People and organisations in the UK’s overseas development sector are getting hot under the collar. This is because the government is not prioritising legislation to enshrine a perpetual commitment to spend 0.7% of UK Gross National Income (GNI) on overseas development aid (ODA). Letters are being drafted, articles are being written, politicians are being lobbied. After all, this issue has cross-party support, so why not just rush it through parliament?
Well, there are several reasons why not.
First, it’s politically naïve to push this issue now. In case NGOs haven’t noticed, most voters are not clamouring for this to be made into law. In fact, most people would rather see UK aid reduced, not increased in line with the 0.7% pledge. The Daily Mail is among voices asking why we are helping people far away when we have so many problems at home. On the whole it’s only aid specialists and some among the political elite who want to increase aid. So pushing the Overseas Development Spending Bill through parliament now would be like raising a red rag to a bull. Asking a government already under pressure to raise a red rag to a bull seems rather naïve – especially when it has already committed itself to raise the aid budget to 0.7%, and when its own backbenchers already have difficulty explaining the overseas aid budget to their constituents.
Second, there’s no logical basis for 0.7%. In fact, what is this obsession with 0.7% all about? No-one really seems to know where it came from. As far as I know, someone calculated a few decades ago that the investment gap in what was then known as the Third World was the equivalent of 0.7% of OECD GNP, ergo by transferring that amount from the First to the Third World over a period of a few years, developing countries would catch up. That rather simplistic notion of “development” has long been blown apart, but somehow the mythical, or perhaps I should say “mystical” figure of 0.7% remains. Paul Collier has argued that because aid is a global public good, there is a problem of free-riding and therefore it’s useful to have a target, however arbitrary, to aim for and hold governments to. Hmm, fair enough perhaps, but why should it be 0.7%?
Third, surely it’s basic economics that an arbitrary target creates a perverse supply incentive?
Fourth, it seems absurd to enshrine this in law. Are any other budgetary targets similarly enshrined, such as the percentage of GNI to be spent on defence, education, health, etc? I doubt it, as it would make little sense to base one’s national education, health or any other policy on the cost of inputs, when one should rather be focused on the outcomes. The same should be true of aid. In any case, I find it profoundly undemocratic to pass laws which simply cannot be enforced, and which bind the representatives of future UK voters to spend a fixed proportion of their voters’ money on overseas aid, whatever circumstances they may be in at the time.
Fifth, and most important: it’s the quality of aid that matters, not the volume. The current government has rightly emphasised results and value for money in its approach to overseas aid. This is partly to head off the anti-aid critics, but it’s also a healthy reaction to more than a decade in which UK aid grew and grew and grew, but with far too little attention being paid to whether it was targeted at the right issues, in the right places, nor whether the theories behind it and delivery mechanisms being used were right. One can certainly argue that the current government has swung too far in the other direction with its near-obsession with value for money, but even so it’s understandable it felt the need to do so.
Squaring the circle
The UK government has a difficult circle to square. It is committed to increasing aid to 0.7% of GNI, with or without passing the Bill. Even though we are in recession, that implies an increase of more 25% in aid expenditure over the course of a few short years. Meanwhile, its criticism of the previous government’s approach to aid means it has called into question some of the delivery mechanisms which allow DFID (the UK’s Dept. for International Development) to spend money in fairly big sums at a relatively low internal cost: large scale budget support to developing country governments, large grants to the UN and other inefficient multilateral organisations, and strategic grants to UK-based development NGOs, to name three. It is also committed to bringing down DFID’s in-house costs, which are already among the lowest in the world compared to DFID’s international peers, by cutting staff numbers and their admin support (ask any DFID staff member how easy it is to get a new stapler, or get the photocopier fixed….). The government is also committed to spending about one-third of its overseas aid in so-called fragile states, where systems are weak, governments are relatively undemocratic and unaccountable to their people, and where aid needs to be programmed with particular care if it is not to be wasted, misused, stolen or to do outright harm. And finally, people in the aid sector now understand that “development”, especially in fragile contexts, is far more complicated than providing roads, schools and clinics – it is about the emergence of stable, democratic and accountable insitutions including a social contract: thus development aid is also far more complex and complicated than we used to think.
So in short, Her Majesty’s Government is trying simultaneously to increase overall aid expenditure, spend a greater proportion in difficult places, tackle ever-more complex problems and find new, more effective and efficient delivery mechanisms which are fit for new and more complex purposes. How can it possibly square that circle?
A few years ago I was discussing this issue with an ex-minister for UK overseas development who by then had long retired. I explained why I felt it was more important to focus on the quality, not the quantity of aid. He readily agreed, but he told me that when he’d been a minister, he had felt constrained by the politics of aid to keep increasing the ODA budget, even when his officials told him they were overwhelmed. I think he felt that it was important to keep stepping up the voltage applied to ODA, lest momentum be lost.
Squaring almost any circle is made harder by politics, and I would not go as far as to recommend cuts in the UK government’s aid spending. That would be naïve, and probably also wrong. But the argument against reducing DFID’s staffing and admin support, making it harder to deliver aid effectively in fragile contexts is one that can and should be made. And I certainly think it’s time to stop pushing for the 0.7% figure to be reached as fast as possible. Above all it is entirely the wrong moment – if there ever is a right one – to enshrine 0.7% perpetually in law.
We have to start having a more honest conversation about development, and development aid. The message of Make Poverty History and those who campaign incessantly for 0.7%, that global poverty can be overcome simply by financial transfers, is misinformation which insults people living in poor and fragile countries while doing little to change their long-term prospects. Development is about political change and societal transformation in fragile contexts, not just financial transfers. It’s time to move the terms of this conversation on, before the Daily Mail does it for us.
The post-2015 MDGs: to which tribe do you belong?
Discussions about how or whether to replace the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs), after they “expire” in 2015 are gathering pace. I have argued elsewhere that although it is perhaps unlikely to produce a model that will satisfy those of a progressive disposition, the discussion itself is valuable, as it provides an opportunity to debate what “development means” among a wider group of people than are normally involved.
Dorine E Van Norren recently published an interesting article outlining how the MDGs might be expanded and made more useful as a communication tool. Specifically, for communicating a deeper and broader analytical narrative of what “development means”.
She also identifies, rather neatly, four categories of people with regards their perceptions of the MDGs:
- Optimists: those who see the items contained in the MDGs as key to change
- Strategic realists, who are happy to use the flawed MDGs to hold politicians’ feet to the fire over their commitment to poverty reduction
- Sceptics like myself, who doubt the utility of the MDGs and question whether they represent human development effectively
- Radical critics, for whom the MDGs represent a waste of space and the failure of the system.
Her article spurred me not only to self-identify as a member of the Sceptics tribe with an eye on how my cousins the Radical Critics and Strategic Realists are getting on, but also to identify four broad categories of questions which those with an interest in the post-2015 MDG agenda are debating. These are, grosso modo:
- Ideology: how should we define development or human progress?
- Purpose: if we truly need the MDGs or something to take their place, what are they for?
- Model: once we have decided on the purpose of the post-MDG thing, what kind of framework is most suitable for this purpose?
- Process: what is the right and legitimate process through which to articulate the answers to questions 1-3, and who should be involved?
Big questions, all. And clearly in the right order. Provided that after developing one’s own, or one’s organisation’s answers to all four, one answers them all again, following the process defined in response to question four. And so on until the music stops….
Framing development as history looking forwards
Good news that UK Prime Minister David Cameron is co-chairing the UN High Level Panel to shape an international framework to replace the Millennium Development Goals when they expire in 2015. His appointment to this role is presumably a reflection of and reward for the leadership role the UK has played in international development assistance over the past fifteen years since Clare Short set up the Department for International Development (DFID). No doubt his appointment was a result of strong lobbying by the UK. (To imagine it as a subtle way for Ban Ki-moon to stiffen Cameron’s resolve in the face of a media and backbench push back against the government’s commitment to increase UK official development assistance (ODA) up to 0.7% of GNI is perhaps going too far!)
Good news also that Cameron’s co-chairs are President Yudhoyono of middle income but still fragile Indonesia, and President Johnson-Sirleaf of grossly underdeveloped and war-recovering Liberia. Both are twice-elected presidents of countries still experimenting with democracy and freedom. One is an ex-general; the other an ex-international civil servant. Meanwhile Cameron is struggling to deal with coalition government, a free media and serious economic constraints. Quite a broad set of real world perspectives, so hopefully suitable for the leadership of such a panel.
Good news also that Cameron has a broad and deep level of aid and development expertise available to him in DFID and other parts of the UK civil service, along with a large professional UK-based aid and development community, and a significant proportion of global academic development expertise based in the UK; and that the country he leads has a tradition of international humanitarianism.
Good news too, that this is all happening after, and can thus draw on the deep and comprehensive work done by the World Bank for its 2011 World Development Report on Development and Security, which laid bare some of the tired misconceptions of how development happens in places where there’s not yet the rule of law or responsible, responsive and representative governance. The ongoing International Dialogue on Peacebuilding and Statebuilding has also produced some useful interim work on how to promote the emergence of peaceful and effective states, on which the new High Level Panel must draw.
Even better news however, that Cameron is not personally an aid or overseas development expert; and nor is Yudhoyono. Because, as I’ve argued before, the great limitation of aid experts is that we tend to have a rather narrow view of the possibilities of development and aid, constrained as we are by our own experiences and by the vested interests of our organisations and allegiances. The co-chairs will be better able to see the wood from the trees if they avoid surrounding themselves too tightly with the usual ODA suspects.
And finally, this is presumably good news for UK-based and -linked groups wanting to influence the post-MDGs agenda – including the global coalition Beyond 2015. How then should we use this opportunity of access to the co-chair of the commission? Here are ten initial ideas.
1. Scope: it’s time for a truly global framework. This is a brilliant opportunity, at a time when globalisation, environmental limits, and climate change really do imply that we are all in it together, to develop a framework which applies globally – not just to poor countries. This means coming up with a framework which is relevant throughout the world, and which avoids objectifying poorer nations. It also recognises that all nations have significant problems to overcome, and different comparative advantages in the overarching global progress project. This approach would also help take the conversation away from a narrow focus on aid.
2. Frame this project around human progress, not aid. Whatever people might say, the MDGs are really about aid, not development; they only really apply to aid-recipient countries, and their real purpose has always been as a spur to increase aid flows and focus them on a few generic issues. That has not worked well: they haven’t served the purpose of mobilising politicians, civil society, businesses and civil servants to develop sustainable development strategies based on a comprehensive context analysis and political vision for change. Instead, because they are so narrow and aid-focused, they’ve probably impeded the development of a broad and far-reaching vision for change in some countries.
3. Timing: take it slow. A very visible and rather contentious high level panel is the kind of scenario in which civil servants and sherpas will typically encourage the leaders to set out an aggressive calendar to pre-form the outcomes much too early in the process. Of course, that’s their job. But in this case they should resist business as usual. Two main points to make here. First, it really doesn’t matter if we have something finalised in time for the 2015 UN General Assembly or not; the world will not stop turning, and development policies, funds and strategies will not grind to a halt. Second, it’s absolutely critical to cast the ideas net as widely as possible before coming up with potential models for discussion. This is a large and diverse world, in which that will take time. And the prize is well worth the waiting. Indeed, in some ways the debate is far more important than the final product.
4. Preparation: get out there and start listening, and avoid formulating specific proposals for as long as you can. The Panel needs to spend at least the next two years simply looking around at and listening to people’s ideas, and consulting widely. It’s important to canvas a whole range of ideas from a wide range of sources, from poor and marginalised people to elites, from political oppositions to incumbents, from NGOs to the UNDP, from insurgent rebels to the militias fighting them, from local businesses to multi-nationals, from scientists to philosophers, from novelists to historians, from children to mums and dads, from heterosexuals to homosexuals, from farmers to hedge fund managers, from Cubans to Americans and Greeks to Germans, from Keynesians to the Chicago School, Moslems to Christians, from migrant labourers to the rentier classes, from the Chinese Communist Party to the American Republican Party, from immigrants to indigenous people, from islanders to continentals, from the Taleban to the US Marines, from DFID to the FCO… and yes, let’s even ask both the Occupy protesters and the bankers what they think.
… And ideally of course, these different groups – and others – need to be brought together to discuss and confront each others’ ideas so the dialectic process can do its work. This is quite a challenge, and it will take time and resources – and excellent project management. Perhaps the greatest challenge will be to find the best marriage between technical and political views of development progress, and between different ideological views. But it’s important not to shy away from ideological debate, as development practitioners have often tried to do in the past.
5. Get the purpose right, so form follows function. There are plenty of people and institutions out there who seem to know what the post-MDGs framework should look like; and of course each of them is pushing a particular agenda. No harm in that, but the first question the Panel needs to answer is: What is the purpose of the new framework? Form should follow function, after all.
In my view the purpose of any global post-MDGs framework should not be to set out precise goals and indicators as with the MDGs. It would be more useful to create a broader vision of how people in different contexts can be better governed and live more prosperous, peaceful and fulfilling lives. Specific countries and institutions can then use these for inspiration as they determine their own goals and strategies.
One clue as to how to frame our aspirations is to imagine how historians in a hundred years might frame the history of human progress in 2015-2030. Put simply, development planning is history looking forwards.
6. Take time to learn what was good and what not so good about the MDGs. There’s masses of literature on this, but I think it’s widely agreed that the MDGs have significant strengths and weaknesses, among which:
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7. Don’t aim for a fine level of detail. Last time around, not many people were paying attention to the MDGs as they were developed and agreed. There were a lot of other things going on. So the framers were able to push their product through without too much fuss and argument. This time, every UN agency is already preparing its pitch; Rio-plus-twenty will produce a pitch; every lobby you can imagine will be figuring out what it wants to see and – perhaps more importantly – what it doesn’t want to see included. It will be very hard to get agreement on detail except at the lowest common denominator level. So aim for something broader. But for goodness sake don’t base your ambition on what can most easily be agreed: this issue is more important than easy consensus. It’s worth arguing about.
8. Don’t base yourself only on what we already know how to do: there is so much we still have to learn – the UK still hasn’t figured out how to provide free mass public education effectively, even though it’s the sixth biggest economy and has been “developed” for quite some time now.
9. While thinking outside the box and casting the net widely, nevertheless take care to identify what’s already agreed. A good place to start might be the 2000 Millennium Declaration, which is pretty comprehensive – certainly far more so that the narrow and prescriptive MDGs.
10. Above all, avoid simply injecting new momentum behind the existing MDGs, as has been proposed by some, on the grounds that they haven’t yet been achieved and because it will be hard to find consensus on a better model. That would be a cop-out. Two presidents and a prime minister leading a high level panel should be in a strong enough position not to cop-out.
Unpicking the language of the New Deal
International aid donors and the poorer governments they fund have overlapping, but far from identical interests. They overlap in their common desire to spend donor money in support of development progress, broadly put. But they often differ on what are the best development choices, and on issues like the need or opportunity for compliance with human rights and good financial stewardship norms. Meanwhile donors have to pay attention to their tax-payers’ and media opinions about aid if they want to stay in office, while recipient governments are often keen to use aid money to oil the patronage systems that they hope will keep them in power. (It’s an over-simplification, but broadly accurate to distinguish between politicians in the West being “in office”, whereas those in many poorer countries where the offices of state have yet to become institutionalised are more likely to be simply “in power”.)
The overlap between the interests of donor and recipient governments is often quite narrow, but they usually conspire to present it publicly – and perhaps also to themselves – in ways which make it seem much wider, and to minimise their differences. (The Paris Declaration is a good example.) It’s politics, after all. And as in politics more generally, one way they do this is by finding formulas of words amenable to different interpretations. Last year’s agreement between the governments of 19 conflict-affected and “fragile” countries (the g7+), and many of the main bilateral and multi-lateral donors is a case in point. As I’ve discussed in an earlier post, the International Dialogue on Peacebuilding and Statebuilding (IDPS) produced two key high level outputs last year: a set of five Peacebuilding and Statebuilding Goals (PSGs), and the New Deal for Engagement in Fragile States.
Choice of words matters
The five PSGs are pretty good. True, they are skewed more towards statebuilding than peacebuilding, but they are intellectually cogent. They cover legitimate politics, livelihoods, taxation and government services, security and justice. Taken together, they provide a useful generic framework in which to plan and monitor progress in the evolution of peaceful and peace-promoting states which are both responsible and responsive to the societies in which they sit. I.e. less fragile, in the current jargon; or more resilient.
The New Deal also seems to tick many of the right boxes. It refers to the PSGs, defines a generic process for reducing fragility, and talks about a partnership between fragile country governments and donors. But after reading it more closely, it is easy to be sceptical. The document is quite schizophrenic. It seems to have been written using the language of peaceful, responsible and responsive statebuilding from the donors’ perspective, while for the governments of fragile countries it seems to be more about making sure that donors agree to give them the money in support of their plans to build their states. The difficulty with the latter is that such governments are – by the definitions of the PSGs they have signed up to – not yet fully legitimate representatives of their people. So by implication one should not simply take their plans as being the right plans. In this sense the New Deal is redolent of and a worthy descendant of earlier fudged incarnations such as the Paris Declaration on Aid Effectiveness and the Accra Agenda for Action. Just as with those earlier agreements between donors and developing country governments, the pitfalls of the New Deal might be superficially hidden by a clever use of words.
I can see three kinds of problem with the use of language in the New Deal: political sleight of hand, sheer wrongheadedness where generic language has been used without due attention to operationability, and the unhelpful choice of words. All of which undermine the high purpose which the New Deal purports to promote.
1. POLITICAL SLEIGHT OF HAND – the choice of verbs reveals a lot
By sleight of hand I mean cases where the document at first seems to use the right language – claiming the broad overlap between donors’ and fragile governments’ interests – but where on closer inspection the language used reveals the narrowness of the overlap and even undermines it. In fact this is the main problem with language in the New Deal.
A blatant example appears on page one, which introduces the idea of a partnership – a “deal” – between fragile countries, donors and intergovernmental organisations (IGOs). At first sight the language is good, with its references to mutual trust, peacebuilding and statebuilding goals, constructive state-society relations, and so on.
But hold on a minute, even on page one the underlying use of words gives away who is really committing to what – and it’s pretty clear that the high-minded purpose of the IDPS is under threat. The document is supposed to represent the commitment of fragile states, donors and IGOs to a common purpose. But when it describes their commitment to “support inclusive country-led and country-owned transitions out of fragility…” it is quite clearly signposting that the commitment is being made by the donors and IGOs, not by fragile state governments themselves. The use of the verb support gives it away: if the g7+ governments were truly committed to transitions out of fragility, they would be using verbs like “lead”, not “support”. Similarly on page three the g7+ governments only commit themselves to “support political dialogue and leadership” – … er, if they don’t commit to provide leadership on this, surely there is something missing here, and their commitment is in great doubt?
Another nice touch is in the use of the word “country” as the modifier of a number of critical phrases. Transitions will be “country-led and country-owned”, in pursuit of a “country-led .. vision and … plan”, and a “country-compact [will] … implement the plan”. This language reflects a genuine challenge, and the importance of widening the circle beyond the government, its allies, and external donors. But although the document does clearly cite the need for mechanisms of participation, these do not come across very powerfully as a fundamental component of the New Deal, which mostly appears to use “country” to mean “government”.
In the printed document of around 160 lines, I only counted 16 or 10% which had clear references to mechanisms for participation, and in truth these are mostly generic statements of aspiration, whose light tone belies the difficulties involved in meeting them. By contrast, the entire document constantly repeats and reinforces the need for cooperation between donors and fragile state governments – after all it is a New Deal between them, while civil society is on the outside, looking in.
There is a 12-line paragraph on the proposed “compact” between governments and citizens of fragile countries and their international partners, on how to reduce fragility. This gives lip service to the need for citizen participation, citing the need for a “broad range of views from multiple stakeholders and the public, to be reviewed annually through a multi-stakeholder forum” – as though that were the simplest thing to achieve in a country like the DRC for example. The ten remaining lines of the paragraph are then deivted entierly to the details of the far simpler arrangements for donor-government collaboration. The underlying message is clear: citizen participation is a good thing, but less important than donor-government collaboration.
In similar vein, the document declares a joint commitment to “support the greater transparency of fiscal systems”. Again, it hardly seems enough for the g7+ governments to support greater transparency – they should be implementing, or ensuring, or improving transparency….. So it’s clear that the actual commitment is from donors (for whom support is a very relevant verb in this context), while the g7+ governments have made no worthwhile commitment at all. Meanwhile, as if to confirm that transparency is really the business of international aid, rather than a critical aspect of good governance, the reference point for transparency is the International Aid Transparency Initiative (IATI). The IATI is doubtless a worthy international effort to make aid more transparent. But let’s be clear that in the context of the New Deal it is merely a distraction from the far more important national and local, constitutionally-based transparency standards which citizens of fragile countries need if they are to hold their governments to account. One would have to think that the g7+ governments are once again failing to make a worthwhile commitment.
All in all, the underlying message seems clear: donors commit to support democratic improvements, while g7+ governments commit to very little indeed.
2. WRONGHEADED IDEAS which are impossible to implement as stated, thus undermining the integrity of the New Deal
The second category of interesting language in this flawed document is what I call wrongheaded ideas: the inclusion of ideas which haven’t yet been fully developed, or perhaps on which there was insufficient agreement on the detail; and which therefore don’t stand up to scrutiny. Those who endorsed the New Deal agreed to use the generic PSG indicators to monitor progress in specific countries. But this is an elementary mistake. The right way to monitor and hold stakeholders to account for making progress in reducing fragility in a specific country is by the use of indicators developed to measure the goals and strategies of the country plan, based on the country fragility assessment. Generic indicators are only useful for measuring generic progress – and might be quite irrelevant in some places. It is hard to imagine the governments and people of Afghanistan, South Sudan, Liberia, Central African Republic, Sierra Leone, East Timor and the DR Congo (the seven pilot countries) all devising the same pathway out of fragility. Therefore it is hard to imagine a generic set of indicators being very useful in measuring their progress. Does this agreement to use ineffective indicators undermine the sense of commitment? I think it does, whether by artful design or accident.
3. UNHELPFUL LANGUAGE impedes ownership and participation, and lessens the potential for success
A third category is what we might call unhelpful language. A premise of the New Deal is the idea that fragile states, fragile countries, fragile contexts or fragile societies – all these phrases have been used over the past few years, and probably others too – lack the capacity to manage their differences and conflicts successfully and without violence. Screeds of documents have been written about this, and fragility has proven in some circumstances to be a useful metaphor.
But like other metaphors which are designed to aid communication, it can also unhelpfully impede communication. It’s unpalatable for political leaders to have their countries, their states, and by implication their own governments, described in what seem like pejorative terms. This creates a political difficulty which will be hard to overcome when developing “a country-led assessment on the causes and features of fragility”; and a difficulty which can easily be exploited by spoilers to derail or undermine the process. I’m sure you can imagine the headlines in newspapers owned by governments or their allies: “Who do they think they are, calling us fragile? We reject outside interference.”…
This difficulty can be mitigated by focusing on positives and aspirations, rather than on negatives. If fragility is at one end of a spectrum, then resilience is at the other. If fragility provides a framework for problematising, then resilience provides a framework for creating a positive vision and plan for a better future; and without the pejorative baggage that comes with being forced to describe ones context as “fragile”. Hence, it would be far easier for governments and others to conduct a joint resilience assessment, than a joint fragility assessment. This would be positive, forward-looking, inspirational and aspirational, rather than negative and problematising. It would give governments, politicians, civil society and their international partners something to aim for, rather than something to reject; and it would be simpler and less difficult to communicate widely to the population at large. Above all, it makes logical policy sense to identify and build on the resilience mechanisms already there – every society has them – rather than start with an analysis of their absence.
Conclusions?
Perhaps this analysis is unkind; if so, its lack of generosity is born of my own scepticism derived from monitoring earlier agreements. Nor is my intention here to criticise the drafters – no doubt they did as they were bid. Let me say very clearly that the New Deal represents much good work, and a platform to build on. The idea of complementing poverty reduction and economic development objectives with a more politically oriented focus and on justice and security is something for which I have long argued, and it is very welcome. There are many other good ideas contained in the New Deal – the focus on concrete results, the references to parliamentary monitoring and the need for a more legitimate politics, and many more. Even if the idea of a Compact, organised around “one vision, one plan” may not be realistic in the real world, it’s a commendable aspiration and is an idea which can evolve differently in different settings. So please don’t take my comments as being wholly negative.
What I wanted to clarify is that this document of agreement is also a document of divergence. There is nothing intrinsically wrong with that in the field of international politics and diplomacy, provided we don’t – as happened with the MDGs, or with the Paris Declaration – start to over-sell or over-believe the rhetoric of agreement, and thus act illogically. There is a long way to go yet.
In fact, the New Deal and the PSGs probably do provide a good basis for continued discussion between outsiders (donors and INGOs) with their particular interests, and representatives of fragile state governments with theirs. One reason for this is that they are written in a way which gives incompetent and semi-legitimate governments a let-out. Because the PSGs emphasise the structural – i.e. historical, hard-to-shift, before-I-came-to-power – causes of fragility, they allow fragile state governments the opportunity to say, and with some veracity, “you can’t blame us for being semi-legitimate, and unresponsive to our electorate: that’s the best one could hope for in Rwanda [or Liberia, or South Sudan, etc….] today. We’re working on it.” The test, of course, is on whether they are actually “working on it”, and if so, whether they have the right vision and plan of action in mind. Which is where the country-specific compacts, assessments and pathways-out-of-fragility plans come in.
If the New Deal is to be useful for people living in g7+ countries, I would suggest that it should not be taken too literally as an agreement of principle, but as the basis on which practical plans and agreements can be developed in specific country contexts. In that respect it can be used as a framework in which civil society and forward-thinking members of governments can persuade their more conservative counterparts to explore policy and strategic approaches to improving resilience (instead of overcoming fragility) and thus enabling peaceful development. Donors and IGOs might also want to support these, if they can do so without undermining them. But I hope the main channels for pursuing the PSGs in South Sudan, East Timor, Liberia, Sierra Leone, Central African Republic, Afghanistan, the DR Congo and elsewhere are not seen as aid, but as public policy, civil society and business initiatives. Ultimately, the New Deal will be useful if is used honestly as a framework within which to seek practical agreement; and useless if treated as an agreed framework which just needs to be operationalised.
A luta continua.
Crisis management or peacebuilding in West Africa?
Yesterday Charles Taylor was convicted by the Special Court for Sierra Leone, for his role in fomenting and prolonging civil war and violence in that country. Meanwhile ECOWAS, the West African regional economic community (REC), decided to send troops to Guinea Bissau and Mali to enforce a return to civilian rule following recent coups there. Two reminders of the need for regional and international vigilance and a willingness to act, given the fragility of democratic rule and institutions in many countries in Africa.
ECOWAS was instrumental in restoring order to Sierra Leone and Liberia in the past, and thus in removing Charles Taylor from power, and is one of the strongest RECs in the world when it comes to crisis management. More than most of its peer organisations, it seems to combine a capacity to intervene in high level diplomacy – as it also did over Guinea Conakry a couple of years back – with a willingness to send in troops. Let’s hope that this combination of political intervention and military threat will work in favour of the citizens of Mali and Guinea Bissau this time.
What both ECOWAS and the African Union (AU) are not yet so good at, is working to reduce the likelihood of these crises by improving the resilience of their member states. It is one thing to intervene in a crisis, but quite another to support long-term peacebuilding. The former requires authority, skill and the threat of a big stick. The latter is far more subtle; and is made harder by the resistance of member state governments to “interference” by international clubs of which they are members.
With hindsight, the coup in Mali was predictable. The peace agreement signed between Tuaregs and Bamako in the early 1990s was in many ways an elite bargain: patronage for Tuareg leaders in return for an end to civil war. “You leave us alone in our northern drylands, and we’ll cease confronting your state of which we feel no part”. As such it was unsustainable and needed to be followed up with a major programme of development initiatives to create alternative livelihoods and better governance in northern Mali: to incentivise Tuaregs to become citizens of Mali through the flexible provision of services and opportunities for peaceful political and economic participation. Not easy, but necessary. But this programme, such as it was, was derailed by three major and clearly visible factors:
- The international fear of Sahel-based Islamic terrorism pushed Mali’s donors to skew their support for the country towards repressive measures in the north of the country
- The Latin American drug cartels began smuggling huge quantities of their products through Mali to Europe, creating huge opportunities for the criminal involvement of the state and local leaders; and further skewing donor support
- The toppling of Colonel Ghaddafi pushed his well-armed Tuareg allies back into Mali.
Simply put, these three factors upset the fragile and unsustainable political settlement achieved in 1995. New donor incentives and drug-related rents gradually persuaded Bamako to renege on its 1995 commitments (at least as seen from the north); competition for drug-related opportunities probably undermined the settlement among the Tuaregs too; meanwhile well-armed Tuaregs returning from Libya had the incentives and the means to muscle their way in to a political settlement from which they felt excluded.
The result is now history. The important lesson from this is the need for RECs and the AU to put far more effort into long-term peacebuilding than they do into crisis management. Military coups have been far less frequent in recent years, but this should not kid us into thinking the democratic institutions are yet resilient enough to survive. A concerted effort is still needed to transform the way West Africans experience issues of power, economic opportunity, security, access to justice and to the basic services they need for their well-being. Short-term political settlements are seldom sustainable in themsleves over the long term, and need to be adjusted as circumstances change; and they need to be seen as steps on the way to an institutionalisation of politics, even though that may take many years to emerge, and cannot be over-rushed simply because we want it.
Trouble in paradise?
The news of a military mutiny, possibly a coup, in Mali is being reported on the BBC World Service in terms of damaging “a beacon of democracy in the region”. This takes me back to the mid-1990s when I lived in Bamako. Malians were then experimenting with democracy after years of dictatorship and I wondered how succesful this would be.
By chance, I happened to read Eric Hobsbawm’s book The Age of Extremes which was published then, in a chapter of which he explored the resilience of democracy in Europe between the two world wars. As I recall, he framed his analysis within four factors which he deemed structurally necessary for democracy to survive the political, economic and social stresses which were prevalent in Europe in the 1930s. These were wealth, tolerance, decentralisation and a sense that people’s citizenship of the country – France, Britain, Germany, say – prevailed over other aspects of identity such as protestant, catholic, Bavarian, working class, etc. How did Mali look, and how does Mali look, when viewed through these four analytical lenses?
Wealth
Mali was very poor then, and remains very poor now. GDP per capita is around $1200 at purchasing power parity, up from about $850 in the late 1990s, so growth has been strong. But using Hobsbawm’s assumption you need to be somewhat comfortably off, as a nation, to have a resilient democracy, Mali always seemed vulnerable, and still does. The majority of Malians worked on the land then, and still do so, which confers some resilience provided the rains are adequate and the locusts stay away. The Gini score for wealth distribution was 50 in 1994 and has improved to 40 today (Sweden is 23 and Sierra Leone 62). If GDP and wealth distribution are taken into account, democracy looked vulnerable in the 1990s and still does today, despite improvements.
Tolerance
Hobsbawm’s idea was that in a resilient democracy, people in the minority must accept and tolerate as legitimate, a situation in which their political choices are superseded – through elections – by those of the majority. Meanwhile the majority has to accept that even if its candidate has won the election, he or she must govern in the interests of everyone, including those who voted against. This always seemed difficult to me in Mali in the 1990s, as I wondered how people could have this sense of “adherence” without being brought up in a democracy, which Malians had not been then. Now, of course, many Malians do have several years of democracy under their belt, and have been fairly well-led by presidents willing to relinquish office through election. Looking back, I also think that Mali had something else going for it on this score, because there is a genuine sense of mutual tolerance within Malian society – except perhaps in and vis-a-vis the north – a sense of live-and-let-live, and of being content and confident enough of one’s own identity to accept others. Perhaps therefore on this criterion of tolerance, Mali scored higher than I then thought back in the 1990s, and higher still today. The fly in the ointment is certainly the north, where actual or potential Tuareg insurgency has always been a feature of Mali’s history, and has been dealt with outside democratic politics, through a combination of military action and short-term political-economic deals. These have not just disrupted democracy in the north, but nationally.
Decentralisation
Hobsbawm’s view was that democracy is more resilient in a decentralised polity, because decentralised decision-making means the central executive has less to do, and can therefore be held to account more effectively by parliament. In a more centralised system, there is simply too much national government going on for MPs to be able to keep up. In this respect, Mali probably scored quite well, and still scores well today, as the country is governed very locally using quite traditional systems in many respects, and the national government has limited means at its disposal with which to interfere. Civil society in Mali is so strong it is almost tangible – one can almost touch the web of interlocking relationships between people, and Mali is rich in social capital.
Identifying with the nation
And so to Hobsbwam’s final criterion: that people should identify themselves as Malians above their sense of their other identities – membership of an ethnic group, for example. I am not sure if most Malians would declare themselves Malians first and foremost, and ethnic identity remains very strong in what is a diverse patchwork of tribes, castes, etc. Nevertheless I always felt in the 1990s, and this is still true today, that mutual tolerance among Malians is one of Mali’s strongest qualities with regards the resilience of democracy. There is a genuine historical sense that Mali exists as a natural nation, rather than simply as a creation of European colonists like so many other African countries. The north, of course, is the part of Mali where this rings less true.
______
So, looking at these four criteria, one might suggest that Mali today scores one out of three for wealth, and two out of three for tolerance, decentralisation and national identity. Thus – from Hobsbawm’s structuralist perspective – there is every chance that the apparent coup will be reversed and progress towards democracy resumed.
The difficulty is the north: many people in the north see Mali as another country, with a distant state which consistently fails them, and therefore to which they do not feel allegiance. It is a vicious spiral. Yet the “northern problem” is too seldom viewed in terms of improving the sense of citizenship among people in the north. Malians from the south, their government and its foreign backers too often see the north in terms only of insecurity, terrorism, international drug smuggling, innate backwardness and as a set of problems which are somehow not “Malian” but “northern”, “Sahelian” or “other”. Thus policy is designed instrumentally to resolve northern issues as though they were not part of the Malian mainstream; and while perhaps providing a temporary solution to the problem as presented today, thus reinforces the separation of northern people from the state and from their fellow Malians in the centre and the south.
I hope that the military mutiny will be reversed, and without bloodshed. I think it will. Mali deserves to continue the progress towards democracy which started with the courageous citizen uprising of 1991 against Moussa Traoré. The mutineers appear to be motivated by the lack of resources provided to the army in its current fight against northern rebels who have recently beaten them back in a series of attacks, and humiliated them by occupying northern towns and barracks. This rebellion is a symptom of underlying stresses which are threatening democracy and testing its resilience. But the deal which will be done with the mutineers to persuade them to back off and hand power back to President “ATT” Touré must not be based simply on giving them the firepower to beat the rebels: it needs to be seen as part of a long-term process of nation building which brings all Malians, including those in the north, into a responsible and responsive relationship with the state and with their fellow Malians further south. Otherwise the “northern problem” will continue to undermine democracy and will continue to reduce the degree to which Mali – taken as a whole – scores highly against Eric Hobsbawm’s four criteria of democratic resilience.
Kony 2012 – is slacktivism enough?
The International Criminal Court (ICC) today handed down its first verdict in the ten years since it was established, when it found Congolese militia leader Thomas Lubanga guilty of a range of horrendous war crimes. That’s a good and a bad piece of news.
Good because it’s about time people were punished within some kind of rule of law for committing the kind of crimes Lubanga did. Good because it’s about time the ICC got a result. Bad because he should have been brought to book in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) where he did it – justice which takes places thousands of miles away has far less impact on the society where the crimes were done; and is therefore less “just”. And bad also, because it should not have taken ten years for the ICC to achieve its first result – that’s got to be a failure of design or execution.
Interesting that the Lubunga case should come to an end now, just while the infamous Kony 2012 video is doing its rounds. You’ve no doubt heard of this video, which advocates US military action in support of the arrest of Joseph Kony, ICC-indicted Ugandan leader of the Lords Resistance Army (LRA), a militia group once active in Northern Uganda but now roaming around South Sudan, the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) and Central African Republic (CAR). Perhaps you are one of the 78 million plus people who have watched the video so far, or one of the countless others who have heard or read expert commentators denouncing it as counterproductive, neo-imperialist, exploitative or just plain naïve. I watched it this morning, after hearing a debate about it on the BBC.
I should declare an interest: I work for a peacebuilding organisation active in Uganda; which I joined after working in Uganda for five years, much of which I spent trying to contribute to peace in Northern Uganda, which the LRA at that time terrorised constantly, attacking villages and internment camps, abducting and abusing children, brutally killing and causing mayhem and havoc. The LRA were finally pushed (or pulled) out of Uganda a few years ago, but my joy at the return to relative peace there after twenty-five years was tempered by the news that Kony had taken his marauders to the DRC, South Sudan and CAR, where they have carried on abducting, killing and causing mayhem to this day.
Well-equipped with GPS technology and arms, they thrive in the remote, ill-governed circumstances where they now find themselves; where the state is ill-equipped or ill-disposed to protect people, and where Kony and his lieutenants can easily exploit local and regional rivalries to act as mercenaries on behalf of one armed group or another, as their price for being left alone or perhaps re-armed. The Ugandan People’s Defence Force has hunted and harried the LRA for years inside and outside Uganda, and has captured and killed many. But they have always failed to get Kony himself, and he constantly replenishes his numbers through further rounds of brutal forced recruitment from wherever he happens to be at the time.
So I watched the 30 minute video with interest and – I must admit – the expectation that I’d not like it, after what I’d heard the experts say on the radio and in the press. It’s a simple film, which tells six simple stories.
A film of six stories
The main story is that of the American film maker Jason Russell. He went to Uganda ten years ago, was deeply affected by the stories of the young Ugandans he filmed, whose lives had been severely disrupted, and some of then deeply traumatised by the experience of civil war. In his own anger and sorrow he promised one young boy named Jacob, and recorded this on film, that he personally would stop Kony. Since then he appears to have devoted his life to helping children in Northern Uganda through a charity called Invisible Children, and campaigning for the US military to help find and arrest Kony.
The second story is the story of Jacob. Jason only gave Jacob a walk-on part. His role in the plot was to provide the emotional spur to motivate Jason’s own commitment to the cause; and also flying to America to motivate others (more of that later). It’s a pity he has such a small part, as he seems to have a powerful story to tell, and hopefully one of recovery after the terrible experience of seeing his brother murdered.
The third story is that of Jason’s young son, who is blonde like his father and must be about five or six years old. Jason uses him to tell the story of Jason – who as explained by his son spends a lot of time in Africa making things right. Like his Dad, he is young and naïve. Unlike his Dad, he’s of an age where one is supposed to be young and naïve.
The fourth story is that of the thousands of other young people, mostly Americans – disturbingly dressed at times in identical uniforms and chanting uniform slogans uniformly – who appear to have signed up to help Jason in his cause…
… which is the defeat and arrest of Joseph Kony, by American soldiers authorised by the US Congress. And Kony is of course the fifth story, and by far the simplest of all. Kony is at the top of the ICC’s most wanted list, and is quite simply a Bad Man who does Bad Things. As Jason’s innocent young son says: go get the bad guy, Dad.
And so to the sixth story: this is the story of the campaign of which the video is a part. For Jason and the Invisible Children organisation, 2012 is the year to bring Kony to justice, and this will happen because Jason and his thousands of activists, and the twelve celebrities and twelve politicians they are recruiting for their cause, simply want it to happen, and they insist that the US Congress commits the US army to help catch Kony this year. The film is slickly edited with nice graphics, and no less an authority than actor George Cloony declares his support. Angelina Jolie is somewhere in there too. We are exhorted to share the video with our friends and spread the word; and there is a kit full of Kony 2012 bracelets, stickers and posters you can send in for (or at least you could until the amazing success of this viral video meant they ran out of Kony 2012 kits).
Naive, neo-imperialist and offensive?
It is easy to sneer, and many have . One wants to be generous, as Jason’s heart is in the right place; and from its website, Invisible Children does appear to have made some sensible project choices (education, livelihoods, etc.) But there is plenty wrong with the film. First, it comes across across as very naïve indeed. Did Jason really think that Ugandans would welcome a film which implies they need help from a bunch of American idealists and can’t sort out their own problems? No wonder they’ve accused him of being offensive and neo-imperialist. In an ungenerous moment, I allowed myself to be reminded of Hollywood films about Africa which almost always seem to give the only real parts (roles with depth and agency) to the white guys from the USA or Europe – as with the Leonardo Di Caprio character in Blood Diamonds – while the African characters are often merely ciphers.
The film is also quite extraordinary in the absence of any contextual information – or even many facts, come to think of it. Apart from a map showing where Uganda is, the film is pretty much devoid of history or geography; or, indeed, biography since apart from Jason, no-one else’s story is really told, not even Kony’s! There is no attempt to explain the state of Uganda at the time the LRA emerged, its earlier history of civil war, or the ill-feeling between the north and other parts. Nothing is said of the resentment felt by many Nothern Ugandans against the government of President Museveni who some northeners saw as having ousted them from power.
The American military has been assisting the UPDF in its search for Kony for a decade without much success, but that was not said in the film. And the film’s throw-away mention that Kony is at the top of the ICC’s wanted list is correct – but only in the sense that he was the ICC’s first ever case, not because he is the “most wanted”.
And as for the Kony 2012 campaign itself: all it asks people to do is watch and share a video, and perhaps send off for a Kony 2012 kit. That reminds me of writing to the Chinese and Cuban London embassies for free Mao Tse-Tung Red Books and A Luta Continua revolutionary posters to decorate my bedroom as a teenager in the 1970s – I got the cool posters and the little red book, but it didn’t make me an activist. People have called this “slacktivism” – the sense that you’ve done something worthwhile just by watching and sharing a video on your laptop. It does seem to demean the suffering of people in Uganda, South Sudan, the DRC and CAR to reduce your activism on their behalf to something you can do in an armchair with no risk or sacrifice.
Ultimately, there is no doubt in my mind that the film is naïve, and it misrepresents the situation in a dangerously simplistic way as though there were a military-only solution, and as though only America can solve the problem. And it sends a strong subliminal message that for those of us sitting with our laptops far away, all we need to do is spend 30 minutes watching a video and then send the link to our friends (thus “taking part” in the campaign). We don’t need to think about politics, or about whether the way we live our laptop-enriched lives contributes in any way to the global injustice whereby boys like Jacob can have their lives potentially ruined because of poor governance and security where they happen to live.
And this is a pity, because the beauty of our inter-connected world is that we do have the technology and mechanisms to communicate a more complete and accurate picture. The beauty of our educated world is that more and more people have a level of education which allows them to understand a more sophisticated and nuanced analysis of poverty and political fragility, if we only chose to share it with them instead of feeding them simplistic versions which frankly insult their intelligence.
I have no qualms in recognising there is a military component to solving the Joseph Kony problem: it’s always been pretty obvious that he’s nothing much to gain by giving himself up. And that he continues to enjoy support and protection from others. If the Ugandan army wants US military assistance, that too makes sense to me. After all, they have the technology and know-how. The ICC like any justice system needs to be able to arraign those it indicts: it needs some teeth. (It is somewhat ironic that the US, which regards itself as above the jurisdiction of the ICC, is providing this service regarding Kony.)
But please, let’s not reduce it only to that. The problem is one of poor governance, insecurity and under-development, and it will take a concerted effort over many years to resolve. Even after Kony is arrested and taken off the scene, it will leave a gap exploitable by other Bad Guys. Proper governance and security won’t be achieved in 2012, and certainly not just by watching a half-hour video clip.
It’s something of a truism that the Reintegration component of Disarmament, Demobilisation and Reintegration (DDR) programmes for ex-combatants is often the hardest part to get right. Provided the politics and security situation are conducive, it’s often not that much of a push to disband and retrieve at least some of the weapons from armed groups. But the tricky business of helping ex-soldiers and militia members back into civilian life has long bedevilled the international and national agencies responsible.
Some of them have committed acts of violence against their own communities, even their own families. Some were recruited – often press-ganged – as children and have been educated into violence and institutionalised into the command structure and brotherhood of their units. In many cases, the economy into which they are supposed to “return” and find a place is threadbare – sometimes that was one of the contributory factors to the very conflict in which they fought. Many – often most – have little in the way of practical skills to offer in the peacetime jobs market. Many are traumatised by what they have seen and done. Girls and women frequently face even more of a challenge than their male counterparts in returning to civilian life.
A lot of wars have ended over the last twenty years – it’s one of the dividends of the end of the Cold War. A large international industry has grown up around DDR. Unfortunately, the “R” component has often failed to work well. Reasons for this vary from context to context. But we can identify some of the more generic ones. Skills training is often provided, but is ill-matched to the actual jobs and self-employment opportunities which exist in the market. Being trained as a plumber in a place without running water, as a fish farmer in an area without a market infrastructure for selling fish, or as a hairdresser when the ratio of salons to customers is already high, is not much help for a young man or women trying to adjust to civilian life. Indeed, when participation in these training and rehabilitation programmes leads only to unemployment, it can be even more demoralising to ex-combatants than if they had received no training at all.
Often the programme planners fail to involve the soon-to-be ex-combatants in planning the programmes they are supposed to benefit from – where do they plan to go? what would they like to do? what networks do they have? – so the service providers fail to address their real interests and needs. Frequently they also fail to consult businesses to find out what kinds of skills they need, and what opportunities they might provide. Meanwhile, seldom are many ex-combatants provided with the one-on-one attention and advice many of them need, and for some, the psychological help they need to come to terms with what they have seen and done. Not only is such help too expensive to provide, but the number of clinical psychologists in many war-torn countries tends to be low.
The fact is, it is devilishly hard to help some ex-combatants back into civilian life, whether in the USA, Liberia or Sri Lanka. In the end, “reintegration” is something far too complex to reduce down to a simple “project”. And it is doubly hard for those working in the UN and other international institutions to do so, because their systems for project design, approval and implementation are so rigid, and so slow when they should be quick, and quick when they should be slow. And because it is hard for them to engage in the post war politics which also play such an important role in defining what is and isn’t possible.
The case of Nepal
So it is interesting to see what has been happening in Nepal. The Maoist rebellion ended with a peace agreement in 2006, which among other things called for around 23,000 People’s Liberation Army fighters to be housed in cantonments, pending the integration of a proportion of them into the Nepalese army. The rest were to be disarmed, demobilised and reintegrated. Politics has slowed this process down. One issue under discussion has been whether to provide the first 7,400 or so people opting for demobilisation, and who are now leaving cantonments under the DDR scheme, simply with a cash payment, or with a more internationally typical “package” of training and assistance, plus a smaller pay-out. Eventually, the total number demobilising will rise to about 13,000, once a second round of demobilisation happens.
The international agencies – such as donors and UN – involved in these discussions with the government and other Nepalese stakeholders, have been adamant that the ex-combatants should get the “package”. As far as I understand things, this is partly because they have a genuine fear that unleashing all these ex-combatants with money in their pockets and insufficient preparation will destabilise Nepalese communities and society; partly because they fear for the safety of those who fail to reintegrate successfully or are subject to revenge attacks – and especially of the more vulnerable among them.
One international representative explained in a meeting in Kathmandu last week that donors were concerned about the “fiduciary integrity” of the funds provided to ex-combatants – presumably code for a worry that some of the recipients might be “taxed” by the Maoist party to which they presumably still owe loyalty, or by other factions or gangs. As it turns out, the cash payments (around 500,000 – 800,000 Nepalese Rupees or $6,000 – $10,000 each, five to eight times Nepal’s per capita GDP at purchasing power parity) are being funded by the Nepalese government, not external donors. But since money is by definition fungible, and donors are paying for other elements of the peace deal, it is easy to see why donors and the UN feel they have an interest in this issue.
The libertarian in me says why not just give them the cash? They are adults, they have borne arms, many among them have lived and fought in difficult conditions over a number of years – why should they not be able to fend for themselves in civilian life now? With half a million rupees each at their disposal, most of them should be able to buy some land, build a small house or a business, or fund their entry into the large pool of Nepalese migrant labour in the Gulf and South East Asia and make a living. If nothing else, the combined total payout will mean a boost of almost $100m to GDP.
Far from being bereft of social support, a lot of the ex-PLA are married with children; many will presumably go home, and where necessary will ask and obtain forgiveness. They have been in cantonments since 2006, but not cut off from communication with friends and family. Indeed, they have been out on leave, and many will have visited home or elsewhere, prospecting for where to start their new lives. No doubt the party itself will remain an important network, even an institution, for many.
There will, no doubt, be problems. Some will spend their money too fast and then be left on their uppers. Perhaps others will spend their money on drugs, drink and prostitution; or buy into or start new criminal gangs; or join hardline Maoist or ethnic factions to wage further armed struggle. There will also, no doubt, be instances of revenge attacks on life, limb and property. There’ll be problems here and there when young men flush with cash return home to communities where husbands of young wives are away working in the Gulf. But Nepal is a big place, with plenty of existing social and economic problems; it can withstand a few more. Can 12,000 ex-combatants really destabilise a large and diverse country of 30 million people? Yes, probably. Are they likely too? Maybe, but I don’t think the question of “cash or a UN package” is what will tip the balance.
In any case, the politics of the situation – which the international agencies as so often are ill-equipped to engage with – seem to say quite clearly that cash pay-outs are the answer. I was in Nepal for a few days recently but can’t claim to understand the politics well. One issue seems to be speed: politicians have dragged their feet on this issue for so long, and time is officially running out for the implementation of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement. Emptying the cantonments – into either civilian life or the Nepalese army – is a critical milestone in that process, and it needs to be completed soon. Giving people a wad of cash has the merit of being quick.
Another apparent issue is murkier: the ex-combatants still owe some kind of allegiance to the Maoist cause, and may be asked to contribute some of their payment to the party. Indeed, many may be keen to do so, having been indoctrinated into the cause during their time in the field and while in cantonments. It is a lot easier to tax a $6000 cash payment, compared to someone’s UN package, consisting of a smaller pay-out and the receipt of training and advice.
Some in the international community in Kathmandu remain vexed about this outcome, finding it hard to accept that their advice, based on international best practice, is being ignored. They are looking for other ways to help the ex-combatants. Fair enough, provided they get their targeting right, and make sure they help reintegrate the ex-PLA into a decent and functioning local economy, wherever they settle. That means above all two things: targeting development assistance at the wider communities into which ex-combatants will be absorbed; and knowing enough about the individual ex-combatants to target the assistance appropriately.
The 60:25:15% rule?
In some ways this issue of targeting is the nub of how to “do reintegration”. An ex-colleague of mine Tony Klouda once demonstrated convincingly to me that for most social improvement programmes, one can divide the “target group” into three segments of unequal proportions. At one end of the spectrum, you have the people who are easiest to help, but who least need help. For teachers, these are the easiest pupils to teach, as well the ones who would most easily learn with minimal help. For reproductive health projects, these are the better-off men and women in the most stable family environments, who will readily agree with and respond to suggestions about safe sex and family planning, and might well have had fairly safe sex lives and spaced their births anyway. For micro-finance projects, these are the trustworthy people with collateral who can most easily access loans. Let’s call this the 60% group.
At the other end of the spectrum, you have the hardest to reach, and the ones least likely to change. In class, these are the pupils who really don’t want to learn; would rather be elsewhere, and disrupt the learning of others. In the field of reproductive health, these are the risk-taking young men and women who practise unsafe sex with multiple partners, and whose circumstances and attitudes make it very hard indeed to reach them or change their practices. In the field of mico-finance, no-one would willingly lend these people money. Let’s call this the 15% group.
In between, we are left with the remaining 25%. These are the pupils who could learn, given a decent opportunity to do so; and the individuals and couples who could and would adopt safer reproductive health practices if only you and they both had the time and resources needed. They are the people who take loans at extortionate rates, and who can thus never get their heads above water, but who could change their lives if only they could access cheaper capital.
Tony Klouda’s thesis as I remember it, was that projects and programmes tend to focus too much on the 60% and 15% groups, ignoring the 25%. In doing so they not only squander scarce resources, but also fail in their objectives. Very few of the 15% actually change their attitudes and bevahiour; and while projects will be reporting great success from providing services to the 60%, this is largely a false claim because many of the 60% would have passed their exams, practised healthy good reproductive lives or accessed loans anyway. Of course we should not be ignoring the 60%, nor consigning the 15% to oblivion. Nevertheless the rational application of scarce funds must surely be to the 25%.
Applying this knowledge to the world of DDR, it seems to me that the task is to identify who is in each of the 60:25:15% groups, and target the DDR programme accordingly. In public policy and programming terms, this might look as follows.
|
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15% |
25% |
60% |
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Who? |
Those unable to cope outside institutional life; sociopaths; unlikely to fit in, and likely to cause trouble wherever they go | Those with the potential to succeed, but who are somewhat traumatised, ill-educated, lacking in confidence…. Women especially | Relatively stable & intelligent well-adjusted individuals, with family or other networks; perhaps better educated (either formally or informally); they have a plan for what they’ll do in civilian life |
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Policy/ approach |
Keep them in uniform if possible, or otherwise under surveillance. Take steps to protect the most vulnerable, especially children, girls and women, from abuse. Eventually, if resources permit, extended psychosocial counselling | Intensive training and follow-up and monitoring; proactive follow-up by case workers; advice with live skills; smaller cash pay-out, perhaps in small tranches and conditional on certain milestones or personal achievements. | Cash, a bit of advice; remote monitoring –perhaps some kind of helpline in case they have questions they need help with |
This is a generic approach, not in any way designed specifically for Nepalese ex-PLA. But the advantage of this kind of public policy approach is that it channels the resources to those who can use them. Those who will benefit from it most, get the most attention; while those who least need it don’t get encumbered by having to deal with too much attention. It seems like a win-win.
The Better Angels of Our Nature: what implications for peacebuilding?
Has the incidence of violence declined over history, and if so, why? These are the two questions Stephen Pinker sets out to answer in his 2011 book, The Better Angels of Our Nature: The decline of violence in history and its causes.
As with other long multi-disciplinary books of scholarly secondary research, one sometimes wonders whether it wouldn’t have been easier just to read the much shorter essay which the author must surely have published too – at 700 pages it just takes so long to read! But, as with other such books – Guns, Germs and Steel by Jared Diamond, War in Human Civilisation by Azar Gat, and The Wealth and Poverty of Nations by David S. Landes come to mind – reading the longer version is worth the time spent. In The Better Angels of Our Nature (the phrase was used by President Lincoln in his 1861 Inaugural Address), Pinker takes a scientific approach, being careful to explore his hypotheses and assumptions through the analysis of a great deal of data. The book is replete with graphs and tables, and for a non-academic reader, provides an opportunity to acquaint or re-acquaint oneself with data and ideas drawn from a variety of disciplines including history, philosophy, the social sciences, game theory, and the arts.
Pinker repeatedly refers to Hobbes’s analysis of the incentives to violence in terms of Gain, Fear and Deterrence (or as Hobbes called them, Competition, Diffidence and Glory). He reminds us of or introduces us to Kant’s framework of Perpetual Peace, underpinned by democracy, commerce, universal citizenship and international law. He takes us on a long and winding ride through modern studies of behaviour and incentives, such as those of Zambardo and Milgram, which illustrated how easily people could be persuaded to use or connive in the use of violence if they felt it was “useful” or “called for”, or simply if others appeared to be doing so without being sanctioned.
He recognises the need to look beneath the surface. For example he cites experimental data which show that people find it far easier to hurt (or fail to protect) those who are “other”, or “not like me”. This is fairly predictable stuff. But then he goes deeper, demonstrating that “people like me” is a far more complex lens than often thought: in fact it is based on people’s need to be in coalitions of mutual support, which quite easily transcend notions of race and shared identity, once mutual trust and confidence is built.
Pinker takes us on a historical excursion to the Thirty Years War, one of the bloodiest periods in European history; and to the 8th Century An Lushan Revolt and Civil War in China which I had not heard of, and which he claims killed 36 million people, two-thirds of China’s and one-sixth of the world’s population at the time. He describes mediaeval torture and punishment regimes, the practices of Atlantic slavery, the prevalence of rape and other once-widely condoned acts of violence in excruciating detail. He explores the role of the arts in society, identifying trends and tropes.
And of course he makes repeated use of and reference to the famous Prisoner’s Dilemma, which neatly explains why people so often opt for violence against one another, when their mutual interest is genuinely better served by cooperation, if only they trusted and had more information about what the another might do.
In the classic Prisoner’s Dilemma, two prisoners are arrested for a crime for which the police have insufficient evidence to convict them. Interrogated separately, each is offered the same deal. If he testifies against his confederate, while the latter refuses to do the same to him, he goes free and his confederate gets ten year in jail. If both prisoners betray each other, they both receive a two-year sentence. If both refuse to cooperate with the authorities – i.e. they effectively cooperate with one another – they both get a three month sentence. The scenario is one in which mutual cooperation between the two prisoners is the optimal strategy when seen by an objective observer with both thier interests in mind, and yet the rational decision for each, absent any knowledge about how the other will respond to the police’s offer, is to betray his confederate. The basic game is shown below.
| Prisoner B stays silent (cooperates) | Prisoner B betrays A (defects) | |
| Prisoner A stays silent (cooperates) | Each serves 3 months | Prisoner A: 10 years Prisoner B: goes free |
| Prisoner A betrays B (defects) | Prisoner A: goes free Prisoner B: 10 years | Each serves 2 years |
Pinker is well-read across a very broad spectrum of disciplines, and the book presents a great opportunity for the non-academic reader like myself to catch a glimpse of some of the fascinating data and reasoning which is available to those with more time, knowledge and intelligence at their disposal.
Pinker’s approach does have some important limitations. It covers a huge amount of ground, and thus risks skating too thinly over it. Also, however hard he tries to be scientific and empirical, one can’t help feeling that there is a liberal bias to the book. In one section he asks whether the reduction in violence could be explained by rapid genetic evolution over the past few millennia. Hovering behind this enquiry is the tantalising concern that if so, the evolution may have been focused on only some human populations, and not others. Thus it might have happened differentially in difference races, which is a conclusion no liberal would be eager to arrive at. When he gets to the point where he can demonstrate both theoretically and empirically that this is not so, one senses a genuine feeling of relief on Pinker’s part: phew, the data are aligned with a liberal view!
Another limitation is that so many of the data he uses are from the West: Europe and the New World, especially the USA. This is understandable, given his milieu – he is a professor at Harvard – and the relative lack of historical series and experimental data from elsewhere. But it does leave a gap in his narrative and therefore in the robustness and generalizability of his conclusions.
Finally, his determination to rely on empirical data at all costs is exasperating at times. Among the most commonly repeated phrases in the book must be “holding other factors constant”, and “other things being equal”. For every hypothesis explored, he seeks to explain the phenomena in terms of the influence of exogenous factors, and of course this is right if one wishes to draw robust conclusions. And yet at times as a reader I just wanted to scream, for example “but it’s common sense that people who trade with each other are less likely to fight each other, you don’t need three more graphs to persuade me of that!”
But these are relatively trivial limitations, alongside the grand task he set himself. So what did he find?
The decline in violence
Examining the data, Pinker finds that over history, humans have on average committed less and less violence against each other. We are more peaceful in family relationships than we used to be. We use torture and other “unusual punishments” far less than we used to, indeed they are outlawed in a growing number of countries. We are more civil in our relationships with neighbours and others we encounter on a regular basis, and more tolerant of those who are different from us. We rape less, we stab less, we mug less, we murder less, we enslave less and we execute less. We go to civil and inter-state war less often, and when we do, the casualty rates are far lower than they used to be.
Pinker seems to expect his readers to be surprised by this, though I wasn’t. Nevertheless it is very useful to see the trends summarised and explained using data. What was particularly interesting to me was the rapidity of the change, and the steepness of some of the declining curves. Many are so steep that he has to use a logarithmic scale to compare the modern day incidence of violence with that of the past.
Pinker is at pains to note that plenty of people still live in consistently violent circumstances: his data on violence within societies are primarily taken from stable Western democracies. He also makes it clear that he has no evidence to support the idea that reduced levels of violence will be sustained in the future. Indeed, while societal violence and warfare trends point consistently downward, they can and have been reversed at times, and we only have to look around us to see there is no room for complacency. In fact, while the overall shape of the curves for the incidence and magnitude of warfare slopes distinctly downward, it is also saw-toothed, with sudden and jagged increases often lasting many years, before the curve resumes is downward trajectory. The up-tick in war and atrocities during the first two thirds of the Twentieth Century is an example.
This is quite difficult. To see 70 million people killed in two World Wars, and a further 60 million at the hands of Mao and Stalin, to say nothing of Cambodia, Rwanda, the Iran-Iraq war and other major conflicts and atrocities as an up-tick in data trends is hard to swallow. But on closer examination, it is not obvious that the twentieth century was the worst. Pinker identifies five wars and four atrocities in prior ages each of which killed more people than the 15 million of the First World War. And in a ranking of major wars and atrocities in which the number of deaths is taken as a proportion of the world’s population at the time, Stalin’s 20 million ranks only fifteenth, Mao’s 40 million deaths ranks eleventh, and the Second World War with 55 million is “only” number nine. First, second and third places in the list go to the Al Lushan Revolt, the Mongol conquests, and the Middle Eastern Slave Trade.
Pinker calls the sustained spike of 20th Century violence a “hemoclysm”, but does not accept that it should legitimately be seen as a single phenomenon, and does not allow it to derail his main thesis that overall, levels of violence have declined. Instead he suggests that the horrors of the Twentieth Century can largely be explained by random factors and by the presence of sociopaths like Stalin, Mao and Hitler in positions of power, and by accidents of history such as the shot fired in Sarajevo which was famously “heard around the world”. Hmm.
The explanation
What I find particularly interesting about Better Angels is Pinker’s attempt to explain the sustained reduction in violence. While he does examine neurological and physiological aspects of this, his thesis is that humans have become less violent essentially due to five mutually interacting factors which are psychological, social, economic, cultural and political, rather than neuro-physiological. Like most of the best findings, they mostly seem like common sense, though some are perhaps more obvious and familiar than others. In the end, it’s the way we live together and how we organise ourselves to do so, which best explains the level of violence within and between human societies.
- Governance: locally, nationally, regionally and globally, people have found ways to organise themselves so they can increasingly manage and resolve conflicts and differences without recourse to violence. The apparatus of the state is essentially a set of systems, underpinned by values and a social contract, which serve this purpose. These are reflected at the sub-state level too, as well as in the intergovernmental organisations to which states belong. Pinker demonstrates a strong correlation between the evolution of the state and the reduction in violence; and especially between the evolution of democratic governance and the reduction in violence. Effective governance increases the chance that people or states will opt to collaborate with other people or states rather than commit violence against them – i.e. they will not “defect”, in terms of the Prisoner’s Dilemma. The rule of law means that either party will be sanctioned for committing violence, thus the incentive to collaborate becomes higher; each “prisoner” can have more confidence that the other will not defect, and it thus becomes more rational in some circumstances to assume he won’t. Meanwhile, the evolution of states has engendered an increasing respect for human rights.
- Commerce: when people trade and do business together, they get to know each other, develop trust and confidence in each other, share an interest in stability and – all else being equal – are incentivised to cooperate rather than fight.
- Feminization: societies which have become more peaceful have come to organise themselves less around the need to be able to fight. The typically masculine, martial culture has become less important. Women play an increasingly important role as leaders and in other walks of life, and society has – in Pinker’s words – become feminized. This is particularly true, so far, of Western society. This has also allowed men’s more feminine side to come to the fore. Experiments find that women more often opt for a positive-sum approach, while men opt for zero-sum. Feminized societies are more likely to seek and achieve positive-sum solutions to problems and issues, and thus to find ways to resolve them without violence.
- Empathy: one of Pinker’s most interesting findings is that the more we come to know about others, the less incentive we seem to have, to do them harm. Knowing other people or “peoples” helps us see how alike us they are, and thus reduces their “otherness”. Studies have shown that we are more likely to take care of, and less likely to be willing to harm people, if we know them or know enough about them to perceive them as like us. Pinker talks about an Expanding Circle, in which increasing numbers of people are part of the same meta-coalition or set of coalitions, and therefore the smaller identity-based coalitions (based on location, nation, race, ethnicity, etc.) become less important. The growth of this circle, and the depth of the connections within it, can partly be traced to culture: the advent of reading and writing made it possible to share information from elsewhere. The development of plays and the novel made it possible to consider what others are going through or thinking – to put oneself into others’ shoes; to develop a capacity for empathy. Pinker identifies the evolution of humanitarianism as a historical trend linked to the increasing prevalence of empathy.
- Reason: finally, enlightenment has played a critical role. The ability to reason, to calculate our best option when faced with a problem for which one of the options involves violence, allows us to weigh up costs and benefits rationally. Reason has edged (or is edging) out superstition in communities around the world, arming people with the ability to develop less violent solutions. Pinker quotes enlightenment thinkers from Renaissance Europe who started to realise and argue – and then demonstrate – that torture is an irrational way to find out the truth, as people will say anything, true or false, under torture. (In one horrifying story he quotes a renaissance nobleman who tortured his own manservant horribly, to see if he would confess to an imaginary crime: he did, thus proving the hypothesis, but also surely demonstrating to the modern reader that humanitarianism was still nascent.) This was then followed by the progressive elimination of torture as a routine practice in country after country. For Pinker, the ability to reason and argue, to test and prove or disprove hypotheses, enabled this change.
The implications
I work for the peacebuilding organisation International Alert , so I read The Better Angels partly to see what lessons there might be for us and other peacebuilders. The first, I’m happy to say, is that Pinker’s relentless search for empirical evidence has done us a big favour, as his thesis is very much in line with our own, as expressed in our programming framework . Like Pinker, we see peace largely as a result of good governance, systems and culture which allow people to manage their conflicts without recourse to violence, while making equitable progress. What Pinker shows is that the progress itself reinforces the tendency towards peace. But like Pinker we would reject the whiggish notion of an inexorable reduction in violence that happens as an inevitable outcome of history. Peace is something to be built and constantly strengthened, rather than something which comes about of its own accord. And one has to avoid prescribing how peace will evolve in one set of circumstances, simply because it has happened like that elsewhere. One has to be particularly careful in taking lessons from the way the mature western democracies have evolved, and trying to apply them elsewhere.
Nevertheless, thinking generically about how peace can be enabled or built does make sense, provided strategies for specific circumstances are devised based on good context analysis. Pinker’s book seems to support, among others:
- The idea, very popular just now in the international development and peacebuilding communities, of working to establish and strengthen the social contract between responsible citizens and a responsive and accountable state. For example by improving the services provided by the state, and giving citizens a greater voice in how they are delivered and monitored; and by bringing more people into the tax system, so they have quite literally a greater stake.
- The integration within peacebuilding, of programmes designed to widen the Expanding Circle of empathy. For example using cultural events and artefacts – plays, music, films, novels – to increase the likelihood that people will habitually imagine and envisage the lives of others, including others outside their immediate ken. Another approach to this might involve bringing people from different ethnic and national groups together in the education system, thus getting to know people who might normally be seen as “other”.
- The promotion of non-identity-based civil society groupings, as coalitions of mutual support which rely on a non-communal concept of community and thus reduce the opportunity for inter-communal violence. These groups could be formed to provide services, to argue and advocate for common interests shared across traditional divides, or to manage commonly used natural resources such as water, farming and pasture land, and municipal resources in the cities. They could also be political parties – or embryonic political parties.
- The promotion of commercial links and joint enterprises across formal and virtual borders. For example Alert does this across formal borders (DRC: Rwanda); unrecognised de facto borders in the Caucasus; and across the virtual, psychosocial borders which separate people locally in Rwandese communities. In some ways this was one of the founding ideas of the European Economic Communities back in the 1950s.
- Supporting the virtuous circle in which incremental peace empowers men to become less martial, and women to play a greater and more explicit role in governance and business; and thus engender further incremental progress towards peace; and so on…. There may be some surprising elements to this. For example, polygamy frequently excludes young men from taking their full adult role in society, as it often excludes them from marriage until later in life (while older, wealthier men monopolise the marriage market). The evidence is clear that married young men are far less likely than bachelors to commit violent crimes or to join militias. Thus peacebuilders from polygamous societies might wish to consider trying to change this practice, as a step towards feminization and peace.
The good thing is, many of these kinds of ideas are already being practised, along with countless others that fit with Pinker’s thesis. But we can do more. Reading his book, I see arguments for peacebuilding strategies – such as the one just mentioned – which don’t often get aired. I therefore recommend those who think they have time for Pinker’s 700 pages to give it a go.
Phil Vernon 