by Kenneth D. Bush
INTRODUCTION
In the early and mid-1990s, the phrase "like-Somalia-and-Yugoslavia" was a frequent refrain in both policy and academic circles. The phrase punctuated a wide array of positions and policies many of which were mutually incompatible. Yet at the same time, one commentator cautioned enigmatically that "we should be careful not to learn too much from Somalia." One is struck by two questions: what lessons should be drawn from the case of Somalia, and as importantly, to what extent can they be applied to other cases of "complex humanitarian emergencies"? These are the principal questions which underpin the current study of Somalia as a means of reflecting on some of the challenges facing foreign policy makers in a post-Cold War world. On the one hand, Somalia was initially cast as "the ideal test case" of the leadership of the United Nations in a new and evolving world order.1 Yet, the complexities, particularities and indeterminate outcome of international intervention make it clear that Somalia cannot be used as a model for the construction of a "new" world order. Indeed, unless the international community is able to discern and learn the appropriate lessons from its experience in Somalia, the case may serve as a convenient justification for retrenchment, isolationism and retreat from the most pressing challenges of the post-Cold War era. In the end, it may well pave the way for the capricious and inconsistent foreign policy responses that have been labelled elsewhere as "bungee cord humanitarianism."2
This article reviews the evolution of the crisis in Somalia, and the international response in the form of: the First United Nations Operation in Somalia, the United Nations Task Force in Somalia, and Second United Nations Operation in Somalia (UNOSOM I, UNITAF, and UNOSOM II). The article develops the concept of a "mission for peace" as a means of understanding and assessing large-scale, multifaceted, externally-led, humanitarian interventions.3 By developing this concept, we may both improve our capacity to assess international responses to Somalia, and formulate better responses to humanitarian crises when they arise and ideally, before they arise. The most recent example of this type of "operation" was the short-lived Canadian-led initiative in late 1996 to establish a
Multinational Force (MNF) in Eastern Zaire, as sanctioned by Security Council Resolution 1080 (1996). We should be clear about the context within which missions for peace are attempted. They are undertaken only after national and international actors have failed to resolve, defuse, or perhaps even recognize, those simmering tensions and conflicts that have usually followed a clear and unambiguous descent into violence.4 This article is structured as follows: Part I examines some of the methodological and conceptual issues related to a mission for peace; Part II focuses on the evolution of the Somalia crisis, and subsequent international response. The article concludes with a discussion of some of the lessons drawn from the case that should be applied to similar challenges elsewhere in the world.
MISSIONS FOR PEACE
What are we referring to when we use the term "mission for peace?" How do we recognize one when we see one? Why do we need a new term when there already exists a smorgasbord of related, albeit often misapplied, terms? Clearly, missions for peace need to be distinguished conceptually from other related, but different, activities undertaken in the international political arena. There is a danger that "missions for peace" may be conceived so broadly as to include almost any "helpful" international initiative, from a "barefoot doctor" training program sponsored by the Canadian Physicians for Aid and Relief (CPAR) to the forcible disarming of combatants by an armed multinational force. As a definitional starting point, a "mission for peace" is an initiative, launched in an environment characterized by latent or manifest violence, that seeks to foster and support sustainable structures and processes which strengthen the prospects for peaceful coexistence and decrease the likelihood of the outbreak, reoccurrence or continuation of violent conflict. It is an endeavor which incorporates a broad range of activities undertaken by an equally broad range of actors (governmental, non-governmental, private, multinational). Each of the examples noted above (the barefoot doctor program and the action to disarm combatants) may be part of a mission for peace, but neither on its own constitutes a mission in toto. The multifaceted nature of missions for peace distinguishes them from the discrete types of activities identified by the former UN Secretary General Boutros Boutros-Ghali in his Agenda for Peace (June 1992), namely, preventive diplomacy, peacekeeping, peacemaking and peacebuilding.
In addition to their multifaceted nature, missions for peace are also characterized by short- and long-term objectives, for example, short-term humanitarian and relief operations and longer term development objectives, institutional capacity building objectives, and so on. Importantly, in a successful mission, the immediate, short-term (and often interventionary) efforts are linked systematically to the longer term efforts and objectives. The disconnection between the short-term and the long-term leaves open the possibility that short-term efforts and objectives may compromise the attainment of long-term goals. Similarly, as demonstrated by the Somalia case below, the disarticulation of efforts by different actors (humanitarian, military, diplomatic, developmental and so on) may lead to a situation where the various contributions undercut rather than reinforce each other.
The objective of a mission for peace is not a return to a status quo ante. The status quo ante bellum is rarely a desirable state of affairs, and in most cases years of violent conflict and profound changes in the international political economy have destroyed any chance of returning to the status quo. The ultimate objective of a mission for peace is the creation of a new basis for peaceful coexistence. The end point of a mission is not the creation of a conflict-free utopia, but a society in which conflict may be dealt with non-violently as it arises through sustainable, indigenous, structures and processes.
Missions for peace are premised on the understanding that even in the most extreme cases of conflict, violence is rarely so undifferentiated or impenetrable that it completely forecloses all efforts to deconstruct structures of violence and to construct structures of peace. Based on years of studying conflict and discord in the Middle East, Edward Azar concludes:
Conflictual and cooperative events flow together even in the most severe of intense conflicts. Cooperative events are sometimes far more numerous than conflictual ones even in the midst of intense social conflict situations. However, conflictual events are clearly more absorbing and have more impact on determining the consequent actions of groups and nations [and one might add, on determining the outsider's impression of the conflict]. Cooperative events are not sufficient to abate protracted social conflicts. Tension reduction measures may make the conflict more bearable in the short term, but conflict resolution involves a far more complex process than mere conflict management.5
In other words, even in cases of severe protracted conflict there exist the peaceful spaces within which local and international actors may collectively engage in missions for peace. These spaces are fluid, tenuous, and dangerous, but very much in existence. The optimization of the opportunities offered by these spaces requires sensitivity, creativity and timing.6 Missions for peace may serve to consolidate and expand these "islands of peace," even in the midst of continuing violence. The importance of this process is three-fold. First, it empowers peace-seeking groups and individuals to begin the process of establishing alternative and accommodating bases for structuring social relations that challenge the brutal "might is right" ethic of the predominant system. Second, it encourages the development of a partnership between international and local actors, and may thereby increase the efficacy of a mission for peace and its chances for success. And finally, related to the last point, the cultivation and expansion of peace-seeking segments of society adds to the sustainability of the results of the mission.
The concept of a mission for peace is a necessary next step in the Agenda for Peace debates. A conspicuous limitation of Boutros-Ghali's paper is its insistence on maintaining the state as the principal actor in international peace efforts. While state actors undoubtedly are central actors in some of these efforts, they are neither the only, nor necessarily the most important, actors. Non-state actors are increasingly central to international responses to those conflicts attracting international attention from the crucial role of civilians in the UN mission in Cambodia to the front line humanitarian role of NGOs in Rwanda, Zaire and other conflicts around the world.7 Missions for peace require that the participation of both state and non-state actors be on an equal footing based on their respective capacities. In this context, it is important that non-state actors such as NGOs participate not only in the implementation phases of a mission for peace, but in the planning, formulation and decision-making phases as well.
While Boutros-Ghali reinvigorated and delineated peacekeeping, peacemaking, peacebuilding and preventive diplomacy, the cases that act as the major points of reference in contemporary international politics involve a combination of these activities. Thus, the concept of a mission for peace in this article is rooted in the belief that any successful peace initiative must necessarily include elements from all of these areas of action. While it is important to distinguish each of these four types of activity conceptually and operationally, a central idea in a mission for peace is that the success of a peace initiative is more than the sum of the separate impacts of each of these activities. Success is dependent upon the ways in which the different components of these types of interventions "mesh" with each other, and as importantly, with existing social, political and economic structures within war-torn societies. To the extent that these pieces fit together, the likelihood of an effective intervention is increased. Conversely, to the extent that they do not fit together, there is a danger that such interventions may be ineffective, or worse, counterproductive. As has been pointed out by others, the minimum requirement of international actors in conflict-prone settings is that they at least "do no harm" through their interventions.8
As noted above, missions for peace are made up of a variety of both actors and activities. However, it should be clear that particular types of actors are better suited to play the particular roles in each of the areas of action specified by Boutros-Ghali. Peacekeeping is best undertaken by military actors;9 peacemaking and preventive diplomacy are best tackled by formal political actors and organizations, including political leaders and statesmen, as well as recognized and accepted leaders of the groups involved in a conflict; and peacebuilding falls most clearly within the purview of private sector actors, NGOs, community organizations, and so on. Therefore, just as NGOs should not be expected to play a peacekeeping role, the military, as conventionally constituted, should not be expected to play a peacebuilding role. In missions for peace, the success of one activity is often related to the success of the others. However, while these types of activities may be inter-dependent, they are not inter-changeable. By focusing broadly on missions for peace, one is better able to understand the linkages between these distinct, but inter-related activities.
Because missions for peace encompass such diverse types of activity, they are characterized by the broad scope of their activities in the security, political and socio-economic arenas. This may include the stabilization of the security situation, provision of humanitarian relief, brokering of local, national, and international peace agreements, cultivation of appropriate and acceptable political and economic institutions, as well as rehabilitation, reconstruction, and reconciliation. Each of these activities is but one component of a mission for peace. When considered as a whole we come closer to the phenomenon we wish to understand.
Was the operation in Somalia a mission for peace? Yes, the operation was a mission for peace because it possessed many of the components discussed above. However, it was a failed mission for peace. As such, it may teach us as much about what not to do, as what we should do when confronted by similar challenges in the future.
THE EVOLUTION OF CRISIS IN SOMALIA
The media have tended to cast Somalia as a brutal "war of all against all" a Hobbesian world where human action is motivated entirely by selfish concerns; where the desire for security is inseparable from the desire for power pursued through the use of force.10 While this characterization serves to highlight one facet of the dynamic of violence that has escalated steadily in Somalia, it simultaneously obscures traditional forms of conflict management, such as traditional and elder-based systems, that have addressed disputes non-violently, both prior to and during the period of concerted international intervention. Furthermore, the Hobbesian world view is premised on the individual as the basic political unit, whereas the Somalian world view is deeply grounded in the clan. In Somalia, it is the social network rather than the individual that constitutes the bedrock of social, political and economic life. This is the social reality that must orient international responses in Somalia and in other regions with similar kinds of social structures. While the Hobbesian conception of anarchy is an inaccurate characterization of Somalia, a broader political realist conception of the term may be appropriate if it is understood to refer generally to a system lacking a central authority capable of imposing order or control. Anarchy in this latter sense has been used by political realists of all stripes to describe an essential feature of the international system. It is in this particular sense that one can describe international intervention in Somalia as the meeting of two anarchies one inter-national, the other intra-national.
The current analysis begins with the successful coup by Major General Mohamed Siyad Barre in 1969. While recognizing the importance of the pre-Barre period, the current discussion begins here because the Barre regime (aided and abetted by international actors) established the foundation for the intensity and destructiveness of the conflict which followed. Like previous Somali leaders before and after independence in 1960,11 Barre established a support network based on nepotism, clan allegiances and connections. By playing off clans and sub-clans, he fuelled factional power struggles as a means of defusing opposition to his rule. He concentrated power in his hands, cracked down on dissent, weakened the civil service and politicized the military.12 Economic conditions in the country deteriorated, both as a result of Barre's rule and the ravages of the international political economy.13
It was during the Barre regime that inter-clan conflicts were militarized. The large quantity of arms currently amplifying the impact of violence and inhibiting conflict management efforts in Somalia is the legacy of superpower rivalry during the Cold War. The importance of the Horn of Africa in the strategic calculations of the Soviet Union and United States in the 1970s and 1980s enabled Barre to play the two off against each other in order to amass a substantial arsenal. By the mid-1970s the apex of the Soviet-Somali friendship Somalia is argued to have possessed the best-equipped armed forces in sub-Saharan Africa.14 In 1977, Barre conveniently shuffled allegiances, expelled the Soviets, and made way for American military support. By 1990, under American tutelage, Somalia had built up a military force of over 65,000. In proportion to its population at the time (six million), the Somali military force was huge by African standards.
The militarization of Somali society refers not only to the size of the military and the influx of weapons into streets and fields. It also refers to the tendency for inter-group relations and conflict to be defined in narrow military terms. Typically, this coincides with an increase in military-related expenditures, and a crack-down on even minor expressions of dissent. More generally, militarization is a phenomenon in which "political" problems come to be represented as "military" problems. And, by extension, military problems are seen to require military solutions.15
Increasingly, Barre was attacked by opponents, including some within the military,16 particularly following his military adventurism that led to the defeat of the Somali armed forces by Ethiopia in the war of 1977-78. Attacks against the Barre regime occurred as shifting inter-clan coalitions began to erode his ability to maintain a support base. Two dangerous and related processes are evident during this period: the "ethnicization" of the Somali military forces and militarization of clan-based groupings:
Problems in the military became obvious in the late 1980s as feuding between rival generals and their clans hampered the army's ability to fight the rebels. The army's problems were exacerbated by the fact that in the 1980s, recruitment proceeded along clan lines, with new recruits being put into units from their own areas and under officers from their own clans. As a result, by the late 1980s, there was no clear difference between regular army units and clan militias.17
By 1988, violent opposition to the Barre regime had coalesced into a savage civil war with all the attendant atrocities: the targeting and massacre of civilians, the indiscriminate use of land mines, the poisoning of wells, and the slaughter of livestock. Between May 1988 and December 1989, 50-60,000 people were killed in the violence most were members of the Issaq clan, an anti-Barre group from northern Somalia.18 Violence escalated as brutality and human rights abuses were matched and often surpassed by armed gangs from all sides. It is estimated that 450,000 Somalis fled to Ethiopia seeking refuge while 600,000 were internally displaced.19
Because power was centralized in Barre's hands over a span of almost twenty years, the few existing political institutions functioned principally as an extension of his personalized rule. Thus, there was no reason to expect even minimal institutional continuity when Barre left the political stage. Not surprisingly then, when Barre was overthrown in January 1991, there were no real state institutions to be taken over. However, even if such institutions had existed, no group (or coalition of groups) was powerful enough to seize control, or popular enough to win it. Following a fleeting period of post-Barre optimism in Somalia, violent inter-clan and intra-clan rivalries reignited in rural and urban areas. Although many in the diplomatic community left the country following the fall of Barre, several NGOs and international organizations stayed on to respond to the needs of Somalis, despite changing and uncertain political and security environments; these included CARE, OXFAM, Medecins Sans Frontier, the Mennonite Central Committee, the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), the International Federation of the Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies, UNICEF, the UN High Commissioner for Refugees, the Department of Humanitarian Affairs, and the World Food Programme.
Without an overarching system of political control within Somalia, self-protection became necessary, and self-aggrandizement by marauding bands of clan-based "militias" became rampant. This led to the present situation in which power and authority reside predominantly in clan-based "warlords" and their gunmen.20 The "power of the gun" became the basis for the authority of warlords, displacing the traditional system based on clan elders. There arose a fluid and volatile environment in which armed groups sought to protect or expand their territorial and resource base. The differences between old rivalries and new forms of conflict are described by Wollacott as follows:
[it was] a new kind of social violence, still clan-based, but with vicious differences. First, the main actors were not traditional 'big men' from the clans, but upstart leaders without the same responsibilities or backgrounds. Second, the fighting was mechanized, machine guns replaced rifles. Third, traditional institutions which had mitigated and mediated clan rivalries, like the blood price system, had withered away. Fourth, the violence was now commercially sustained by a complex trade in which drugs, mainly the local favourite qat, and food, including aid shipments, are traded off for the fuel, ammunition, and other supplies necessary to maintain armies and patronage structures of the warlords.21
The clan rivalries exacerbated by Barre's regime are evident in the pattern of violence in Somalia today. On one level, Somali politics appear to have reverted to pre-colonial ways, when clans and sub-clans fought and formed alliances in a series of perpetual skirmishes in order to maintain control of roughly defined parcels of land. However, there are two fundamental differences with the situation as it stands today. First, the pervasiveness of powerful weapons has profoundly increased the destructive and disruptive force of inter-clan and intra-clan rivalry. Second, there has been an equally profound change in the international context within which such corrosive types of conflict take place. The first difference has amplified the sense of anarchy in Somalia while the second difference, as discussed below, allowed for an unprecedented international intervention into a humanitarian crisis.
In a country whose food supply has always been dependent on erratic rain fall, Somalia was again in the midst of a severe drought in late 1991. This, combined with the civil war, caused agricultural production to plummet. Food production in Somalia was estimated to be only 30 percent of normal levels.22 The situation became increasingly desperate as hunger and starvation became conspicuous weapons of war. Armed factions prevented aid agencies from delivering food aid and humanitarian assistance. The looting of food convoys and feeding stations seriously hindered humanitarian efforts. In March 1992, the ICRC reported "horrifying" levels of 90 percent moderate to severe malnutrition in the populations around Beledweyne and Marka.23 It was estimated that of the 4.5 million Somali population south of the disputed territory of Somaliland, one-third, or 1.5 million people were at serious risk of death from starvation over a six month period.
By the fall of 1991, the areas in and around Mogadishu had become a war zone. Armed groups launched massive artillery attacks on areas controlled by rivals in different parts of the city. Throughout the country, war had devastated much of Somalia's physical infrastructure, especially bridges, schools, airports and hospitals. Between mid-November 1991 and February 1992, it is estimated that 1,200 people per week were killed outright or died of their injuries, while another 2,500 were surviving wounded with casualties reaching 41,000 for this eleven-week period.24
By February 1992, the military confrontation had reached a stalemate despite heavy nighttime artillery barrages and sporadic daytime barrages. Mogadishu was cleaved in two, each section "controlled" by one of the major warlords and their respective clans. The southern two-thirds of the city, including the air field and deep water port, was controlled by General Aideed. The northern third of the city, including the hills overlooking the harbor, were controlled by Ali Madhi.25
As early as 1990, NGOs had been warning of looming catastrophe in Somalia, and clearly the violence had been festering for considerably longer than that. But the international community was distracted by events elsewhere, especially in the Middle East and the former Yugoslavia. There is a general consensus among analysts that the international community was very slow to respond to the Somalia tragedy. Despite the long-time activities of multilateral agencies and NGOs in Somalia, broader UN involvement did not begin until January 1992, when the position of UN Secretary General was awarded to Boutros Boutros-Ghali, the former Egyptian minister of state for foreign affairs with a long-standing interest in the Horn of Africa. By mid-1992, the UN began to take a more prominent role in organizing the delivery of humanitarian assistance.
A Bolt from the Blue
Before the large-scale missions to Somalia, most governments' relations with the country were decidedly ambivalent despite the presence of international NGOs in the Horn of Africa for the decade before the UNOSOM/ UNITAF missions. The lack of international attention to Somalia is due partly to its lack of economic presence as an international trading partner.26 It was also a function of the Cold War; that is, given the superpower overlay of politics in the Horn, countries self-consciously maintained a low profile in the region. If this is so, then it begs the question of why the international community chose to participate so vigorously, so suddenly.
The main factors animating the international response to the Somalia tragedy were the same as those underpinning its involvement in the Ethiopian famines of the 1980s. Most significant was the public pressure fanned by the media coverage of the human face of the catastrophe.27 The rallying of international attention through the media generated bottom-up pressure on Western governments. When growing domestic constituencies begin to demand their government's involvement in an increasingly public crisis, a government may be prodded into action. Thus, a crucial motivation for the large-scale response through the UN was the need for governments to maintain public, i.e., electoral, support. This was certainly the case for President George Bush who saw the possibility of attracting public support for the upcoming election. In addition to the pressure from below to be seen to be responding, governments were pressured "from above," by actors in the international community. A positive response to requests for participation in United Nations initiatives provided the governments with the opportunity to defuse pressure from both above and below. As discussed further below, it appears that the decision to participate in the UN mission was expedited by the perception among some advisors and decision makers that it seemed "do-able."28
Once the international political will was in place, there was a massive increase in the volume of assistance to Somalia, especially through multilateral channels. Significantly, the volume of assistance appears to have dropped as precipitously as it rose. There are a number of possible explanations for this. One possibility is that Somalia may have lost its salience in domestic politics once it faded from the headlines. Just as the arrival of the Americans had pushed the Somalia tragedy onto the main stage, their exit pulled it into the wings. The departure of the Americans was followed by the departure of every other peacekeeping contingent by March 1995. Another explanation is based on the law of supply and demand: by 1994, the food pipeline into Somalia had become congested. A basic emergency food distribution system was in place, even though it was stressed by high demand and looting by bandits. Nonetheless, mass starvation was postponed. Despite the easing of the immediate food crisis, the underlying causes remain unaffected, and as significantly, violence began to increase. As a result, many NGOs and multilateral agencies pulled out or scaled down operations. Thus, the reduction of direct international assistance was also related to the aid agencies pull out precipitated by the hazardous security situation.
When Two Anarchies Meet
The dynamics of conflict among clans and sub-clans in Somalia was mirrored in less violent ways in the relations between the international actors involved in relief operations, especially those under the auspices of the United Nations. The squabbling and turf fights among and between UN and non-UN actors in Somalia became increasingly public as the operation expanded in size and scope.29 Some of the most penetrating criticism of the UN operation in Somalia has come from Mohamed Sahnoun, the former UN Secretary General's Special Representative in Somalia. He is reported to have said that the failure of relief operations was due to "an overwhelming United Nations bureaucracy that, in contrast to the Red Cross, is made up of civil servants more interested in careers and perquisites than in the job at hand."30 As discussed below, this has clear implications for the efficacy of a mission for peace, or for any smaller scale UN intervention into a humanitarian crisis.
There is a discernible pattern in the UN responses to Somalia in 1992. The year was marked by a series of Security Council resolutions which were passed, subsequently deemed ineffective, and then replaced by new ones. Through this process, the Security Council became increasingly prominent and interventionist in Somalia. Its resolutions spanned the range of options, from a complete weapons embargo in January 1992 to armed "humanitarian intervention" by the end of the year.
The first United Nations Operation in Somalia (UNOSOM I) was authorized by Security Council Resolution 751 of 24 April 1992. This operation followed from the failed February 1992 ceasefire agreement, brokered by the UN, the OAU, the Arab League and the Islamic Conference. Although the agreement was signed by the leaders of the main warring factions (Aideed and Ali Madhi), it was summarily ignored by the warriors in each camp. Fighting continued unabated, as factions blocked the delivery of humanitarian assistance to Somalis in increasingly desperate conditions throughout the country. In response to the lack of cooperation by combatants, the Secretary General dispatched a UN technical team to Somalia to study the possibility of sending military observers.
Resolution 751 called for the establishment of a peacekeeping force to provide security for humanitarian activities in Mogadishu. This included the deployment of 50 unarmed military observers to monitor the ceasefire agreement in the city. After much haggling between UN representatives and clan factions, UN troops were eventually deployed. On paper the number of peacekeepers was increased to a few hundred, but on the ground the UNOSOM I force never grew substantially. Importantly, Resolution 751 also agreed in principle to the idea of a UN force to escort the delivery of humanitarian aid.
A UN donor conference of 39 countries in Geneva in October 1992 produced a 100-day accelerated plan for Somalia, which was intended to expedite and better coordinate international humanitarian efforts. By late October, it was clear that the new plan was not working as intended. Armed factions continued to obstruct and loot humanitarian aid in addition to extorting international humanitarian organizations in southern and central Somalia. It quickly became apparent that the small UN peacekeeping contingent was wholly unsuited to ensuring that humanitarian aid was delivered throughout the country.
Following the ineffective UNOSOM I mission, Secretary General Boutros-Ghali sought to launch a UN operation with a functioning military enforcement mechanism by invoking Chapter VII of the Charter.31 James Jonah, the United Nations Under Secretary General for Political Affairs at the time, is candid in his discussion of the Security Council debate on the Secretary General's request for what amounted to armed humanitarian intervention.32 One particularly striking feature of the debate was the degree to which the previously inviolable principle of state sovereignty was not a constraint on the Council's decision-making.33 In the end, the United Nations Task Force (UNITAF) was chosen as the most appropriate response. This was an American-led force of 30,000 troops from 23 countries authorized by Security Council Resolution 794 on 3 December 1992 "to use all necessary means to establish as soon as possible a secure environment for relief operations in Somalia" in particular the protection of relief convoys from looting by clan-based militias. Although UNITAF was UN-endorsed, it was not UN-controlled. It was not until UNOSOM II that troops fell under the direct control of the Secretary General, although the operation remained US-dominated until the American pull-out in March 1994.
Resolution 794 has profound implications for international humanitarian law. Traditionally, the UN claimed the right to use force only in response to an illegal act of aggression by one state against another, such as the case of Iraq in 1990-91. The Security Council circumvented the implied requirement to enter a country only with the consent of the government by recognizing the destabilizing potential of widespread famine and continued civil war in Somalia as a threat to international peace.34 The reticence by some members of the Security Council to intervene in the domestic politics of a state (even a "failed state") without a formal request from political representatives was conveniently overcome through the "creation" and use of what James Jonah calls a "legal fiction":35 a Somali request for UN intervention arrived "in the form of a letter from the Somali charge d'affaires in New York who, in reality, represented no one."36
The idea of a large-scale armed humanitarian operation stood in contrast to the approach being pursued by the UN Secretary General's Special Representative to Somalia, Mohamed Sahnoun, a seasoned Algerian diplomat appointed by the Secretary General in April 1992. The Secretary General's top-down interventionist strategy was coincident with Washington's desired option.37 Indeed, it would not have been a feasible option without Washington's full support. However, it did not fit with Sahnoun's approach which sought political settlement and national reconciliation in Somalia through existing social and political structures, such as elder-based authority systems, rather than rule by gun. In Northern Somalia, Sahnoun negotiated an agreement with the administration of the self-declared "Republic of Somaliland," which would have introduced 350 UN soldiers into the region to ensure that supply routes to northeast and central Somalia remained open for food aid. In return, the UN committed itself to repair local infrastructure in the region.38 Sahnoun favored a gradual approach that worked within the existing social and political structures in order to modify those very same structures. Yet, Boutros-Ghali's insistence that Somaliland be treated as part of Somalia undercut an incremental, regionally based, approach to conflict settlement.
This difference in approach led to the resignation of Sahnoun, and the appointment of a new Special Representative, Ismat Kittani, who was able to assess the Somalia situation in a way compatible with the Secretary General's desired option. Thus, in November 1992 Kittani wrote a letter to the Secretary General requesting international intervention. It was this letter that Boutros- Ghali took to President Bush. The Sahnoun-Boutros-Ghali disagreement is indicative of tensions within the UN, and more importantly, of competing approaches to the settlement of violent conflict, the delivery of humanitarian assistance, and longer term development strategies. Not surprisingly, Sahnoun's assessment of the situation echoed that of many NGOs and Somalis: "the perception that the role of the UN presence has shifted from a humanitarian one to that of an 'occupying force' is widespread among Somalis."39
The support for the intervention option displaced the arguments of those favoring a UN-sponsored bottom-up option. The debate which did not occur at that time should be placed centrally in the discussions currently taking place concerning humanitarian interventions. Is the international community willing to make a long-term commitment to support the gradual evolution of peace in countries like Somalia, or is it tied to the short-term, low risk, high profile interventions? Or do alternatives exist somewhere in the middle ground, such as augmented support for non-governmental organizations.
The UNITAF troops were largely successful in meeting their primary military task: the opening of supply routes for the delivery of humanitarian aid. Yet, there was considerable disgruntlement over the American refusal to disarm Somali militias, despite the Secretary General's insistence that this task was central to the UNITAF mandate, and a prerequisite to handing the operation back to the UN. The American definition of "security" was more narrow than the Secretary General's, and applied to only 40 percent of Somali territory.40
In the transition from UNITAF to UNOSOM II, there were significant changes. UNOSOM II was the largest and most expensive UN-controlled peacekeeping operation in history. It was made up of more than 33,000 troops from over twenty countries. Its first year cost of operation was expected to reach US $1.5 billion. Most importantly, there were significant changes in mandate. Whereas UNITAF was directed by the American military under the auspices of the UN, UNOSOM II was the first enforcement operation to be directly under the control of the Secretary General. It was the first UN peacekeeping operation to be given a mandate to employ force in the pursuit of UN objectives. It stood in stark contrast to the traditional peacekeeping model in which force was sanctioned only in self-defence. Resolution 837 of 6 June 1993, reaffirmed UNOSOM II's mandate to "use all necessary means to implement agreements reached, and to arrest, detain, try, and punish those who attempt to frustrate the UN mission." This expanded mandate led inevitably to direct and assertive confrontations with Somali factions, the results of which were reported in the media usually more widely when there were casualties among UN troops.41 Between 5 June and 5 September 1993, 46 UN troops were killed along with over 300 Somali children, women, and men.
The American dominance of both the UNITAF and UNOSOM II missions drew criticism from countries like Italy which felt that it deserved a more prominent role in the UN operations because of its past colonial connections in the Horn of Africa.42 The Organization of African Unity expressed similar misgivings concerning UN military command, in particular the tactics and interpretation of the peacekeeping mandate. The situation in Somalia at the time of UNOSOM II's takeover from UNITAF in May 1993 was one in which "humanitarian assistance was reaching those who needed it, but serious security problems remained because of the availability of large quantities of arms, the lack of state structures, and chronic power struggles."43
Not surprisingly, there has been much criticism from a number of camps, most vociferously but certainly not exclusively from Somalis and members of the NGO community who argue that the Secretary General had increasingly privileged military and security objectives at the expense of all other objectives.44 In July 1993, 20 relief NGOs pleaded with the UN to put more resources into the delivery of food and other humanitarian aid. This was triggered by the rotting of 725 tonnes of food aid at the port because of the lack of military escort outside of Mogadishu.45 Jan Eliasson, the UN Under Secretary General for Humanitarian Affairs in July 1993, observed that the international community "was spending ten dollars on military protection for every dollar of humanitarian assistance," and that "unless sufficient funds are provided for rehabilitation activities, there is a risk that the military operation can be perceived as an end in itself."46 The same point was made by Mohamed Sahnoun who argued that peacekeeping costs in Somalia "dwarfed" humanitarian aid costs. By his estimation, it cost $2 billion in peacekeeping to deliver $50 million of humanitarian assistance.47
A mission for peace is weakened when the scope of its activities is narrowed. If a mission becomes so deeply embroiled in the security or military dimensions of a conflict that it is unable to pursue activities in the political or socio-economic arenas, it ceases to be a mission for peace at all. While the relative emphasis on the individual components which make up a mission will depend on the nature of the conflict, there needs to be a balance among mission activities. In Somalia, the prominence of the military objectives of the American-dominated UNITAF and UNOSOM II missions have been criticized for overshadowing their broader objectives. The skewed allocation of resources reflected the imbalance of the mission.
The emphasis on the military security dimensions of a conflict, whether real or perceived, inevitably evokes accusations of bias, particularly from local communities. Thus, in the Somalia case, some commentators suggest that "the international community has become an instrument of United States foreign policy, [and that] the language of the Security Council has become so bellicose that it makes the UN appear not as an instrument of peace but rather a tool of militarism."48 Accusations of bias, however, are not only directed toward foreign military actors in Somalia. Some have argued that the tragedy in Somalia has led to "philanthropic imperialism," whereby relief agencies wield extraordinary power in war-ravaged Third World countries where the authority of governments has disintegrated.49 As conflict continues, international commitment wanes, and initial supporters like the United States, Italy and France have disentangled themselves from the conflict.
In general, there has been a tendency to focus rather myopically on the peacekeeping components of missions for peace. With this tendency comes a danger that peacekeeping may be confused with, or substituted for, the other two processes. However, peacekeeping, in the absence of peacemaking and peacebuilding, succeeds only in imposing an "armed peace;" and the removal of peacekeeping troops invites a return to the status quo ante. Thus, while peacekeeping may contribute to the management of the conflict (by inhibiting overt violence), it does not, on its own, facilitate resolution. Indeed, peacekeeping may inhibit parties from moving toward peaceful accommodation by isolating the two communities, freezing an unsettled status quo, and rigidifying the boundaries between groups.50 If "all peacebuilding strategies involve greater inter-party contact,"51 then peacekeeping inhibits peacebuilding to the extent that it inhibits inter-party contact. Peacekeeping and peacebuilding are antithetical processes applied to different groups in a conflict. As Ryan points out: "whereas peacekeeping is about building barriers between the warriors, peacebuilding tries to build bridges between the ordinary people."52
In the Somalia case, the "peacekeeping" mission was transformed into a "peace enforcement" mission new and uncharted territory for the United Nations. The more cut-and-dry implications of traditional peacekeeping operations are less clear in this new form of activity. In the Somalia case, it appears to have facilitated the short-term humanitarian objectives of the mission (the delivery of food and humanitarian aid), but hindered the longer term political, economic and social objectives.
One of the reasons that the initial mission for peace in Somalia was transformed into an armed humanitarian intervention was the mistaken belief that a military solution could be applied to both military and non-military problems. Military analysts believed that Somalia was "beautifully set up for a military operation. Someone had conveniently put the capital on the Indian Ocean, so you could do an amphibious operation. You could secure the capital and expand out. You had good fields of vision soldiers like to see as far as they possibly can. Security was relatively easy. And so the world said, 'Let's do something in Somalia'."53 The fatal flaw with this logic is that it conceives of the Somalia crisis in strictly military terms. However, the military dimension is but one dimension of the conflict. A "solution" that considers only the violent manifestations of conflict, is doomed to fail because it neglects the social, economic and political dimensions that buttress and sustain such violence. In future deliberations on whether and how to participate in a large-scale mission for peace, we will need to fit each of these pieces into a common understanding of the nature of the conflict and, relatedly, the nature of an appropriate collective response.
The military-backed humanitarian operation in Somalia received crucial impetus from the Bush adminstration in Washington. With an American election in the air, Somalia was seen as a convenient way of winning some votes from the American public. The American planners expected to jump into Somalia, "stabilize the military situation," and hand the matter back to the United Nations within three to four months.54 The Somalia case points out the tension between short-term political needs and the longer-term requirements for peace and development. There is an increasingly conspicuous dissonance between the short cycles of electoral politics in donor countries and the longer time frame needed for missions for peace to show results. Because building peace is typically slow and low key, it does not fit well into the short-term domestic political agendas of politicians in the North. The prospects for peace are reduced to the extent that donor politicians privilege short-term domestic political needs over the necessary longer term time frame. Short-term humanitarian relief programs at the expense of longer term development programs may succeed only in meeting the domestic political requirements of politicians in the North while conveniently generating many more opportunities for high-profile interventions, since the fundamental structures of underdevelopment and conflict will be untouched.
LEARNING THE RIGHT LESSONS AND BUILDING ON HIDDEN SUCCESSES
The assessments of international intervention tend to focus on state actors and the military aspects of the operation. However, it is important to also recognize, and learn from, some of the non-military initiatives undertaken by non-state actors during the same time. Future initiatives must better integrate military and non-military dimensions of intervention if the chances of success are to be increased. The following discussion presents a number of suggestions intended to facilitate this process.
NGOs in the Peacebuilding Process
NGOs are essential actors in missions for peace. Not only are they intimately familiar with the social, political and economic context within which peacebuilding must be undertaken, they possess a wealth of hands-on, local-level expertise in activities that may be applied to the peacebuilding process (e.g., infrastructural development, education, cooperative and cooperation projects). As importantly, NGOs are located in the interstice between societal and state actors and therefore occupy a strategically important position in conflict situations. As Francisco Solis and Pauline Martin point out in the case of El Salvador, "the presence of NGOs in the polarized context of civil war established a kind of mediation between the unsatisfied needs of the population and the social and economic policies of successive governments."55
It is important to recognize the peacebuilding contributions of NGOs and projects which are not conventionally viewed as being "peace-related." These are NGOs that often find themselves quite literally on the front lines of violent conflict with projects in agriculture, irrigation, health, education, urban poverty alleviation, and so on. Realistically, NGO activities alone cannot resolve the protracted social conflicts that are so prevalent in the world today. However, they possess the under-appreciated potential to significantly contribute to conflict management and resolution in those areas in which they have direct experience. Furthermore, their activities have the potential to exacerbate tensions and inhibit conflict management.56 The capacity of NGOs to influence events must be carefully evaluated since it may vary considerably from case to case. In light of the need for monitoring, early warning, and informed debate on issues surrounding involvement in peace initiatives (both missions for peace as well as smaller-scale initiatives), NGOs might also play an important contributing role. Clearly, such a role would be undertaken only if: it did not jeopardize their ability to carry out their primary development function (e.g., if it appeared to politicize their organization and activities); and the resources were made available to do so (i.e., so that they would not need to re-direct existing resources and weaken current activities).
Support for Indigenous Peace Efforts
In Somalia, a disjuncture has developed between legitimacy, authority and power. The power of the gun has consolidated the coercive authority of warlords, and displaced more traditional and legitimate forms based on discussion and compromise. However, warlordism has not erased traditional forms of social and political relations. Two noteworthy initiatives provide useful examples of how external actors may encourage a process that pushes gun-based power to the margins by recentring traditional sources of social relations. The encouragement of these types of initiatives within the context of a multifaceted mission for peace would help to integrate bottom up and bottom down peace processes
The first initiative was nurtured by the Mennonite Central Committee Canada: the Borama and Sanaag elders' conferences.57 These meetings in early 1993 brought together hundreds of Somali elders and thousands of advisors for a period of almost five months. This was a national conference that was the culmination of a series of multilateral conferences at the regional level, which were themselves the culmination of a series of bilateral peace conferences. After this period of extended discussion, they arrived at a consensus on how to govern Somaliland and how to resolve inter-clan conflict in that region. Specifically, the conference adopted a countrywide security framework, laid down a national constitutional structure, and enabled a peaceful change in government.58 While this marks the beginning of a solution, rather than a solution per se, it is most notable for its support of an indigenous Somali peace effort, and its willingness to use indigenous methods of conflict management. The second initiative was the process leading up to the signing of the Hiraab Treaty in January 1994, an eight-point peace agreement reached by 310 delegates from five Hawiye clans. The fact that this was a direct treaty between the respective clans rather than their politicians and military leaders has been seen as being very significant for other peace efforts. If the treaty holds, it would serve to demonstrate the peace-making significance of the Somali indigenous social system.
The Mennonite Central Committee Canada is clear that these types of approaches require that members of the international community possess: a long-term commitment to nurturing indigenous conflict management structures and processes; a "thorough understanding of, and sensitivity to, cultural factors relevant to conflict resolution;" and a willingness to build "a relationship of trust between [internal/ indigenous] partners, based on significant and long-term involvement in the country." The building of the political space within which indigenous groups can work out their own solutions to their own problems is not a quick or easy process. However, if "solutions" are to be "sustainable," this may ultimately be the crucial ingredient to a successful mission for peace.
This type of innovative, bottom-up, conflict resolution strategy need not indeed should not be taken in isolation from other efforts at other levels involving other actors. In other words, a multi-track approach is likely the most productive course of action. However, a multi-track approach may entail coordination problems and the danger that parallel efforts may "jump track," and stymie the overall mission for peace. These problems may be reduced to the extent that may be anticipated in advance.
Early Action and Prevention
The international community is still driven by a reactive, rather than preventative, logic. There is a need to put equal emphasis onto preventative activities. If the fundamental sources of conflict and underdevelopment lie within a country's internal political, economic and social structures then development assistance should contribute to changing those structures. This requires extremely delicate political balancing. For example, some have argued that the cutting of ODA to repressive regimes is an effective means of affecting change. Others, such as Mahbub Huq, special advisor to the UNDP, argue that aid embargoes on countries with poor human rights records succeeds only in hurting the people most in need. Instead, Huq suggests that governments could improve human rights in developing countries by making their aid conditional on cuts in military budgets.59 A middle path, suggested by the South Africa case, would be the targeting and channelling of aid through local NGOs. However, with this strategy comes the danger of overtly politicizing NGO activity and increasing the risk to NGO workers and their work.
If preventive action is to be effective, there is a need to nurture and develop an on-going program both to monitor conflict potential and to reinforce peace-building capacities in a range of countries and regions around the world. At the moment, the institutions and individuals with the ability to engage in this type of activity tend to work in isolation from one another, and, more often than not, this expertise has not been effectively incorporated into the policy decision-making process. However, this may be changing slowly as reflected in the historic briefing session in February 1997 on the Great Lakes region in which for the first time NGOs (CARE USA, OXFAM-UK, and Medicins Sans Frontiers) presented their ideas and assessments directly to the UN Security Council. As NGOs have become increasingly important in the formulation and implementation of policy, international organizations and the state actors of which they are composed, have come both to see collaboration as being in their interests, and to rely increasingly on NGOs for their ideas, technical understanding and practical experience. Nonetheless, as numerous observers of the Somalia tragedy have argued, the reticence of international actors to respond to the early indications by NGOs of looming catastrophe resulted in a far larger, and more costly, undertaking than would have been necessary had reaction been quicker. The genocide in Rwanda reflects the same international failure to respond to clear and unambiguous signals.60 The standard call for the need to connect early warning to early action is as obvious as it is neglected.
Coordination and Integration
The international community is slowly learning the right lessons from its experiences in both Somalia and Rwanda, in particular the recognition of the need for close cooperation among the various strands of international activity in a humanitarian crisis. The Steering Group for the Multinational Force for Zaire in late 1996 attempted to incorporate these lessons in the development of its mission.61 As originally conceived, the Steering Group had a mandate not only to provide direction to the military component of the mission, but also to ensure coordination of humanitarian, peace-building, reconstruction and political activities in the region, and to liaise with the UN Special Representative, and the Humanitarian Coordinator. Similarly, the Force Commander put in place a small liaison team to advise him on the "civilian" side of the operation, a team comprised of a political, a humanitarian, and a legal and human rights advisor. However, events in that conflict derailed the full deployment of the Multinational Force, and these arrangements were never put to the test. It is this type of innovation that deserves further attention as we wrestle with the humanitarian challenges that confront us today.
The post-Cold War world is not as new or novel as it was in the years immediately following the dissolution of the Soviet Union. There is an accumulating body of international experience in conflicts around the world as international actors have attempted to support and strengthen the making, building, and keeping of peace. There have been successes as well as failures, and there is hope as well as frustration. While each conflict is unique, each also possesses generalizable lessons that may be applied beyond its particularities. The task of learning, and in some cases relearning, from our experience requires us to critically examine our successes as well as failures. We need to ask not only, what lessons have we learned from cases like Somalia and Mozambique, but what lessons should we learn from them. As we attempt to draw lessons from recent experiences, we should recognize that the costs of this learning process is borne overwhelmingly by the children, women, and men in war-torn societies.
Kenneth D. Bush is an Adjunct Assistant Professor of Political Studies at Queen's University, and 1996-97 Cadieux Fellow at the Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade.
Endnotes
1. James Jonah, "Humanitarian Intervention," in Thomas Weiss and Larry Minear, eds.,
Humanitarianism Across Borders: Sustaining Civilians in Times of
War (Boulder, CO and London: Lynne Rienner, 1993), p. 75; Mark R. Hutchinson, "Restoring Hope: UN Security
Council Resolutions for Somalia and an Expanded Doctrine of Humanitarian Intervention,"
Harvard International Law Journal, 34 (Spring 1993), pp. 624-40.
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2. Kenneth D. Bush, "Beyond Bungee Cord Humanitarianism: Towards a
Developmental Agenda for Peacebuilding,"
Canadian Journal of Development Studies, 17 (December 1996), pp.
75-92.
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3. This concept was introduced in a series of workshops sponsored by the Parliamentary
Centre for Foreign Affairs and Foreign Trade in 1993 and 1994.
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4. Mohamed Sahnoun, the former UN Secretary General's Special Representative to Somalia,
has argued forcefully that the international community missed the opportunity to undertake
effective preventive measures, both political and humanitarian, that would have saved the lives of
hundreds of thousands of people and avoided a tragedy that will scar generations of Somalis.
See his Somalia: Missed Opportunities (Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace, 1994).
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5. Edward E. Azar "Protracted Social Conflicts: Ten Propositions," in Azar and John W.
Burton, eds., International Conflict Resolution: Theory and
Practice (Sussex, UK: Wheatsheaf, 1986) pp. 30-31.
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6. These are precisely the spaces which are created by, and catalyze, the activities of a variety
of community groups in conflict situations around the world, including citizens' committees,
such as the Batticaloa Peace Committee in Sri Lanka; "mothers" groups campaigning for the
end of disappearances, such as the Mothers of Acari in Brazil; inter-communal "peace and
reconciliation groups," such as PACE, Corrymeela, the Cornerstone Community, and the Peace
People in Northern Ireland; and many others.
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7. This paper adopts David Korten's structural and operational definition of an NGO; that is,
an NGO is an organization which possesses the following characteristics: (1)
formal existence the organization is institutionalized to some extent; it is formalized in terms of regular
meetings, office bearers, and some degree of organizational permanence; (2)
private status the organization is institutionally separate from government, although it may receive some
government support; (3) non-profit distributing modis
operandi while the organization may generate
a financial surplus, this does not accrue to the owners or directors; (4)
self-governing able and equipped to control and manage its own activities; and (5)
voluntary character there is some meaningful degree of voluntary participation in the conduct or management of the
organizations. "This does not mean that all or most of the income of an organization must come from
voluntary contributions or that most of its staff must be volunteers." The term "NGO" is
employed throughout this paper despite its rather generic quality. Specificity is added where
required, for example, Northern/ Southern NGOs, development/relief NGOs, church-based NGOs,
and human rights/peace NGOs.
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8. Mary B. Anderson, Do No Harm: Supporting Local Capacities Through
Aid (Cambridge, MA: Local Capacities for Peace Project, The Collaborative for Development Action, 1996).
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9. Clearly, "peacekeeping" operations have increasingly employed civilians in their activities.
However, this does not challenge the understanding that peacekeeping is best undertaken
by military personnel. Rather, it raises the question of whether the "changing nature of
peacekeeping operations" is pushing peacekeepers away from "peacekeeping" and into activities for
which they may not be suited to undertake, or into activities that are better undertaken by other
types of actors. See Kenneth D. Bush, "Towards A Balanced Approach to Rebuilding
War-Torn Societies," Canadian Foreign
Policy, 3, no. 3 (Winter 1995), pp. 49-69.
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10. Samuel Makinda, Seeking Peace from Chaos: Humanitarian Intervention in
Somalia (Boulder, CO and London: Lynne Rienner, 1993), p. 29.
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11. The Somali Republic came into being as a result of the merger of the British
Somaliland protectorate and the Italian Trusteeship Territory of Somalia.
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12. For example, Barre's son-in-law was variously the head of the National Security
Services, Interior Minister and Assistant Secretary General of the ruling party.
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13. According to World Bank figures for Somalia, the GNP per capita was US $80 in 1970,
US $150 in 1976, and only US $120 in 1990. The same pattern of economic stagnation is
evident in those African countries defined by the World Bank as low-income nations. Among this
group, the average GNP per capita dropped from US $490 to US $260 (a loss of 40 percent)
between 1980 and 1990. Robert Weil, "Somalia in Perspective,"
Review of African Economy, no. 57 (1993), p. 106. Makinda accurately describes Somalia's economic predicament: "there has
been so much disruption that it is possible to describe Somalia's economy only in terms of the
past and its potential. Its present is represented by disorders and uncertainties." Makinda,
Seeking Peace from Chaos, p. 45.
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14. Ibid., p. 57.
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15. The militarization of rule remained conspicuous even when Barre attempted to apply a
civilian political veneer to his regime. For example, in 1981, 68 of the 85 new district and
regional party secretaries were from either the military or police. Ibid., p. 23.
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16. In April 1978, a failed coup was launched against Barre by a sub-clan which had been
excluded from central power.
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17. Ibid., p. 24.
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18. Africa Watch Committee,
Somalia: A Government at War with its own
People (New York: Africa Watch Committee, 1990).
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19. Canadian Institute for International Peace and Security,
Guide to Canadian Policies on Arms Control, Disarmament, Defence and Conflict
Resolution (Ottawa: Canadian Institute for
International Peace and Security, 1990).
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20. At the time, the leaders of the main armed factions in Somalia were: (1) the late
Muhammad Farrah Aideed, the major warlord of the Hawiye clan, who controlled most of the territory
in southern Somalia as well as southern Mogadishu. In late 1990, his forces invaded Somalia
from their base in Ethiopia, helping to push Barre from power. (2) Ali Mahdi Muhammed, also
a member of the Hiwaye clan, who declared himself interim president of Somalia and
currently controls northern Mogadishu and a narrow strip of land running north from the city. (3)
Muhammad Said Hersi Morgan, the son-in-law of Barre and member of the Darod clan,
who controls the city of Bardera (or Baardheere) located in the centre of the famine region. (4)
Colonel Omar Jess, also a member of the Darod clan, who controls the strategic port of
Kismayu in southern Somalia. And, finally (5) General Muhammad Abshir Musa, leader of the
Somali Democratic Front, one of the first organizations to oppose Barre. Musa controls an area in
north-eastern Somalia. For further details on the factional leaders, see the Economist, "Who's
Who?" 23 January 1993, p. 41. For a discussion of the intricacies of clan groups and inter-clan
politics, see Makinda, Seeking Peace from
Chaos, pp. 17-28.
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21. Quoted in Nancy Gordon, "Beyond Peacekeeping: Somalia, the United Nations and the
Canadian Experience," in Maureen Appel Molot and Harald von Riekhoff, eds.,
Canada Among Nations 1994: A Part of the
Peace (Ottawa: Carleton University Press, 1994), pp. 286-87.
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22. J. Kunder, "Somalia Civil Strife,"
Situation Report No. 7, Office of US Foreign
Disaster Assistance, Agency for International Development, 30 January 1992, p. 3.
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23. Cited in Jennifer Leaning "When the System Doesn't Work: Somalia 1992," in Kevin M.
Cahill, ed., A Framework for Survival: Health, Human Rights, and Humanitarian Assistance in
Conflicts and Disasters (New York: Basic Books and the Council on Foreign Relations, 1993),
p. 114.
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24. Ibid., p. 109.
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25. Ibid., p. 107.
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26. In the Canadian context for example, the rank of Somalia among African countries
receiving Canadian exports was: in 1985, 33rd of 35 ($148,000); in 1986, 29th of 35 ($1,817,000);
in 1987, 30th of 35 ($825,000); and in 1988, 30th of 35 ($490,000). Government of
Canada, Department of External Affairs and International Trade,
1988-89 Annual Report, (Ottawa), Table 12, p. 54.
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27. Mohamed Sahnoun is especially appreciative of the media for its role in attracting
international attention, and rallying international resources. See Sahnoun
Somalia: Missed Opportunities, p. viii.
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28. I do not wish to down play the humanitarian aspect of governmental responses. However,
the fact remains there are other humanitarian crises of equal or greater levels of devastation
that do not attract equivalent attention. Humanitarianism alone does not prompt government actions.
Implicit and explicit cost-benefit calculations factor in such considerations as perceived or
actual changes in levels of domestic political support, possibilities to achieve political gains or
avoid political losses, and tap new sources of political capital.
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29. Similar criticisms have been made concerning UN operations in the former Yugoslavia by
retired Major General Lewis MacKenzie, former commander of UN forces in Sarajevo. See,
for example, "Tough Love for the UN: Peacekeeping needs Overhaul,"
Whig Standard, 5 October 1993.
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30. New York Times, 7 September 1992, p. A3.
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31. For a thorough discussion of the reinterpretations of the UN Charter and the legal
dimensions and implications of UN Operations in Somalia, see Hutchinson, "Restoring Hope."
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32. Jonah, "Humanitarian Intervention," in Weiss and Minear, eds.,
Humanitarianism Across Borders, pp. 69-84.
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33. In fact, a precedent had already been set in the Spring of 1991, when an international
force within the structure of NATO intervened in northern Iraq to protect 4,000 to 5,000 Kurds
from attack by the military forces of Saddam Hussein. Troops were drawn from the US, the
United Kingdom, France, Italy, the Netherlands and Spain. See John Mackinlay, "Armed Relief,"
in Weiss and Minear, eds., Humanitarianism Across
Borders pp. 85-96.
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34. The resolution alluded to violations by citing:
continuing reports of widespread violation of international humanitarian law occurring in Somalia, including violence and threats of violence against personnel participating lawfully in impartial humanitarian relief activities; deliberate attacks on non-combatants, relief consignments and vehicles, and medical and relief facilities; and impeding the delivery of food and medical supplies essential for the survival of the civilian population.
Cited in Hutchinson, "Restoring Hope," p. 632.
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35. Jonah, "Humanitarian Intervention," p. 72
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36. Ibid. See also United Nations document S/23445/ 20 February 1992.
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37. Ibid., p. 77.
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38. Makinda, Seeking Peace from
Chaos, p. 38.
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39. Ottawa Citizen, 15 August 1993.
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40. Makinda, Seeking Peace from
Chaos, p. 185; and John R. Bolton, "Wrong Turn in
Somalia," Foreign Affairs, 73, no. 1 (January/ February 1994), pp. 56-66. In late 1994, there was a
striking parallel between the refusal of the American military to disarm warriors in Somalia, and
its reticence in Haiti to disarm police and soldiers loyal to the junta of Lieutenant-General
Raoul Cedras. Thus, as American troops disembarked from their warships they were met with
the spectacle of pro-American Haitians being savagely beaten by Haitian police. The US
military had not articulated its "rules of engagement" for dealing with what has been labelled
"Haitian-on-Haitian violence." See The Globe and
Mail, 21 September 1994, pp. A1, A10.
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41. For a discussion of North-South divisions between UN peacekeepers, see Gwynne Dyer,
"Third World Troops Take the Casualties while West Stands Back,"
Gazette (Montreal), 18 June 1993.
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42. The American dominance is partly related to the fact that it had initially provided the
largest contingent of troops for the peacekeeping component of the operation, including a
significant logistical element. Americans were central in the top levels of the operations. While the
first UNOSOM II commander was from Turkey, he was nominated by the United States; his
deputy was an American major general who, coincidentally, was also tactical commander of the
1,700 member American Rapid Deployment Unit the unit which carried out the well-publicized
and unsuccessful raids to capture Somali "warlord" Mohamed Aideed; the UN Secretary
General Special Representative in 1993 was also an American, who happened to have been a
retired admiral.
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43. Makinda, Seeking Peace From
Chaos, p. 185.
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44. This was amplified for both the UN development community and NGOs in Somalia in
September 1993 when 50 "crack U.S. Ranger troops" in search of General Aideed stormed a
UN compound in Mogadishu and manhandled UN staff and looted the premises of a United
Nations Development Program office. Toronto
Star, 1 and 5 September 1993.
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45. "Food Rots as UN Troops focus on military action,"
Globe and Mail, 12 July 1993.
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46. This statement is from an address to the UN Economic and Social Council, 21 July 1993.
Quoted in Makinda, Seeking Peace from
Chaos, p. 185.
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47. Mohamed Sahnoun, Presentation to the International Development Research Centre
(IDRC) Development Forum, "Peacekeeping, Peacemaking and Aid," Ottawa, 6 April 1994.
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48. Zaubab Jana, "African NGOs: Halt Military Operations in Somalia,"
Third World Resurgence, 36 (1993), p. 29.
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49. Alex de Waal and Rakiya Omaar "Doing Harm by Doing Good? The International Relief
Effort in Somalia," Current History, 92 (1993), pp. 198-202.
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50. One theoretical position (with which I am uncomfortable) that would sustain this argument
is developed by William Zartman. He asserts that a conflict is "ripe for resolution" when it
reaches a "hurting stalemate" a flare up in hostilities followed by a "grinding crisis" and
deadlock in which neither side is able to achieve its aims unilaterally, no possibility of escalating
or 'winning' exists, and both sides realize the unacceptable costs of being locked in a violent
dead end. Thus, the intervention of peacekeepers may effectively subsidize the level of violence
and thereby perpetuate the conflict by not allowing it to get worse so that it can get better.
One may take quite a different (and morally less questionable) tack and argue that the
imposition of peacekeepers and subsequent limiting of constructive contact between groups may also
inhibit the 'ripening' process. I. William Zartman,
Ripe For Resolution (Oxford, UK: Oxford
University Press, 1985).
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51. Ryan, Ethnic Conflict and International
Relations, p. 61
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52. Ibid., p. 61.
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53. Lewis MacKenzie, Presentation to the International Development Research Centre
(IDRC) Development Forum, "Peacekeeping, Peacemaking and Aid," Ottawa, 6 April 1994.
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54. Bolton, "Wrong Turn in Somalia," p. 58.
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55. Francisco Alvarez Solis and Pauline Martin, "The Role of Salvadorean NGOs in
Post-War Reconstruction," Development in
Practice, 2 (June 1992), p. 104.
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56. For example, see David Gillies, "Principled Intervention: Canadian Aid, Human Rights and
the Sri Lankan Conflict," in Robert Miller, ed.,
Aid as Peacemaker: Canadian Development Assistance and Third World Conflict
(Ottawa: Carleton University Press, 1992). pp. 33-50.
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57. I use the term "nurtured" because, although the MCCC and other external NGOs helped
to finance the conference (for a total cost of US $100,000), they did not play a direct role in
the deliberations. Mennonite Central Committee Canada, "Submission of MCCC to the
CCIC Foreign Policy Review: A Framework for Our Common Future," by Chris Derksen Hiebert and
Joanne Epp, MCC Ottawa, (November 1993). See also Rakiya Omaar, "Somaliland: One
Thorn at a Time," Current History, (May 1994).
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58. Omar, "One Thorn at a Time."
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59. John Stackhouse, "Linkage of Aid to Rights found Useless,"
Globe and Mail, 5 January 1993, p. A7.
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60. For full details, see the Joint Evaluation of Emergency Assistance to Rwanda,
The International Response to Conflict and Genocide: Lessons From the Rwanda
Experience (Copenhagen, March 1996). For detailed discussion of information and early warning, see "Study 2: Early
Warning and Conflict Management," by Howard Adelman and Astri Suhrke (with Bruce Jones).
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61. I am indebted to Kerry Buck (Canadian Department of Foreign Affairs and International
Trade) for sharing insights gleaned through her participation in this process.
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