992-1993): 3-20. 13. See Paul Johnson, "Colonialism's Back-and Not a Moment Too Soon," New York Times Magazine, April18, 1993. 14. John Gerard Ruggie, ''Wandering in the Void," Foreign Affairs 12, no. 5

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(November-December 1993): 26-31. 15. "U.N. Commander Wants More Troops, Fewer Resolutions," New York Times, December 31, 1993, A3. 16. John Steinbruner, "Memorandum: Civil Violence as an International Security Problem," reproduced as Annex C in Francis M. Deng, Protecting the Dispossessed: A Challenge for the International Community (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution, 1993), 155. 17. See Thomas G. Weiss, "Intervention: Whither the United Nations?" Washington Quanerly 17, no. 1 (Winter 1993): 109-128. 18. Adam Roberts, "Humanitarian War: Military Intervention and Human Rights," International Affairs 69, no. 3 (1993): 429. 19. See articles by Noam Chomsky, Christopher Hitchens, Richard Falk, Carl Coretta, Charles Knight, and Robert Leavitt in Boston Review 18 (December-January 1993-1994): 3-16. 20. See A. B. Fetherson, "Putting the Peace Back into Peacekeeping: Theory Must Inform Practice," International Peacekeeping 1, no. 1 (Spring 1994): 3-29. 21. Alex de WaalandRakiyaOmaar, "Can Military Intervention Be 'Humanitarian?"' Middle East Repon, nos. 187/188 (March-April/May-June 1994): 7. 22. See Mohammed Ayoob, The Third World Security Predicament: State-making, Regional Conflict, and the International System (Boulder: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1995). 23. See Boutros Boutros-Ghali,An Agenda for Peace, (New York: United Nations, 1992) and "Empowering the United Nations," ForeignAffairs71 (Winter 1992-1993): 89-102. 24. Boutros Boutros-Ghali, "An Agenda for Peace: One Year Later," Orbis 37 (Summer 1993): 332. 25. As quoted by Julia Preston, "U.N. Officials ScaleBackPeacemakingAmbitions," Washington Post, October 28, 1993, A40. For a further discussion of conceptual fuzziness, see Thomas G. Weiss, "New Challenges for UN Military Operations: Implementing an Agenda for Peace," Washington Quanerly 16 (Winter 1993): 51--66. 26. Deng, Protecting the Dispossessed, 134. 27. See Human Rights Watch, The Lost Agenda: Human Rights and U.N. Field Operations (New York: Human Rights Watch, 1993). 28. I am grateful to Roberta Cohen for insights on this issue. See "International Protection for Internally Displaced Persons," in Louis Henkin and John Lawrence Hargrove (eds.), Human Rights: An Agenda for the Next Century (Washington, D.C.: American Society of International Law, 1994), 17-49. See also Charles H. Norchi, "Human Rights and Social Issues," and Jose E. Alvarez, "Legal Issues," in John Tessitore and Susan Woolfson (eds. ), A Global Agenda: Issues Before the 48th General Assembly (Lanham: University Press of America, 1993), 213-311. 29. For a discussion, see Dick Thornburgh, Reform and Restructuring at the United Nations: A Progress Repon (Hanover: Rockefeller Center, 1993). See also other cautionary notes by Charles William Maynes, "Containing Ethnic Conflict," Foreign Policy 90 (Spring 1993): 3-21; and Stephen John Stedman, "The New Interventionists," Foreign Affairs 72 (1992-1993): 1-16. 30. See Michael S. Lund, Preventive Diplomacy and American Foreign Policy (Washington, D.C.: 1994), 27. 31. For a discussion, see Larry Minear and Thomas G. Weiss, Mercy Under Fire: War and the Global Humanitarian Community (Boulder: Westview Press, 1995); see also their Humanitarian Action in Times ofWar: A Handbookfor Practitioners (Boulder: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1993), and a series of edited essays with commentary in Humanitarianism Across Borders: Sustaining Civilians in Times of War (Boulder:

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215

Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1993). 32. For the history of peacekeeping, see Alan James, Peacekeeping and International Politics (London: Macmillan, 1990), and The Blue Helmets (New York: United Nations, 1990). For more analytical treatments, see Thomas G. Weiss and Jarat Chopra, UN Peacekeeping: An ACUNS Teaching Text (Hanover: Academic Council on the United Nations System, 1992); William J. Durch (ed.), The Evolution of UN Peacekeeping: Case Studies and Comparative Analysis (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1993); Adam Roberts, "The United Nations and International Security," Survival35 (Summer 1993): 3-30; Paul Diehl, International Peacekeeping (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993); Marrack Goulding, "The Evolution of United Nations Peacekeeping," International Affairs 69 ( 1993): 451-464; Mats R. Berdal, Whither UN Peacekeeping? Adelphi Paper 281 (London: International Institute for Strategic Studies, 1993); and David A. Charters (ed.), Peacekeeping and the Challenge of Civil Conflict Resolution (Fredericton: Centre for Conflict Studies, 1994). For a focus on the military, see John Mackinlay andJ arat Chopra, "Second Generation Multinational Operations," Washington Quarterly 15 (Spring 1992): 113-131, and A Draft Concept of Second Generation Multinational Operations 1993 (Providence: Watson Institute, 1993 ); William J. Durch, The United Nations and Collective Security in the 21st Century (Carlisle: U.S. Army War College, 1993); The Professionalization of Peacekeeping: A Study Group Report (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace, 1993); and Dennis J. Quinn (ed.), Peace Support Operations and the U.S. Military (Washington, D.C.: National Defense University Press, 1994). 33. See Judith Randel and Tony German (eds.), The Reality of Aid 94 (London: Actionaid, May 1994), especially 30-32. 34. For a discussion, see NeilS. MacFarlane and Thomas G. Weiss, "Regional Organizations and Regional Security," Security Studies 2 (Fall-Winter 1992-1993): 637, and "The United Nations, Regional Organizations, and Human Security," Third World Quarterly 15, no. 2 (April1994): 277-295. 35. Alvaro de Soto and Graciana del Castillo, "Obstacles to Peacebuilding," Foreign Policy 94 (Spring 1994): 70. 36. Boutros Boutros-Ghali, An Agenda for Peace (New York: United Nations, 1992), para. 16. This theme is expanded throughout his An Agenda for Development (New York: United Nations, 1994). 37. See James F. Hoge Jr., "Media Pervasiveness," Foreign Affairs 73 (JulyAugust 1994): 136-144. 38. See Michael Binyon, "Media's Tunnel Vision Attacked by Hurd," Times of London, September 10, 1993; Robin Gedye, "Hurd Hits Out Again at Media," Daily Telegraph, September 11, 1993; and Michael Leapman, "Do We Let Our Hearts Rule?" Independent, September 15, 1993. 39. Louis D. Boccardi, "Luncheon Remarks," during Columbia University's "Forum on War and Peace in Somalia: The Role of the Media, an International Perspective," February 16, 1994. 40. See Charles Krautharnmer, "The Unipolar Moment," Foreign Affairs 15, no. 3 (Summer 1992): 113-134; and Francis Fukuyama, The End ofHistory and the Last Man (New York: Free Press, 1992). This argument about the U.S. role was first made in Thomas G. Weiss, "When the US Washes Its Hands of the World," Christian Science Monitor, May 25, 1994, 23. 41. Defining Purpose: The UN and the Health of Nations (Washington, D.C.: United States Commission on Improving the Effectiveness of the United Nations, 1993). 42. See "Executive Summary: The Clinton Administration's Policy on Reforming Multilateral Peace Operations," unclassified document, May 3, 1994. 43. See Robert W. Gregg, About Face: The United States and the United Nations

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(Boulder: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1993). See also Roger A. Coate (ed.), U.S. Policy and the Future of the United Nations (New York: Twentieth Century Fund, 1994). 44. See Randel and German (eds.), The Reality ofAid 94; andlan Smillie and Henny Helmich (eds.), Non-governmental Organisations and Governments: Stakeholders for Development (Paris: Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development, 1993).

List of Acronyms

AID ARENA ASEAN AzSSR BIRI CAPEL CGDK CIAV CIREFCA CIS CIVPOL CIVS

CNN COMURES COPAZ CPP CSCE DHA DNI

DPA DPKO DSRSG EAS EC ECOMOG ECOWAS EU FAO FDR

FMLN

Agency for International Development [United States] National Republican Alliance [El Salvador] Association of Southeast Asian Nations Azerbaijan Socialist Union Republic Quick Reaction Infantry Battalions [El Salvador] lnteramerican Institute for Human Rights' Electoral Center Coalition Government of Democratic Kampuchea International Support and Verification Commission International Conference on Refugees in Central America Commonwealth of Independent States civilian police International Commission for Verification and Follow-up Cable News Network Comunidad de Municipalidades [Local Government Association] [El Salvador] National Commission for the Consolidation of Peace Cambodian People's Party Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe Department of Humanitarian Affairs [United Nations] National Intelligence Directorate [El Salvador] Department of Political Affairs Department of Peacekeeping Operations Deputy Special Representative of the Secretary-General Existing Administrative Structure European Community ECOWAS Monitoring Group Economic Community of West African States European Union Food and Agriculture Organization Democratic Revolutionary Front Farabundo Marti National Liberation Front 217

218

ACRONYMS

FUNCINPEC FYROM GN GNP ICRC IGO ILO IMF JNA KPNLF MPLA NATO NGO NKAO NPFL OAS ONUC ONUCA ONUMOZ ONUSAL ONUVEH ONUVEN PDD PDK PH PN PNC PRODEC QRF SNC SNM

soc

SPM SRSG TSE UK UN UNAMIC UNAVEM UNCTAD UNDOF

National Union Front for an Independent, Neutral, Peaceful and Cooperative Cambodia Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia National Guard [El Salvador] gross national product International Committee of the Red Cross intergovernmental organization International Labour Organisation International Monetary Fund Yugoslavia National Army Khmer People's National Liberation Front Popular Movement for the Liberation of Angola North Atlantic Treaty Organization nongovernmental organization Nagorno-Karabagh Autonomous Province National Patriotic Forces of Liberia Organization of American States United Nations Operation in the Congo United Nations Observer Group in Central America United Nations Observer Mission in Mozambique United Nations Observer Mission in El Salvador United Nations Observer Group to VerifytheElectoralProcess in Haiti United Nations Observer Mission to Verify the Electoral Process in Nicaragua Presidential Decision Directive Party of Democratic Kampuchea [Khmer Rouge] Treasury Police [El Salvador] National Police [El Salvador] National Civilian Police [El Salvador] Documentation Project [El Salvador] Quick Reaction Force Supreme National Council Somali National Movement State of Cambodia Somalia Patriotic Movement Special Representative of the Secretary-General Electoral Tribunal [El Salvador] United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland United Nations United Nations Advance Mission in Cambodia United Nations Angola Verification Mission United Nations Conference on Trade and Development United Nations Disengagement Observer Force

ACRONYMS

UNDP UNDRO UNESCO UNGOMAP UNHCR UNICEF UNIDO UNITAF UNOSOM UNPAs UNPROFOR UNSF UNTAC UNTAG UNTEA

u.s. US AID

usc USSR WEU WFP WHO

•

219

United Nations Development Programme United Nations Disaster Relief Office United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization United Nations Good Offices Mission in Afghanistan and Pakistan United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees United Nations Children's Fund United Nations Industrial Development Organization Unified Task Force [in Somalia] United Nations Operation in Somalia United Nations Protected Areas United Nations Protection Force [in the former Yugoslavia] United Nations Security Force United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia United Nations Transition Assistance Group [in Namibia] United Nations Temporary Executive Authority United States United States Agency for International Development United Somali Congress Union of Soviet Socialist Republics Western European Union World Food Programme World Health Organization

About the Authors MoHAMMED AYooB is professor of international relations at Michigan State University. In 1993-1994 he was Ford Foundation fellow in international security at Brown University's Thomas J. Watson Jr. Institute for International Studies. He has taught at the Australian National University, the National University of Singapore, and Jawaharlal Nehru University in India and held visiting appointments at Princeton, Oxford, and Columbia Universities. His articles have appeared in such journals as World Politics, Foreign Policy, and International Affairs, and he is the author of ten books, including most recently The Third World Security Predicament: State Making, Regional Conflict and the International System. JARAT CHOPRA is a research associate at Brown University's Thomas J. Watson Jr. Institute for International Studies, where he lectures on international law and peacekeeping. He is also assistant director of the Watson Institute's Second Generation Multinational Forces project. He was formerly special assistant in peacekeeping at the International Institute for Strategic Studies in London and in 1990 was an editor at Survival. His articles have appeared in Ethics and International Affairs, and he is coauthor of A Draft Concept of Second Generation Multinational Operations. HEn WIG DECONINCK is pursuing graduate studies in the Department of Epidemiology and Preventive Medicine at the Catholic University ofLouvain after field positions in Asia and Africa with the International Committee of the Red Cross. MICHAEL W. DoYLE is professor of politics and international affairs at the Woodrow Wilson School and faculty associate at the Center of International Studies at Princeton University. In 1993-1994 he was vice president of the International Peace Academy. He has written three books, including most recently Empires, and is the author of numerous scholarly articles, book chapters, essays, and reviews.

221

222

ACRONYMS

CRISTINA EaVIZABAL chairs the masters program in political science at the University of Costa Rica and is a consultant for the Center for Peace and Reconciliation of the Arias Foundation for Peace and Human Progress. She received her doctorate in Latin American studies from the University of Paris (Sorbonne Nouvelle). She has taught at colleges and universities in Central America, France, Spain, and the United States and has also published extensively. AaE EKNEs is a political scientist and currently a researcher at the Norwegian Institute oflnternational Mfairs. He previously worked on United Nations and peacekeeping issues at the International Peace Academy in New York. He has also held senior positions in the Ministry of Defense in Norway. JoHN MACKINLAY is United Kingdom professor at the Marshall Centre and from 1992 to 1994 was visiting research fellow at the Thomas J.Watson Jr. Institute for International Studies and director of the Second Generation Multinational Forces Project. He is a retired lieutenant colonel in the British Army, and his research has focused on the military aspects of peacekeeping and observation. He is the author of The Peacekeepers and coauthor ofA Draft Concept ofSecond Generation Multinational Operations. LARRY MINEAR has been actively involved in humanitarian and development issues since 1972, both as an official of Church World Service and Lutheran World Relief and as aconsultantto UN organizations and the U.S. government. In 1990, he headed an international team that carried out a case study of Operation Lifeline Sudan. He currently codirects the Humanitarianism and War project at Brown University's Thomas J. Watson Jr. Institute for International Studies. His recent publications include Humanitarian Action in Times ofWar: A Handbook for Practitioners, Humanitarianism Across Borders: Sustaining Civilians in Times ofWar, and the forthcoming Mercy Under Fire: War and the Global Humanitarian Community (all with Thomas G. Weiss). DEBARATI G. SAPIR is professor in the Department of Epidemiology and Preventive Medicine at the Catholic University ofLouvain, where she also directs the Centre for Research on the Epidemiology of Disasters. She also serves as external adviser to the European Community Humanitarian Office. Her research focus has been the application of quantitative methods for policymaking and operational research, applied research in epidemiology, in health care, and in nutritional aspects of famines, earthquakes, and armed conflicts. STEPHEN D. SHENFIELD is a research associate at the Thomas J. Watson Jr. Institute for International Studies specializing in European and post-Soviet security. He is also research coordinator for new projects on security relations in the central

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

223

post-Soviet region. Previously, he was a research fellow at the Center for Russian and East European Studies at the University ofBirmingharnin England, where he received his Ph.D. in Soviet studies. He is coauthor of Russia's Future. AYAKA SUZUKI is a graduate student in international affairs at Columbia University. She also works for the American Assembly in New York, assisting in planning conferences on public policy issues. THoMAs G. WErss is associate director of the Thomas J. Watson Jr. Institute for International Studies and associate dean of the faculty at Brown University. Previously, he held several UN posts (at UNCTAD, the UN Commission for Namibia, UNITAR, and rr..O) and served as executive director of the International Peace Academy. He has written or edited sixteen books and numerous articles on aspects of development, peacekeeping, humanitarian relief, and international organizations. His most recent books are Collective Security in a Changing World, The United Nations and Changing World Politics (with David P. Forsythe and Roger A. Coate), and the forthcoming Mercy Under Fire: War and the Global Humanitarian Community (with Larry Minear). He is also executive director of the Academic Council on the United Nations System.

Index Abkhazia, 32, 37,43 Accountability of civil governance-in-trust, 84 Administration, international, 82. See also Civil governance-in-trust Mghanistan, 21, 39, 78 Agenda for Peace (Boutros-Ghali), 55-56, 99, 201 AJnned.~eeudknn, 129,142 Aidid, Mohammed Farah, 154, 156, 164, 165 Airborne Warnings and Control System (AWACS), 118 Albania, 118-119 Ali Mahdi, Mohammed, 154, 156 Angola, 22, 55 Argentina, 175 Armenia, 32, 33-34, 37, 43, 194 Armistice agreements, 75 Asia, Central, 16,40 Asia, Southeast, 17 Assistance and protection, 83, 94-95 Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), 127,206 Austria, 72 Authority, 70-71, 85-86 ~bmjan,32-34,37,39, 194 Balkans, 16. See also Yugoslavia, former Barre, Siad, 154 Bosnia, 18, 60, 109, 111, 114-124 Boundaries, transformation of state, 20-21 Boutros-Ghali, Boutros: coordination issues, 122; humanitarian enterprises, 94; overextension of UN, 1; Security Council vetoes, 99; Somalia, 163-164; statecentrism, 201; UNPROFOR, 117 Boxer Rebellion of 1900, 71 Brazil, 17

Bretton Woods institutions, 93 Briquemont, Francis, 198 Buffer zone experiences, 35 Bush, George, 17, 178 Calden)nSol,Armando, 187 Cambodia: civil administration, 131-144, 198; conclusions on, 144-146; elections, 85; faction fighters, 53-54, 55; human rights, 93; multidimensional peacekeeping, 129-131; People's Party (CPP), 136, 138; regional institutions, 206; second generation experiments, 80-81; UNTAC's successes/fmlures, 131-144, 198; Vietnam, 127-129 Carter, Jimmy, 175 Castillo, Graciana del, 206 Caucasus, the, 16,32-34,40 Cease-fire lines, 75 Central America, 46, 206 Chechnya, 32, 40 China, 17,71-72, 129, 140 Christian Democrats in El Salvador, 179 Citizenship vs. ethnicity defining state identity, 38 Civil governance-in-trust, 69-70; acceptance of, issues influencing, 82-86; early experiments, 70-75; first generation experiments, 75-78; legitimacy of, 87; second generation experiments, 78-82; UNTAC's, 131-144, 198 Civil wars, 19, 90, 193; conclusions on, 210212; evaluating multifunctional operations, 197-199; international actions in interstate vs., 195-196; intervention issues, 199-201; media influences, 207209; mixture of civil administration/

225

226

INDEX

humanitarian enterprises/military dealing with, 205-207; preventing, 203-205; state-centrism, 201-203; Third and former Second Worlds, 194-195; U.S. role, 209210 Clinton, Bill, 44, 209 Coalition Government of Democratic Kampuchea (CGDK), 128-129 Coercive peacemaking, 42 Cold War: E1 Salvador, 175; humanitarian enterprises, 97; Manichean global tussles between good/evil, 14; Somalia, 151; specialists looking for answers at end of, 13; Third World, 17-19, 27; unreasonable expectations after, 89; weapons from superpowers to Third World, 21-22 Collective security, doctrine of, 26 Collectivist psychology, disoriented, 36 Colombia, 73, 176, 182 Colonialism, 20, 74,76-77 Commission on Human Rights, Genevabased, 92-93 Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS), 38,42,44,45,194 Compassion fatigue, 193 Conceptual issues for humanitarian enterprises, 94-98 Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE), 44, 112, 194 Conflict prevention/resolution, 96-97, 112113,119,195-196,203-205 Congo,54,57,77 Conquest and annexation, 24-25 Consent of parties in peacekeeping operations, 52,54,58 Contadora Group Initiative, 176,206 Control and civil governance-in-trust, 83 Coordinating multifunctional operations, 6264, 122 Crete, 71 Crimea, 34, 43 Criminal law/prosecution, 86 Cristiani,AJ~o, 180,186,187 Croatia, 18, 37, 102, 109-112, 114-124 Cyprus, 57 Czech lands, 38 Danzig, port of, 72 Democracies and instabilities on global periphery, 27-28 Deng, Francis, 202 Denmark, 72-73 Department of Humanitarian Affairs (DHA), 101-102

Department of Peacekeeping Operations (DPK0),93 Department of Political Affairs (DPA), 93-94 de Soto, AJvaro, 180, 206 Developing countries. See Third World Development strategies, 95-97 Dniester Moldovan Republic, 32, 33, 43 Doctrinal development, obstacles to, 54-57 Draft Concept of Second Generation Multinational Operations 1993, A, 56 Duarte, Napole6n, 178 Dutch West New Guinea, 76-77 Ecological degradation, 40 Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), 103 Economic Community of West African States Monitoring Group (ECOMOG), 53 Elections, verifying, 79, 85, 130, 132-133, 141, 188 El Salvador, 81, 173-174; conclusions on, 188-189; conflict in, 175-176; demobilization in, 184-185; Electoral Tribunal in, 186, 187-188; international/regional approaches to peace, 176-178; land issues in, 175, 184-185; 1994 elections and beyond, 186-188;0NUS~,183-186; peacemaking in, 178-183; regional institutions, 206 Esquipulas Peace Plan, 177, 181 Estonia, 43 Ethiopia, 19, 22 Ethnicity, defining, 18 Ethnonationalism: autonomy in state construction, 36-37; ethnic cleansing, 37, 102-103, 111, 116; multiethnic states, breakdown of, 38-39; nation-state split caused by, 90; refugees, 22; selfdetermination doctrine, 18-19; Soviet Union, former, 33-34; statehood, lack of effective, 19-20; UN response to, 26; Vance-Owen plan of 1993, 120; warnings about, 25 Europe: Crete, 71; El Salvador, 176; regional institutions, 206; Slovenia/Croatia recognized by, 18; state-building in 17th19th centuries, 24; superpower commitments in, 14; weapon sales, 17; Yugoslavia, former, 109-110, 112-113, 114 Existing Administrative Structure (EAS), Phnom Penh, 134 Faction fighters, 52-54, 55, 61

INDEX

Failed states, 19-22, 25, 39, 96, 196 Falkland Islands-Malvinas War of 1982, 173 FMLN (Farabundo Marti Front for National Liberation) in El Salvador, 81, 173, 178186 Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), 93 Force levels, multinational, 57-59, 61 France, 53, 72,129 Future, looking towards the: compassion fatigue, 193; conclusions, 210--212; evaluating successes/failures of UN, 197199; international actions in civil vs. interstate wars, 195-196; intervention issues, 199-201; media influences, 207209; mixture of civil administration! humanitarian actions/military, 205-207; preventative actions, 203-205; statecentrism, 201-203; Third and former Second Worlds, 194--195; U.S. role, 209-210 Geographical expansion of Third World, 15 Georgia, 32, 37, 39,43 Germany, 72-73, 123 Golan Heights, 57, 58 Gorbachev, Mikhail, 37 Goulding, Marrack, 185, 186 Governorship and civil governance-in-trust, 82-83 GreatBritain,46, 72,74--75 Greece, 71 Hadzimurotovic, Irma, 208 Haiti, 195 Hannum, Hurst, 20, 25 Hansen, Peter, 101 Heng Samrin-Hun Sen regime (Cambodia), 127-129 High-level forces, 57,58-59 Humanitarian enterprises, 23-24, 89-91; actors in, 91-94; conceptual issues, 94-98; conclusions on, 102-104; future, looking towards the, 200; options and implications for, 98-1 02; Somalia, 154, 156-163; Yugoslavia, former, 121-123 Human rights, 86,92-93,95, 175, 185-186, 202 Hungary, 72 India, 17, 19, 25,46 Indonesia, 76-77, 129 Industrialized nations and instabilities on global periphery, 27-28

227

Informal networks and traditional structures, 156-157 lntegrationist/insulationist approaches by UN, 99-101 International Commission for Verification and Follow-up (CIVS), 177, 178 International Conference on Refugees in Central America (CIREFCA), 180, 186 International Labour Organisation (ILO), 93, 153 International Monetary Fund (IMF), 93, 207 International presence and civil governancein-trust, 85-86. See also Civil governance-in-trust; Nongovernmental organizations (NGOs); specific organizations International Settlement of Shanghai, 71 International system: borders, state, 20--21; civil wars shocking, 90; conquest and annexation, 24--25; elections, national, 188; interstate vs. civil wars, 195-196; North/South dichotomy, 15-16; UNTAC, 144; Western allies divided, 123 Intervention issues for the future, 199-201 lntracommunal violence, 52-54, 55, 61 Intrastate conflicts. See Civil wars Iraq, 23, 102 Ireland, Northern, 46 Israel, 75 Italy, 72, 75 Japan, 72 Jerusalem, 75 Jesuit priests killed in El Salvador, 181 Jonah, James, 23 Jordan, 75 Karabagh war, 32, 37 ~akhstan,42,43,45

Khmer People's National Liberation Front (KPNLF), 127, 140 Khmer Rouge, 53, 127, 132-133, 137, 139, 140, 144 Korea, 17, 57 Kosovo, 112 Kurdish people, 23 Kyrgyzstan, 34, 40, 42 Latin American regional powers, 176 Law, criminal, 86 League of Nations, 72, 73-74 Lebanon, 54 Leninist ideology, 16 Lezgistan, 34

228

INDEX

Liberia, 39, 46, 53, 103 Locally based clientele networks, 40, 53, 58, 60--{)1, 163 LonNol, 127 Low-level forces, 57, 58 Macedonia, 112, 114, 118-119 Mandate of civil governance-in-trust, 85 Mandelbaum, Michael, 23 Manichean global tussles between good and evil, 14 McNamara, Dennis, 138 Media and civil wars, 207-209 Memel, port of, 72 Mexico, 176, 182 Middle East, 17, 57 Mid-level forces, 57-58, 59, 61 Militarization of political life in E1 Salvador, 185 Militarization of the male population, 37 Military responses to emergencies, 51; coordinating multifunctional operations, 62-64; doctrinal development, obstacles to, 54-57; essential military tasks, 64-66; humanitarian organizations involvement, 102; intracommunal violence, 52-54; multinational forces, 57-62; Somalia, 157, 163-166; UNTAC, 139-140 Milosevic, Slobadan, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 119, 124 Moldova, 32, 33, 43 Multidimensional peacekeeping, 129-131 Multiethnic states, breakdown of, 38-39 Multifunctional operations, 1, 4-5, 86-87; coordinating, 62-64; doctrinal development, obstacles to, 54-57; evaluating, 197-199; humanitarian enterprises, 90, 100; intracommunal violence, 52-54; military tasks, essential, 64-66; multinational forces, 57-62; UNTAC, 81 Multinational forces, 51-52,57-62 Muslims in Bosnia, 18, 111-112, 114-124 Nagorno-Karabagh Autonomous Province (NKA0),37 Namibia, 78-80 National Civilian Police (PNC) in El Salvador, 185 National Commission for the Consolidation of Peace (CO PAZ) in El Salvador, 182 National Front for a United Independent, Neutral, Peaceful and Cooperative Cambodia (FUNCINPEC), 127, 132, 140

National Patriotic Forces of Liberia (NPLF), 53 National Republican Alliance (ARENA), 180, 187 Nicaragua, 173, 176, 177, 206 Nigeria, 46 Nomenklatura in postcomrnunist world, 36 Nongovernmental organizations (NGOs): Cambodia, 142-143; coordination issues, 122; El Salvador, 179-180; faction fighters, 61; future, looking towards the, 205; multinational forces, 57; Somalia, 163; UN involvement in humanitarian enterprises, 94 Nordic countries, 176 Norms, international, 20-21, 24-25 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), 55, 109, 113, 117-118, 124 North/South dichotomy, 15-16 O'Linn, Sean, 80 ONUSAL. See UN Observer Mission in E1 Salvador Operation des Nations Unies au Congo (ONUC), 77-78 Organization of American States (OAS), 46, 173, 174 Organizations, international. See Civil governance-in-trust; Nongovernmental organizations (NGOs); specific organizations Ortega, Daniel, 178, 181 Osset-Ingush conflict, 32, 40, 42, 43 Owen-Stoltenberg plan, 121 Pakistan, 19, 25, 78 Palestine, 75 Papuans, 76-77 Paris Agreements of 1991, 129-130, 131, 140-141 Partnership and civil governance-in-trust, 83 Pasic, Najdan, 16 Peacekeeping operations: Cambodia, 129; doctrinal development, obstacles to, 5457; El Salvador, 176-186; listing of (1948-1993), 2-4; multidimensional, 129-131; principles for, UN, 52; Russia, 41-46; Yugoslavia, former, 116-119. See also Civil governance-in-trust; Humanitarian enterprises; Military responses to emergencies Perez de Cuellar, Javier, 180-183 Peru, 73

INDEX

Pink zones in former Yugoslavia, 116 Plebiscite commissions, 72-73 Poland, 72-73 Police, UN civilian (CIVPOL), 79-80, 86, 142, 143 Police in El Salvador, National Civilian (PNC), 185 Political action vs. humanitarian enterprises, 97-98, 121-122 Political factions, armed power struggles between, 41 Politically innocent humanitarian intervention, 23-24 Population growth, 40 Poverty, 153 Preventative deployment/actions, 96-97, 112113,119,195-196,203-205 Privatization of property, 35 Prosecution process, 86 Protection and assistance, 94-95 Protection of Humanitarian Mandates in Conflict Situations (Eliasson), 100 Prussia, East, 72-7 3 Rapid-reaction forces, 56, 141 Reagan, Ronald, 176, 179 Recognition issues in former Yugoslavia, 114-115 Recognition norms, international, 20-21 Red Cross, International Committee of (ICRC), 7, 94, 100, 141, 157, 160, 195 Refugees, 33; aggressors helped by moving, 123; broadening concept of, 92; Cambodia, 129, 130, 132; Central America, 177; El Salvador, 179-180; ethnonationalism, 22; future, looking towards the, 194; Rwanda, 210; Somalia, 153, 157; UN Development Programme, 91; Yugoslavia, former, 121 Regional organizations, 206-207 Regional states, armed struggles among, 41 Relief-to-development continuum, 95-96 Resources, increasing pressure on, 40 Resources and civil governance-in-trust, 8384 Romero, Oscar Arnulfo, 175 Russia: Cambodia, 129; future, looking towards the, 194; imperialism, 16, 41; peacekeeping forces, 32; post-Soviet armed conflicts, 41-46; ubiquitous presence of, 39; weapon sales, 17; Yugoslavia, former, 109, 120, 123 Rwanda, 18, 44, 53, 94, 204, 210

229

Saar, 73 Sahnoun,~ohamed, 154 Sanchez, Oscar Arias, 177 Sanctions,98,99, 102 San Isidro Coronado Summit of 1989, 181 Saudi Arabia, 153 Second World, 31-32, 194-195; proximate causes of armed conflict in, 37-40. See also Soviet Union, former Secretary-General, 93-94, 205 Securistslsecouristes (UN organizations), 91. See also Humanitarian enterprises Security, doctrine of collective, 26 Security Council, UN, 26, 45, 75; Cambodia, 139; Commission of Experts, 93; ethnonationalism, 90; future, looking towards the, 194-195,200, 211; humanitarian values, 94; Iraq, 102; Rwanda, 210; vetoes cast, 99; Yugoslavia, former, 115-118 Self-determination doctrine, 18-19 Self-rule, preparation for, 74 Serbia, 18, 37, 111-112, 114-124 Shanghai, 71-72 Sihanouk, Prince Norodom, 127, 128 Silesia, Upper, 73 Slovakia, 38 Slovenia, 18, 110-112, 114 Social structures, traditional, 40 Sociological nature of authority, 85 Somalia, 151-153; child/infant mortality rates in, 158-160; conclusions on, 166-169; consent of various factions in, 58; famine, 22; food shipments to, 160-161; health and social fabric of, 153; human impact of crisis in, 157-163; humanitarian enterprises, 98, 156-163; institutional parameters and dimensions of conflict, 154, 156; intracomrnunal violence, 52-53; media, 208; military intervention, 163166; mortality rates, 158-160; nutritional status of children in, 160; pre-1991 context, 153-154; second generation experiments, 81-82; socioeconomic background on, 153; weapons to, 21 South Mrica, 78-80 Soviet Union, former: colonial policies, critical of, 74; humanitarian enterprises, 97; new types of armed conflict, 41; possible future armed conflicts, 34; predisposing factors underlying armed conflict in, 35-37; proximate causes of armed conflict in, 37-40; Russia's role in

230

INDEX

post-Soviet anned conflicts, 41-44; Second World category, 31-32; survey of anned conflicts in, 32-34; Trieste, 75; Yugoslavia, former, 113 Spain, 182 Special Representative of the SecretaryGeneral (SRSG), 78 Sri Lanka, 46 State(s): building, 13-14, 17-19, 24, 27, 3637; -centrism, 90, 201-203; failed, 19-22, 25,39,96,196 StateofCambodia(SOC), 127, 132,137-138 Successful peacekeeping operations, 61-62 Sudan,22,97 Superpower involvement, 13-15, 17-18,2122,27,175 Taiwan, 17 Tajikistan, 32-34, 39, 42, 44, 194 Tatarstan, Republic of, 35 Thailand, 131, 144 Third World, 27; Cold War, end of, 17-19; failed states and international norms, 1922; future, looking towards the, 24-26, 194-195; humanitarian intervention, 2324; quasi-states in, 20; relevance of concept/category, 15-17; state making, 13-14 Tito, Marshal Josip, 37 Totalitarianism, collapse of, 31 Traditional structures and informal networks, 156-157 Transcaucasus,the,32,34 Transition period for civil governance-in-trust, 84-85 Triage, 95, 193 Tribunal Supremo Electoral (TSE) in El Salvador, 186, 187-188 Trieste, 75 Truth Commission in E1 Salvador, 182, 186 Ukraine, 34, 45 UN Centre for Human Rights, 92-93 UN Development Programme (UNDP), 9192, 154; evolution of, 92 UN Disaster Relief Office (UNDRO), I 0 I UN Disengagement Observer Force (UNDOF) on Golan Heights, 58 UN Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), 93 UN Good Offices Mission in Mghanistan and Pakistan (UNGOMAP), 78 UN High Commissioner for Refugees

(UNHCR): Cambodia, 130, 141; Central America, 177; El Salvador, 179, 186; evolution in, 92; human rights, 202; mandate of, 91; Yugoslavia, former, 60, 121-123 Unified Task Force (UNITAF) in Somalia, 53, 154,156,164,208 UN industrial Development Organization (UNlDO), 93 UN international Children's Emergency Fund (UNICEF), 91, 92, 154 United Nations: buffer zone experiences, 55; integrationist/insulationist approaches, 99-101; post-Soviet peacekeeping, 44-46; structural problems, 89-91 United States: Balkans, 18; boundaries, global, 20; Cambodia, 127-128, 129; colonial policies, critical of, 74; commissions, establishing, 72; compassion fatigue, 193; El Salvador, 173, 175-178, 182, 186; future, looking towards the, 209-210; humanitarian enterprises, 97; Rwanda, 45; Trieste, 75; weapons to Somalia, 164, 165; Yugoslavia, former, 109, 120, 123; Zaire, 22 United States Agency for international Development (USAlD), 184, 186 UN Observer Group in Central America (ONUCA), 178 UN Observer Mission in El Salvador (ONUSAL), 181, 183-188; divisions of, 183 UN Observer Mission to Verify the Electoral Process in Nicaragua (ONUVEN), 178 UNPROFOR. See UN Protection Force in former Yugoslavia UN Protected Areas (UNPAs), 115-116 UN Protection Force (UNPROFOR) in former Yugoslavia, 60, 116-119, 122, 124 UNTAC. See UN Transitional Authority in Cambodia UN Temporary Executive Authority (UNTEA), 76-77 UN Transitional Authority in Cambodia (UNTAC): civil administration controlled by, 133-138; Complaints and investigation Service, 134, 135; conclusions on, 144-146; Defense Service, 134-135; elections, verifying, 130; Finance Service, 135, 136; multidimensional peacekeeping, 129; Paris Agreements of 1991, 131; Provincial Coordination Office, 135, 137; Public Affairs Service, 134; Public

INDEX

Security Service, 136-137; second generation experiments, 80-81; Specialized Control Service, 135; successes/ failures of, 131-144, 198 UN Transition Assistance Group (UNTAG), 78-79 Urquhart, Brian, 52, 56 Uzbekistan, 32, 34, 42, 44 Vance, Cyrus, 114, 116, 120 Venezuela, 175, 182 Vietnam, 127-129, 131, 140 Watson Institute for International Studies, 56 Weakness of civil society, 36 Weapon sales/deliveries, 14--15, 17,21-22, 151, 164--165 Western European Union (WEU), 109, 206 Western Judeo-Christian culture, 85 Western Sahara, 81

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World Bank, 93,207 World Food Programme (WFP), 92, 162 World Health Organization (WHO), 91, 92 World War I, 72 Yeltsin, Boris, 41 Yugoslavia, former, 109-110; border issues, 38; conclusions on, 123-124; conflict, 110-113; ethnic cleansing, 37; failed mediation, 119-121; first generation experiments, 7 5; force level in, 57; humanitarian enterprises, 102, 121-123; human rights, 202; media, 208; peacekeeping, futile, 116-119; political ambiguities and reluctance, 115-116; preventative actions, 204; recognition issue, 114--115; regional institutions, 206 Zaire, 22, 210 Zamora, Ruben, 187

About the Book and the Editor

Despite a decade of UN-bashing and skepticism in many policy circles, the United Nations is now increasingly called upon to provide a combination of military, administrative, and humanitarian assistance in the midst of violent civil wars, as well as to negotiate with a host of belligerents. These operations, however, are neither what the UN founders had anticipated, nor the kind of effort in which the UN has previously been most successful. Moreover, the structure of the present, institutionally reformed UN system makes multifunctional operations particularly difficult. This book addresses these issues, exploring the conceptual linkages and recent experiences of UN multifunctional operations. The authors develop an analytical framework within which to situate recent UN efforts, examine the new operational challenges facing the organization, and provide case studies of UN activities in Cambodia, El Salvador, Somalia, and the former Yugoslavia. The concluding chapter considers the implications of the authors' findings for the future of UN efforts. THOMAS G. WEISS is associate director of the Thomas J. Watson Jr. Institute for International Studies and associate dean of faculty at Brown University. He is also executive director of the Academic Council on the United Nations System. Previously he held several UN posts and served as executive director of the International Peace Academy.

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Emerging Global Issues THOMAS G. WEISS, SERIES EDITOR

Third World Security in the Post-Cold War Era edited by Thomas G. Weiss and Meryl A. Kessler The Suffering Grass: Superpowers and Regional Coriflict in Southern Africa and the Caribbean edited by Thomas G. Weiss and James G. Blight State and Market in Development: Synergy or Rivalry? edited by Louis Putterman and Dietrich Rueschemeyer Collective Security in a Changing World edited by Thomas G. Weiss Humantarianism Across Borders: Sustaining Civilians in Times of War edited by Thomas G. Weiss and Larry Minear Changing Political Economies: Privatization in Post-Communist and Reforming Communist States edited by V edat Milor The Third World Security Predicament: State Making, Regional Conflict, and the International System Mohammed Ayoob The United Nations and Civil Wars edited by Thomas G. Weiss

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