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16 Days Activism Against GBV Series| Pursuing Justice for Survivors of CRSV in Ukraine: Gender and Intersectionality Considerations

Since the first recognition of conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) by the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY)  in its jurisprudence Furundžija) to the recognition of gender as a ground for persecution by the International Criminal Court [para 936], International Criminal Law (ICL) has increasingly addressed CRSV, but there is still a long way to go. Inspired by the ICL Conference on Gender Justice and through the application of a feminist and intersectional lens, Katerina Lefkidou examines current challenges in addressing CRSV in Ukraine.

 

Photo by Jan Kopřiva on Unsplash

 

Conflict Related Sexual Violence (CRSV) in Ukraine

As CRSV increasingly calls for accountability mechanisms shaped through converging feminist, intersectional, and survivor-centered approaches, Ukraine appears to be a State that is at least willing to listen. With the adoption of Law 4067-IX in 2025, which provides CRSV survivors with interim reparations, and through the development of new Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs) for the investigation and prosecution of CRSV, some steps are being taken in the right direction. However, a closer look shows that many issues remain unsolved. Since the full-scale invasion in February 2022, 385 CRSV investigations have been opened by the Ukrainian Office of the Prosecutor General, with 21 individuals  convicted. Other international actors report higher numbers, which keep rising. However, these 21 convictions (mainly direct perpetrators), are a result of approximately 10 cases, which is quite low considering the reported figures.

Two main situations have been identified where CRSV has been systematically used by Russian forces throughout the conflict: 1) during house searches or forced visits carried out in occupied areas, and 2) as a form of torture against individuals detained, both civilians and prisoners of war (POWs), in “filtration points” and official/unofficial detention facilities. In the first case, most victims are women and girls; in the latter, the majority of survivors have been men [para 47]. Nevertheless, only cases of CRSV concerning women and girls have reached decisions in criminal proceedings.  CRSV has been especially prevalent against Ukrainian POWs; 119 out of the 169 interviewed by the United Nations Human Rights Monitoring Mission in Ukraine reported having experienced CRSV [para 30].

Challenges in reporting CRSV in Ukraine and gender roles

According to the International Independent Commission of Inquiry on Ukraine, CRSV is under-reported in the conflict, and survivors are reluctant to speak out due to gender stereotypes, religious and family considerations, and stigma, especially in rural areas [para 630]. Incidents have been reported where survivors were treated disrespectfully by authorities and then consequently withdrew their complaints [para 93]. The recently launched platform “Було так” (“It Happened This Way”) created by Ukrainian Women Lawyers Association “JurFem” for survivors to share their experiences, particularly with law enforcement, also indicates the urgency of this problem. Further, survivors have even fled their home or even the country due to fear of stigma and blame from close ones and broader society, or reprisals from the Russian authorities. Additional obstacles include the harmful re-enforcement of gender stereotypes and stigma in CRSV media coverage [paras 630-636].

Bias shaped through gender roles—such as the culture of victim blaming, which especially affects women—has emerged in various examples. In Bucha, a woman who was raped by Russian soldiers to prevent the rape of her 13-year old daughter, later faced stigmatization and was even investigated for collaboration with the Russian forces. The gender paradigm shapes the stigma for male survivors, too. As reported by the All Survivors Project, Ukrainian culture often depicts men as defenders and fighters. Acts of CRSV challenge this sense of masculinity, making men less likely to disclose their trauma for fear it will be perceived as a sign of “weakness,” incompatible with traditional gender expectations. According to the Commission of Inquiry, men are more inclined to report torture without the sexual aspects [para 632]. Gender stereotypes also influence investigators, who frequently do not ask questions about potential CRSV when interviewing male victims of violence. Social perception of sexual identity is also relevant. The Russian Federation has exploited the cultural prejudice against LGBTQI+ people by actively seeking out LGBTQI+ people as targets of CRSV, and by systematically employing CRSV against non LGBTQI+ males. Consequently, male survivors of CRSV are branded as “weak” and “unnatural”, not in line with the role of “strong, straight, cisgender male.”

Intersectional dimension of CRSV

As long established by feminist theory, sexual violence is not an expression of sexual desire, but a means of conveying dominance, relying on the enforcement of rigidly defined gender roles. Furthermore, it is rooted in structural inequalities, and gender is not the only relevant variable. Socioeconomic status, for example, plays a key role in the commission, reporting, investigation, prosecution, and outcome of CRSV cases. Engagement with accountability mechanisms is only possible if basic needs of survivors are covered [para 634]. Poverty enhances vulnerability; survivors have often endured CRSV as a means for survival and may not even be able to identify that what has happened to them may qualify as CRSV.  An example presents the  experience of a woman in Kherson province, who, during the Russian occupation, moved in with a man for safety and protection. He instead exploited her and ultimately facilitated her rape by Russian soldiers.

Conclusion

A clear understanding of how gender norms, and other underlying factors of discrimination are manifested in Ukrainian society is paramount in order to fully address CRSV perpetrated in Ukraine. As reiterated throughout the conference, advancing gender justice requires holistic policy reforms that go beyond supporting domestic justice and include education and awareness efforts around gender bias aimed at collective societal change. Further, many survivors still require support to come forward and, ultimately, seek justice. It is vital that Ukraine continues its efforts in this area to pursue accountability for the full scope of CRSV crimes resulting from the Russian occupation and the ongoing armed conflict.

 

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

Katerina Lefkidou

Katerina Lefkidou holds an LL.M. in International Human Rights Law from the University of Groningen. Her research interests include themes such as gender justice, equality and reproductive rights. She is a qualified lawyer, registered with the Athens Bar Association.

 

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From mayhem to momentum: How a week of protest changed Nepal forever

In this blog, ISS MA Student, Sagar Jung Karki looks into the rise and success of the 2025 ‘Gen Z’ protests in Nepal, that grew into a society-wide protest movement against corruption in the Nepali government. The protests eventually ended with Nepali Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli stepping down. Sagar Jung Karki looks into the way that the protests developed, the reasoning behind their rise, and looks at what may happen in the coming months and years following the protests.

 

Caption: AI- Generated Abstract Simulation of Singha Durbar palace in Kathmandu on September 9, 2025

Introduction

In less than a week, the Generation Z (Gen Z) protests in Nepal toppled the government, dissolved the parliament and installed the country’s first female prime minister. This was more than a protest; it was a generational awakening that refined Nepalese politics. Moreover, the movement serves as a valuable case study for examining how conflict and development theories explain the tensions and aspirations driving it.

 

Causes of the Gen Z protest

The Gen Z protest that swept Nepal from 8 to 13 September 2025 became a defining moment in the nation’s history. It was partly inspired by similar youth movements in Bangladesh, Indonesia and Sri Lanka. The protest deeply resonated with youths like myself in a country where power had switched between three entrenched political parties that had been ruling for decades. There were three main reasons for the upheaval. First, there is the rampant corruption, in a country with extremely high levels of inequality. Multiple corruption scandals were exposed by the media in recent years, including the fake Bhutanese refugee scam, the visit visa scam, the airplane purchase scam, and the Baluwatar land scam. These recurring scandals led to growing despair, especially among youths. Secondly, 26 social media platforms like Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube were completely banned on 4 September after being unable to register in the country.  Most of the Nepali population, specifically the youth, used these platforms for daily communication. Defying suppression and the gag on their freedom of speech and expression, the youths turned to Virtual Private Networks (VPNs) to criticize the politicians and their Nepotism Kids’ (also known as Nepo Kids)as well as plan the protests. In the days before the protest, social media was filled with content mocking politicians’ families for flaunting wealth while ordinary people struggled to make a living. Third, another significant trigger for the protest was the viral video of a provincial minister’s car hitting a little girl on a zebra crossing and escaping the scene. These series of events forced the Nepali youths to march to the streets in protests hoping for change.

Source: Context News

The aftermath of the protest

The protest initially began peacefully with college students, youth activists and others protesting in designated areas. But the calm was shattered when police opened fire and killed 19 protesters. The next day, the demonstration intensified into vandalism and anarchy with key national assets – including the parliament, presidential residence and supreme court. Most of the politicians’ homes and properties across the country were destroyed. In addition, supermarkets, hotels, showrooms, and other public spaces sustained extensive damage. While many fled to hideouts with military help, some politicians narrowly escaped death at the hands of the youth mob.

Following mass pressure, Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli resigned on 9 September, creating a leadership vacuum. The following day, amidst the curfew, the youths trusted the army to restore order. The next day, amidst nationwide curfew, the army chief held talks with the president and Gen Z representatives. That evening, the youths used online voting via Discord to nominate former Chief Justice Sushila Karki as Nepal’s first female prime minister following the president’s approval. By 13 September, life returned to normal in Kathmandu and across the nation; however, there were 74 fatalities and an estimated financial damage of US$21 billion and left 10,000 people out of work. This has made the protest a tragic yet transformative moment in the nation’s history.

 

What this means for Nepal’s future

Elections for the House of Representatives have been announced for 5 March 2026, despite the opposition of the old parties. However, there are lingering questions about how the elections and the future unfold and whether the changes demanded by the protesters are formalized and institutionalized. Many youths, including the founder of Hami Nepali, have shown interest in contesting the election. For formal representation, however, Gen Z will need the formulation of new political parties and secure an election majority. This will be a difficult and time-consuming process, given the rural stronghold of the three old parties. There is another challenge as the old parties still hold a majority in the provincial and local government levels. Beyond politicians, addressing governance malpractices will require a range of institutional changes in bureaucracy and paradigm shifts in cultural practices. Such changes will take time, but for now, all eyes are fixed on the upcoming elections and whether Gen Z-led political parties will gain the majority to form a government.

Key Takeaways

At its heart, the Gen Z protest in Nepal was more than a political outburst, it was a clash between generations, power, and unmet promises. Political Scientist Henrik Urdal’s analysis of ‘youth bulges’ can be better understood through the lens of Conflict theory helps explain this tension. When a large youth population feels excluded from decision-making and struggles with economic insecurity, frustration builds. Nepal’s young people, digitally connected and politically aware, turned that frustration into collective action. Social media became their loudspeaker, uniting scattered voices into a nationwide movement. Ironically, government attempts to suppress dissent only confirmed the protesters’ belief that their leaders were out of touch, echoing conflict theory’s idea that repression often fuels, rather than calms, public anger.

From a development perspective, Nepal’s story reflects the tension between a weak state and a strong society. Years of corruption and poor governance weakened institutions, but civil society, especially youth groups, showed remarkable resilience. Organisations like Hami Nepal and online communities stepped up where the state faltered, proving that civic energy can fill governance gaps. Yet, as development theories reminds us, activism alone cannot replace institutional reform. The army’s temporary role in stabilising the situation showed both the trust citizens still have in traditional institutions and the fragility of democratic systems that depend on them.

Ultimately, Nepal’s Gen Z reminded the world that even in fragile democracies, young people can reshape political landscapes. Their protests were not just about anger, they were about reclaiming voice and accountability. For policymakers, the message is simple: when states fail to listen, societies speak louder.

Across Asia, and beyond, similar Gen Z movements are emerging, digitally savvy, and justice-driven. Among the countries experiencing crises and catastrophes, some have recovered and transitioned, while others have continued to suffer. It is yet to be seen whether these upheavals will bring in the demanded changes in the countries or fail to do so.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

 

About the author:

Sagar Karki

Sagar Jung Karki is a current MA in Development Studies student at the International Institute for Social Studies (ISS), specializing in Economics of Development (ECD). He previously worked for think tanks on development consulting projects in Nepal. His research interests are trade and investment policies, sustainability, globalization and development.

 

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Society Must Be Defended! Rethinking Defence and Security in the age of Cognitive Warfare and the WPS Agenda

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In his 1975–76 lecture series at the Collège de France, Michel Foucault famously declared, ‘Society must be  defended’. While framed within the context of biopolitics and the genealogy of state violence, this provocation has found renewed relevance in the 21st century as new forms of warfare emerge. Today, the greatest threats to societies are not only kinetic or territorial but epistemic and cognitive. Cognitive warfare – an increasingly salient form of conflict – operates by targeting perception, social cohesion and identity, often exploiting the fault lines of gender, race, and class, to undermine collective resilience.

Photo Credit: United Nations

This blog post explores how NATO’s instrumental engagement with the Women, Peace and Security (WPS) Agenda intersects with these new threat environments. Despite normative commitments to inclusion, NATO’s implementation of WPS remains structurally tethered to operational efficiency and military effectiveness, rather than transformative gender justice. The rise of cognitive warfare, which thrives on polarization and symbolic manipulation, underscores the urgent need to reassess what it means to defend society. Rethinking defence in the cognitive age requires not merely stronger militaries but stronger democracies – and this is only possible by fully integrating marginalized voices, particularly women, into the foundations of security thinking and practice.

Cognitive Warfare: Targeting the social fabric

Cognitive warfare is a strategic practice that seeks to influence, destabilize and control the minds and behaviours of target populations through information manipulation, disinformation, psychological operations and narrative disruption. Unlike traditional warfare, its objective is not the destruction of infrastructure but the corrosion of shared meaning and societal coherence. In this form of conflict, the ‘battlespace’ is everyday life: news media, education systems, social media platforms and interpersonal trust.

Actors – both state and non-state – engage in cognitive warfare to reshape identities, manipulate emotions and undermine public consensus. These operations often capitalize on gender, ethnic and ideological divisions to deepen internal discord. For example, campaigns may weaponize narratives about gender roles, women’s rights, or ‘wokeness’ to generate backlash, recruit supporters or delegitimize institutions. Importantly, cognitive warfare targets not just what people believe, but their capacity to believe ‘together’, fragmenting the cognitive unity that underpins democratic societies.

The challenge cognitive warfare presents to traditional security paradigms is profound. Institutions such as NATO, built on hierarchical, masculinized models of defence, remain structurally oriented toward external threats, kinetic action and deterrence. However, when societies themselves become the battleground – through misinformation, distrust and symbolic violence – conventional tools fall short. A broader, more inclusive understanding of what constitutes security and who is responsible for producing it becomes indispensable.

The WPS Agenda and NATO: Between inclusion and instrumentalization

Since the adoption of UN Security Council Resolution 1325 in 2000, the Women, Peace and Security (WPS) Agenda has sought to mainstream gender perspectives within security and peacebuilding processes. NATO, as one of the earliest international actors to adopt a WPS action plan, has made formal commitments to increasing women’s participation, integrating gender-sensitive policies and addressing conflict-related sexual violence. However, feminist critiques have consistently argued that NATO’s engagement with the WPS Agenda has remained instrumental rather than transformative.

Rather than challenging militarized logics or hegemonic masculinity, NATO has largely used gender inclusion as a means of enhancing operational efficiency. Gender advisors, female engagement teams and gender training have been deployed to bolster mission success – particularly visible during operations in Afghanistan – without addressing the broader patriarchal structures of the alliance itself. Gender becomes a force multiplier, not a site of political transformation.

This approach not only limits the potential of the WPS Agenda but also creates vulnerabilities within the alliance. In an age of cognitive warfare, where legitimacy and perception are key, superficial inclusion can be co-opted or weaponized. Anti-gender movements, emboldened by populist and nationalist currents, have already begun to frame gender-sensitive policies as distractions from ‘real’ military priorities. Recent statements by US officials, such as Pete Hegseth’s denunciation of the WPS programme as ‘woke’, reflect a broader backlash against gender equality within defence institutions.

Such politicization renders NATO’s fragile engagement with WPS even more precarious. It also highlights a core contradiction: an institution that seeks to defend democratic societies cannot afford to marginalize the very constituencies that embody those democratic values. In failing to fully embrace gender justice, NATO not only undermines its own legitimacy but also cedes ideological ground to actors who seek to destabilize democratic cohesion through cognitive means.

The intersection of cognitive warfare and WPS reveals the limitations of a security architecture premised on traditional threat-response frameworks. Defence, in this context, cannot merely be about protecting borders or building military capacity. It must involve cultivating epistemic resilience, narrative sovereignty and social inclusion.

Women’s participation is not just normatively important – it is strategically essential. Excluding or tokenizing women undermines collective intelligence and leaves societies vulnerable to the very divisions cognitive warfare exploits. Conversely, including women in meaningful, leadership-level roles across security institutions expands the range of perspectives, narratives and strategies available to resist cognitive incursions.

Moreover, feminist security thinking – rooted in care, relationality and structural critique – offers tools for reimagining defence beyond violence. It prompts us to ask: What are we defending? Whose society is being protected? And how do we define threat in the first place? These are not ancillary questions but central ones in an age when the terrain of conflict is symbolic, social and affective.

To truly defend society, institutions must undergo epistemic transformation – not just integrate more women, but reconfigure how knowledge is produced, valued and operationalized. This involves dismantling the false binary between hard and soft security, and recognizing that resilience against cognitive warfare begins with inclusion, trust and equity.

Rethinking defence: Defending democracy from within

In light of these dynamics, it is time to revisit Foucault’s challenge: ‘Society must be defended’ – but how? The answer lies not in a return to fortress mentalities or reactive militarism, but in a proactive commitment to inclusive, democratic resilience. In the face of cognitive warfare, defending society means defending its pluralism, its capacity for critical thought and its inclusive institutions. It means moving beyond tokenistic gender inclusion toward structural empowerment.

NATO and other security actors must rethink what constitutes strength. In the long run, it is not military hardware but social cohesion, narrative legitimacy and institutional trust that will determine whether societies withstand the assaults of cognitive conflict. Women are not auxiliary to this project – they are central to it. As the global security landscape evolves, so too must our understanding of defence. In an age where societies themselves are the battlefield, the imperative is not only to defend, but to transform. And that transformation begins by taking seriously the voices, knowledges and futures that have long been sidelined.

 

This blog post is based on the authors’ presentations delivered at the Pre-NATO Summit event at De Haagse Hogeschool / The Hague University of Applied Sciences on 5h June 2025.

 

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the authors

Shyamika Jayasundara-Smits

Shyamika Jayasundara-Smits is an Associate Professor in Conflict and Peace Studies at ISS/Erasmus University Rotterdam. She is a transdisciplinary researcher specializing in Political Science, with expertise in International Relations and Critical Peace and Conflict Studies. Her research and teaching focuses on the intersections of governance, development, armed conflict, post-war transitions, and peacebuilding.

Bilge Sahin

Bilge Sahin  is an Assistant Professor of Conflict and Peace Studies at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS), Erasmus University Rotterdam. Her teaching and research explore the complex intersections of gender, sexuality, war, and security.

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A clash of peace(s)? Feminist-decolonial reckoning with extractive disarmament, demobilisation, and reintegration (DDR) programmes in Africa

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Conventional Disarmament, Demobilisation, and Reintegration (DDR) frameworks in Africa remain limited by masculinist and colonial legacies that marginalise the knowledge of African women’s and their lived realities. In this blog, visiting International Institute of Social Studies (ISS) researcher, Esther Beckley advances a feminist-decolonial intervention that centres women’s knowledge as indispensable to reimagining peacebuilding beyond militarised and exclusionary paradigms. This shift is essential for achieving effective peace processes.

Photo by Alessandro Armignacco on Unsplash

“We are not firing guns, but we are not at peace”. This sentiment, echoed by one of the women I encountered in Liberia during my PhD field research in 2022, encapsulates a critical challenge in “post-conflict” Africa. More than two decades have passed since the adoption of United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325 on Women, Peace and Security (WPS), which prioritised women’s protection and participation in conflict and its aftermath. Hailed as a landmark in recognising women’s experiences of war and contributions to peace, the resolution laid the groundwork for gender-sensitive peacebuilding frameworks worldwide, including Disarmament, Demobilisation, and Reintegration (DDR) programmes.

Yet, in Africa, where histories of conflict and resistance continue to shape present realities, these frameworks remain largely extractive, technical, and blind to African women’s lived realities.   They are extractive because they use women’s stories to fit donor agendas without truly listening to their needs. They are technical, relying on rigid checklists that ignore the complex ways women build peace daily. They are blind to the plural forms of African women’s peacebuilding that do not fit Western stereotypes. This creates a gap between peacebuilding frameworks and the real lives of the women they aim to support. This way, women’s agency is not only marginalised but actively erased through peacebuilding paradigms that are masculinist in design and colonial in logic.

In this article, I offer a feminist-decolonial reckoning with DDR in Africa – one that challenges the colonial roots and gender biases of these processes, and centres the voices and realities of African women so often ignored. Drawing on examples from Sierra Leone, Nigeria, Liberia, and the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), I reflect on how DDR processes continue to operate through narrow definitions of combatant identity, exclusionary disarmament criteria, and a persistent inability to value women’s plural and communal approaches to peace. Beyond the question of inclusion, I ask: Which kinds of peace are being imagined? Whose security is being prioritised? And what violence is rendered invisible in the process? Doing so allows for a deeper understanding of how African women’s experiences can reshape peacebuilding into a more just and grounded practice.

 

Beyond the rhetoric of inclusion: The limits of gender mainstreaming

Women in Africa have never been absent from conflict. In Sierra Leone, figures like “Adama cut hand” and “Krio Mammy” embodied a complex warrior identity, challenging the stereotype of women as passive victims of war. In northeastern Nigeria, the widespread use of girls as suicide bombers by Boko Haram reveals a calculated militarisation of girlhood. Likewise, in Goma, DRC, some of the women I encountered in 2022 spoke of occupying roles as commanders, platoon leaders, logistics coordinators, and so forth. Yet, DDR programmes across Africa have persistently treated women’s participation in conflict as anomalous or secondary.

The problem is not just one of oversight; it is structural. DDR programmes are designed around a narrow, militarised conception of combatant status – one that centres gun ownership, formal enlistment, and the ability to surrender arms as prerequisites for recognition. In this framework, women who served as spies, cooks, caregivers, sex slaves, or who fought using traditional weapons such as machetes or “juju” (voodoo) are not seen as legitimate ex-combatants. As a result, they are excluded from reintegration benefits and left to “self-reintegrate” without psychological, social, or economic support.

This exclusion is not incidental. It reflects the coloniality of peacebuilding, a system that privileges Western top-down models and masculinist understandings of war, while delegitimising the complex and fluid roles women occupy during and after conflict. In Sierra Leone, female fighters within the Kamajor Civil Defence Forces were left out of DDR processes because they did not fit the predefined mould of the disarmed soldier. In Nigeria, women affected by the Niger Delta insurgency and the counterinsurgency war in the Northeast were similarly marginalised by state-led peace initiatives such as the Presidential Amnesty Programme and Operation Safe Corridor. These programmes, despite being framed within WPS language, failed to acknowledge the socio-political and gendered dynamics that shape women’s experiences of conflict and recovery.

“Informal” peacebuilding as epistemic resistance

In the face of structural exclusion from formal peace processes, African women have long practised peacebuilding on their own terms, drawing from cultural knowledge(s), spiritual resilience, and communal solidarity. These practices, often unseen by dominant DDR frameworks, constitute powerful forms of epistemic resistance – challenging dominant knowledge systems and asserting their own ways of knowing and being. In this context, it represents women’s active resistance to the narrow definitions of peace and peacebuilding embedded in DDR programmes. They offer plural ways of knowing and doing peace, rooted in collective healing, intergenerational memory, and care.

Consider Liberia, where women’s movements, notably Women in Peacebuilding Network (WIPNET), mobilised mass actions combining Christian and Muslim prayer circles, sit-ins, song, and silent protest. Their methods, born out of necessity and resilience, may not have resembled conventional conflict resolution, but their impact was undeniable. Through everyday activism, they created political pressure that eventually helped end the war and paved the way for the election of Africa’s first female head of state. These practices disrupt the distinction made between victim and agent, public and private, formal and informal, reclaiming peace as a communal, ongoing process rather than a set of steps to be completed.

These forms of peacebuilding are not simply add-ons to liberal peace processes; they expose how the “peace” envisioned in DDR and WPS agendas often neglects the violences women continue to endure in “post-conflict” contexts: domestic violence, land dispossession, political exclusion, illiteracy, and trauma. As one of the women in Liberia told me, “The war is over, but our struggle is not”. Their activism around issues like drug abuse, domestic violence, and declining female political representation, though not always labelled “peacebuilding”, is deeply political and rooted in relational justice and survival.

By ignoring these practices, DDR programmes perpetuate epistemic injustice. They continue to treat peacebuilding as a domain of expertise held by international actors and armed men, rather than a relational, lived process in which women are already engaged. Feminist-decolonial approaches compel us to ask: Which forms of knowledge are recognised as legitimate? Who is authorised to speak, and whose voices remain unheard?

Towards feminist-decolonial peacebuilding

For DDR in Africa to be truly meaningful, it must abandon its masculinist, militarised, and top-down foundations. A feminist-decolonial approach demands a radical reimagining beyond the standard three-step process. Disarmament must extend beyond weapons to acknowledge women’s unique experiences of war, while demobilisation must ensure safety and inclusion for female ex-combatants. Reintegration requires holistic healing that is psychological, spiritual, and relational, not just economic support. Crucially, we must ask what peace and reintegration mean for women whose bodies were sites for warfare and survival or who bore the burdens of conflict without wielding arms.

Central to this transformation is recognising African women’s knowledges such as prayer, storytelling, rituals, and care as vital peacebuilding practices that challenge the liberal peace framework. Tokenistic gender mainstreaming falls short because DDR must confront colonial legacies that marginalise women’s political labour and exclude them from decision-making. Feminist-decolonial peacebuilding calls for fundamentally reimagining peace as justice, dignity, and relational repair, emerging from communities rather than institutions. This is not a tweak but a reckoning and a shift toward liberation grounded in voices too often forgotten.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

 

About the Author

Esther Beckley

Esther Beckley is a visiting research fellow at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS). Her PhD research centered the peacebuilding practices of indigenous women in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) and Liberia, learning how they navigate and reshape complex ‘postconflict’ environments within their communities. Grounded in a feminist-decolonial approach, her work challenges dominant colonial narratives that have long silenced these women’s voices, foregrounding the significance of their spiritual, relational, and communal methods of building peace. This research provides critical insights into the limitations of conventional Disarmament, Demobilisation and Reintegration (DDR) programmes and emphasises the need for more transformative and contextually grounded peace processes.

 

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Building Peace Through Time: Reflections on Post-Civil War Nigeria

Over fifty years later, the Nigerian Civil War, a pivotal conflict in the nation’s history, continues to influence contemporary discourse. The recent publication of A Journey in Service by former military Head of State General Ibrahim Babangida has reignited discussions on the war’s legacy and its enduring impact. In this Blog, ISS recent MA graduate, Emaediong Akpan explores the Civil War’s complexities, peacebuilding efforts, and the relevance of time in these processes. She highlights how historical narratives shape current realities and the lessons they offer for the future.

Source: Pixabay

Nigerian Civil War: Causes, Participants, and Casualties

The Nigerian Civil War was a violent conflict between Nigeria, led by General Yakubu Gowon, and the secessionist Republic of Biafra, led by Lt. Colonel Odumegwu Ojukwu (Late).  The war ensued after the breakdown of the Aburi accord, which was designed to promote inclusive governance, leading the Igbos to lose faith in the possibility of existing together as a nation.

The war lasted about 30 months and resulted in the death of approximately two million civilians. There are several accounts of the Nigerian civil war. These accounts often have ethnic, political, and colonial undertones in their presentation of the root causes, the judgment of its outcomes, and the peacebuilding efforts. However, it is important to note that the root causes of the war are numerous. It begins with a colonial history that forced diverse nations with distinct cultures, languages, and identities into a single entity known as Nigeria.

Relevant political causes of the war include the coup on July 15, 1966, which resulted in the deaths of several northern leaders. This event fostered the perception of ethnic motives behind the coup, leading to widespread violence, looting, and a mass exodus of Igbos back to the south.

In the aftermath, Aguiyi Ironsi, the new military leader and an Igbo man, was overthrown and assassinated in another coup led by northern military officers. This coup further exacerbated the ongoing ethnic tensions in Nigeria, as the northern and southeastern regions clashed over power and representation. Ironsi’s removal marked a significant shift in leadership, replacing him with Lieut. Col. (later Gen) Yakubu Gowon, a northerner.

The Relationship Between Time and Peacebuilding


a. The Role of Time in Lasting Peace


In building peace, there is often an expectation for warring parties to negotiate and leave the past behind. Even the Bible says, “do not remember the former things, nor consider the things of old” (Isaiah 43:18). However, peace scholar John Paul Lederach argues that sustainable peace requires acknowledging historical grievances

For those who experienced conflict firsthand, history remains influential in shaping perspectives and interactions. If peace initiatives fail to account for these lived experiences and address root causes, peace remains fragile and susceptible to renewed tensions. The post-war experience of the Igbos illustrates this dynamic; economic hardship, loss of property, and exclusion from federal positions created lasting grievances that were not adequately addressed.

b. There is No Prescription for Peace


Usually, people impose their own ideas of peace on others. In navigating the transition from crisis to a peaceful future, it is crucial to avoid essentialist views, allowing for creativity and acceptance that post-conflict, ‘peace’ may not be easily achieved. Recognizing and acknowledging the experiences of others opens opportunities to imagine a future together. The future is deeply intertwined with the past, forming a continuum where individuals remain connected to their experiences. Agonistic peace becomes relevant here because it fosters non-essentialist perspectives that unlock the creativity needed to imagine the future. It provides space for differences and resistance, holding transformative power.

However, a fixation on uniformity can hinder the healing process, driving a hasty disregard for differences in favor of assimilation. This ultimately ignores basic human needs and sets the stage for disaster. In Nigeria’s case, post-civil war peacebuilding prioritized national unity over addressing structural inequalities. This approach framed the preservation of “One Nigeria” as the primary goal, sidelining discussions of marginalization. The persistence of groups advocating for Biafra today reflects these lingering divisions.

Analysis of Time and Peacebuilding in the Nigerian Civil War

i. Gowon’s Reconciliation vs. Igbo Realities

Following the war, Lieut. Col. (later Gen) Yakubu Gowon introduced a policy of Reconciliation, Reconstruction, and Rehabilitation, ‘forgiving’ the secessionist state, assuming this approach would foster national cohesion. For Gowon, it was natural for peace to follow war, and forgiveness was key to achieving that. However, for the Igbos, peace was not a straightforward transition after war, and ‘forgiveness’ was not as significant to them. They believed that forgiveness was not Nigeria’s to grant; it belonged to them. Genuine forgiveness would require confronting historical events such as the forced amalgamation of Nigeria, coups, mass murders, and the disregard for the Aburi accord. Gowon’s actions thus led to a clash between immediate demands and historical narratives.

Post-war, Gowon focused on restoring the country’s unity, implying that the war’s aim was to preserve territorial integrity. The slogan during the war was, “to keep Nigeria one, is a task that must be done,” reinforcing the idea that Nigeria exemplifies a successful colonial legacy. Instead of fostering genuine peace, the policies adopted were more about maintaining a singular national narrative.

Governments often misunderstand the critical role of time in peacebuilding, focusing solely on the present without considering historical narratives. Gowon’s limited understanding of time caused him to concentrate on the most recent manifestation of conflict which was the civil war while ignoring the longstanding tensions that led to it.

ii. Nigeria Must Be One: Dictating Peace for Others

Violence does not occur in isolation; it is deeply embedded in broader power dynamics. This reality makes agonistic peace appealing, as it fosters the necessary objectivity for conflict transformation. Such transformation enables us to reimagine ‘enemies’ as opponents and ‘antagonism’ as difference, embracing resistance.

The enduring song, “Ojukwu wanted to separate Nigeria, But Gowon said Nigeria must be one…” which I learnt as a child echoes this sentiment and reinforces the belief that the Nigerian civil war was a “just war”. However, it also highlights the failure of Nigerian leaders to recognize that there was a time when the Igbos existed separately. It appears as if the leaders had forgotten this reality, leading to a forced unity.

The historical context I have provided illustrates how political actions transcend time and shape the future. Gowon’s prioritization of political stability over addressing historical grievances has fueled ongoing “structural dimensions of violence,” including the marginalization of Igbos and others aligned with Biafra long after the war ended. This prioritization creates a peace narrative that Mbembe describes as the ‘mutation of war’ that perpetuates violence even after conflict resolution.

In Nigeria, peacebuilding was coerced, and anyone or group who opposed the re-assimilation of all ethnic groups faced criminalization.

Conclusion: Reflections on Transformation

Peacebuilding is a commitment to the future, one that requires a reflective understanding of the past as its foundation. For the Igbos, the civil war is not just history; it is an enduring narrative that continues to shape their identity and lived experiences. Lt. Colonel Ojukwu and Biafra live on through the stories passed down to their children. The dominant narratives of the Nigerian civil war often overlooks the rich history of the Igbos, threatening their existence as a distinct community. To ensure their experiences are recognized, the stories of resilience, survival, and suffering must be told from their own perspective.

I acknowledge that these narratives may not guarantee peace, but it is a crucial step toward understanding the roots of conflict and transforming perceptions of enemies into opportunities for dialogue. A truly inclusive approach is essential for fostering reconciliation. This approach must embrace diverse narratives to address the historical complexities that continue to challenge national unity in Nigeria.

As long as Nigeria’s peacebuilding efforts remain primarily state-driven, these challenges will persist. A more inclusive framework, one that directly engages affected communities and meaningfully acknowledges historical grievances, may offer a more sustainable path forward.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

Emaediong Akpan

Emaediong Akpan is a legal practitioner, called to the Nigerian Bar in 2015. She recently graduated from the MA programme Development Studies with a specialization in Women and Gender Studies at the International Institute of Social Studies, Erasmus University Rotterdam. Read her blogs here 

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IHSA Annual Lecture Reflection: Counting the dead won’t save lives: looking beyond humanitarian disaster in Sudan

In this blog, Munzoul Assal, Professor at the universities of Khartoum and Bergen, and Scholar at risk the Chr Michelsen Institute provides an in-depth discussion of the long-term crisis and instability facing Sudan. He argues that in order to reach a better outcome for Sudanese people, we must look beyond the numbers and immediate outcomes of various atrocities and concentrate too on their origins. This contribution was given as a reflection upon the first Annual IHSA Lecture that took place in Bergen, Norway, in May 2024, and is part of a series around the theme ‘War and Humanity’.

Credit: Unsplash

A deeply divided country across multiple lines

Sudan has gone through decades of civil wars and political instability. Wars of competing visions have  developed into wars of attrition. Wars are first fought in people’s minds before being taken to the physical battlegrounds. For decades, Sudan has suffered from an identity crisis, which to me is the root cause of wars in the country. There are of course triggering factors, and uneven development is one of them.

Divisions such as Arabs versus Africans, Christians versus Muslims, ‘Patriotists’ versus ’Traitors’, etc. have dominated political discourse in post-independence Sudan. The different ruling elites, military and civilian alike, pursued policies of “unity in conformity” instead of “unity in diversity”. It has been held that the Sudanese should conform to an Arab and Muslim identity when in fact the country is quite diverse in terms of religion, ethnicity, climate, and livelihoods systems! Persons deemed not conforming to Arab and Muslim identity are alienated or discriminated against in different ways in public institutions or at best considered outliers. Media institutions, too, do not reflect the rich diversity characteristic of Sudan.

As early as the mid-1950s, people in the South, Eastern Sudan, and Darfur raised objections to the state’s policies that marginalize peripheral areas. The first war started in 1955, one year before independence, and continued for 17 years. It was ended by the Addis Ababa Agreement in 1972 and there was relative peace for 10 years. War started again in 1983 and before it was put to an end by the Comprehensive Peace Agreement signed in 2005 between the government and Southern Sudanese rebels, war then started in Darfur. And the rest is history. But not quite so!

Competing narratives to frame the current conflict

It does not make a lot of sense to talk about death and destruction in Sudan as results of the current war that has been raging for over a year and a half. That is what wars are about anyway. Since the start of the conflict between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) in April 2023, about 11.7 million people have been forcibly displaced within Sudan and to neighboring countries. In Khartoum alone, 61,000 persons were killed. The total number across the country is 150,000. Death, displacement, and destruction of infrastructure should alert us to look beyond these numbers. Wars have their own histories that need to be narrated.

When this current devastating war started in April 2023, the Sudanese society had already been divided along ethnic, regional, and religious-ideological; in addition to political divisions that cut across other divisions. Competing narratives are used to describe the current war, such as:

  1. This is a war between two armies: the RSF reneged on its commitments and wanted to seize power unconstitutionally,
  2. This is a war between a regular army and a militia,
  3. This is a war between those who want to see Sudan transition to democracy and those who want dictatorship,
  4. This is a war between Western Sudan and Riverine Sudan,
  5. This is an external invasion supported by the UAE,
  6. This is a war orchestrated by the Islamists who used Sudan Armed Forces to get back to power,

Social and conventional media are the platforms in which these competing narratives are debated. Heated exchanges between political antagonists take place in these platforms leading to the prevalence of hate speech. The widespread looting and killings carried out by the RSF, and the indiscriminate bombing carried out by SAF, plus ethnic targeting and profiling undertaken by SAF’s military intelligence and security services compound the dire humanitarian situation and deepen interethnic hostilities.

Linking competing narratives to historical conflict

The discourse that portrays the war as conflict between Western Sudan and the rest of the country is entwined with middle class predilection of linking the current war to the Mahadist period (1881-1898) that witnessed widespread atrocities in central Sudan. This narrative ethnicizes the war and emphasizes divisions fed by post-independence political failures including uneven development, discrimination, and marginalization of peripheral areas in Sudan, like Darfur, South Kordofan, and the Blue Nile. These areas are currently active war zones and witness deteriorating humanitarian conditions.

It is ironic that the most vocal segments of the Sudanese society (the privileged, educated middle class who have access to media outlets and the international community) about atrocities and the worsening humanitarian situation are the same people who contribute to the reproduction of violence through hate speech, calling for the elimination of foes, and resisting calls for stopping the war. Yet, there are those who are working hard to confront this dire situation. In fact, the humanitarian discourse although prevalent in the Global North’s media is developed in places like Sudan. For instance, much of what comes in the media is provided by first responders and emergency rooms that cater for the immediate need of victims in the war zone. It is important to look at the situation beyond numbers. Addressing the factors behind atrocities is no less important that tackling their consequences.

The deepening humanitarian situation makes everybody suspicious about everybody else. Neighbors do not trust each other, and people accuse each other of being snitches. When SAF recaptures an area from the RSF, it arrests, tortures, and kills those accused of being collaborators with the RSF. The targeting is on ethnic basis. When the RSF occupies an area, it targets those allegedly collaborating with SAF or Islamists loyal to the former regime of President Omer El-Bashir. These types of atrocities do not find their way to the media because revealing them would defeat the narratives of those behind them. Again, these acts widen ethnic cracks and contribute to worsening humanitarian conditions.

From humanity’s perspective, the top priority is to save lives and serve survivors of atrocities. This is work that must continue, but saving lives can be realized better by contributing to addressing the causes of atrocities, and not only by counting the dead. For Sudan, the tragic situation is not dealt with candidly at the present time. There is reporting about the deteriorating humanitarian situation, but the talk about numbers, relief, and justice  sweeps the issue of societal rifts under the rug. Perhaps something needs to be done here and now to uncover these rifts and their impacts.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the Author

Munzoul Assal

Munzoul Assal is professor of social anthropology at the universities of Khartoum and Bergen, and a scholar at risk at the Chr Michelsen Institute. His research areas include migration and refugee studies, conflict and peace building and citizenship. He is an honorary fellow of the Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland.

 

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Violences sexuelles et basées sur le genre : au-delà des crimes physiques (Sexual and Gender-Based Violence: looking beyond physical crimes)

November 25 is the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women, and to mark the day this blog has been written by Carolien Jacobs (Leiden University) Patrick Milabyo Kyamugusulwa (ISDR-Bukavu), and Rachel Sifa Katembera, all three members of the Humanitarian Observatory DRC. The authors argue throughout that it is important that we realise that sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV) consists of more than only sexual violence, it also includes structural violence that regulates justice. This is also the case in conflict-settings such as the east of the DRC, where a lot of attention goes to sexual violence.  Le 25 novembre est la Journée Internationale pour l’Élimination de la Violence à l’égard des Femmes. Pour marquer cette journée, ce blog a été rédigé par Carolien Jacobs (Université de Leiden), Patrick Milabyo Kyamugusulwa (ISDR-Bukavu), et Rachel Sifa Katembera, tous membres de l’Observatoire humanitaire de la République Démocratique du Congo (RDC). Les auteurs soutiennent qu’il est important de comprendre que les violences sexuelles et basées sur le genre (VSBG) ne se limitent pas seulement à la violence sexuelle, mais inclut également la violence structurelle qui régit la justice. C’est également le cas dans les situations de conflit comme à l’est de la RDC, où une grande attention est portée à la violence sexuelle. This blog was first published in English on Bliss
Photo by Authors
À une époque où le slogan « son corps, mon choix » gagne rapidement – ​​et malheureusement – ​​du terrain sur les réseaux sociaux, il est important que nous soyons conscients de l’éventail des crimes que constituent les violences sexuelles et basées sur le genre (VSBG) : il s’agit de bien plus que de simples violences sexuelles physiques. Depuis de nombreuses années, les violences sexuelles dans l’est de la République démocratique du Congo suscitent l’attention des médias, des donateurs internationaux et des académiques, en particulier lorsqu’elles sont commises par des groupes armés. En 2018, le Dr Denis Mukwege, gynécologue de renom, a reçu le prix Nobel de la paix pour ses « efforts visant à mettre fin à l’utilisation de la violence sexuelle comme arme de guerre et de conflit armé ». Bien que nous ne souhaitions en aucun cas nier ou minimiser la forte prévalence des violences sexuelles en RDC – comme l’a également montré Bilge Sahin, collègue de l’ISS –, nous aimerions utiliser ce blog pour attirer l’attention sur d’autres formes de violence structurelle dans de nombreux pays de notre monde patriarcal dominant. Ces formes de violence fondée sur le genre sont profondément ancrées dans les structures de la société, ce qui rend difficile pour les femmes (et les minorités) de revendiquer leurs droits et d’obtenir justice. Dans un précédent blog de cette série, Patrick Milabyo et Delu Lusambya ont déjà souligné l’importance de repenser les normes de la masculinité et de lutter contre la masculinité toxique. Dans ce blog, nous attirons l’attention sur deux formes de violence répandues qui touchent de manière disproportionnée les femmes dans l’est de la RDC, à savoir la violence liée aux conflits d’héritage et aux accusations de sorcellerie. Qu’est-ce qui est problématique dans ce cas ? À quels défis les femmes sont-elles confrontées lorsqu’elles cherchent à obtenir justice (étatique ou non) dans de telles situations ? Et que peut-on faire à ce sujet ? Droit de succession : décalage entre droit étatique et droit coutumier Selon le Code de la famille congolais, révisé en 2016, les femmes ont droit à une part similaire des biens de leurs parents après leur décès. Pourtant, dans la plupart des régions du pays, la coutume veut que seuls les héritiers masculins aient le droit d’hériter, alors que les filles restent souvent bredouilles, Ceci s’applique également aux enfants nés hors mariage, s’ils ont été reconnus par le défunt de son vivant. Ainsi, tous les enfants constituent la première catégorie d’héritiers (art. 758.1). Un problème similaire se pose pour le droit de succession des époux, qui est encore plus compliqué dans les mariages polygames et dans les mariages conclus uniquement sur une base religieuse ou coutumière. Cela signifie qu’en cas de décès du mari, sa famille réclame souvent les biens, la femme perdant tout, même si le partenaire survivant, les parents et les frères et sœurs du défunt sont tous des héritiers de deuxième catégorie selon le Code de la famille de la RDC (art. 758.2). S’il n’y a pas d’enregistrement officiel du mariage, les femmes dépendent des autorités coutumières pour appliquer le Code de la famille statutaire, mais ces autorités (plus souvent en milieu rural) adhèrent souvent plus fermement aux normes coutumières qui prescrivent la restitution des biens du couple à ses beaux-parents. Dans la pratique, nous constatons des efforts de la société civile pour sensibiliser les gens au Code de la famille et au droit des femmes à hériter à la fois en tant qu’épouses et en tant que filles. Pourtant, il reste courant que les familles divisent les biens uniquement entre les hommes, les filles et les épouses étant souvent perdantes. Accusations de sorcellerie Partout en Afrique, les États ont du mal à trouver des moyens de faire face à la sorcellerie et aux accusations de sorcellerie. Ce n’est pas différent en RDC, où l’État ne reconnaît pas l’existence de la sorcellerie, ni les menaces de sorcellerie (Dunn 2024). Les accusations de sorcellerie sont le plus souvent dirigées contre les femmes, en particulier les femmes âgées. Les accusations de sorcellerie sont des indicateurs de tensions et de méfiance dans les relations sociales. Même si de telles accusations manquent de preuves matérielles, elles sont difficiles à contre-attaquer pour la personne accusée. Les autorités locales (étatiques et non étatiques) n’ont souvent pas le pouvoir de traiter de telles accusations et d’apaiser les tensions, et les victimes de (fausses) accusations ne peuvent pas recourir à un cadre juridique pour faire face à ces accusations. Par mesure de protection, nous constatons que les femmes accusées sont parfois expulsées de leurs communautés, voire placées en détention pour les protéger de la « justice populaire ». Les « recours » proposés par la police et d’autres services de l’État portent donc encore plus atteinte à leurs droits et risquent de transformer les femmes accusées en doubles victimes. En quête de justice pour la violence basée sur le genre sous toutes ses formes Les femmes de l’est de la RDC sont touchées de manière disproportionnée par les injustices liées aux litiges successoraux et aux accusations de sorcellerie. Pour le premier type d’injustices, un cadre juridique approprié existe, mais son application est en contradiction avec la pratique quotidienne dans de nombreux endroits, plus particulièrement en milieu rural, même lorsque la connaissance juridique des droits des femmes en matière d’héritage existe. Les accusations de sorcellerie sont plus difficiles à traiter dans les cadres juridiques et rationnels de la justice étatique, mais les solutions actuelles recherchées par les autorités font encore plus de mal. En résumé, nous soutenons que même si les institutions judiciaires étatiques sont accessibles, des facteurs sociétaux peuvent encore entraver la reconnaissance des droits des femmes et perpétuer la violence basée sur le genre. La sensibilisation juridique et la promotion d’un changement de culture sont toutes deux nécessaires pour surmonter les conflits entre les droits humains et les pratiques culturelles qui désavantagent les femmes. Bien que nous nous concentrions ici sur la RDC, des exemples de violence basée sur le genre peuvent être trouvés dans le monde entier. Ne restons pas silencieux à ce sujet et reconnaissons que la VSBG ne se limite pas seulement aux VS ! Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

Auteurs :

Carolien Jacobs
Carolien Jacobs est professeure assistante à l’Université de Leiden et mène des recherches en collaboration avec le Centre des sciences sociales pour le développement Africain-KUTAFITI.
Patrick Milabyo Kyamusugulwa
Patrick Milabyo Kyamusugulwa est professeur à l’Institut supérieur des techniques médicales de Bukavu, en République démocratique du Congo (RDC). Il est membre de l’Observatoire humanitaire de la RDC et membre du Centre des sciences sociales pour le développement Africain-KUTAFITI.
Rachel
Rachel Sifa Katembera est chercheuse au Centre des sciences sociales pour le développement Africain-KUTAFITI et membre de l’Observatoire humanitaire de la RDC. Ce blog est basé sur des recherches empiriques menées par les auteurs sur l’accès à la justice dans l’est de la RDC dans le cadre de l’Alliance Just Future.   Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.

This blog is part of the  Humanitarian Governance: Accountability, Advocacy, Alternatives’ project. This project has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme under grant agreement No. 884139

US Congress backs diaspora-driven efforts for Tamil self-determination

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On 15 May 2024, US Congressman Wiley Nickel introduced House Resolution 1230, which addresses long-standing grievances of the Tamil community. Endorsed by over 50 Tamil diaspora organisations worldwide, the resolution symbolises hope amid frustration over Sri Lanka’s lack of accountability. Although its path to becoming law is uncertain, the resolution reflects shifting geopolitical dynamics and marks a significant moment in US policy regarding the Tamil diaspora’s pursuit of self-determination. With a new president in place, Sri Lanka may also have the opportunity to reshape its approach to the Tamil question. In this blog, Shyamika Jayasundara-Smits delves into the potential impacts and wider implications of this resolution.

Source: East Asia Forum

On 15 May 2024, US Congressman Wiley Nickel introduced House Resolution 1230, marking the latest congressional effort to address the long-standing grievances of the Tamil people. The resolution recognises the hundreds of thousands of lives lost during Sri Lanka’s nearly 30-year long armed conflict. It also seeks to ensure nonrecurrence of past violence, including the Tamil Genocide, by supporting the right to self-determination of Eelam Tamil people and their call for an independence referendum.

The resolution received moderate partisan support and was endorsed by over 50 Tamil diaspora organisations across fifteen countries who have been working to advance the Tamils’ quest for justice and self-determination. House Resolution 1230 certainly boosted the morale of the global human rights community and the Tamil diaspora, who have grown increasingly frustrated with Sri Lanka’s lack of accountability and have been torn between hope and despair under different US administrations and their allies.

The resolution emerged as the United States faces global scrutiny over its complicity in Israel’s genocidal violence in Gaza and for dragging its support in implementing a two-state solution. The resolution, though important for Tamils, underscores the double standards in US policy regarding justice and accountability for war crimes. While the demand for justice for Tamils is stronger than ever, the Tamil diaspora cannot expect much from the United States or most liberal Western states, given their diminishing moral authority.

House Resolution 1230 is a step forward in advancing the February 2023 declaration issued by six major US-based Tamil organisations urging the government to do the ‘right thing’. Dr Murugiah Muraleetharan — President of the Federation of Global Tamil Organizations — shared that ‘only by serving justice to the Tamils and returning their sovereignty, can peace and stability be established in the region. A permanent solution is important, and Independence Referendum is the democratic, peaceful and correct approach’.

Both the 2023 and 2024 resolutions clearly advocate for an internationally monitored independence referendum for Eelam Tamils, echoing the 1976 Vaddukoddai resolution introduced by Tamil political elites in Sri Lanka. The new resolution adopts a maximalist approach by reigniting hopes of securing an independent state. This approach can be viewed as a tactical manoeuvre within the current geopolitical landscape, which may not favour such a drastic measure. Instead, it seeks to advance achievable goals, such as addressing justice grievances, returning of land, promoting regional economic development and ensuring human rights.

One pertinent issue is how much pressure diaspora groups can exert on the United States and its allies to ensure Sri Lanka complies with human rights laws and is held accountable. This is especially crucial amid current US–China geopolitical contestations in the Indian Ocean, where Sri Lanka is viewed as an important ally to deter China’s influence.

Since the defeat of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam in May 2009 by the Government of Sri Lanka’s armed forces, a number of House Resolutions have been introduced. These have been accompanied by high-profile US-backed UNHCR resolutions calling for a credible investigation into possible war crimes committed by the state armed forces and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam. But these efforts have been overlooked by Sri Lankan authorities.

Continued pressure from Tamil diaspora groups has encouraged some progress under the Biden administration, which imposed personal sanctions on four senior Sri Lankan military officials between 2020 and 2022.

Given the history and lifespans of resolutions introduced in Congress regarding Sri Lanka, the new resolution shows slim chances of proceeding to the next stages required to become law. This limits its potential to demand binding action from the Sri Lankan state. Despite this potential outcome, receiving the US Congress’s acknowledgment and support holds symbolic significance for the Tamil diaspora.

As the United States prepares to elect its next president, the outcome will also impact the fate of the new resolution and US interest in human rights in Sri Lanka. The resolution will have a better chance of progressing under a Harris presidency, which may signify a continuation of the Biden administration’s policies.

The chances of the resolution gathering support on the Sri Lankan side seem likely under the newly appointed leftist President Anura Kumara Dissanayake. Dissanayake’s campaign failed to secure the endorsement of the Illankai Tamil Arasu Kachchi — one of the largest Tamil political groups representing the north and east. But there is hope for a locally grown solution to the Tamil question with home based political groups if Dissanayake remains true to his past sentiments and have the courage to ‘interrogate the JVP’s chauvinistic past, embrace minority communities, and support their struggles for justice and equality’.

During a 2018 parliamentary debate, Dissanayake compared his party, the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna, now part of his ruling coalition, to the Tamil National Alliance. He pointed out that both parties represented people in the south and north who have suffered the most under a repressive state.

Meanwhile, India, a regional US ally, has already signalled its commitment to finding a lasting solution to the Tamil issue through power devolution within a united Sri Lanka. This was highlighted during Indian Foreign Minister Jaishankar’s visit shortly after President Dissanayake assumed office. The new president has expressed similar views to that of India. Dissanayake’s success in the November 2024 parliamentary elections will be pivotal for advancing these efforts, as both domestic and diaspora Tamil groups are well-positioned to shape these developments.

This article was first publish on the East Asia Forum 

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the Author:

Shyamika Jayasundara-Smits

Shyamika Jayasundara-Smits is an Assistant Professor in conflict and peace studies at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS), Erasmus University, Rotterdam.

 

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“The principle of humanity in war’’: a reflection on the IHSA Annual Lecture 2024

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Image by Pixabay

In this blog, Andrew Cunningham (Independent Humanitarian Practitioner and Board Member of the International Humanitarian Studies Association, IHSA) considers the principle of ‘humanity’ during conflict, and its interaction with other key humanitarian principles including neutrality, impartiality, and independence. He also looks at how humanitarians can integrate dignity into their work, and how these principles may develop in highly politicised and fast-moving times. This blog summarises a contribution to the roundtable that followed the inaugural IHSA Annual Lecture and is part of a series of blogs produced following the Lecture, which took place in Bergen in May 2024 under the theme of “War and Humanity”.

The principle of humanity is often overlooked when we talk about the humanitarian principles. Focus is normally placed on the ‘big three’ principles – impartiality, independence, and neutrality. The most important of these is impartiality, which is the promise of non-discrimination and lack of bias in aid provision. The idea is to help those most in need regardless of who they are. Impartiality is a central and required aspect of humanitarian’s identity.

Independence, which allows aid organisations to make their own choices outside political interference, is also a foundational principle and facilitates the adherence to impartiality. The promise made by independent humanitarian aid organisations to host governments and non-state actors is that they make their own decisions and are not political tools of foreign governments.

More problematic, and much debated, is the principle of neutrality, which at its core demands that aid organisations do not become involved in political controversies. But some organisations (for example MSF) view it as a limitation on witnessing, speaking-out, and public communications. Do aid organisation have the right, or even obligation, to affect the political situations which lead to humanitarian crises?

But at the top of the list is the principle of humanity. Humanity is the collection of humans, some have the ability to help others, and some are in need of help. For, humanitarian action is simply humans helping other humans in need. Humanity is also a term which denotes a set of characteristics which must be preserved, such as the dignity of the person and a whole set of ‘human’ rights. This may all seem self-evident, yet it is worth reflecting on this lest we stop grounding what we do in the basics.

Humanity, dignity, and solidarity

Dignity is a consequence of attending to the humanity of those caught in a crisis. We all want to be treated with dignity at all times, of course. But those caught up in conflict are even more starved of dignity as their isolation, sense of abandonment, and fear of violence grows.

Humanitarian action doesn’t always do the best job at attending to the dignity of the individual, as so often masses of people are affected by war and are engaged with by organisation as populations. One way in which people in danger can be afforded dignity is the proximity of aid workers to those being assisted. No one wants to ‘feel like a number’ and be just a recipient of material aid or a beneficiary.

A feeling of human solidarity is also important, as this example of my work in Chechnya shows: After several years working in Chechnya during the last war, I was checking-in with the staff at a hospital we had long been supporting. We had been providing a lot of medical supplies and I was asking about its usefulness. But the chief doctor stopped me at a certain point and said that yes, the material aid had been needed, and appreciated. But that was not the most crucial factor. In turns out that not being forgotten, being treated with dignity by people who cared, was the most important aspects of our intervention. Solidarity can be seen as a mix of caring enough to help and being willing to share a moral, if not always a physical, space, with those caught-up in a crisis.

Does digitalisation lack humanity?

One way in which humanitarian aid may be diverting from this idea is through the ‘digitalisation’ of aid delivery. No one wants to only deal with an app on their smart phone or be forever linked to a set of biometrics which defines one’s aid category. There is more to aid than this transactional way of providing it. Proximity to human aid workers is vital to reinforce a person’s sense of dignity. In the search for efficiency and greater outputs (as opposed to outcomes), have we gone too far? Is there still room for the proximity of humans helping other humans? And where is the locus of dignity in this version of aid?

Wars provide a difficult terrain to navigate. The threat of violence to aid actors as well as those living in the crisis makes being proximate hard. The chief doctor I mentioned above had not been visited for quite some time by anyone form my organisation due to the violence in the area. But yet he knew we were sill ‘there’.

Conclusion

Let us return to the principle of humanity which is the highest order principle from which everything else is derived. Impartiality helps guide our operational choices – who we help and why. And independence and neutrality are ways of working which help provide the space to work. Together these all help make state and non-state actors comfortable with our motivations.

At its essence, we should never forget that humanitarian aid is humans helping humans, which requires proximity, dignity and solidarity. We should all remind ourselves periodically of the importance of the principle of humanity as the foundational humanitarian principle.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author

Andrew Cunningham

Andrew has thirty years’ experience in the humanitarian sector, twenty-five years of which with MSF. Andrew has worked in a wide variety of contexts and geographical locations in Africa, the Former Soviet Union, and Asia. He has a PhD in War Studies from King’s College and has published a professional book in the Routledge Humanitarian Studies series on the topic of INGO-State relations. Andrew has served as a member of the Board of MSF International and is currently a board member of the International Humanitarian Studies Association. Andrew works as a researcher, strategic and operational evaluator, and governance advisor for various humanitarian organisations.

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War between successive peoples is considered a moral evil, and indicates an increasing collapse of the values of human rights and law

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Source: Hosny Salah via Pixabay


How important is it that we see accountability for military crimes in the current Gaza war (especially in light of the indictment of the Israeli Prime Minister and Defense Minister for war crimes by the ICC)?

The decision of the Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court to indict is an historic decision par excellence. We have been waiting for this since 1948 and later since 2014: after the entry of ICC jurisdiction over Palestine. It is a first step to achieving accountability for the international crimes committed by the Israeli army against Palestinians over many years.

‘Whilst the indictment did not address all the crimes committed against Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza Strip, it is a symbolic message. It has a legal and political dimension indicating the possibility of no more immunity for criminals and no impunity for violence against Palestinians in the future.’

With ongoing atrocities in Gaza, there is likely to be a collective trauma amongst Palestinians. In your opinion, how might it be possible to re-humanize this conflict and the people in it once direct military action has ceased?

‘In my opinion, the civilian population in the Gaza Strip has been under a racist colonial military occupation since 1967, and the people have been refugees for 76 years. For the last 17 years they have lived under a strict military siege from land and sea, and under direct bombardment. Since the beginning of the Israeli military operation in 2024, they have cut off water, food, medicine and electricity, and destroyed homes and infrastructure. In this situation the civilian population do not expect justice, they just want the aggression and killing to stop.

‘The Israeli military and authorities need to treat people in Gaza as human beings that are part of society. People with the right, like other peoples of the world, to self-determination and to live in dignity, security and safety without occupation.

‘[After a ceasefire has been called] massive interventions will be required to provide all the necessities of life and to enable the population to enjoy human rights according to international law. Work will also be needed to help rid children of the psychological issues resulting from the aggression and deprivation of the last  230 days on top of the siege of the 17 years before that.’

In your role as Director of DCI-Palestine,you have direct experience of the importance of humanitarian organizations. What is their importance in the current conflict, and how can children’s rights in particular be safeguarded?

‘The work of human rights and humanitarian organizations is very important in order to help the victims and provide some services and assistance to them. But they also work to preserve hope for future generations, especially children. We are aware that the Israeli occupation wants to kill the hope of children and youth. Our work is to help victims build their capabilities in accordance with international law. Working as human rights defenders is to preserve hope and aspire to a better future and a just peace free of occupation and crime.’

The IHSA Annual Lecture 2024: ‘War and Humanity’

‘Human scientific efforts have been put towards generating ever-more deadly weapons, and conflicts are now most often settled militarily, rather than diplomatically; conflicts are no longer resolved through moral reason and law, nor through political negotiations, but through wars with well-organized armed forces.

Warring parties target civilians and civilian infrastructure as a weapon of war: war is no longer limited only to the battlefield. The different types of weapons and the killing, destruction and atrocities targeting the civilian population are now more prolific than ever before. It takes successive generations to overcome the results and consequences of war, to rebuild what was destroyed and provide the necessities of life.

‘The various legal and judicial efforts to enshrine the value of humanity in times of war have a number of shortfalls. Given that humanity is the opposite of war, human dignity requires the peaceful settlement of conflicts between and within societies. Individuals and groups should be treated in accordance with human rights standards. They have the right to live in peace and their human rights should be protected through legal systems and international human rights standards. Commitments within and between communities should be permanently respected.

As the war on Gaza continues to unfold, Israeli forces (and Hamas) have violated international humanitarian law  – including the fundamental right to life, the massive destruction of infrastructure and a growing famine in the territory – many times. Their rights infringements include administrative detention for civilians in the West Bank, including children and a lack of information about detainees in the Gaza strip.

There is a significant issue here with double standards, especially when we look at the refusal of Israel to follow decisions made by the International Court of Justice. If International Humanitarian Law is to be upheld, it must be upheld by everyone, regardless of their international alliances.

‘It is now time to activate the international accountability system by stopping the policy of impunity, eradicating hypocrisy and double standards, in order to reach a world free of wars, where justice and humanity prevail.

We cannot have a “two-level” system of international law and accountability. States and warring parties should not be free of their international obligations, especially around protecting civilians and the most vulnerable. If we fail to uphold standards within this war, we may find far-reaching repercussions in the future.’

The 2024 IHSA Annual Lecture was followed by a roundtable discussion on the theme of ‘War and Humanity’. The next blog in this series will include the contributions from expert panellists from that discussion.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the Authors:

Khaled Quzmar

Khaled Quzmar has worked with Defence for Children International – Palestine (DCIP), since 1985. He is a lawyer by training and profession, and as part of his work with DCIP he has represented hundreds of children held in arbitrary detention, tortured and otherwise mistreated by the Israeli government.

DCIP as an organization works on documenting human rights abuses, advocacy and campaigning on the right to a childhood. The organization also works within the Occupied Palestinian Territories, including with the Palestinian Authority, on child protection, education and access to justice. For their work on protecting the rights of children, Khaled Quzmar and DCIP were awarded the 2023 Rafto Prize.

Tom Ansell is the Coordinator of the Humanitarian Studies Centre and International Humanitarian Studies Association.

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Questions of Sovereignty -Somalia on the UN Security Council

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Photo Credit: Evan Schneider

On 6 June 2024 Somalia won a non-permanent seat on the UN Security Council, along with Denmark, Greece, Pakistan and Panama. As East Africa’s representative, Somalia along with the other newly elected members will join five already existing members to create the 10 non-permanent members on the Security Council. They will join the Security Council’s five permanent veto-wielding members of Britain, China, France, Russia and the United States. This two-year position, commencing in 2025, gives Somalia a voice in how the UN responds to conflicts around the world. Reacting to this development, the Foreign Minister of Somalia stated that Somalia would take up “its position on the global stage” and that “We stand ready to play a vital role in promoting peace and security in the world,” while the UN secretary general’s special representative for Somalia claimed “Somalia has come a long way over the past three decades on its path to peace, prosperity and security.”

Somalia, though, is a country that has minimal control over its territorial boundaries; with the secessionist region of Somaliland in control of the northeast of the country, various regional administrations with limited allegiance to federal authorities in central and southern regions and the militant Islamist group al-Shabaab holding arguably more territory than the government to the south. In this blog, we discuss Somalia’s election to the UN Security Council in relation to the juridico-political concept of sovereignty. We contend that Somalia’s election to the UN Security Council reveals one of the central problems with the concept of sovereignty: the disparity between a state’s internal sovereignty – a state’s ability to exercise effective control over its territory – and external sovereignty, also known as juridical sovereignty – the recognition by other states of a state’s rights to exercise control over its territory. We assert that there appears to be an increasing gap between Somalia’s ability to exercise sovereignty within its own territory and therein over its own people and its investment in external sovereignty or rather the investment of the international community in Somalia’s external sovereignty.

Sovereignty in Africa – a colonial inheritance

One of the most important concepts in contemporary political thought and practice is the juridico-political doctrine of sovereignty. The long and complicated history of this concept can be traced to the early history of state formation in Europe when it functioned as an organizing concept in debates over political authority

Since the emergence of the nation-state in Europe and its subsequent spread to the rest of the world, sovereignty has become synonymous with state authority and prerogative. As such, the specific history of this concept in African political history is deeply intertwined with the rise of the colonial state in the era of colonization. Ironically, the doctrine of sovereignty was initially part of the legitimating discourse used to justify European colonization of non-European peoples, including Africans. It was claimed that the attainment of a certain level of cultural and civilizational status was necessary in order for a particular society to legitimately claim sovereignty. Africans, as well as other colonized peoples, were too backward to exercise sovereignty over themselves, it was argued, and must be governed.  

While Africans and other colonized peoples rightly celebrated the attainment of sovereignty at independence, the historical legacy of colonialism was made evident when postcolonial sovereignty was bestowed on the successor of the colonial state, the postcolonial state. In Africa, this meant that the political borders drawn by colonizing European states were to crystalise into the parameters of postcolonial juridico-political sovereignty.

Despite arguments by some African scholars that the form of sovereignty inherited from colonialism is incompatible with African political history, the Organization of African Unity (OAU) and its successor, the African Union (AU), have maintained that respect for colonial borders is a practical necessity to avoid chaos and balkanization of the continent into countless ethnic enclaves. But as the postcolonial state in Africa has come under increasing economic and political crisis, so has the contestation over sovereignty become a contemporary reality in Africa

No region in Africa is this more evident than in the Horn, considered one of the most conflict-prone regions on the continent. A significant contributor to the region’s conflicts are contestations over sovereignty. There have been several wars in the region over the question of sovereignty, including the 1977-78 war between Ethiopia and Somalia, as well as the 1961-1992 war that led to Eritrea’s separation from Ethiopia.

The recent and highly controversial MoU between Ethiopia and Somaliland, signed on 1 January 2024, is only the latest expression of one of the fault lines of conflict in the region.  The agreement gives Ethiopia access to and the right to build on land on the Somaliland coast: land that the Somali government considers to be its own sovereign territory. The disputes over sovereignty in the Horn is further exasperated by the complete disintegration of the postcolonial Somali state in 1991.

Photo Credit: Evan Schneider

Somaliland – internal sovereignty, external exclusion

The origin of the dispute over Somaliland’s sovereignty lies in the fallout from the breakdown of the Somali Republic. After about a decade of armed rebellion by several rebel groups, the longtime military regime of Mohamed Siyad Barre fell in 1991. Subsequent to the regime’s fall, the different rebel forces failed to agree upon the formation of a new government. This failure threw the country into a prolonged period of civil war creating the longest running and the paradigmatic example of a ‘failed state’ in the contemporary world. Reflecting the socio-cultural structure of Somali society and the machinations of rebel leaders, the various rebel movements were organized on the basis of clan and regional identity. This meant that when the military regime fell in 1991, each rebel group took control of the region where their specific clan predominated. The north-eastern part of the country was taken over by the Somali National Movement (SNM), whose members were primarily from the Issaq clan. Subsequent to their takeover of the region, SNM and traditional leaders from the region (Issaq and non-Issaq) decided to unilaterally secede from Somalia in 1991.  

In keeping with the dominant understanding of sovereignty in postcolonial Africa, regional authorities in Somaliland grounded their right to secede on sovereign authority inherited from the colonial state. Their argument is based on the fact that the region was a distinct colonial entity from the rest of Somalia. It was under British colonial administration from 1884-1960 and known as British Somaliland, or officially, the Somaliland Protectorate, while the rest of Somalia was colonized by Italy, Italian Somaliland. Five days after becoming independent on June 26, 1960, British Somaliland merged with Italian Somaliland to form the postcolonial state of Somalia.  Separatist officials from Somaliland argue that they are separating from Somalia and reclaiming the sovereign statehood, which was lost when the region voluntarily united with Italian Somaliland. This argument is made with an eye to the AU’s position that the political borders inherited upon independence should be the basis of African sovereignty and statehood.

Subsequent to its unilateral declaration of independence, Somaliland has created a relatively effective governance structure combining indigenous and modern forms of governance mechanisms. Consequently, and for the most part, Somaliland exercises a certain level of internal sovereignty, especially when compared with the rest of Somalia, where there has not been an effective internal authority since the fall of the state in 1991. Even Somaliland’s internal sovereignty and legitimacy was always more contested than claimed and has arguably weakened in recent years, including most evidently in the form of the Las Anod conflict. Despite its arguments and relative stability, however, no state has recognized Somaliland’s claim to sovereign statehood, That said, Somaliland does maintain quasi-official diplomatic relations with some countries (Ethiopia) as well as other contested/semi-recognised polities (Taiwan).

Somalia – limited internal sovereignty, external recognition

Somalia’s internal sovereignty is limited both by the secessionist Somaliland (as indicated above), but also by highly autonomous regional states, such as Puntland, whose formation precedes that of the Federal Government of Somalia, as well as by the persistence of al-Shabaab, whose own lifespan is longer than the Federal government, and which opposes the current Somali state.

Following the collapse of the state in 1990/91 and various periods of conflict and a succession of internationally supported peace processes, Somalia’s current federal government was established in 2013. It is very much the product of external intervention and a response to the perceived Islamist threat in a post-9/11 world, vividly described by Ken Menkhaus as’ ‘principally a division of spoils that is held together by a combination of a common threat posed by Al-Shabaab, copious levels of security driven external aid, and protection afforded by AMISOM peacekeepers.

Since the establishment of this governmental arrangement Somalia is now in its third Presidential election cycle. As a sovereign entity it largely operates as a series of city states, divided between the Federal Government based in Mogadishu, operating out of a bunkerised ‘green zone’ and the Federal Member States, each with its own limitations on territorial control and legitimacy. Al-Shabaab holds sway over large swathes of the rural hinterland as well as possessing  a strong extra-territorial power, is able to tax business and people in government-held territory and operates a sharia’a based judicial system that many people utilise as it is considered both relatively fair/just and has the coercive capacity that ensures judgements are implemented.

Aisha Ahmad et al. argue that in fact there are two key parallel political bargains in Somalia, an elite political deal or bargain between members of the Federal Government and Federal Member States and a civilian deal which al-Shabaab establishes with citizens under its influence. The former deal is essentially backed up by the international community in the name of state sovereignty, and which serves to undermine the incentive for the government to develop a social compact with much of its population.

For many Somalis as well as many in the international community who work in and on Somalia, there is increasing recognition that domestic governance or internal sovereignty is not progressing even as the federal authorities in Mogadishu are increasingly invested by the international community with more powers of external/juridical sovereignty.

Conclusions

Somalia’s acceptance on the UN Security Council continues this external legitimising dynamic – and external sovereignty – with  limited signs on the ground that government – whether at the national, regional or local levels – is acting to improve its legitimacy with local populations, or that negotiations are taking place with either Somaliland or al-Shabaab, to further develop its internal sovereignty. It is in fact possible to argue that the continued legitimization of the Somali government by the international community in the name of sovereignty disincentivises government authorities from acting to consolidate internal sovereignty by investing in effective governance structures, improving its legitimacy with the local population through service provisioning and negotiating with the various competing authorities throughout the country. While reconciling the Westphalian notion of sovereignty with the complicated realities of African states struggling to exert internal and external sovereignty has always been difficult, the situation in Somalia underscores not only this country’s struggle with sovereignty, but the potential for contradictions between the external trappings of sovereignty and the internal reality.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the Authors:

Dr. Ahmed Sh. Ibrahim

Dr. Ahmed Sh. Ibrahim is a socio-cultural anthropologist with a PhD from the Graduate Center, City University of New York (CUNY). He is currently an anthropology instructor with Carleton College’s Ecology and Anthropology Program in Tanzania. Dr. Ibrahim has done research in the Horn of Africa and among the African diaspora in the U.S. with a focus on the history and politics of religion, political conflicts and immigration. His research has appeared in peer-reviewed academic journals, edited volumes, and popular websites such as Africa is a Country and Responsible Statecraft. He can be reached at ahmedf95@gmail.com.

Dr. Nisar Majid

Dr. Nisar Majid is the research director for the PeaceRep (Somalia) programme at the LSE. He has worked in and on the Horn of Africa and the Somali territories for over 20 years, in various applied and research capacities. His areas of research have included food security and famine studies, humanitarianism, and diaspora studies. He is the co-author of ‘Famine in Somalia, Competing Imperatives, Collective Failures’, 2011-12 (Hurst). He can be reached at N.Majid1@lse.ac.uk.

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Language in the War on Gaza

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[vc_row css=”.vc_custom_1592900783478{margin-right: 0px !important;margin-left: 0px !important;}”][vc_column css=”.vc_custom_1592900766479{margin-right: 10px !important;margin-left: -10px !important;}”][vc_column_text]Israeli and other world leaders are continuing to make claims in their attempt to justify the war on Gaza — statements that appear to be true and are taken at face value while they are in fact dangerously deceptive, writes Dubravka Žarkov, who argues that politicians outside Israel are far from powerless to stop the bloodshed in Gaza. But for that to happen, some hard truths have to be taken into account.[/vc_column_text][vc_single_image image=”28081″ img_size=”large” add_caption=”yes” alignment=”center”][vc_column_text]Israel’s political and military leaders have produced so many outright lies regarding Gaza and Hamas that it might seem there is no point in wasting one’s breath on them. Consider the following statements and the contrary evidence for those not yet convinced:

  • The IDF does not deliberately target civilians, journalists, medical facilities and staff, or restricts aid. In fact, the IDF has deliberately targeted civilians (as widely reported), journalists (as Human Rights Watch has detailed), and medical personnel (according to Amnesty International). It has also put various restrictions on aid.
  • The United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East (UNRWA) is harboring among its employees Hamas militants who took part in the October 7 massacres. Yet, Israel has not shared any information or evidence to back up its assertions while UNRWA has screened its 13,000 staff in Gaza on a biannual basis.
  • Israel’s declared war on Gaza and the ongoing, undeclared war against Palestinians in the West Bank are “against Hamas” and “terrorists.” In fact, multiple Israeli governments, including the current one, have committed to appropriating all Palestinian territory and committing genocide against the Palestinians currently living there.
  • Iran is the main financier and supporter of Hamas. In fact, other entities like Qatar have been the main supporters of Hamas, and Israel too was instrumental in creating Hamas to divide Palestinian sympathies.

Other statements, however, made by Israeli and other world leaders, that may appear to be true, and that continue to be taken at face value, are in reality dangerously deceptive. Their aim is to justify Israeli politics regarding violence towards Palestinians, actions in support of the current war, or inaction in stopping it. Careful examination of a few of these will expose the ways in which such statements operate.

Dictionary of Deception

Probably the most repeated statement proffered by Israeli politicians and their supporters is that Hamas and Palestinians in general deny the Israeli state’s “right to exist.” This statement entirely ignores – and diverts attention away from – the unquestionable reality that Israel has existed as a state since 1948 and continues to exist, whether or not Hamas or anyone else objects to it.

At the same time, the Israeli complaint occludes the reality that it is Palestine whose right to exist as a state has long been denied. Although the majority of world governments have recognized Palestinian statehood, the State of Palestine has only an observer status in the UN. This is so because Israel and the United States, Canada, Australia, and an absolute majority of  European states have refused to recognize Palestinian statehood (though this might change in future). Israel’s current government has explicitly and loudly proclaimed that it has no plan to recognize a Palestinian state. It is, thus, Israel that denies any Palestinian state’s right to exist.

Instead, Israel is expanding the occupation of Palestinian territory, and when faced with resistance, it asserts its own “right to self-defense.” However, in 1983, the UN General Assembly explicitly affirmed Palestinians’ right to self-defense “by all available means, including armed struggle,” a right they share with all nations under “colonial domination, apartheid and foreign occupation,” as asserted in the Geneva Conventions. This right does not include violence against Israeli civilians, which Hamas militants have perpetrated. Such violence may qualify as war crimes. Nevertheless, the Geneva Conventions make clear that the “right to self-defense” belongs to the occupied, not the occupier. Any military or police action taken by an occupier against the occupied – even when the occupied uses violence against occupation – is violence, not self-defense.

Another instance of Israeli deception can be seen in Israeli politicians’ regular insistence that Palestinian schools teach their children to hate Jews. UNRWA – the main sponsor of education in the West Bank and Gaza – was accused of spreading incitement of violence and hatred of Jews in their textbooks. However, the European Union review of Palestinian schoolbooks has concluded that they include “a strong focus on human rights… express a narrative of resistance within the context of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and…display an antagonism towards Israel.” None of this equates to hatred of Jews. The accusation of Palestinian schoolbooks spreading hatred is also debunked by The European Middle East Project.

The EU report further notes that textbooks produced by Israeli authorities removed “entire chapters on regional and Palestinian history”, which “fundamentally changes the [Palestinian] national narrative.” Israeli state school books often simply ignore the Palestinian presence, and perpetually depict Israel and Jews as victims of Palestinian and Arab enemy.

No wonder, then, that Israeli girls sing about the annihilation of Gaza on an online Israeli TV program, and Israeli soldiers in Gaza make videos broadcasting their mocking, humiliation, and killing of Palestinian civilians as well as their destruction or looting of Palestinian property. These soldiers are not necessarily right-wing Zionists like some of the Jewish citizens blocking aid to Gaza or trying to build houses within Gaza’s borders. Nor are they necessarily the Jewish settlers from the West Bank. Many of them are just ordinary citizens. But in their ordinariness, they provide a frightening and accurate picture of Israeli society’s general views of Palestinians. This is why a majority of Israeli citizens support the genocide in Gaza even if they do not support Israel’s prime minister and his government.

Finally, contrary to their lament of “grave concern” for “suffering in Gaza,” and their often self-serving statements, politicians outside Israel are far from powerless to stop the bloodshed in Gaza. Even within the classical diplomatic arsenal, individual states can expel Israel’s ambassadors and recall their own. They can impose sanctions or boycott Israeli businesses, politicians, cultural and sports representatives (as they have done, with vigor, with regard to Russia and Russians). They can stop their arms exports to Israel, sever economic relations, and multiply their financial support for humanitarian organizations operating in Gaza (rather than cutting that support). Only a handful of states have actually recalled their ambassadors from Israel. No Western state is among them, and except Bahrain, no other rich Arab state.

How can it be that the people who have demonstrated endlessly in support of Palestinians—and have identified and urged many of these measures—know more than powerful heads of state about strategies to stop the genocide?

The answer, of course, is that governments do know. And that reality brings us to some hard truths.

Hard Truths

Palestinians have no friends among Western governments. They have known this hard truth for a long time, and their knowledge has been confirmed in a most dreadful way. Even though a few European countries (like Spain and Ireland) have used very sharp language against Israel, they have taken no steps that would protect the lives of Palestinians in Gaza and in the West Bank. The United States and a few Western governments have bragged that they have imposed (travel and banking) sanctions on a few Jewish settlers and settlements. But this is a ludicrous substitute for effective action. Some Western leaders and governments now face court cases, brought by pro-Palestinian human rights organizations and lawyers, charging that they have violated both domestic and international laws by supporting Israel’s genocide in Gaza (by supplying of ammunition to Israel), or by their failures to stop it. But, thus far, judicial interventions have not brought effective protections to the victims of genocide.

Palestinians also do not have friends among Arab governments, nor should they expect any. Their “Arab brothers” have expressed “deep concerns” about the Palestinian plight, but they have other, more important concerns, such as importing Israeli surveillance technology to keep checks on political opponents. Saudi Arabia, who long held to a policy of linking normalization with Israel to Israel’s recognition of the Palestinian state, now speaks only about a “path to Palestinian statehood.”

This means that Palestinians need their own new political force to achieve both formal recognition of statehood and peace with Israel. Are either of these two goals feasible? For now, there is no sign that various Palestinian factions will achieve unity, which is an absolutely necessary precondition to any long-term, sustainable Palestinian state. Hamas and Fatah have held numerous talks to no avail. Clearly, it is not easy to reconcile secular and Islamist worldviews, ideas of governance and ideals of societal relations. Even various Islamist factions do not see eye to eye. But without such unity, prior to the end of genocide and occupation, post-genocide and post-occupation Palestine will descend into internal violence and struggle for power. As for peace with Israel, the state of affairs in twentieth-century post-genocide societies does not offer grounds for much optimism. Genocides do not destroy only people, their cultures, and their histories. They destroy hope and imagination, too, which are necessities for building peace.

Israel, too, needs a new political force to build a totally new national narrative based on language from a dictionary very different from the dictionary of deception. The Israeli public’s overwhelming support of the destruction of Gaza, occupation of the West Bank, and expansion of settlements means that creating such a new political force and language could take generations, if ever. Still, it is possible to imagine that one day an Israeli public that is currently supporting the annihilation of Gaza may begin asking itself: “How has a state created to give hope to survivors of genocide turned into a perpetrator of genocide? What have I given my voice to and what have I been silent about?”

Unless and until this happens, there is no hope for either Israel or Palestine. Nor for the world within which all of us exist.[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]Reprinted from Foreign Policy in Focus with permission.[/vc_column_text][vc_separator color=”black”][vc_column_text]Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.[/vc_column_text][vc_separator color=”custom” accent_color=”#0a0100″ css=”.vc_custom_1713256251608{margin-top: -15px !important;margin-bottom: 10px !important;}”][vc_column_text css=”.vc_custom_1713255941005{margin-top: 0px !important;}”]

About the author:

Dubravka Žarkov retired in 2018 as an Associate Professor of Gender, Conflict and Development at the International Institute of Social Studies, Erasmus University of Rotterdam, the Netherlands where she taught feminist epistemologies, conflict theories and media representations of war and violence. Her books include The Body of War: Media, Ethnicity and Gender in the Break-up of Yugoslavia (2007) and the co-edited collection Narratives of Justice In and Out of the Courtroom, Former Yugoslavia and Beyond (with Marlies Glasius, 2014). She was a co-editor of the European Journal of Women’s Studies. She lives in Belgrade, Serbia.

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What can be done to address healthcare violations in Gaza?

On 29 February 2024, I presented in a panel at the Erasmus Medical Centre in Rotterdam on “The right to healthcare under fire”. The event was organised by Artsen Voor Gaza (Doctors for Gaza) a Dutch group of physicians, medical students and medical researchers. Alongside compelling presentations from Dr. Loes de Kleijn, Dr. Kamal El Mokayad and Haya Al Farra, I spoke of the legal context of the ongoing, genocidal violence in Gaza and more importantly what can be done.

CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

The War in Gaza has a context

Since the attacks in Southern Israel and Israel’s operation in Gaza called “Iron Swords” from October 2023, Israel has destroyed the majority of Gaza’s infrastructure, including its medical infrastructure. As I wrote already on 12 October 2023, the war in Gaza has an important context. Unfortunately, as the Israeli Professor of History Ilan Pappe has observed, there is an active effort to de-historicize the conflict, which serves as a backing to Israel in its genocidal violence against Palestinians in Gaza.

Despite Israel’s withdrawal of settlements and redeployment of forces in 2005, Israel has continued to occupy the 365 km2 territory of Gaza, including mounting a siege that has severely restricted basic needs. The majority of Gazans are under the age of 20 and have never left the territory. Most are refugees (and their descendants), forcibly displaced from their homes in 1948, which are maintained by what a Palestinian Professor of History, Nur Masalha describes as a politics of denial.

From a humanitarian angle, most Gazans have been largely dependent on direct United Nations assistance ever since the ‘Nakba’ in 1948, and in particular the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA). This makes it all the more concerning that states have been seeking to defund UNRWA, following (as yet unfounded) Israeli allegations that its staff were complicit in the October attacks, a move described as “reckless” by a senior, Washington-based analyst.

 

“I am so scared”

So often we hear Palestinians referred to as statistics. While this potentially enables people to process the horrors of what is happening, as the poet and commentator Ramsey Nasr reminds us, those who have been killed had names, and we must remember them.

Two names and stories of two Gazans among the more than 30.000 (at the time of writing) who have been killed since October 2023 were recalled during the Event at Erasmus Medical Centre. One who was remembered was Hind Rajab. She was 5 or 6 years old when her family car came under fire by Israeli soldiers in Gaza City on 29 January 2024, she made a phone call to the Palestinian Red Crescent. “I am so scared,” she said. “Call someone to come get me, please.” Sadly, after more than two weeks of frantic efforts to reach her, Hind’s body was recovered a few days later on 3 February, along with those of relatives and two Red Crescent rescue workers that had been sent to find her. Their family car was riddled with bullets.

Another Gazan who was remembered was Refaat Alareer, a Palestinian Professor, poet and activist from Gaza who taught English literature at the Islamic University of Gaza.

 

The Functions of International Law in relation to Atrocity Crimes

The case brought by South Africa against Israel on genocide charges has raised the prospect of international law, and international legal institutions, finally serving to help end the bloodshed and longstanding impasse between Israel and the Palestinians. In this context, it is worthwhile to understand the functions of international law in seeking to prevent, protect against and seek accountability for atrocity crimes.

First, in its regulatory function, international law sets limits on military conduct, in particular to prevent the commission of atrocity crimes, including the crime of apartheid and the crime of genocide. Secondly, in its protection function, international law aims to protect civilians and humanitarian workers (and civilian and humanitarian infrastructure). Finally, and perhaps most importantly in the present context, international law has an accountability function; this comprises a collective obligation to investigate and prosecute individual violators, including war crimes directed against civilian medical personnel and the crime of genocide.

Accordingly, various, specific measures protect medical personnel and infrastructure, including Article 19 of the Geneva Conventions that they “may in no circumstances be attacked, but shall at all times be respected and protected by the Parties to the conflict”. Article 8 of the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court provides that individuals who are found to have been “intentionally directing attacks against buildings, material, medical units and transport, and personnel using the distinctive emblems of the Geneva Conventions in conformity with international law” have committed war crimes.

 

Preliminary Measures by the International Court of Justice

After two days of oral hearings on 11 and 12 January 2024 from legal teams representing South Africa and Israel, the ICJ came back on 26 January with a set of Provisional Measures, as requested by South Africa. Each of the Provisional Measures were separately voted upon, all of which received an overwhelming majority, including the following:

“The State of Israel shall take immediate and effective measures to enable the provision of urgently needed basic services and humanitarian assistance to address the adverse conditions of life faced by Palestinians in the Gaza Strip.”

In justifying these measures, the Court “took note” of several statements by United Nations officials, including a statement made by the United Nations Under-Secretary-General for Humanitarian Affairs and Emergency Relief Coordinator, Mr Martin Griffiths, on 5 January 2024:

“Gaza has become a place of death and despair… Medical facilities are under relentless attack. The few hospitals that are partially functional are overwhelmed with trauma cases, critically short of all supplies, and inundated by desperate people seeking safety.  A public health disaster is unfolding. Infectious diseases are spreading in overcrowded shelters as sewers spill over. Some 180 Palestinian women are giving birth daily amidst this chaos… “the health-care system in Gaza is collapsing”.

 

So, what can be done, beyond the Courts?

It’s hard not to feel sceptical about the potential of the Courts to change Israel’s behaviour. Israel’s responses since the 26 January 2024 Preliminary Measures were issued suggest that the ICJ has little to no deterrent effect. In fact, Israel not only failed to comply with these preliminary measures, it actually stepped up its military campaign. 5-year old Hind died a mere 3 days after the ICJ issued its judgement.

But international law has relevance beyond the courts. As legal mobilization researchers argue, international law can be seen as not only an imperial project, as Erakat eloquently explains, but also as a legitimate source of disruption, resistance and liberation.

For example, international law represents a legitimate basis for boycotting corporations that are complicit in atrocity crimes, such as Israeli Universities and McDonalds, just as was done during the South African anti-apartheid movement.

Another form of legal mobilization, as Dr. Claudia Saba has argued, is the delivery of humanitarian aid, as the “Free Gaza” movement have been doing, using small civilian boats to try and alleviate the desperate circumstances caused by Israel’s decades-long siege of Gaza.

Further forms of legal mobilization are protests and sit-ins, as the Public Interest Litigation Project has been preoccupied with, and what Doctors for Gaza in The Netherlandshave been engaged with since October 2024.

In other words, addressing violations of the right to health care through legal mobilization involves more than just “winning” in court. It takes on many different forms. These different forms of legal mobilization serves to galvanise social justice struggles.

What legal mobilization will not do is bring back the hundreds of health workers who have been killed in Gaza, let alone Hind Rajab or Refaat Alareer. However, it may serve to hold those responsible for killing them.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

Dr. Jeff Handmaker is Associate Professor of Legal Sociology, based at the International Institute of Social Studies in The Hague.

 

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Caring About Peace: Care as Inclusion and Transformation in Peacebuilding

Drawing off interviews with peacebuilding practitioners working in Palestine, Sudan and Yemen, this blog considers how peacebuilding practices can be enhanced with a lens of care. How does centring care relations of interdependency impact what is understood as peacebuilding? How can decision making and participation become more inclusive? And what are the implications for the construction of Global North/South dichotomy informing humanitarian intervention?

Image by artemisgone/Pixabay

Puig de la Bellacasa (2017) sits with the trouble of understanding the significance and ambivalence of care by stating “care is omnipresent, even through the effects of its absence” (p. 1). The ‘absence’ of care is particularly visible during conflict, as care tasks may become more urgent and challenging. Likewise, care relations are severed when people die or become displaced, and numbers of injured people requiring care may increase (Robinson, 2011 p. 96). In the context of peace and conflict, some scholars argue that care, and the gendered power relations that go with it, cuts through social practices (Vaittinen et al., 2019, p. 3).

With this framing of care, my thesis research sought to explore how peacebuilding with a care lens can enable inclusion and strengthen extant situated caring practices. I explored this in conversations with peacebuilding professionals implementing programs under the Dutch NAP-IV, Security Council Resolution 1325 on Women Peace and Security (WPS), in Palestine, Sudan and Yemen.

Analysis of peacebuilding programs with a care lens

Across three country contexts, every conversation revealed how care relations are constituted in a lineage of unequal power structures – specifically, colonialism, patriarchy, and racism.

These conversations revealed how without explicitly considering people with care roles and their specific needs, peacebuilding programs inadvertently excluded people with care roles in their approach. This exclusion is in direct contradiction to the NAP-IV outcome of increasing women’s equal and meaningful participation in decision-making in peace and security processes. Moreover, excluding people with care roles – who may face multiple aspects of structural marginalisation – impedes upon their needs, rights, expertise and experiences shaping the discourse of what peace and security means, for whom, and how it is attained. This exclusion furthers the devaluation and marginalisation of people who care – and the role of care itself – in society. So, , what could embedding a care lens add to these programs?

Embodying caring values: attentive listening and responding to needs

Practicing caring values such as attentive listening, patience, humility and seeking to understand the context can support better understanding and response to needs of affected communities in peacebuilding programs. This can include asking ‘How are care relations disrupted by the conflict? Have sites of care (e.g. community spaces and homes) been destroyed in the conflict? How are gendered dynamics impacted by the conflict? How are marginalised groups impacted by the conflict? Whose needs are being met, and whose are not?’ This echoes the recommendations in the Peace Direct et al. Decolonising Aid (2021) report where practitioners advised INGOs to “listen, listen, listen”, and “act with humility” (p. 36).

Designing to include

In my conversations with peacebuilding professionals, I heard examples of listening and responding to needs in practice. Based in Sudan, Amina* spoke of advising colleagues in the program, “Always, I tell them that we need to do our listening before conducting any activity in the community. Just go to the community, listen from them directly. Listen for the women, listen for their stories. And after that, let us come and sit and think and try to know the kind of intervention that we need for this community”. This practice of attentive listening, utilising relational ontology and situated knowledge of the context, can be embedded in the needs assessment prior to program design and implementation.

Based in Palestine, Sahar* reflected on a lack of understanding of unpaid care work as a barrier to participation: “This is a huge burden that might prevent women from engagement and participation in public life in general … we are talking about women’s political participation and participation in decision-making process”.

A needs assessment must embody an ethics of care, and be attuned to structural barriers to participation. Practically, this entails specifying who does the listening (e.g., someone with existing relations to the community), who is listened to (e.g., marginalised communities), and identifying existing relations of care and seeking to strengthen these, while being attuned to how different forms of power exist and are distributed in society, impacting relations of dependency as mutual or exploitative.

Having a more comprehensive understanding of the specific needs of people in a conflict-affected community can support inclusive program design, such as providing childcare during program events and scheduling events in times and places which are not restrictive for people to attend. Addressing these barriers enables peace and security discourse to be more reflective of the lived realities, needs and aspirations of all people affected by the conflict.

 

Implications for humanitarian intervention

Thinking about peace with a care lens supports us to centre a recognition of interdependence across national borders, and challenges the construction of power within the longstanding Global North/South dichotomy in humanitarian intervention. A care analysis highlights the capacity and expertise of people who are situated in a conflict-affected context to understand and respond to needs of particular others, as such relations of giving and receiving care exist before, during and after the conflict. This framing aligns with the broader localisation agenda.

This does not suggest international actors have no role or responsibility in supporting conflict-affected communities. Ethics of care highlights the experience of interconnected needs, dependency and vulnerability transcending national borders, and is attuned to the historical and ongoing impacts of colonisation which influence whose needs are met, and whose are not. From here, the role of humanitarian intervention must be to strengthen local activities/approaches, and redistribute resources to do this, rather than undermine or overshadow local initiatives.

Everyday peace theorists contend that without a consideration of how care operates in peace efforts “it follows that various mundane practices of caring that are crucial in creating trust and peaceful conflict transformation are either taken for granted, or remain invisible” (Vaittinen et al., 2019, p. 3). As the conflicts in Sudan, Yemen and Palestine continue and civilian deaths increase every day, care relations are severed, strained and remade. Humanitarian intervention must seek to strengthen mundane, everyday practices of care in efforts to support and sustain peace that is by, and for, people situated in the conflict context.


References

*Note, interview participant names changed to maintain anonymity

Peace Direct, Adeso, Alliance for Peacebuilding and Women of Color Advancing Peace and Security and Conflict Transformation. (2021) Time to Decolonial Aid – Insights and lessons from a global consultation. Peace Direct, London. Available at: PDDecolonising_Aid_Report_Second_Edition.pdf (peaceinsight.s3.amazonaws.com) (Accessed 19 October 2023).

Puig de la Bellacasa, M. (2017) ‘The Disruptive Thought of Care’, in Puig de la Bellacasa, M. (ed.) Matters of care: speculative ethics in more than human worlds. United Kingdom: University of Minnesota Press, pp. 1-24.

Robinson, F. (2011a) The Ethics of Care; A Feminist Approach to Human Security. Philadelphia: Temple University Press.

Vaittinen, T., Donahoe, A., Kunz, R., Bára Ómarsdóttir, S. and Roohi, S. (2019) ‘Care as everyday peacebuilding’, Peacebuilding, 7(2), pp. 194-209. doi: 10.1080/21647259.2019.1588453 https://doi.org/10.1080/21647259.2019.158845 3.


Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

Ebony Westman holds a MA in Development Studies, specialising in Peace and Conflict Studies from ISS (2023) and a MA in Gender Studies from Utrecht University (2017). Ebony is committed to intersectional gender advocacy and exploring this in the context of peace, conflict and care.

 

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Scholars stand for Palestine: 42 ISS MA Graduates (2022-2023) call for mobilization in support of Palestine

On the 20th of December 2023, the MA students of ISS (cohort 2022-2023) celebrated their graduation. For them, the day of joy and pride was overshadowed by world events and a number of students made a statement in support of the Palestinian cause in relation to the current conflict in the region. As the statement was made on behalf of a large number of students, the editorial board of BLISS decided, at the students’ specific request, to publish their statement. We congratulate the students on their graduation and wish them well as they take the next step in their careers. This is the statement the students made:

MA-Graduation 2022-2023

Dear graduates, dear family and friends, dear ISS community,

We are gathered here today to celebrate our success in finishing our degree within the field of development studies. Besides celebrating all we have achieved and the futures that lay before us, we want to use this time and space to share our fears. We feel apprehensive to step out into the world in a hopeful manner. Rather, we feel conflicted.

Above all, at this institute, we have been taught to be critical and use our voices. Given the platform we have been granted here today, and as academics, through our degree, we feel responsible to speak up and no longer remain silent or neutral.

MA-Graduation 2022-2023

As we gather here today, an eliminatory assault is being waged by the state of Israel against the Palestinian people in Gaza. This is not hyperbole. After two months of shelling the strip indiscriminately, including the use of white phosphorus, the bombing of hospitals and schools, calling for millions to evacuate in active war zones, and cutting all access to food, electricity, water and medical supplies, Israel is now in the middle of a ground assault. This is both cynical and brazen. Its 18-year long siege has and continues to strangle the 2.2 million people stuck in 365km². This situation is not just confined to Gaza. Since the start of the war, over 250 Palestinians in the West Bank have been killed by the Israeli military and settler militias. Israel has bombed Syria and Lebanon, and the Middle East region now stands on the edge of war.

At the same time, western governments are beating the drum of war, while pretending not to see what is unfolding in front of our eyes. For decades, these western powers have blindly supported Israel – militarily, diplomatically, and economically and suppressed any actions of solidarity with Palestinians. The current crisis, the death, the destruction, and oppression is as much on their hands as it is on those of the Israeli state.

The first response by universities across the Netherlands, instead of encouraging discussion, debate, and informed analysis, was to call on people to refrain from doing so within their communities. It leaves us feeling confused and hurt if we think back to the response given by universities after the invasion of Ukraine. Mere days after the war had started, universities raised Ukrainian flags and published solidarity statements in support of Ukraine. In the current situation, those same institutes remain silent, or worse, actively suppress protest and concerns by students and staff, hiding behind claims of ‘neutrality’ and ‘careful assessment of the situation’. As Desmond Tutu remarked; ‘If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.’

Right now, we must act. The priority of every single concerned university worker, student, and others is to mobilize in support of Palestine. We can’t watch this genocidal war happen in front of our eyes in silence. We must pressure our governments to withdraw all support for Israel’s massacre in Gaza and call an end to their complicity. Our actions matter in whether or not Israel is allowed to continue to flatten Gaza, expel and murder its inhabitants. 

MA-Graduation 2022-2023

As ISS students who were trained and shaped in a critical manner, it becomes an imperative to demonstrate our solidarity with Palestine. Our education empowers us not only to critique historical injustices but to actively engage in dismantling oppressive structures. Through our solidarity, we contribute to a collective effort that transcends borders, demonstrating that our commitment to justice extends beyond the classroom. There can be no justice under apartheid, no justice under colonial rule, no justice behind the barbed wire of an open air prison. We follow Dutch Scholars for Palestine’s lead in calling everyone to redouble our collective efforts to end the violent realities that Palestinians face, to increase the pressure on our institutions and governments, in order to hold Israel accountable for its crimes, and to end its colonial regime. We call on all of you to join us, and organize.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the authors:

  1. Cecilia Begal
  2. Carlie Kinnear
  3. Margaret Arney (Maggie)
  4. Muhammad Azka Fahriza
  5. Sydney Cohee
  6. Roos Saat
  7. Joelle Vetter
  8. Carlos Adams
  9. Dedy Susanto
  10. Marialuisa Borja L
  11. Smriti
  12. Rassela Malinda
  13. Madeleine Walker
  14. Eliana Melhem
  15. Salma Annisa
  16. Yusnita Silsilia Warda
  17. Patience Atanga
  18. María Fernanda Cossío Calderón
  19. Ismi Nabila
  20. Loke Wan-Kit
  21. Harjas Kaur
  22. Maria Caracciolo
  23. Rupankar Dey
  24. Melisa Try Hatmanti
  25. Ejiroghene Andrew Oruarume
  26. Mainak Bhattacarya
  27. Lok Yee Liona Li
  28. Marie Boscher
  29. Laura Mercedes Caicedo Valencia
  30. Ianira Pereira Cipriano
  31. Ting Yi Wu
  32. Haliza Lubis
  33. Catalina Mora Baquero
  34. Johanne Degenhardt
  35. Radha Sivasankaran
  36. Vrinda Poojari
  37. Eman Shaukat
  38. Andrea Catalina Medina Garzón
  39. Sara Asmar Salazar
  40. Hang Nguyen
  41. Catalina González Sarmiento
  42. Syeda Sayema Mayesha

 

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A highly educating and pleasant experience” – IHSA Satellite Conference in Tripoli provides a chance to reflect and consider research-in-practice

The bi-annual IHSA Conference featured a satellite conference  in Tripoli, Libya. Some 55 practitioners from local CSOs shared their insights on humanitarian and development challenges they face in daily life. They spoke about possible solutions and cherished the recognition of the work of people from around the world. Sharing perspectives enriched discussions and provided new insights to participants. Participants were also able to share their insights with participants at the ‘main’ IHSA conference in Dhaka, Bangladesh.

Image by Author

The 7th IHSA Conference took place in Dhaka, Bangladesh in November 2023, and this year for the first time, a satellite conference was held concurrently in Tripoli, Libya. I had the pleasure of working alongside the dedicated team in Libya to organize this event. The team in Libya consist of 5 Libyan nationals  working out of Tripoli.  The team is currently working on a larger project designing, organizing and facilitating a growing network of civil society activists in the country. The network consists of 55 members, some individual activists, others community groups and CSOs. All are working on advancing equitable governance and the rule of law in an EU-funded programme.

In Libya, the event planning followed the IHSA agenda with a three-day event. Due to the time zones, the IHSA afternoon sessions in Dhaka would be open to participants in Libya. With a locally-designed and convened programme for the afternoon and evening sessions. The satellite conference was the first large-scale international event that civil society groups participated and co-organized in recent years. Being able to take part in an international event was a welcome boost for participating people and organizations, following several years of work strengthening civil society in the country

Ten Libyans proposed papers of which 7 were accepted.. The acceptance of papers defined the planning for the different panels that could be attended. In two rooms in a hotel in Tripoli, 55 participants listened, presented and contributed to the (virtual) discussion in the different sessions.

 

Topics including the role of local CSO’s, Women’s Empowerment, and the WPS agenda

The papers addressed highly relevant topics. Saleh Ehtitah, a CSO leader from Sebha in Southern Libya, spoke on the role of local CSOs in bringing about democratic orientation, community awareness, and development in Libya since 2011. It highlighted the contributions to conflict resolution, promoting peace, and addressing human rights violations. On the second day, during  a panel titled “Women’s Engagement & Protection in Conflict: Examining Displacement, Peace-making, and Empowerment.” Two female CSO leaders presented their papers. The first paper, by Hanin Bushosha from Benghazi, analyzed the active roles of Libyan women in peace and security issues, emphasizing their participation in preparatory meetings for national reconciliation and the importance of their inclusion in peace processes. The second paper by Awatef Alawine from Tripoli, explored women’s participation during the conflict in Libya, focusing on their involvement in resolving conflicts between cities and their participation in political dialogue forums. Meanwhile an activist from Sirte, In Room 2, Hanibal Alsagheer presented a paper on “Deforestation and weak urbanization as catalysts to flooding and fires In the Sirte Gulf”. The paper examined the effects of climate change on cities in the Gulf of Sirte region in Libya, highlighting issues such as desertification, population migration, and poor urban planning. It emphasized the need for government intervention, urban planning, and sustainable policies to mitigate climate change impacts. On the third day, both Rooms 1 and 2 hosted the same panel. Which included a paper from Mohamed Celini, leader of a CSO working to advance the rights of people with disabilities in Benghazi. He spoke on “Inclusion of persons with disabilities in humanitarian work, between the convention and reality.” The paper discussed the challenges faced by people with disabilities in the humanitarian field and focused on their integration into society during emergencies and crises, with a specific emphasis on the impact of recent floods in Derna.

 

Roundtables on everyday challenges and local organization

Next to the panel discussions, the Libyan team leader Fahmi Abusahmain facilitated a roundtable. The focus was on the gaps in the rule of law in daily Libyan life with special attention to the challenges encountered during the Derna flood. Malak Hanouchi, a CSO leader from Derna reported on her efforts made during the immediate rescue and recovery operations in her home town. She told how the people in Derna and the neighbouring areas had to face the challenges. This was further emphasized in the paper of Mousa Algunaidi from Misrata which could not be presented due to the time difference. His submitted paper analyzed the impact of the lack of rule of law during the Derna flood. His analysis shows that many lives could have been saved if Libya had basic systems in place, like weather warnings, effective and trusted government communication and data collection. The positive outcome of the flood was the undivided attention of Libyans and political adversaries to lenient the immediate needs.

I have noticed the huge impact the IHSA Conference and side event have had and this will be felt in Libya for some time. As Mohamed from Zeltin mentioned, he was pleased and honoured to be part of the conference. Most participants noted that the topics covered mattered to them, the discussion was highly appreciated and they gained new insights.

Participants were particularly impressed by the presence of the many organizations, which provided networking and collaboration opportunities. The event’s organizing team received praise for their responsiveness and efficiency. Suggestions for improvement included mainly technical and practical issues such as the quality of the virtual connection, translation and planning. Participants indicated the event has shown how they can change some of their ways of working, how important (project) preparation is, and most importantly, how networking and collaboration can fuel continuous learning. Libyans are enthusiastic about future events and committed to using new insights they gained to achieve positive changes. They have felt their work and presence matter. This strengthened confidence in the next steps they can take to advance their country. In that regard, Libyan communities deserve further support to expand their work as main contributors to peace and justice in their country. Including them in future programmes and conference will help them do this. Meanwhile international partners thus get the chance to develop their approach to partnerships and working together.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

Anne  Brinkman (Amsterdam 1967) is a practitioner in (inter)national development and change, a lawyer and organizational scientist by training. Her work is shaped in practice in connection to people’s daily experiences, grounded in theory and informed by (innovative) empirical efforts. Anne designs and coordinates an EU-funded programme in Libya on Libyan-led dialogue and action. She combines her work with pursuing her PhD degree at the ISS in The Hague. Her research aims to develop insights into alternative human development efforts with a focus on the use of different perspectives to advance civic logic in conflict-affected societies.

 

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Food Wars: Conflict, Hunger, & Globalization

[vc_row css=”.vc_custom_1592900783478{margin-right: 0px !important;margin-left: 0px !important;}”][vc_column css=”.vc_custom_1592900766479{margin-right: 10px !important;margin-left: -10px !important;}”][vc_column_text]Conflict is a key driver of hunger crises, and most countries experiencing food wars rely heavily on primary product exports. In this blog, Marc Cohen and Ellen Messer claim that breaking these links among conflict, hunger, and globalization requires a right to food and livelihood security approach, stronger mechanisms to resolve conflicts, and the provision of impartial humanitarian assistance.[/vc_column_text][vc_separator color=”custom” accent_color=”#a80000″ css=”.vc_custom_1594895181078{margin-top: -15px !important;margin-bottom: 10px !important;}”][vc_single_image image=”27354″ img_size=”full” add_caption=”yes” alignment=”center” onclick=”custom_link” link=”https://pixabay.com/photos/army-conflict-weapon-war-gun-1835299/”%5D%5Bvc_separator color=”custom” accent_color=”#a80000″ css=”.vc_custom_1594895181078{margin-top: -15px !important;margin-bottom: 10px !important;}”][vc_column_text]Over the past 30 years, most wars have been what we call “food wars.” In these conflicts, adversaries use food and hunger as weapons, and they intentionally or incidentally damage food supplies and food-related infrastructure. As a result, food insecurity persists long after the fighting stops. In turn, food insecurity is frequently a trigger or underlying cause of conflict.

In 2022 (the last year with complete data), the links between conflict and hunger were all too apparent, as crisis-level acute food insecurity reached the highest level ever recorded, with violent conflict a key driver. The number of forcibly displaced people reached an all-time high of 108.4 million people, with 70% in countries facing hunger crises.

 

Justifying the Link between Conflict and Hunger

We looked at 45 conflict, refugee-hosting, and conflict legacy countries with populations facing hunger crises—living at Integrated Food Security Phase Classification (IPC) 3 or higher. Acute food insecurity affected nearly 228 million people, accounting for 90% of the global population at IPC 3+. Conflict was a major cause in all 45 countries, although in some, weather extremes or economic shocks were the principal driver. The daily crude death rates associated with IPC 3 implicate conflict-related food insecurity in 6,400-17,600 daily fatalities. Because IPC does not include sex-disaggregated data, we can’t view these stark numbers with a gender lens.

Humanitarian agencies and academics recognize that conflict causes catastrophic hunger. They point to the humanitarian-development-peace Triple Nexus as essential to bridging silos separating emergency aid and food self-reliance. They also aim to build on local actions with due attention to peacebuilding, conflict-sensitivity, and humanitarian and human-rights norms.

There is another, often overlooked dimension to food wars. These crises generally occur in countries that rely heavily on primary product exports—gold and livestock in Sudan, petroleum in South Sudan and Yemen, cotton and cocoa in West Africa, coffee in Ethiopia, minerals in the DRC, and grain and oilseeds in Ukraine. Narco-crops featured prominently in Afghanistan’s and Colombia’s civil wars.

Paradoxically, most peacebuilding efforts see foreign direct investment and an export-oriented economy as a foundation for peace. But focusing on market liberalization without attention to inclusive and legitimate governance can worsen inequality, put countries into a dependent position in the global economy, and create the potential for renewed violence. For example, in Sierra Leone, large scale foreign investment in land, promoted to create jobs and boost tax revenues, has actually resulted in resentment, as many Sierra Leonians lack access to productive resources.

Across the 45 food wars countries, the average share of merchandise trade in GDP was 52%, compared to 40% for low- and middle-income countries. While these figures do not demonstrate causality, they show the clear correlation between globalization and food wars.

Natural resource abundance and dependence on high-value export crops can contribute to civil war outbreaks. In Sub-Saharan Africa, clearing of forests for commercial agricultural activities, often in violation of local laws and regulations, can deprive communities of livelihoods and foment violence and forced migration. Mining operations often have similar results. Markets for high value primary commodities need more careful vetting and regulation to avoid funding and fuelling conflict.

 

Hunger and Globalization Nexus

Globalization is not just global economic connections and liberalized trade and capital flows. It also includes international norms and institutions promoting humanitarianism, human rights, social justice, and fair trade—what we call “globalization’s bright side.”

Political and policy frameworks have in fact strengthened legal foundations for international interventions in food wars. In 2018, the UN Security Council adopted Resolution 2417, condemning starvation as a war crime. But enhanced norms have not yet fostered accountabilities for “starvation crimes.”

Key to bridging the gap between principles and practice would be adoption of more holistic national development strategies, including food-systems approaches that protect and promote the right to food and livelihood security. Food and nutrition policy must also consider conflict, globalization, and climate change. All this requires stronger mechanisms to prevent and resolve conflicts, as well as commitment to provide humanitarian assistance without political conditionalities, taking a Triple Nexus approach. Likewise necessary are an understanding of conflict history and context, and inclusive actions that integrate local capacities, perceptions, and humanitarian leadership.

A key question is how to ensure private-sector social responsibility. Voluntary instruments don’t always deliver the desired outcomes. For example, the chocolate industry’s certifications that it is free from child labor have proved inadequate.

Related efforts seek to link export crops to peace, sustainable livelihoods, and environmental restoration. In Colombia, the Cocoa, Forests, and Peace Plan, supported by the Colombian government, international NGOs, and the private sector, seeks to bolster the livelihoods of small-scale cocoa farmers—many of them women—in sustainable production. Scaling up such promising initiatives remains a work in progress.

 

Policy Direction for Addressing the Links between Conflict and Hunger

The simple answer to the question, “Why is it so hard to break the links between conflict and hunger?” is that these situations involve multiple stressors, including climate and economic volatilities, and are embedded in historical and political-geographic structures of violence. Religious, cultural-political, energy, and other natural-resource factors complicate the regional and global alliances that influence food flows and conflict, particularly in places characterized by severe inequalities and suffering. Economic shocks related to the Russia-Ukraine war have reduced availability of fuel and fertilizer, and increased price volatility in export crop markets, exacerbating conflict-hunger links.

Agricultural export commodities are important sources of revenue for smallholder farmers and governments in conflict-affected, food-insecure countries. Understanding the conflict implications of export- and food-crop value chains is essential for sound policies to address food wars. The supportive involvement of private-sector actors, all along the value chains of these products, could be crucial in charting pathways forward that favor peace. To facilitate such involvement, UN agencies and NGOs should vet and critique foreign investment in land and water from a human rights perspective. Greater transparency around such issues as child and slave labor and environmental impacts could help bring more products into line with environmental and human values.


This blog is based on the authors’ presentation at the 7th International Humanitarian Studies Conference in November 2023.


[/vc_column_text][vc_separator color=”custom” accent_color=”#a80000″ css=”.vc_custom_1594895181078{margin-top: -15px !important;margin-bottom: 10px !important;}”][vc_column_text]Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.[/vc_column_text][vc_separator color=”custom” accent_color=”#a80000″ css=”.vc_custom_1594895181078{margin-top: -15px !important;margin-bottom: 10px !important;}”][vc_column_text css=”.vc_custom_1706777642574{margin-top: 0px !important;}”]About the authors:

Marc J. Cohen (marc22102@aol.com) was Lead Researcher, Aid, Development Finance, and Food Security at Oxfam until his retirement in September 2023.

 

 

 

Ellen Messer (messereg@gmail.com) is Visiting Associate Professor at the Friedman School of Nutrition Science and Policy at Tufts University. Previously, she was Director of the World Hunger Program at Brown University.

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When genocide is reduced to a war of emotions: Personal reflections on academic debates and the war in Palestine by Dina Zbeidy

Recently, universities and other institutions in the Netherlands have put a lot of focus on emotions of people in Europe when discussing the ongoing war on the Palestinians in Gaza. In this blog, Lecturer and Researcher Dina Zbeidy points out that while it is important to create space for emotions, this focus has the danger of shifting attention away from the actual atrocities happening on the ground, the topic these institutions should mainly talk about.

Photo by Mohammed Abubakr on Pexels

In a meeting about organizing events on the current war on Gaza, I noticed how I flinched and had an almost allergic reaction to the (over)use of the word ‘emotions.’ I have been reflecting on my reaction for the last few days to try and understand what exactly bothered me so much, as it was pointed out to me during that meeting that I myself have been very emotional these last three months.

And that is true. I have been an emotional wreck. How can you not be, when you wake up to the images of grey body parts sticking out of concrete rubble and go to bed with images of screaming burnt children and a more families wiped off the face of the earth.  I have felt it all: anger, sadness, frustration, powerlessness, exhaustion.

 

Reducing talking about war crimes to just emotive discussions

Recently, the Dutch minister of education sat with students and staff of academic institutions to discuss how best to organize and talk about what is happening. He urges academic institutions to keep the discussions open, as “you provide many students with an outlet to express their feelings and emotions”. He continues to say: “keep sharing knowledge, have discussions, and create understanding for each other’s perspective.”

From the first sentence, one can deduce that these events, whether panels, teach-ins, sit-ins or other activities, are mainly important as an outlet for emotions – more so than talking about facts on the ground and educating students in the Netherlands on grave ongoing violations of human rights and international law.

(Another thing one can deduce, that I will not address further here, is that talking about the war is framed as a ‘difference in perspective’).

During our meeting, we all agreed that there should be space for emotions. What I think is harmful, however, is reducing the war to a war of emotions (of some) rather than a war on Palestinians.

One example is the following argument that has been repeated in front of me several times these last months: we should refrain from using the term genocide because it might be hurtful to some people.

The assumption usually being that ‘some people’ refers to Israelis in the Netherlands or Dutch people of Jewish background or with family in Israel.

In other words: talking about an ongoing genocide can be hurtful to the feelings of others. That we should be very careful how we talk about the actual loss of life of children, families, parents, and grandparent, and refrain from naming it by what it is, as the feelings of others might be hurt.

My frustration came largely by realizing that civilians being killed in the thousands have to compete with other people’s emotions, and that in educational and academic institutions, these emotions seem to have the upper hand.

Nevertheless, more than 800 genocide scholars have already warned of the possibility of genocide, and the International Court of Justice will deliver its ruling tomorrow (26 January) on  whether in the legal sense, we can speak of genocide.

 

There is a big difference between creating space for expressing and letting out emotions, and reducing the talk about an unfolding genocide to emotions. 

One great place for me to let out and share my emotions have been protests and demonstrations. How powerful it is to know that what you feel is shared by thousands of others. The aim of such events is to show the public, including politicians, that we, in the thousands and globally in the millions, want this war, and the ongoing colonization and oppression, to stop.

When I participate at events, mainly organized by students and staff at academic institutions, I have found myself several times in tears, unable to finish a sentence because of these overwhelming emotions. And I decided early on during this war that I will not force myself to hide and suppress these emotions, not anymore. I loved that people told me that they understood my emotions, and that I should not apologize for having and showing them.

Nevertheless, the content of my talks and my contributions is not on what the war does to my emotions, or anybody else’s emotions for that matter. The topic at hand is not that of (our – we here, safe in Europe) emotions, but about Palestine and the genocide of a people.

I hope that academics, journalists, researchers, teachers, and students, remain vigilant to this distinction. Don’t let the talk about emotions distract us from what we, as part of society, can and should contribute to: facts, analysis, studies, and academic debates.  And yes, there should always be space for emotions – but they should never be (mis)used to oppose, or be silent on, genocide.


Photo Credit: Mohammed Abubakr: https://www.pexels.com/photo/people-with-palestinian-flags-protesting-on-the-street-19028556/


Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

 

Dr. Dina Zbeidy is a Dutch-Palestinian anthropologist. She is a social science lecturer and researcher at the Leiden University of Applied Sciences. Having conducted research on various topics including  Zionism, settler colonialism, displacement, human rights and development work, mainly in the Middle East, her current research focuses on human rights education in the Netherlands.

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Mind the Queer Gap: Bisexual Invisibility in the Women, Peace, and Security Agenda

With several ongoing conflicts, researcher Isabella Cordua considers how Bisexual invisibility in general has contributed to a lack of attention paid to Bisexual people in conflict, and calls for more focus to be placed on LGBTQI+ people, and Bisexual people in particular in the WPS Agenda. [

Image by Adobe Stock

The LGBTQ+ community worldwide continues to grapple with violence, discrimination, and marginalisation, all of which are intensified during conflicts. Reports of violence are all too common – last year, a store owner in the United States was killed following a dispute over displaying a rainbow Pride flag outside her business. Meanwhile, in Uganda, a 20-year-old man faces “aggravated homosexuality” charges, punishable by death under recent homophobic legislation. In Australia, a new report shows that one in two transgender Australians have experienced online and offline anti-trans hate this year, intensified by the proliferation of unchecked anti-trans rhetoric.

However, there is a significant lack of efforts targeted at addressing violence against the queer community, especially during conflict. Resolution 1325 on Women, Peace and Security (WPS), adopted by the Security Council in 2000, largely neglects LGBTQ+ experiences. This oversight persists even though the hatred directed at members of the LGBTQ+ community is fundamentally rooted in the same harmful gender norms and heteronormative female/male binary that create a permissive space for violence against women and girls.

Obtaining LGBTQ+ statistics, especially in countries that criminalise identities outside of the heteropatriarchal binary, can be difficult. However, a study in the US, Canada, Australia, and Norway found that bisexuals make up the majority of the LGBTQ+ community. Paradoxically, they remain under-researched and overlooked by the peace and security community, even when we consider the lack of focus around LGBTQ+ people as a whole.

 

Bisexual Invisibility in Society as a whole

Bisexual people often receive limited support and representation within the LGBTQ+ community, leading to minimal dedicated efforts and funding, of which bisexual women, for example, receive less than 1%. Bisexual men face even greater invisibility due to social stigma, and programming for bisexual genderqueer individuals is virtually non-existent.

The term bisexuality has long been the subject of debate. While it is assumed that the prefix “bi” refers to attraction to only two genders, bisexuality is better understood as homosexual and heterosexual attraction. Thus, bisexuality is a radical critique of heteronormative patriarchal morals and monosexual identity.

 

Compounded Vulnerabilities of Queer and Bisexual Individuals in Conflict

Bisexual individuals tend to be excluded from both heteronormative culture and the LGBTQ+ community, especially when they are in heterosexual relationships. They are labelled as “confused” or merely going through a “phase”. Exclusion thus occurs twice: deemed “too gay” and “too straight” at once, they are pressured to conform to monosexual norms and often feel “alienated” and emotionally “homeless.”

The pressure to conform to hegemonic masculine norms can endanger bisexual men, whose sexuality may be seen as conflicting with societal expectations of the “real man”. Top of FormBottom of Form Meanwhile, bisexual women may face comparable discrimination and abuse to lesbians when they are in same-sex relationships or express same-sex desires, betraying patriarchal assumptions around women’s perceived dependence on men.

Bisexuals often feel compelled to conceal their sexual orientation, particularly during conflicts, to conform to societal norms. While the ability to “pass” as heterosexual may be seen as a privilege, the necessity to do so to avoid harm constitutes a form of violence in itself.

Bisexuals’ nonconformity can see them stereotyped as promiscuous and untrustworthy. These harmful perceptions make them more vulnerable to sexual and gender-based violence, particularly “corrective” rape perpetrated in an effort to “cure” them. In sexually repressive communities, these stereotypes heighten risks, driven by the urge to control bodies, particularly female bodies, and sexuality against heteropatriarchal norms.

Since violence and targeting of those who do not conform to hegemonic masculinity intensify amid conflict, bisexual people’s challenge to binary expressions of sexual orientation deserves greater attention from peace and conflict specialists. To start with, the WPS agenda needs to be reframed to better accommodate intersectional gender perspectives that address the multiple ways that gendered discrimination is experienced. This approach can provide better insights for addressing violence in both times of peace and war.

 

Expanding Gender Inclusion in the WPS Agenda

Resolution 1325 marked a shift in recognising women in conflict beyond victimhood, yet embraced an essentialist interpretation of their role. Critics argue that the WPS agenda conflates ‘women’ and ‘gender,’ promoting a binary view and limiting its focus to cisgender, heteronormative women, ignoring broader gender perspectives in conflict.

This binary and essentialist approach limits the scope and effect of the WPS agenda, which fails to address any departure from the ideal of the “asexual good woman.” Expressions of sexuality challenging this norm are seen as barriers to women’s participation in peace efforts. Indeed, the WPS agenda overlooks lesbian, bisexual, and transgender women, leaving their unique experiences of conflict-related violence unaddressed.

As is, the WPS agenda fails to recognise that all forms of gender-based violence stem from harmful gender norms that perpetuate the subordination of women and devalue femininity in favour of a specific hegemonic masculinity. This omission alienates gay and bisexual men and transgender and non-binary individuals, who face violence due to their identities and sexual orientation. It also hinders conflict resolution efforts and perpetuates the invisibility of queer experiences.

To truly address gendered violence in conflict and promote lasting peace, the WPS agenda must evolve to include the experiences of LGBTQ+ individuals. Queerness can be a major factor that makes individuals vulnerable to violence in conflict settings and needs to be better understood.

The bisexual community navigate unique challenges due to their defiance of heteropatriarchal norms and monosexual morals. Yet, their experiences remain invisible also because they are often grouped within the broader LGBTQ+ framework, which is itself overlooked.


Image Credit: https://stock.adobe.com/ie/images/a-rainbow-flag-standing-tall-amid-the-destruction-of-war-lgbtq-pride-flag/631638932


Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

Isabella Cordua is a Rotary Peace Fellow at the University of Queensland. Before receiving the fellowship, Isabella worked as Research Coordinator at the Network for Empowered Aid Response (NEAR). She has previously led research and advocacy for other renowned organisations, including Global Insight, the Cyrus R. Vance Center for International Justice, AdvocAid, and Defence for Children Sierra Leone.

 

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Fallout from Gaza: An academic community’s responses to the situation in Palestine

Few regional conflicts have had as much of a global impact as the conflict between Israel and Palestine. Outbursts of violence, like the terrorist Hamas attacks and taking of hostages of October 7 and Israel’s massive retaliatory attacks since then, have sparked strong responses everywhere, including in our academic community at the International Institute of Social Studies. Having experienced those dynamics for two months now, it is time for some reflections. I offer mine, as rector of ISS, but obviously also as one human being among all.

Feeling

The first layer of responses in our academic community post-October 7 were emotional in nature. A number of students, PhD-candidates, and staff were not simply shocked or “uncomfortable” about what they saw. They were enraged by the sheer magnitude of the Israeli military response and the enormous humanitarian consequences for the Gazan population, including for so many children. This sense of rage stays on until today, fueled by what they regard as a lack of responsibility by other countries, by international organizations, and also by universities, including the ISS. ‘Why’, they asked, ‘do universities not explicitly condemn Israel’s actions that punish the whole Palestinian population in response to a terrorist act, speak out against genocide and apartheid, join the BDS-movement (boycott, disinvest, sanction Israël), and choose the side of the Palestinian victims of oppression?’

For me, this emotional layer is an important one, because it deals with our gut feelings, our moral intuitions, our fundamental stance when human dignity is trampled upon. It cannot be dismissed as ‘mere feelings’. It is also important because it signifies that we are all affected as human beings. To a degree we are experiencing a form of indirect and collective traumatization, which means that we don’t respond only rationally, but also from our fundamental instincts. Just like we cannot expect people in Gaza and Israel to respond in a purely rational manner to a life-threatening situation, we cannot expect those within our academic community to be fully rational when the foundations of morality and security are shocked.

Hence, the first thing we needed at the outset, to process this rage, was care and safety, not debates and fights. This holds true for those who have been personally affected because they have family and friends who have been living in Israel and Palestine. As university leaders, we immediately reached out to our staff, PhD candidates and students who we knew had a direct connection with the region. For example, we learned that one member of our academic community has lost more than 45 members of their family in Gaza in the past two months. We obviously missed a few people, because we didn’t always know each other’s connections, and this is something for us to reflect on for the future.

 

Thinking

Offering care for these feelings is not enough. As an academic institution, we are called to bring our knowledge and insight to a troubled and complex world. We have supported our scholars who have engaged in public appearances, for example on humanitarian issues and international rights and who have published opinion pieces. We organized a Teach-In just two weeks after 7 October at both our Hague (ISS) and Rotterdam (Woudestein) campuses, in which lecturers shared their insights on trauma, human rights, the position of children, the political economy and also the role of media in filtering information. These Teach-Ins, held at Erasmus University and other academic institutions, in which our faculty members also participated, helped not only to share knowledge. They also helped to transform a primarily emotion-driven response into one that also incorporated an academic and analytical attitude. By engaging with psychological, legal, humanitarian, historical, developmental and economic insights, we moved to a second layer of responses in which we asked ourselves how academics can contribute to thinking about a meaningful way of coping with the tragedies and cruelties we witness in the world.

The Teach-Ins were valuable, but not easy. The process of challenging each other to reflect, academically was not self-evident. Emotions still played a major role in framing peoples’ responses within our community, but also triggered a plea for institutional action. Here we faced a dilemma in that many of those participating in these and similar events shared a particular perspective on the situation in Gaza; this made the opportunities for dialogue less diverse and inclusive than they could have been. Students and staff who might be inclined to sympathize with Israeli population or to critique Palestine leadership were less visible. Some students approached me at different moments asking why we showed less interest in other conflicts, oppressions, and human rights violations in the world. They felt excluded that events focused only on Gaza, especially when accompanied by strong moral messaging. This remains a dilemma: how to accommodate and support, on the one hand, our community members who feel that we should speak out and act, and on the other hand, respond to members who feel that attention should also be given to Yemen, Sudan, Azerbaijan, Ethiopia or Myanmar.

 

Acting

That brings me to a third layer of responses: action. This took shape already in the early days of the post-October 7 surge of violence when students protested on our doorstep and remained visible in posters and messages distributed among our community. It was presented to the ISS leadership in the form of a request to issue explicit statements and break ties with Israeli institutions. Anything less than that would be understood by a substantial part of our community as neglecting our moral responsibility as an institution devoted to social justice. At the same time, we had to look critically at the role of academics and institutions in the midst of massive disinformation that sometimes also limits our potential to reach conclusions about what is happening.

Navigating these demands, it was clear for me and colleagues  in university leadership positions that we indeed needed to act. Neutrality in the face of violence is not an option. But we were also very clear that our role had to be knowledge-based and that our primary task was and remains to preserve academic freedom and to facilitate our scholars – from students to professors – to contribute their academic insights to society. We are grateful for the courage of all our scholars to do so and for the wisdom they bring to the world. We have witnessed how they have condemned the Hamas atrocities and also addressed Israeli atrocities, including violations of humanitarian law, and especially the cruelty of punishing an entire population with – as they argued – genocidal intent.

As an academic institute, we exercise restraint in speaking out by way of performative statements, especially because the protection of academic freedom is necessary to safeguard the space for our scholars to speak the truth. When the university itself defines what counts as true, just, and right, that immediately restricts the freedom of other academics. We do not remain neutral because we are afraid to take a stand. It is absolutely clear that as an institution committed to researching Global Development and Social Justice, we stand for the protection of human rights, for the assertion of humanitarian responsibilities, and for the need to ensure peace, justice and accountability. However, the Institute refrains from speaking out beyond these general principles. This will always remain a balancing act between saying too much and saying too little.

The fallout from the present tragedy in Gaza will continue to affect us. It leaves us with dilemmas on how to act. We will continue to organize care for the members of our community who are suffering. We will facilitate learning and nurture critical thinking. We will build our networks internationally and stimulate joint academic contributions towards a just world. We will not be unaffected. Indeed, we feel there should be more done than what we are capable of doing as academics. And when we operate as an institution with this kind of restraint, we are aware it will not be enough in the eyes of a substantial part of our community. But, we may be most effective if we contribute what suits our role: universities protecting academic freedom, so that scholars can share their knowledge and insights with the world, and scholar-activists take the firmer stand. The dialogue between those roles can hold us together in working toward a peaceful future.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

Prof. dr. (Ruard) RR Ganzevoort is the rector of the International Institute of Social Studies in Den Haag (part of Erasmus University Rotterdam) as well as professor of Lived Religion and Development.

 

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Misinformation on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is spreading like wildfire on social media — here’s why we keep reading fake news and what we can do to change it

Can you trust what you read on social media about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict? Even some of the most popular posts are misleading. With more and more people using social media as their primary news source, how can we make sure that we’re getting accurate information? This question becomes much more relevant in times of conflict, where misinformation could cause widescale violence. In this blog article, Tom Ansell looks at misinformation in times of conflict and what we can do to encourage better reporting in fast-moving and dangerous contexts.

Image source: Pexels 

Twitter/X has been accused of stoking the fires of the ongoing Israeli-Palestinian conflict by multiplying misinformation. Examples include a video shared over seven million times that supposedly shows Israeli soldiers going house to house in Gaza City. In reality, the video is from 2021 and actually shows an Israeli police operation. Another example is a video of Hamas fighters ‘shooting down an Israeli helicopter’ that is from a video game and has been viewed by over 300,000 people.

These posts are not only pushing false narratives but are also spreading emotionally charged misinformation that can certainly stoke more violence. With the cause of the explosion at the al-Ahli Baptist Hospital in Gaza unclear, and with competing narratives from Gazan and Israeli authorities, plenty of misleading accounts have sprung up on Twitter/X that show videos reportedly of the explosion but that are actually from 2022, which has further inflamed tensions.

This is a worrying development for two reasons. First, engagement with and trust in ‘legacy’ media organisations, including national newspapers and media conglomerates, is at an all-time low across the world. Accurate and nuanced reporting that has been factually verified is no longer the dominant way for people to get their news. In various countries worldwide, more than half of people get their news from social media, including in Spain (50%), India (52%), Turkey (54%), Hungary (61%), Greece (61%), Peru (66%), and Nigeria (78%), according to Statista.

Second, people seem to be more likely to spread false information. An MIT study from 2018 suggests that Tweets (or X’s) that contain lies are 70% more likely to be retweeted compared to truthful posts, likely due to users’ ‘novelty bias’ (where new, surprising information is shared), or due to social media websites’ own algorithms.

Meanwhile, only a few weeks ago, the EU formally warned Twitter and Facebook about the growing proportion of misinformation on their networks, a warning that was re-iterated in the wake of the new waves of violence in Israel and Palestine. Whilst there are fact-checking accounts and initiatives on both networks (and also on Instagram, LinkedIn, TikTok, etc.), the real-world impact of mis- and disinformation that were identified in the COVID-19 pandemic has now come back sharply into focus with the ongoing campaign of violence in Israel and Palestine.

 

Why we read and spread disinformation

An appetite for quick information and near real-time updates has never been higher. And with few journalists immediately available and able to build a clear picture in a fast-moving context, an information gap grows. It’s precisely this gap that technology-focused and consumer-hungry social media networks fill by providing super quick updates and, often, photos and videos from the centre of a conflict zone that can push emotionally charged narratives and incite further violence.

Whilst there are large numbers of journalists from multinational legacy media organisations that can access conflict zones — usually wearing the famous blue ‘press’ bulletproof vest — — places where there is no authoritative or fact-checked source of news. This is particularly true for acute outbreaks of severe violence, where it is nearly impossible for a news organisation that is held to a high standard of accuracy to access the conflict zone. And when people cannot access authoritative news sources, they turn to alternative sources such as social media.

In protracted and lower-intensity conflicts, too, it is likely that local media will be unable to operate whether due to power cuts, looting, commandeering of equipment, or attacks on staff. And let’s not forget that in contexts with authoritarian governments, an independent local media is likely to suffer. Again, this can feed into a situation where people cannot access information from trusted sources and may turn to social media for the latest news updates.

Moreover, what drives engagement is often activating strong emotional responses in users through, for example, powerful images, videos, or narratives. Particularly within a conflict situation, by definition multilayered and complex, this leads the internal mechanisms of social media companies (“the algorithms”) to spotlight easily accessible and emotionally charged content. This combined with a huge hunger for information seems to lead in one direction: emotionally charged narratives reaching thousands of people without factual verification.

 

Social media provides lots of information, but often of low quality

As with many laissez-faire approaches, openness and freedom is to a certain extent an illusion. This is because, in the case of Twitter and Meta (the parent company of Instagram and Facebook), the company doesn’t exist to provide an information service- it exists to satisfy its shareholders and investors. The model for making money from social media is now fairly well researched, but in short: social media companies work as advertising platforms and sell advertising space. The longer someone engages with the platform, the more can be charged for advertising space.

The great equalising hope for peer to peer (P2P) media, where anyone can publish their views and ideas without editorial gatekeeping, including social media, is that it can give disempowered people a platform to voice their grievances or struggle and can reach audiences without waiting for a legacy media company to provide that platform. Within a conflict situation, this could extend to giving civilians a voice in the conflict or providing an outlet for non-state actors to give ‘their side of the story’.

However, whilst there are plenty of cases of legacy media organisations stoking hate, there is at least some basis for holding them legally accountable, even if it is slow-moving and limited. Social media companies, on the other hand, are not classified as ‘publishers’ and so do not have to kneel to publishing guidelines and law.

 

A role for citizen journalists and more strictly regulated platforms?

So, how can we find a balance between providing platforms for those people who are routinely missed by legacy organisations to speak their truths? One option could be equitable partnerships between media platforms and citizen journalists. Outlets like The Guardian seem to have a workable model for this.

Another solution could be strong legislation that considers social media organisations as the publishers that they are, and so holds them legally accountable for spreading misinformation. Perhaps a longer-term and more holistic solution, though, is creating platforms where the overall target is sharing accurate information and true voices, rather than seeking maximum returns on investment.


Image source: Pexels & Pexels.


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Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

Tom Ansell is the Coordinator of the Humanitarian Studies Centre and International Humanitarian Studies Association.

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The recent upsurge of violence in Israel and Palestine signifies a “prelude to genocide”. How could this happen?

The tragedy that has been continually unfolding in Palestine for the past 75 years recently took a dramatic turn when Palestinian armed groups broke through the steel gates closing off Gaza and entered Israel on 7 October 2023. While the details of what occurred are gruesome, but also very unclear, their actions led to a further escalation by Israel, with senior figures in the Israeli government vowing revenge in terms that are tantamount to an incitement to commit genocide. The massive loss of human life and deliberate targeting of civilians has been accompanied by feelings of incredulity. People are asking: How could this happen? In this article, human rights and legal mobilisation scholar Jeff Handmaker provides some context.

Boiling point reached after many years of oppression

Even for someone like myself who has been closely following the situation in Palestine for more than 25 years, the human cost of what we have been seeing in the past few days has been difficult to fathom. Veteran Ha’aretz journalist Amira Hass in describing the sheer scale of what’s currently happening noted that:

In a few days Israelis went through what Palestinians have experienced as a matter of routine for decades, and are still experiencing – military incursions, death, cruelty, slain children, bodies piled up in the road, siege, fear, anxiety over loved ones, captivity, being targets of vengeance, indiscriminate lethal fire at both those involved in the fighting (soldiers) and the uninvolved (civilians), a position of inferiority, destruction of buildings, ruined holidays or celebrations, weakness and helplessness in the face of all-powerful armed men, and searing humiliation.

Hass’s statement captures why it is so challenging for Israelis and Palestinians (and their supporters) to recognise the other’s humanity. Israelis find it hard to see the other’s humanity, as they have been promised that they would be safe and secure behind colonial borders and have only now experienced atrocities at this scale. Palestinians also find it hard to see the other’s humanity as they have never suffered the illusion that they were safe and secure behind colonial borders and have been experiencing atrocities at this scale for more than 75 years.

 

The Hamas attack didn’t come out of the blue

It is important in this context to understand what was behind the attacks by Hamas-affiliated groups, purportedly in response to Israel’s appalling treatment of Palestinians who remain under occupation in the Gaza Strip. It was purportedly also linked to the Israeli government’s open support of settler colonialism in the West Bank, as well as brutal attacks against largely peaceful demonstrators during the “Great March of Return”  in 2018 and recent provocations around the Al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem. One should remember what life in Palestine looks like at present, particularly in the Gaza Strip, and how it got there.

To begin with, Gaza is one of the most densely populated regions in the world, with more than two million people living in an area of approximately 362 square kilometres (smaller than the Caribbean island of Curacao, which has a population of 153,000). Moreover, Gaza has been subject to a strict military blockade since 2007 that has limited the freedom and opportunities of Palestinians in a fundamental way. It is frequently described as an open-air prison, and many have called the oppressive governance of the area by Israel as nothing other than an apartheid state. This is why the attack on 7 October has been referred to by commentators such as Israeli journalist Amira Hass as part of a “cycle of violence” that “shouldn’t surprise anyone”. In other words, it should be seen in context and not as an isolated event.

 

Reacting to a long history of domination and oppression

To grasp the deeper context of the current violence, it’s also important to understand three key historical moments, none of which obviously excuses the committing of international crimes. Each of these historical moments has involved extensive human rights violations and international crimes in the context of Israel’s long record of domination and oppression of Palestinians.

The first key moment was in 1948, when Zionist founders of the State of Israel committed a series of operations which, according to scholars such as Walid Khalidi, Ilan Pappe, and Nur Masalha, amounted to a mass expulsion and ‘ethnic cleansing’ of historical Palestine. This is referred to by Palestinians as the ‘Nakba’, or ‘Catastrophe’. Approximately one-third of uprooted and dispossessed Palestinians ended up living in refugee camps in Gaza, the West Bank, Jordan, Syria, and Lebanon, assisted by the United Nations and other humanitarian agencies. Around one-quarter of these refugees today reside in refugee camps in Gaza, and comprising around two-thirds of the population of Gaza.

The second key moment was the Israeli military’s capture of additional territories in 1967, including the West Bank, East Jerusalem, Golan, and Gaza. This resulted in further and forced displacement, movement restrictions, and other daily restrictions as Israel established settlements in the occupied territory. Israel withdrew the settlers 38 years later but has continuously maintained its occupation of the Gaza territory by air, sea, and land.

The third and most recent moment is Israel’s blockade of the territory starting 2007 in its current, extreme form, whereby it has been extremely difficult, and at times impossible, for Palestinians living in Gaza to access medicine, building materials, food, humanitarian assistance, and even electricity and water. Patients requiring advanced medical care that the overstretched hospitals in Gaza cannot provide have limited options due to the blockade, and as a result, many – including children – have died of easily treatable ailments. According to Physicians for Human Rights, the deteriorating healthcare situation has been particularly straining for women in Gaza. The ability of students to study abroad has also been extremely limited. Moreover, according to the United Nations, during the course of several brutal military operations, Israel has killed more than 6,400 Palestinians.

While these were key moments in what many commentators have characterised as Israel’s settler-colonial and apartheid regime against Palestinians, it is impossible to explain all dimensions. Suffice it to say that numerous documented violations that have been committed throughout these periods are currently the subject of an international criminal investigation by the International Criminal Court, albeit greatly delayed.

 

From oppression to onslaught

This brings us to 9 October 2023, when the government of Israel announced a “total” blockade of the Gaza Strip, including cutting off the electricity, food, and water supply to the area. Gazans were warned by Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu that they are to pay an “immense price” for the actions of Hamas and have warned Palestinians to “get out of there [Gaza] now” as the Israeli military was going to “turn all Hamas hiding places … into rubble”.

Of course, Netanyahu knows full well that Palestinians in Gaza have nowhere to go; Israel’s military have even bombed the one remaining exit route, the Rafah Crossing, and have refused to set up a humanitarian corridor. Thus, at a bare minimum, Israel’s actions amount to the war crime of collective punishment, directed at a captive population with nowhere to go. And with 300,000 Israeli reservists having been called up to serve in active military duty, fears are that the consequences for the people of Gaza could be far greater than they have ever been before.

 

A prelude to genocide?

Some years ago, Richard Falk, a Princeton University professor and former United Nations Special Rapporteur on the situation of human rights in the Palestinian territories, was said to have characterised the ongoing siege of Gaza as a “prelude to genocide”.[i] It is immensely worrying that more and more parties are starting to believe that Falk’s sober prediction might be coming true. Human rights NGOs have long referred to the oppression of the Palestinians and the control of Gaza as a crime against humanity.[ii] However, it is especially recent events and public proclamations of retaliation by Netanyahu as well as by military commanders referring to Gazans as ‘human animals’ and vowing to give them ‘hell’, that are making Falk’s claim seem more and more believable.

Taken together, the evidence suggests there are very well-founded fears that what we are now witnessing are very explicit intentions to accomplish the genocide of the Palestinian residents of Gaza. Rather than simply asking how this could happen and extending unconditional diplomatic support and military aid to Israel, observers of this carnage should also ask themselves how the carnage can be stopped. The answer is certainly not to commit further atrocities.


[i] These developments should also be seen in light of the ethnic cleansing of Armenians in Nagorno Karabakh in September 2023, in which Israel also played a central role in and for which there have been limited consequences for the government of Azerbaijan, could readily be seen as a prelude to genocide in and of itself.

[ii] While Gazans have long characterised that what they are experiencing as a ‘slow-motion genocide’ that has created an almost uninhabitable situation for many of its two million inhabitants, Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International, B’tselem and others have characterised as the oppression of Palestinians in Gaza as an apartheid regime, which like genocide is also a crime against humanity. Reinforcing these concerns, a group of eight renowned Palestinian research institutes and human rights organizations, including Al Haq, have further explained how Israel’s discriminatory and exclusionary polices are an explicit and expansive tool of settler-colonialism and ‘structural and institutionalised racism’.


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About the author:

Dr. Jeff Handmaker is Associate Professor of Legal Sociology at the International Institute of Social Studies of Erasmus University Rotterdam and has published widely on topics concerning Israel’s decades-long impasse with the Palestinians. He conducts research on legal mobilization.

 

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Could we have prevented the disaster in Libya?

New research published this month gives a better understanding of how and why countries affected by armed conflict are more vulnerable to disasters. In this post, two of the co-authors of this research argue that much of the loss caused by Hurricane Daniel could have been prevented in Libya.

Image by Hans from Pixabay

As Libya’s death toll rises over the thousands due to the massive floods triggered by Hurricane Daniel, it’s normal to wonder if such a catastrophe could have been prevented. Over 5,000 people lost their lives in Libya as torrential rain caused two dams to burst near the coastal city of Derna. Relentless rain devastated much of the city, washing entire neighbourhoods into the sea and claiming thousands of lives while leaving tens of thousands of people without shelter.

While authorities and the media have largely attributed the catastrophe to a disaster caused by climate change, evidence suggests that it could have been largely prevented or its impacts mitigated. New research we published this month gives a better understanding of how and why countries affected by armed conflict are more vulnerable to disasters. In this post, based on this study we show how conflict increases human vulnerability to natural hazards and how this could also be the case for Libya — a situation that could have been prevented.

A country ill prepared

Libya has been torn apart by years of conflict, rendering it ill prepared to face the devastation of Hurricane Daniel. The nation is now governed by two rival administrations — in other words two rival governments forming a transitional unity government with strong rivalry, which complicates and slows rescue and aid efforts. In addition, Libya’s infrastructure has suffered from neglect over more than a decade of political turmoil.

A study we just published along with Dorothea Hilhorst on how armed conflict contributes to disaster vulnerability shows that in countries experiencing armed conflict, disasters occur 5% more frequently and that the death rate due to disasters is an incredible 34% higher in such contexts. While most accounts of disaster occurrence focus on their associated death toll or people affected, their higher chance of occurrence should not be taken lightly, especially in places affected by conflict: while people might survive a disaster, the impact of these on their livelihoods can be significant, with their opportunities to recover also reduced.

We found multiple reasons why disasters occur more often, result in higher numbers of deaths, and can significantly impact people’s lives in places affected by conflict.

 

Poorly maintained and ageing infrastructure

First, conflict causes destruction and prevents the development and maintenance of infrastructure essential to prevent disasters, such as the dams that have been left in disrepair throughout Libya. As we now know, experts had already noted that the first of the two dams to fail, which was finished in 1977, had not undergone any maintenance over the last years.

 

A lack of financial protection from disasters’ effects

Protracted wars also damage a country’s economy, reducing opportunities to invest in building and maintaining low-risk livelihoods and increasing people’s vulnerability, making them more susceptible to be affected by natural hazards such as flooding and wildfires. For example, people are less likely to have savings or reserves in place when a disaster hits. Communities often do not have the resources to commit to longer-term planning to build more resilient livelihoods away from risk zones. Two large dams built in the narrow valley in Derna were highly vulnerable because the area was filled with poorly constructed high-rise buildings.

 

Already displaced and with nowhere to flee to

In addition, wars often force people to flee their homes, leaving them in displacement camps and sheltering with families or friends. This increases their vulnerability to disasters. For example, when flooding hit the world’s largest refugee site in Bangladesh, Rohingya families sheltering there had nowhere to flee to and were stuck living in flooded areas, which made them susceptible to illnesses and disease.

The above examples all show that it is not exposure to hazards driving their devastating effects; rather people’s socio-economic vulnerability and social and political decisions affecting built environments, financial security, and overall stability play an equally great role. Climate change can affect the frequency and intensity of these hazards, but if communities are well prepared for them, these events do not have to become disasters. In the case of Libya, while the civil war ended in 2020, the political situation in the country remains fragile. The UN-facilitated ceasefire in 2020 succeeded in ending militarized clashes between eastern and western armed groups, but much remains to be done to disarm, demobilize, and reintegrate militants, stabilize the economy, and reduce the vulnerability of the population resulting from a lack of financial opportunities and weakened infrastructure.

 

Disasters are not natural

What we argue is that vulnerability created through conflict and fragility conditions play a bigger role in disasters’ occurrence than ‘exogenous’ natural events. As many scholars have already observed, disasters are socially constructed phenomena that can be prevented. And while climate change can increase the frequency and intensity of events like storms and heatwaves, proper preparation can prevent them from turning into disasters.

 

Barriers to preparedness

Unfortunately, conflict settings can create significant barriers to preparedness, leading to catastrophic outcomes, as seen in the recent events in Libya. Therefore, in addition to ending the violence, conflict-affected communities also need to be provided with a safe environment that enables them to prepare and which reduces the risk of being affected by disasters.

Finally, the disaster in Libya also highlights another aspect of the interaction between conflict and disaster. Not only should addressing disaster risks receive more immediate attention in the aftermath of war; conflict prevention, resolution, and peacebuilding should be priority approaches to disaster risk reduction anywhere in the world.


Further information

If you would like to know more about the research into how armed conflict contributes to disaster vulnerability, watch this short one-minute video.


Disclaimer

This post was originally published in PRIO Blogs.


Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the authors:

Nicolás Caso is a Research Assistant at PRIO’s Migration Centre. His research covers diverse aspects of human development including migration, disaster, and conflict studies. At PRIO he currently works mainly conducting quantitative analyses for two high-profile large projects Aligning Migration Management and the Migration–Development Nexus (MIGNEX) and Future Migration as Present Fact (FUMI). Before joining PRIO he researched the interaction between conflict and disasters as part of the NWO funded project “When disasters meet conflict“.

 

 

 

 

Rodrigo Mena is Assistant Professor of Disasters and Humanitarian Studies at The International Institute of Social Studies of Erasmus University Rotterdam. Dr. Mena has studied and worked in humanitarian assistance/aid, disaster governance, and environmental sociology for almost twenty years, especially in conflict-affected and vulnerable settings. He lectures on humanitarian action, disaster risk reduction, methodology, and safety and security for in-situ/fieldwork research.

 

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How is the war on Ukraine affecting international development? A look at lesser-heard stories about winners, losers, and the unknowns

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[vc_row css=”.vc_custom_1592900783478{margin-right: 0px !important;margin-left: 0px !important;}”][vc_column css=”.vc_custom_1592900766479{margin-right: 10px !important;margin-left: -10px !important;}”][vc_column_text]The impacts of the war in Ukraine — the largest conflict in Europe since the Second World War — are enormous. The war’s ripple effects are permeating international relations, international organizations, and trade. An important question is who is winning and losing, in which ways, and what we can do about it. During the fourth episode of Research InSightS LIVE held on 29 June, three ISS researchers discussed the compounding effects of the war on global development. In this blog, Adinda Ceelen and Isabella Brozinga Zandonadi summarize the key takeaways of the discussion.[/vc_column_text][vc_separator color=”custom” accent_color=”#a80000″ css=”.vc_custom_1594895181078{margin-top: -15px !important;margin-bottom: 10px !important;}”][vc_single_image image=”24731″ img_size=”full” add_caption=”yes” alignment=”center” onclick=”custom_link” link=”https://unsplash.com/photos/fKf9bmZUSmA”%5D%5Bvc_separator color=”custom” accent_color=”#a80000″ css=”.vc_custom_1594895181078{margin-top: -15px !important;margin-bottom: 10px !important;}”][vc_column_text]Losers of this war

Russia’s war on Ukraine has had devastating effects on more than 40 million Ukrainian people. This includes the displacement of millions of Ukrainians from their homes and from Ukraine itself. At present, there are more than 5 million internally displaced people (IDPs) in Ukraine, more than 8 million Ukrainian refugees across Europe, and approximately 17.6 million people in Ukraine in need of humanitarian assistance.

Beyond displacement, the war has had ripple effects that continue to be felt all over the world. In many ways this war is a game changer, not least due to its extensive global dimension, with many countries directly or indirectly involved, for instance by supplying weapons to Ukraine and implementing sanctions. Moreover, it has far-reaching consequences that are impacting the lives of millions of people far removed from the epicenter of the conflict.

In the fourth episode of , a series of engaged discussions with ISS researchers and societal partners on current topics, Dr Oane Visser, Associate Professor in Agrarian Studies at the ISS, painted a vivid picture of the compounding effect of this war on food security. Ukraine and Russia together account for more than 30% of the global wheat supply and are major suppliers to low- and middle-income countries. Disruptions in the supply chain have led to shortages and higher prices with great negative repercussions for countries like Egypt and Sudan that heavily rely on these imports. The weaker bargaining position of smaller low-income countries makes it more challenging for them to secure affordable deals, with devastating effects.

 

Speculators and profiteers are exploiting higher food and land prices

Media and policy discourses are quick to attribute skyrocketing food prices to the war in Ukraine, on top of the lingering effects of the COVID-19 pandemic and poor harvests due to climate change. But Visser revealed that there is more to this story: the role of speculation and hidden profiteering. According to a 2023 publication by Unearthed, a “group of ten leading ‘momentum-driven’ hedge funds made an estimated USD 1.9 billion trading on the food price spike at the start of the Ukraine war, that drove millions into hunger”. The lessons learned: while it’s important to look at who is suffering, it’s equally important to investigate who wins and who profit(eer)s.

Visser presented another lesser-heard story from Ukraine, where a recent change in law allowing the sale of farmland raises concerns about foreign investors and oligarchs taking over agricultural land and jeopardizing the livelihoods of local farmers. Ironically, while Ukrainians are fighting to defend their land in the face of foreign aggression, simultaneously there is a push to sell large amounts of this land to foreigners.

Both stories can be linked to Naomi Klein’s concept of disaster capitalism, where unpopular reforms are pushed through during times of crises, shock, and paralysis.

 

Small, vulnerable countries are profoundly affected by the war

Meanwhile, in the discourse around the Russian war on Ukraine, the perspective of smaller and more vulnerable countries like Sri Lanka are rarely heard. Dr Shyamika Jayasundara-Smits, Assistant Professor in Conflict and Peace Studies at the ISS, expressed concern about this and emphasized the importance of paying attention to narratives and power dynamics.

When it comes to the ripple effects of the war, Sri Lanka did not remain untouched, evidenced amongst others by soaring food and fuel prices. The country was already in a highly vulnerable state — a product of the 2019 Easter bombings, the COVID-19 pandemic and its residual effects, negative impacts of climate change on agriculture, and dire governmental mismanagement. The Ukraine war made the country even more vulnerable to the looming economic crisis — the worst since the country’s independence. It taught the country a critical lesson: vulnerability is not only due to external factors but can also be born out of poor domestic policy.

Sri Lanka’s historical non-aligned foreign policy history in which it benefited from relations with Russia, China and Western institutions means that it cannot afford to take a strong stance. It necessitates a certain level of pragmatism. When the sanctions put in place against Russia ironically led to avenues of working around them, for instance with Russia diverting its trade through Asia, the Sri Lankan government for instance bought Russian oil from India at a subsidized price to tackle its population’s need of the hour.

 

The war is an attack on the liberal international order

The Ukraine war is indeed not only a European war, but a war that concerns all people and governments. During the discussion, Wil Hout, Professor of Governance and International Political Economy, explained how this war is an attack by Putin on the liberal international order. This order, established after the Second World War, has been critiqued for its legitimacy. The rules are dominated by the West and biased towards the immediate WWII power situation.

While the majority of countries voted for the March 2022 and February 2023 UN General Assembly resolutions condemning the invasion and demanding Russia’s withdrawal, which can be interpreted as continuing support for the existing order, it’s noteworthy that in both cases economic heavyweights such as China, India, and South Africa abstained from voting. Meanwhile, there are many speculations of new alliances, but the reality is that we simply do not know where things are heading, nor how this war will end. One scenario is a Russian defeat, for instance in the form of Russia leaving the Donbas or Crimea. Another scenario is the continued occupation of part of Ukraine, which might result in a new cold war and bring back to life the “Disunited Nations” that we saw during the Cold War period.

 

Moving from analysis to action

“Peace is needed today more than ever. War and conflict are unleashing devastation, poverty and hunger, and driving tens of millions of people from their homes,” said UN Secretary General António Guterres. Indeed, at the end of the day, war only creates losers. Considering this observation, what are the next steps?

For one, the EU has for a very long time pretended that it’s not a global power. It’s inevitable for the EU to stop pretending and to start adopting a political identity, thought Hout. Meanwhile, the world’s gaze is still too often on the here and now. Visser noted that we need to learn to think and plan ahead: How are we going to rebuild Ukraine after the war and ensure democratic control over recovery efforts? And lastly, our current order was established at a time when our situation was dramatically different. Jayasundara-Smits believes that contemporary interdependent relations of countries need to be taken much more seriously now and in the future, in times of both war and peace.


About Research InSightS LIVE

Research InSightS LIVE is ISS’ showcase event series to jointly share, reflect on and discuss insights and stories from ISS’ cutting-edge research in the field of global development and social justice. True to the DNA of ISS, these critical conversations are based on real-world insights and draw from a kaleidoscope of perspectives.


[/vc_column_text][vc_separator color=”custom” accent_color=”#a80000″ css=”.vc_custom_1594895181078{margin-top: -15px !important;margin-bottom: 10px !important;}”][vc_column_text]Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.[/vc_column_text][vc_separator color=”custom” accent_color=”#a80000″ css=”.vc_custom_1594895181078{margin-top: -15px !important;margin-bottom: 10px !important;}”][vc_column_text css=”.vc_custom_1695116359109{margin-top: 0px !important;}”]About the authors:

 

Adinda Ceelen is Knowledge Broker & Research Communications Advisor at ISS. Her background is in public international law, development studies and international relations. She holds an Advanced Master in International Development (AMID) diploma from Radboud University, an LL.M degree from Utrecht University and a BA degree from University College Utrecht.

 

 

 

Isabella Brozinga Zandonadi is the AMID Trainee and works as a Junior Research Project and Communication Officer at ISS. Her background is in legal studies, international and European Law, human rights law and international development studies. She is currently enrolled in the Advanced master’s in international development (AMID) programme from Radboud University, and she holds an LL.M degree from Maastricht University and a Law degree from Faculdade de Direito de Vitoria.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column css=”.vc_custom_1596795191151{margin-top: 5% !important;}”][vc_separator color=”custom” accent_color=”#a80000″ css=”.vc_custom_1594895181078{margin-top: -15px !important;margin-bottom: 10px !important;}”][vc_column_text]

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How disasters can increase armed conflict risks, but also facilitate diplomacy

Disasters often have severe impacts on human security. But how do disasters impact armed conflict dynamics? When striking armed conflict zones, disasters indeed frequently trigger higher fighting intensity, confirming concerns about a climate-conflict nexus. However, this effect only occurs in a minority of cases, specifically in locations with a high disaster vulnerability. More importantly, disasters can also reduce civil war intensity, for instance by posing logistical challenges to armed groups. While such effects are often short term, they provide important windows of opportunity for relief provision and diplomacy, writes Tobias Ide.

Photo Credit: DFID (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0).

When disasters like droughts, earthquakes, floods, and storms strike vulnerable areas, the consequences can be devastating. This is particularly the case in places with active armed conflicts, as demonstrated by the recent floods in Pakistan and Nigeria, droughts in the Horn of Africa, and the massive earthquake in Syria (and Turkey). In armed conflict zones, several factors increase vulnerability to and complicate recovery from disasters. These include insufficient early warning systems, the battle-related destruction of important infrastructure (e.g., hospitals, power plants), a state incapable of or unwilling to implement prevention measures (e.g., building codes), and unsafe conditions for relief workers. According to some studies, disaster-related deaths are 40% higher in areas with a history of armed conflict.

While discussions such as the above have focused on the effect of armed conflicts on disaster recovery efforts, fewer have sought to ask how disasters impact conflict dynamics. What happens if disasters strike civil war-ridden areas? Does fighting become more intensive? Will the government or rebel forces back down to allow aid delivery? And what does this mean for aid workers and diplomats?

My recently published book titled Catastrophes, Confrontations, and Constraints: How Disasters Shape the Dynamics of Armed Conflicts seeks to address these questions. The book analyses 36 cases of disaster-conflict intersections from 21 countries based on desk-based case studies, expert interviews, and quantitative data. I focussed on countries and areas with an active civil war that were struck by a large-scale disaster to understand how disasters affect conflict risks. Choosing a medium number of cases provided me with the opportunity to combine in-depth qualitative insights with systematic statistical procedures — two approaches that are often kept separate in climate security and disaster conflict research. Below, I briefly detail two main lessons from the book: that the vulnerability of certain contexts to disasters can affect their vulnerability to conflict intensification, and that disasters don’t affect armed conflict dynamics in a unidirectional way, nor in the same ways in different countries.

 

Vulnerability matters for how armed conflict parties respond to disasters.

One of the key findings of the book is that vulnerability matters. This might not come as a big surprise because the cases analysed in the book all experienced major disasters, most of which caused more than 1,000 deaths. By definition, places suffering such disasters are quite vulnerable to the effects of extreme natural events.

However, vulnerability also matters for the behaviour of the armed conflict parties. Only in countries whose economies are highly dependent on agriculture and where poverty rates are very high, and where disaster impacts are hence often very severe, we can detect a disaster-related change in conflict intensity. The 2010 floods in Pakistan, for instance, affected almost 20% of the country’s territory, displaced around 20 million people, and caused a direct economic damage of USD 9.7 billion. The disaster impacts were so severe due to political instability and socio-economic underdevelopment, and posed enormous logistical challenges to both the state military and the insurgent forces. Put differently: Only if such vulnerability factors are present, the societal impacts of disasters are far-reaching enough to affect decision making by government militaries or rebel groups.

 

The impact of disasters on armed conflict dynamics is multifaceted.

Furthermore, the impact of disasters on armed conflict dynamics is multifaceted rather than unidirectional. For example, in around half of the countries I studied, disasters had no relevant impact on the armed conflict at all. For about one-quarter of the countries, fighting activities intensified after the disasters took place. This usually happens when the government troops are adversely affected by the disaster while the rebels remain largely unaffected or can even capitalise on the disaster. After the 1999 earthquake in Colombia, for instance, the government deployed 6,000 state security forces to the affected areas and cut down on social programs to win hearts and minds in contested regions – a situation the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) were happy to exploit. I observed similar dynamics after the 1998 floods in Assam (India), the 1999–2001 drought in Uganda, the 1990 Luzon earthquake in the Philippines, and the 1994 floods in Egypt, among others.

Yet, in another one-quarter of the cases I studied, disasters facilitated a de-escalation of the armed conflict. After the 1997 floods in Somalia, for instance, both competing United Somali Congress (USC) fractions faced problems paying and feeding (and moving around) their troops due to an agricultural collapse in the southern “breadbasket” regions. Rebel groups faced similar problems during COVID-19 lockdowns, for instance in Iraq or Thailand (the book has a separate chapter on the effect of COVID-19 on armed conflicts). Civil wars also de-escalated significantly after other disasters I studied, such as cyclone Sidr in Bangladesh (2007) or the 2005-2006 drought in Burundi.

These results are partially in line with claims that climate change and environmental stress increase armed conflict risks, for instance when disasters trigger more intense fighting during civil wars. However, this impact is not deterministic, but only happens in certain contexts: Most disasters had no impacts on armed conflict intensity. Neither is the disaster-conflict nexus unidirectional: In one out of four cases, the disaster facilitated a de-escalation of fighting. While this effect was often temporal and rarely lasted more than twelve months, it might open up important windows of opportunity to deliver aid and promote diplomacy.

 

Addressing the root causes of vulnerability first and foremost

Based on these insights, what can be done about disasters striking conflict zones? To start with, some of the factors that increase disaster vulnerability are the same that make armed conflict onset and disaster-related conflict intensification more likely: widespread poverty, persistent inequality, or dysfunctional state institutions. Addressing these factors can hence provide benefits on multiple fronts, including for disaster risk reduction, economic development, and security policies.

 

Protecting disaster relief workers

On a more pragmatic level (and in shorter time horizon), the safety of both national and international disaster relief providers is an important concern. In the past ten years, more than 1,200 aid workers have been killed and many more attacked in conflict areas, with a clear upward trend. If disasters weaken one conflict party and the other side cannot exploit it (because it is too weak, suffers from the disaster as well, or needs to restrain to avoid public backlash), conflict intensity is likely to decline. This provides a window of opportunity to negotiate the safe delivery of humanitarian aid and to upscale diplomatic efforts.

By contrast, if the rebels benefit relative to the government, the conflict is likely to escalate after the disaster. In such a situation, anyone involved in the delivery of relief or reconstruction in the respective area needs to be alerted. Negotiated agreements with the rebels and pro-government forces or increased public pressure on conflict parties to allow safe aid delivery are possible courses of action in such a situation.

 

Starting discussions on disaster-conflict intersections

Lastly, an informed discussion about disaster-conflict intersections is of utmost importance, particularly among growing concerns about climate security. Areas affected by both phenomena are most likely to need additional support (by local, national, and international actors), yet are also hardest to navigate for those seeking to provide this support.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

 

Tobias Ide is Senior Lecturer at Murdoch University Perth and Specially Appointed Professor for Peace and Sustainability at Hiroshima University. He has published widely on the impacts of environmental change and security and consulted NATO, the World Bank, and the United Nations, among others.

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Humanitarian Observatories Series | Why it’s crucial for internally displaced persons to participate in the peace process following Ethiopia’s Oromia Conflict

Like the conflict in Tigray, one of the gravest consequences of the conflict in Ethiopia’s Oromia region has been the disastrous level of internal displacement it has given rise to. In this blog, Alemayehu B. Hordofa provides an overview of the situation of Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) in Oromia and shows why ensuring their rights should be at the heart of the peace process in the region. He contends that the peace process in Oromia should give adequate space to the viewpoints of at-risk populations, including IDPs, and that including their concerns in a peace agreement is critical for safeguarding sustainable peace and preventing future conflict-induced displacements.

Photo Source: Personal Collections

The political transition that occurred in Ethiopia in 2018 was hoped to bring peace to this deeply divided country; however, guns failed to be silenced, and Ethiopia continues to be ravaged by several conflicts that have uprooted millions of civilians from their homes. One such conflict is the one being waged in Oromia, the largest of the country’s eleven regions stretching across central, western, and southern Ethiopia.

The conflict has its roots in decades-old clashes between the Ethiopian government and the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF), a nationalist political party established in 1973 to struggle for the right to self-determination of the Oromo people. The party was proclaimed a terrorist organization under the country’s former draconian Anti-terrorism Proclamation, and its leaders lived in exile in Eritrea until their return following the political transition in 2018. After the transition, the Ethiopian parliament lifted the OLF’s terrorist label and subsequently made significant amendments to the previous repressive anti-terrorism law. The new administration also signed the Asmara Agreement with the OLF and released political prisoners.

All these actions seemed to mark the start of a period of peace and stability for people whose livelihoods had been disrupted because of the decades-long conflict. But despite efforts to peacefully end the conflict, it flared up again shortly after the OLF leadership’s return to Ethiopia. This happened as the Oromo Liberation Army (OLA), the military wing of the OLF, accused the Ethiopian government of failing to address major political demands made by the Oromo people. It subsequently refused to lay down arms, severed its relationship with the OLF, and continued its insurgencies, first in western and southern Oromia and then also in its central and northern parts following the military void created by the Tigray conflict.

This led to the short lifespan of the Asmara Agreement, as the government soon reverted to verbal clashes with the OLF and open military confrontation with the OLA. Below, I argue that durable peace can be ensured only by heeding the demands of the millions of IDPs that have not been met by the warring parties in their previous agreement, which has failed to truly resolve anything, and which does not seem to be at the center of the two parties’ ongoing negotiation.

 

How peace was sought—and why it proved ineffective

According to the 2023 Global Report on Internal Displacement, Ethiopia is the country in Africa with the second-highest number of IDPs after the DRC, with some 3.8 million people displaced. Conflict is the main driver of displacement, both at the national level and in the Oromia region. The latest data from OCHA show that over 800,000 people have been displaced in Western Oromia alone due to conflict. The number of people displaced because of conflict in the whole of Oromia is much larger, but displacement data is difficult to access.

The devastating impact of the ongoing conflict in Oromia compelled personalities, both inside and outside the government, to advocate for a peaceful solution of the Oromia conflict in a bid to stop displacement. In December last year, MPs from Oromia called on the Ethiopian Prime Minister to reach a peaceful settlement with the rebels, and opposition parties and independent civil society organizations made the same demands. The conflict in Oromia became such an important human rights and security issue that US Secretary of State Antony Blinken stressed the need to end the “ongoing instability in the Oromia region” in his talks with the Ethiopian prime minister earlier this year.

Despite these internal and external pressures, the need to repair the crippled economy, and the increasing intensity threshold of the conflict, efforts to enter into a peace agreement remain futile. The first round of negotiations, mediated by Kenya and Norway, took place between April 24 and May 2 this year in Zanzibar and ended with no agreement having been reached to cease the hostilities. The two parties subsequently released similar statements describing the ‘unfortunate’ situation, claiming that “it was not possible to reach an agreement on some issues” during the first round of negotiations, and vowing to continue the negotiations to resolve the conflict “permanently and peacefully.”

 

No peace is possible without heeding the demands of IDPs

One of the main reasons for the failure of the Asmara agreement is its top-down orientation and failure to adequately engage the vast number of people who became victims of the impacts of the conflict, including the IDPs.[1] The agreement brought the political leaders of the two warring parties to the negotiation table without heeding the victims’ demands. The current peace process should learn from the failure of its predecessor and take practical measures to address the rights of IDPs, including the right to obtain sustainable solutions in the form of return, resettlement, or local integration; restoration of their damaged properties and livelihoods; and reinstatement of the provisions of social services in displacement or resettlement areas. These measures would break the conflict cycle, realize inclusiveness, ensure local ownership, and address vulnerability that could otherwise led to long-lasting instability and undermine the success of the process.

For example, the conflict between the government forces and OLA in the Horo Guduru Wollega Zone of the Oromia region was intersected with cross-border attacks against civilians by militias and armed vigilante groups from the neighbouring Amhara region, causing the large-scale displacement of civilians and the destruction of civilian properties. Likewise, many IDPs from western Oromia have crossed regional administrative borders to seek protection and assistance in other regions out of the fear of being targeted along ethnic lines. Other IDPs were forced to flee their homes out of fear of human rights violations by the government’s security forces.

The peace process should address the root causes that triggered these cross-border attacks on civilians, ethnic targeting, and human rights violations. It should comprehensively respond to these issues; not integrating the interests and rights of these IDPs in the peace process would detrimentally affect its success and durability.

Indeed, conversations I had with IDPs confirmed the importance of the peace process for the millions of Ethiopians living in or displaced from conflict areas in Oromia. For example, Muluneh (name changed)[2], who used to lead an independent life as a local businessperson and has now become an IDP because of the conflict in Oromia, explained:

“If the peace process is to become a reality, it must provide for some tangible mechanisms to address our [IDPs’] needs and interests. We [IDPs] endure the brunt of conflict in the region, having lost all our belongings and fled to save our lives. Any viable peace process in the region should address the root causes of the problems that made us vulnerable in the first place. We need compensation for our property looted, burned, and destroyed.”

Similar demands were made by other IDPs and human rights organizations to prevent arbitrary displacement, provide protection for IDPs and peacefully end the conflict in Oromia. The Ethiopian Humanitarian Observatory organized its second workshop on the topic of ‘Effective Governance Architecture for Managing Responses to Internal Displacement: The Role of Displacement Affected Communities and Humanitarian Organizations’ in March this year, during which workshop participants confirmed the low level of IDPs’ participation in humanitarian, development, and peace processes and underscored the positive correlation between IDPs’ participation, the effectiveness of humanitarian aid, and the sustainability of peace. Yet, these victims have not been consulted at any stage of the peace process in Oromia, their right to a remedy for their destroyed livelihoods has not been acknowledged, and the restoration of their property rights has not been prioritized.

Thus, it becomes clear that the participation of IDPs in the peace process is a cornerstone in ensuring its sustainability, warranting local ownership, and improving the implementation of its terms. The peace process must involve IDPs at all stages, and any potential peace agreement must include measures to ensure the specific human rights of IDPs and must reflect their interests. It must give a mandate for CSOs’ following up and monitoring of its enforcement.

Lastly, accountability is another cornerstone for lasting peace in the region. Peace becomes durable when it is combined with accountability and reparations. Accountability for causing, contributing to, or failing to address internal displacement should be an integral part of the peace process in Oromia.


[1] The other reasons include a lack of transparency in the negotiation process, as the terms of the agreement remain opaque until today and due to the absence of spaces for CSOs’ engagement in its implementation and monitoring.

[2] I spoke to Muluneh (name changed) in the town of Burayu in the last week of February as part of my efforts to define the focus of the Ethiopian Humanitarian Observatory that forms part of the ISS-hosted ‘Humanitarian Governance: Accountability, Advocacy, Alternatives’ project. Just a few days prior, the president of Oromia at a regional council meeting revealed, for the first time, the government’s intention to make peace with the OLA.


The post is part of the humanitarian observatories series that received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme [Advance grant number 884139].”



Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

 

Alemayehu B. Hordofa is a Ph.D. researcher at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS), Erasmus University Rotterdam (EUR). He obtained his LLM in International Human Rights Law from the Irish Center for Human Rights (ICHR), University of Galway, Ireland. He is currently working on the role of Civil Society Organizations and Crisis-affected People to shape humanitarian governance ‘from below’ in the context of the humanitarian response to IDPs in Ethiopia. His research interests lie in forced displacement, localization of humanitarian aid, transitional justice, and the development of CSOs in Ethiopia.

 

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Women’s Week 2023 | From young girls to “bush wives”: Armed conflicts are traumatising girl soldiers in Africa, and post-conflict peacebuilding and rehabilitation efforts could be making it worse

As armed conflicts persist across the world, children are repeatedly recruited into armed groups as soldiers, robbing them of their childhood. While some estimates reveal that girls comprise almost half of all child soldiers, they feature less prominently in post-conflict peacebuilding and rehabilitation efforts. Esther Beckley in her research explores the disproportionate impacts of war on girl soldiers, exposes the gender blindness of post-conflict peacebuilding efforts, and calls into question the legitimacy of peacebuilding programmes.

I joined the army by force in 2004. I was still a minor and married. I was harassed by the chief and it traumatised me a lot. I have a 7-year-old daughter who was born from this harassment.”

These are the words of Charlene Kahrikalembu, a young woman from Goma in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) who shared her experience with my co-researcher and I[1] about how she was forcefully recruited into the Patriotes Résistants Congolais (PARECO) armed group as a child soldier. Charlene’s narrative echoes that of the thousands of girls who are recruited across the world as fighters, chefs, sex slaves, brides, messengers, spies, and for other reasons in armed conflicts, yet remain unaccounted for during the post-conflict peacebuilding period.

Armed conflicts, wherever they occur, severely affect both people and material resources. Regrettably, the conscription of children, some as young as seven years old, into warring factions is a recurring tendency in armed conflicts, which affects their physical, mental, spiritual, emotional, and material well-being. In most situations, children are recruited to replace adults because they are vulnerable, subservient, and easily controlled.

Nonetheless, when the problem of child soldiers is examined, it is often depicted as a masculine phenomenon, i.e. the enlistment of boys. In researching this topic, I have found that this action is mostly influenced by mainstream perceptions of armed conflict as a phenomenon occurring between males who are ‘naturally’ strong and warrior-like. As Tickner (1992:2) puts it, “International Relations is a man’s world where war and power politics are special positions reserved for men”. This perception is further reinforced in the media with popular images of boys holding rifles, whereas girls are frequently deemed insignificant and rendered invisible within fighting forces. However, studies have shown that in contemporary wars, girls comprise 40% of children associated with fighting factions (Haer 2017).

More so, compared to girls not associated with fighting factions, girl soldiers are disproportionately affected by war. This is due to the lengthy period girl soldiers spend in the captivity of their respective armed groups, making them susceptible to persistent sexual violence, torture, drug use and abuse, and illness (Beckley 2021). For example, in Sierra Leone, the Revolutionary United Front (RUF) led by notorious rebel leader Foday Sankoh used the taboo on women’s nakedness as a weapon of war. This was done by parading naked girls on the frontlines in an attempt to nullify the traditional ‘juju’ (voodoo) used by the Civil Defence Forces (CDF), also known as ‘Kamajors’, who should not see naked women on the frontlines (Oluwaniyi 2019).

From my conversations with female ex-combatants in Goma, eastern DRC, I learnt that girl soldiers were distributed amongst commanders of armed groups to serve as wives, which entailed constant sexual violence and forced pregnancies. This was also the case for the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) led by rebel leader Joseph Kony in northern Uganda, which I studied as part of my Master’s research. In the north-eastern part of Nigeria, girls constitute most of the suicide bombers, performing a strategic role for Boko Haram terrorists (Oluwaniyi 2019).

Despite these prominent roles played by girl soldiers in various armed conflicts, they remain marginalised in peacebuilding efforts. Peacebuilding typically comes as a disappointment to most girl soldiers, since they are faced with an identity crisis of whether they should be considered soldiers or mere sex slaves and wives of commanders. This bolsters their exclusion from peace processes like the United Nations’ Disarmament, Demobilization, and Reintegration (DDR) programmes. DDR is the very first stage of the peacebuilding process, aimed at dissolving warring factions, retrieving weapons from ex-combatants, and providing trauma healing and socio-economic opportunities to ex-soldiers to facilitate their reintegration into civilian life.

Rhetorically, gender issues are pertinent to these tasks, but in reality, this is not always the case. First, the design of DDR programmes in most countries requires ex-soldiers to present a weapon to prove their participation in the conflict before they are eligible for DDR benefits. Now,

how does a girl soldier whose body was used as a weapon of war ‘prove’ that she was a soldier?

In Liberia, for instance, commanders had to testify to a girl soldier’s participation in their armed group before she could benefit from the DDR programme.

Consequently, most girl soldiers do not benefit from the DDR procedure due to its masculinist design. They are forced to self-reintegrate into their communities with no physical, mental, social, or economic support. They return to communities where they previously killed their neighbours and relatives with no form of community reintegration, which is included in the DDR package. Hence, they are stigmatised and labelled as ‘damaged goods’, ‘bush wives’, ‘unmarriageable’, etc. It is much worse for girl mothers who return with children labelled ‘bush babies’ and are rejected by their community members.

All in all, peacebuilding efforts remain gender-blind, and one must consider whether the end goal of so-called peacebuilding ventures like the DDR is long-term peace. This raises critical unanswered questions, such as: What are the underlying knowledge and principles used to address gender issues in peacebuilding? How are the categories of difference constructed? By whom and for what purpose? What are the implications of these on girl soldiers and sustainable peace in general? Such questions need to be urgently addressed in studies aimed at investigating gender imbalances in post-conflict peacebuilding.

 


References

Beckley, E.M and Oluwaniyi O.O (Forthcoming). ‘The Rhetorics of Education for Girl Ex-Combatants in Sierra Leone’s DDR Programme’. Africa Spectrum: SAGE.

Beckley, E.M. 2021, “DDR and the Education of Ex-Combatant Girls in Africa” in The Palgrave Handbook of African Women’s Studies, eds. O. Yacob-Haliso & T. Falola, 1st edn, Springer Nature, Switzerland, pp. 178.

Haer, R. 2017, “The study of child soldiering: issues and consequences for DDR implementation”, Third World Quarterly, vol. 38, no. 2, pp. 450-466.

Oluwaniyi, O. 2019, “Women’s Roles and Positions in African Wars” in The Palgrave Handbook of African Women’s Studies, eds. O. Yacob-Haliso & T. Falola, First edn, Palgrave Macmillan, Cham, Switzerland, pp. 85-105.

Tickner, J.A. 1992, Gender in International Relations: Feminist Perspectives on Achieving Global Security, Columbia University Press, United States of America.

[1] This blog article is based on research I conducted for my Master’s degree five years ago, on further research I am conducting in pursuit of a PhD on gender, conflict, and peacebuilding, as well as that of other researchers in this field.


Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

Esther M. Beckley is a final-year PhD researcher at the University of Malta. She is also a visiting Research Fellow at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS). Her areas of expertise include gender, conflict, child soldiers, postconflict peacebuilding and development, international interventions in conflict contexts, etc., with a regional focus on sub-Saharan Africa.

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Limits to learning: when climate action contributes to social conflict

REDD+, or Reducing Emissions from Deforestation and forest Degradation, has been one of the holy grails of international efforts to combat climate change for the past 10 years: over 10 billion dollars have been pledged to this cause by donor countries. Although REDD+ aims to reduce deforestation rates while increasing the welfare of landowners, research has shown that it also negatively impacts indigenous communities and has contributed to conflict. While hard work has been done to improve REDD+ programs, there are serious unintended effects of this much needed climate change action program. We wondered if organizations will do something about these unintended effects and would like to stimulate debate on that. We found that there are limits to what they learn: some unintended effects are likely to persist.


The REDD+ programmes, developed by the United Nations, use a payment for environmental services (PES) approach to support developing countries in creating more sustainable land use models. The idea behind this is that landowners move away from traditional land use methods that deplete forests and hence exhaust their capacity to absorb CO2. In turn, they receive monetary and other incentives that make up for loss of income and enable them to work towards more sustainable land use.

However, a disturbing number of “unintended consequences” results from these programmes. Such consequences do not necessarily relate to the initial goals of the programme: it can for example achieve great results in forest preservation and poverty alleviation; yet be only accessible to those who officially own the land. Thereby it excludes the poor residents for whom the programme was initially intended. Importantly, because these effects fall outside the scope of the programmes, they are not always taken into consideration when it comes to measuring impact.

In the past years, researchers found such effects on both the forest preservation and social impact fronts. Now, determining that some bear the brunt of well-intended efforts to tackle climate change is one thing. The next question, however, is crucial: will implementers be able to learn from their mistakes? Are the unintended consequences that have been seen in the past years avoidable, and does REDD+ hence have the potential to be for instance truly inclusive and conflict-sensitive?

Will programme implementers learn from their mistakes?

The answer is, as always: it depends. Reasons for not learning from unintended effects are partly technical: for example, the difficulty to measure the actual deforestation rates or the forests that are “saved” as a direct result from the project (the so-called displacement effect). With better measurement techniques, experts expect that these issues can be overcome in the near future.

However, the unintended consequences of REDD+ that are social in nature are a completely different ball game. These include for example the discrimination of indigenous peoples and their ancestral ways of living and working the land; the exclusion of many rural poor because they do not have official land titles; the exclusion of women for the same reason; or the rising of social tensions in communities, or between communities and authorities.

Organizations which implement REDD+, such as the World Bank and the Green Climate Fund, are aware of these unintended consequences and have put measures in place to anticipate and regulate them. These “social and environmental safeguards” should prevent discrimination as a result from the programmes. Moreover, grievance redress and dispute settlement mechanisms are in place to serve justice to those who have been harmed or disadvantaged regardless.

Despite these systems and regulations, World Bank and GCF employees explain that they are struggling with managing these unintended consequences, and that it is difficult to satisfy everyone’s needs while still achieving results on the deforestation front. The dilemma they face is clear: the more time, effort and money is spent to anticipate all possible unintended consequences, the less money and time is left to use for the implement the climate change programming, and time is ticking.

Ideological limits to learning

Donors who fund the programmes appear sometimes more concerned by just increasing disbursement rates, to show they are active in the fight against climate change, than fully taking note and acting on the collateral social damage. With more pressure from civil society, donors and organizations are likely to also take more of the social factors on board, for example through the safeguard system. However, there appears to be one major blind spot, on which little learning is taking place.

To our surprise, the most encountered unintended effects are the so-called motivational crowding out effects. Time and again, it was found that, while people were initially quite concerned about the forest and finding ways to preserve it, their intrinsic motivation to do so declined when monetary rewards were offered. The neo-liberal model of putting a price on everything might work on the short run, but appears to contribute to an erosion of conservation values in the long run. So, taking stock of collateral damage, this might be one of the most unexpected ones we encountered. And unfortunately, it goes against the very ideological basis of the PES approach. Currently, we also found little action by organizations and donors to deal with this unintended effect. An ideological limit to learning appears to be in place here.

Yet, we are still hoping that climate justice can be achieved. That green objectives can be combined with social justice objectives. We invite you to share your abstracts with us for the panel we are organizing at the EADI conference in 2020. The deadline is on December 15. If you would like to read more background information on this topic, you are welcome to consult our working paper.


About the authors:

pasfoto DJ Koch

Dirk-Jan Koch is Professor (special appointment) in International Trade and Development Cooperation at the Radboud University in Nijmegen, and Chief Science Officer of the Netherlands Ministry of Foreign Affairs. His latest publications include Is it time to ‘decolonise’ the fungibility debate? (2019, Third World Quarterly, with Zunera Rana) and Exaggerating unintended effects? Competing narratives on the impact of conflict minerals regulation (2018, Resources Policy, with Sara Kinsbergen).Pasfoto.jpg

 

Marloes Verholt is researcher at the Radboud University Nijmegen. She researches the unintended effects of international climate policy. With a background in conflict analysis and human rights work, she views the climate change debate through these lenses.

Addressing threats to scholars on the ground demands proactive measures from Academic institutions: Notes from fieldwork in Kashmir

Fieldwork is the most critical, and perhaps, the most demanding component of research, especially in difficult and hazardous contexts such as active conflict zones or nations with authoritarian regimes.

I started my fieldwork in June 2021, at a time when India was slowly recovering from a severe second wave of the COVID-19 pandemic that had also affected the disputed region of Kashmir, where I was undertaking my research on the rise of anti-state socio-political movement in relation to the restructuring of land relations in this restive Himalayan valley. Although the entire region had been put under a strict lockdown – restricting public mobility and access to government offices – I steadily began my fieldwork.

I had been cautious in interacting with people and gathering data because of the sensitive nature of my research and the region’s extensive hyper surveillance. Despite being a native of the place, I found it difficult to have people talk to me on record or being interviewed. At the time, there was a massive clampdown on political activists, human rights defenders, journalists, and lawyers who were critical of the state.

Despite my cautious approach, I soon found myself under investigation by state police, who started querying for information about me from my family, friends, and acquaintances. They even visited my home to take my picture and additional information. It was suggested that I put my research on hold and resume it after the situation had calmed down. While the situation was still unravelling, I remained unaware of the extensiveness of the problem of state surveillance and continued traveling to different parts of the valley.

However, it became clear in the first week of September that I was not only facing the possibility of being detained by the state, but that the sensitive data that I had collected was also at risk of being accessed by state agencies, which would not only have violent consequences for me, but would also jeopardize the safety of my interviewees. The situation had escalated after the residences of four of my fellow journalists were raided by the police, and their documents, books, and phones were confiscated. As the state police was widening its crackdown, I was informally being informed from different sources that I was also at risk of police search and questioning.

 

Current pre-fieldwork protocols inadequate to ensure researchers’ safety on the ground

Given that state authorities often confiscate all electronic devices, including phones, computers, and hard drives, and force you to give up all passwords as part of the interrogation process, I discovered few resources for protecting and securing research data in such scenarios. As a researcher, I knew I had very little legal options and protections.

I was also informed that my name had appeared on the list of three dozen researchers, scholars, journalists, and activists that had been put on the ‘no-fly’ list and faced the risk of passport cancellation. As a researcher, I had followed all the required procedures to ensure that the research I was undertaking was done in an ethical, responsible, and safe manner. However, when I became aware of the state machinery creeping in on me, all the existing guidelines and protocols appeared inadequate.

The data and privacy management plans the institutions expect researchers to follow fail to include the possibilities of scholars facing detention or confiscation of their research material, especially when researchers can be detained without trials even on the flimsiest pretext of holding contact details of an interviewee or a document deemed ‘anti-state.’

It appears that the pre-fieldwork safety evaluation does not reflect the possibility of incarceration, material seizure, or travel prohibitions. These assessments, it appears, only look at the level of threat, nature of possible hazards, and ethical issues. There is no training to prepare or inform scholars what to expect from the institutions in situations where they are detained or restricted from traveling..

 

Prioritising researchers’ safety is possible with bold and proactive measures by academic institutions

Conducting research has become increasingly difficult for many scholars in growingly illiberal and authoritarian countries like India, where scholars are actively targeted.  Recently, an anthropologist at University of Sussex, Filippo Osella, was denied entry and deported from the country. Many others have been jailed and remain incarcerated for years. Many scholars, especially from Kashmir, who study in universities across the globe have faced intimidations and raids from state agencies, with many unable to return to even visit families, let alone conduct any research. The government is actively censoring all forms of research to erase the facts, and their documentation, on the ground.

As scholars, these are critical challenges to address, given that governments are increasingly targeting researchers, thereby making it harder to undertake any kind of study, especially those deemed critical of the state.

One conceivable agreement that universities and critical research institutes like the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS) can establish is to set up mechanisms with governments, through their embassies or other state organisations, that make them the guarantor of academicians’ and researchers’ safety, especially for those undertaking research in places like Kashmir. Universities must make governments pledge their support for establishing such mechanisms through legally binding bonds or MOUs.

If such requests to ensure safety of scholars are not met, institutes must discontinue undertaking any research in countries that refuse to ensure the safety of scholars and academics. This will guarantee that the government doesn’t only say it’ll provide a safe atmosphere for researchers to undertake research, but also holds them accountable if something goes wrong. This idea will be key for securing protection of scholars and academics, who otherwise lack any immunity from the state onslaught.

COVID-19 and Conflict | Between myth and mistrust: the role of interlocutors in managing COVID-19 in Haiti

Mistrust in state-provided information about COVID-19 has characterized citizen responses to the pandemic in Haiti, preventing the effective management of the virus. This article shows that this mistrust is rooted in a number of historical, political, and social factors, including the perceived mismanagement of past crises. In the wake of resistance to pandemic measures and failure to adhere to regulations, local organizations can play an important role in contexts with low institutional trustworthiness.

To date, Haiti has managed to register a relatively low number of COVID-19 infections and related deaths. Initial concerns regarding the potential devastation COVID-19 could cause in Haiti were related to insufficient sanitary standards and medical facilities necessary to prevent the spread of the virus and ensure the proper treatment of infected patients. However, it turned out that the misunderstanding of COVID-19-related information was another major challenge that prevented people from taking preventative measures and going to hospital when infected.

Some studies conducted during the cholera outbreak in 2010 have pointed out that extreme poverty and low levels of education can cause mistrust in information on health instructions (Cénat, 2020). Nevertheless, these narrow explanations disregard the historical and socio-political background that has nurtured the mistrust of the population in public institutions that is also visible in responses to the COVID-19 pandemic. Local organizations have played a central role in addressing the Haitian community’s disbeliefs around COVID-19, stepping in as interlocutors in the fight against the spread of the virus.

Over the past few years, discontent with the performance of the state has led to extensive protests. On many occasions, people have called for the resignation of the president and the dissolution of the government, denouncing its inability to manage past crises, claiming a lack of accountability, and citing worsening inequality. Furthermore, the community’s anger has been extended to international institutions, particularly the Core Group[i], the Organization of American States (OAS), and the United Nations Integrated Office in Haiti (BINUH). They are blamed for intervening in Haiti’s internal politics and supporting the current regime, thus keeping the president from resigning (AFP, 2019).

Such anger at, and mistrust in, people in power has been constructed historically. The importation of cholera to Haiti by a UN agent in 2010 as well as successive governments’ mismanagement of the consequent outbreak, the lack of accountability for and the dissatisfaction with the 2010 earthquake responses, the exposure of PetroCaribe fund-related corruption, and the widely reported sexual abuse scandal are just some of the cases that have led to widespread mistrust of those in power.

Damage already done?

When the first COVID-19 infection was confirmed, the government immediately declared a health emergency, imposing restrictive measures and undertaking information campaigns to raise awareness of the pandemic and the necessary sanitary measures to be taken through broadcasts on television, radio, and social media, or by means of vehicles circulating in suburbs with speakers mounted on their roofs[ii]. Despite these efforts, due to the general mistrust and lack of legitimacy of the current government, not only protests against ‘lockdown’ measures and the refusal to adhere to them, but also disbelief surrounding the disease led to the spread of rumours and misinformation (See also Dorcela and St. Jean, 2020). “People think of COVID-19 as a political matter”, said a head of a local youth group.

Hearsay varied from the government having invented the virus to receive money from international aid agencies or diverting attention from the internal political issues[iii] to the hospitals testing a new vaccine on the Haitian population. The disbeliefs were such that people ended up claiming that those showing the same symptoms of COVID-19 were not infected by the virus, but with a different disease that they called ‘Ti lafyèv’ (‘small fever’)[iv], which was assumed to be easily treatable with ‘te anmè’ (bitter tea), therefore ensuring that hospital visits (and testing) were ‘not necessary’.

Given the misinformation, on the one hand people have not taken the virus seriously and therefore failed to follow preventative measures, while on the other hand panic was created and people stigmatized, which prevented them from going to the doctor and accelerated the spread of the virus. Additionally, some acts of sabotage of medical services were reported.

Countering disbelief, panic, and stigma, some local leaders and organizations took important initiatives to disseminate correct information and to help the communities cope with the government measures. For example, Doctors Without Borders and Gheskio, a leading Haitian healthcare institution, trained volunteers as field officers to spread information about the virus by visiting people (what it is, how to protect oneself, which hospitals to go to, etc.). In this regard, Dr. Pape, a founder of Gheskio, argued that “poor people are not stupid. [They] want to make sure that what you’re telling them is real.”[v]

Other civil society organizations (CSOs) also took various initiatives to communicate with people. While some initiatives used campaign music or held quiz contests with questions about COVID-19, allowing participants to learn about the virus while having fun, others visited street vendors and residents, going door to door with information leaflets to clear up the misunderstanding, to remind people that the virus is still present, and to ask them to wear face masks and wash their hands even if others do not follow the measures. Also, the CSO Ekoloji pou Ayiti established hand-washing stations in Furcy and its members stood at the stations to explain to the users which precautions and preventative measures to take, as well as how to make homemade sanitizer.

Thus, in places where the legitimacy and credibility of the government is disputed, such as Haiti, interlocutors such as CSOs and other local organizations can significantly contribute to effective crisis management. The above examples once again highlight the vital role of local actors in articulating and ‘narrowing down’ key messages and practices among the population that are central in managing the spread and effects of the virus.


References

AFP (2019) “Haïti: l’opposition manifeste contre « l’ingérence internationale » (Haiti: the opposition manifestes against the « international interference »”. Available at: https://5minutes.rtl.lu/actu/monde/a/1413480.html (Accessed: 14 December 2020).

Cénat, J. M. (2020) “The Vulnerability of Low-and Middle-Income Countries Facing the COVID-19 Pandemic: The Case of Haiti”, in Travel Medicine and Infectious Disease 37 (101684). Doi: 10.1016/j.tmaid.2020.101684

Dorcela, S. and St. Jean, M. (2020) “Covid-19: Haiti is Vulnerable, but the International Community Can Help”. Available at: https://www.the-hospitalist.org/hospitalist/article/224836/coronavirus-updates/covid-19-haiti-vulnerable-international-community-can (Accessed: 19 July 2020).


Footnotes

[i] Refers to a diplomatic group composed of the UN Secretary-General’s Special Representative, the ambassadors of Brazil, Canada, the EU, France, Germany, Spain, the US, and the OAS.

[ii] Telephonic conversation with a physician in Port-au-Prince on 4 July 2020 and with a health professional in Les Cayes on 20 July 2020.

[iii] Telephonic conversation with a physician in Port-au-Prince on 4 July 2020.

[iv] Telephonic conversation with a health professional in Les Cayes on 20 July 2020.

[v] See Feliciano, I. and Kargbo, C. (2020) “As COVID cases surge, Haiti’s Dr. Pape is on the frontline again”.[/vc_column_text][vc_separator color=”custom” accent_color=”#a80000″ css=”.vc_custom_1594895181078{margin-top: -15px !important;margin-bottom: 10px !important;}”][vc_column_text]This article is an outcome of research conducted by the authors between June and August 2020 as part of the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS) of Erasmus University Rotterdam’s ‘When Disaster Meets Conflict’ project. The research aimed to analyze the tensions between top-down measures implemented to face the COVID-19 emergency and the bottom-up responses and mechanisms seen among local leaders and institutions in Haiti. Methodologically, it was conducted by doing a secondary sources review and remote interviews with a number of Haitian health professionals.

 

About the authors:

Angela Sabogal is a sociologist who graduated from Pontificia Universidad Javeriana in Bogotá, Colombia. She is currently finishing an MA degree in Development Studies at the International Institute of Social Studies ISS of Erasmus University Rotterdam. She has six years of working experience in social project management in Colombia and Haiti.

Yuki Fujita is MA degree student in Development Studies at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS) of Erasmus University Rotterdam. Her major at the ISS is the Social Policy for Development. Before coming to the ISS, she worked in the diplomatic corps in Haiti for two years from 2017 to 2019.

 

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COVID-19 | Ecuador, COVID-19 and the IMF: how austerity exacerbated the crisis by Ana Lucía Badillo Salgado and Andrew M. Fischer

By Posted on 10962 views

Ecuador is currently (as of 8 April) the South American country worst affected by COVID-19 in terms of the number of confirmed cases and fatalities per capita. While even the universal health systems of Northern European countries are becoming severely frayed by the nature of this pandemic, Ecuador serves as a powerful example of how much worse the situation is for many low- and middle-income countries, particularly those whose public health systems have already been undermined by financial assistance programmes with international financial institutions (IFIs). The IMF and other IFIs such as the World Bank must acknowledge the role they have played and continue to play in undermining public health systems in ways that exacerbate the effects of the pandemic in many developing countries.


The recent IMF Extended Fund Facility (EFF) Arrangement, signed in March 2019 with the Government of Ecuador, was already the subject of massive protests in October 2019 given the austerity and ‘structural reforms’ imposed on the country (aka structural adjustment). It has also directly contributed to the severity of the pandemic in this country given that health and social security systems were among the first casualties of the austerity and reforms. In particular, the government’s COVID-19 response has been severely hindered by dramatic reductions of public health investment and by large layoffs of public health workers preceding the outbreak of the virus.

From this perspective, even though the IMF has recently moved to offer finance and debt relief to developing countries hit by the COVID-19 pandemic, a much more serious change of course is needed. For this, it is vital to understand its own role ­– and that of other IFIs such as the World Bank – in undermining health systems before the emergence of the pandemic in various developing countries, lest similar policy recipes are again repeated.

The baseline

It is clear that the pre-existing national healthcare system in Ecuador has been replete with problems even in ‘normal’ times. As in most of Latin America, the weaknesses of the healthcare system in Ecuador stem from its segmented and stratified character, with a distinct segregation between three main subsectors – the public, social security, and private sectors. The Ecuadorian Ministry of Health has a weak coordinating and regulatory role over these three subsectors, each of which caters to different beneficiary populations and with clearly distinct quality of services. The public system is the lowest quality and the one accessed by most poor people. Despite claims of universal health, the national system is a far cry from anything approaching genuine universalism.

Moreover, there has been a progressive privatization and commodification of healthcare since 2008. For instance, the building of capacity within the social security system has been undermined by the channelling of health funding via contracts to the private sector, where pricing is also mostly unregulated [1]. More generally, Ecuador has consistently exhibited one the highest out-of-pocket (OOP) health expenditure shares in South America, despite a government discourse and constitutional mandate to deliver free, high quality, public healthcare for all citizens. OOP payments – or direct payments by users at the point of service – reached 41.4% per total health spending in 2016 [2]. They include, for instance, payments for medicine or medical supplies by poor people in public hospitals, as well as payments by middle- and upper-class people for consultations and surgeries. The COVID-19 crisis puts pressure on precisely these aspects of healthcare provisioning, rendering the system prone to systemic failure for the majority of the population, especially in times of economic crisis when the ability of users to pay is severely curtailed.

Crisis and IFIs

These problems in the healthcare system have been exacerbated by the austerity measures of the current government of Lenín Moreno. The measures were introduced in the context of the protracted economic crisis that started in 2014 and have been endorsed by the IMF and other IFIs. Public health expenditure plateaued at 2.7% of GDP in 2017 and 2018, and then fell slightly to 2.6% in 2019, when GDP also slightly contracted (see figure). This was despite the constitutional goal that established an increase of at least 0.5% of GDP per year until 4% was to be reached, which is still far below the 6% of GDP recommended by the Pan American Health Organization [3].

pic

Source: elaborated from the Fiscal Policy Observatory data (last accessed 7 April 2020 at https://www.observatoriofiscal.org/publicaciones/transparencia-fiscal/file/221-transparencia-fiscal-no-163-marzo-2020.html)
* The main component of this expenditure is on non-contributory social protection (social cash transfers).
** It excludes health expenditure of the social security system.

However, the collapse in public investment in the health sector has been far more dramatic, falling by 64% from 2017 to 2019, or from USD 306 million in 2017 to USD 110 million in 2019 [4]. Such reductions would have been largely borne by the public health system and constitute expenditures that are vital for a COVID-19 response, such as the construction of hospitals and the purchase of medical equipment.

It was in this context that the IMF Extended Fund Facility (EFF) was agreed and signed in March 2019. Within the framework of this programme, the government implemented a large layoff of public healthcare workers (including doctors, nurses, auxiliary nurses, stretcher-bearers, social workers, and other healthcare workers). The layoffs continued throughout 2019, despite protests by the National Syndicate of Healthcare Workers of the Ministry of Health [5], [6], [7]. It is difficult to know the exact number of layoffs because of the fragmented functioning of the health system, although within the Ministry of Public Health alone, 3,680 public health workers were laid off in 2019, representing 4.5% of total employment in this Ministry and 29% of total central government layoffs in that year [calculated from 8]. Similar reductions in the social security sector were announced in 2019 for 2020, although we have not yet been able to find any data on these reductions.

Thus, it is not a surprise that Ecuador is currently doing so poorly in handling the COVID 19 crisis. The retrenchment of the public health system together with an already weak and retrenched social protection system coupled for the perfect storm. But even more worrying is that, in the face of the pandemic, the government paid 324 million USD on the capital and interest of its sovereign ‘2020 bonds’ on 24 March instead of prioritizing the management of the health crisis. This decision was taken despite a petition on 22 March by the Ecuadorean assembly to suspend such payments, along with a chorus of civil society organizations lobbying for the same [9] [10]. The government nonetheless justified the payment as a trigger for further loans from the IMF, World Bank, Inter-American Development Bank, and Andean Financial Corporation [11]. This is especially problematic given that Ecuador has been hard hit by the collapse of oil prices and, as a dollarized economy, its only control over money supply and hence hope for economic stimulus rests on preventing monetary outflows from the economy (and encouraging inflows).

The payment is also paradoxical given that the IMF and the World Bank are currently calling for the prioritization of health expenditure and social protection and for a standstill of debt service, and have announced initiatives for debt relief and emergency financing [12] [13]. Nonetheless, despite such noble rhetoric, it appears that the precondition for such measures continues to be the protection of private creditors over urgent health financing needs.

Atoning for past and present sins on the path to universalism

The COVID-19 pandemic undoubtedly exposes the inadequacies of existing social policy systems in developing countries and the urgent need of moving towards more genuinely universalistic systems. Ecuador is exemplary given that it has until recently been celebrated as a New Left social model even while its national health system has remained deeply segregated and increasingly commodified.

However, while the IMF and other IFIs have emphasised the importance of placing health expenditures in developing countries at the top of the priority list in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic [12], they have not acknowledged their own continuing roles in undermining these priorities. Indeed, their messaging is often contradictory, given that both the IMF and the World Bank have also repeatedly insisted that developing countries must persist with ‘structural reforms’ during and after the pandemic [13] [14]. In other words, there is no evidence that the course has been reset. As one way to induce a reset, it is important that they acknowledge the roles they have played and continue to play in undermining public health systems and universalistic social policy more generally, lest they continue to repeat them despite the switch to more noble rhetoric.


Sources:
[1] http://cdes.org.ec/web/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/privatizaci%C3%B3n-salud.pdf
[2] https://www.thelancet.com/journals/lancet/article/PIIS0140-6736(19)30841-4/fulltext
[3] https://www.cepal.org/es/publicaciones/45337-america-latina-caribe-la-pandemia-covid-19-efectos-economicos-sociales
[4] https://coyunturaisip.wordpress.com/2020/03/28/los-recortes-cobran-factura-al-ecuador-la-inversion-en-salud-se-redujo-un-36-en-2019/
[5] https://www.eluniverso.com/noticias/2019/03/06/nota/7219694/trabajadores-publicos-salud-denuncian-despidos-masivos
[6] https://www.elcomercio.com/actualidad/recorte-personal-contratos-ocasionales-ecuador.html
[7] https://www.elcomercio.com/actualidad/despidos-trabajadores-ministerio-salud-evaluacion.html
[8] https://www.observatoriofiscal.org/publicaciones/estudios-y-an%C3%A1lisis/file/220-n%C3%BAmero-de-servidores-p%C3%BAblicos-del-presupuesto-2018-2019.html
[9] https://www.elcomercio.com/actualidad/asamblea-suspender-pago-deuda-coronavirus.html
[10] https://ww2.elmercurio.com.ec/2020/03/24/la-conaie-pide-al-gobierno-suspender-el-pago-de-la-deuda-externa/
[11] https://www.bourse.lu/issuer/Ecuador/34619 (first link under the notices section)
[12] https://www.imf.org/en/News/Articles/2020/04/03/vs-some-say-there-is-a-trade-off-save-lives-or-save-jobs-this-is-a-false-dilemma
[13] https://www.worldbank.org/en/news/speech/2020/03/04/joint-press-conference-on-covid-19-by-imf-managing-director-and-world-bank-group-president
[14] https://www.worldbank.org/en/news/speech/2020/03/23/remarks-by-world-bank-group-president-david-malpass-on-g20-finance-ministers-conference-call-on-covid-19

This article is part of a series about the coronavirus crisis. Read all articles of this series here.


About the authors:

Ana LucíaAna Lucía Badillo Salgado is a PhD researcher at the ISS focusing on the political economy of social protection reforms in Ecuador and Paraguay, in particular the role of external actors in influencing social policymaking. She is also a Lecturer at Leiden University College. mug shot 2

Andrew M. Fischer is Associate Professor of Social Policy and Development Studies at the ISS and the Scientific Director of CERES, The Dutch Research School for International Development. His latest book, Poverty as Ideology (Zed, 2018), was awarded the International Studies in Poverty Prize by the Comparative Research Programme on Poverty (CROP) and Zed Books and, as part of the award, is now fully open access (http://bora.uib.no/handle/1956/20614). Since 2015, he has been leading a European Research Council Starting Grant on the political economy of externally financing social policy in developing countries. He has been known to tweet @AndrewM_Fischer

COVID-19 | Rethinking how to respond to COVID-19 in places where humanitarian crises intersect by Rodrigo Mena

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It is widely known that COVID-19 will disproportionately affect developing countries and impoverished peoples. Many of these countries are already affected by conflict and disasters including humanitarian crises, making the contexts even more fragile and complex and the threat of COVID-19 even more serious. Some approaches to fighting the coronavirus pandemic might not be feasible in these contexts where multiple crises intersect, argues Rodrigo Mena. The responses implemented in many countries are not sufficient to minimize impacts that include the potential loss of thousands of lives in vulnerable contexts; prevention and context-specific solutions that also address the root causes of humanitarian crises are needed now more than ever.


While many are waiting for the crisis to pass, we need to remember that hazards such as conflicts, earthquakes, or droughts do not take holidays during pandemic times. When they set in, governments will have to decide where to allocate the limited funds they have. Whereas many countries already have to make hard choices, hovering between strategies to prevent an economic recession and the prevention of the spread of the virus, countries with several pre-existing and ongoing crises, particularly those dependent on humanitarian aid, have even harder choices to make. When a disaster occurs together with COVID-19, will efforts be directed toward rebuilding the country or stopping the spread of the virus? And how will these countries deal with ongoing issues such as underdevelopment in general?

After four years researching disaster responses and humanitarian aid in conflict-affected places, I summarise here some considerations to take into account on why the general approach to COVID-19 might not be viable in many situations. Most recommendations can make things worse in traditional humanitarian crisis scenarios or places where the poorest and most vulnerable live. The places I studied faced disasters, conflict, and were generally underdeveloped, making them particularly vulnerable to any shock, including pandemics such as the COVID-19, and rendering governments incapable of responding effectively.

Refugee Camp, Bangladesh - COVID19

Refugee Camp in Bangladesh. Photo: Rod Mena

Additional issues are multiple. Here are a few:

  1. Lack of access to water. With about 780 million people in the world without access to clean water (780 million!) and in places facing conflict, ‘access to safe water is often compromised; infrastructure is damaged or goes into decline, pipelines are in disrepair, and water collection is dangerous’, as presented by UNICEF. The advice to wash your hands regularly or use disinfectant might certainly not be feasible for many. In fact, aid actors are already struggling to deliver water in many places and an extra demand for it can exacerbate or be the source of new conflicts.
  2. Lack of space. As many have indicated, COVID-19 will disproportionately affect the most vulnerable in the world, including those depending on humanitarian aid to survive. Social distancing might be impossible for the close to 30% of the world urban population living in slums, or for the close to 7 million living in refugee camps. And with more than 6% of the world’s employed population in the informal economy, the option to stay at home or quarantine looks unfeasible for many, let alone for those whose homes have been destroyed or left behind when they had to move because of disasters and conflict.
  3. Greater humanitarian need. In addition, less-developed countries and populations not being aided at the moment might also start needing support. For example, despite multiple difficulties in many refugee camps and crisis-affected areas, there is a system in place to support people in need, but people living out of those spaces might struggle as much or more with this pandemic. The humanitarian aid sector, thus, will face a greater number of people depending on external aid. How and whether the aid sector should assist people affected directly or indirectly by the coronavirus is still an open debate, not only in terms of the real capacities to do it beyond the funding, but also in terms of capacities to do it adequately and safely[1].
  4. Challenges to apply response strategies. A number of challenges can also impede the World Health Organization’s Test, Treat, Track strategy in places under high levels of conflict or facing humanitarian crises[2]:

Testing. If there is zero or reduced access to testing kits (and laboratories or medical personnel to run the tests), accurate figures on the number of deaths or infected people are obscured, making it difficult to plan how to provide relief.

Treating. When it comes to treating the most severely affected by COVID-19, the main procedure is connecting them to ventilators. A global shortage of ventilators is already apparent, and in least-developed countries, we need to add reduced access to reliable sources of electricity. In fact, close 20% of the world populations do not have access to electricity, and in low-income countries that can reach up to 60% —and yes, this includes hospitals that only have electricity via petrol or diesel generators.

Tracking. Then, when it comes to tracking the virus, we know that in places affected by conflict and disasters, many people are displaced or constantly on the move (there are 70.8 million displaced people worldwide, ranging from internally displaced persons to refugees and asylum seekers). Also, the demographics or databases of these places are not always reliable. This makes tracking very cumbersome or even impossible.

  1. Finally, the option to close borders or declare lockdowns might be detrimental in places affected by war or conflict, where many flee to safety or do not have access to goods and services to support their lives.

Vulnerability is created

These are far from all the concerns, but they are enough to show what is well known in disaster studies: that disasters are not natural but socially constructed, including the COVID-19 crisis, as a blog post from Ilan Kelman clearly shows. The pandemic that we have is much more the consequence of social and politically wrong decisions and lack of preparedness than the spreading rate or lethality of the virus. Particularly, a lack of preparedness or decision not to act based on the knowledge that we had (because multiple official reports indicated the probabilities of a pandemic like this and how to prevent it or mitigate its impacts), has greatly contributed to the severity of the crisis[3].

If we do not start thinking about how to prepare to COVID-19 in less-developed places with context-specific solutions, we will be repeating the story; we will keep choosing not to be prepared, which will keep on resulting in catastrophic impacts. If there is something that we have learnt from disasters in the past, it is that prevention is almost always better than responding. Not doing so, or expecting that measures as these reviewed above will work in the most vulnerable places, is to turn a blind eye and hope for the best.


[1] But now with a global economic recession and an aid system already with a 40% shortfall on the funds needed to assist everyone in need, as presented in the 2019 ‘Global Humanitarian Assistance Report’.
[2] And in many cases not even feasible in western countries like France or the United States.
[3] For instance, the ‘National Risk Profile 2016’ of the Netherlands indicated that ‘due to the possible destabilising impact, the main focus of the NRP [National Risk Profile] is on the risks of a large-scale outbreak of an infectious disease, such as a flu pandemic’. Similarly, in 2006, the United States developed the National Strategy for Pandemic Influenza based on the risk of this event to occur (with the following update in 2017). Also, astonishingly, a report on global preparedness for health emergencies dated September 2019, issued by the Global Preparedness Monitoring Board, co-convened by World Health Organization and the World Bank, that ‘explores and identifies the most urgent needs and actions required to accelerate preparedness for health emergencies, focusing in particular on biological risks manifesting as epidemics and pandemics’, concludes that a global pandemic ‘would be catastrophic, creating widespread havoc, instability and insecurity. The world is not prepared’.

This article is part of a series about the coronavirus crisis. Read all articles of this series here.


R. Mena (2019)About the author:

Rodrigo (Rod) Mena is a socio-environmental researcher and AiO-PhD at the International Institute of Social Studies of the Erasmus University Rotterdam. His current research project focuses on disaster response and humanitarian aid governance in complex and high-intensity conflict-affected scenarios, with South Sudan, Afghanistan and Yemen as main cases. He has experience conducting fieldwork and researching in conflict and disaster zones from in Africa, Latin America, Europe, Oceania and Asia.


Image Credits: Rod Mena

“Whose responsibility is it anyway”? Questioning the role of UN peacekeeping mission MONUSCO in stabilizing the eastern DRC by Delphin Ntanyoma

In the highly volatile eastern DRC, where over the past decades violent conflict and political instability have claimed the lives of thousands of civilians, UN peacekeeping mission MONUSCO has intervened to help security services including the national army and the police regain control of the region. After twenty years of intervention, MONUSCO is blamed for what should be the DRC government’s responsibility—the failure to de-escalate the situation and find long-term solutions that will bring peace. What role can and should it play in eastern DRC, then? As Delphin Ntanyoma explains, the power and responsibility to enact real and long-lasting change lies with the DRC government.


Thousands of civilians have been killed in Beni[1] in the eastern DRC since 2014, when a jihadist-oriented group known as the Allied Democratic Forces (ADF) first occupied the region. Recent statistics indicate that between early November 2019 and mid-February 2020, approximately 350 civilians have been brutally killed in Beni by ADF militants[2]. Countless attacks have been carried out by ADF in different villages, where local populations have been slaughtered with guns and machetes. Since 2014, military operations have been executed in an attempt to halt these attacks, but it is not known when the situation will stabilise.

Despite ‘assurances’ from the Congolese government, the national army and UN peacekeeping mission MONUSCO, doubts remain about how the ongoing tragedy created by the ADF will be addressed. A few weeks ago, local populations across DRC and in Beni in particular demonstrated against the killing of civilians, desperately marching across cities with the hope that their plea to end the ongoing conflict and violence against civilians would be heard. More specifically, demonstrators protested against MONUSCO’s inability to protect civilians, as Chapter VII of the UN Charter compels it to do. Whilst avoiding pointing a finger directly at the national army, demonstrators have largely blamed MONUSCO for its failure to protect civilians.

Amid these tensions, the UN Under-Secretary General for Peace Operations Jean Pierre Lacroix visited the DRC between 30 November and 2 December last year to assess the situation. During his visit to Beni, Goma and Kinshasa to show support for the UN peacekeeping mission and discuss the situation with officials, Lacroix claimed that demonstrations against MONUSCO were likely manipulated and funded from ‘somewhere’[3]. This statement is hardly verifiable, but an independent observer would unlikely rule out this possibility due to ongoing debates on the UN’s role in creating stability in eastern DRC; some Congolese political figures have openly called for the UN to end its peacekeeping mission or to provide a plan for its gradual withdrawal.

The question thus arises from this debate: why is MONUSCO in a ‘hot seat’ for something that is essentially the responsibility of the state? Why is MONUSCO being held responsible by Congolese civilians for the killings taking place in Beni instead of the army and police, who are particularly responsible for preventing this? Therefore, the essentiality of MONUSCO’s presence in the region should be better examined: is the UN peacekeeping mission technically constrained in executing its mandate to protect civilians, or are there other reasons for its perceived inaction? And at what point will the mission be considered successful and finally withdraw from the DRC?

Besides some challenges related to its internal functioning (heavy bureaucracies, unlikely familiar with complexities and diversities of local contexts, culturally limited for some military forces, missions operating in the mostly inaccessible eastern Congo), MONUSCO has been only slightly involved during the preparation of military operations in Beni. Hence, its success seems to be challenged by institutions such as the security sector that are unwilling to tackle structural challenges. Meanwhile, MONUSCO is obliged to work with them while having limited power to influence their decisions.

In Beni, for instance, MONUSCO has expressed concerns over the national army launching unilateral military operations without sufficiently engaging the UN peacekeeping. The reasons for the army’s decision to operate unilaterally remain unclear. Under the name of sovereignty or the national army’s unwillingness to co-operate, military operations against ADF were carried out with limited support of the UN peacekeeping mission. Hence, these military operations were largely ineffective due to lacking strong coordination among main stakeholders. Moreover, grounded reports indicate that some military commanders have directly or remotely been supporting local armed groups and foreign militias[4]. In addition, one of the main sources of misery in Congo is the level of embezzlement and corruption within the public arena (including the army and police), which in turn affects the delivery of public services and goods. Consequently, state’s authority is largely absent in remote regions of the eastern Congo, creating a security vacuum exploited by armed groups to perpetuate violence.

These are some of the challenges linked to the extended conflict that MONUSCO cannot address. These and other internal and external challenges facing MONUSCO call for the redefinition of its mandate in relation to local contexts. Failing to do so, it may spend another decade trying, but failing to contribute to long-lasting peace and a corresponding shift of attention toward the development in the region.


[1] From Ituri to Maniema via North-Kivu and South-Kivu provinces, extreme violence has re-emerged. Although similar contexts characterize Djugu (Ituri), Masisi-Rutshuru (North-Kivu), Minembwe-Itombwe (South-Kivu) and Kabambale (Maniema), the blog post takes Beni’s tragedy as an illustration.

[2] See for instance one of the Radio Télévision Belge Francophone : https://www.rtbf.be/info/monde/detail_rdc-huit-morts-et-plusieurs-disparu-apres-un-nouveau-massacre-a-beni?id=10427684

[3] For details on Jean Pierre Lacroix’s declarations, see: https://monusco.unmissions.org/en/jean-pierre-lacroix-everyone-should-learn-lessons-what-has-happened; and Kivu Security Tracker: https://blog.kivusecurity.org/fr/. Jean-Pierre Lacroix points a finger to those undermining MONUSCO efforts to support local population.

[4] Norwegian Institute of International Affairs (2019) “Assessing the Effectiveness of the United Nations Mission in the DRC – MONUSCO” https://www.ssrc.org/publications/view/assessing-the-effectiveness-of-the-united-nations-mission-in-the-drc-monusco/


About the author:

Delphin

Delphin Ntanyoma is a PhD candidate at the ISS. His research falls within Conflict Economics and is part of the Economics of Development & Emerging Markets (EDEM) Program. With a background of Economics and Masters’ of Art in Economics of Development from ISS, the researcher runs an online blog that shares personal views on socio-economic and political landscape of the Democratic Republic of Congo but also that of the African Great Lakes Region. The Eastern Congo Tribune Blog can be found on the following link: www.easterncongotribune.com.

 


Image Credit: MONUSCO Photos on Flickr.

 

 

Complexity of Micro-level Violent Conflict: An ‘Urban Bias’ lenses of a Native Researcher? by Delphin Ntanyoma

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Micro-level violent conflict is complex, and the triggers of violence are unpredictable. Building on long-seated unresolved grievances coupled with the presence of foreign armed groups in Eastern Congo, the South-Kivu province is facing a barely noticed humanitarian crisis whose understanding can even puzzle a native researcher. In such a context, can a ‘native researcher’ with lenses affected with ‘urban bias’ understand complex contours of micro-level violent conflict? 


This blog post tries to raise awareness on complexity of micro-level layers of recurring violent conflict. It builds on Kalyvas’s (2006) understanding of ‘urban bias’[1].  He states that urban bias refers to lack of information on countryside violence but also the tendency to paint gunmen involved in violence as primitive and criminals. Though Kalyvas stresses on reporting and accounting on civil-war violence, this blog post considers that ‘urban bias’ is widely embedded in understanding the local context while little attention is paid to those painted as ‘criminals’.

In March 2019, I visited Minembwe in the South-Kivu province, the Eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). It was amid tense violent confrontation between opposing local armed groups largely affiliated to ethnic communities in the region. The MaiMai groups are affiliated to Babembe, Banyindu and Bafuliro communities against Gumino, while Twirwaneho are linked to Banyamulenge community. However, local armed groups are currently being supported by foreign groups from Rwanda and Burundi, the two DRC’s neighboring countries. The reasons for my visit to this region were twofold. One, I had to use this opportunity to teach two courses at undergraduate level within Eben-Ezer University of Minembwe. Two, this is a region I had to visit as part of my fieldwork. Although I am a native of this region, however, this time, I came back as a researcher in conflict economics studies.

The background of Eastern Congo violent conflict is complex with different layers. The region I visited has been under regular clashes between communities – due to mutual contestation, confrontation around ‘autochthony’ versus ‘immigrants’, misunderstanding between farmers and cattle herders as well as other dynamic motives. Community clashes have been going on for decades. Recently, Burundian and Rwandan rebels have been involved in clashes that are supported by local groups. Burundian and Rwandan groups are respectively supported by Kigali and Bujumbura with aims of overthrowing regimes in their countries. They are meddling into local problems with an intent of creating an unoccupied space for further military plans.

Subsequent to recent clashes, roughly 150 villages (including my parents’ village) were burnt down between 2018-2019. It has led to approximately 200,000 internally displaced people. Most of these have been concentrated in Minembwe facing high risks of hunger and diseases. Hundreds are estimated to have died during this period. Existing schools and health facilities have been destroyed. Moreover, due to limited access to transport infrastructures and media, the tragedy happening in this region remains unnoticed to a large extent.

Despite efforts deployed by the local opinion leaders, the neighborhood of my village named Kidasi, part of Minembwe region, was attacked on 13th June 2019 due to a shooting of one person; and a revenge that killed tens. Local population have fled towards Minembwe due to an incident that could have been prevented, if there have been a presence of committed security services. Such incidents build on collective sense of victimization and popular prejudice. Nevertheless, a ‘mundane incident’ can spread widely to hundreds of kilometers. Guns are used to settle family issues as was done in my village’s neighborhood wherein driven by hatred and jealousy, one sibling killed another.

However, when visiting my own village during the fieldwork, I appreciated regular dialogue between ethnic communities. For example, the local opinion leaders managed to save the life of a local chief who was arrested by a group of gunmen. The local chief was released following their interventions. During this visit, I managed to learn also from some members of a committee in charge of reconciliation and dialogue. It was impressive to hear testimonies and efforts of ethnic communities regarding their cohabitation.  One could hope that this would be a local model of trust among communities.

My impression was that these local initiatives aiming to sustain peace needed some support. I thought my intervention could be oriented in exchanging ideas with primary and secondary school teachers. We discussed possibilities of re-constructing my primary school made up of woods and straws. Due to poverty and inaccessibility in terms of transport infrastructure, the local population cannot afford costs of a decent building. Moreover, parents are also burdened by remunerating schools’ teachers. Children from these schools drop out due to their inability to pay school fees. My discussion with teachers focused mainly on these features of having a school reconstructed and possibilities to support vulnerable parents.

We had a fruitful exchange and looked forward to support the education of the vulnerable. Together, we introduced a request within a local NGO to see their possibility to help building a school. We shared information about channels through which we can involve state authorities. Beyond that, we discussed negative effects of violent confrontation. We had many old and recent references about how violence can hardly spare any of these ethnic communities. Their role as members of the ‘literate’ class was touched.

Though these were likely minor efforts on my side, I was more oriented on normative ideas to find urgent solutions to the challenges presented in these schools. I seem to have concentrated on ‘literate’ class alone and missed to talk to someone who could just shoot (un) intentionally in the air; and will kill all efforts. As a matter of fact, the shooting by unknown assailants of a member of Babembe ethnic community, has drawn wide retaliation by (counter) attacking and ‘revenge’ on Banyamulenge ethnic community. After leaving my village, I was told that I should have met Mutamba[2]. Why? Was the view I had of the local context be interpreted as an ‘urban bias’?

Regardless of Mutamba’s literacy level, his influence relies on manipulating young people to express themselves by ‘shooting bullets in the air’. I am not yet sure if meeting Mutamba (whom I called later on phone) could have prevented my neighborhood to fall into clashes. However, I argue that in such volatile context coupled with collective victimization guns have more power than anything else. As I question Kalyvas (2006), I felt that, meeting teachers was sufficient. However, I certainly had no clue and clear information on Mutamba. I wish that I could have met many of such people if this would have spared this region.

[1] This is a given name of the guy whom I was indicated he could, by shooting in the air or target someone for his own interests, pull the neighborhood into intractable clashes.
[2] See Kalyvas, Stathis N. (2006:38-48) in “The Logic of Violence in Civil War”. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

About the author:

Delphin

Delphin Ntanyoma is a PhD candidate at the ISS. His research falls within Conflict Economics and is part of the Economics of Development & Emerging Markets (EDEM) Program. With a background of Economics and Masters’ of Art in Economics of Development from ISS, the researcher runs an online blog that shares personal views on socio-economic and political landscape of the Democratic Republic of Congo but also that of the African Great Lakes Region. The Eastern Congo Tribune Blog can be found on the following link: www.easterncongotribune.com.

 

 

 

 

 

IHSA Conference 2018 | The instrumentalisation of disasters by David Keen

Today, not just disaster but the functions—and instrumentalisation—of disaster have been brought right into the heart of Europe. If widespread official violence and the instrumentalisation of disaster can happen right under the eyes of a free press and under the watch of two of the world’s most established democracies, what then is possible in greater seclusion? This blog is based on a keynote speech delivered at the International Humanitarian Studies Association Conference held in August 2018 at the ISS.


Visiting Calais in October 2015, the child psychiatrist Lynne Jones asked, “how is it possible that on the borders of a north European town, there are some 6,000 people living in conditions worse than those I have encountered with Somali refugees on the Ethiopian border, Pakistanis after a devastating earthquake, or Darfuris in the deserts of Northern Chad, one of the poorest countries in the world?”

It was shocking to realise that such a situation could develop—and be allowed to develop—in the heart of Western Europe. When disasters have occurred in more distant lands, government and aid officials have often pointed to obstacles like remoteness, insecurity and the rainy season. But Calais is an hour-and-a-half by train from London and Paris.

Where the functions of disaster have been recognised, this has often been in relation to ‘faraway’ places. These functions may include political repression in a ‘state of emergency’ as well as profits from price movements and from the depopulation of resource-rich areas. But today, not just disaster but the functions—and instrumentalisation—of disaster have been brought right into the heart of Europe.

The instrumentalisation of disasters

A big part of the instrumentalisation of disasters today is the logic of deterrence. Many aid workers and human rights workers saw the appalling conditions on the Greek island of Lesbos as part of an attempt to deter migration. In Calais, government officials have sometimes made it pretty clear that they want to maintain pressure on the migrants and to make conditions so bad as to discourage people from coming, and migrants/refugees in Calais themselves also saw a connection. For example, one young Sudanese man from Darfur said in the summer of 2016 when we were in Calais that “beatings are getting worse as large numbers are here now and they [the police] want to discourage it.”

The political instrumentalisation of Calais has involved not just deterrence, but also political theatre aimed at domestic audiences. This is partly about stirring up fears and then exploiting them politically. Particularly in the run-up to the UK’s Brexit referendum in June 2016, Calais was repeatedly on the front page of the UK’s Daily Mail, the Daily Express, and the Sun—considered right-wing newspapers. It somehow symbolised, crystallised and exacerbated very deep-rooted fears about immigration, criminality, disease, terrorism, and loss of control.

Another political pay-off from the high-profile situation in Calais was that it allowed the British government under Labour and then under David Cameron to send a strong message that, even while still within the EU, the UK was taking tough measures to control illegal immigration. When UK border controls were set up in France in 2002, this contributed to a sharp fall in UK asylum applications. It also had the effect of fostering the informal migrant settlements around Calais, which were then used to underline the necessity of strong controls.

Ever since the first major settlement in Calais in 1999, there have been periodic police actions to intimidate and disperse people. I think a great many British people do not realise what has been done ‘on their behalf’ in Calais and surrounding areas. This is an example of what Mark Duffield referred to a long time ago as ‘functional ignorance’. The UK government is been deeply complicit in this particular ‘hostile environment’, and indeed Calais migrants have often expressed this view. The UK has helped to plan and fund dispersals and has also sometimes taken credit for them. For example, a 2010 UK government press release welcomed the package of actions agreed with France the previous year, saying a key measure was “the dismantling of the illegal encampments along the Channel and North Sea coast.”[1]

In October 2016, French police, in coordination with the UK, destroyed the most famous ‘jungle’ camp, which had been established on a landfill site ridden with asbestos in January 2015. But such measures tend to disperse migrants and make them less visible rather than actually resolving the situation. In his book Illegality Inc., Swedish anthropologist Ruben Andersson brilliantly documented the way migration controls shift the problem geographically while allowing short-term gains from appearing tough.

In Calais, the violence of French police has been well documented, for example by the Refugee Rights Data Project (now Refugee Rights Europe) and by Human Rights Watch. One Calais volunteer told us: “Everyone has had experience of teargas or rubber bullets. The head injuries from rubber bullets were terrible.”

Sadly, the very enterprise of the migrants seems to have attracted further police repression. This may reflect what Noam Chomsky once called the threat of a good example. While we were at the camp in 2016, there was a series of large-scale police raids on the surprisingly vibrant network of shops and restaurants, closing some and confiscating food, drinks and documents.

Violent action and the plausibility of propaganda

This brings me to Hannah Arendt’s concept of ‘action as propaganda’ – essentially the use of violent action (often by totalitarian regimes) to create a world in which implausible propaganda becomes more plausible over time. One historical example she gave was confining Jews to insanitary ghettoes and camps so that they came to appear disease-ridden and even less than human, in line with Nazi propaganda. Calais has been a horrendous example of ‘action as propaganda’, with harsh punishment of any signs of cultural or economic life; meanwhile, violence and disease are generally portrayed as part of the threat that Calais poses, ignoring the reality of a community that could be extraordinarily kind and hospitable. Even the violence and disease that have occurred in the camp have overwhelmingly been a consequence of neglect and overcrowding. Meanwhile, the very brutality of police responses has helped reinforce the message that these vulnerable people are somehow an existential threat to Western populations.

Calais is part of a much wider phenomenon of outsourcing migration control. This involves a large dose of de-responsibilisation, a fairly systematic tolerance for human rights abuses that are in some sense functional and that can also be conveniently blamed on others.

And if widespread official violence and the instrumentalisation of disaster can happen right under the eyes of a free press and under the watch of two of the world’s most established democracies, what then is possible in greater seclusion?

EU member states have enabled the Libyan Coast Guard to turn back thousands of people to Libya, where they face torture, sexual violence and other horrendous abuses[2]. In Sudan, the Rapid Support Forces (which grew out of the notorious Janjaweed militias responsible for genocide) have been deployed against migrants (usually from ethnic groups victimised in the genocide) as part of Sudan’s effort to demonstrate to the European Union that it can contain flows of migrants[3].

We need to be extraordinarily wary of the signals sent when certain populations are deemed systematically to be unwanted and even, in Arendt’s telling word, ‘undeportable’. Arendt showed that in the 1920s and 1930s, in a context of mass expulsions in Europe and a corresponding unwillingness to receive these people, “the very phrase ‘human rights’ became for all concerned—victims, persecutors, and onlookers alike—the evidence of hopeless idealism or fumbling feeble-minded hypocrisy.”[4] The Nazis had carefully tested the ground and found that almost no-one was willing to receive the Jews, Arendt stressed, before they launched their project of elimination.

How can all this possibly be justified? Well, today the shadowy figure of the ‘people smuggler’ has acquired important political functions as a scapegoat and a convenient alibi for neglect and abuse by a range of political authorities and unaccountable militias. Studies of the diverse economic and political functions of counterinsurgency and counterterrorism suggest that the rebel or terrorist has frequently become a kind of useful enemy[5]; I would suggest that in many ways the figure of ‘people smuggler’ has stepped conveniently into this pre-existing paradigm. And like the terrorist, the ‘exploitative smuggler’ is also routinely reproduced by the policies of those who claim to revile him, not least the tightening of immigration controls (as Andersson and others have shown).

Closely related to the relentless official focus on the ‘human smuggler’ is the tendency to place everything within an ‘anti-crime’ framework. Again, crime is a reality, but it is very dangerous when anything and anyone remotely connected to migration—including the attempt to claim asylum—is labelled as criminal. The emerging ‘anti-crime’ framework is also a great alibi for abusive officials or neglectful officials and a great way of disguising official involvement in fuelling conflict.

The redefinition of humanitarianism

Closely related to the war on crime and on human smugglers is a fairly systematic redefinition of humanitarianism. Humanitarianism has today been routinely redefined as the prevention of dangerous journeys. In these circumstances, Western government policies that make these journeys more dangerous; for example, the curbing of search-and-rescue in the Mediterranean, or encouraging violence in Calais, or even turning a blind eye to attacks on migrants travelling through Mexico serve as another form of Arendt’s ‘action as propaganda’. Within this emerging system, drowning may come to serve two related functions—first, as deterrence and, second, as propaganda for the allegedly ‘humanitarian’ project of preventing people from making the journey in the first place.

It seems to be a case – to paraphrase Henry II’s infamous reported incitement to the murder of archbishop Thomas-a-Becket, of “who will rid us of these troublesome migrants?” As with the creation of ‘safe areas’ in Bosnia that turned out not to be safe, Western governments cannot be honest about the evolving situation in France, Greece, Libya, Sudan, Mexico, Turkey, Sri Lanka and many other countries when they are obsessed with containing people within those environments.


[1] UK Prime Minister’s Office, 2010, UK-France Summit 2010 Declaration on Immigration, November 2. https://www.gov.uk/government/news/uk-france-summit-2010-declaration-on-immigration
[2] Amnesty International, 2017, Libya’s Dark Web of Collusion, December
[3] Suliman Baldo, 2017, Ominous Threats Descending on Darfur, Enough, Washington, November; Susanne Jaspars and Margie Buchanan-Smith, 2018, Darfuri migration from Sudan to Europe; From displacement to despair, ODI, London, September forthcoming
[4] Hannah Arendt, 1951, The Origins of Totalitarianism, New York, Harcourt Brace.
[5] David Keen, 2012, Useful Enemies: When Waging Wars is More Important than Winning Them, Yale University Press.

David-Keen.jpgAbout the author: 

David Keen is Professor of Conflict Studies, London School of Economics. He has worked extensively on understanding war, including its causes and functions.

(How) should scholars say what humanitarians can’t? by Roanne van Voorst and Isabelle Desportes

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In January this year, a long day of interviewing aid workers involved in the Myanmar Rohingya crisis revealed that these aid workers often refrain from talking about the human rights violations in Myanmar. Out of fear to be forced to cease operations or to get fired, they keep silent and carry on. This raises the question: should the scholars engaging with them speak up in their stead? This blog provides a reflection of whether and how scholars can get involved in the entanglements of humanitarianism and conflict. It also provides insights into the ethical and practical reasons why both aid workers and scholars sometimes hesitate to become more engaged.


The time we were doing fieldwork relating to the governance and the accountability of aid in Myanmar coincided with a massive exodus of the Rohingya Muslim minority fleeing persecution and the destruction of their homes in the northwestern Rakhine province. Yet, as we asked broader questions relating to the accountability of aid, the stories of humanitarian aid workers resounded with us. Stories of frustration and powerlessness, as they felt barriers were posed to their work not only by authorities, but also by their own organisations. As scholars, we felt determined that we wanted to ‘do something’. But along with this urge to act came insecurities and concerns.

Providing aid in restrictive settings

Local and international relief agencies that work in restrictive conflict settings are doing something that is intrinsically difficult. Often perceived as a threat by authorities involved in violence, agencies need to make sure they remain tolerated and even supported by these same authorities in order to operate effectively and deliver aid to those in need. In practice in Myanmar, aid agencies are stuck in the middle of two discourses: that of the United Nations that from afar qualifies the military offensive in Rakhine as a « textbook example of ethnic cleansing », and that of Myanmar authorities, who claim they were fighting Rohingya militias only and deny targeting civilians.

Faced with the overwhelming need for support to continue operating in the field, most humanitarian agencies refrain from being overtly critical of human rights violations and prefer to assert their position as impartial and neutral aid providers. Only very few are allowed by the government to work in Rakhine, and those who may, generally keep silent about what they observe. No wonder: when in 2014 Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) said that it was deeply concerned about the tens of thousands of people it was treating, the government forced it to cease operations in Myanmar. In order to avoid that for their own organisations, most aid agencies active on the ground thus strictly do and say what they’ve agreed to in (obligated) memoranda of understanding with the government—even if that does not match needs on the ground.

The personal dilemmas of humanitarians

These strategic decisions, however understandable, can have major consequences for the people whom agencies come to assist, but also have psychological implications for relief workers. Many suffer from what Hugo Slim has termed ‘bystander anxiety’. And this was also evident during our interviews: many of those we talked to in Yangon felt anxious and frustrated by the violence they observed in the field and the self-censorship they observed within their own organisations.

One field officer of a large international organisation felt that his agency was « sacrifying its principles and moral authority » in exchange for Rakhine field access and status, which was not even alleviating suffering on the ground because the government forbade actual activities. After he anonymously spoke to journalists, the whole team received a serious warning never to speak to the press again. He lamented the complete lack of internal discussions on these dilemmas, even as many of the staff, including Rohingya, « begged the organisation to speak out ».

We heard many similar stories from humanitarians working for INGOs or the UN. They could not openly discuss, let alone act upon, what they observed in the field. Particularly in meetings attended by the government, they knew « not to be critical ».

Here is where the scholars could come in, but often don’t do so.

Four broad arguments can motivate scholars to engage in the humanitarianism-conflict debate. First, as independent researchers in the field, scholars have more freedom to speak up. Second, many will argue that ‘speaking the truth’ is a scholarly duty. Third, scholars’ voice might carry differently than that of human rights organisations or journalists, as scholars are supposed to adhere to rigorous scientific and ethical standards that grant their research some credibility. Last, academics increasingly vary their channels to seek ‘societal impact’. Newspaper articles, debate evenings, social media and blogs such as this one can help convey to a wider audience what would otherwise remain obscured.

But this freedom comes with responsibilities. Scholars, somewhat like humanitarians, tread a fine line between engaging in effective action and making their own work—or worse, that of relief agencies or local research partners—harder or even impossible to carry out. Discussions about the role of researchers are by no means new. Take the discussions on scholar activism and action research (combing research and social change work), or the divide in the field of anthropology, amongst others, between those who believe they should retain distance in the field and those who support local activism or other types of involvement.

Ethics aren’t the only reason scholars often don’t speak up. Many of the issues that came up during our Myanmar discussions were practical, concerning safety, future access to visas and research permits, academic integrity, and access to non-academic channels, both in terms of networks and skills. Myanmar is a complex setting to work in, not only for humanitarians. Scholars and journalists also face difficulties in accessing the field, while some have been deported or arrested.

Moreover, the ‘hard evidence’ was thin. There would not be enough informants allowing for the rigorous cross-validation of statements. Interviews could not always be recorded and informants insisted that they, their agency and the locality where they operated should remain confidential to avoid raising colleagues’ or authorities’ suspicions. Were these stories even convincing enough for people who hadn’t been here, let alone fulfilling academic standards? Wouldn’t journalists after all be a better fit to relay them?

The answers might differ for each scholar, for each person. We share them to stir up a conversation and to share our doubts with researchers and (inter)national practitioners alike. Even with intentions to change local realities for the better, it’s not easy to take the leap from scholar to messenger. Yet, who else would fulfil that role?

This blog is a first attempt to support humanitarians who can’t speak up.


chantal-ariens-portret-high-res.jpgAbout the authors:

Roanne van Voorst is a postdoctoral researcher involved in the research projectisa”When disaster meets conflict. Disaster response of humanitarian aid and local state and non-state institutions in different conflict scenarios” at the ISS.

Isabelle Desportes is a PhD candidate working on the governance of disaster response, in particular the interplay between humanitarian and local actors.

 

The Hague Peace Projects: practicing peace and justice by Helen Hintjens

How can peace and justice be embodied? How can we move from thinking about societal problems to taking concrete action to bring about change? The Hague Peace Projects, a program bringing together diaspora communities in The Hague to think and act together to build peace, shows us how these principles can be brought to life.


Art assumes many roles beyond acting as a canvas for self-expression, from creating greater consciousness of societal problems to serving as a platform for activism. It is a central element of The Hague Peace Projects (THPP), a program that promotes dialogue and campaigns for change through a variety of means. The project, which engages diaspora communities to advocate for peace, can inspire others to become involved in this or similar local initiatives to embody the change they aspire to.

On a (peace) mission

Located in The Hague, known as the City of Peace and Justice, THPP is one of several programs working with diaspora communities to involve them in contributing to positive change in their home countries and across Europe. The project’s main goals are to work toward a world in which conflict between humans, groups of people and countries are not solved by violence, but “through dialogue, respect for human rights, and honest cooperation between equals” (THPP).

THPP was established in 2015 by Jakob de Jonge, himself an artist. The project seeks to help find peaceful solutions to (armed) conflicts. It brings together diaspora from conflict zones that live in The Netherlands, facilitating their collaboration toward finding realistic solutions to local conflicts. The project is based on the belief that diaspora communities know best what causes conflict in their home regions and how such conflicts can be addressed in a non-violent manner. Through dialogue, social media, blogs and public events of all kinds, THPP contributes to diasporic dialogues. THPP also views art as a medium of communication for peace.

Change through action

Jakob explains that he was inspired by his friend Sylvestre Bwira, a Congolese human rights defender, to start this project. Jakob defines THPP as “both a think-tank and a do-tank” spreading “creativity and hope”. THPP’s approach echoes the goals of ISS, which increasingly places emphasis on the importance of scholar activism in bringing about change. Both organisations wish to be “critical but constructive”, grounded in “grassroots communities”, and reaching out to influence “platforms of power”.

THPP is reliant on volunteers, who in turn feel themselves part of a movement for social justice and peace. Having worked with THPP on several projects related to the African Great Lakes region, I put a few questions to Jakob:

Can you tell BLISS readers how art connects with advocacy through The Hague Peace Projects?

As a ‘socially engaged’ artist, it felt weird working alone in a studio. I wanted to connect with people as much as possible, so I decided to engage people through my art. Through visual art I try to present the disturbing mix of horror and beauty that we see in the world. What inspires me is the hope that things can be different if you genuinely desire it to be. Art is also a way to uncover a glimpse of optimism, in the belief that ideas come to life through visualisation, as with THPP’s exhibition The Survivors, in 2016, inspired by a Syrian boy’s drawings. Idealistic as it may seem, THPP is all about transforming reality, however slowly.

What THPP activities have touched you most deeply?

What moves me and keeps me going are the everyday life stories of colleagues I work with. THPP is based on working groups of diaspora members (mostly refugees) from different conflict regions around the world. Each working group establishes its own space for ongoing dialogue between conflicting communities. This creates basic trust between those who might otherwise fear to connect with others in daily life. This trust becomes fertile ground for all sorts of relevant peacebuilding activities.

Two things have especially moved me: First, many colleagues in the THPP working groups have a history of severe suffering. Team members have personally paid a high price for being seen as a member of a certain social group, or for speaking out for the rights of others. They have been tortured, detained, lost their families, witnessed unspeakable crimes and finally, have had to flee abroad. They often lost everything.

Coming from Sudan, the DRC, Bangladesh, Uganda, Syria, Burundi, Turkey, Sri Lanka and elsewhere, it strikes me how resilient, hopeful and committed to change they remain. The people I work with strive for positive outcomes, even when these are hard to imagine. It moves me very much when you see a person’s attitude change over time, from fearful, emotional and easily triggered, to more relaxed, open and creative.

Similarly, publicly commemorating the murder of Bangladeshi writer and free thinker Avijit Roy, as we have done annually since 2016 remains a very special moment. It is a powerful reminder you can never really silence someone through violence. Seeing friendships develop between Turks and Kurds, seeing Dutch Somalis getting together for something positive like Somali poetry, rather than the usual stigmatising divisions, or just dancing together at THPP office with people of every background, including Hutu, Tutsi and Twa. There have just been too many beautiful moments!

After three years, how do you reflect on working in the City of Peace and Justice?

I collaborate well and on many levels with The Hague Municipality. We fully support their mission of striving to be a City of Peace and Justice. In fact, that is how we chose our name. “The Hague” gives many people around the world hope that their tormentors may eventually end up in prison in Scheveningen!

At the same time I believe much more can be done to make the City of Peace and Justice more than a mission statement. The idea is very powerful and creates a kind of responsibility to be different from other cities. The challenge is to show what peace and justice look like in reality, not only internationally, but for all the city’s inhabitants, and across all layers of policy.

How can interested parties become involved?

We are a 99% volunteer organisation and rely heavily on volunteers for goodwill and to take initiative. We always need qualified and motivated people to join our network, so if you are interested, please send an email and your CV to info@thehaguepeace.org.


Main Photo: The Hague Peace Projects

20160917_190837Dr Helen Hintjens is Assistant Professor in Development and Social Justice at the ISS, working in the field of migration. Like Jakob, she graduated with a BA in Fine Art from the Royal Academy of Art (KABK) in The Hague. From 2015 to 2017, she collaborated with THPP to organise three African Great Lakes Diaspora conferences that were held at the ISS. The first conference report is on the THPP’s website; the second conference produced the Declaration and Plan of Action on the role of diaspora media in peacebuilding in the Great Lakes Region. The third conference on women, men and peacebuilding, will be reported on soon. Watch this space!