Author Archives: Kristin B. Sandvik

Mali: Humanitarian Challenges and Fragile Security, What Role for the UN?

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Despite heavy August rain, Gunhilde Utsogn (Special Assistant to the UN Resident and Humanitarian Coordinator, Mali) and John Karlsrud’s (NUPI) discussion on the humanitarian challenges facing Mail drew a large audience of academics, NGO workers, representatives from international organizations, embassies and the Norwegian armed forces to PRIO. Co-hosted by PRIO and NCHS, the seminar aimed to take stock of current developments in Mali and their ramifications for humanitarian action, as the war-torn country holds elections and welcomes the UN MINUSMA peacekeeping mission.

The events occurring in Mali are often presented as a fall-out from the Libya conflict: Northern Malians, who had for decades resided in Libya, returned to Mali well-trained and well-armed after the fall of Qadhafi. Northern Mali has a long history of Tuareg-rebellion against the Southern elite located in the capital Bamako, and has over the years seen a smuggler economy develop in the region, as it serves as a transit route for drug trafficking from South America to Europe as well as for weapons trafficking. Frustrated by the presidents’ handling of the rebellion, and by the rebels’ easy defeat of the Malian army; a faction of young officers seized power in a coup in March 2012. The Tuaregs took over control over the North of Mali in the power vacuum that followed, only to lose this control to the well-armed Islamists shortly after. The transitional president subsequently invited France to come to the rescue. In January 2013, French troops intervened militarily to stop the advance of the Islamists, following their capture of key towns in the North. Yet despite the military successes of the French troops breaking the Islamists’ control of this part of the country, the security situation remains volatile. In April, the UN Security Council agreed to send troops to take over from the French and African forces. This peacekeeping force, to which Norway has committed to contribute, began arriving last month. Meanwhile, an accord was signed between the Malian government and the Tuareg rebellion at the end of June in Ouagadougou. Despite some irregularities, the first round of presidential elections on July 28 saw a record turn-out of voters and the second round was conducted successfully on 11 August, leading to the victory of Ibrahim Boubacar Keita.

However, the humanitarian situation in the region remains highly precarious. For many observers, the challenge in Mali is not so much an emergency as a development crisis, where long term strategies are needed. Even before the 2012-events, food insecurity was chronic, with hundreds of thousands of malnourished children. The rainy season frequently brings cholera outbreaks. Yet, the conflict has undoubtedly exacerbated the problems: 800,000 children have already missed a school year. Despite the generosity of neighboring countries in opening their borders, the high number of Malian refugees in the region and the displaced population inside the country makes the situation even more fragile.

The key issue emerging from the debate between the speakers and the audience is whether the current UN mission, with its ambitious but highly aggressive mandate, is what Mali needs?

MINUSMA will be a fairly standard large multidimensional peacekeeping mission, with about 11200 troops, 1440 police and probably more than 1000 international and national civilian staff. The mandate authorizes MINUSMA to stabilize key population centers and to “deter threats and take active steps to prevent the return of armed elements to those areas”. It should also create a secure environment and secure the main roads. The French troops in Serval will operate alongside MINUSMA “to intervene in support of elements of MINUSMA”. MINUSMA is also given a broad range of substantive tasks including security sector reform, demobilization and reintegration of armed rebels, including children, good offices, supporting an inclusive dialogue, and supporting the presidential and legislative elections.

Although the mandate is fairly aggressive if one reads between the lines, it is not as explicit as the mandate that recently was given to MONUSCO in the Democratic Republic of Congo. However, the trend of increasingly assertive mandates given to peace operations, effectively turning these operations into peace enforcement operations is worrying. None of the traditional principles for UN peacekeeping will in effect apply – including consent of all the parties, the non-use of force and impartiality. MINUSMA is also tasked with supporting the new government in re-establishing or extending state authority and few if any will be in doubt about the fact that the mission will be partial. The human rights record of the national army is weak at best, and although the mandate includes a task in training the national army, human rights violations can be expected to continue, in turn also tainting MINUSMA.

It is also paradoxes that while the mandates for UN peacekeeping operations are becoming increasingly aggressive; the tolerance for losses of UN troops is going down. Since the bombings of the UN HQ in Baghdad in 2003, in Algeria in 2007, and other more recent attacks in Nigeria, Afghanistan and South Sudan, the UN has been criticized for its ‘bunkerisation’ – imposing increasingly strict security measures that in effect closes the UN off from contact with the local population. This is especially the case for the UN’s humanitarian agencies but also its civilian peacekeepers. Although the UN argues that this is not the case so far in Mali, only one successful terrorist attack can and will change this situation overnight. The increasing likelihood of “terrorist” attacks against aggressive UN peace “enforcement”, also means that attacks against other UN agencies operating in the same volatile area, or humanitarians for that matter, may increase.

Internally, the aggressive mandate of MINUSMA also deepens the schisms between the military, political and development components of the UN on the one hand, and the humanitarians on the other. From the humanitarian perspective, there is considerable concern that the peacekeeping mission will infringe on the humanitarian space (humanitarian agencies to operate safely and effectively on the ground) and compromise humanitarian principles of neutrality, impartiality and universality, understood by humanitarians themselves as preconditions for gaining access to civilians in war-torn areas. UN humanitarian actors may soon find themselves imposed with escorts due to a tightening of security rules and the mandate to secure roads in the North. In what is still effectively a war zone, the different parts of the UN may very quickly come at odds with each other.

These concerns are well-known from debates on the costs of stabilization missions in Iraq and Afghanistan. Over the last two decades, peacebuilding and stabilization programs have incorporated humanitarian aspects into their mandates, contributing to serious problems in the field for humanitarian actors.

Over the last decade a division of labor has developed between international organizations engaged in conflict and post-conflict situations in Africa. Regional and sub-regional organizations have engaged in the sharper end of conflicts with peace enforcement missions, e.g. in Somalia, while the UN has focused on the following phase of peacekeeping. Naturally, many cases blur this distinction, but in principle this has been a mutually good division of work. However, with the recent mandates for MONUSCO in DRC and MINUSMA in Mali, a worrying trend of a more aggressive UN is emerging. To sum up the discussion, a central question is if this aggressive peacekeeping is what Mali needs and which long-term consequences for humanitarian action can be expected?

NCHS-Seminar at PRIO tackles the «good drone» and its implications for humanitarian action

With industry representatives, the media, academics and relief workers in attendance, commentators from PRIO, NUPI and UiO tackled the issue of drone use for SAR, relief drops and peacekeeping at a seminar April 22.

Kjersti Lohne (UiO) presented an inventory of ongoing and projected transfer of UAV hardware from military to humanitarian use. In her intervention, Mareile Kaufmann (PRIO) shared her experiences in undertaking an EU-funded project on Drones for Search and Rescue Operations with the Norwegian Red Cross and the Norwegian Technology Council.  Maria Gabrielsen Jumbert (PRIO) described the distributive consequences of the use of UAVs for border surveillance and humanitarian rescue at sea, with respect to EUROSUR’s proposed use of drones. John Karlsrud (NUPI) reflected on the use of drones for peacekeeping missions, sharing examples from his own experience with drones in the MINURCRAT mission in Central African Republic and Chad. Finally, Kristin Bergtora Sandvik (PRIO)   discussed the relationship between drones, Big data, data protection and humanitarian decision making. Frederik Rosén from the Danish Institute for International Studies (DIIS) chaired the discussion.

With  a proliferation of examples of  proposed benevolent uses of drones, as well as the recent decision to deploy drones to the peacekeeping mission in Eastern Congo, and a request for drones to support the mission in the Ivory Coast, the seminar was seen by panelists and audience alike as extremely timely.  However, as noted by all panelists, this development raises difficult issues with respect to data protection and privacy, as well as posing new challenges to some basic issues of responsibility and obligation under international law.

Drones are part of a larger humanitarian innovation agenda, where there is currently a lot of focus on the need for more careful guidelines on how data can be harvested and used (stored, shared, transferred, analyzed). However, so far, little attention has been given to the need to consider a specific code of conduct for the use of drones in humanitarian operations (broadly understood) or in peacekeeping.

What will it mean that organizations such as the UN or EU/FRONTEX gain access to better surveillance data? Will this automatically mean enhanced human rights protection, or will it instead lead to more focus on force protection or border protection?

In the 1990s, Alex de Waal noted that “one universal tendency stands out: technical solutions are promoted at the expense of political ones.” Participants agreed that this was still a pertinent concern- more data in no way implies action. At the same time, as disaster drones gradually become a reality on the ground (and in civil airspace); there is an urgent need to address what this will mean for humanitarian action.

PoC: Protection clusters and the formation of ambiguity- the view from Bor and beyond

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How come the policy realm of protecting civilians is increasingly being challenged on both conceptual and practical grounds, all the while efforts are being done in policy headquarters and in the field to refine its idea the implementation of it?

One such refinement seeking to alter established practices is the introduction of the protection cluster among humanitarian organisations in South Sudan in July 2010. Initially, the PoC unit of the United Nations’ Mission to Sudan (UNMIS) served as the link between the UN mission and various civilian UN and non-UN entities regarding civilian protection. The 2010 reorganisation advanced the cluster approach as a means to coordinate diverse and dispersed protection activities, with the aim to think more broadly about protection concerns drawing on interagency cooperation and coordination among the humanitarian organisations present in the area. In southern Sudan the protection cluster was to be led by UNHCR (and co-chaired with the Norwegian Refugee Council), now serving as protection lead and focal point for protection issues in the area. The cluster chair’s role is to facilitate a process aimed at ensuring coordinated and effective humanitarian response in relation to protection.

Cacophony and dissonance, however, seemed to prevail when I attended a protection meeting in Bor during my fieldwork in South Sudan’s Jonglei state in late 2010. While the distinction between the humanitarian community and the UN peacekeepers had become clearer as a result of the reorganization, the cluster approach had also brought a host of new actors into the protection folder and into the very same meeting room. The diverse and, at times, conflicting understandings of protection among the various humanitarian organizations now seeking to coordinate their efforts did not promote unity, harmony and dialogue. Rather, it seemed like all the actors involved instead used the meeting as a forum for presenting their own, distinct views and approaches to protection. In nourishing the particular and operational distinctiveness the organisations, in effect, prevented to consign to any overarching approach to or notion of protection. So, by the time everybody had presented their own work and how their organisation dealt with protection concerns, the meeting was over and people started to leave to attend to other duties.

The members of the protection cluster mainly saw it as an arena for exchanging information, without questioning each other’s diverging and sometimes conflicting notions of protection. Limited attention was paid to practical solutions, thus causing for some discontent among the participants. Although “protection” was what brought this diverse group together, their practical interface during the meeting revealed the absence of a shared understanding of what protection means and entails in and for practice. Perceptions differed not only between the humanitarian segment, government representatives and the UN mission (including its military commanders). Also among the humanitarian organisations themselves were there diverging and conflicting perceptions and usages of the protection discourse. Basically, all seemed to interpret the protection framework according to their own institutional culture without an eye for harmonisation and coordination.

I hold that these observations are not particular to the protection cluster in Bor. Indeed, I’ve come across similar ambiguities and challenges in other settings, including more central UNMIS levels, among other NGOs and at the UN headquarter in New York. As such, the observations in Bor could be seen as indicative for a larger and more general concern pertaining to the protection of civilians; that is, the lack of a common and shared conceptualisation of the term.

The ambiguity of protection relates to protection’s institutional trajectory within the UN starting in the late 1990s and the political challenges the UN had to overcome when initially dealing with it: on the one hand there was the need to establish a robust framework to secure civilian protection, on the other hand it was a need to have this framework adopted at the most authoritative level. Hence, when the protection framework – infused by the language of the humanitarian principles – was brought to the Security Council, the council refused to adopt it in fear of it becoming too binding and political. In shredding of the principles, the council rather opted for a milder version; that is, a non-binding ‘culture of protection’ to be disseminated throughout the UN. Hence, there exists no unifying notion of protection within the UN, and this ambiguity transfers onto the field level and the organisations involved. It seems that the lack of a clear definition of protection permeates the UN system which inevitably affects non-UN organisations when these seek to coordinate their efforts with UN entities.

The cluster approach seemed to have emerged as an effect of the lack of a stringent protection definition. This illustrates another phenomenon, i.e. the inversion of policy and practice: when the policy concepts that aim to direct practice are unclear, new practices tend to evolve and these practices can be counterproductive to the original policies. As such, the ambiguities of the cluster approach and the lack of a protection definition draw attention to the complex relationship between policy and practice. Nominally policy aims to direct practice, being the very raison d’être of policy-making and the answer to why policymakers invest so many resources into hatching and formulating policies. This positivist faith in planning and top-down approaches have, however, the unfortunate effect of producing a growing ignorance to the local variations and multiple contexts where these policies are being implemented. Such centralized planning is also largely dismissive of the many nodes and intersections any policy passes through when moving from the global to the local, and the unpredictable transformations the original planned intent may take in the diverse junctures between policy and practice. An adverse inevitability, at least from the perspective of the planners, is an ever widening discrepancy between the policy and the practice of it. And the more ambitious the scope is – and the idea of civilian protection based on a set of universal principles is indeed grand – the greater the disjuncture between policy and practice tend to become.

While the policy-practice discrepancy is seen as a challenge to policymakers at the central level, it might give opportunities to the practitioners and assist the beneficiaries at the local levels. As was the case in Bor where the lack of a stringent protection definition meant greater autonomy at the local level for the different agencies. It also meant that all humanitarian actors were included in the fold without having to pay attention to who passes an abstract threshold or not. The loose definition of protection, or the culture of protection, brought different people and agencies together. And although this produced cacophonies when trying to harmonise diverse protection agencies and approaches, it nevertheless allowed for operational variation and complexity that arguably was more in tune with the local needs than any centrally devised policies. And while such complexity and multitude might be a challenge to universal principles and ambitious policymakers, such plurality – indeed an effect of the ambiguous protection framework – might in fact be conducive to a more contextual, sensitized and effective approach to civilian protection.

PoC: The Politics of Counting Rape in Darfur

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During my fieldwork in Khartoum in February/March this year a paradoxical development was brought to my attention. The records of UNAMID, The African Union/UN Hybrid operation in Darfur, indicate that sexual violence is on a decrease in Darfur. These records are, because of their sensitive nature, not open to the general public. Several interviews with both diplomats and humanitarian actors supported this assertion.

If sexual violence in Darfur is in fact on the decrease, that is good news indeed. But the validity of the assertion invites critical scrutiny.

Interviews conducted with humanitarian and political actors suggest that only the reporting of rape cases to UNAMID has gone down. Sudanese informants referred mockingly to UNAMID as “the African mistake in Darfur”, implying that the largest peacekeeping operation to date is not up to the task. They explain that the reporting to UNAMID has gone down because in 2009, the Sudanese government has expelled the humanitarian actors that were most active in referring cases to UNAMID and in speaking out publicly and bringing attention to the systematic and widespread rape in Darfur.

It is close to impossible to get research permits to Darfur for a Western researcher. But my interviews in Khartoum with International and Sudanese nationals active in Darfur before and after the expulsions suggest that the violence, including sexual violence, may actually be on the increase. In the words of a former minister from Darfur “the violence is escalating (…) It is out of control and it has become an everyday event by the police, the security, the Janjaweed and the rebels. The international community is deserting them. UNAMID is doing nothing. They are not protecting civilians. They cannot even protect themselves. (…)”.

The lack of reporting and the implicit conclusion that sexual violence might be on the decrease, potentially has significant political implications; it backs President Bashir’s claim that the evidence for the systematic and widespread sexual violence in Darfur was fabricated by the international community in an effort to undermine the Sudanese government.

Systematic and widespread sexual violence in Darfur: Government denial

In 2005, the UN published a report on sexual violence in Darfur concluding that the Government of the Sudan and the Janjaweed were responsible for widespread and systematic violations of international human rights law and international humanitarian law.

An arrest warrant for Bashir was issued on 4 March 2009 indicting him on five counts of crimes against humanity (murder, extermination, forcible transfer, torture and rape) and two counts of war crimes (pillaging and intentionally directing attacks against civilians). The indictment speaks to 1325 (2000), 1820 (2008), 1888 (2009) 1889 (2009) and 1960 (2010) on women, peace and security and acknowledges the sexualization of violence in Darfur. The President insists that the allegations of widespread and systematic rape were being fabricated for political purposes. In an interview with Lindsey Hilsum from Channel 4 Bashir argued that

“When it comes to mass rape, there is no document or evidence, just accusations (…). We are fully convinced that no rape took place. It might have happened at an individual level, but this is a normal crime that can happen in any country in the world. Mass rape does not exist.

Expulsion of humanitarian actors from Darfur

The Sudanese government’s reactions to this indictment have had dramatic repercussions for the humanitarian presence in Darfur, including within the area of gender based violence (GBV) programming.

Immediately following the ICC indictment, the Sudanese government expelled 13 international NGOs operating in Darfur and de-registered prominent national NGOs that between them employed nearly 40% of Darfur’s aid workers. The Vice-President stated that

“Whenever an organization takes humanitarian aid as a cover to achieve a political agenda that affects the security of the county and its stability, measures are to be taken by law to protect the country and its interests.”

Government officials made it clear that they would fill the void left by the International NGOs with “national and friendly foreign NGOs”.  In addition to the international NGOs that were expelled, the Sudanese Humanitarian Aid Commission (HAC) de-registered three Sudanese NGOS; the Amal Centre for Rehabilitation of Victims of Violence, the Khartoum Centre for Human Rights Development and Environment and the Sudan Social Development Organization (SUDO).

The Sudanese government harbours a particular antipathy towards those humanitarian actors that address gender-based violence, and/or speak out publicly about rape cases. As a consequence, a humanitarian worker explains “The meetings in the GBV cluster used to be packed. Now they are empty (…)”.

Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) was accused of spying for the ICC. In 2005, MSF published The Crushing Burden of Rape,  a report  on the widespread sexual violence in Darfur. MSF reported treating nearly 500 rape survivors from October 2004 to early February 2005. Two senior members of MSF Holland were arrested charged with espionage and publishing false information. In 2006, the Norwegian Refugee Council was expelled from Darfur after publishing a report on 80 cases of rape around Kalma Camp in southern Darfur. Khartoum claimed the findings were false.

In 2013, one of the major concerns on the ground is the diminished capacity on reporting on GBV violations. In the words of an activist from Darfur:

“The arrest warrant of Bashir has affected our work in Darfur. The word ‘protection of civilians‘ became very sensitive. If we use that term then the government thinks that we are collecting rape cases and reporting them to the ICC.  With the ICC, reporting of rape has become more difficult. (…)”.

Similarly, according to an international organization working within the area of GBV violence in Darfur; The gaps left by the expulsion of 13 NGOs following the announcement of the arrest warrant for President al-Bashir in March 2009, remain. (…) The expulsion of the International NGOs has significantly reduced the capacity for monitoring and referrals, as well as diminished the reporting capacity on GBV issues”.

International NGOs as political tools?

The International NGOs most forceful in the work and advocacy on GBV has been expelled. Remaining humanitarian agencies openly admit their reluctance to speak out about sexual violence. Because of government restrictions and intimidation, it is increasingly difficult for the remaining actors to work within the field of GBV without the risk of expulsion. As a consequence the reporting of rape to UNAMID has gone down. This poses an ethical dilemma to the remaining International NGOs:  On the one hand, if the government restricts or even blocks work on GBV, the humanitarian NGOs can still provide vital services in water, sanitation, and food security. On the other hand, by keeping silent on GBV, do the remaining humanitarian actors, described by the government as ‘friendly foreign NGOs’,  simply serve as political tools for Bashir in his claim that ‘Mass rape does not exist’ in Darfur?

Somalia from Humanitarian Crisis to Struggling Statehood

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March 21, more than 90 people attended a Breakfast seminar “Return to Somalia, a New Era” jointly hosted by NCHS and PRIO’s Migration Research Group. Speakers were Abdi Aynte, executive director of the Heritage Institute for Policy Studies (HIPS) , HIPS researcher Anab Ibrahim Nur and PRIO senior researcher Cindy Horst.  HIPS is a recently established Somali think tank based in Mogadishu, and a collaborative research partner to NCHS on the Somali case study for the Protection of Civilians project. A recording of this event is available here.

Abdi Aynte explained that after more than 20 years of wars and widespread disorder, Somalia entered a new era of optimism during the last quarter of 2012. A UN-backed process culminated in the selection of 275 members of parliament, and a new leadership was subsequently elected. The capital Mogadishu is considerably safer than it was two years ago. The new government has extended its domain of control to a number of regions outside the capital, and business vibrancy and civil society activities are slowly but steadily returning to Somalia. Despite the progress, significant challenges remain. The Somali state is profoundly fragile, and the state of chronic contestation over political and resource control persists. The new government has yet to articulate a set of national policies on most crucial issues, and the nature of Somalia’s federal structure remains disputed.

In her presentation (available here, under related files to the left), Cindy Horst discussed protection, displacement and return to Somalia. Her main message was that considering the profoundly fragile state of the road towards stabilization in Somalia, it is very premature to return people there at the moment. Not only can their protection not be guaranteed, but ultimately, a large influx of “involuntary returnees” is likely to destabilize an already fragile situation in the country. Horst also argued that the increasing return visits and stays of Somali diaspora to places like Mogadishu cannot be used as an argument to force others back, as protection upon return depends on many different factors – not the least having a foreign passport that allows a quick exit again if the security situation turns bad. She expressed her concern over the shrinking protection space for refugees and IDPs worldwide – not just affecting those trying to find protection from violent conflict but also increasingly in the transitional phase towards stability.
Both speakers asked a number of critical questions relating to the issue of Repatriation and “Voluntary” Return: What will be the humanitarian implications as the Kenyan government attempts to repatriate more than half a million Somali refugees?  Many Western countries have buffed up their repatriation programs, including repatriation of rejected asylum seekers and also potentially Somalis with a criminal record. What will be the plight of these civilians and what kind of protection is available for them once they get off the plane in Mogadishu? While the new Somali government has started to reach agreements with a number of countries offering conditionality packages (aid for return), can it deal with the impact of a large influx of people?

Three specific issues were highlighted in the discussion that followed the presentations. The first is the Contested Role of the Diaspora as Humanitarians and Leaders and the development of what has been termed ‘Diaspora Hate Syndrome’ in Mogadishu and other places.  While the Diaspora has often played an important role in providing humanitarian aid for Somalis inside Somalia, the influx of a large number of Somali individuals carrying European, American or Australian passports who want “top jobs” in the reconstruction phase is currently generating tension on the ground.

The second concerned the proliferation of land disputes, which is becoming a topic of particular concern. As noted in a 2009 report by ODI on land, conflict and humanitarian action, “Land and property disputes tend to increase in the post-conflict period, particularly in the context of large-scale returns of displaced populations. If these issues are overlooked, they are likely to threaten the fragile stability of post-conflict transitions”. Hence, one of the most acute needs  is for the government to re-establish some way of managing the increasing number of land disputes, sometimes fueled by individuals in control of old registries issuing deeds and titles.

Finally, the international humanitarian community, which has a less than impressive track record in Somalia must now face up to new challenges. As pointed out in a 2012 report by Refugees International: “With security in Mogadishu improving, international aid agencies should be able to increase their presence on the ground, allowing them to learn more about how these gatekeepers operate and to whom they are connected. With this increased knowledge and greater presence, the aid system in Mogadishu can become more open and accountable”.

Urban Humanitarianism: Accessing informal settlements in Nairobi, Kenya

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This blogpost is based on the first phase of my PhD fieldwork in the informal settlements of Nairobi. Over the next four years you can follow the developments of the NUPI/PRIO project Armed Violence in Urban Settings: New Challenges, New Humanitarianisms on this site. Our goal is to explore the humanitarian engagement in the field of urban violence.

Access is a critical issue for any humanitarian organization making their entry into a new field. Often, the question of access is purely physical:  During the rainy season, populations in villages connected to rest of the world by a single dirt road can be impossible to reach. The informal settlements of Nairobi do not fall into this category. Huruma can be seen from the Northeastern corner of the UN compound. Resident expats catch an excellent view of the Kibera Slum from the 11th hole at the Royal Nairobi Golf Club. Nevertheless, short physical distance is no guarantee of easy access.

Urban access. If access to an informal settlement is not granted by the local residents, there will be no security for staff and no project. Negotiating access to such informal urban settlements can be daunting, as humanitarian actors  must navigate several layers of formal and informal governmental structures. While permission from the central government is required, nothing will happen without the seal of approval from the presidentially appointed chiefs, assistant chiefs and village elders who hold key positions at the local level. The loyalty of these elders is primarily to the community, including at times those engaged in criminal and violent activities.

While the police might have achieved some sway in Mathare, the law is enforced by youth gangs in many of the Kibera villages, where The twelve disciples and Yes we can! are among the groups providing protection.  While  the defeat of the dreaded Mungiki is widely proclaimed in Mathare, the gangs remain a formidable force in this settlement. Financed by “taxation” of the community they ensure that the residents’ property and lives remain safe from external and internal threats. Any organization setting up projects in Mathare will need their tacit approval. Landlords are also important actors. Rents are rapidly adjusted to changing circumstances; a local water and sanitation project can result in increased prices that force the residents into financial exodus. Any structures or renovations in the slums need approval of the de jure owners, who are not known for their philanthropic nature.

The INGOs interviewed for this project have almost exclusively relied on a Community Based Organization (CBO) to negotiate first access. This, however, is not a fail-safe plan. These organizations are often centered around a charismatic leader, whose politics can compromise neutrality. There are also several “suit-case CBOs” with few real ties to the community and no actual projects. Selling projects to the humanitarian and human rights organizations is potentially very good business; a fact that creative entrepreneurs have learned to capitalize on.

Having managed to work with and around these political structures, humanitarian actors still face a real risk of involuntary involvement in the tribal and ethnic conflicts that dominate Kenyan politics.  Tribal suspicions run high, and skewed representation of one tribe among the staff could potentially be enough for the INGO to be seen as a partisan.  Rumors run fast through the settlements and any organization wishing to operate in this area must keep one ear constantly to the ground: Catching and disproving rumors early is of vital importance for staff safety.

Put to the test? While the conflict during the 2007-08 elections was between the Kikuyu and Kalenjin, the current political drama is playing out between the Kikuyu and the Luo. Prior to the 2013 election,  the graffiti “No Raila: No Peace” could be found everywhere in Kibera, including at the gates of the MSF Belgium clinic. In 2007-08, the violence spread from the city to the country side – eventually engulfing most of the country. The death toll rose beyond a thousand and estimates of the number of displaced vary between 180 000 and 600 000.

Despite the large number of humanitarian organizations in Nairobi, the humanitarian community was caught off guard. Evaluations of the response indicate that while IDP camps received the necessary aid, the humanitarians were largely incapable of aiding those who settled elsewhere. Those who sought shelter among family and friends in the settlements were hard to identify and support.

At the time of writing, it appears that in 2013, the  humanitarian community has been better prepared. OCHA has initiated a hub-based coordination system that ensures that actors know of each other and the relevant government structures in the areas where they operate. Nairobi has been divided into seven sub-hubs, each of which is led by an organization with solid local knowledge. The responsibility for the life and dignity of Kenyans rests with the Kenyan government. Making government actors aware of the resources they can call upon from the humanitarian community, and making sure that humanitarian response complements the government efforts, has been a cornerstone of the preparation.

The move from a sector-based to an area specific coordination of humanitarian action and the inclusion of the CBOs and Faith Based Organizations in the disaster preparedness plan are approaches which on a general basis could enhance access to urban populations during crisis and   strengthen the humanitarian response.

Update April 2nd: In the end there was no test. The Kenyan Supreme Court decided against the petition fronted by Odinga, confirming the election of Uhurru Kenyatta as the president to succeed Kibaki. Raila Odinga held a speech reaffirming his commitment to the constitution and thereby also the decision of the Supreme Court. There was no outbreak of political violence, though two deaths were reported by Kenya Red Cross in the immediate aftermath of the announcement.

 

PoC: Where the Price for Mobilizing Protection Laws is Your Life – the Plight of Colombia’s Women IDP Leaders

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In November 2012, Human Rights Watch published the report  “Rights Out of Reach: Obstacles to Health, Justice, and Protection for Displaced Victims of Gender-Based Violence in Colombia” documenting the failure of recent improvements in Colombia’s laws, policies and programs on gender based violence to translate into effective protection for internally displaced women, so-called IDPs.  The long-term activist Angélica Bello was interviewed in the report, decrying the lack of protection against rape, the lack of health care and the lack of compensation for displaced women.

At the age of 45, Bello, the director of the National Foundation in Defense of Women’s Rights (FUNDHEFEM) had been displaced four times due to her crusade on behalf of Colombia’s  3,5-5,4 million displaced, of whom a majority are women. Coming out of a meeting at the Ministry of Justice in Bogotá in 2009, she was abducted and sexually assaulted – and told by her assailants that she was being punished for her activist work.

February 16 2013, Bello’s struggle for social justice and better protection for displaced women ended with a bullet to the head. Her death was initially ruled suicide- the authorities stated that she had killed herself with a gun left behind by one of her bodyguards in the government-provided security detail. The Colombian human rights community is deeply suspicious and the National Ombudsman has requested an autopsy. Regardless of Bello’s almost extreme personal courage and whatever the truth about Bello’s death, the kind of insecurity she faced as a consequence of her activism, is an all too familiar story of suffering, violence, suspicion- and of laws not implemented. In recent years, many female IDP leaders have been assassinated. Almost everyone get threats.

CIJUS in Colombia and PRIO have collaborated on a three-year multi-methods study on a particular aspect of the PoC issue, namely the role of legal protection frameworks. We have examined the relationship between legal mobilization, political organizing and access to resources for IDP grassroots organizations in Colombia.  Often overlooked in scholarship on legal mobilization, the acute insecurity of those advocating for implementation of existing law and local administrative regulations have emerged as a key finding in our research.

Recognized as a severe humanitarian crisis, Colombia’s massive internal displacement is a consequence of a prolonged internal conflict between guerrilla groups, government forces and illegal armed groups, compounded by an extended war on drugs. Displacement results in dramatically increased rates of impoverishment. In the city, IDPs experience discrimination in the labor and housing market, and in accessing government services such as education and primary health care. For women IDPs, these crosscutting forms of marginalization are compounded by gender-specific types of vulnerability, such as sexual violence and poor maternal health.

We have looked specifically at the efforts of, Liga de la Mujeres Desplazadas, the League of Displaced Women, to use the Colombian Constitutional Court and the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights to achieve physical and material security for its members.

In a relatively sophisticated state bureaucracy such as Colombia’s, humanitarian policies will not be based on the traditional humanitarian tool kit, but on administrative structures, social programs, and regulations that are justiciable.

Since the 2011 Victims Act, there has been a shifting in how the displacement problem is being framed:  In the process of mapping and interviewing all of Colombia’s 66 women IDP organizations from 2010 and onwards, we observed that many began to talk about themselves as “Victims organizations”. However, despite this reframing, the situation on the ground remains unchanged:  implementation is inadequate and poverty and insecurity shape the rhythm of everyday life.

Like Bello, the leaders of Liga de Mujeres have received multiple death threats. Located in and around the Caribbean city Cartagena, the Liga’s highly successful efforts at consciousness raising, income generating activities, and participation in local politics, has also meant that its members and their relatives have been harassed, raped, disappeared and killed by neo-paramilitary groups, also called Bacrims (Bandas Criminales). The Bacrims are organized criminal outfits emerging on the tails of the Paramilitary demobilization process, initiated under the 2005 Justice and Peace law. Bacrims such as the Black Eagles and ERPAC rapidly became the main threat to IDP/Victims leaders, as well as community leaders, human rights defenders, trade unionists.

As a consequence, the Liga has been included in government protection schemes for a number of years. However, seen from the perspective of the Ligas grassroots members, inclusion in these schemes did not result in any form of meaningful protection.  In response, the Liga’s turned to strategic litigation.

The Colombian Constitutional Court has been vocal in its defense of Colombia’s IDPS, and several important decisions have specifically considered the precarious security situation of women community leaders, and ordered the government to provide effective protection.  In 2008, with Award 092, the Court ordered the government to adopt thirteen specific, tailored-made programs on issues such as housing, child care, mental health and security. Auto 092 gave orders for the protection of 600 individualized IDP women considered to be at risk, of whom 150 belonged to the Liga.

To oversee implementation of 092, women’s organizations, including the Liga, formed a national monitoring committee. In April 2011 the monitoring committee received a written threat from ERPAC- specifically mentioning the Liga- in which the women “advocating for the implementation of Auto 092” were declared military targets and threatened with anal rape.

By 2011, parallel to the process with the constitutional court, the Liga had obtained precautionary measures from the Inter American Commission for all its members. The content of such protection measures is the subject of negotiation between those obtaining the measures and the government.  When discussions over what effective protection would look like broke down in July 2011, the Colombian state subsequently redefined the Ligas security risk from “high” to “medium”, and scaled back the government protection scheme.  Meanwhile, the Liga has continued to receive threats from Aguilas Negras and ERPAC.

Angélica Bello’s plight is unusually tragic. Yet, she is not the first and will unfortunately not be the last woman to die in the struggle for implementing laws protecting women from displacement, threats, disappearances and sexual violence.

A shorter version of this blog was posted on the intlawgrrls blog earlier in March 2013.

PoC: Protection, displacement and return to Somalia – Whose responsibility, whose rights?

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How do people find protection in a world that increasingly attempts to govern their movements – in particular those that cross international borders? This larger question inspired me to compare measures and understandings of protection for Somali refugees and internally displaced people (IDPs). While I had not conducted research on the situation of Somali IDPs before, I have published extensively on the situation of Somalis in regional refugee camps – for example in the monograph Transnational Nomads and latest blog Finding protection from violent conflict and famine?

The current interest of a number of states in commencing the return of refugees to Somalia, as well as to relocate and return IDPs in urban areas in Mogadishu and Hargeisa, directly affects the protection of the individuals involved. The, arguably premature, focus on stabilization seems to be guided by a wish to claim success of international reconciliation efforts and a justification for returning large numbers of refugees and asylumseekers from places like Kenya and Sweden. Yet such pressure to return greatly runs the risk of destabilizing processes in Somalia while offering no guarantee that those being returned will find any kind of protection. Though it is unlikely that a country like Kenya is going to follow through statements that it will ‘relocate’ half a million refugees from Dadaab to IDP camps in ‘liberated’ areas, there is a much greater risk that funding for assistance in Dadaab will increasingly dry up, encouraging a ‘voluntary’ return from the camps. A number of these issues are also analyzed in a recent report entitled Hasty Repatriation.

As my recent fieldwork in Nairobi brought to light, attempts to govern mobility do not just take place through border control and immigration measures, but also through humanitarian policies and practices. The importance of such policies and practices is particularly visible in Somalia’s current ‘transitional phase’, characterized by an increased focus on return and a shift from an emergency approach to stabilization programming. This shift is accompanied by talks of relocating funding from Kenya, Somaliland and Puntland to South/Central Somalia, where insecurity is still rampant and the newly established government faces considerable challenges. PRIO’s collaborative partner, the Heritage Institute for Policy Studies (HIPS), is conducting data collection in Mogadishu and Hargeisa to explore the implications in Somalia.

As humanitarian policies and practices affect protection and displacement, before flight as much as after, it is crucial to underscore that mobility remains one of the most efficient ways in which those affected by violent conflict can protect themselves. Consider Mohamed Shukri’s story. When I spoke with him in Nairobi, early 2009, he told me he was pressured by his family and friends to leave Mogadishu for many months, but stayed on until July 2008 when two of his close friends and colleagues were assassinated. He realized it was no longer safe for him either. Just like his friends, he had been very outspoken on human rights abuses by all parties involved in the conflict, and was likely to be targeted. He was able to leave Somalia and lived in Nairobi for a while – until he deemed it safe for him to return to Mogadishu.

Not only individuals like Mohamed, who because of their activities or individual characteristics are persecuted in their own country, protect themselves through fleeing. Civilians who get caught up in violent conflict and suffer its effects do the same. As Mohamed’s story shows, this is not necessarily a decision easily taken. Fleeing involves new security risks, while it forces people to leave behind what is dear to them. It also entails moving towards an uncertain future in exile without many of the resources to cope with that uncertainty. While in exile, return decisions are constantly considered and weighed against the security situation for the individual or family concerned, and other relevant factors.

Mohamed’s story highlights none of the practical difficulties of leaving a conflict zone, as he had the necessary contacts and money – now occupying a senior position in Somalia’s newly established government. Yet many who decide to move from an area or country in conflict face considerable obstacles, leading researchers to conclude that refugees are often stuck in situations of ‘involuntary immobility’. Warring factions restrict people’s mobility for strategic reasons, as al-Shabab has been doing in the areas it controlled. Governments in the region and beyond attempt to govern migration, concerned with large-scale movements from conflict areas and fearing various spill-over effects. As such, the question of how people find protection in a world where states play a role in governing mobility – through border control and immigration measures as well as through their humanitarian policies and practices – remains highly relevant. And the current situation in Somalia clearly highlights, this question needs to be addressed not just before and during flight, but also during displacement and upon return.

Humanitarianism and Weapons: Should a ban on nuclear weapons rely on humanitarian principles?

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4-5 March 2013, The Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs hosts an international conference on the humanitarian impact of nuclear weapons. In conjunction with this event, the international campaign to abolish nuclear weapons (ICAN) organised a two day ‘civil society forum’ in Oslo this weekend, with more than 500 participants. This blog post is based on my brief introduction to a panel there on ‘ethics in international politics’ that centered on the following questions: ‘What does it take for ethical arguments to trump the vested interests of powerful actors? How can we elevate ethical concerns to the center-stage of international decision-making processes?’

Often, a distinction is drawn between instrumental self-serving reasoning and ethical reasoning concerned with the interests of others. A similar distinction is commonly drawn in international politics between realpolitik, based on the self-serving reasoning of states, and ethics, involving an altruistic commitment to issues like humanitarianism, human rights and peace. Framing nuclear weapons as a humanitarian concern situates it in the latter category.

If ethical arguments in favour of banning nuclear arms are limited to this notion of ethics as altruism, it will fail in trumping the vested interests of powerful states. Crudely speaking, international politics are driven by the self-preservation of states and corporations, and a campaign against nuclear weapons has to engage with these premises in order to be ‘speaking truth to power’. This is not to say that any commitment by states to universal human rights and humanitarianism would be a fraud. However, as soon as these norms start conflicting with self-interest, they stand to lose. The strength and condition for international humanitarian law, like the laws of war, is that they actually are useful for the do not

The campaign to abolish nuclear weapons is inspired by successful campaigns for the abolishment of anti-personnel landmines and cluster munitions. As these were rooted in a humanitarian agenda, one might claim that they prove me wrong. Yet, when it comes to the self-preservation of major powers there are fundamental differences between landmines and cluster munitions on the one hand and nuclear weapons on the other. Rather than being an essential source of self-preservation, landmines have been a nuisance to major Western powers when intervening in war-torn states around the world over the past decades. Substantive resources have been devoted to de-mining, and a ban on landmines was a useful alternative in this regard. Concerning cluster munitions, the military use of these for major powers was also limited. This recognition was partly obtained by virtue of the campaign against cluster munitions, and this exemplifies how ethical arguments should address the premises of instrumental self-serving reasoning in addition to appealing to humanitarian ideals.

In stark contrast to landmines and cluster munitions, nuclear weapons are commonly conceived as a cornerstone of the power of the permanent five (P5) in the UN Security Council, as well as an existential prerequisite for countries like India, Pakistan and Israel. In a situation where the monopoly of the P5 on nuclear weapons is waning, their skepticism to nuclear disarmament will only be growing. Only if a legal ban were to be combined with credible security guarantees and enforcement mechanisms beyond economic or political sanctions, could their concern for national security be met. To governments with a primary mandate of promoting state security, humanitarian principles appear as irrelevant in this connection.

The good news in this story stem from the extremely bad news of nuclear weapons: that they are inherently contradictory to self-preservation and national security. Combined with a reliable sanctioning regime, a ban would be far more conducive to the security of the citizens of nuclear powers than the reliance on ‘mutual assured destruction’. That the security risk of a conventional military attack is reduced by possessing the weapon is outweighed by far by the security risk of getting caught up in nuclear war. The only way for another nuclear power to win militarily is to launch an attack so devastating that it makes retaliation unlikely. And for non-state actors, launching a nuclear attack may seem more justifiable against countries whose military predominance relies on nuclear arms. In a long term perspective, the likelihood of such scenarios is far from zero if the Non-Proliferation Treaty is not reinforced by a stronger and more consistent regime of nuclear disarmament.

Hence, in addition to appealing to humanitarian norms, the campaign to ban nuclear arms should primarily rely on realist arguments against nuclear weapons as a source of national security. It should seek the support of the citizens of nuclear powers in particular, appealing to their concern for their own security. This, however, would require coupling a ban with enforcement mechanisms of a sort that would require a revolution in multilateralism. Arguably, this would nonetheless be fully in line with the self-interest of major powers.

Given the magnitude of that task, one might rather opt for a humanitarian ban to be adopted by countries that are currently not possessing nuclear weapons. Both in order to prevent them from acquiring such in the future, and as a way of adding moral pressure against the outsiders of the treaty. Yet, in the absence of support by the P5, it would be unlikely that the ban would be coupled by sufficient oversight mechanisms beyond the current UN regime for preventing state and non-state actors from secretly acquiring nuclear weapons. Then, states committed to the ban for humanitarian reasons would suffer militarily, and the division would increase between ‘nuclear rogue states’ on the one hand and ‘good states’ backed by Western nuclear powers on the other. If humanitarian principles were to be blamed for this mistake, it would be a radical blow to the political foundations of the international humanitarian regime as well.

PoC: How the Security Council in 1999 came to consider protection of civilians in armed conflict

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It is now fourteen years since the UN Security Council formally decided to include protection of civilians in armed conflict as a separate item on its agenda. The event was marked by an open discussion on protection in the Security Council – the first of its kind – which took place in February 1999.  It was followed by a request to the UN Secretary-General for a comprehensive report on the subject. The report was duly submitted in September (S/1999/957), which highlighted problems (“challenges “in UN language) and ways of addressing them. The Security Council endorsed the report’s recommendations in a formal resolution.

That was the beginning of a biannual, and later annual, routine in the Security Council  of dedicated discussions, reports and resolutions  that highlighted protection of civilians in armed conflict. Dedicated websites now follow the process. The practice has become so well institutionalized and widely accepted that we readily overlook the significance of these first, path-breaking steps in 1999.

Before then, the Security Council had focused on “hard” security issues of war and peace. Occasional reports had been requested and resolutions passed that dealt with refugees – not surprising given the existence of a large, and in the 1990s increasingly powerful, UN agency with a mandate to protect refugees (UNHCR). Questions of protection of civilians in armed conflict had also surfaced in the context of particular crises – notably the genocide in Rwanda in 1994, when the UN peacekeeping force, UNAMIR, was told to stick its head in the sand rather than respond to the unfolding signs of a genocide, and also when UN peacekeepers the following year were passive bystanders to the massacre in Srebrenica. But it took another five years before the Security Council was energized to consider protection of civilians in armed conflict as a subject worthy attention on its own, and in its own right. Protecting civilians was in effect elevated to the sphere of ‘high politics’.

How  did that happen?   And why then?

The context was favourable. The 1990s was “the humanitarian decade”. Humanitarian action was the language of the time, the veil of politics, and in part also a driving force. Analyst spoke of an international order with “embedded humanitarianism”.

An agent was needed as well. The crucial initiatives came from the Canadian government, above all its innovative and energetic foreign minister, Lloyd Axworthy. The government (then liberal with a small as well as large L), was seeking a seat on the Security Council and campaigned on three issues. “Human security” was one of them. Having rescued the term from near-oblivion (it first came to general attention in the 1994 UNDP Human Development Report), the Canadians had been promoting  “human security” as a central concept in foreign policy and international relations.  The new orientation had already contributed to a very significant result – the treaty banning landmines was signed in Ottawa in 1997. With their eyes on the Security Council seat, the Canadians were now seeking broader support for the “human security” concept and its possible concretizations.

The Norwegians soon signed on. “Human security” fitted nicely with the country’s general foreign policy traditions as well as the particular orientation of the new coalition government lead by the Christian Democrats (Bondevik I). Not so coincidentally, Norway was also angling for a future seat on the Security Council and needed relevant issues and allies. In 1998, the foreign ministers of the two countries met at a small island in western Norway where they declared their support for human security (the Lysøen Declaration).

Canada did win a seat in the Security Council (1999-2000), and so, a bit later, did Norway (2001-2001). The Canadians immediately tabled the issue of protection of civilians in armed conflict. The rest, as they say, is history. The issue never left the Security Council again. Outside the Security Council, the Canadians promoted “the responsibility to protect’ (R2P) as a matter of principle on the national and international level, receiving a measure of endorsement by the UN World Summit conference in 2005.

The above analysis of how the Security Council routinely came to pay attention to protection of civilians in armed conflict is cast in a neo-realist mould.  In this perspective, noble ideas need to be propelled forwards by more robust national interests of power and ambition, such as getting a seat on the Security Council. That is, we need to recognize the instrumental value of ideas to account for their political saliency. We also need to step outside a narrow neo-realistic framework to consider the conceptual clarity and normative power of the idea itself. At the time,  “human security” was a powerful idea; concretizing it in terms of protection of civilians gave it a focus and policy relevance necessary to capture the agenda of the Security Council.

What this all matters on the ground, outside the chambers of policy debates in the United Nations, is of course another question. But high-level recognition of a problem surely is a necessary (though not sufficient) prerequisite for effective active.

What, then, of the future? Will “human security” again provide inspiration or legitimacy for new initiatives in the humanitarian sector? The original carriers – Norway and Canada – will this spring mark the 15th anniversary of the original Lysøen Declaration. It will be a low-key and totally unofficial affair. The present Canadian government, no longer liberal with a small l, has practically banned the term (and taken down the website). The Norwegian government has not gone quite as far, but seems focused elsewhere.  Yet there is no lack of urgent issues. On top of my list is the development of an international regime to regulate ‘targeted killings’, particularly through drone strikes.  To get this squarely on the table of the Security Council and beyond, however, probably requires a massive lift – more than even an inspired Oslo-Ottawa axis could carry.