Adapting the United Nations to a Post Modern Era: Lessons Learned (Global Issues)

Adapting the United Nations to a Postmodern Era Lessons Learned

Edited by W. Andy Knight

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Adapting the United Nations to a Postmodern Era

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Global Issues Series General Editor: Jim Whitman This exciting new series encompasses three principal themes: the interaction of human and natural systems; cooperation and conflict; and the enactment of values. The series as a whole places an emphasis on the examination of complex systems and causal relations in political decision-making; problems of knowledge; authority, control and accountability in issues of scale; and the reconciliation of conflicting values and competing claims. Throughout the series the concentration is on an integration of existing disciplines towards the clarification of political possibility as well as impending crises. Titles include: Brendan Gleeson and Nicholas Low (editors) GOVERNING FOR THE ENVIRONMENT Global Problems, Ethics and Democracy Roger Jeffery and Bhaskar Vira (editors) CONFLICT AND COOPERATION IN PARTICIPATORY NATURAL RESOURCE MANAGEMENT W. Andy Knight A CHANGING UNITED NATIONS Multilateral Evolution and the Quest for Global Governance W. Andy Knight (editor) ADAPTING THE UNITED NATIONS TO A POSTMODERN ERA Lessons Learned Graham S. Pearson THE UNSCOM SAGA Chemical and Biological Weapons Non-Proliferation Andrew T. Price-Smith (editor) PLAGUES AND POLITICS Infectious Disease and International Policy Michael Pugh (editor) REGENERATION OF WAR-TORN SOCIETIES Bhaskar Vira and Roger Jeffery (editors) ANALYTICAL ISSUES IN PARTICIPATORY NATURAL RESOURCE MANAGEMENT

Global Issues Series Series Standing Order ISBN 0–333–79483–4 (outside North America only) You can receive future titles in this series as they are published by placing a standing order. Please contact your bookseller or, in case of difficulty, write to us at the address below with your name and address, the title of the series and the ISBN quoted above. Customer Services Department, Macmillan Distribution Ltd, Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS, England

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Adapting the United Nations to a Postmodern Era Lessons Learned Edited by

W. Andy Knight Professor of International Relations University of Alberta Canada

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Editorial matter, selection, Introduction and Chapter 2 © W. Andy Knight 2001 Chapter 1 © Roger A. Coate, W. Andy Knight and Andrei I. Maximenko 2001 Chapter 6 © W. Andy Knight and Kassu Gebremariam 2001 Conclusion © W. Andy Knight and Joe Masciulli 2001 Chapters 3–5, 7–16 © Palgrave Publishers Ltd 2001 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1P 0LP. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The authors have asserted their rights to be identified as the authors of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2001 by PALGRAVE Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS and 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N. Y. 10010 Companies and representatives throughout the world PALGRAVE is the new global academic imprint of St. Martin’s Press LLC Scholarly and Reference Division and Palgrave Publishers Ltd (formerly Macmillan Press Ltd). ISBN 0–333–80150–4 This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Adapting the United Nations to a postmodern era / edited by W. Andy Knight. p. cm. — (Global issues series) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0–333–80150–4 1. United Nations. 2. Postmodernism. I. Knight, W. Andy. II. Global issues series (New York, N.Y. : 1999) JZ4984.5 .A33 2000 341.23—dc21 00–066871 10 10

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Printed and bound in Great Britain by Antony Rowe Ltd, Chippenham, Wiltshire

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To Bayan and Nauzanin

Contents List of Acronyms and Abbreviations

ix

Acknowledgements

xvi

Preface

xviii

Foreword by Jean Krasno, Executive Director, Academic Council on the United Nations System Notes on the Contributors

xxii

Introduction: Adapting the United Nations W. Andy Knight

Part I 1

2

3

4

5

6

1

Conceptualizing Change in the United Nations

Requirements of Multilateral Governance for Promoting Human Security in a Postmodern Era Roger A. Coate, W. Andy Knight and Andrei I. Maximenko Learning in the United Nations W. Andy Knight

Part II

xx

11 28

Adaptations of UN Primary Concepts and Instruments

Collective Security: Changing Conceptions and Institutional Adaptation Edwin M. Smith Possibilities for Preventive Diplomacy, Early Warning and Global Monitoring in the Post-Cold War Era; or, the Limits to Global Structural Change Michael G. Schechter

41

52

The United Nations and Preventive Deployment in the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia Abiodun Williams

65

UN Intervention and Peacebuilding in Somalia: Constraints and Possibilities W. Andy Knight and Kassu Gebremariam

77

vii

viii Contents

7

International Criminal Law Enforcement Jarat Chopra

Part III 8

9

10

95

Cases

UN Fact-Finding in a Postmodern World: Potential for Arms Limitation and Confidence-Building Andrew A. Latham

115

The Future Role of the United Nations in Disarmament: Learning from the Iraq Experience Dorinda G. Dallmeyer

129

The Civilian Police Element in UN Peacekeeping: The Case of Haiti Julian Harston

140

11 The Neutralization of Protracted Conflicts: The Case of UNTAC Sorpong Peou 12 Pivots of Peace: UN Transitional Operations David R. Black

150 163

13 The United Nations and NATO’s War: The Fallout from Kosovo Tom Keating

178

14 Improving the Capacity of the United Nations’ Human Rights System Douglas Lee Donoho

191

15 Environmental Security: Finding the Balance Catherine Tinker

202

16 Changing the Global Trade Structure: From ‘Harmonization’ to a New ‘Interface Principle’ Geoffrey R. Martin

219

Conclusion: Rethinking instead of Tinkering – an Ethical Consensus and General Lessons W. Andy Knight and Joseph Masciulli

233

Index

252

List of Acronyms and Abbreviations ACABQ ACC ACUNS AG ANS ANZUS ARENA ASEAN ASG BLDP CCAQ CCIC CCISUA CCSQ CCW CDP CGDK CEDAW CENTO CERD CHR CIVPOL CPC CPP CPRC CSCE CSDHA CSTD CTC CWC DAM DCS DDA DEA

Advisory Committee for Administrative and Budgetary Questions Administrative Coordinating Committee Academic Council on the United Nations System Administrator-General Armeé Nationale Sihanoukiste Australia, New Zealand, US Security Pact Nationalist Republican Alliance Association of South East Asian Nations Assistant Secretary-General Buddhist Liberal Democratic Party Coordinating Committee for Administrative Questions Canadian Council for International Cooperation Coordinating Committee for Independent Staff Unions and Associations of the UN System Coordinating Committee for Substantive Questions Convention on Conventional Weapons Committee for Development Planning Coalition Government of Democratic Kampuchea Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women Central Treaty Organization Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination Commission on Human Rights Civilian Police Committee for Programme and Coordination Cambodian People’s Party Civil and Political Rights Covenant Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe Centre for Social Development and Humanitarian Affairs Centre for Science and Technology for Development Centre for Transnational Corporations Chemical Weapons Convention Department of Administration and Management Department of Conference Services Department for Disarmament Affairs Department of External Affairs ix

x List of Acronyms and Abbreviations

DESD DG DIEC DIESA DK DOMREP DPA DPI DPKO DPSCA DTCD EADRCC EC ECA ECDC ECE ECLA ECLAC ECOSOC EEC ENMOD

ESC ESCAP ESCRC ESCWA FAO FMLN FTA FUNCINPEC G77 GATT GEF GEMS GSP GSTP

Department of Economic and Social Development Director-General Director-General’s Office for International Co-operation and Economic Affairs Department of International Economic and Social Affairs Democratic Kampuchea Mission of the Representative of the Secretary-General in the Dominican Republic Department of Political Affairs Department of Public Information Department of Peacekeeping Operations Department for Political and Security Council Affairs Department of Technical Cooperation for Development Euro-Atlantic Disaster Response Coordination Centre European Community Economic Commission for Africa Economic Cooperation among Developing Countries Economic Commission for Europe Economic Commission for Latin America Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean Economic and Social Council European Economic Community Convention on the Prohibition of Military or Any Other Hostile Use of Environmental Modification Techniques Economic Security Council Economic and Social Commission for Asia and the Pacific Economic, Social and Cultural Rights Covenant Economic and Social Commission for Western Asia Food and Agricultural Organization Frente Farabundo Mart’ para la Liberacion Nacional Free Trade Agreement National United Front for an Independent, Neutral, Peaceful and Cooperative Cambodia Group of Seventy-Seven General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade Global Environment Facility Global Environmental Monitoring System Generalized Systems of Preferences Global System of Trade Preferences

List of Acronyms and Abbreviations xi

HABITAT HDM HNP IAD IAEA IBRD ICAO ICC ICJ ICORC ICSC IDA IDDA IDS IFAD IFC IGO ILC ILO IMCO IMF IMO INGO INSTRAW IPTF IRPTC ITC ITU JAB JIU JNA KLA KPNLF KVM LDCs MICIVIH MINURCA MINURSO MIPONUH MNF MONUA

United Nations Centre for Human Settlement Hisbia Digile Mirfile Haitian National Police Internal Audit Division International Atomic Energy Agency International Bank for Reconstruction and Development International Civil Aviation Organization International Criminal Court International Court of Justice International Committee on the Reconstruction of Cambodia International Civil Service Commission International Development Association Industrial Development Decade for Africa International Development Strategy International Fund for Agricultural Development International Finance Corporation Intergovernmental Organizations International Law Commission International Labour Organization International Maritime Consultative Organization International Monetary Fund International Maritime Organization International Nongovernmental Organizations International Research and Training Institute for Advancement of Women International Police Task Force International Register of Potentially Toxic Chemicals International Trade Centre International Telecommunications Union United Nations Joint Appeals Board Joint Inspection Unit Yugoslav National Army Kosovo Liberation Army Khmer Peoples’ National Liberation Front Kosovo Verification Mission Least Developed Countries Joint Civilian Mission of the UN and the OAS UN Mission for the Central African Republic UN Mission for the Referendum in Western Sahara UN Civilian Police Mission in Haiti Multinational Force UN Observation Mission in Angola

xii List of Acronyms and Abbreviations

MULPOC MUNS MSC NACD NAFTA NAM NATO NFD NGO NIC NIEO NMEs NORDBAT NPT OAS OAU OCS OD OECD OERC OGS OHRM OLA ONUC ONUCA ONUMOZ ONUVEH ONUVEN ONUSAL OOALS OPCW OPEC OPL OPPBF ORCI OSCE OSSESM PCIJ PDK P5

Multinational Programming and Operational Centre Programme on Multilateralism and the United Nations System Military Staff Committee Non-Proliferation, Arms Control and Disarmament North American Free Trade Agreement Non-Aligned Movement North Atlantic Treaty Organization Northern Frontier District Non-Governmental Organization Newly Industrializing Countries New International Economic Order Non-Market Economies Nordic Battalion Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons Organization of American States Organization of African Unity Office of Conference Services Organizational Development Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development Office of Emergency Relief Coordination Office of General Service Office of Human Resource Management Office of Legal Affairs UN Peace Keeping Force in the Congo UN Observer Group in Central America UN Operations in Mozambique UN Verification Mission in Haiti UN Observer Mission for the Verification of Elections in Nicaragua UN Observer Mission in El Salvador UN Office for Ocean Affairs and the Law of the Sea Organization for the Prevention on Chemical Warfare Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries Organization of the People in Struggle Office of Programme Planning, Budget and Finance Office of Research and Collection of Information Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe Office of Secretariat Services for Economic and Social Matters Permanent Court of International Justice Party of Democratic Kampuchea Permanent Members of the UN Security Council

List of Acronyms and Abbreviations xiii

PN PNC PPBES PRK PSG RSG SAIS SAU SDSM SG SNC SNL SOC SPL SRSG SWAPO SWAPOL SYL TCDC TNC TRIMS UK UN UNAMIC UNA-USA UNAVEM UNCDF UNCED UNCHS UNCIO UNCLOS UNCSDHA UNCSTD UNCTAD UNCTC UNDOF UNDP UNDRO UNEF UNEF (II) UNEP UNESCO

National Police National Civil Police UN Planning, Programming, Budgeting and Evaluative System People’s Republic of Kampuchea Police Support Group Representative of the Secretary General Societa Agricola Italio-Somalia Somali African Union Social Democratic Union of Macedonia Secretary General Supreme National Council Somali National League State of Cambodia Somali Progressive Party Secretary-General’s Special Representative South West African People’s Organization South West Africa Police Somali Youth League Technical Cooperation among Developing Countries Transnational Corporation Trade-Related Investment Measures United Kingdom United Nations UN Advance Mission in Cambodia UN Association in the United States UN Angola Verification Mission UN Capital Development Fund UN Conference on the Environment and Development UN Centre for Human Settlements (HABITAT) UN Conference on International Organization UN Conference on the Law of the Sea UN Centre for Social Development and Humanitarian Affairs UN Science for Technology and Development UN Conference on Trade and Development UN Centre for Transnational Corporations UN Disengagement Observer Force UN Development Programme Office of the UN Director Relief Coordinator UN Emergency Force in Sinai UN Emergency Force (II) Separating Egypt and Israel UN Environmental Programme UN Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization

xiv

List of Acronyms and Abbreviations

UNFDAC UNFICYP UNFPA UNGA UNGOMAP UNHCR UNICEF UNIDO UNIFIL UNIIMOG UNIKOM UNIPOM UNITAR UNJSPB UNMIBH UNMIG UNMIH UNMOGIP UNMOP UNMOT UNOC UNOG UNOGIL UNOMIG UNOMIL UNOMSA UNOMSIL UNOMUR UNOSOM UNOV UNPAAERD UNPREDEP UNPROFOR UNRISD UNRWA UNSC UNSCEAR UNSCOM UNSF UNSG UNSMIH

UN Fund for Drug Abuse Control UN Peacekeeping Force in Cyprus UN Fund for Population Activities UN General Assembly UN Good Offices Mission in Afghanistan and Pakistan Office of the UN High Commissioner for Refugees UN Children’s Emergency Fund UN Industrial Development Organization UN Interim Force in Lebanon UN Iran–Iraq Military Observer Group UN Iraq–Kuwait Observer Mission UN India–Pakistan Observer Mission UN Institute for Training and Research UN Joint Staff Pension Board UN Mission in Bosnia and Herzegovina UN Mission in Georgia UN Mission in Haiti UN Military Observer Group in India and Pakistan UN Observer Mission in Croatia UN Observer Mission in Tajikistan UN Operation in Congo UN Office at Geneva UN Observer Group in Lebanon UN Observer Mission in Georgia UN Observer Mission in Liberia UN Observer Mission in South Africa UN Observer Mission in Sierra Leone UN Observer Mission in Uganda and Rwanda UN Operations in Somalia UN Office at Vienna UN Programme of Action for African Economic Recovery and Development UN Preventive Deployment Force UN Protection Force in Yugoslavia UN Research Institute for Social Development UN Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East UN Security Council UN Scientific Committee on the Effects of Atomic Radiation UN Special Commission UN Security Force in West Iran UN Secretary-General UN Support Mission in Haiti

List of Acronyms and Abbreviations xv

UNTAC UNTAG UNTMIH UNTSO UNU UNYOM UPU US USA USG USSR VMRO-DPMNE WCF WFC WFP WHO WIPO WMO WOMP WTO

UN Transition Assistance Team in Cambodia UN Transition Group in Namibia UN Transition Mission in Haiti UN Truce Supervision Organization United Nations University UN Yemen Observer Group Universal Postal Union United States United States of America Under Secretary-General United Soviet Socialist Republic Internal Macedonian Revolutionary OrganizationDemocratic Party of Macedonian National Unity Working Capital Fund World Food Council World Food Programme World Health Organization World Intellectual Property Organization World Meteorological Organization World Order Model Project World Trade Organization

Acknowledgements The seed for this book was planted in the summer of 1991 when I began a two-year study, funded by the now defunct Canadian Institute for International Peace and Security (CIIPS), on ‘Reconstructing International Peace and Security: A Role for Canada in United Nations Reform’. Midway through this project, I organized a major conference at York University’s Centre for International and Security Studies (YCISS) on UN Reform Issues for the 1990s and Beyond. This conference brought together international relations and international legal scholars, many of whom were members of the Academic Council on the United Nations System (ACUNS). Close to 80 per cent of the chapter contributors to this book attended that 1992 meeting. The remaining 20 per cent were invited at various points over the subsequent years to make contributions to the book. First, I would like to thank all the contributing authors for their perseverence and encouragement over the life of this project. I am grateful also to the following people for providing support at various stages of the research and writing: David Dewitt, Director of the YCISS, along with the Centre’s personnel – Heather Chestnutt and Steve Mataija (conference organizers), Kenneth Boutin, Rose Frezza, Rosalind Irwin and Timothy Sinclair; York University students Sabrina Chung, Steve Feller, Alexandra Gheciu and Debbie Wehab, who assisted with the organization of the 1992 conference; my student researchers at both Bishop’s University and the University of Alberta: Nancy Dhillon, Nina Di Stefano, Sean McMahon, Sasha Orlova, Duncan Rayner, Sandra Rein and Orrick White. A major debt of gratitude is owed to Bernard Wood (former Chief Executive Officer of CIIPS) and to Mark Heller (its former Co-ordinator of Research). I acknowledge also with great appreciation the assistance of Mark Moher, former Director-General, International Security, Arms Control and CSCE Affairs Bureau in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and International Trade Canada, during the final phases of the funding of this project. Administrative aspects of many of the CIIPS’ commissioned research undertakings were taken over by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and International Trade (Ottawa). In addition, much of my research could not have been completed without the help of a number of past and present staff members of the UN Secretariat who provided relevant and timely information along the way. Among these, I would especially like to thank Norma Chan, Juergen Dedring, Hilmar Galter, Salah Ibrahim, Andri Isaksson, James Jonah, Angela Uther Knippenberg, Jacqueline Aloisi de Larderel, Georges le Blanc, B. G. Ramcharan, José de Ribes-Gil, Petra Schmidt, Heike Schulte-Göcking, Michael Stopford, Barbara Sue-Ting-Len, James Sutterlin, xvi

Acknowledgements xvii

Sir Brian Urquhart, Layachi Yaker and Mari Yamashita. Howard Adelman, Leon Gordenker, Keith Krause, Joseph Masciulli, Tim Shaw, Andrew Stritch, Gerald Tucker and Jim Whitman provided useful criticisms and comments on various drafts of chapters. Jean Krasno, ACUNS’ Executive Director, furnished a thoughtful foreword for which I am most grateful. Laura Samaroo assisted me with the index. Final thanks go to my spouse, Mitra Najaf-Toumeraei, and our two small children, Bayan and Nauzanin, for putting up with me during the stressful time when this volume was being assembled. I owe them more than words can say. W. Andy Knight, Edmonton, Alberta

Preface The rationale for producing this edited volume is in part related to what is generally perceived as a moment of change and transition. All the contributing authors began from the premise that we are living in a transitional era – from modernity to postmodernity. Modernity in the context of international relations is characterized by the prevalence of forms of rationalism tending to positivism and materialism and the primacy of the nation-state, nationalism and realism’s concerns with power balancing in conditions of anarchy. We were all of the opinion when the research project was initiated, and now, that if the trends of interdependence and globalization continue, an era of postmodernity might well replace modernity in a full sense during the twenty-first century. In the meantime, we felt that it would be important to reflect systematically on the ways in which the United Nations has tried to adapt its role and institutions over the past half-century to this rapidly changing international and global context. In so doing, we hoped to learn important lessons that could be instrumental in assisting the organization’s future adaptation. The UN system is the object of the research because it is the only universal governance body and has a mandate to address security problems in the broader sense of the term. At the same time, this system is obviously experiencing enormous difficulty in coping with the myriad problems, both old and new, which it faces. Indeed, the challenges are both epiphenomenal and structural, and it is becoming clear that unless this organization adapts its mandate, structures and processes to meet the challenges posed at the end of the twentieth century, there is really little hope of its becoming a relevant governance body in this millennium. Already we are witnessing signs that the UN system, despite the euphoric celebrations that accompanied its fiftieth anniversary in 1995, is being bypassed as a meaningful contributor to global, regional and local problem-solving (witness Kosovo). This troubling situation requires a serious examination of the reasons why this is the case and what can be done, if anything, to reverse the problem. A number of significant studies have been completed since 1995 that touch on this issue, for example, the Commission on Global Governance report, the Multilateralism and United Nations System (MUNS) studies sponsored by the United Nations University (UNU), the Yale study on UN reform funded by the Ford Foundation, and Ingo Peter’s edited volume on reforming multilateral institutions. However, many of these studies arrive at conclusions about what needs to be done without looking in any meaningful detail at actual cases which demonstrate why the issue of change in multilateral institutionalism is so crucial at this particular historical juncture xviii

Preface xix

and what lessons can be learned about the United Nations’ ability or inability to adjust to changing circumstances. It is hoped that the case studies in this volume will fill that void in the literature. This book has a strong normative and critical underpinning. While the contributors are all committed to multilateral solutions and organizations and are supportive of the UN system, they have tried to stand outside prevailing understandings of traditional views on the United Nations in order to reflect on the lessons that can be learned from this organization’s experience in trying to adapt to the period of transition. In some sense, the volume will not fit easily within the mould of traditional international organization or international law texts. Indeed, a deliberate attempt was made to assemble contributors from these two fields so that a true exchange and debate could occur across them. Thus, one can expect to find here an eclectic mix of analyses suitable for a supplemental text in the political science sub-fields of international relations and international organization as well as in the discipline of international law. It is hoped that this feature will be attractive to teachers and students who seldom find this variety of exchanges in traditional texts. Finally, this book is considered a companion piece to another work, A Changing United Nations: Multilateral Evolution and the Quest for Global Governance (by W. Andy Knight, 2000) which provides the conceptual framework for both works. I hope that you will find in both books something of interest to you whether you are a student, a teacher, a government or international organization practitioner, or a member of the non-governmental community. W. Andy Knight

Foreword As Executive Director of the Academic Council on the United Nations System (ACUNS), it gives me great pleasure to write a few words in the opening pages of this important volume which contains chapters by many members of ACUNS. The contribution of this book at a critical time of transition is particularly relevant as we use the turning of the millennium as a focal point for reflection on lessons that we might learn from the past. This volume is particularly unusual in its interdisciplinary effort to bring together specialists who not only represent academics and practitioners, but who are also experts in international relations and international law. Many editors would not take on the arduous task of blending such disparate points of view into one publication. I commend the editor for his fine work and his excellent selection of outstanding chapter contributors. The United Nations, with its nearly universal membership, has become the focal point of international organization. However, the United Nations was created over 50 years ago following the devastation of two world wars. For this organization to maintain its relevance and legitimacy, it will need to adapt to the changing environment. Yet, as we grapple with the emerging postmodern world, we realize that profound changes have outpaced the institutions we have created in the past century to address the needs of global cohabitation. An erosion in the Cold War conceptual framework that dominated political thinking in the past has washed us onto the postmodern shores of uncertainty. We have just passed through a century full of dichotomies that juxtaposed Hitler, the dark symbol of aggression and genocide, with Gandhi, the enlightened beacon of peaceful change. That theme of dark and light pervaded the century. Threatened by two world wars, we tried to fashion global mechanisms to deter aggression, yet the Cold War thwarted the hopes of a newly created United Nations, tasked with maintaining international peace and security. The melting of that Cold War, just a brief decade ago, brought with it a euphoric vision of a new global order, sweeping aside the tensions that divided the world into camps, either East or West. For the United Nations, that fleeting dream eroded into a nightmare as peacekeepers stumbled in Somalia, hid from Rwanda and were kidnapped in Bosnia. It was easy to become cynical, and in our cynicism we neglected to notice the shape that was emerging from under the fallen Iron Curtain, the candles that lit the square in Prague, a new power, not military, not economic, but moral. Emboldened by information that has no boundaries and xx

Foreword xxi

a thirst for justice promised in the tide of democratization that swept across many parts of the world, people began to demand their rights. This demand for human rights, galvanized through the United Nations, brought down apartheid, gave the Namibian people their freedom and ended a civil war in El Salvador. This moral authority energized a new definition of security based on the individual human being, a security that goes beyond the traditional concept of the territorial integrity of the state. These emerging concepts of human security, as editor Andy Knight and his co-author Joe Masciulli describe in the concluding chapter, are eclipsing traditional norms. The dignity and nurturance of the individual as well as the health and sustainability of the environment are additions to the new security goals. Yet, just as we begin to focus our sights on individual rights, globalization threatens to blur our vision. The authors here point out that globalization brings with it the benefits of shared information and technology, freer trade and the distribution of resources. But globalization also enables international crime to thrive, the drugs trade to proliferate, currency traders to wreak havoc on vulnerable, emerging economies, and terrorists to kill and hide. These challenges cry out for global mechanisms of effective governance. Clarity is needed and the excellent collection of scholars and practitioners brought together in this volume have provided us with important clues which can guide us to the new interdisciplinary solutions that are needed to meet the challenges of the new millennium. This book is a thoughtful contribution to the careful analysis of lessons learned from the past, both good and bad, that can lead us to greater clarity in finding solutions to governing an increasingly complex world. Jean Krasno Executive Director Academic Council on the United Nations System

Notes on the Contributors David R. Black is an associate professor of Political Science and Coordinator of International Development Studies at Dalhousie University, Halifax, Canada. He has published (with Larry Swatuk) Canada and Southern Africa after Apartheid: Foreign Aid and Civil Society (1996) and Southern Africa after Apartheid: Security Issues (1996). Jarat Chopra, Director of the International Relations Program at Brown University, Rhode Island, was recently seconded to the United Nations to head the Office of District Administration for the United Nations Transitional Administration in East Timor. He is collaborating with the US Army War College Peacekeeping Institute in the preparation of Pillars of Peace: A Harmonization Handbook for Peace Operations, and is the author of Peace-Maintenance: The Evolution of International Political Authority (1999). Roger A. Coate is Professor of International Relations at the University of South Carolina, USA. Former co-editor of Global Governance journal, Coate has co-authored The United Nations and Changing World Politics (second edition, 1997) with Thomas Weiss and David Forsythe, and International Cooperation in Response to AIDS (1995) with Leon Gordenker, Christer Jönsson and Peter Söderholm. Dorinda G. Dallmeyer is a research director at the Dean Rusk Center for International and Comparative Law at the University of Georgia School of Law. A member of the Council on Foreign Relations, she also serves on the Board of Directors of the Academic Council on the UN System. Her work focuses on the role of negotiation in areas such as security, trade and international environmental law. Kassu Gebremariam is an adjunct professor at Wayne State University, in the Department of Anthropology where he teaches Contemporary African Politics. He has also taught at Addis Ababa University, Ethiopia. He holds a doctorate from York University and is co-author (with W. Andy Knight) of United Nations Intervention and State/Society (Re)Building in Somalia: Prospects for Peace Maintenance (forthcoming). Julian Harston is Deputy Special Representative of the UN SecretaryGeneral, United Nations Mission in Bosnia and Herzegovina. He was the Representative of the UN Secretary-General in Haiti and Chief of the UN Civilian Police Mission in that country from 1998 to 1999, Director of the UN office in Belgrade (1996–97), and Head of Political and Civil Affairs of the UN Peace Forces in the former Yugoslavia (1995–96). xxii

Notes on the Contributors xxiii

Tom Keating is Professor of Political Science at the University of Alberta, Edmonton. His teaching and research interests are in the areas of Canadian foreign policy and international politics. He has published essays and books on Canadian foreign and defence policy, international theory and international organizations, including Canada and World Order (1993). W. Andy Knight is an associate professor in the Department of Political Science at the University of Alberta. He is former Vice-Chair of the Academic Council on the UN System and currently co-editor of Global Governance journal. His recent publications include: A Changing United Nations (2000) and The United Nations and Arms Embargoes Verification (1998). Andrew A. Latham is assistant professor in the Department of Political Science at Macalester College, in St. Paul, Minnesota. He has a PhD from York University, Toronto. He has worked extensively with the Canadian Department of Foreign Affairs, as both a research associate and member of the Canadian delegation to the ‘Inhumane Weapons Convention’ review conference in Geneva (1994/5). Professor Latham has published in several leading international relations and international security journals, and is completing a book on the transnational campaign to ban landmines. Douglas Lee Donoho is Professor of Law at Shepard Broad Law Center, Nova Southeastern University, Florida, where he teaches International and Constitutional Law. He has published numerous articles on human rights in international law journals. Geoffrey R. Martin gained his PhD from the Political Science Department at York University in 1993. Since then, he has taught at a number of Atlantic Canadian universities and published numerous articles and book chapters on Global Relations and Canadian politics. He currently is Adjunct Professor of Political Science at Dalhousie University, Halifax, Nova Scotia. Joseph Masciulli is an assistant professor of Political Science at St. Thomas University in Canada. He is co-editor of Democratic Theory and Technological Society (with R. Day and R. Beiner) and author of several articles on Rousseau’s and Machiavelli’s philosophies of leadership. Andrei I. Maximenko is an assistant professor of political science in the Department of Social Sciences at Benedict College, Columbia, South Carolina. Born in the USSR, he graduated from the Moscow Institute of International Relations (1986) and served as a diplomatic officer in the Soviet Foreign Ministry (1986–90) before completing his PhD in International Studies at the University of South Carolina in 1999. Sorpong Peou is an associate professor of Political Science/International Relations in the Faculty of Comparative Culture at Sophia University,

xxiv Notes on the Contributors

Tokyo. Formerly a Fellow at the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies (Singapore), Peou obtained his doctorate from York University, Toronto. Michael G. Schechter is Professor of International Relations in James Madison College of Michigan State University. His most recent publications include the following edited books: Rethinking Globalization(s): from Corporate Transnationalism to Local Interventions (1999), Innovation in Multilateralism (1999) and Future Multilateralism: The Political and Social Framework (1999). Edwin M. Smith is the Leon Benwell Professor of Law and International Relations at the University of Southern California Law School. He holds an A.B. magna cum laude, Harvard University 1972, and a J.D., Harvard Law School 1976. He served as a fellow of the Council on Foreign Relations International Affairs (1987–88), and was Special Counsel for Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan (1987–88), Member of the US Science and Policy Advisory Committee of the Arms Control and Disarmament Agency (1995–99), Founding Member, Pacific Council on International Policy and Chair of the Academic Council of the United Nations System (1996–8). Professor Smith has also been a Member of the American Society of International Law since 1984 and was a consultant for the Ford Foundation Program on International Law and Organizations. Catherine Tinker practises law in New York City in the areas of environmental and international law and arbitration. She has taught in several American law schools and has published in a number of law journals. She holds a Doctorate of Judicial Science in Law in international law from New York University School of Law and serves as consultant to various international and national environmental organizations such as the Sierra Club. Abiodun Williams is the Special Assistant to the Representative of the UN Secretary-General in Haiti. He served as Political and Humanitarian Affairs Officer with UNPREDEP (1994–98) and prior to that was Assistant Professor of International Relations at Edmund A. Walsh School of Foreign Service at Georgetown University. He is editor of Many Voices: Multilateral Negotiations in the World Arena (1992).

Introduction: Adapting the United Nations W. Andy Knight

Introduction The debate about adapting the UN system to a rapidly changing world has reached a crescendo as we enter the new millennium. Can this multilateral body meet emerging and new demands of the coming era? Is the organization making the appropriate adjustments needed to make it a relevant social institution for the twenty-first century? How has the United Nations tried to adapt over the past 55 years of its existence? What lessons can be learned from this adaptation process, particularly over the last decade or so? Is it not time for scholars and practitioners who are preoccupied with the issue of global governance to begin to examine and clarify in a systematic manner what the role and place of the United Nations ought to be during this transition toward a postmodern era? These questions are important, particularly if one agrees with this book’s underlying assumption that in so far as multilateralism is an evolving phenomenon, its concrete manifestations (that is, multilateral institutions and regimes) must periodically undergo change to remain relevant.1 These queries lie at the heart of each and every contribution to this volume. Individual chapters draw out lessons learned from the laboratory of recent UN experience in the Charter-mandated fields occupied by this complex global trans-organization. Out of these specific analyses more general lessons are drawn in the conclusion of the book and specific recommendations are made with a view towards developing an ethical foundation for a more effective and relevant United Nations in the future. Framework of analysis The following chapters, written by international law and international relations scholars, examine a number of concepts and issues, themes and cases which carry implications for UN multilateral structures, processes and functions as the organization grapples with the pressure to adjust during a transitional period – from modernity to postmodernity, between state 1

2 W. Andy Knight

sovereignty and state transcendence. The book is divided into three parts. Part I provides a conceptual backdrop for the rest of the study. Part II analyses a number of issues pertaining to the United Nations’ struggle to balance reactive and proactive functions. This part also grapples with the United Nations’ realist and utopian underpinnings in what has become a bifurcated global system consisting of often competing state-centric and multi-centric subsystems. The confrontation and intersection of these two sub-systems are evident in Part III, which examines specific cases given the current period of transition facing the United Nations. From the three Parts, readers can draw lessons from the United Nations’ overall experience with adapting its structures, functions and processes to changing global conditions. Our job, as contributors to the debate about the United Nations’ future direction, is to elevate the discussion from the more mundane preoccupation with the tinkering institutional reforms that dominate the writings and practices related to the United Nations to a more philosophical and priorities-driven plane on which there is serious contemplation of a possible transformation of this organization. The aim is to get scholars and practitioners to shift gear from a fetishism with Taylorist reform and reflexive adaptation at the United Nations to a consideration of a learning strategy with respect to change in organization; from tinkering to rethinking its normative basis and, consequently, its role in an evolving global governance. Part I has two conceptual chapters. The first, by Roger Coate, W. Andy Knight and Andrei I. Maximenko, explores the requirements of multilateral governance in a postmodern era. The authors observe that the United Nations is a by-product of a particular historical moment – a moment fundamentally shaped by the project of modernity – and, in their view, adapting this organization to a postmodern era requires more than institutional reform or reflexive adjustments. They advocate a fundamental rethinking of the United Nations’ principles and goals not only in light of its inability to address effectively problems associated with human insecurity and maldevelopment, but also because many of the objectivist and universalist assumptions of modernity, which most UN member states hold, are proving to be increasingly inappropriate. Chapter 2 briefly examines the three basic ‘change process’ models employed in facilitating structural and functional adjustments in the United Nations. The first two, reform and reflexive adaptation, have been commonly utilized within the United Nations. The last one, learning, is the least utilized mode of change in the world body. Yet learning from past experiences is crucial if the United Nations is to become not only more efficient and effective, but also relevant in the years ahead. Evidence of emerging alternative multilateral processes and agencies that rival the United Nations has brought a greater sense of urgency to the debate over the methods employed to facilitate institutional change.

Introduction 3

The five chapters in Part II analyse the primary instruments used by the United Nations in its quest to fulfil its Charter obligation of managing and resolving conflicts. These instruments are collective security, preventive diplomacy, peacekeeping and peacemaking. Collective security refers to concerted coercive measures (including the use of military force) taken by members of the international community to halt aggression and restore international peace and security. Chapter VII of the UN Charter authorizes such action. Preventive diplomacy is action to prevent incipient disputes from arising between state parties, to prevent existing disputes from escalating into conflicts and to limit the spread of the latter when they occur. Peacemaking involves action to bring conflicting parties to an agreement. This can be done through such peaceful means as those included in Chapter VI of the UN Charter. Peacekeeping consists of the deployment of a UN presence in a theatre of conflict, usually with the consent of all the parties concerned, and normally involving UN military and police personnel, as well as civilians in some cases. The peacekeeping instrument expands the possibility of preventing existing conflicts from spreading. Its expanded and multifunctional version has led to what is now commonly known as post-conflict peacebuilding and (the less well-known) peace maintenance. These five chapters grapple with the blurring of UN functions in the peace and security realm which has accompanied the period since the end of the Cold War. Edwin M. Smith looks at the challenge being made to the assumed verities that have undergirded international relations since the Second World War. Specifically, he tries to understand the changing conceptions and the institutional adaptation that has taken place around the issue of collective security – the United Nations’ primary concern. In a similar vein, Michael G. Schechter revisits the concepts of UN preventive diplomacy and early warning, and recommends a reconceptualization and adaptation of these roles to suit the post-Cold War environment. Abiodun Williams brings his ground-level experience with the preventive deployment experiment in the former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia to bear on the issue of translating UN rhetoric of conflict prevention into substantive reality. Clearly, the United Nations’ Preventive Deployment (UNPREDEP) mission combined political will, timing, traditional consent with a host country, a clear UN Security Council mandate, an ideal blend of troops and adequate resources to ensure one of the true successes in recent UN peace operations. Lessons from this case are potentially useful for other UN operations. W. Andy Knight and Kassu Gebremariam switch to one of the pitiful UN intervention failures – the case of Somalia. They reveal the many problems associated with that UN mission and use this incident of failure to address the underlying roots of the conflict in that country to draw out valuable lessons for both intervention and pre- and post-conflict peacebuilding. Jarat Chopra concludes Part II with an astute analysis of the transition from mere rhetoric and declarations in the area of international

4 W. Andy Knight

criminal law to a new concern with enforcement. The breadth of his coverage ranges from ad hoc collective mechanisms and civil police operations under multinational forces aimed at apprehending, detaining, prosecuting and punishing criminal individuals to the recent creation of a permanent International Criminal Court along with the mechanisms for underwriting it. Chopra is very persuasive in his argument that the establishment of collective mechanisms for the enforcement of criminal law is as necessary for international society as it was for national society. Based on his appraisal, an opportunity now exists for this ideal to become reality. Part III puts empirical flesh on the conceptual bones of the book. Its nine chapters are rich in detail, broad in issue coverage and critical in disposition. The primary focus of the case studies presented here is on pre- and post-conflict prevention and peacebuilding. Peacebuilding is considered a counterpart of preventive diplomacy. It seeks to construct a new environment that would forestall violent conflicts and the breakdown of peaceful conditions.2 Whereas pre-conflict peacebuilding avoids conflicts from breaking out in the first place, post-conflict peacebuilding comes into play after a conflict has come to an end. The objective of this measure is to prevent a recurrence. Whereas preventive diplomacy offers, in most cases, first aid solutions to the problem of conflict, pre- and post-conflict peacebuilding can be largely designed to get at some of the root causes of conflict. In this final part of the book, we learn important lessons about how and why the United Nations has failed in addressing root causes of conflict in the past and about what institutional and functional adjustments are being made in response to such failure. Andrew A. Latham’s chapter provides a succinct overview of the evolution of the fact-finding mechanism that was initially established in the UN Secretary-General’s office to monitor and investigate allegations of chemical weapons use and violation of the 1925 Geneva Protocol. For Latham, the UN fact-finding function will have to be adapted to conditions in a changing global security order. However, current fact-finding is flexible enough to be utilized as a confidence-building measure and, with some modifications, it can be applied to various other verification contexts such as peacemaking and micro-disarmament. Dorinda G. Dallmeyer continues the theme of disarmament by examining the United Nations’ role in Iraq since the Gulf War. In light of the problems encountered by the UN Special Commission (UNSCOM) and the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) in Iraq,3 her call for well-developed standards, authoritative interpretive mechanisms, predictability and consistency in the application of future UN demilitarization and micro non-consensual disarmament measures will stand the test of time and will require more than simple tinkering with UN organizational structures and functions. The issue of UN civilian police functions has not been given much attention in the international organization, international relations and international law literature. Yet, as Julian Harston reminds us, civilian police

Introduction 5

components have been part of UN peacekeeping missions since the Congo operations in early 1960. By 1998, about a quarter of UN peacekeepers were civilian police officers. Ambassador Harston uses his intimate knowledge of the role of civilian police in the UN peacekeeping operation in Haiti to elaborate on the lessons learned for future UN civilian policing in attempts at neutralizing protracted conflicts. The neutralization of protracted conflicts theme is picked up by Sorpong Peou as he examines the case of the UN Transitional Authority in Cambodia (UNTAC). Peou, who was involved as an on-the-ground observer when UNTAC began its third party intervention mission in Cambodia, critically analyses the role of UNTAC in what was then an unprecedented mission – expanded, multifunctional peacekeeping aimed at ‘turning the battlefield into a ballot-box’. His primary goal is to get the reader thinking about the underlying causes of violence and to goad UN and government practitioners into developing preventive, rather than punitive, means of addressing such violence. The solutions may be considered ‘messy’ but, as we shall see, this is to be expected in the transition from modernity to postmodernity. David R. Black’s comparative analysis of UN transitional operations from UNTAC to the UN Transition Assistance Group in Namibia (UNTAG) is instructive for both scholars and UN officials who warily watch the ebb and flow of the success and failure of UN peace operations. Clearly the time has come for the United Nations to make some difficult decisions about which peace operations it will become involved in and which ones ought to be handed over to other bodies. The only way to do this properly is if the organization ‘learns to learn’ and to do so in a critical, non-self-congratulatory manner, as Black admonishes. The division of labour with respect to global peace operations is not something that can be worked out definitively in advance, as we see from the perceptive and critical chapter by Tom Keating. Conflicts, such as the one in Kosovo, are by and large sui generis.4 Therefore, it may not be possible to ‘set in stone’ rules about which multilateral institution is best suited to address a particular conflict. Keating suggests that the emerging security environment is one marked by a complex set of relationships amongst different institutions that have yet to agree upon ‘a satisfactory division of labour’. This was nowhere more evident than in the war in Kosovo which unleashed a torrent of debate about the legitimacy of regional organizations, such as the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), to speak for the ‘international community’ in civil conflict situations and about the humanitarianism of non-UN multinational military operations. Although the precise lessons are difficult to discern in this case, Keating implies that under the circumstances it would be useful if the various multilateral bodies engaged in global governance would agree on a ‘subsidiarity’ principle that can guide their future activity in the peace and security fields. The author warns, however, that the complexity underlying civil disputes and human security makes this task even more difficult.

6 W. Andy Knight

In light of the events in Kosovo, as well as the tragedy of East Timor and Rwanda, another difficult task confronts the ‘international community’ and the UN system. What can be done to arrest the massive violations of human rights we have witnessed in this past half-century? Answers to this question are normally equivocal because of the tension that exists between state sovereignty (as traditionally defined) and the obvious need for humanitarian intervention in several recent cases.5 This problem has become even more acute at this juncture, as Douglas Lee Donoho notes, because of the nature of transnational problems facing national governments. In his chapter on improving the capacity of the UN human rights system, Donoho argues that the time has come for a systematic assessment of the capacity of the international human rights machinery to enhance peace in a postmodern world. The focus on the weaknesses of this machinery allows the author to make specific suggestions about how the United Nations might strengthen its human rights decision-making capacity, particularly its ability to determine facts in a credible manner and to give content to those indeterminate human rights norms that may be essential in promoting peace. Promoting peace may also require a serious rethinking of the relationship between humans and the environment. This lies at the heart of Catherine Tinker’s chapter. Tinker’s attempt to redefine security in a postmodern context emerges out of the frustration of working within the ‘modernist’ framework so entrenched within the United Nations. Her focus on environmental security from an international law perspective adds much to the debate about the need to expand the definition of security and the appropriate ways of addressing non-military sources of instability.6 Implied in her analysis is the need for major adjustments to international law and the United Nations’ institutional machinery to accommodate nongovernmental actors in the global environmental policy-making framework. The next chapter by Geoffrey R. Martin deals with changing the global trade structure during this transitional period and tries to understand what it would take for a body on the periphery of the UN system, viz. the World Trade Organization (WTO) to become more central to the operations of the global political economy. For Martin, this would require a shift away from the harmonization movement in the global economy, endorsed by liberal theorists enamoured by the seeming inevitability of globalization forces, towards a new interface principle (as proposed by John Jackson) as a means of closing the widening gap between real-world economic development and the world of neoclassical trade theorists. Finally, Joe Masciulli joins me in clarifying some of the general lessons that can be learned from the collection of UN experiences in order to make specific recommendations on how the world body can be adapted so as to become more efficient and relevant in the future. The aim of the conclusion is to find an ethical foundation for a fundamentally transformed

Introduction 7

United Nations. The postmodern era is likely to be characterized by polycentricism and politics without a centre.7 What is required in such a changed socioeconomic and political governance environment is not simply a further tinkering with UN structures, processes and functions but rather an overhaul that begins with rethinking the normative and ethical base upon which this organization was founded. Such rethinking must then use a conceptual framework to construct a change mechanism that would facilitate the needed transformation of the United Nations. Our position is rooted in what we call idealpolitik – a mix of critical realism and liberal idealism that might advance multilateralism into the new millennium.

Notes 1. See W. Andy Knight, A Changing United Nations: Multilateral Evolution and the Quest for Global Governance (London: Macmillan, 2000). 2. A number of studies have been conducted recently on the issue of preventing the outbreak of violent conflicts and forestalling the relapse into violence. See, for instance, Roger Fisher, Andrea Kupfer Schneider, Elizabeth Borgwardt and Brian Ganson, Coping with International Conflict: A Systematic Approach to Influence in International Negotiation (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1997); Chester A. Crocker and Fen Osler Hampson with Pamela Aall (eds.), Managing Global Chaos: Sources of and Responses to International Conflict ( Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press, 1996), especially Parts III and IV; Michael S. Lund, Preventing Violent Conflicts: A Strategy for Preventive Diplomacy (Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press, 1996); and Tapio Kanninen, The Future of Early Warning and Preventive Action in the United Nations, Occasional Paper Series, no. 5, Ralph Bunche Institute on the United Nations (May 1991). 3. See W. Andy Knight, United Nations and the Verification of Arms Embargoes (New York: Edwin Mellen Press, 1998). 4. See James S. Sutterlin, The United Nations and the Maintenance of International Security: A Challenge to be Met (London: Praeger, 1995). 5. Kofi Annan, ‘Two Concepts of Sovereignty’, The Economist (18 September 1999), pp. 49–50. 6. See Karen T. Litfin, ‘Constructing Environmental Security and Ecological Interdependence’, Global Governance, vol. 5, no. 3 ( July–September 1999); Keith Krause and Michael Williams, ‘Broadening the Agenda of Security Studies: Politics and Methods’, Mershon International Studies Review, vol. 40, supplement 2 (October 1996); David Dewitt, David Haglund and John Kirton (eds.), Building a New Global Order: Emerging Trends in International Security (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993); Rob B. J. Walker, ‘Security, Sovereignty and the Challenge of World Politics’, in Michael Klare and Daniel Thomas (eds.), World Security at Century’s End (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1991); and Jessica Tuchman Matthews, ‘Redefining Security’, Foreign Affairs, vol. 68, no. 2 (Spring 1989). 7. On the latter point, see Vincent Della Sala, ‘Governance of Politics without a Centre’, paper presented to the SSHRC Trends Workshop, Victoria, BC (13 May 1999).

Part I Conceptualizing Change in the United Nations

1 Requirements of Multilateral Governance for Promoting Human Security in a Postmodern Era Roger A. Coate, W. Andy Knight and Andrei I. Maximenko

Introduction In this new millennium, creating the capacity to deal effectively with poverty, malnutrition, environmental degradation, resource depletion and other conditions associated with the dual processes of under- and over-development stands as one of the greatest challenges for those who profess a commitment to modernism’s promise of ‘progress’ with respect to improving human well-being worldwide. Despite more than four decades of efforts by multilateral organizations to promote human security and development, the well-being of the majority of humankind has not improved significantly and, in certain important respects, has actually declined. In this regard the institutional form that we call multilateralism has failed to meet its modernist objectives and expectations. Accordingly, whether or not one agrees with the argument that the world is moving into a postmodern era, one of the most important questions confronting students and practitioners of multilateralism is: what are the requirements for multilateral governance in a world where sovereignty, progress and other objectivist and universalist assumptions of modernity seem increasingly inappropriate or even destructive to the modernist programme?

Global governance in a postmodern culture What can one say about a normative emancipatory approach to multilateral governance that tacitly turns a blind eye to the plight of most of humankind in the name of progress? The main argument presented in this chapter is that in order to understand the requirements of multilateral governance for promoting and sustaining human security we must not only tell the king he is wearing no clothes, but we must also tell him that his reign and the assumptions upon which its legitimacy rests are no more 11

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than hyper-realist illusion; or to borrow a phrase from Jean Baudrillard, its emancipatory action script for promoting human security is fraudulent. What we are saying here is not new, nor is it really postmodern. This chapter, like many so-called ‘postmodern’ critiques of contemporary human affairs, is by its very nature embedded with modernist notions. As François Lyotard points out, ‘The “post”- indicates something like a conversion: a new direction from the previous one. … Now this idea of a linear chronology is itself perfectly “modern”.’1 Yet, at the same time, the position taken here is that the illusory emancipatory programme of ‘modern’, liberal, multilateral institutionalism can never be attained in the context of modernity and the contemporary, unholy alliance between liberalism, capitalism and positivist philosophy. To begin, let us examine modernism’s fundamental assumptions: 1. There is a continuous historical process that is common to all cultures. 2. There are certain universal norms (for example, freedom, equality) that are governed by reason. 3. History represents a progressive movement towards some advanced state of affairs (modernity), which is superior to what has come before. The modern nation-state, sovereignty and the inter-state legal order are the embodiments of that advanced (modern) state of human social affairs. Liberalism, capitalism and positivism build on this universalist foundation and reinforce a pre-eminent role for the individual over the community; privilege private property as a human right; and legitimate and recreate a political order of inequality and injustice by promoting a worldview founded in a Cartesian division of the social order into discrete spheres of reality. Social constructs are objectified, and predominant social forces of authoritative value allocation are removed through instrumental rationality from that which is viewed as ‘political’. Given this Cartesian logic, multilateral organizations and their role in global governance have become marginalized and non-emancipatory. Within the modernist framework, international institutions cannot be expected to be effective bodies for promoting human security for the masses primarily because they are state-centric. The main purpose of this chapter is to examine the possibility, and implications, of making a constructionist ‘jail break’ from the modernist worldview in order to demonstrate the emancipatory potential of multilateral organizations. From modernity to postmodernity Nicholas Onuf claims that modernity’s main features crystallized sometime between 1600 and 1800.2 It is not surprising, then, that it is also from this era that traditional international relations literature on multilateralism has gradually emerged.

Requirements of Multilateral Governance 13

Michael Williams, drawing on Benedict Anderson, in general terms outlines the ways in which ‘modernity’ embodies a set of categories concerning time, space and their political corollary: sovereignty. According to Williams, the representations of these categories of experience specific to modernity are central in coming to terms with the theoretical and practical elements constitutive in the emergence of the modern state system and its current internal transformations. In fact, many of the categories we use for thinking about contemporary international relations and the role of multilateral organizations emerge precisely from this heritage, and they continue to represent the dominant categories of thinking about global governance and multilateralism.3 Williams’ position is similar to Anthony Giddens’, who argues that ‘time–space distanciation’ permitted the ‘modern’ state to exert a greater degree of control over a wider expanse of territory than had been possible in pre-modern times.4 For example, the ability to utilize administrative and ‘surveillance’ technologies and techniques, to have the knowledge and material capability to control and protect territory in newly comprehensive ways, became symbolic of the era of modernity. Modernity as a conceptual category allowed the political realm to be imagined in ways that were fundamentally novel when compared to the feudal period. One example of this novel thinking can be found in the spatial depiction of community boundaries in nationalist terms, which took the form of geopolitics within traditional theories of international relations.5 Spatial metaphors that characterize traditional thinking about international relations are grounded in the categories of modernity itself. The reliance on spatial conceptions and representations of political order also penetrated traditional thinking about multilateral organizations; explicitly expressed in a number of principles embodied in the UN Charter. Principles such as self-determination (Article 1(2)), sovereign equality (Article 2(1)) and non-intervention (Article 2(7)) all represent a vision of the nature of the ‘modern’ political world. The emphasis on territorial sovereignty, that is, on boundary definition and maintenance, accounts for the prominence given in the Charter to ‘non-interference in the internal affairs of states’. When one realizes the extent to which conventional categories of understanding political life are increasingly unhelpful in illuminating present events, one begins to appreciate the argument that we are perhaps in a period of transition between ‘modernity’ and ‘postmodernity’. Central to this argument are the observations that: within the international political economy, there is an obvious breakdown of the Fordist–Keynesian model of national political economies as a result of the globalization of monetary and production relations; the advent of transnational ‘threats’ (such as environmental degradation, drug trafficking, AIDS, refugee flows and interethnic conflict) has penetrated our thinking about ‘security’ and is causing

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us to rethink notions such as sovereignty and boundary lines; the problems of migration, refugee flows and internally displaced persons are forcing us to examine the traditional container metaphor which, during the height of modernity, created clear distinctions between ‘inside–outside’ and ‘us’ versus ‘them’; an increase in the number of intra-state conflicts that spill over into threats to regional and sometimes international security has resulted in a relaxation of some of the rules and conventions against UN interference in the internal affairs of states; and, finally, the collapse of some states and the inability of others to address pressing problems and demands of their civil societies have led, in part, to a renegotiating of the relationship between states and civil societies and to a reconfiguration of their respective roles in national, regional and global governance. The above are only a few of the more obvious representations of the beginnings of a shift from ‘modernity’ to ‘postmodernity’. What each item represents at the broader level is the fact that political space can no longer be conceived as exclusively within national boundaries as was the case in the past, and that security and multilateral governance must be redefined to take into account this conceptual and practical shift.6 Security and multilateral governance Multilateral systems are generally concerned with security. Security is defined for the purpose of this study in the broadest sense to include both traditional and non-traditional notions. This definition recognizes that the traditional and dominant state-centric conception of security (that is, the elimination of military-strategic threats to the territorial and jurisdictional elements of the state) has had to compete with counter-hegemonic conceptions of security that are more inclusive, comprehensive and indivisible.7 Security in this transitional period In this period of transition to a postmodern era, military threats account for only one category of perceived and real threats to humanity. Robert Johansen points out that there are several other categories of threat to humankind, including ‘severe economic insecurity, deprivation of human rights, and environmental decay’.8 Any postmodern conception of security has to take these other threats into consideration because these are ‘issues on which the future conditions of life on the planet may well depend’.9 Thus, today, terms such as ‘human security’, ‘common security’ and ‘comprehensive security’ are being utilized to embrace the range of issues that are being placed on a revised security agenda of an emerging global polity.10 Reconceptualizing security in the above manner implies the need for a careful rethinking of how the United Nations ought to confront this subject. After all, its primary mandate is to maintain international peace and security. ‘International’ peace and security have generally implied a common international interest in maintaining peace around the globe. However, in

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postmodern usage they may also imply global interest in peace and security that transcends (and even contradicts) the more exclusive interests of individual sovereign nation-states.11

Traditional multilateralism The traditional approach to multilateralism is derived from state-centric and hierarchical understandings of world order and global governance. This approach takes as given the existing institutionalized forms of cooperation and usually entertains only incremental and piecemeal changes to those forms. A key assumption of this approach is that international institutions somehow maintain an equilibrium in the interstate system through coordination, formal and ad hoc arrangements, reciprocity and predictability. Multilateralism, in this view, provides an escape valve at key pressure points in the history of the interstate system, which in turn allows that system to function with a minimum amount of disruption and violence. Keohane (1990) demonstrates this kind of thinking in his nominalistic definition of multilateralism.12 Multilateralism for him is ‘the practice of coordinating national policies in groups of three or more states, through ad hoc arrangements or by means of institutions’. Ruggie’s more analytic definition alerts us to the fact that there is more to multilateralism than Keohane’s definition implies. Ruggie argues that it also embraces certain principles and norms which order the relationship of states, and that it can be conceived as ‘an architectural form’ or ‘deep organizing principle’ of global society.13 These traditional definitions of multilateralism view it as an activity to be engaged in by states.14 Since the signing of the Treaty of Westphalia (1648) until the end of the nineteenth century, multilateral activity was limited primarily to European states, manifested through such vehicles as the Concert of Europe (1815), the Congresses of Vienna, Paris and Berlin (1815, 1856 and 1878, respectively), the London Conferences (1871 and 1912–13), the Berlin Congresses (1878 and 1884–85), the Algeciras Conference (1906) and the Hague Conferences (1899 and 1907). By the end of the nineteenth century, multilateralism had evolved to include activities of a broader range of states through formal, more permanent, intergovernmental organizations (IGOs), brought into existence by the selfsame states to facilitate their interactions. Functional public international unions and agencies, the Permanent Court of International Justice (PCIJ), the League of Nations and the United Nations are examples of key intergovernmental organizations. Traditional multilateralism is not just state-centred; it perpetuates the dominance of states that are in the top strata of the hierarchical state system.15 The modernist approach to multilateralism, in accepting uncritically the existing configuration of state and economic power, opts for piecemeal reforms to existing institutional structures and processes of multilateral

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organizations so long as these changes are in accordance with the overall vision of ‘status quo’ elements. This approach is not sensitive to the impact of exogenous forces on institutions like the United Nations and tends to focus more on developing an endogenous incremental and reformist agenda. In other words, it attempts to adapt the existing multilateralist framework without questioning the constitutive principles or underlying ideas of world politics embodied in extant multilateral bodies. However, it is only through fundamental questioning that a new approach to multilateralism can emerge.

The ‘new’ multilateralism The ‘new’ multilateral approach begins by questioning accepted multilateral principles, institutions and processes.16 In the transition period from modernity to postmodernity studies on multilateralization have extended their scope to embrace the notion of ‘international regimes’ or consensual practices, developed through common principles, norms, rules and decision-making procedures, around which certain groups of actors converge in given issue areas.17 In one sense, this literature signals the fact that multilateral activities encompass more than the operations of formal inter-state or international organizations. Some regimists note that global governing arrangements could be found both within and outside formal international institutions. Recently we have seen a further broadening of the study of multilateralism to include activities of non-governmental organizations (NGOs).18 Thus, in the present transitional period, multilateralism is undergoing an evolution, one that has gradually embraced a growing number of actors (state and non-state) and has broadened the scope of the subject matter of international organization.19 The concept of multilateralism, revised in the context of postmodernity, is one that conceives of the multilateral process as a longue durée in historical terms and views the UN system as representing the institutionalization of a particular form of world order, viz. the immediate post-1945 world order. In accordance with this critical view, the UN system is not treated as a given. Its institutional arrangements are relevant only for a specified period and must inevitably be adapted, transformed or even radically modified over time as material circumstances change and prevailing meanings, practices and purposes are challenged by new intersubjective voices. Failure to meet the emerging needs and demands of states and civil societies will mean a loss of relevance for the United Nations. It could also result in the emergence of rival multilateral instruments to fill the vacuum left by a marginalized United Nations. The development of postmodern multilateral instruments can be viewed as open systems which will necessarily be affected by their broader

Requirements of Multilateral Governance 17

environment. These ‘open systems’ will embody the changing relationships of power and understanding of the world order at a particular historical juncture. As international society changes so will there be pressure on multilateral systems to adjust and accommodate to such change. It is also possible that postmodern changes in the world order may open up new opportunities for existing multilateral institutions to become transformed or significantly altered, creating ‘third generation’ or ‘successor’ organizations whose task it will be to establish a ‘new’ multilateralism that is more conducive to a postmodern world.20 As suggested in a series of recent studies on Multilateralism and the UN System (MUNS), a critical approach to multilateralism is to be preferred to the traditional problem-solving one, especially at this time of international societal transition, turbulence and change.21 Global governance and the ‘new’ multilateralism Global governance is used by MUNS scholars as the starting point for addressing the issue of the nature of multilateralism at this time. The idea of global governance includes those procedures and practices that exist at the world (or regional) level for the management of political, economic and social affairs. This definition is compatible with that of the Commission on Global Governance, which defined governance as ‘the sum of the many ways individuals, and institutions, public and private, manage their common affairs’ and as ‘a continuing process through which conflicting and diverse interests is accommodated and cooperative action taken’.22 Institutions in the context of the Commission’s definition can be understood as broadly accepted ways of organizing particular spheres of social action. ‘Governance’ is distinguishable from ‘government’ and can occur with or without governmental apparatus.23 Thus, the act of governance can take place at several different locales – neighbourhood collectives, town councils, multi-urban centres, stock exchanges, multinational banking centres, bond rating agencies, municipalities, provincial and national governments, and at regional, trans-regional and global levels. Multilateral governance is thus conceived as involving the establishment of sets of rules and procedures that govern interaction among multiple forces that become, or are becoming, involved in political issues that demonstrate global import. Global political issues refer to broad issues involving the contestation of power and transcending the narrow interests of states. Developing an approach to multilateral governance without considering the ‘power’ element in international politics would be a major mistake. As a recent South Centre study points out: in an international community ridden with inequities and injustice, institutionalizing global governance without paying attention to the question of who wields power, and without adequate safeguards, is tantamount to sanctioning governance of the many weak by the powerful few.24

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According to Robert Cox, multilateralism should theoretically be non-hierarchical.25 However, the traditional practices of multilateralism have been more hierarchical than non-hierarchical. Therefore, one can correctly conceive of two distinct ideal models of multilateralism. A ‘top-down’ variant has been the most dominant up to this point and has been used to obscure dominant–sub-dominant relationships at the international level and to embed certain ideas and constitutive principles held by the most powerful members of the inter-state system. The United Nations is primarily a ‘topdown’ system in that the underlying ideas of great power management and embedded liberalism are entrenched in that body and have been used by the dominant member states to maintain control over its important operations and fundamental structures. Nevertheless, the United Nations has not remained static since its founding; it has taken on a life of its own in response to challenges to the dominant tendencies prevailing in that institution. Indeed, the United Nations has become the locus at which counter-hegemonic and ‘bottom-up’ forces challenge hierarchical power tendencies. The MUNS project has declared its normative goal as the empowerment of marginalized ‘bottom-up’ forces in relation to the dominant ‘top-down’ ones so as to encourage the development of a more democratic, equitable and just form of multilateral governance. This is a continuing project that seeks to privilege the underprivileged, focus on the non-hierarchical possibilities of future multilateralism, and envisage a long-term strategy of radical change to multilateral instruments.

The United Nations and multilateral governance in a postmodern era The promotion and maintenance of human security lie at the heart of global governance and constitute the United Nations’ primary raison d’être. As suggested in the UNDP Human Development Report (1993), human security, democratization and sustainable development are inextricably linked. Sustainable development is aimed at cumulatively improving and sustaining human security and reducing perceived and actual threats to physical and psychological well-being from all manner of agents and forces that could degrade their lives, values and property. In short, enhancing human security is what development is about. In this context, the UNDP Report provides much insight for identifying the prerequisites of effective multilateral governance and assessing potential roles for the UN system in promoting human security. The Report proposed ‘five new pillars of a people-centered world order: new concepts of human security, new models of sustainable human development, new partnerships between state and markets, new patterns of national and global governance, and new forms of international cooperation.’26 We expand on these themes in exploring potentially fruitful roles for multilateral organizations

Requirements of Multilateral Governance 19

(with specific emphasis on UN agencies) in promoting and facilitating human security and sustainable human development. Human security While peacekeeping, peacemaking and peace enforcement continue to be important elements of the United Nations’ mandate in the post-Cold War world, making human beings secure means more than protecting them from armed violence. As noted in the 1993 UNDP report, human security must stress the security of people, not only that of nations. The concept of security must change from an exclusive stress on national security to a much greater focus on people’s security, from security through armaments to security through human development, from territorial security to food, employment and environmental security.27 Thus sustainable development can be viewed as a process of improving and sustaining human security. Sustainable development, like human security, is a qualitative condition that entails individual and/or collective perceptions of low threat to physical and psychological well-being from all manner of agents and forces that could degrade their lives, values and property. At a minimum, people may be considered secure if they are protected from the threat of the physical destruction of their lives or property as a result of assault from others. But maximum human security can be imagined in a totally threat-free environment where human beings are protected against all manner of threats. Various qualities of human security can be imagined depending on the relative ordering of priorities that people place on the satisfaction of their needs, values and interests. The UNDP assigns to itself and other multilateral development agencies the task of elevating the quality of security in human environments. While this amounts rhetorically to pouring old conceptual wine called ‘development’ into a new conceptual bottle called ‘human security’, the new conceptualization is useful because it emphasizes the psychological end-state of development instead of the more mechanical processes of developing. Enhancing human security means that individuals sense and perceive themselves as increasingly secure. Human security also bridges the traditional bifurcation of international organizations’ agendas where questions of ‘war and peace’ have been quite strictly separated from ‘economic and social’ issues. Within this new conceptualization, peace is distinct from direct violence as an attribute of a humanly secure environment, but it is only one attribute. Establishing peace from direct violence, according to this view, becomes an instrumentality of international organizations’ action, while enhancing human security becomes the goal towards which that instrumentality is applied. The notion of ‘human security’, furthermore, focuses attention directly on individuals and their circumstances, and thereby constitutes a subtle challenge to state sovereignty. To make people psychologically secure may

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be, under some circumstances, the antithesis of making governments secure, especially when state entities themselves are the perpetrators of individual insecurities. Pressing international organizations into service of individually focused (rather than state-focused) human security, therefore, could constitute an incremental step towards circumventing or marginalizing states and legitimizing supranational governance. Most importantly, conceptualizing the United Nations’ mission as one of comprehensively promoting human security rather than separately promoting economic and social development, sustainable development, peace or a variety of other goals, frees the policy imagination to contemplate holistically the nature and variety of threats to individuals’ environments. Further, it frees the policy imagination to consider how such threats may be removed. Because the sources of human insecurity will vary from region to region, so too will the meaning of human security and the missions of international organizations. It is likely that in many, if not most, cases multilateral agencies will not be appropriate, efficient or effective mechanisms for transferring material development assistance. On the other hand, some international agencies appear to be relatively better suited for promoting and enhancing human security via policies, programmes and activities that focus on non-material resource transfers and exchanges, including training, the exchange of ideas and information, and so forth. But such a shift of institutional focus requires rethinking the nature and meaning of sustainable human development. Towards new models of sustainable human development The abovementioned UNDP report argued that people’s participation is becoming the central issue of our time, and it is inextricably linked with, and is an inherent component of, both sustainable human development and larger notions of sustainable human security. Yet the concept of participation has proved to be a very woolly one, and the discourse over its meaning has been less than focused. In the World Bank, for example, popular participation has at various times and in various contexts been articulated as and associated with: the ‘empowerment’ of NGOs and the enhancement of their involvement in World Bank policy-making; increasing the accountability to and control of World Bank projects and activities by ‘domestic’ actors; and promoting the active engagement in project planning of previously excluded individuals and groups as well as stressing the importance of local knowledge and the satisfaction of local needs. All these aspects of the global discourse in the World Bank over participation are, of course, important; yet it is not clear that this discourse has done much to change the course of World Bank policy so that it enhances human security or redesigns the status quo model of development. New models of development are needed which are firmly grounded in a basic human needs framework. John Burton has provided one of the

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clearest and most compelling arguments relating the satisfaction of basic human needs to human development: The human individual has particular capabilities, certain limitations in response, and, therefore, certain needs to be secured within the environment if he/she is to survive. Obvious needs are food and water. However, an important part of survival is growth and development. The new-born can survive only if it develops … . The survival-growth mechanism requires an environment that is consistent: without consistent responses there can be no learning. A sense of identity of self is required so that the individual can experience separation of self from the environment. It requires a measure of physical security for there to be consistency in response. It must have, therefore, some capability to control the environment for these purposes … . Thus, we can deduce that the human organism and human societies have certain needs which must be fulfilled that are social in character, and, in terms of species survival, that are at least as important as the so-called ‘basic’ needs of food and water.28 Building on the work of Paul Sites,29 Burton identifies eight fundamental human needs: consistency of response, stimulation, security, recognition, justice, meaning, rationality and control. He sees peace as being inextricably tied to the fulfilment of these needs. For him, development models that ignore this proposition are likely to be counterproductive. Individuals will strive to satisfy needs, even at the cost of personal disorientation and social disruption. Individuals whose needs are not being met within a given social order will express deviant behaviour through withdrawal, activity on the fringes of legality, or reformist and revolutionary activities within and outside the law. While Burton’s thesis seems too rigid in assuming that all human action is best understood as needs fulfilment behaviour, it is reasonable to assume that societal stability/change and human development are dependent on the satisfaction of individual needs in communal contexts. Therefore, development models and institutional policies which ignore or fail to take adequate account of human needs or which frustrate needs satisfaction for large numbers of individuals, may well be eroding human security, inhibiting sustainable human development and frustrating, not promoting, peace. At the heart of a human needs approach is the concept of ‘legitimacy’. Conventional thinking seldom makes any clear distinction between that which is legal and that which is legitimized. Legitimacy of governance processes has its foundations in the satisfaction of needs, not in processes by which authorities are selected, and it is in this light that democracy and popular participation are linked to human development. Conceptualizations of ‘democracy’ which focus narrowly on procedural phenomena are not likely to have positive impacts with regard to promoting sustainable human

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development and human security. Burton goes further to argue that the needs factor creates a major dilemma in contemporary times in relation to political and economic structures. Socialism can create distributive justice, but it is likely to deny identity, control and stimulus. Capitalism provides opportunities for some for recognition, control and stimulus, and in doing so creates distributive injustices. The historical process is a search, not for a structural ‘ism’, but for a concept that concentrates on processes by which structures can change and evolve in the quest for human needs.30 This historical process, Burton suggests, is the result of conflict between institutional values and human needs, ‘between the structures and norms created and supported by powerful elites and the human needs that must be met at the individual level if societies are to be functionally efficient and harmonious’.31 Thus the historical dialectic of societal needs and allocation and control structures versus processes of human needs fulfilment lies at the heart of human evolution and needs governance and needs to be taken into account by those wishing to promote human security and sustainable human development through multilateral institutions. New partnerships between state, markets and other elements of society No matter the direction of new models of sustainable human development, one thing is clear: new forms of cooperation and partnerships must be created among states, markets and other elements of what might be referred to as civil society. While we may live in a post-Cold War world, we also live in a multicultural world in which even the remotest areas are permeated by the capitalist global economy and associated social institutions. Underdevelopment and human insecurity need to be viewed in such a context. Human development, sustainable or otherwise, has to take place in spite of the capitalist global economy, not because of it. Our conceptualizations of governance must be delinked from statecentred and liberal, ideologically-based worldviews that elevate ‘politics’ as a discrete sphere of reality separable from other social processes of authoritative value allocation. National governments are not the primary controllers of authoritative value allocation processes in contemporary society. This is not to say that national governments are not important mechanisms for effecting change in patterns and processes of allocation. The point is more simply that state mechanisms are but one type of institutional mechanisms of governance, and identity with state or nation is but one form of identity grouping which provides legitimacy for authoritative governance structures and processes. In many cases, religious identity, ethnic identity, identity with the workplace and others are at least as important for determining authoritative allocation as is national or state identity. Conceiving of social order in this way entails moving beyond state-based conceptions of world order. Indeed, much scholarly work has already been done in this area. The focus of concern has ranged widely from a traditional

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focus on the role of NGOs in international institutions32 to studies of the role of local publics and epistemic communities in global policy processes and the evolution global civil society,33 and to an even broader and critically probing focus on the role of transnational social movements in global governance and popular participation in the work of international agencies.34 Yet there is much distance to go in breaking through the statecentred conceptual blinkers that imprison our models of global governance. The conceptualization of civil society needs to be broadened if we are to promote human security in the multicultural world with vastly different social and cultural norms, institutions and processes. While the concept serves to focus attention on non-state aspects of governance, it also serves to perpetuate an image of world ordered around a state/non-state dimension. The concept of civil society is both helpful and limiting. The notion may not seem to be problematic in the context of advanced industrial societies, where associational-based interest groups play a major role in processes of governance. Yet in vast areas of the world, associational interest groups are insignificant. More often in vast areas of Africa, Asia and to a lesser extent in Latin America non-associational groupings (ethnic groups, religious groups, kinship groupings) and institutional groups, such as political parties, armies, churches, governmental bureaucracies and similar identity groupings serve important roles in governance processes – aggregating and articulating interests, establishing norms, and implementing programmes/projects. In this context the boundary between the ‘state’ and ‘civil society’ is porous and artificial. The most important point to make here is that promoting human security and sustainable human development for most of the world’s peoples requires an adequate mapping of all relevant realms of social space and the creation of partnerships between those diverse, often contradictory and sometimes conflictual social forces and entities. This process, in turn, entails developing new patterns of governance. New patterns of governance at various levels Because of the above, the sovereignty-locked world of the United Nations is unlikely to be the best place to organize and administer the international community’s sustainable development effort. None the less, given the relationship between sustainable development and human security and the United Nations’ pre-eminent role in promoting human security, it is important to clarify exactly what it is that we can expect of the world organization in relation to promoting security and development. The United Nations, indeed, seems to have an important role to play in providing for the security and welfare of starving people, sick children and others who cannot provide for themselves. In this regard, the dispensing of welfare via transfers of material resources would seem to be an important

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and relevant function. Yet, such material resource transfer is not a formula for development and should not be considered as such. The United Nations’ main role in promoting sustainable development involves its forum function, and its associated roles in standard-setting, norm-creation and promotion, and facilitating discourse in the ever-evolving global value dialectic. That global debate among culturally diverse peoples over value clarification is an essential element of creating new models for sustainable development that go beyond the sloganizing of the past. It would seem that the most important single element of this global debate over value clarification revolves around the triangular nexus of global governance concepts: democracy/participation, sustainable human development and human security. None of these concepts should be seen as being culturally or ideologically netural. Nor are they value-free with regard to the priority emphasis placed on the satisfaction of certain human needs and values by certain individuals or social groups at the expense of other needs, values or groups. Thus the role of UN agencies in promoting goals related to these concepts is unlikely to be non-controversial. As privileged positions, statuses, power bases and ideologically narrow and culturally-specific meanings come under threat by the challenge of other preferred meanings, strong defences can be expected to be mounted. Indeed, those who claim the ‘high moral ground’ in these ideological debates might well in the end fight against any meaningful role by the United Nations, especially as those challenges touch on the issue of state sovereignty. New forms of international cooperation Promoting human security requires new patterns of national and global governance. It is time to reconsider the proposition that tinkering with the United Nations will in some meaningful way enhance the world organization’s effectiveness and relevance in the operational development sphere. This is not to say that administrative, budgetary, programmatic and structural reform are not needed or important. What we are suggesting is that it is naive to assume, no matter how extensive and successful reform efforts might be, that such reform would transform the United Nations into an effective development organization. Moreover, the United Nations’ role in the development area is unlikely to be improved significantly by enacting any of the reforms currently under consideration. The coordination of development assistance should take place at the lowest and not the highest organizational level, preferably by ‘recipients’ at the micro level. The UN system is decentralized and is likely to remain that way. A ‘shopping mall’ model – stressing competition among suppliers and cooperation driven by functional need (that is, ‘coordination without hierarchy’) – would seem to be a far more appropriate model for engendering effective cooperation among the various groups involved in global governing.

Requirements of Multilateral Governance 25

All of this cries out for new forms of international cooperation that focus on enhancing multilateral capacities – perhaps with the United Nations, or perhaps beyond it – for:





establishing global norms and standards where appropriate; building consensuses regarding goals and priorities; responding to threats to human security; providing for the welfare of starving people, sick children and others who cannot provide for themselves;
providing relevant models, training and making other nonmaterial resource transfers;
promoting partnerships among widely differing elements of civil society;
facilitating networking processes and serving as nodes and linking pins for exchange of information and other resources in our network society.

All these new directions will require leadership which, unfortunately, is currently in very short supply in the United Nations. In keeping the main thrust of the 1993 UNDP report, it seems time to extend the search for that leadership far beyond the walls of the international agencies themselves and the member states that comprise them, and to tap the wealth of talent in civil society.

Notes 1. Jean-François Lyotard, The Postmodern Condition: a Report on Knowledge; translated from the French by Geoff Bennington and Brian Massumi (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1984), p. 76. 2. Nicholas Onuf, ‘Sovereignty: Outline of a Conceptual History’, Alternatives (Fall 1991), pp. 425–6. 3. Michael Williams, ‘Peacekeeping and the Politics of Post-Modernity’. Paper presented at the Workshop on UN Reform Issues in the 1990s and Beyond, Centre for International and Security Studies, York University, Ontario, Canada (18–20 September 1992). 4. Anthony Giddens, Consequences of Modernity (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1990). 5. R. B. J. Walker, ‘Realism, Change, and International Relations Theory’, International Studies Quarterly (March 1987). 6. See David Held, ‘Democracy and Globalization’, Alternatives (Spring 1991). 7. On the reconceptualization of security, see R. B. J. Walker, ‘Security, Sovereignty and the Challenge of World Politics’, in Michael Klare and Daniel Thomas (eds.), World Security at Century’s End (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1991); and Carolyn Stephenson (ed.), Alternative Methods for International Security (New York: University Press of America, 1988), especially pp. 30–4. 8. Robert Johansen, ‘Global Security without Nuclear Deterrence: The Necessity for Alternatives’, in Charles Kegley and Eugene Wittkopf (eds.), The Nuclear Reader: Strategy, Weapons, War (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1989), p. 78. 9. Brian Urquhart and E. Childers, A World in Need of Leadership (Uppsala: Hammarskjöld Foundation, 1991), p. 7.

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10. C. C. Pentland, ‘European Security after the Cold War’, in David Dewitt, David Haglund and John Kirton (eds.), Building a New Global Order: Emerging Trends in International Security (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993), pp. 64–7. 11. Michael Howard, ‘The United Nations and International Security’, in A. Roberts and B. Kingsbury, United Nations, Divided World (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), p. 31. 12. Robert Keohane, ‘Multilateralism: An Agenda for Research’, International Journal, vol. xiv (4) (Autumn 1990). 13. See John Gerard Ruggie, ‘Multilateralism: the Anatomy of an Institution’, International Organization, vol. 46, no. 3 (Summer 1992), p. 567. 14. Inis Claude, Jr., Swords into Plowshares: the Problems and Progress of International Organization, 4th edition (New York: Random House, 1984), p. 22. 15. See, for example, Joseph Nye, Jr., Bound to Lead: The Changing Nature of American Power (New York: Basic Books, 1990); and Robert Keohane, After Hegemony: Cooperation and Discord in the World Political Economy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1984). 16. The term ‘new multilateralism’ emerged out of discussions at a symposium in Fiesole (Italy) in September 1992 (part of the MUNS project concept by Robert Cox), which considered the implications for multilateralism of world order changes, different philosophical approaches to the study of multilateralism, and the views of world order held by different civilizations. The new multilateralism envisaged would be one that is coherent with a future post-Westphalian, postglobalization and post-hegemonic world. 17. See Stephen Krasner (ed.), International Regimes (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1983). 18. Tom Weiss and Leon Gordenker, NGOs, the UN, and Global Governance (Boulder, Col.: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1996). 19. For a clear understanding of the evolution of multilateralism as both a concept and a process, see Robert Cox, ‘Multilateralism and World Order’, Review of International Studies, vol. 18, no. 2 (April 1992). 20. See Maurice Bertrand, ‘The Role of the UN System in the Context of Changing Global Structure’. Paper presented at an International Conference on ‘Changing World Order and the United Nations System’, Yokohama, Japan (24–27 March 1992), p. 9; Maurice Bertrand, Some Reflection on Reform of the United Nations (Geneva: Joint Inspection Unit, 1985) U/REP/85/9, especially para. 1; and, United Nations Association of the United States of America, A Successor Vision: The United Nations of Tomorrow (New York: UNA–USA, 1987). 21. These studies emerged out of a research project initiated by Robert Cox and the United Nations University. The following books (in chronological order) have been published under the MUNS project: Yoshikazu Sakamoto (ed.), Global Transformation: Challenges to the State System (Tokyo: United Nations University Press, 1994); Keith Krause and W. Andy Knight (eds.), State, Society and the United Nations System: Changing Perspectives on Multilateralism (Tokyo: United Nations University Press, 1995); Robert Cox (ed.), The New Realism: Perspectives on Multilateralism and World Order (London: Macmillan/United Nations University Press, 1996); Stephen Gill (ed.), Globalization, Democratization and Multilateralism (London: Macmillan for the United Nations University Press, 1996); Michael Schechter (ed.), Innovation in Multilateralism (London: Macmillan for the United Nations University Press, 1996); Michael Schechter (ed.), Future Multilateralism: the Political and Social Framework (London: Macmillan for the United Nations

Requirements of Multilateral Governance 27

22. 23.

24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32.

33.

34.

University Press, 1997); and James P. Sewell (ed.), Multilateralism in Multinational Perspective: Viewpoints from Different Languages and Literatures (London: Macmillan for the United Nations University Press, 1997). See The Commission on Global Governance, Our Global Neighborhood (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995), p. 2. On this point, see Oran Young, International Governance: Protecting the Environment in a Stateless Society (Ithaca: NY Cornell University Press, 1994), pp. 15–19; and Oran Young, ‘The Politics of International Regime Formation: Managing Natural Resources and the Environment’, International Organization, 43 (1989b), pp. 349–75, M. Zürn, ‘Bringing the Second Image (Back) in: About the Domestic Sources of Regime Formation’, in V. Rittberger (ed.), Regime Theory and International Relations (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993). The South Centre, For a Strong and Democratic United Nations: A South Perspective on UN Reform (Geneva: The South Centre, 1996), p. 32. See Robert Cox, ‘Multilateralism and World Order’, Review of International Studies, vol. 18, no. 2 (April 1992), p. 161. United Nations Development Program, Human Development Report 1993 (New York: United Nations, 1993), p. 2. Ibid., p. 2. John Burton, ‘World Society and Human Needs: The Problem of Conflict Resolution’ (College Park, Md: University of Maryland, mimeo, 1984), pp. 10–11. Paul Sites, Control: The Basis of Social Order (New York: Dunellen, 1973). John Burton, Deviance, Terrorism and War: The Process of Solving Unsolved Social and Political Problems (London: Martin Robertson, 1979), pp. 64–8. Ibid., pp. 83–4. D. Korten, Getting to the 21st Century: Voluntary Action and the Global Agenda (Hartford’, Conn.: Kumarian Press, 1990); The Stanley Foundation, The UN System and NGOs: New Relationships for a New Era (Muscatine, Iowa: Stanley Foundation, 1994). For examples, see Chadwick Alger, ‘Citizens and the UN System in a Changing World’, in Y. Sakamoto (ed.), Global Transformation: Challenges to the State System (Tokyo: United Nations University Press, 1994); Peter Haas, ‘Introduction: Epistemic Communities and International Policy Coordination’, International Organization, vol. 26, no. 1 (Winter 1992); R. Lipschutz, ‘Reconstructing World Politics: The Emergence of Global Civil Society’, Millennium, vol. 21, no. 3 (1992); and P. Wapner, Environmental Activism and World Civic Politics (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1996). P. Nelson, ‘Transnational NGO Networks in Global Governance: Promoting “Participation” at the World Bank’. Paper delivered at the 37th Annual Meeting of the International Studies Association, San Diego, 16–21 April 1996; F. Quadir and T. Shaw, ‘Relations between Non- and Inter-governmental Organizations: Comparing the United Nations System and the World Bank’. Paper delivered at the 37th Annual Meeting of the International Studies Association, San Diego, 16–21 April 1996; M. Shaw, ‘Civil Society and Global Politics: Beyond a Social Movement Approach’, Millennium, vol. 23, no. 2 (Winter 1994); J. Smith, ‘Transnational Social Movements, Entrepreneurial Leadership and International Agendas’. Paper delivered at the 37th Annual Meeting of the International Studies Association, San Diego (16–21 April 1996).

2 Learning in the United Nations W. Andy Knight

Introduction This chapter examines a possible process of change – institutional learning – that ought to be utilized at this specific juncture in multilateral institutions such as the UN system. From much of the recent research done on institutional change in the United Nations, it is clear that the predominant modes of change utilized have been those of reflexive adaptation and reform.1 While there has been some institutional learning, this has been limited to specific conjunctures in the organization’s history. The conclusion of this book calls for a greater utilization of institutional learning as a means of rethinking the underlying reasons for the United Nations’ existence and of better coping with the turbulent, transitional environment in which multilateral institutions find themselves. This chapter critically analyses the choice the United Nations faces between tinkering and rethinking, that is, between reformist, incremental and more far-reaching or transformative changes.

Reform, adaptation and learning in multilateral organs The UN system is still operating within the framework of the modernist constitutive principles upon which it was based at its 1945 initializing moment. Evidence of this exists in the fact that few transformative changes have been made over the past 55 years. Consequently, it has been argued by some that the United Nations increasingly appears to be ‘a decision frozen in time’. Others propose that the United Nations should be transformed from a ‘second-generation’, multilateral body to a ‘third-generation’ world organization.2 While there have obviously been some adjustments made over the years, the majority of UN change efforts have been reformist and incremental, that is, not involving major structural or foundational changes and usually brought about in a piecemeal fashion. This is so because most of the member states and key individuals operating 28

Learning in the United Nations 29

within the UN Secretariat are divided over what should be changed and, more important, are hesitant to embrace any radical approaches to institutional change. This is not to say, however, that attempts at adaptation and learning have been non-existent within the UN system.3 Before taking a cursory look at the various forms of change that have occurred within the United Nations, it is important to clarify three of the key terms used to describe change in the UN context: reform, adaptation and learning. Too often, the term ‘reform’ is used interchangeably in the international organization literature with all other various forms of change. This has led to misuse of the word. Reform Reform is a code word for planning and managing change. The term planned change, as used in the organizational theory literature, signifies ‘an intended, designed, or purposive attempt by an individual, group, organization, or larger social system to influence directly the status quo of itself, another organism, or a situation’.4 Connor and Lake call this ‘managed change process’ – the ‘purposeful’ aspects of organizational change.5 Chin draws the distinction between change as a ‘phenomenon’ and change as a managed ‘set of actions’.6 Programmes linked to the latter have a lot in common with the rational comprehensive model in decision-making theory and the rationalistic comprehensive planning model in organizational theory and rational choice theory.7 What these positions hold in common is the assumption that individual and organizational behaviour is determined wholly by rationality, that is, individuals or organizations seek to maximize (or at least satisfy) certain values or interests at the lowest possible cost to themselves through the utilization of cost/benefit or means/ends calculations.8 Drawing on organizational theory literature, we can propose that reform in the United Nations involves conscious, deliberate and collaborative efforts to ‘improve’ the operations of the system through a selection of strategies at key intervention points in the change-management process. Those strategies include: 1. the identification of the objects of change, that is, the individual task behaviours or organizational processes (personnel activity, methods of control, information transmittal or decision-making apparatus) and the organization’s strategic direction (its ideology, norms, values, customs and goals); 2. deciding the methods of change, for example, should the change be initiated through the use of technological, structural and/or managerial or other human methods? 3. developing a strategic plan of implementation, that is, those ‘strategies that will be most appropriate and useful for accomplishing the change’ (for

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example, facilitative, informational, ideological, attitudinal or political routes);9 4. utilizing appropriate tactics to ensure the change plan’s success (this can involve anything from bringing in an outside management team to oversee the implementation of the change to selective ‘trial ballooning’ before implementing a particular phase of the planned change).10 The point is that without a deliberately designed strategy package, the reform process reverts back to being haphazard and random. Reflexive adaptation Planned and unplanned change processes are evident in most multilateral organizations. The organizational theorist Gordon Lippitt describes these two processes this way. In response to systemic pressures: ‘[S]olutions can be, and not infrequently are, found without appropriate processes, being achieved by vaguely intuitive or haphazardly venturesome actions, and with little understanding of what really has happened once the dust has settled.’ Or, ‘they can be accomplished by one of the formally structured methodologies based on directive or participative management’ in the so-called managed change process.11 The latter process is equivalent to the reform process described above. The former one is generally referred to as ‘adaptation’ in some international organization literature. According to Ernst Haas, the adaptation of international organizations is usually preceded by impulses from their environment. Why is this the case? Because, as Haas explains, international organizations are ‘hyperdependent on their environments; they can hardly be distinguished from their environments’.12 Adaptation is change that occurs without questioning the underlying principles upon which the organization is based. Adaptation can result in three different modes of organizational development (OD): (1) incremental growth, (2) turbulent non-growth, and (3) downsizing. Incremental growth is characterized by successive and gradual augmentation of an organization’s programme as actors add tasks without any change in the organization’s decision-making dynamics or mode of choosing. Such growth may develop as a response to dissatisfaction in an organization’s task environment or as the result of the pressures of new demands coming from its external environment. Changes that occur in this mode produce little cognitive learning. Instead, the organization adapts reflexively (or cybernetically) in ways that accommodate compromises reached between the dominant coalition of states and the counter-hegemonic coalition. Expansion is usually the end result as new programmes and structures are developed to suit newcomers without abandoning the programmatic elements favoured by those who form the dominant coalition. Turbulent non-growth is characterized by the evident clashing interests of actors brought on by the different perceptions of ‘the problem’ to be solved.

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This is generally accompanied by a tendency to question the organization’s norms, values, rules and legitimacy. As has been the case in the United Nations, the problem during turbulent non-growth periods is compounded by lack of consensual knowledge, loss of control by the dominant coalition, a phenomenon of shifting coalitions, an incompatibility of goals, the inability to monitor the performance of the organization’s sub-system and basic confusion in the organization’s task domain. Under such conditions, organizational ‘retrenchment’ and institutional rigidity set in, leading to redundancy, inefficiency and ineffectiveness. When this situation clearly becomes untenable, one can expect calls for reorganization and/or downsizing of the organization.13 In many different types of organization, management has tried to deal with dwindling resources by downsizing organizational structures so that they are smaller in size but ideally not necessarily less efficient, in terms of performing original or even additional functions.14 Maurice Bevenot calls this incremental contraction or downsizing ‘a process of pruning’.15 This may be part of a retrenchment strategy, but could also become a scheme in its own right geared towards eventual elimination of structures, programmes, personnel, operations and budget line items deemed unnecessary, unimportant or irrelevant. Incremental adaptation in international organizations, whether in the form of growth, turbulent non-growth or contraction, is favoured by those who have a conception of time in which problems are defined by intergovernmental concerns with immediate consequences. Most governments operate according to that conception of time. However, longer-term threats and problems, such as threats to the environment and economic and social problems, force us to think differently, in what some scholars have termed ‘intergenerational terms’ or ‘social time’.16 It is impossible to resolve such problems satisfactorily by utilizing an incremental mode of intervention (reform) or by adapting an institutional response simply through incremental growth, turbulent non-growth or contraction. It is at such a point that one must question the organization’s relevance to its operational context. Such questioning can produce a more radical change strategy evolving out of an ‘organizational learning’ framework – particularly if it is thought that the price of not learning could result in the dissolution of the international organization in question (that is, the liquedation of its assets and affairs) or to succession (that is, transference of its functions, rights and duties wholly or in part to another organization).17 Organizational learning A stark contrast to both reform and the reflexive adaptation process is the ‘learning’ mode of change. Recently, a growing number of IR scholars have taken up the challenge of trying to understand and explain organizational learning processes. Jack Levy acknowledges that the concept of learning is

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‘difficult to define, isolate, measure, and apply empirically’.18 Philip Tetlock’s research in this area supports Levy’s argument. Tetlock identifies at least three different views of learning found in the scholarly literature: (1) learning that results from adapting to environmental stimuli (a cybernetic form); (2) learning that involves cognitive complexity and perceptual transformation; and (3) learning that results in the embedding of critical feedback data into organizational memory and routines.19 Some authors equate organizational learning with adaptation since for them learning involves the successful response of an organization to exogenous or endogenous stimuli. To this group, failure to learn is equated simply with the organization’s inability to adapt to changing circumstances. Those who examine this issue from the perspective of the ‘belief system of decision-makers’ argue that learning occurs when there is a noticeable change in the content of the decision-makers’ beliefs and dogma or when the structure of the decision-makers’ cognitive system has become discernibly more complex. Such complexity involves: (1) recognizing different elements and processes from those previously observed; (2) the intellectual integration of these new elements and processes into another cognitive construction; and (3) an increase in reflection about the conduct and nature of these new elements and processes, the conceptualization of the problem to be solved, and the desired results to be obtained.20 Learning can also be conceptualized as occurring whenever policy-makers have figured out how to match ends and means in more efficient or effective ways.21 In international organizations this involves more than individual and incremental cognitive change in response to feedback. The learning, in this case, occurs only if the lessons accrued from the experience of the organization’s members become firmly fixed in subsequent organizational memory and routines. The analytical problem with Tetlock’s categories of organizational learning is that they are not easily distinguishable from what has been described above as ‘adaptation’ or ‘reform’ processes. Ernst Haas adds a refreshing perspective on this subject of organizational learning.22 What separates his perspective from those that are closely akin to adaptative and reformist strategies is its starting premise that learning occurs only when the ultimate purposes of the organization are redefined, as well as its ends questioned. This questioning of the underlying cognitive schemata of an established belief system is generally preceded by the accumulation and analysis of consensual knowledge that can be partially provided by epistemic communities. An epistemic community is ‘a network of professionals with recognized expertise and competence in a particular domain and an authoritative claim to policy-relevant knowledge within that domain or issue area’. Those professionals may come from a variety of disciplines and backgrounds, but in order to be considered an epistemic community they must have: (1) a shared set of normative and principled beliefs which underlie a particular value-based rationale for social action; (2) ‘shared causal beliefs’ derived from

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‘their analysis of practices leading or contributing to a set of problems’ and which, in turn, ‘serve as the basis for elucidating the multiple linkages between possible policy actions and desired outcomes’; and (3) intersubjectively defined ‘criteria for weighing and validating knowledge in the domain of their expertise’ based on the presumable normative conviction that the end result of their cognitive efforts will be the enhancement of human welfare.23 This organizational learning model is associated with the ‘managed interdependence’ model of organizational change which emphasizes the importance and constant need of re-examining organizations’ goals, ideals and purposes. It is triggered, as in the case of managed interdependence, by ‘knowledge-mediated decision-making dynamics’.24 When an organization learns, it undergoes a process by which consensual knowledge is used to specify causal relationships in new ways. According to this view, the United Nations will experience learning if its members question initial beliefs about the appropriateness of goals, means, ends or actions and adopt new ones. The organization would thus be forced to ‘learn’ by grappling with problems never before encountered. That being the case, the occurrence of organizational learning in the United Nations may be quite limited. However, it must be borne in mind that learning is generally very rare in any organization.25 In the case of multilateral organizations, it seems that learning occurs at their initial moment or at crucial junctures throughout their development. However, it is usually frustrated during the remaining life of these organizations by institutional routines, ideological wrangling and narrow interest-based decision-making. The UN system is a case in point. The United Nations can be considered a refinement of the ‘peace plans’ of great idealist thinkers like Dante, Pierre Dubois, Emeric Crucé, the Duc de Sully, William Penn, the Abbé de Saint-Pierre, JeanJacques Rousseau, Jeremy Bentham and Immanuel Kant.26 It also represents the most recent stage in the evolution of regulatory mechanisms that date back to the European Congress and conference system, the Concert of Europe system and the League of Nations.27 In this sense, at its initializing moment, the United Nations learned through cognitive incorporation of ideas and practices that were in existence before the organization was founded. Most of the modern attempts at international organization were concerned with the issue of military security (that is, the elimination of war) primarily in the European theatre. But as international society expanded and new states emerged, a learning process took hold as the UN system evolved. Values such as universality, welfare, justice and ecoholism were added to that of military security, linking global peace to the elimination of economic and social ills, injustice, human rights violations, undemocratic practices and ecological degradation. This expanded human security agenda put pressure on the UN system to change in various ways, despite constitutional and bureaucratic obstacles; at times cybernetically, at other times cognitively.

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What are the prerequisites for cognitive learning to occur? How do we know when cognitive learning is taking place in an organization? Haas offers a few clues. In order for cognitive learning to occur, there must be a genuine dissatisfaction with the particular aspects of the organization’s functioning or structure. The organization’s member states and Secretariat must be willing to abandon established ideas and routines, and to contradict conventional wisdom if necessary. This may require a change in the composition of the dominant coalition within the organization. It may also call for a mellowing of antagonistic world order ideologies that are present within the organization. It will certainly dictate a formulation of new problem sets or a reformulation and recomposition of the problematic which the organization hopes to address and resolve. Cognitive learning, according to Haas, is generally aided by epistemic communities that contribute to the building of consensual knowledge. Haas argues that four conditions must be met if such organizational learning is to take root: 1. there must be a dominant coalition of like-minded states within the organization whose professed goals are similar; 2. there must be a credible epistemic community providing a knowledge base which is acceptable to the dominant coalition; 3. sufficient consensual knowledge must be available to provide the rationale necessary for nesting problems and solutions; and 4. a reflective mode of thinking must prevail in the organization to allow for the possible reconceptualization of the problem to be solved. Essentially, the form of change that results from this learning process requires that nothing remains ‘cognitively fixed’, that member state representatives forsake uncompromising positions, and that the problem to be solved is viewed in a holistic fashion and solutions are seen in terms of the long-range view.28 The reason why cognitive learning may be so rare in multilateral organizations is due in part to the habit-driven and largely reactive behaviour of their institutional members. UN member government representatives, for instance, are known for responding to exigencies of the moment and to pressures coming from the organization’s task environment. Very seldom do they have time for reflective thinking or long-term strategic planning. Even when some learning does occur, there is little guarantee that it will bring about the needed policy or organizational change.29

The choice: tinkering or rethinking? Based on the above analysis one can categorize the possible modes of organizational change in the United Nations under two basic headings of ‘tinkering’ and ‘rethinking’. The tinkering mode has been the more

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traditional approach emphasizing minimalist and incrementalist change strategies. The focus, using this mode, is on effectiveness and efficiency values rather than on necessarily making the organization more relevant. Under the tinkering approach possible Charter changes are either not considered or completely ruled out, and emphasis is placed on managing change in a predetermined direction or responding in a haphazard manner to pressures for change. Tinkering can therefore be reformist and/or reflexively adaptive. The rethinking mode of change differs from reformist and reflexive adaptive modes in that it is concerned with questioning ends, reevaluating the ultimate purposes and goals of the organization, and engaging in the kind of cognitive learning that could alter fundamentally the organization’s principles. Martin Rochester describes the choices between organizational tinkering and rethinking as a choice ‘between mere nuts-and-bolts changes (which would not energize serious involvement in institution-building and would amount to rearranging the deckchairs on the Titanic) and a sweeping rewriting of the Charter (which seem too titanic an endeavour)’.30 In the context of the United Nations, rethinking would involve the kind of cognitive organizational learning and radical change associated with a critical rather than problem-solving approach to multilateral institutions.31 The key to understanding this mode of change is to be able to stand outside the traditional view of how multilateral institutions are currently being reformed or adapted and to conceptualize a complete metamorphosis of the organization. However, both purposive and reflexive change processes can be utilized in an organizational strategy in combination with a learning process that employs both tinkering and rethinking. This is the position taken in this book. Clearly, the United Nations has been involved more in tinkering than rethinking. Although there have been several suggestions for radically altering certain features and functions of this organization, most change efforts to date have been limited to incremental reforms. Very few have considered the need to rethink the United Nations’ underlying principles and structure. In addition, those changes that have attempted to give the organization greater relevance are generally brought about primarily through a reflexive adaptation process rather than by any purposive design. And those changes that have been sought through a purposive design more often than not succumb to the incrementalist and limited agenda of status quo forces within the organization. Rethinking and the value of relevance As Antonio Donini put it, those who prefer the incremental change process at the United Nations hold the position that UN structural changes are either unnecessary or impossible to bring about given ‘political realities’ and the lack of political will. The goal of most purposive attempts at

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change has been to introduce refinements to the existing machinery and techniques of coordination rather than to attempt any major overhaul of the organization. The main purpose of these reforms has been ‘to shape a tidier and more effective organization through incremental measures and selective tinkering’ – a phenomenon described by John Renninger as ‘muddling through’.32 The value of organizational relevance is usually overlooked when this mode of change is employed. It is important that the issue of relevance be placed much higher on the UN system’s change agenda, particularly in the turbulent, transitional period to a postmodern era.33 Failure to adjust the world body to the changes that are occurring in its broader environment could spell disaster for the organization. Given that the dominant modes of change operating within the United Nations have failed to bring about the modifications needed at this crucial juncture for the United Nations to cope with new and pressing demands from the international community,34 perhaps the time has come to consider a different kind of organizational change strategy; one that can facilitate the progressive evolution of multilateralism without becoming obsessed with trying to ensure that the UN structure (as envisaged in 1945) remains intact. In other words, the time has come for us to discard the traditional approach to multilateralism and embrace a more critical approach – one that allows us to stand outside the prevailing wisdom concerning the appropriate role of international organizations, like the United Nations, in world affairs. Institutional learning as a mode of change within the United Nations has become possible of late. After its overextension in the period immediately following the end of the Cold War, the United Nations has sought to learn from its diverse, complex and multifaceted peace operations. A Lessons Learned Unit was created in 1995 to draw out lessons from past peacekeeping efforts as a means of helping to plan future ones. This Unit cooperates with various NGOs, research institutes and foundations in conducting research and organizing seminars and workshops on peacekeeping operations. Our volume is not a direct result of this Unit’s mandate, but it is hoped that the following chapters to this book will goad UN practitioners into broadening the areas from which lessons can be learned about how the UN system is adapting to a changing environment.

Notes 1. For more on this, see W. Andy Knight, A Changing United Nations: Multilateral Evolution and the Quest for Global Governance (London: Macmillan, 2000). 2. See Anatol Rapoport, Foreword to Eric Fawcett and Hanna Newcombe, United Nations Reform: Looking Ahead after Fifty Years (Toronto: Science for Peace, Dundurn Press Limited, 1995), p. xiii.

Learning in the United Nations 37 3. For a detailed elaboration of the character of UN change processes, see W. Andy Knight, ‘Multilateral Evolution and the United Nations System: Institutional Learning, Adaptation and Reform’, unpublished PhD dissertation, York University, Toronto (1994). 4. Gordon Lippitt, Organization Renewal: Achieving Viability in a Changing World (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1969), pp. 2, 144. 5. Patrick Connor and Linda Lake, Managing Organizational Change (New York: Praeger, 1988), pp. 5–10. 6. See Robert Chin, ‘The Utility of System Models and Developmental Models for Practitioners’, in Warren Bennis, Kenneth Benne and Robert Chin (eds.), The Planning of Change (New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1961), pp. 201–14. 7. For examples, see N. Brunsson, ‘The Irrationality of Action and Action Rationality: Decisions, Ideologies and Organizational Actions’, Journal of Management Studies, vol. 19, no. 1 (1982); Janice Stein and Raymond Tanter, Rational Decision-Making: Israel’s Security Choices, 1967 (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1980); R. Rogowski, ‘Rationalist Theories of Politics: A Mid-Term Report’, World Politics, vol. 30 (1978), pp. 296–323; R. Golembiewski, Approaches to Planned Change (New York: Marcel Dekker, 1979); W. Bennis, K. Benne, R. Chin and K. Corey (eds.), The Planning of Change (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1976); and Margaret Levi, ‘Theories of Historical and Institutional Change’, PS, vol. xx, no. 3 (Summer 1987), pp. 684–5. 8. See R. Gilpin, War and Change in World Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), pp. x–xi. 9. On the formulation of strategies in the organizational context, see James Quinn, Henry Mintzberg and Robert James, The Strategy Process: Concepts, Contexts, and Cases (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1988). 10. On some of these strategic phases, see Connor and Lake, Managing Organizational Change, pp. 7–8. Also see Stephen Michael et al., Techniques of Organizational Change (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1981). 11. Lippitt, Organization Renewal: Achieving Viability in a Changing World, op. cit., p. 7. 12. Ernst Haas, When Knowledge is Power: Three Models of Change in International Organizations (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1990), p. 27. 13. See Tapio Kanninen, ‘Organizational Retrenchment and Reorganization: The Case of the United Nations’ Response to the Financial Crisis of the Mid-1980s’, PhD Dissertation, The City University of New York (1990); and Charles Levine, Irene Rubin and George Wolohojian, The Politics of Retrenchment: How Local Governments Manage Fiscal Stress (California: Sage Publications, 1981). Note that zero-growth budgeting is a managerial ploy usually adopted to restrain the proclivity towards organizational expansion. People within organizations adopting such a strategy will be asked to ‘do more with less’. 14. Ibid., p. 3. 15. Maurice Bevenot, ‘Primacy and Development’, Heythrop Journal, vol. ix (1968), p. 407. 16. See, for example, Marvin Soroos, ‘Ecology and the Time Dimensions in Human Relationships’, in David W. Orr and Marvin S. Soroos (eds.), The Global Predicament (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1979), and John Gerard Ruggie, ‘Social Time and International Policy’, in Margaret P. Karns (ed.), Persistent Patterns and Emergent Structures in a Waning Century (New York: Praeger, 1986). 17. On the difference between succession and dissolution in international organizations, see Giuseppe Schiavone, International Organizations: A Dictionary & Directory, 2nd edition (Chicago: St. James Press, 1986), p. 6.

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18. Jack Levy, ‘Learning and Foreign Policy: Sweeping a Conceptual Minefield’. Paper presented at the 1992 Annual Meeting of the American Political Science Association, Chicago (3–6 September 1992), p. 1. 19. Philip Tetlock, ‘Learning in U.S. and Soviet Foreign Policy: In Search of an Elusive Concept’, in George Breslauer and Philip Tetlock (eds.), Learning in U.S. and Soviet Foreign Policy (Boulder, Col.: Westview Press, 1991), pp. 22–44. 20. Adapted from Lloyd Etheredge, Can Governments Learn? American Foreign Policy and Central American Revolutions (New York: Pergamon Press, 1985), p. 66. 21. Tetlock, ‘Learning in U.S. and Soviet Foreign Policy’, p. 35. 22. See Ernst Haas, ‘Collective Learning: Some Theoretical Speculations’, in Breslauer and Tetlock (eds.), Learning in U.S. and Soviet Foreign Policy. 23. Peter Haas, ‘Introduction: Epistemic Communities and International Policy Coordination’, International Organization, vol. 46 (Winter 1992), especially p. 3. 24. Haas, When Knowledge is Power, pp. 3–4. 25. Ibid., p. 128. 26. See S. Hemleben, Plans for World Peace Through Six Centuries (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1943). 27. Inis Claude, Jr., Swords into Plowshares: the Problems and Progress of International Organization, 4th edition (New York: Random House, 1984), Chapter 2. 28. Haas, When Knowledge is Power, Chapter 7. 29. On this point see Levy, ‘Learning and Foreign Policy: Sweeping a Conceptual Minefield’, pp. 3–4. 30. Rochester, Waiting for the Millennium: The United Nations and the Future of World Order, p. 153. 31. Robert Keohane, ‘International Institutions: Two Approaches’, International Studies Quarterly, vol. 32, no. 4 (December 1988). 32. Antonio Donini, ‘Resilience and Reform: Some Thoughts on the Processes of Change in the United Nations’, International Relations, vol. ix, no. 4 (November 1988), pp. 309–10; and John Renninger, Survey and Analysis of Evaluations of the United Nations Intergovernmental Structure and Functions in the Economic and Social Fields (New York: UNITAR, July 1987), p. 38. 33. See James Rosenau and Mary Durfee, Thinking Theory Thoroughly: Coherent Approaches to an Incoherent World (Boulder, Col.: Westview Press, 1995). 34. Marie-Claude Smouts, ‘United Nations Reform: A Strategy of Avoidance’, in Michael G. Schechter (ed.), Innovation in Multilateralism (London: Macmillan, for the United Nations Press, 1997).

Part II Adaptations of UN Primary Concepts and Instruments

3 Collective Security: Changing Conceptions and Institutional Adaptation Edwin M. Smith

Introduction The end of the Cold War unsettled many assumed truths which have undergirded international relations for more than 40 years.1 The changing realities have challenged institutions and norms that have been founded on those assumptions. Organizations established after the Second World War to respond to certain threats have not responded adequately to new and different threats. Meanwhile, traditional norms, which have limited concern for problems within states, no longer effectively prohibit action by the international community. As changing arrangements have forced adjustments by international institutions, state actors have begun to recognize limitations in the conventional principles that have ordered the relationships among sovereign states. Many questions have been raised about traditional norms as contemporary political actors have challenged them. The international community has faced unimagined challenges to conventional notions of political and territorial integrity as movements of self-determination and secession have shattered the stability of several states. Concomitantly, evolving crises have forced multilateral organizations into actions that defy long-held beliefs about the inviolability of state sovereignty. The apparent changes to world order are forcing a re-examination of conceptual approaches that have become comfortable lenses for our view of world politics. While that rethinking may force us into drastically new and different visions, the results may prove to be rewarding. At the same time, we may be confronting the frustrations involved in attempting to analyse and generalize from our limited understandings of contingent and evolving events.2 The current apparent ‘global disorder’ may simply be a reflection of the inadequacies of our implicit assumptions as observers.3 Similarly, the 41

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seeming ineptitude of existing international institutions may also show the frailty of their foundational conceptions amidst changing circumstances. We may be involved in an effort to understand an opaque reality where anachronistic institutions rely too comfortably on traditional norms as they attempt to address vaguely comprehensible conflicts. If we have concerns about the limitations and possibilities of international institutions, we need to reconsider those assumptions which give foundation to international institutions and notions of state sovereignty.

The evolution of collective security We can begin our analysis of the limits of the foundational assumptions with a concept that has gained widespread acceptance – collective security. It assumes that maintenance of international peace requires universal participation in a system of multilateral responses to any potential threat against any individual state. The solution to international violence requires the commitment of the entire world community to a system which obliges all states to take common action to end threats to the peace.4 Although no mention is made of the term in the UN Charter, it essentially codifies the concept of universal collective security.5 As a universal organization, the United Nations adopted specific institutional rules and norms for the preservation of international peace and security. The rules, found in Article 2(4) and Chapter VII of the Charter, embody norms adapted from the League of Nations institution by the Second World War’s victors.6 The Charter norms reject the application of actual or potential military force for purposes of territorial acquisition or political coercion. Charter rules establish a system of enforcement obliging member states to support collective actions adjudged to be necessary by the Security Council. Many scholars and UN practitioners refer to this collection of norms and rules as the international collective security system. The Cold War brought frustration to many of the early expectations of those who developed and supported the collective security concept. One of the primary obstacles to the operationalization of the concept resulted from the use of the veto by both the United States and the Soviet Union, each seeking to prevent Security Council action advocated by the other. Repetition of this sort of manipulation cast a shadow upon the credibility of the Security Council.7 Dissension among its leading members, along ideological lines, paralysed attempts by the United Nations to implement collective security measures. Those measures could be disregarded by either of the superpowers or any state enjoying the strong support of either of them.8 After the Gulf War, US and Soviet leaders reached much more compatible views of the organization.9 In fact, the superpowers showed astonishing changes in a global landscape assumed to be immutable.10 In the wake of

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‘Desert Storm’, the Security Council held its first heads of state summit. In the joint statement that closed the summit the heads of state noted: The international community … faces new challenges in the search for peace. All member states expect the United Nations to play a central role at this crucial stage. The members of the Council stress the importance of strengthening and improving the United Nations to increase its effectiveness. They are determined to assume fully their responsibilities with the United Nations Organization in the framework of the Charter.11 This statement came as new collective actions demonstrated the broader visions suggested by the Council. Historically, the Security Council has been constrained from addressing many issues by contentions that such action would intervene in the domestic jurisdiction of member states.12 However, since the Gulf War, the Council has treated several internal conflicts as falling within its jurisdiction. The Council specifically designated Iraqi repression of the Kurds as the source of refugee flows that ‘threaten international peace and security’.13 Both the Cambodian and Yugoslav peacekeeping missions attempted to remedy internal ethnic or political conflicts. The Somali relief mission responded to humanitarian problems created by internal clan rivalry. In each instance, the activities undertaken by the United Nations moved beyond responding to traditional notions of threats to international peace and security.

Post-Cold War institutional stresses Although it may have reached new levels of respect among the nations and peoples of the world, the United Nations now confronts entirely unanticipated stresses and pressures. It may have passed through a troubled adolescence only to enter a period of maturity that could overwhelm its organizational capacity. Some of its prospective difficulties grow from the political compromises made at the UN founding conference. New concerns are being raised about the legitimacy of the Security Council, some reflecting questions that go deeper than scepticism about the Council’s make-up. Fresh questions arise partly in response to a ‘lack of fit’ between collective security institutions and contemporary problems. These questions imply an implicit challenge to the paradigm that undergirds collective security. For nearly the entire postwar era, collective defence focused on the preservation of the integrity of state actors. During the Cold War period, a comparatively stable structure characterized relationships between many states. Violent external threats to states were assumed to provide the most serious dangers to peace. Collective security assumed a state-centric posture. The relatively stable postwar order finally cracked with the dissolution of the eastern communist alliance and the dismantling of the

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Soviet Union. This old order had served to mask serious intra-state ethnic and nationalist conflicts. In many respects, the Gulf War maintained an illusion of vitality for state-centric notions of collective response. UN mechanisms and the norms and rules of the Charter provided the framework for action against Iraq. However, the plight of Iraqi Kurds, combined with conflict in the former Yugoslavia and Somalia, caused observers to question seriously the relevance of the state-centric conception of collective security. Within recent years, the most disturbing disorders have grown from conflicts within states. By 1993 there were at least 48 intrastate ethnic conflicts around the world.14 To invoke the rules and procedures of international organizations, diplomats have attempted to characterize internal conflicts as threats to these state-centric notions of peace and security. Internal violence has been portrayed as offering enough of a threat to international peace and security to merit collective response through traditional institutions. The description seems hollow and irrelevant in the face of violence that remains horrendous whether or not there is a credible threat to neighbouring states. Even when the instrumental goals of these re-characterizations are realized, collective security institutions based on the state-centric model could prove inadequate as vehicles for response to these conflicts. Collective security institutions and organizations lack norms and rules for involvement in intra-state violence, even though the loss of life may approach genocidal dimensions. States that see their way clear to resist cross-border invasion find themselves unable to justify to their citizens risky actions undertaken to end internal conflicts. These inadequacies should cause critical observers to question the utility of existing collective security institutions and organizations, and the norms and rules upon which their actions are based. The unprecedented challenges posed by the changing international order require both new norms and more effective means for implementing appropriate policies. Collective security structures devoted to the protection of traditional states become paralysed in the face of massive disorder within states. As well, collective involvement in complicated internal disorders may exacerbate the fears of weaker developing states of a rebirth of neocolonialist domination.15 Effective collective action will require the balancing of legitimate concern for threatened populations with respect for their independent political aspirations.

The limits of collective security While Chapter VII of the Charter is commonly characterized as establishing a collective security framework, those who negotiated the Charter had a more limited and pragmatic notion in mind.16 They sought to ensure that the enforcement process preserved freedom of action for the victors in the postwar world. In prospective crises where those victors decided they

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shared common interests, the collective enforcement procedures of Chapter VII would facilitate a unified response. On the other hand, whenever the interests of the principal powers differed, each retained the veto to prevent any collective action inconsistent with its interests. As Inis Claude noted, the UN collective enforcement system differed from traditional ‘balance of power’ arrangements.17 Balance of power described a system in which any disruptive action by any power would generate a hostile coalition among the other powers in order to maintain the status quo. The United Nations enabled each of the victorious powers to prevent enforcement actions that went against its interests; enforcement could only occur when the five permanent members agreed that some other state actors posed a ‘threat to international peace and security’. As between the major powers, balance of power politics remained intact. Through the United Nations, the victors created a system of limited collective security adapted to respond to threats of aggression while preserving the traditional coercive interplay involving permanent members.18 As a result, the UN collective security system allows two classes of response. If a minor power commits ‘aggression’ and there is unanimity among the permanent five, a collective response could follow. However, if either a permanent member or its client-state exercises coercive power, the veto structure prevents the organization from attempting a necessarily futile intervention against the interest of a permanent member. With continued problems in Iraq and new conflicts elsewhere, the optimism about the United Nation’s collective security function following the Gulf War has waned. Some of the Security Council’s willingness to initiate new approaches has met with grudging support from non-Western states. When the Council identified repression of the Kurds as appropriate for UN intervention, the resolution was adopted by only a slim margin.19 There was an equally narrow margin of support for sanctions against Libya.20 In addition, some states initially displayed either willingness to violate the sanctions21 or opposition to the extension of sanctions.22 Much of this dissatisfaction arose from doubts about the combination of military predominance and procedural control in the hands of a single country which would head a UN action. US power and UN consensus may have created a problem for institutional legitimacy. The unilateral predominance of the United States highlights new questions about the Security Council process.23 US-dominated consensus raises greater difficulties with the apparent expansion of the Council’s mandate by redefining threats to international peace and security. Continued resort to these non-traditional initiatives may lead UN member states to express serious reservations about the Council’s actions.24 With its new status as the sole superpower, the United States may be even more suspect in non-Western eyes. Without broader representation, the Council itself may fall subject to the same doubts.

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Recent discussions of the United Nations’ daunting tasks offer some basis for hope. The 1991 Security Council summit attempted to address the issues raised by the new range of responsibilities facing the organization. Boutros Boutros-Ghali’s Agenda for Peace report, in response to that summit, has sparked significant debate on important and relevant issues.25 Yet some issues remain in doubt, the most disturbing being the difficulties involved in financing new UN endeavours.26

Challenge of a new world disorder While it is easy to decry the inadequacy of international institutions in coping with current problems, prescriptions based on traditional images of the global system are not the solution. Realignments and modifications in the nature of power and influence in a changing international system require different conceptual foundations for proposed solutions to realize success. Conceptual alternatives Joseph Nye has made some provocative observations that bear directly on traditional assumptions and the new context.27 According to Nye, both realists and liberals have tried to fit new situations into old paradigms. Realists continue to tout military capability as the primary element of international power; they cite the Gulf War as their best evidence. Liberals see Wilsonian elements emphasizing civil society and international institutions, relying on the development of consensus through broadly shared values and international law.28 From these initial conceptions, proponents of these competing images have developed a number of descriptive paradigms to explain the confusing international scene.29 Some contend that there will be a recurrence of bipolar power balancing, while others consider a multipolar system most likely. Still others contend that a tripolar, economically-based structure will evolve. Charles Krauthammer even argues that we have entered an era of unipolar hegemony dominated by the United States.30 Nye suggests an image of multi-level interdependence as the alternative.31 He contends that the linkages between international actors vary depending on the level of analysis: No single hierarchy describes adequately a world politics with multiple structures. The distribution of power in world politics has become like a layered cake. The top military layer is largely unipolar, for there is no other military power comparable to the United States. The economic middle layer is tripolar and has been for two decades. The bottom layer of transnational interdependence shows a diffusion of power.32 At the top military level, states are the principal actors, and the United States’ military power makes it dominant. At the economic middle, international

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institutions and groupings of economically advanced state actors exercise predominant power. At the bottom, transnational interdependence blurs distinctions between domestic and foreign policies, making transnational and subnational forces important arbiters of international policy.33 Nye notes that some international institutions have begun to adjust to the range of values and actors implied by a system of multi-level interdependence. In particular, the United Nations has reacted to immediate problems with mechanisms that may prove well adapted to a different and evolving global system.34 These situational responses, forced by the necessity of responding to immediate crises in spite of anachronistic concepts and capabilities, may have nurtured a style of institutional adaptation and learning that has some promise for the future. (See Knight, chapter 2, this volume.)

From troubled adolescence to resilient maturity? Continuing turbulence in the international scene prevents any reasonable spectator from confident prognosticating; however, I would suggest a few hypotheses based on current observations that are worth a mention in the context of assessing the United Nations’ future in a changing world. Although the United Nations endured troubled origins, in the past decade it has begun to fulfil some of its initial promise. Early on the concept of limited collective security fell upon the obstacle of superpower competition, frustrating all involved with the United Nations for the first four decades of its existence. During that time, creative initiatives were required to accomplish any progress at all. For example, its peacekeeping innovation evolved without specific authority under the Charter.35 In addition, the United Nations accomplished decolonization tasks through norms and procedures not contemplated at the formation of the Trusteeship Council.36 Evolving institutional flexibility and innovation (reflexive adaptation) may provide a foundation for future responses to a world characterized by multilevel interdependence. With the aid of a large network of organizations involving states, international organizations, national and ethnic groupings, NGOs and a range of other participants, the United Nations may be well positioned to adapt further to the demands of an evolving global system. Anyone expressing optimism about the United Nations is generally subject to serious challenge. Critics have consistently noted the inefficiency and inertia that frustrate this organization. The large numbers of actors who participate in its processes may provide both the greatest hope and the most prodigious burden confronting the United Nations. Increasing the Security Council membership may further frustrate the speed of crisis responses. Further, financing UN activities may prove to involve enormous free-rider problems. These problems may inhibit the world body from adapting to a postmodern era. Despite these risks, I suggest that the United Nations holds some promise for adapting to new situations. The characteristics developed

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for responding to early and continuing challenges to the fundamental structures and purposes of the organization offer much promise.

Conclusion: the wisdom of insecurity During the 1960s, many read The Wisdom of Insecurity by Alan Watts.37 The thesis of the work was that uncertainty forces creative responses and growth. Conversely, life without insecurity inhibits opportunities for development. Beyond this, efforts to guarantee security will fail; since change is inescapable, insecurity is inevitable. Consequently, acceptance of insecurity is wisdom. Consideration of the evolution of the United Nations could lead to similar conclusions. The organization has struggled since its foundation against challenges to its fundamental norms and principles. Some of the formal members of the great power club of 1945 have suffered diminution in their power, while non-members have gained vast importance. Superpower competition, after frustrating the organization for more than 40 years, has disappeared because only one superpower remains. Even the definition of international power has shifted toward multi-level interdependence in ways not contemplated in 1945. The United Nations, after enduring these changes, has entered a new era of initiative and activity. While there can be no confidence in its ultimate success, the United Nations may well accomplish many of its objectives. If significant success takes place, it may result from the wisdom learned through insecurity and from the lessons learned about the changing concept of collective security.

Notes 1. See Joseph S. Nye, Jr., ‘What New World Order?’, Foreign Affairs (Spring 1992), pp. 83–96. 2. We may be learning the lessons of postmodernism: ‘the postmodern school of thought conceives of knowledge as always mediated by our social, cultural, linguistic and historical circumstances, and it will thus vary as those circumstances change. The truth, consequently, can never be transparent to us; it is and must always be a social construction, one made even more opaque by the mediation of language, a system of communication inherently incapable of capturing reality.’ Peter C. Schank, ‘Understanding Postmodern Thought and its Implications for Statutory Interpretation’, 65 Southern California Law Review (1992), p. 2507. 3. See Hayward R. Alker, Jr., Thomas J. Bierstecker and Takashi Inoguchi, ‘From Imperial Power Balancing to People’s Wars: Searching for Order in the Twentieth Century’, in James Der Derian and Michael J. Shapiro (eds.), International/ Intertextual Relations: Postmodern Readings of World Politics (1989), pp. 135–62. 4. Sheik Ali defines collective security as ‘[a] means of restraining aggression and ending breaches of peace by agreement of a body of nations to take common action’. Sheik Ali, The International Organizations and World Order Dictionary (1992), pp. 35–6. Formalized ideas of collective security began with the Treaty of

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5. 6. 7.

8.

9.

10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

15.

16.

17.

18.

Versailles. Edmund Jan Osmañczyk, The Encyclopedia of the United Nations and International Agreements (2nd edn, London and New York: Taylor and Francis, 1990), pp. 175–6. Larry and Marina Finkelstein note similar ideas offered by political philosophers centuries earlier. See Marina Finkelstein and Larry Finkelstein, ‘The Future and Collective Security: An Essay’, in Marina Finkelstein and Larry Finkelstein (eds.), Collective Security (1966), pp. 255–73. Ali, International Organisations, p. 35. Evan Luard, A History of the United Nations, Volume I: The Years of Western Domination, 1945–1955 (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1982), p. 3. Although post-Cold War optimism about the United Nations results largely from the ending of this sort of bilateral manipulation, the controversy over Palestinian exiles and Security Council Res. 799 shows that the bilateral manipulations have not completely disappeared. See Clyde Haberman, ‘Israel’s Highest Court Upholds The Deportation of Palestinians’, The New York Times (29 January 1993) p. A1. Haberman, ‘Israel’s Highest Court’, p. 35, and Adam Roberts and B. Kingsbury, ‘Introduction: The UN’s Role in a Divided World’, in A. Roberts and B. Kingsbury (eds.), United Nations, Divided World: The UN’s Participation In International Relations (Clarendon: Oxford, 1989), p. 2. See Thomas G. Weiss and Meryl A. Kessler, ‘Moscow’s U.N. Policy, Foreign Affairs’ (Summer 1990), p. 94; Text of Mikael Gorbachev to the 43rd Session of the United Nations General Assembly, TASS, 7 December 1988. See Text of President Bush’s Address to Joint Session of Congress, New York Times (12 September 1990), p. A10. Security Council Summit Statement, U.N. Document S/23500, 31 January 1992. These arguments were usually based on Article 2(7). Security Council Resolution 688, 5 April 1991. David Binder, ‘As Ethnic Wars Multiply, U.S. Strives for a Policy’, New York Times (Sunday, 7 February 1993), p. A1. For a good survey of recent conflicts, see Morton H. Halperin and David J. Scheffer, Self-Determination in the New World Order (Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 1992), pp. 123–61. Discussions of ‘failed states’ and ‘trusteeships’ cannot help but heighten these fears. See, Gerald Helman and Stephen Ratner, ‘Saving Failed States’, Foreign Policy (Winter 1992–93), pp. 3–20. See R. Hilderbrand, Dumbarton Oaks: The Origins of the United Nations and the Search for Postwar Security (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1990); Inis Claude, The Management of Power in the Changing United Nations, reprinted in R. Falk et al., The United Nations and A Just World Order (Boulder, Col: Westview Press, 1991), pp. 143–52; Finkelstein and Finkelstein, ‘The Future and Collective Security’, p. 4. One sceptical commentator has expressed doubts about the applicability of collective security to all but the rarest of circumstances. See Henry Kissinger, ‘What Kind of New World Order?’, The Washington Post (3 December 1991) p. A21. See Claude, The Management of Power, pp. 146–50. For a description of the postCold War context that proceeds from balance of power assumptions, see Kissinger, ‘What Kind of New World Order?’, 1991. Some of the problems involved in viewing ‘Desert Storm’ as a pattern for future collective enforcement flow from the post-Cold War merger of those two classes of responses. The United States, the pre-eminent power, initiated coercive measures

50

19. 20.

21. 22.

23.

24.

25.

26.

27. 28. 29.

Edwin M. Smith against Iraq which preserved vital US interests as it also responded to the multilateral consensus. Little remained of balance-of-power politics that could limit US action. Some claimed that the United States ‘hijacked’ the Security Council. See Lucia Mouat, ‘Prestige High, UN Looks Stronger’, The Christian Science Monitor (11 March 1991) p. 4; Josh Friedman, ‘UN United, Divided By U.S.’ New Role’, Newsday (29 July 1991), p. 21. Because the protection of the vital interests of the United States merged with collective international enforcement against Iraq, US claims to justification appeared tainted by self-interest, generating ambivalent responses. While ten nations voted in favour of Resolution 688, Cuba, Yemen and Zimbabwe opposed the resolution, and China and India abstained. The difficulty faced by the United States was demonstrated by the controversy surrounding Security Council Resolution 748 imposing sanctions on Libya for failing to extradite individuals accused of terrorist bombings of aircraft. Security Council Resolution 748 (1992). That resolution was adopted with a bare onevote margin with five members of the Council abstaining, including one permanent member. The frailty of the supporting consensus for that resolution shows that collective security norms undergirding the Charter may be too brittle to permit broad expansion to cover new threats. United Press International, ‘Sources Say Syria May Resume Flights to Libya’, Nexis (18 April 1992), current file. Commentators expect a number of European states to indicate serious reservations about any broader sanctions involving Libyan oil exports. Associated Press, ‘Sanctions on Libya Begin: Jets Turned Back, Envoys Sent Home’, Chicago Tribune (16 April 1992) p. 10. Edward C. Luck and Tobi Trister Gati, ‘Whose Collective Security?’, Washington Quarterly (Spring 1992), p. 43. Unless the United States recognizes the difficulty of claiming its actions to be legitimate, it risks reactivating a pure balanceof-power system with itself as the power to be resisted by a broad coalition. Since military power faces ever-declining utility in today’s world, the United States’ ability to accomplish its goals by acting in isolation may be diminishing. Robert Tucker and David Hendrickson, Imperial Temptations: The New World Order and America’s Purpose (New York: Council on Foreign Relations Press; C. 1992), pp. 14–17. Most commentators indicate that the willingness of UN membership to go along with the Somali relief operation grew because of the absence of a traditional government in Somalia. Some drew comparison to Sudan, a neighbouring country, where the traditional government was fighting a civil war with means that many consider genocidal, yet there was no similar motivation for military intervention to provide relief to the civilians in southern Sudan. See Report of the Secretary General, Agenda for Peace, op. cit. For criticisms, see Thomas G. Weiss, ‘New Challenges for UN Military Operations’, Washington Quarterly, 16, 1 (Winter 1993), p. 20. Boutros Boutros-Ghali, ‘Empowering the United Nations’, Foreign Affairs (Winter 1992–3), pp. 94–5. For a substantial discussion of UN financing problems, see The Ford Foundation, Financing An Effective United Nations: A Report of the Independent Advisory Group on U.N. Financing (New York: Ford Foundation, 1993). Nye, ‘What New World Order?’, 1992. Ibid., p. 84. Ibid., pp. 86–8.

Collective Security 51 30. See Charles Krauthammer, ‘The Unipolar Moment’, Foreign Affairs (America and the World 1990/91), pp. 23–33. 31. Nye, ‘What New World Order?’, pp. 88–9. 32. Ibid. 33. According to Nye, the diffusion of international power is a central characteristic of the current order. See Joseph S. Nye, Jr., Bound to Lead: The Changing Nature of American Power (1990), pp. 73–201. 34. Ibid., pp. 91–3. He notes collective responses in the area of human rights that have gone beyond traditional Westphalian norms of sovereignty, particularly when threats to international order are implicated. He also notes actions by regional organizations and specifically suggests enhancing UN capabilities for independent response, including the formation of a rapid deployment force. 35. See Brian Urquhart, A Life in War and Peace (New York: Harper & Row, 1987), pp. 132–5. 36. Robert C. Riggs and Jack C. Plano, The United Nations: International Organization and World Politics (California: Wordsworth Publishing, 1988), pp. 231–2. 37. Alan W. Watts, The Wisdom of Insecurity (New York: Vintage Books, 1951).

4 Possibilities for Preventive Diplomacy, Early Warning and Global Monitoring in the Post-Cold War Era; or, the Limits to Global Structural Change Michael G. Schechter Introduction One of the chief purposes of the United Nations has been the prevention of the use of force. As Article 1.1 of the Charter states, the UN’s main role is to maintain ‘international peace and security, and to that end: to take effective collective measures for the prevention and removal of threats to the peace’. However, today we find ourselves living in a very different systemic situation from that which existed when that goal was initially proposed, the mechanisms for its achievement were designed, and in which preventive diplomatic practices evolved. The thesis of this chapter is as straightforward as it is bold. In the postCold War era, the concept of UN preventive diplomacy is at best misleading and should be relegated to the dustbin of history. Yet, the systemic conditions associated with a transition to a postmodern era appear to be as conducive as ever to a diplomatic role for the United Nations. Further, it is suggested that the success of a diplomatic role is contingent upon the development of a comprehensive early warning system, including what might be called global monitoring, and the further evolution of systemic changes, some of which are still in their infancy.

Confusion surrounding the concept of preventive diplomacy Semantics partly explains the call for relegating the concept of preventive diplomacy to the dustbin and simply speaking of the United Nations’ diplomatic role. The definition of preventive diplomacy has always been somewhat vague. At various times it is called upon to reflect a need to forestall international friction and at others it is used to indicate a need to limit the escalation of conflict. In almost all usages, preventive diplomacy 52

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has been cast in the context of Cold War rivalries, making more apparent that the particular historical moment in which the notion of preventive diplomacy made sense has now passed.1 Moreover, former usages of the concept of preventive diplomacy have tended to cloud consideration of which position or UN body is responsible for conducting the diplomacy. Focus and emphasis tend to shift from the Secretary-General to senior UN staff to the General Assembly to regional organizations with little rhyme or reason. The call to eliminate the use of the concept, however, is not simply or even chiefly because of its vagaries or even because of the concern that Secretaries-General may have used it (very loosely) simply to evoke greater legitimacy and support for their actions. I believe it is not difficult to clarify the essence of the concept and to differentiate it from the unadorned concept of diplomacy. Rather, I have a different goal in mind in calling for a distinction between preventive diplomacy and just old-fashioned diplomacy. Instead, it is my purpose to highlight the utility of developing the concepts of early warning and global monitoring in the context of a redefined sense of preventive diplomacy that takes into account recent system changes.

Clarifying the concept of preventive diplomacy Analysts of preventive diplomacy appear to have agreed on at least three fundamental points. First, the term’s origins – ‘the concept is [as] irrevocably associated with the name of the late Dag Hammarskjöld, as collective security is tied to that of Woodrow Wilson.’ More precisely, the concept is usually traced to the introduction to Hammarskjöld’s Annual Report to the 15th UN General Assembly (31 August 1960). There, Hammarskjöld discussed the ‘main field of useful activity of the UN in its efforts to prevent conflicts or to solve conflicts’.2 Second, students of preventive diplomacy have agreed that the concept is not found in the UN Charter’s theoretical substructure, but emerged from the United Nations’ operating experiences. Hammarskjöld saw a special need for preventive diplomacy in the Suez and Gaza, Lebanon and Jordan, Laos and the Congo. There, the United Nations moved in – somewhat modestly – ‘so as to eliminate a practical, economic and social, or military vacuum’. Hammarskjöld saw this as ‘unusually clear’ in the Congo case. He justified such actions by the wish of the international community to avoid [an] important area being split by bloc conflicts. It is a policy rendered possible by the fact that both blocs have an interest in avoiding such an extension of the area of conflict because of the threatening consequences, were the localization of the conflict to fail.3

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Those looking at the Charter as a basis for preventive diplomacy point to Article 1’s call for ‘prevention’, Article 40’s discussion of provisional measures and Article 99. Boudreau has most explicitly addressed the last point, asserting that it is inconceivable that those who drafted the UN Charter would give the Secretary-General an important role in Article 99 in the ‘maintenance of international peace and security’ without the requisite responsibility to be keept fully informed about world events. Such a formulation leads Boudreau to conclude that preventive diplomacy on the Secretary-General’s part is not so much a power as an ‘obligation’. He does concede, however, that the Charter is ‘silent’ on how the Secretary-General is to gather relevant information for conflict prevention.4 Third, scholars studying preventive diplomacy agree that it was a product of the bipolar, Cold War struggle that hamstrung the United Nations in its efforts to deal with security dilemmas in areas deemed important to either of the global superpowers. Hammarskjöld’s strategy was ‘to elbow the cold war out of the situation, lower the tension, isolate the cold war element in it – then [get on to] solving the problem’.5 The principal purpose of preventive diplomacy, then, was to remove any excuse for unilateral superpower intervention which might exacerbate the conflict and provide a rationale for counter-intervention by the other superpower and its Cold War allies.6 Thus, the call for the elimination of the concept of preventive diplomacy from post-Cold War discourse seems fairly persuasive. The purpose of preventive diplomacy seems to have been obviated by a number of global structural changes. Not simply is there no longer even a loose bipolar world with clearly separable blocs and spheres of influence, but the modal forms of interactions between states, the nature of conflicts, the relative importance of transnational and non-state actors and the number and character of states, if not actually their aims, have changed. Accordingly, the focus of our attention needs to turn to opportunities for diplomacy aimed at preventing various international disputes from escalating. The degree to which such diplomacy is likely to succeed seems dependent upon the re-establishment of coordinated and comprehensive early warning and global monitoring systems, which, in turn, are partly related to the degree to which additional ‘systemic transformations’ or global structural changes are brought to fruition.

Early warning and global monitoring The need to revisit and revise the early warning concept is also necessitated by the related broadening of the concept of security7 and administrative changes that have occurred in the United Nations. Buzan’s comments on the nature of the security threats of the post-Cold War era are relevant in this context, and expand Nye’s conception of security.8

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The basic rationale for an early warning system remains what it has been since Stanley Hoffmann incisively identified the source of the ‘UN’s double failures’ in preventing the Suez and Hungarian crises of 1956.9 Then the UN structure failed the ‘effectiveness test’ in preventing military conflict. Boudreau suggests that such a failure ‘implies its own reform agenda’ for the organization, namely a ‘global warning and information management system’ that would enable the organization (and for Boudreau the Secretary-General in particular) to ‘anticipate, ascertain, and analyze’ any matter that may threaten international peace and security.10 Such a view closely accords with Pérez de Cúellar’s self-reflections, which set the stage for the establishment of an early warning mechanism within his office: It would be in the interests of the Organization as a whole if the Secretary-General’s capacity to serve as an objective third party were to be further developed. There is much, of course, to be said for quiet diplomacy, but sometimes more is required. I am thinking in particular of a wider and earlier use of fact-finding and observation. I am also thinking of the need to survey more regularly and systematically the worldwide state of international peace and security – a task in which the Security Council and the Secretary-General should be jointly involved.11 Where this analysis diverges from Boudreau’s and the former SecretaryGeneral’s is in the understanding of the nature of the security threats to which the United Nations should be capable of responding in the post-Cold War era, and thus the breadth of institutional capacity required of the United Nations, that is, well beyond that of the Secretary-General’s Office and the Security Council and beyond enhanced information gathering (or early warning), essential as that is. Such a contention seems constitutionally defensible, as are the reform proposals of the past three Secretaries-General. While Ramcharan’s textual analysis suggests that the primary responsibility for early warning under the Charter rests with the Security Council, he sees much more than that. Article 34 states that the ‘Security Council may investigate any dispute, or any situation which might lead to international friction or give rise to a dispute, in order to determine whether the continuance of the dispute or situation is likely to endanger the maintenance of international peace and security’, and the so-called provisional measures of Article 40 allow the Council to prevent an aggravation of a conflict. Legal justification for the Secretary-General is found in Article 99. And Article 11 provides the General Assembly Charter-based authority. The role of the International Court of Justice’s (ICJ) in this matter is found in Article 41 of the Court’s statutes.12 The call here for a broadened institutional capacity to respond to an enhanced understanding of the concept of security is taken fully cognisant of the unprecedented demands being placed upon the Secretary-General’s good offices, of the direction of peacekeeping operations and of the current exercise in preventive diplomacy.13

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The argument is that such demands could be much better accommodated if – in addition to supplementary resources – a broad-based and better coordinated early warning and global monitoring system was in place so that the United Nations – including the Secretary-General, but also the specialized and related agencies and even regional institutions14 and international non-governmental organizations – were capable of being proactive rather than reactive in the face of security crises. The explanation of Hammarskjöld’s chef de cabinet, Brian Urquhart, for Hammarskjöld’s focus on preventive diplomacy seems apt here: it came from his increased conviction that the future of the United Nations lay with preventive action rather than corrective action, ‘which was far less effective and in the long run far more expensive’.15 Precedents for a reorienting in UN diplomatic activity clearly exist. Even in his analysis limited to the Secretary-General, Ramcharan was able to point to Secretaries-General using their ‘good offices’ to provide advance warnings of impending crises, establish inquiries on their own authority, pursue initiatives jointly with regional organizations, practise ‘private diplomacy’ in capitals at crucial moments, act in the face of severe economic crises facing countries or regions, respond to ‘man-made’ and natural disasters, sound the alarm about international drug-trafficking, offer ‘confidence-building’ measures and designate special representatives.16 The Organization of African Unity’s Secretary-General has spoken of the United Nations’ crisis-prevention work as including the work it had done with the OAU in the area of economic development.17 Significantly Boutros-Ghali called for a study of the ‘economic and social trends as well as political developments that may lead to dangerous tensions’.18 In a Foreign Affairs article, Boutros-Ghali was even more expansive. He wrote of the need for an early-warning function ‘encompassing threats to security and wellbeing: from the energy crisis to the burden of debt, from the risk of famine to the spread of disease’.19 In more specific organizational terms, a General Assembly report spoke of the need for the Secretary-General to be able to work with ‘all relevant institutions within the UN and not simply principal organs’. The UN Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees and the Near East was used to exemplify this point.20 The same report speaks of the value of allowing the Secretary-General to request the assistance of third parties, as in the ‘good offices’ role of the United States in April 1965 in the Dominican Republic.21 The necessity for reorienting the entire UN system – getting it ahead of the curve, so to speak – can be further underscored by extending Ramcharan’s suggestive allusion to the Secretary-General’s role in investigating allegations of the use of chemical weapons during the Iran–Iraq War. Ramcharan uses that example to underscore the potential powers of a Secretary-General, relying on information passed on to him (early warning) and creatively using the world’s media to limit the commission of criminal acts by a government

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against its own people (global monitoring or ‘global watch’ to use the language of the UN Association).22 Ramcharan is right also to use this example to underscore the powers that the Secretary-General has without any Charter revision,23 the importance of a Secretary-General having access to (even traditionally confidential) information and to display vividly the degree to which state sovereignty has eroded at least in the area of human rights.24 At the same time, this example underscores the limits to UN powers when it lacks independent access to information and, somewhat related, the limits to what it can do when it can intervene only relatively late in the process. In this instance, of course, it opened itself up to accusations of being a tool of the West – an accusation which is bound to continue as long the world has ideological divisions and the United Nations is perceived as having being part of the design of the ideational hegemons of the postwar era. Diego Cordovez – whose experience in the Afghan negotiations makes him particularly sensitive to such accusations – provides sage advice to future UN diplomatic and global monitoring activities in noting that the United Nations must be ready and willing to withdraw its services, for example, when the parties to a conflict are using it as a convenient cover.25 Others have suggested that mistrust now is so pervasive in the Third World that any reform proposals emanating from the ‘North’ are likely to fail, no matter how intrinsically meritorious they may be.26 Significantly, the United Nations entered the process of dealing with Iraqi genocide only after countless thousands of Kurds had been slaughtered by their own government, clearly emphasizing the need for early warning and global monitoring mechanisms. The Gulf War underscored the importance of ‘preventive diplomacy’ and ‘[p]reventive diplomacy presupposes early warning capacity, which, in turn, implies a reliable and independently acquired database’.27 The difficulty of dealing with problems such as these – without some fundamental structural and ideational changes – becomes clearer when one considers the seemingly visionary proposals recently adopted by the United Nations. In a report to the Security Council, Boutros-Ghali recounted the UN system’s ‘recent’ development of a ‘valuable network’ of early warning systems concerning environmental threats, risks of nuclear accidents, natural disasters, the spread of disease, the threat of famines and mass movements of populations. However, he noted that there remained a need to ‘synthesize’ the information ‘to assess whether a threat to peace exists and to analyze what action might be taken by the United Nations to alleviate it’. He also suggested that a ‘restructured’ Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC) might provide reports – in accordance with Article 65 of the Charter – ‘on those economic and social developments that may, unless mitigated, threaten international peace and security’. The role for such a robust ECOSOC was portrayed as supplementary to the work of the Security Council, the Secretary-General, ‘regional arrangements and

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organizations’ – which are urged to seek observer status in order to be linked with UN security mechanisms – and other UN organs.28 While it is not within the purview of this chapter to evaluate the specifics of Boutros-Ghali’s recommendation, it does seem useful to underscore some of the essential points which he did not explain. For example, he finessed the issue of ‘early warning to whom’, that is, who will get the information which is gathered on behalf of ECOSOC and the Security Council? Will it be shared with other states that seemingly have a legitimate interest in it, or with other interested ‘third parties’ such as the International Committee of the Red Cross or the Commission on Human Rights? What about with contending factions within the states under scrutiny? Or is the United Nations so embedded in the state-centric system that it cannot provide (or perhaps even officially gather) information from subnational and non-state actors?29 A UN General Assembly report of December 1991 on humanitarian assistance was not too promising in this regard: Early-warning information should be made available in an unrestricted and timely manner to all interested Governments and concerned authorities, in particular of affected or disaster-prone countries. The capacity of disaster-prone countries to receive, use and disseminate this information should be strengthened. In this connection, the international community is urged to assist those countries upon request with the establishment and enhancement of national early-warning systems.30 Nor did Boutros-Ghali effectively address the politically contentious issue of independent access to information. Instead, he spoke of the expectation that member states would provide ‘detailed information’.31 The problems of such a risk-averse approach are obvious. As Singer and Stoll put it long ago: there is a great ‘propensity [for] national governments to withhold and distort information in a crisis.’32 It is, perhaps, for this reason that a number of scholars have called for a greater involvement of non-governmental actors in early warning and global monitoring.33 In a similar manner, Boutros-Ghali did not address the issue of whether there should be an in-house military council to provide advice,34 nor did he offer much about data analysis. The failures of the United Nations in the latter area – aside from the population and environment sectors – have been noted by Bertrand.35 Not surprisingly, Singer and Stoll suggested that the solution to the data dilemma be found in a ‘coherent, data-based theory’.36 They also noted that most ‘intelligence failures’ result from defective processing and misinterpretation and not from lack of information.37 The relevance of this to a network of early warning and global monitoring systems cannot be stressed enough. Boutros-Ghali’s call for coordination under the auspices of ECOSOC is only one possible important administrative reform. Others include more

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effective use of interdisciplinary research, both in-house and outside, access to space-based or other technologically sophisticated surveillance mechanisms38 and changing member states’ culture in terms of the mandates they give to the United Nations and the quality of the personnel they appoint to it.39 The successful implementation of reforms such as these, however, is as dependent upon whose names are associated with the proposals and the systemic condition at the time they are attempted as their intrinsic merit.

The systemic context conducive to effective early warning, global monitoring and the successful practice of UN diplomacy Discussions about changes in the international system go well beyond the fixation with the end of bipolarity. They include what the French regulation school refers to as post-Fordism or flexible accumulation; the loss of faith in the chief twentieth-century ideological alternative to classical liberalism,40 and what Mark Zacher refers to as the decaying of the pillars of state sovereignty,41 in part with the connivance of the United Nations and its specialized agencies.42 Obviously, the sources for the decay in state sovereignty include the seemingly inevitable loss of state autonomy coming as a consequence of the internationalization of production, trade and finance, the threat from the biosphere, the rise of local and transnational social consciousness, and technology, not least of all in the communications field.43 The degree to which these global structural transformations continue in the directions that their chief soothsayers suggest will be as much a prerequisite for effective multilateral diplomacy as they are for any meaningful early warning and global monitoring mechanisms. The relationship between democratization, preventive diplomacy, early warning and global monitoring is elaborated by Anderson when he suggests that politicaleconomic liberalization facilitates the United Nations’ data collection on human rights abuses.44 A similar point could be made about other sources of conflict or threats to state security, even (or perhaps especially) when one takes a wider perspective on the notion of security. Stated somewhat differently, UN diplomacy will be limited by the state system in which the United Nations is embedded, the degree to which the pillars of state sovereignty remain in place, and to which ideological heterogeneity persists or expands. A clear example of how long that path is can be seen in an otherwise quite forward-thinking General Assembly Document, the Report of the Special Committee on the Charter of the United Nations and on the Strengthening of the Organization (31 March 1988). The assertion is made most boldly: ‘Recognizing the fundamental responsibility of States for the prevention and removal of disputes and situations …’.45 Future projections relating to global structural changes are hazardous: recent revelations relating to Iraqi violations of the nuclear non-proliferation regime in the absence of intrusive verification and global reaction to

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the US and UN efforts in Somalia seem to portend a further deterioration of the pillars of state sovereignty, whereas recent events in Cambodia, Algeria and Serbia point to the persistence of pervasive ideological heterogeneity. Institutional reform in the absence of significant systemic transformation can improve the United Nations’ diplomatic record, especially if such reforms are comprehensive in format, accord with a broadened understanding of the nature of security threats in the post-Cold War era and are proposed by those respected by all the United Nations’ member states. But such reforms are unlikely fundamentally to alter the United Nations’ diplomatic record. That requires much more fundamental structural and ideational transformations than appear on the immediate horizon.

Conclusions As suggested at the outset, an argument for relegating the term preventive diplomacy to the dustbin of Cold War history proves relatively easy, especially after the contextual origins of the phrase are traced. Almost as easy was an enumeration of the conditions necessary for a successful diplomatic role for the United Nations, one which is as broad as the security concerns in this transitional era and one which requires effective and expansive early warning and global monitoring systems. Likewise, it is easy to identify and articulate meritorious reform proposals. What proves impossible – yet most essential – however, is bringing to some sort of closure the question of the magnitude of the systemic transformation of the past decade.46 For, as I have argued in this chapter, the degree to which administrative reform of the United Nations will prove fruitful is largely embedded in the answer to that inquiry. Even a radical transformation of the Security Council – including the elimination of the veto47 – may be of limited utility in the United Nations’ quest to exploit the opportunities afforded by a pervasive, well-funded and coordinated early warning and global monitoring system, that is, to prevent conflicts before they arise and to be accepted as the legitimate and effective monitor and mediator when they cannot be prevented. Those roles seem to require further erosion of state sovereignty and increased global cultural homogenization than seems on the horizon. But such a conclusion – strongly felt as it might be – is not intended to sound as dire. Limited as the possibilities of the UN might be to play a pervasive and effective diplomatic role in the post-Cold War era, it is a major advance over the preventive diplomatic role to which it aspired during the Cold War.

Notes 1. See Inis L. Claude, Jr., Swords into Plowshares: The Problems and Progress of International Organization, 4th edition (New York: Random House, 1984), p. 312; UN General Assembly and UN Security Council. An Agenda for Peace: Preventive Diplomacy: Peacemaking and Peace-keeping. Report of the Secretary-General Pursuant to

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2.

3.

4.

5. 6. 7.

8.

9.

the Statement Adopted by the Summit Meeting of the Security Council on 31 January 1992, A/47/277 and S/2411 (17 June 1992), p. 5. Note the definition in Victor Issraelyan, ‘Preventive Diplomacy and Maintenance of Peace’, in The Future of the United Nations in an Interdependent World, edited by John P. Renninger (Boston: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers, 1989), p. 74; also Joseph Lorenz, ‘Third World Conflict Resolution – A New Role for the United Nations?’, United States Institute of Peace in Brief, No. 28 (April 1991), p. 2. Quoted in Andrew W. Cordier and Wilder Foote (eds.), Public Papers of the Secretaries-General of the United Nations, Volume 5, 1960–1961, Dag Hammarskjöld (New York: Columbia University Press, 1975), p. 131. Something akin to Hammarskjöld’s concept long pre-dated the United Nations. For example, the League of Nations’ Commission of Inquiry was often used by the League Council (under Article 1 of the Covenant) to allay tensions and to procure impartial and trustworthy information as a basis for conflict resolution. B.G. Ramcharan (ed.), International Law and Fact Finding in the Field of Human Rights (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1983), p. 70. Elabray argues that the origins of the concept – if not the phrase itself – really rest at the very outset of the United Nations’ history and credit belongs to the first UN Secretary-General often credited, at least in retrospect, for establishing essential precedents for his successors, including Hammarskjöld. Nabil Elabray, ‘The Office of the Secretary-General and the Maintenance of International Peace and Security’, in The United Nations and the Maintenance of International Peace and Security, edited by John Renniger (Boston: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers, 1987), p. 190. Cordier and Foote, Public Papers, pp. 131 and 132. Claude, Swords into Plowshares, p. 312. Mark W. Zacher, Dag Hammarskjöld’s United Nations (New York: Columbia University Press, 1970), pp. 67–8. Urquhart suggests that when Hammarskjöld sent David Blickenstaff to Lebanon in June 1958, he told him that the Lebanese operation was ‘a classical case of preventive diplomacy’, the major goal of which was to keep the Cold War out of the Middle East. Brian Urquhart, Hammarskjöld (New York: Harper & Row Publishers, 1972), p. 265. Thomas E. Boudreau, The Secretary-General and Satellite Diplomacy: An Analysis of the Present and Potential Role of the United Nations Secretary-General in the Maintenance of International Peace and Security (New York: Council on Religion and International Affairs, 1984), p. 4. As quoted in Zacher, Dag Hammarskjöld’s United Nations, p. 67. Ibid., pp. 67–8. Hammarskjöld sagaciously allowed for the extension of the concept of preventive diplomacy (and thus implicitly for the notion of early warning) beyond military security: ‘The responsibilities and possibilities of the Organization in the exercise of preventive diplomacy apply also to the economic sphere. Far less dramatic in their impact as the economic activities must be, they are of decisive long-term significance for the welfare of the international community.’ Cordier and Foote, Public Papers, pp. 134–5. Barry Buzan, People, States and Fear: An Agenda for International Security Studies in the Post-Cold War Era, 2nd edition (Boulder, Col: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1991), pp. 19–20. See also Michael T. Klare and Daniel C. Thomas, World Security; Trends & Challenges at Century’s End (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1991), p. 3. Stanley Hoffman, ‘Sisyphus and the Avalanche: The United Nations, Egypt, and Hungary’, in Joel Larus (ed.), From Collective Security to Preventive Diplomacy: Readings in International Organization and the Maintenance of Peace (New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 1965), p. 378. See also Brian Urquhart, ‘The United

62

10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20.

21. 22.

23.

24.

25. 26.

Michael G. Schechter States: From Peace-keeping to a Collective System’, in New Directions in International Security, Part 1 of Adelphi Paper No. 265 (London: The International Institute for Strategic Studies, 1992), p. 19. Singer and Stoll put it this way: ‘timely warning will provide the opportunity for the Secretariat, regional organizations, and national governments to ameliorate or head off the conflict before it goes to, or over, the brink of war.’ J. David Singer and Richard J. Stoll, ‘Basic Research: The Policy Relevant Spin-Off’, in Quantitative Indicators in World Politics: Timely Assurance and Early Warning, edited by J. David Singer and Richard J. Stoll (New York: Praeger, 1984), p. 1. Boudreau, Secretary-General, p. 5. From his 1985 Annual Report to the General Assembly as quoted in: Ramcharan, International Law, p. 15. Ramcharan, International Law, pp. 8 and 9. Ibid., p. 10. Gardner notes that the only regional organization with military forces readily at its disposal is NATO. Having said that, he notes it may not be unthinkable to see a role for such forces for some ‘preventive’ diplomatic tasks. Richard N. Gardner, ‘Practical Internationalism: The United States and Collective Security’, SAIS Review: A Journal of International Affairs, 12 (Summer–Fall, 1992), pp. 45–6. Urquhart, Hammarskjöld, p. 256. Ramcharan, International Law, pp. 16–17 and 35. Salim, ‘Preventive Diplomacy’, p. 175. He was presumably alluding to the Economic Commission for Africa. United Nations, ‘An Agenda for Peace’, p. 7. Boutros Boutros-Ghali, ‘Empowering the United Nations’, Foreign Affairs, 71 (Winter 1992/93), p. 100. United Nations, General Assembly, Report of the Special Committee on the Charter of the United Nations and on the Strengthening of the Organizations, A/43/33 (31 March 1988), pp. 167 and 167n. United Nations, Report of the Special Committee on the Charter of the United Nations and the Strengthening of the Organizations, pp. 168–9. As part of that effort, the UNA calls for an Office of Global Scanning as well as an Office of Global Watch Research. UN Management and Decision-Making Project. A Successor Vision: The United Nations of Tomorrow, Final Panel Report (New York: UN Association of the USA 1987), pp. 98 and 106. Cordovez argues that constitutionalists should not get the ‘wrong impression’ by the ‘modesty’ of Article 33, the chief UN Charter provision relating to ‘good offices’. Diego Cordovez, ‘Strengthening United Nations Diplomacy for Peace: The Role of the Secretary-General’, in The United Nations and the Maintenance of International Peace and Security, edited by John Renniger (Boston: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers, 1987), p. 164. Ramcharan, International Law, pp. 16–17. See also Jack Donnelly, ‘Progress in Human Rights’, in Progress in Postwar International Relations, edited by Emanuel Adler and Beverly Crawford (New York: Columbia University Press, 1991), pp. 318 and 325, and Gary Klintworth, ‘ “The Right to Intervene” in the Domestic Affairs of States’, 46 Australian Journal of International Affairs (November 1992), pp. 248–66. Cordovez, ‘Strengthening United Nations Diplomacy’, p. 169. Urquhart, Hammarskjöld, p. 257. E. Childers, ‘UN Mechanisms and Capacities for Intervention’, in E. Ferris, The Challenge to Intervene: A New Role for the United Nations (Uppsala: Life and Peace

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27.

28. 29.

30.

31. 32. 33.

34.

35.

36. 37. 38. 39.

40.

Institute, 1992), p. 49. Chandra Muzzafar, ‘Some Observations on UN Intervention’, in The Challenge to Intervene: A New Role for the United Nations?, edited by Elizabeth G. Ferris (Uppsala: Life & Peace Institute, 1992), p. 125. United Nations General Assembly, Report of the Secretary-General on the Work of the Organization, A/46/1 (13 September 1991), p. 3. See also United Nations General Assembly, Report of the Secretary-General on the Work of the Organization, A/44/1 (12 September 1989), p. 5. ‘Agenda for Peace’, p. 8. The notion of ‘embeddedness’ of world orders in sociopolitical structures at the national or international level is the theme of Polyani’s work and most often identified with Ruggie’s discussion of ‘embedded liberalism’. Karl Polanyi, The Great Transformation (New York: Rinehart & Company, Inc., 1944). John G. Ruggie, ‘International Regimes, Transactions and Change: Embedded Liberalism in the Post-War Economic Order’, International Organization, 36 (Spring 1982), pp. 379–415. United Nations General Assembly, ‘Strengthening of the Coordination of Humanitarian Emergency Assistance of the United Nations’, A/46/182 (19 December 1991), Annex. Gardner, ‘Practical Internationalism’, p. 39. ‘Agenda for Peace’, p. 7. Singer and Stoll, ‘Basic Research’, p. 1. See also B. Urquhart and E. Childers, ‘Toward a More Effective United Nations’, Development Dialogue, 1–2 (1991), p. 70. See, for example, Elizabeth Ferris, ‘An Overview of the Issues’, in The Challenge to Intervene: A New Role for the United Nations?, edited by Elizabeth G. Ferris (Uppsala: Life & Peace Institute, 1992), p. 10 and Urquhart and Childers, ‘Toward a More Effective United Nations’, p. 83. For arguments relating to this point, see Leon Gordenker and Thomas G. Weiss, ‘Introduction: The Use of Soldiers and Peacekeepers in Coping with Disasters’, in Soldiers, Peacekeepers and Disasters, edited by Leon Gordenker and Thomas G. Weiss (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1991), p. 9. Role of the United Nations, p. 13. Cf. Tapio Kanninen, The Future of Early Warning and Preventive Action in the UN, Occasional Papers Series, No. V (New York: The Ralph Bunche Institute on the United Nations, The City University of New York, May 1991), pp. 2–3. Singer and Stoll, ‘Basic Research’, p. 2. Ibid., p. 6. W. Andy Knight, United Nations and the Verification of Arms Embargoes (New York: The Edwin Mellen Press, 1998). These and other organizational proposals are elaborated in Bertrand, Role of the United Nations, and United Nations Management & Decision-Making Project, Successor Vision and United Nations General Assembly, Report of the SecretaryGeneral, A/46/1, pp. 3–4 and 8. It might be noted that the ‘major powers’ have ‘repeatedly’ refused to consider enabling the UN to acquire its own satellite communication system. Childers, ‘UN Mechanisms’, pp. 54 and 54n. Such an assertion is not intended as an endorsement of Francis Fukuyama’s widely heralded proclamation of the impending end of history, for surely the socialist alternatives of Western Europe and China continue to exist, to say nothing of evolving and proliferating fundamentalist secular and nationalist challenges. Rather, it simply alludes to the collapse of the state socialist (or Leninist) alternative most often identified with the Soviet Union and notes that that trend has often been taken as a critical step in the evolution of the sort of ideational harmony necessary for multilateral decision-making under the UN

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41.

42.

43.

44.

45. 46.

47.

Michael G. Schechter auspices to reign. My dissent here is simply meant to suggest that Fukuyama may be a little hasty in declaring ‘victory’. Francis Fukuyama, ‘The End of History’, The National Interest, 16 (Summer 1989). For a similar conclusion, based on different reasoning, see Immanuel Wallerstein, Geopolitics and Geoculture: Essays on the Changing World System (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), especially pp. 1–15. Mark W. Zacher, ‘The Decaying Pillars of the Westphalian Temple: Implications for International Order and Governance’, in Governance without Government: Order and Change in World Politics, edited by James N. Rosenau and Ernst-Otto Czempiel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992). Michael G. Schechter, ‘Battered on All Sides: The Effects of the Erosion of Article 2(7) on the United Nations, U.S., and Members of the “Third World”’. Paper prepared for presentation at the Annual Meeting of the International Studies Association/Midwest Region, Urbana-Champaign, Illinois (26 October 1991). See, e.g., Joseph A. Camilleri and Jim Falk, The End of Sovereignty? The Politics of a Shrinking and Fragmenting World (Aldershot: Edward Elgar, 1992), pp. 116, 221, 242–6. James H. Anderson, ‘New World Order and State Sovereignty: Implications for UN-Sponsored Intervention’, The Fletcher Forum of World Affairs, 16 (Summer 1992), p. 136. A/43/33, p. 4. Cox is among the most thought-provoking on the topic of the magnitude of systemic transformations. Robert W. Cox, ‘Production, the State, and Change in World Order’, in Global Changes and Theoretical Challenges: Approaches to World Politics for the 1990s, edited by Ernst-Otto Czempiel and James N. Rosenau (Lexington, Mass.: D.C. Heath and Company, 1989), especially pp. 45–9, and Robert W. Cox, ‘Production and Security’, in Emerging Trends in International Governance and Global Security, edited by David Dewitt and David Haglund (forthcoming). See also John Stopford and Susan Strange with John S. Henley, Rival States, Rival Firms: Competition for World Market Shares (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), chapter 2. Such a transformation is not likely to be in the cards, necessary as it might be to prevent the UN from being ‘obsolete’ even in the post-Cold War era. Shiina is only one of many who has developed an argument along these lines. Motoo Shiina, ‘American Foreign Policy: A Japanese View’, SAIS Review: A Journal of International Affairs (Summer–Fall, 1992), pp. 76–7.

5 The United Nations and Preventive Deployment in the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia Abiodun Williams

Introduction Conflict prevention is a fundamental, if often elusive task of the United Nations. As shown by Edwin Smith in chapter 3 of this volume, the collective security system set out in the UN Charter has not functioned for most of the organization’s history. Peacekeeping emerged as a vital tool for maintaining international peace and security, reflecting the failure of international efforts to prevent conflict. On 11 December 1992, Security Council Resolution 795 authorized the first ever preventive deployment mission of UN peacekeepers. This mission went to the former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia, which was not yet a UN member state.1 This unprecedented decision marked a new beginning for the United Nations. The world organization had discovered a new formula with great potential for strengthening its role in reducing the human toll and cost of international crises around the world. The United Nations Preventive Deployment Force (UNPREDEP) was deployed in Macedonia for six years and is generally regarded as one of the more successful UN operations.2 While this positive assessment is not misplaced, it necessitates a caveat. Causation is a controversial and problematic issue in the social sciences. It is impossible to prove the deterrent effect of UNPREDEP in preventing threats to Macedonia’s security, an external attack or the spillover of conflict. We do not know what would have happened within and around Macedonia without UNPREDEP, any more than we know what would have happened in the Cold War without nuclear deterrence. The setting Macedonia was an ideal ‘test case’ for preventive deployment. A small, landlocked country, about the size of the US state of Vermont, with a population of some two million, Macedonia is of strategic importance to 65

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the security of the southern Balkans and the eastern Mediterranean. In the words of Misha Glenny: ‘The Balkan mountains can only be traversed through Macedonia – either north to south, from Orthodox Belgrade to Orthodox Thessaloniki, or from west to east, from Muslim Durrës in Albania to Muslim Istanbul; all main trading routes in the southern Balkans pass through Macedonia.’3 The region has been the cockpit of conflict throughout the centuries. The contemporary state of Macedonia is bordered by four countries: Albania, Bulgaria, the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (Serbia and Montenegro) and Greece. As the former Yugoslavia disintegrated in 1991, the Macedonian President, Kiro Gligorov, and the Bosnian President, Alija Izetbegovic, tried unsuccessfully to find a solution to the crisis within a decentralized and reorganized Yugoslav federation.4 However, with the independence of Slovenia and Croatia, Macedonia’s leaders believed that independence was preferable to remaining in a rump Yugoslavia dominated by Serbia. On 8 September 1991, Macedonians voted for independence in a referendum, but it was boycotted by the country’s large ethnic minority, the Albanians. Following negotiations between President Gligorov and President Slobodan Milosevic, the Yugoslav National Army ( JNA) withdrew from Macedonia without a shot being fired. Macedonia was the only republic to secede peacefully from the former Yugoslavia. At independence the new state faced a number of external and internal threats to its stability and survival. It had troubled relations with each of its neighbours. Albania recognized Macedonia, but the status and treatment of ethnic Albanians was a major issue of contention between the two countries. Bulgaria recognized the Macedonian state, but did not recognize a Macedonian nation and language. Serbia did not recognize the Macedonian state, which some radical Serbian nationalists considered as ‘South Serbia’. Greece did not recognize that Macedonia was a state because of a dispute over the country’s name, flag and constitution. Greece claimed that ‘Macedonia’ is a Greek name; that articles of the Macedonian constitution implied territorial claims to Greece’s northern province of Macedonia; and objected to the use of the 16-pointed star of vergina found on the tomb of Philip of Macedon on the new republic’s flag. Internally, ethnic tensions grew between ethnic Slav Macedonians and Albanians, amidst worsening economic crisis. According to the results of a 1994 census, judged to be reliable by international observers, 66.5 per cent of the country’s citizens are ethnic Macedonians, 22.9 per cent are ethnic Albanians, 4 per cent are ethnic Turks, 2.3 per cent are Roma, 2 per cent are ethnic Serbs, 0.4 per cent are Vlachs, 1.8 per cent belong to other ethnic groups, and 0.1 per cent did not state their ethnic affiliation. However, all ethnic Albanian leaders dispute the results, claiming the number of ethnic Albanians was under-reported for political reasons.

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Preventive diplomacy rediscovered As Michael Schechter notes in chapter 4 of this volume, the phrase ‘preventive diplomacy’ was coined by the second UN Secretary-General, Dag Hammarskjöld, and referred to UN efforts at preventing local disputes and conflicts in the Third World from igniting a confrontation between the superpowers.5 One of the tools of preventive diplomacy has been peacekeeping. However, the term ‘preventive diplomacy’ has failed to gain currency. Alan James has suggested that ‘this was due to Hammarskjöld’s reluctance to elaborate and publicize the concept, to the superfluity (in a UN context) of describing its diplomacy as preventive, and the inappropriateness of the word diplomacy in relation to the UN’s activity in the field.’6 Boutros Boutros-Ghali’s 1992 report, An Agenda for Peace, gave a new boost to the concept of preventive diplomacy. Preventive diplomacy was defined as ‘action to prevent disputes from arising between parties, to prevent existing disputes from escalating into conflicts and to limit the spread of the latter when they occur’.7 The report identified five instruments for implementing preventive diplomacy: confidence-building measures; factfinding; early warning; preventive deployment; and the establishment of demilitarized zones. Boutros-Ghali declared: ‘The time has come to plan for circumstances warranting preventive deployment, which could take place in a variety of instances and ways.’8 Six months after the publication of An Agenda for Peace the first preventive deployment force in the United Nations’ history was mobilized in Macedonia. Establishing the preventive force On 11 November 1992, during a meeting with the UNSG at UN Headquarters, President Gligorov requested that the United Nations deploy ‘observers’ in Macedonia ‘in view of his concern about the possible impact on it of fighting elsewhere in the former Yugoslavia’.9 He also feared that if conflict erupted in Serbia’s predominantly Albanian province of Kosovo, the fighting would spill over into Macedonia. This would ignite a wider Balkan war involving Albania and Serbia. President Gligorov’s request was supported by Cyrus Vance and Lord Owen, Co-Chairmen of the Steering Committee of the International Conference on the Former Yugoslavia. With the approval of the Security Council, the Secretary-General sent an exploratory mission of military, police and civilian personnel to Macedonia from 18 November to 3 December 1992, to prepare a report on a UN deployment. The UNSG endorsed the mission’s recommendation that a UN presence should be established on Macedonia’s borders with Albania and Yugoslavia with the following preventive mandate: (a) to monitor the border areas and report to the Secretary-General … any developments which could pose a threat to Macedonia;

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(b) by its presence, to deter such threats from any source, as well as help prevent clashes which could otherwise occur between external elements and Macedonian forces, thus helping to strengthen security and confidence in Macedonia.10 To implement this mandate the mission recommended the deployment of a battalion of 700 soldiers, 35 military observers and a small number of international civilian personnel. In addition, 26 civilian police (CIVPOL) were to be deployed to monitor the local border police as there had been reports of harassment of Albanians crossing the border. By Resolution 795 the Security Council approved the Secretary-General’s proposal and urged the UN operation to coordinate closely with the CSCE mission that was already in Macedonia. The four Nordic countries (Denmark, Finland, Norway and Sweden) agreed to provide a joint Nordic Battalion (NORDBAT). The involvement of the Nordics, staunch supporters of UN peacekeeping, was the result of their leaders’ liberal-institutionalist view of European security, with its emphasis on conflict prevention.11 A Canadian company serving with the UN Protection Force (UNPROFOR) in Croatia was deployed in Macedonia from 7 January 1993 until 19 February 1993, at which time NORDBAT became operational. In June 1993 the United States agreed to provide 300 soldiers to augment the operation. Madeleine Albright, then US Ambassador to the United Nations, declared that this was ‘further evidence of [US] commitment to support multilateral efforts to prevent spillover and contribute to stability in the Balkan region’.12 Although Secretary-General Boutros-Ghali had not requested the US troops, he none the less expressed the view that ‘the United States deployment will further strengthen confidence and stability in the former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia and underscore the message that the international community will not accept any further widening of the tragic conflict in the region.’13 The Macedonian government welcomed the deployment of US troops for military and political reasons. It believed that the troops would increase the deterrent power of the UN Force, and hoped that their presence would hasten US diplomatic recognition of Macedonia. On 18 June 1993 Security Council Resolution 842 authorized the deployment of US troops in Macedonia. US troops wore blue berets and were under the operational control of the Nordic UN Commander. At its peak in 1996, UNPREDEP was composed of 1,050 troops, 35 military observers, an Indonesian engineering platoon, 26 CIVPOL and some 200 local and international civilian staff.

Guarding Balkan frontiers The preventive mandate of UNPREDEP broke new ground, but it was implemented by traditional peacekeeping methods. The Force established

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observation posts and temporary observation posts along Macedonia’s 240 km northern border with Serbia, and along its 182 km western border with Albania. The Nordic and US battalions conducted a daily average of 40 border and community patrols by foot, vehicle and helicopter.14 Separate patrols were conducted by the military observers. CIVPOL monitors conducted community patrols, liaised with local law enforcement authorities and investigated complaints of assaults by local police against ethnic Albanians.15 From the start of the deployment the absence of a demarcated border between Macedonia and Serbia posed a major challenge to implementing the mandate of the Force. During the first 18 months of the operation, there were several encounters between UN military personnel and Serb soldiers, with the latter alleging that UN peacekeepers had strayed into Serbian territory. Although these incidents were resolved swiftly, they underlined the need for a solution to the problem. In the summer of 1994, Brigadier-General Tryggve Tellefsen of Norway, the UN Commander, negotiated a ‘UN Patrol Line’ with the Macedonian and Yugoslav military authorities. Under the ‘gentleman’s agreement’ both countries accepted the Patrol Line as the northern limit of the UN’s area of responsibility, and as the basis for reporting and management of border-crossing incidents. The agreement resulted in a significant reduction in the number of incidents between UN peacekeepers and Serb soldiers. In June 1994, the Cupino Brdo Incident brought Macedonia and Serbia to the brink of conflict, and was an important test of the preventive operation. Cupino Brdo, a strategic hill on the northern corner of the Macedonian–Serbian border, was the scene of a major battle during the Second World War. Macedonians and Serbs usually visit a memorial on the hill on the anniversary of the battle, on 14 June. In early June, 12 Serb soldiers occupied the hill, which Macedonia claimed was within its territory. In response, Macedonia despatched about 30 troops to the area, and placed another 100 on standby for possible deployment. Tension increased after the Macedonian government denied permission to Serbs who wished to visit the memorial. After a Macedonian soldier was detained and later released by the Serbs near Cupino Brdo, the Macedonian authorities threatened military action to eject the Serbs from the hill if they did not leave voluntarily. In view of the rising tension between Macedonia and Serbia, BrigadierGeneral Tellefsen launched a shuttle diplomatic mission between Skopje and Belgrade, and a final negotiating session at Cupino Brdo on 10 July 1994 between Colonel-General Dragoljub Bocinov, Chief of the Macedonian General Staff, and Lieutenant-General Blagoje Kovacevic, Deputy Chief of the Yugoslav General Staff. Tellefsen brokered an agreement under which both sides agreed to withdraw their troops, and a UN buffer zone was established around Cupino Brdo which was off limits to Macedonian and Serb soldiers.

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The Cupino Brdo Incident illustrated the efficacy of preventive deployment. First, since the peacekeeping troops had been deployed before the onset of conflict, they were in a position to intervene before the dynamics of escalation made the incident difficult or impossible to stop. Second, UNPREDEP provided a face-saving mechanism for both sides to pull back from open confrontation. Third, the UN buffer zone freed Macedonia of the financial and military burden of having to deploy its own troops at Cupino Brdo.

Assisting with domestic matters When UN troops were initially deployed in Macedonia, the most pressing concern was the danger of external attack and the spillover of violence. However, during the first year of the United Nations’ presence, it became increasingly apparent that internal tensions, particularly between ethnic Macedonians and Albanians, were growing. In March 1994, the SecretaryGeneral struck a cautionary note in his report to the Security Council: the UN Force had ‘no mandate in relation to the internal situation in the former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia, which could prove to be more detrimental to the stability of the country than external aggression’.16 The Security Council heeded the Secretary-General’s warning and in Resolution 908 of 31 March 1994, ‘encouraged the Special Representative of the Secretary-General for the Former Yugoslavia, in cooperation with the authorities of the former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia, to use his good offices as appropriate to contribute to the maintenance of peace and stability in that Republic’. The Macedonian government was not enthusiastic about the good offices mandate, and feared that it would permit the UN to interfere in sensitive internal matters, especially inter-ethnic relations. None the less, it resigned itself to the good offices mandate as the price it had to pay for the security and international political legitimation provided by UNPREDEP. In contrast, ethnic Albanian political parties welcomed the good offices function as a positive step towards the internationalization of the ‘Albanian question’ in Macedonia. Following the Security Council’s approval of the good offices mandate, the SRSG for the Former Yugoslavia, Yasushi Akashi, appointed Hugo Anson as his Delegate in Macedonia. Anson had extensive experience in peacekeeping and had served with UN operations in Namibia, Angola and Croatia. He believed that the good offices mandate should be interpreted cautiously and dynamically rather than cautiously and restrictively. The good offices mandate raised the United Nations’ political profile in Macedonia. The SRSG Delegate encouraged the government and major political parties to seek centrist solutions to internal problems; made specific proposals to increase international economic assistance to Macedonia; and regularly explained to the

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local and international media the situation in and around Macedonia, and what the United Nations was doing to assist. In the run-up to Macedonia’s presidential and parliamentary elections in October 1994, Anson encouraged political leaders to sign a Declaration setting a code of conduct for the elections, as well as principles for interethnic cooperation. The leaders of political parties agreed to ensure that the elections were free and fair, to respect the results and ensure that their respective party members and supporters would refrain from activities and language which could encourage inter-ethnic and religious hatred or intolerance. The Declaration stressed that all citizens of the country, ‘no matter what their ethnic origin, have equal rights and equal obligations’.17 It was signed by 12 political parties, including the Social Democratic Union of Macedonia (SDSM) and the Liberal Party, two of the five major parties. The Declaration was an important political initiative and the result of a creative interpretation of the good offices function by the Delegate of the SRSG. After the first round of elections, the Speaker of the Macedonian Parliament, Stojan Andov, invited the United Nations to monitor the second and decisive round of elections on 30 October 1994, together with observers from the CSCE, the Council of Europe and some non-governmental organizations. Andov believed that election monitoring was consistent with the good offices mandate of the SRSG. The government’s willingness to invite the United Nations to monitor the elections on the basis of the good offices mandate which it resented was the result of practical political considerations of self-interest. It understood clearly the significance of credible elections for internal stability and its own international standing. The government saw a useful role for the good offices function which it had not expected when it was authorized by the Security Council. The mission’s Civil Affairs team monitored the elections, together with some 50 international observers. Through its good offices function UNPREDEP encouraged the Macedonian authorities and ethnic communities to find peaceful solutions to inter-ethnic problems. One of the main grievances of ethnic Albanians was discrimination in the field of education. The decision in 1994 by a group of ethnic Albanians to establish an Albanian-language university in Tetovo, a predominantly ethnic Albanian city of 300,000 people in western Macedonia, led to a bitter dispute between the authorities and the Albanian community and violent clashes with the police. The founders maintained that ethnic Albanians had a right to be educated in their mother tongue and that the university would remedy the deficiencies of the Pedagogical Academy in Skopje where Albanians trained as teachers. The government rejected the university’s request for accreditation on the grounds that it was unconstitutional, illegal and a step towards federalization. However, the legality of the matter was not clear-cut. Although Article 48 of the Macedonian Constitution states that ethnic minorities can use their mother tongue in

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primary and secondary school, it makes no mention of the language to be used in higher education. Article 45, however, states that ‘citizens have a right to establish private schools at all levels of education, with the exception of primary education, under conditions determined by law’.18 UNPREDEP intervened publicly and privately with the Macedonian authorities and ethnic Albanian leaders. On 17 February 1995 riot police clashed with ethnic Albanians as they attempted to stop classes being held in Mala Recica, near Tetovo. An ethnic Albanian, Abduseljian Emini, was fatally shot and 28 people, including nine policemen, were wounded. The SRSG Delegate urged ‘all parties to continue on the path of dialogue, goodwill, compromise and restraint … [and] to act strictly within the Constitution and laws’ of Macedonia. He appealed to all citizens ‘to think of themselves first and foremost as citizens and only afterwards as members of various ethnic groups’.19 The university of Tetovo has continued to function. It is tolerated by the Macedonian government, if not officially recognized. On the one hand, UNPREDEP helped to contain the dispute and to prevent it from igniting a violent ethnic conflict. On the other hand, lacking leverage, the mission was unable to get the Macedonian authorities and ethnic Albanians to find a permanent solution to the dispute. Although there was no mention of humanitarian assistance in UNPREDEP’s mandate, through a combination of humanitarian concern, moral duty and pragmatic considerations, the operation felt compelled to assist in alleviating humanitarian needs. Given the poverty in many areas in Macedonia, the mission believed that it had a moral responsibility to assist in providing humanitarian assistance within its limited resources. Humanitarian assistance was also viewed as a means to enhance the United Nations’ image in the country, support ‘force protection’ and strengthen UNPREDEP’s links with the local population. As the UNPREDEP Force Commander Brigadier-General Bo Wranker remarked: ‘Humanitarian aid provided by the military troops is a peacekeeping tool or technique that enhances the security of the Force and to a large degree the execution of the mandate … . The cost of providing humanitarian aid will always pay off … in decreasing the tensions between the local population and the members of the Force.’20 The military troops regularly provided humanitarian aid and assisted in medical emergencies and evacuations. They also helped to construct and repair roads, telecommunications facilities and water distribution systems in different parts of the country. The humanitarian assistance provided by the blue helmets benefited thousands of Macedonians of all ethnic groups during years of economic crisis. But these efforts were a palliative and could not address the fundamental causes of economic and social problems. However, through the peacebuilding initiatives of UNPREDEP an attempt was made to link humanitarian aid and sustainable development projects as part of a comprehensive preventive strategy.

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UNPREDEP faced three major obstacles in developing humanitarian projects. First, the mission had no discretionary funds for such programmes, and consequently would have had to rely on extra-budgetary resources and voluntary contributions. Second, it lacked civilian personnel with the necessary professional expertise to formulate and implement development programmes. Third, the Macedonian authorities and some Security Council members believed that such activities constituted peacebuilding rather than peacekeeping and therefore it was more appropriate that they should be undertaken by the UN Development Programme (UNDP) and other development agencies. Despite these problems UNPREDEP managed to initiate a number of projects, including training programmes for social welfare workers; training police officers in crime prevention, drug trafficking and narcotics control; and workshops and seminars in social development. A small family business incubator project was launched with $50,000 from the Voluntary Fund of the International Year of the Family to enable a modest number of families to gain economic independence and get off social welfare. In 1996 BoutrosGhali noted that these projects ‘have had important results in building confidence between the people of the host country and the mission. They have also paved the way for any successor arrangements that may be put in place once the preventive deployment operation in the country comes to an end.’21 In two and a half years, UNPREDEP managed to raise some $6 million in cash and in kind for social integration projects.22 UNPREDEP’s peacebuilding activities reinforced its military, political and diplomatic action, and enhanced local support for the operation. They bridged the humanitarian assistance provided by the Nordic and US Battalions and medium and long-range development programmes. UNPREDEP also filled a critical gap in international development assistance to Macedonia as the UNDP, the lead UN development agency, did not open an office in Skopje until June 1998 due to budgetary constraints.

When does a preventive operation come to an end? Deciding on the timing of a withdrawal of a preventive operation from the field is as difficult and as critical as knowing when to begin deployment. Positive changes in the regional landscape, including Macedonia’s normalization of relations with its neighbours, and the effectiveness of UNPREDEP in implementing its mandate raised questions about the termination of the operation. Had the threats to Macedonia’s security and stability ended? When was the appropriate time to withdraw the Force? Following the 1995 Dayton Agreement, the main bone of contention was the position of some members of the Security Council, notably Russia, that the preventive deployment could be implemented at less cost by military observers. Other Council members, notably the United States, as well as the

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other troop-contributing governments and the host government insisted that the two infantry battalions were still required. The Secretary-General’s assessment was that military observers would be an inadequate replacement for the UN troops. The troops were retained, but on 28 May 1997, the Security Council by Resolution 1110 unanimously authorized the reduction of the military component by 300. On 4 December 1997, acting on the Secretary-General’s recommendation, the Council by Resolution 1142 decided ‘to extend the mandate of UNPREDEP for the final period until 31 August 1998, with the withdrawal of the military component immediately thereafter.’ The eruption of the crisis in Kosovo in February 1998 (dealt with later in this volume by Tom Keating) granted another lease on life to UNPREDEP. The operation strengthened its monitoring and reporting of developments in the border region; increased its ground and air patrols; established temporary observation posts for monitoring round the clock, and began patrols by boat at Ohrid and Prespa Lakes.23 However, because of its reduced strength, UNPREDEP could not continue the same level of monitoring for a prolonged period of time, and the increased demands on the Force put at risk the implementation of its other tasks. In July 1998 the Security Council approved the Secretary-General’s recommendation to extend the mandate of UNPREDEP for a further six months and increase its troop strength by 350. The election of a centre-right Macedonian government in the autumn of 1998 had far-reaching repercussions on UNPREDEP. The new governing coalition was composed of the Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization-Democratic Party of Macedonian National Unity (VMRO-DPMNE), the Democratic Alternative and the Democratic Party of Albanians. In February 1999, the government, led by Prime Minister Ljubco Georgievski, decided to establish diplomatic relations with Taiwan, and in return, would receive an estimated $2 billion in aid and investment. China, which considers Taiwan a renegade province, decided to break diplomatic relations with Macedonia. On 25 February 1999 China’s veto blocked a renewal of the mandate of UNPREDEP. The political decision to withdraw UNPREDEP demonstrated that exit strategies for UN peacekeeping operations cannot be divorced from the foreign policies of key members of the Security Council.

Conclusion In establishing UNPREDEP the Security Council took a major step towards translating the rhetoric of conflict prevention into reality. UNPREDEP helped to preserve Macedonia’s stability and was a source of reassurance to its people at a vulnerable period in their country’s history. Through its monitoring and reporting activities, the operation served as a vital earlywarning mechanism to the United Nations.

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UNPREDEP illustrated a number of important lessons about preventive operations and the key factors which accounted for the success of the mission:
Political will. The political will of member states is a sine qua non for con-














flict prevention. In the Macedonian case there was a consensus in the Security Council on the need to undertake preventive deployment and major governments believed it was in their national interest to do so. Timing. The United Nations established a presence in Macedonia before the outbreak of hostilities and the Force was deployed swiftly. Consent and support of the host country. UNPREDEP was deployed after the request and with the consent of the Macedonian government. In addition, the mission received the active support and cooperation of all the political parties, and the Macedonian people of all ethnic groups. The mandate. The Security Council gave a clear and feasible mandate to UNPREDEP. The military dimension was unambiguous, while the good offices function provided the flexibility required for political action. Composition of the Force. The nationalities of the contingents were an ideal blend. The experience of the Nordic troops in peacekeeping complemented the robust military credibility of the US Battalion. Resources. The principal resources provided to UNPREDEP were adequate to fulfil its mandate.

Notes 1. In 1993 the newly independent state was admitted to the United Nations under the provisional name of the former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia as a result of a dispute with Greece over its constitutional name, the Republic of Macedonia. For the sake of brevity I refer to the country as Macedonia, but this should be interpreted neither as an endorsement nor a rejection of the term. 2. The Mission was originally part of the UN Protection Force (UNPROFOR) and at its inception was named ‘Macedonia Command’ and later ‘FYROM Command’. Although the acronym UNPREDEP only appeared in 1995, and the Mission became an independent one only in 1996, I will refer throughout to it as UNPREDEP. 3. Misha Glenny, ‘The Birth of a Nation’, The New York Review of Books (16 November 1995) p. 24. 4. The history of the disintegration of the former Yugoslavia is well documented. See Misha Glenny, The Fall of Yugoslavia: The Third Balkan War, revised and updated edition (New York: Penguin Books, 1993); Robert D. Kaplan, Balkan Ghosts: A Journey through History (New York: Vintage Books, 1993); Laura Silber and Allan Little, Yugoslavia: Death of a Nation, revised and updated edition (New York: Penguin Books, 1997); Susan Woodward, Balkan Tragedy: Chaos and Dissolution after the Cold War (Washington, D.C.: The Brookings Institution, 1995); Warren Zimmerman, Origins of a Catastrophe: Yugoslavia and Its Destroyers (New York: Times Books, 1996).

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5. Dag Hammarskjöld, Introduction to the Annual Report of the Secretary-General on the Work of the Organisation, 16 June 1959–15 June 1960, UN General Assembly, Official Records, Fifteenth Session, Supplement No. 1A. 6. Alan James, ‘UN Preventive Diplomacy in Historical Perspective’. Paper presented to the International Workshop on An Agenda for Preventive Diplomacy: Theory and Practice, Skopje, 16–19 December 1996. 7. Boutros Boutros-Ghali, An Agenda for Peace (New York: United Nations, 1992), para. 20. 8. Boutros Boutros-Ghali, An Agenda for Peace, para. 28. 9. S/24851, 25 November 1992. 10. S/24923, 9 December 1992, Annex para. 17. 11. Clive Archer, ‘Conflict Prevention in Europe: The Case of the Nordic States and Macedonia’, Conflict and Cooperation, Vol. 29, No. 4 (1994), p. 376. 12. S/25954, 15 June 1993. 13. S/26099, 13 July 1993, para. 24. 14. S/1996/65, 30 January 1996, para. 5. 15. S/26099, 13 July 1993, paras. 15–17. 16. S/1994/300, 16 March 1994, para. 37. 17. Declaration by Political Parties, Skopje, 6 October 1994. 18. Constitution of the Republic of Macedonia, Skopje, 1991. 19. UNPROFOR FYROM Command, Statement to the Press, Skopje, 18 February 1995. 20. Bo Wranker, ‘Preventive Diplomacy: Military Component’. Paper presented to the International Workshop on An Agenda for Preventive Diplomacy: Theory and Practice, Skopje, 16–19 October 1996. 21. S/1996/961, 19 November 1996, para. 8. 22. S/1997/911, 20 November 1997, para. 6. 23. S/1998/454, 1 June 1998, para. 5.

6 UN Intervention and Peacebuilding in Somalia: Constraints and Possibilities W. Andy Knight and Kassu Gebremariam

Introduction The vicious internecine warfare witnessed in Somalia during the late 1980s and early 1990s shocked casual observers across the globe, in terms of both excesses of the violence and the seeming inability of the international community to bring about a resolution. Somalia ceased to exist as a state and was divided into different autonomous centres of power. Preceding that, the state’s jurisdiction had been significantly altered when the north unilaterally declared independence without consulting the southern groups in the country and without consent from the central government. The entire south was left in ruins, with well-armed, clan-based factions controlling different sections of Mogadishu. Outside Mogadishu, in the rest of the south, rival political organizations carved out regional power centres. The situation resulted in what has been called a ‘failed state’.1 Repeated UN attempts, since 1992, to reunite the north and south regions and to bring about a peaceful settlement of disputes failed. Admission of this failure can be found in UN Security Council Resolution 865, adopted on 22 September 1995, which set the end of March 1995 as the date for ending the UN peacekeeping effort in Somalia. From this resolution it was clearly expected that, at the time of the withdrawal, the country’s security operations would be handed over to an elected Somali government. In fact, no such government existed at the time of the UN withdrawal and the immediate result was further violence and a worsening of the conditions that led to the civil war. Today, millions of Somalis are living a precarious existence. Scarcity of food and shelter is alarming. There is rampant lawlessness and disorder due to the absence of any vestige of governance. The warlords simply contribute to this state of misery and despair by placing their interests above those of the Somalian civil society and the ‘state’. Thus, the following questions remain. How can Somalia move towards national reconciliation and reunification? What prerequisites are necessary for this to become a reality? What concrete steps will have to be taken to 77

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rebuild the Somali state and reconstitute its civil society? Who will, or ought to, be the most likely players in this process? Is there a role for the United Nations? What lesson does the Somalian case teach us about UN intervention and attempts at state-building that can help the international community avoid making mistakes in the future.

The problem of collapsed states William Zartman explains the failed state phenomenon as a situation where legitimate political, power and legal structures have ‘fallen apart’ resulting, not necessarily in anarchy, but in the collapse of the state apparatus.2 This definition of state collapse is also distinguished from the historical phenomenon associated with the fall of great civilizations of the past in so far as it describes a much more narrow and identifiable anomaly which hinges upon the assumption that population and territory can and should be divided into political jurisdictions to be controlled and governed by a state apparatus (military, civil service, legislative government, executive branch and courts).3 Failed states exhibit several symptoms. Below are some experienced by African states that have either failed or are failing: (1) postcolonial condition of flag independence which produces juridical and nominal statehood but lacks the basis for empirical stateness; (2) autocratic rule which usually results in the suppression and repression of opposition voices, leading to major challenges from repressed elements of civil society that serve to undermine the state; (3) factional civil war between nationalist governments and guerrilla movements which destroy a fledgling state’s apparatus; (4) the use of military force as the main tool of state construction (and the use of force to extract compliance from among civil society) can result in delegitimization of the state; (5) the widespread presence of arms throughout a society can undermine many of the institutions of the state; and (6) internal corruption. The situation in Somalia had elements of all of the above failed state symptoms.

Understanding and explaining the Somali conflict and the failed attempts to redress it What the Somali case has taught us is that understanding the nature of a conflict is essential for devising means to end it. Adopting an historical approach is key to understanding the factors leading to social decay in Africa. Several factors account for the deteriorating situation and human tragedy. The following seven can be identified: (1) longstanding historical factional divisions between various Somali clans and sub-clans that can be traced to that country’s pre-colonial history; (2) the mistakes attributable to

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the legacy of colonialism; (3) the radical departure by the postcolonial Somalian Republic from traditional political and socio-economic arrangements with little thought about what might replace them; (4) the corrupt authoritarian rule of President Mohamed Siyaad Barre; (5) the Cold War ideological climate which allowed for the suppression of some longstanding grievances held by one Somali faction against another; (6) the influx of weapons into the country from key arms-producing states; and (7) the failure of the governing elite to address the real political, economic and sociological problems that existed in Somalia prior to the outbreak of the conflict. Attempts by the United Nations, African and Islamic regional organizations and NGOs (particularly Western-based ones) to end the bloodshed and bring Somalia back from the brink of total collapse proved unsuccessful primarily because the short-term measures used could not address the broader, long-term issues that led to the deterioration of the Somali state and its civil society. An historical approach The people known as the Somalis, who inhabit a portion of the ‘Horn of Africa’ in northeast Africa, have a long and complex history. In order to understand how the Somalian crisis came to be it is important to place this event within an historical and sociological context. The following discussion provides the background factors that are part of that context. Although oral histories and some Arab texts provide early information on the area of Somalia, those recounts tend towards stereotype rather than academic description.4 It is the work of the anthropologist I. M. Lewis that provides one of the first reliable accounts of Somalia. According to his research,5 the Somali people constitute a striking anomaly. They are Hamitic people, related to the other inhabitants of the Horn of Africa as well as to Arabs.6 Somalis are generally referred to as ‘homogeneous’, that is, being of the same race, religion and speaking the same language. However, this is clearly an oversimplification. In fact, Somalis are internally divided by ancestry and dialect. The ancestry division is between those who descended from the ‘Samale’ (whose name is extended to the whole people, as the Samale form the ethnic majority), and those who are descended from the ‘Sab’.7 The ‘Samale’ is in turn divided into four main clan families: the Dir, the Isaq, the Hawiye and the Darod. The Somali language is divided into different dialects, the principal division being between the people of the north and the people of the south. This linguistic division corresponds with the primary ethnic division of the Somali people; the ‘Samale’ (or ‘Samaale’) residing in the North and the ‘Sab’ living in the South.8 In addition, there are a number of minority ethnic groups such as Arabs, Persians, Bantu and Indo-Pakistani populations living in Somalia. The

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traditional pastoral-nomadic Samale, of the North, are divided into the four main clan families named above. The Sab, of the south, are traditionally sedentary cultivators and are further divided into two main clans: the Digil and the Rahanweh.9 But since the majority of Somalis are Samale’s, the societal economy has traditionally been oriented around pastoral-nomadism. Social institutions are therefore geared to the needs of a pastoral-nomadic society and reflect the values of these people. In religious terms, the Somali people are homogeneous. Burton described them as, for the most part, Shafei Muslims. While Burton labelled the Somalis nominal Muhammedans, it has been observed that the Sab tends to be relatively conscientious Muslims, whereas the Samale tends towards the mysticism of Sufism. The differences between the Samale and the Sab have been blunted by modernization.10 What differences remain can be observed in the dialect but not language, in the religious practices but not the religion, and in the socioeconomic practices but not the politics, and these variations are quite minor. However, the question remains: why would some relatively homogeneous people engage in genocidal acts against each other? Part of the answer can be found in what divides Somalis. The problem of clannism As Hussein Adam puts it, ‘Clannism is the Somali version of the generic problem of ethnicity or tribalism: it represents primordial cleavages and cultural fragmentation within Somali society.’11 Each of the major Somali clan families is subdivided into several other clans, sub-clans, lineages and extended families. Somali clans are held together not by any political institutions, but by patrilineal kinship.12 Each individual Somali’s place in society is determined by patrilineage (tol), that is, descent in the male line.13 Yet, there has traditionally been no real hierarchical structure among the Samale, and decisions are usually taken by the tribal elders. The greatest loyalty of any Somali is to his/her diya-paying group, otherwise known as the jilib,14 whose membership may total anywhere from a few hundred to several thousand members.15 Diya is essentially ‘the payment of compensation for inflicted injury or death’.16 Each clan may be made up of several diya-paying groups which, from time to time, may develop antagonisms towards each other, but will generally unite to defend the clan.17 While patrilineage is the fundamental social institution in Somali society, diyapaying groups are the most important form of political organization.18 A traditional/informal Somali social contract, known as the Xeer, has held Somali society together through a voluntary acceptance of the need to keep individual conflicts from escalating into devastating feuds. The Xeer is a set of norms and rules socially constructed to safeguard security and social justice within the Somali society, is best described as a combination of the diya system and the Wergeld (blood-laws) system common among the Germanic tribes of the early medieval era in Europe. The rationale behind the popular,

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democratically constructed (all adult males took part in it) Xeer was for the Somali people to have a social non-coercive mechanism through which occasional conflicts between individuals and communities could be checked.19 Divisions along clan family lines have been the basis for many of the conflicts that brewed in Somalia over the pre- and postcolonial years.20 While it is true that Somali politicians have used clan ties to justify corruption, it is equally true that politicized clannism has been used to manipulate the elite as well. Clan conflicts in Somalia tend to increase during periods of extreme scarcities (e.g. drought and famine) and during periods of war. This is true of the period leading up to the collapse of the Somali state at the beginning of the 1990s.21 Pre-colonial pastoralism in Somalia was ‘stateless’, two-tiered and centred on home wells, the permanent watering holes for each family or clan. In general, water rights were not considered private in traditional Somali society.22 Camels, being prized possessions, were the primary unit for all economic and social transactions, from the aforementioned diya of 100 camels in compensation for the accidental killing of a man, to the exchange of camels between the families of a man and his wife at a wedding.23 Incidents of fighting and theft of livestock, especially of cattle and camels, were quite common in pre- and postcolonial Somalia. Access to the other vital necessities also prompted competition and strife. The passage from one pasture area to another frequently precipitated feuds, particularly during droughts and famines. The incidence of fighting between descendants of ‘Samale’ – the Dir, the Isaq, the Hawiye and the Darod was high, and they fought against each other as often as they fought the descendants of the ‘Sab’, Digil and Rahanwin. The scarcity of vital necessities such as good grazing pastures and water meant that any strong, centralized system of authority would be highly impractical. The nomadicpastoralists’ ability to subsist without the supervision or cooperation of any other social group, and the characteristics of pastoralism itself (such as the maintenance of herds year round on a system of free-range grazing, periodic mobility and stock raiding) undermined the development of any stable, political organization between the various clans.24 The gathering of many nuclear families in one area at any particular time depended largely on the availability of water and grazing.25 Good grazing and adequate water vary with the seasons and from year to year. The pastoral-nomadic way of life continued uninterrupted until the arrival of Europeans in the mid-nineteenth century. However, the arrival of both British and Italian colonialism by the end of the nineteenth century made possible the creation of the modern territorial state commonly known as Somalia and this produced major challenges to the traditional way of life in that country. The recent civil wars and the collapse of the Somali state/society complex are inextricably tied to the very origin of the Somali state, to the slow

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erosion and demise of communitarianism, to the forced integration of Somali pastoralist economy into the global capitalist system, to the transition from one social order to another, and to the peculiar character of the British and Italian colonialism. As traditional Somali society encountered the expansionist and imperialist colonial powers of Italy and Great Britain, as well as the forces of modernization later on, a number of tensions developed that resulted in major schisms among its civil society. Legacy of colonialism About the middle of the nineteenth century, the leading European states were drawn to the Horn of Africa region for different reasons.26 Britain was preoccupied with the need to search for fresh meat for its garrison in Aden (Yemen). To this end, between 1884 and 1885, Britain signed treaties of protection with the major northern Somali clans guaranteeing them independence. The fact that the maintenance of the meat supply was Britain’s principal interest meant that Britain’s colonial policy was not interventionist so long as the supplies of meat were not threatened. As such, the British did not actively attempt to control the Somali hinterland, leaving the Somali’s to their traditional, pastoral means of existence. Consequently, the British colonial administration did not make substantial changes to the precolonial modes of economic activity.27 The social formation Britain encountered in its Somaliland colony posed inherent barriers to the transformation of the dominant pre-colonial economic activity; pastoral-nomadism. The principal obstacle was the autonomy the pastoralist enjoyed. The specific features of nomadic pastoralism meant that the British were unable to establish effective control and discipline over the nomads. For instance, when Britain attempted to impose taxes, religious leaders (Wadadas) announced that any Muslim who paid the tax would be considered an infidel. The district commissioner of Burao, Captain Gibbs, was killed in an anti-tax uprising.28 The colony’s annual revenue in 1908 was £38,000, but the total expenditure for the colonial establishment was £107,000. This deficit was made up by imperial grants-in-aid. When the colonial administration suggested some form of educational system, the idea was met with stiff resistance by the Somali. Prominent among those who opposed the idea of modern education was Sheik Mohammed Abdile Hassan (the so-called ‘mad Mullah’), as he felt that it was an instrument of Christianization. Leading the Dervish rebellion, he fought the British from 1899 to 1920.29 The British administration, although fully aware of the importance of stock raising for the northerners, signed agreements with Ethiopia in 1897 and 1954 in order to reduce the conflicts between Ethiopia and the colonial administration. These agreements were known as the Anglo-Ethiopian border treaties. In the 1897 Treaty Britain conceded

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to Ethiopia the Haud and Ogaden regions, but obtained a concession from Ethiopia allowing the northern pastoralists access to the Haud and Reserve area of the Ogaden for the grazing and watering of their herds. The agreement of 29 November 1954 transferred the administration of the Ogaden and the Haud to Ethiopia. Britain’s transference of the Ogaden to Ethiopia was a consequence of Italy’s defeat and the restoration of Ethiopia’s independence in the Second World War. In sharp contrast to the strategic interest that pulled Britain to northern Somalia, Italy’s interest in the southern region was to transform it into a settlement. Italy’s desire for a colony in the south had been judiciously promoted through the use of diplomacy and opportunity. The prominent treaty is the April 1983 Treaty of Protection which Prince Ruspoliof Italy concluded with the southern clans (What). This treaty enhanced Italy’s authority in the hinterland. Italy, a latecomer to colonialism, and craving its own colonial empire, aimed to attract settlers from the mother country by developing plantations along the Shebelle and the Juba rivers of the south. The reason behind Italy’s preference for the Shebelle and the Juba rivers of the south was its inability to subject the pastoralists to production, enforce discipline and collect taxes. This was primarily because of the stiff resistance by many of the southern clans. The Darod clan, which constituted the majority of the nomadic population of Somalia, resisted Italy’s rule until 1925.30 The transformative role of Italy’s colonization of the southern region was also impeded by the predominance of nomadic-pastoralism. The colonial administration was structurally inessential to them, denying Rome the means of extraction of surplus value. Without the transfer of surplus product from the nomadic pastoralists to the colonial administration and investors, the capacity of the colonial economy to expand was very limited. Despite Italy’s desire to transform the south into a settler colony, the pastoral way of life of the Somalis proved to be the most significant obstacle to the promotion of its imperial interests. The resources at the disposal of the colonizer, such as finance capital, the will, the availability of trained personnel and institutions of the modern state (law, police, taxation, army, bureaucracy), in short, the ingredients of European politics, proved insufficient to the task of running a profitable colony in Somalia. This being the case, investors from Italy had no alternative but to invest in the region inhabited by the Digil and Rahanwein clans.31 A chain of large banana plantations developed along the region benefited the farmers and the colonial administration. The Societa Agricola Italio-Somalia (SAIS) became an agricultural consortium producing cotton, sugar, bananas, oil and soap.32 Italian rule in southern Somalia ended in 1941 when the British troops drove Italy’s forces out of the Horn of Africa and brought the former Italian colonies under British control. In sharp contrast to the strategic interest

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that pulled Britain to northern Somalia, the interest of Italy in the southern region until 1941 was to transform it into its settler colony. Italy’s craving for a colony in the south had been judiciously promoted through a series of ratification and cancellation of treaties, whenever it felt that it was best positioned to realize its ambition. Postcolonial Somalia (dating back to 1960) is an artificial creation; the result of a merging of the Italian colony of Somalia with British Somaliland in the north. This merger produced strains in the new Republic.

Artificial unification A discussion of the policies both imperial powers pursued on the eve of their departure is germane to the topic of state-building, as it was at this time that many reforms were implemented which contributed directly to unification and independence of Somalia. Also, the differences between the two colonial powers contributed directly to the difficulties experienced by the government of Somalia. Among others, the policies of Britain and Italy were geared towards the unification of north and south Somalia, and the implementation of administrative and political institutions. The major change with respect to the unification of the British and Italian Somalilands involved Britain’s occupation of southern Somalia for a decade, 1941–50. After the outbreak of the Second World War, the Italians invaded the British protectorate of Somaliland. In August 1940, troops of the Africa Orientale Italiana conquered British Somaliland.33 The territories of the Somali (Somaliland, Eritrea and Ethiopia) were temporarily united under Italian rule. This was short-lived, however, as allied forces from Britain and the Commonwealth had liberated the former British and Italian protectorates by 1941. The rest of the Horn of Africa was liberated soon after, the Italian forces in Addis Ababa falling on 5 April, and the last Italian forces in north-east Africa surrendering at Gondar on 7 November of that same year.34 In British Somaliland, the changes introduced involved the formation of political parties and the Somalization of administrative posts. By 1951, there were two political parties, the Somali National League (SNL) and the Somali Youth League (SYL).35 The SNL had its strongest adherents amongst the Ishaq clan family. As well, Britain expanded the educational development programme in order to train a class of professionals and administrators.36 The colonial administration also introduced advanced methods of cultivation and developed projects related to pastoralism such as the drilling of wells and the improvement of veterinary services.37 In the south, one of the major changes Britain introduced pertained to the formation of political parties, although almost all of them were clan-based. The HDM (the Hisbia Digile Mirfile) was rooted among the Rahanwein. The Abgal Youth Association and the Somali African Union

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(SAU) found their members among the Hawiye while the Somali Progressive Party (SPL) was supported by the Digil clans.38 The SYL was the major exception because of its efforts to have multi-clan membership even if the majority of its adherents were drawn from the ranks of the Darod clan members. In the area of education, Britain established 29 public elementary schools with an enrolment of about 1,600 pupils.39 In 1949, for the first time in the region’s history, a school for girls was set up. However, the major administrative and political reforms in southern Somalia occurred when the Italian-administered UN Trusteeship began in 1950. Following the end of the war, the UN Four Power Commission (United Kingdom, France, the United States and the USSR) recommended that a UN Trusteeship, to be administered by Italy, be set up. The UN General Assembly decided on 21 November 1949, that the period of trusteeship would be limited to ten years.40 In order to work towards the goal of preparing the Trusteeship for independence, one of the first actions of the administration was to appoint a Territorial Council of 35 members in 1950. Most of these members were clan elders, only seven were from political parties.41 Municipal elections were held in 1954, and in 1956 territory-wide elections were held to elect a Legislative Assembly, in which the SYL obtained a clear majority. In both these elections, suffrage was universal among adult males. In 1958, there was another set of municipal elections, and in 1959 elections were again held for the Legislative Assembly. In these elections, suffrage was universal, male and female.42 The other hallmark of the UN Trusteeship administered by Italy was the training of Somalis for administrative posts. The School of Politics and Administration was established, producing the first core of state personnel. The process of unification of British and Italian Somalilands and their drive for independence was given further impetus by the anger many Somalis felt against the various treaties both Britain and Italy had made with Ethiopia at different points in time. Somali nationalists argued that the whole issue of the Somali-inhabited regions such as the Ogaden of Ethiopia, the Northern Frontier District (NFD) of Kenya, and Djibouti should be settled in line with the ideals of ‘Greater Somalia’.43 Nationalist fervour increased in both British and Italian Somalilands after 1956. The British administration felt it necessary to announce that preparations for independence would be speeded up, and in 1957 six nominees representing traditional clans were appointed by the Governor to the Legislative Council.44 In 1959, the Council was expanded to include twelve elected/acclaimed members, two appointees and fifteen administration officials. In 1959, the British government announced that it was willing to help mediate a unification of the Protectorate and Somalia after both had achieved independence.45 In the south, the desire for independence increased greatly after the UN General Assembly announced that the Trusteeship in Somalia would

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become independent at the end of the original ten-year period. In British Somaliland, the members of the Legislative Council had declared their support for independence and unification with the south as soon as possible, and now felt bound to keep their promises. On 6 April 1960, the Legislative Assembly passed a resolution demanding independence on 1 July 1960, and pledging unification with the south for that same date.46 After independence, the military regime of Siyaad Barre held the country together through strong-arm tactics. Ultimately, that government lost its legitimacy among broad sections of Somali society and by the late 1980s found itself in serious trouble. In January 1991, the military government imploded as rival clans jockeyed for position through violent civil war. By November, the most intense fighting broke out in the capital city, Mogadishu. This factional rivalry pitted clan members supporting the interim President Ali Mahdi Mohamed against those supporting General Mohammed Farah Aideed, Chairman of the United Somali Congress. The fighting in Mogadishu quickly spread throughout Somalia. Heavily armed bandits, many of whom were supporters of the various major factions, others seemingly having no real allegiance, took advantage of the anarchy caused by the civil war to seize control of parts of the country, looting and pillaging, controlling the distribution of food, and raping women. Hundreds of thousands of Somalis fled their homes and became either refugees in neighbouring countries or internally displaced persons. Famine swept the land, the consequence of prolonged drought and manmade environmental degradation. The civil war itself was in large measure responsible for the famine, as farmers were unable to tend their fields, and the livestock supplies were depleted. The United Nations estimated that at the time 4.5 million Somalis, roughly half of the population, were threatened with severe malnutrition, malnutrition-related illnesses or death.47 The superpowers must take a large share of the blame for the post-Cold War disintegration of Somalia. During the height of the Cold War period, both the United States and the USSR jockeyed for strategic position in the Horn of Africa. As was their policy in other parts of the Third World, the superpowers did whatever it took to shore up their respective client factions in internally fragmented states. This meant, in most cases, transferring a large cache of arms to friendly regimes in order to maintain a foothold in these countries. This policy, however, became the main source of instability and disorder in fragile states like Somalia, undermining the traditional foundation of order in that society, that is, clan elder’s authority.48

Intervention: lessons learned Television images portrayed not only the horrors of famine and violence in Somalia but also, in some cases, the indiscriminate attacks by lawless Somalis on humanitarian aid workers whose main purpose for being in

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that country was to deliver food, clothing, shelter and other forms of humanitarian assistance throughout Somalia. Clearly something had to be done about the situation if the humanitarian effort was to continue. UN Secretary-General Boutros-Ghali, in contemplating the options, arrived at the conclusion that military force was needed to protect and sustain the flow of humanitarian goods into Somalia. Since the United Nations was in no position to mount an independent enforcement operation to protect the humanitarian aid convoys, it would need help from another source. This came through a UN Security Council contracting-out procedure which allowed the United States to lead an UN Charter, Chapter VII enforcement operation into the theatre of conflict. The critical phrase in the UNSC resolution was that this force would be allowed ‘to use all necessary means’ in establishing ‘as soon as possible a secure environment for humanitarian relief operations in Somalia’.49 This mandate allowed the United States, whose foreign policy interests seem to converge with that of the United Nations (at least at that stage in December 1992) to lead a number of nations in the deployment of the UNITAF operation in Somalia. It also resulted in the expansion of the UNOSOM mandate. Both operations proved disastrous. Space here does not permit a detailed account of the failure. However, it will suffice to enumerate below some of the problems associated with this failed intervention.
Neither the UN nor the Organization of African Unity did a careful eval-

uation of the underlying causes of the civil conflict in Somalia.
Because of the absence of any rapid reaction capability in the UN,
















the organization was not capable of responding, in the early days of the conflict, in a quick and decisive way to end it. The conceptual confusion over some of the entrenched principles in the UN Charter, such as the inviolability of sovereignty, contributed to the tardy response. The United Nations’ decision to become involved in this conflict was further complicated by juxtaposition of two conflicting norms – the desire to adhere to the non-intervention clause of Article 2(7) of the UN Charter and the compelling case for facilitating and protecting humanitarian assistance and upholding UN human rights law. At several points in the UN Security Council deliberations, decisions were made without consulting the various interested parties in Somalia. Thus, the United Nations’ solutions were perceived by most Somalis as externally imposed. The matter of consultation with domestic parties was complicated by the absence of any legitimate government in Somalia. The question of ‘with whom should the United Nations consult’ remained unclear. The UN operation in Somalia did not pay enough attention to the requirements of impartiality. UNOSOM was perceived to be taking sides

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and this caused resentment on the part of some of the factional Somali leaders. The broader question of whether or not the UN can remain impartial in a situation like the one in Somalia is an important one that needs to be addressed.
The UN and US forces misjudged the strength of Aideed. They recognized too late that while the General’s actions were illegitimate in their eyes, he did have some credibility among a fairly large section of the Somali population and should therefore not have been ignored.
The United Nations initially utilized the traditional tool of peacekeeping in a situation that required the use of the non-traditional tool of preventive deployment. Changing the mandate from peacekeeping to peace enforcement did not help to clarify things. In fact, this may have worsened the situation for the United Nations because enforcers do not make good mediators.
Preventive diplomacy was not given a sufficient chance to work early on in the conflict. It may have been a mistake for the Secretary-General to have called for the resignation of UN SG Special Representative in Somalia, Mohamed Sahnoun. Sahnoun’s preventive diplomacy efforts seemed to have been bearing some fruit in the early stages of the conflict.

Recommendations for future UN intervention activity A number of key lessons can be learned by the United Nations from the Somalian experience. In future UN intervention measures, the organization’s decision-makers would be wise to consider the six following points. 1. Make a distinction between peacekeeping and enforcement actions Peacekeepers should maintain impartiality at all times if they are to remain credible. Enforcement actions may not be able to maintain impartiality and therefore should not be carried out by UN forces. The Secretary-General has recently arrived at the conclusion that enforcement action is presently beyond the capacity of the United Nations, except on a very limited scale. The experience of Somalia has demonstrated that there is some value in contracting out enforcement tasks to a group of member states that possess the ability to carry out such functions.50 However, this experience has also taught us that if the contracting parties are too closely intertwined with the UN peacekeepers, warring parties in the theatre of the conflict may be unable to distinguish between the enforcers and the peacekeepers. 2. Develop a UN rapid response capability If the United Nations wants to remain in the business of ‘enforcement’ it would make sense for it to develop a rapid response capability. The majority of conflicts emerging since the end of the Cold War have been interstate conflicts, like the one in Somalia, involving irregular forces and

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resulting in high civilian casualties and inordinate human suffering. Such conflicts may require the insertion of an external force with the capability of acting swiftly and decisively to stop the bloodshed and end the human misery, particularly if the target state is a ‘failed state’. The kind of response needed in such cases would have to be flexible, falling somewhere between peacekeeping and massive enforcement action. An UN Rapid Response unit, which would seek to respond immediately upon evidence of a brewing conflict in order to avert or minimize crisis conditions, could be one such mechanism for dealing with that scenario. However, the establishment of such a unit will not be sufficient. The United Nations would also have to create the necessary institutional capability to ensure rapid reaction. This would include generating sufficient political will, developing strategic goals and contingency plans, establishing operational objectives that would facilitate both strategic and tactical moves. The fundamental components that would underpin a rapid response capability for the United Nations should include the following: (a) an information-gathering and early warning system capable of alerting UN decision-makers of an impending conflict; (b) a rapid decision-making process that takes into consideration contingency plans and military advice; (c) a clearly defined command and control structure for the operation; (d) readily available transportion and communication infrastructure; (e) adequate logistical support and finance to sustain and underwrite the operation; (f ) standardized training of troops, whether or not they are part of a standing or standby arrangement; (g) standardization and inter-operability of equipment.51

3. Place greater emphasis on prevention Underlying much of the discussion in this study is the notion that perhaps a better use of preventive measures would have helped to resolve the Somali conflict. Clearly, the United Nations ought to be spending much more energy and resources on enhancing its preventive measures. A variety of such measures are listed in Chapter VI of the UN Charter, but some are worth repeating here. More focus needs to be given to the type of diplomacy that is used in the early stages of a conflict. So-called ‘soft’ intervention measures through economic, social and humanitarian measures on the ground can be considered as well. So also should preventive deployment be used as a preventive mechanism by the United Nations. However, the effectiveness of preventive actions by the United Nations will hinge upon a full and open discussion on the need to reconceptualize the principle of the inviolability of state sovereignty.

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4. Adopt a subsidiarity model of global governance Chapter VIII of the UN Charter provides the basis for the adoption of a division of labour between regional agencies and arrangements and the UN system. At a time when the UN body is overloaded, undermanned and underfinanced, it is appropriate to consider how regional organizations like the OAU, the LAS and the OIC, as well as private NGOs, can be strengthened so that they could bear a greater share of the security responsibility in their geographical areas. Serious consideration should be given to understanding the role that Islamic organizations have been playing in Somalia and other theatres of conflict. Perhaps some valuable lessons can be learned from their ‘holistic’ approach to addressing underlying causes of conflict. Any subsidiarity arrangement should, however, ensure that the activities of the NGOs and regional governmental groups fall within the terms of the UN Charter and that there will be coordination between the United Nations and these bodies, with the United Nations acting as the lynchpin organization.52 5. Make priorities The United Nations must make some hard judgements about the prioritization of its activities. With the proliferation of conflicts across the globe, it will not be possible for it to be involved in each and every struggle. The immediate priority should be given to cases that involve acute suffering to large numbers of people, particularly in situations where state mechanisms have failed. But the very process of drawing up a priority list may also aid in the devolution of tasks to regional agencies and private organizations. 6. Get UN member governments to pay up assessed contributions or find alternative sources of funding for global security efforts Some UN member state governments have fallen into the habit of withholding assessed contributions to the regular and peacekeeping budgets of the United Nations. This practice must stop if the UN is to be effective in carrying out operations such as the one in Somalia. In the meantime, the organization should explore alternative means of financing global security operations. Many suggestions have been made recently in this regard. Some of the proposals for alternative financing include: charging interest on unpaid assessments; suspending financial regulations so as to allow the United Nations to go into temporary debt; increasing the Working Capital Fund; authorizing the UNSG to borrow commercially; establishing a $1 billion Peace Endowment Fund; imposing levies on international air and sea travel, arms sales, postage and telephone calls, broadcasting advertisement revenues, transnational movement of currencies, international trade, the production of specific (and polluting) materials and on all mineral raw commodities; an annual UN lottery.53

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Conclusions As we have shown, through the use of a structural historical lens, the Somali problem is very complex. Given its complexity, it is important that we offer a number of alternative solutions framed within a long-term strategy for addressing what ails Somalia. The solutions offered in this chapter emerge out of lessons learned and varies from the primary prerequisite of trying to understand the underlying historical and social bases of the conflict to: creating a secure environment for the state-rebuilding process to begin; eliminating the petit-bourgeois fascist tendencies that have come to dominate Somali politics; advancing the notion of power-sharing and nonzero-sum outcomes; indicting warlords for their massive abuses of human rights and crimes against humanity; healing psychological wounds; restoring the dignity and worth of individual citizens; creating a productive economy; rehabilitating the country’s infrastructure and institutions; repatriating refugees and internally displaced persons; establishing positive values in the political and social order; and pursuing with vigour the goals of facilitating national reconciliation by creating a government of national unity, and if necessarily bypassing the recalcitrant warlords. The sum total of these recommendations aims at rebuilding not only the Somali state but also reconstructing and reconstituting its civil society. While the necessary and sufficient conditions for reconstituting the Somali state/society complex are not present at this juncture, there is no reason to believe that they will never exist. The job of scholars and practitioners working in this area should be to suggest or find ways of overcoming obstacles which lie in the path of reconstructing both the Somalian state and the institutions of its civil society. But even if this effort is seen to be fruitless, perhaps analysis of the kind we have offered in this work can provide ‘lessons to be learned’ in dealing with similar situations of ‘failed states’ in the future.

Notes 1. Mohammed Ayoob, ‘The New-Old Disorder in the Third World’, Global Governance, vol. 1 (1995), p. 65. 2. I. William Zartman, ‘Introduction: Posing the Problem of State Collapse’, in I. William Zartman (ed.), Collapsed States: The Disintegration and Restoration of Legitimate Authority (Boulder, Col.: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1995), p. 1. 3. Note the Montevideo Convention of 1933. 4. Sir Richard Burton, First Footsteps in East Africa (London: J. M. Dent, 1910), p. 84. 5. I. M. Lewis, The Modern History of Somaliland: From Nation to State (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1965), p. 5. 6. Ibid., p. 4. 7. I. M. Lewis, ‘Conformity and Contrast in Islam’, I. M. Lewis (ed.), Islam in Tropical Africa (London: Oxford University Press, 1966), p. 56.

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8. 9. 10. 11.

Lewis, The Modern History of Somaliland: From Nation to State, pp. 5–6. Ibid., p. 7. Ibid., p. 14. Hussein M. Adam, ‘Somalia: A Terrible Beauty Being Born?’, in William Zartman (ed.), Collapsed States: The Distintegration and Restoration of Legitimate Authority (Boulder, Col.: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1995), p. 70. Lewis, The Modern History of Somaliland, p. 10. However, this patrilineage system is not at all similar to a caste system. Somali society tends to be very egalitarian (although chauvinistic), and while there are clan chiefs and sultans (Suldans), these positions have traditionally been seen as little more than honorary titles. The jilib consists of a number of families whose alliance is essentially based on the security needs of the family members. Lewis, The Modern History of Somaliland, p. 11. The term diya refers to the payments made in compensation for injury or death. The diya lists amounts of compensation to be paid, and some of the payments can be relatively expensive. For example, 100 female camels is the standard diya to be paid out for the loss of life of a man, and 50 for the loss of life of a woman. The diya-paying group agrees to receive and disburse all diya payments, thus reducing the burden on each individual. Cyril Glasse, The Concise Encyclopedia of Islam (San Francisco: Harper & Row Inc., 1989), p. 101. Lewis, The Modern History of Somaliland, p. 11. As the diya is of Arabic origin, it seems likely that it became enshrined in Somali culture at or around the same time that the Somali people adopted the Islamic religion in the seventh or eighth century. What separates the Somali notion of diya from the traditional Arabic concept, however, is the existence of diyapaying groups; a uniquely Somali tradition. The Somalis have therefore adapted this concept to suit their specific needs. Abdi Ismail Samatar, ‘Destruction of State and Society in Somalia: Beyond the Tribal Convention’, The Journal of Modern African Studies, 30(4) (1992), pp. 630–1. See Adam, ‘Somalia: A Terrible Beauty Being Born?’, pp. 69–78; and John Saul, The State and Revolution in Eastern Africa ( New York: Monthly Review Press, 1979), pp. 391–422. Adam, ‘Somalia: A Terrible Beauty Being Born?’, p. 70. See Lewis, The Modern History of Somaliland, p. 9. Ibid., p. 8. For an elaboration of nomadic self-sufficiency and insights on African pastoralism, see A. M. Khazanov, Nomads and the Outside World (Cambridge: Cambridge University of Press, 1983); I. M. Lewis, ‘The Dynamics of Nomadism: Prospects for Sedentarization and Social Change’, in Theodore Monod (ed.), Pastoralism in Tropical Africa (London: Oxford University Press, 1975); Melville J. Herskovits, ‘The Cattle Complex in East Africa’, American Anthropologist, 28 (1928), pp. 230–72; Hans Hedlund, ‘Contradictions in the Peripheralization of a Pastoralist Society: The Massai’, The Review of African Political Economy, 15/16 (1979), pp. 15–37; and Jeremy Swift, ‘The Development of a Pastoral Economy: The Somali Case’, Jeremy Swift (ed.), Pastoral Production and Society (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979); I. M. Lewis, A Pastoral Democracy: A Study of Pastoralism and Politics Among the Northern Somali of the Horn of Africa (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1961).

12. 13.

14. 15. 16.

17. 18.

19.

20.

21. 22. 23. 24.

Intervention in Somalia 93 25. The frequency of the occurrence of droughts in the twentieth century best illustrates how scarcity has fostered competition in Somalia. Droughts of varying severity occurred in the years 1925, 1926–29, 1933–34, 1938, 1943, 1950–51, 1955, 1959, 1965, 1968–69, 1973, 1983, 1985 and 1988–90. Note, Jeremy Swift, ‘Pastoral Development in Somalia: Cooperatives as a strategy against Desertification and Famine’, Michael H. Glantz (ed.), Desertification: Environmental Degradation in and Around Arid Lands (Boulder, Col.: Westview Press, 1977), pp. 278–9. 26. For a detailed discussion of imperial interests and exploits in Somalia and Eritrea, see Lewis, The Modern History of Somalialand From Nation to State; John Drysdale, The Somali Dispute (London: Pall Mall Press, 1964); Robert L. Hess, Italian Colonialism in Somalia (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1966); G.N. Trevaskis, Eritrea: A Colony in Transition (London: Oxford University Press, 1960). 27. Richard Pankhurst, ‘The Trade of the Gulf of Aden Ports in 19th and Early 20th Century’, Journal of Ethiopian Studies, 3(1) (1965), p. 63. 28. Patrick Kakwenzire, ‘Resistance, Revenue and Development in Northern Somalia, 1905–39’, The International Journal of African Historical Studies, 19(4) (1986), p. 666. 29. For details of the Siyyad’s resistance, see Lewis, A Modern History of Somalia, chapter iv. 30. Ibid., p. 14. 31. These clans had been exposed to cultivation over the centuries. The most important investment in the region inhabited by Digil and Rahanwein clans had been the introduction of bananas, which became the highest revenue earning product during the colonial administration. 32. David D. Laitin and Said S. Samatar, ‘Somali and the World Economy’, Review of African Political Economy, no. 30 (1984), p. 60. 33. Robert L. Hess, Italian Colonialism in Somalia (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1960), p. 175. 34. Ibid. 35. Lewis, The Modern History of Somaliland, p. 122. 36. A. A. Castagno, ‘Somali Republic’, Helen Kitchen (ed.), The Educated African (New York: Frederick A. Praeger, 1962), p. 99. 37. The conditions that had forced the pastoralists to cultivation are debated by the writers of the period. L. V. Casanelli, The Shaping of Somali Society: Reconstructing the History of A Pastoral People, 1600–1900 (Philadelphia: University of Philadelphia, 1982), p. 199; and I. M. Lewis, ‘The Dynamics of Pastoralism: Prospects for Sedentarization’, in J. Monod (ed.), Pastoralism in Tropical Africa (London: Oxford University Press, 1975), p. 437. 38. Lewis, ‘Integration in the Somali Republic’, p. 267. 39. A. A. Castagno, ‘Somali Republic’, in Kitchen (ed.), The Educated African, p. 85. 40. Lewis, The Modern History of Somaliland, p. 128. 41. Saadia Touval, Somali Nationalism: International Politics and the Drive for Unity in the Horn of Africa (New York, 1999), p. 87. 42. Ibid. 43. For a detailed account of the border dispute between Ethiopia and Somalia, see Mesfin Wolde Mariam, ‘The Background of the Ethio-Somalia Boundary Dispute’, The Journal of Modern African Studies, 2(2) (1964), pp. 189–219. See also S. Pierre Petrides, The Boundary Question Between Ethiopia and Somalia: A Legal and Diplomatic Survey with 20 Maps (New Delhi: People’s Publishing House, 1983), pp. 17–21, 21–29, 44–46, 68–70. See also John H. Spencer, Ethiopia

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44. 45. 46. 47. 48.

49. 50. 51. 52.

53.

W. A. Knight and K. Gebremariam at Bay: A Personal Account of the Haile Selassie Years (United States: Reference Publications, Inc., 1984), p. 271. Lewis, The History of Somaliland, pp. 152–3. Touval, Somali Nationalism, p. 110. Ibid., p. 111. United Nations, Department of Public Information, The United Nations and the Situation in Somalia, Reference Paper (1 May 1994) – not an official record, p. 1. Jeffrey Clark, ‘Debacle in Somalia: Failure of the Collective Response’, in Lori Fisler Damrosch (ed.), Enforcing Restraint: Collective Intervention in Internal Conflicts (New York: Council on Foreign Relations Press, 1993), p. 208. UN Security Council Resolution 794 (3 December 1992), adopted unanimously. See Boutros Boutros-Ghali, Supplement to An Agenda for Peace, pp. 18–19. Note that the Canadian government advanced a proposal that would equip the United Nations with such a rapid response capability. See W. Andy Knight, ‘Towards a Subsidiarity Model for Peacemaking and Preventive Diplomacy: Making Chapter VIII of the UN Charter Operational’, Third World Quarterly, 17(1) (March 1996). See the entire issue of Futures: The Journal of Forecasting, Planning and Policy, 27(2) (March 1995); Eleanor Steinberg and Joseph Yager (with G. Brannon), New Means of Financing International Needs (Washington: Brookings Institution, 1978); and Martin Walker, ‘Global Taxation’, World Policy Journal (New York: 1993).

7 International Criminal Law Enforcement Jarat Chopra

Introduction This chapter advocates in the strongest terms the establishment of a mechanism for the enforcement of international criminal law. As alluded to in the previous chapter, the United Nations’ role in this transition towards a postmodern era should be one of addressing underlying causes of conflict. However, this transitional period has produced some of the most appalling crimes against humanity, as demonstrated in Cambodia and El Salvador among other places. Something must be done to combat these most heinous of crimes. The following analysis examines briefly a number of systemic changes and the challenge of dealing with international criminal activity in the cases of Cambodia and El Salvador. It then offers, in light of the establishment of an International Criminal Court (ICC), a number of suggestions for shoring up the international community’s ability to enforce international criminal law. Systemic change and the challenge of international crime The Council of the Club of Rome reported that world society is undergoing a transition so fundamental as to be termed ‘the first global revolution’.1 Individual human beings took tens of thousands of years to pass from the phase of hunting and gathering to the phase of settled farming. The industrial revolution has taken nation-states two centuries to develop and remains incomplete in many places. The current global revolution is shaping a world as different from before as earlier shifts of history achieved – yet as a transition it is incomparably faster and ubiquitous. Janus-faced, it is a period of both deconstruction and reconstruction.2 The factors of change are not only geo-strategic, economic and technological – familiar phenomena to most; they are also social, cultural and ethical. The end of the Cold War and the so-called ‘revolutions’ of 1989 in Eastern Europe, shifts of such significance, appear symptomatic of a deeper trend than ideological success or failure. Political fragmentation is 95

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characterized by the change in the nature of warfare from inter-state to intra-state, by the inability of governments everywhere to govern and respond beyond the status quo, and by the challenge to sovereignty as the organizing principle of the international community.3 Market forces that once served to unify and establish ‘the state’ now threaten its existence as it is pressured by the dual forces of national disintegration and regional cooperation. International interaction is accelerated to a frenzied pitch by advancements in communications and transportation. Electronic means of harnessing vast oceans of information, and the capacity to connect on a daily basis ideas as consequential as the linkage between the printing press and capitalism in the fifteenth century,4 has led to the postindustrial age being termed the ‘information society’. Discoveries in science such as in physics5 and biology6 have altered our perceptions of the physical world. But the human dimension of change is more formidable still. Political disorder and the intensified exposure of peoples to peoples has led to a social awakening and the search for identity and meaning, personally and collectively.7 The readily identifiable language of ‘nationalism’ exploited by ethno-entrepreneurs and expanded concepts of self-determination as rallying calls for unrepresented peoples are both interpretations of the growing pains of this process. Extreme individualism and the collapse of ‘society’, from the family as society to the societies of unitary and federated states, are coupled with a loss of values. True of any crisis, the brightest and darkest intentions of human beings emerge in dramatic forms: the euphoria of high ideals on the one hand and sinister conspiracies on the other. A new seriousness is manifested in the approaches taken by some governments and individuals towards protection for the environment, ensuring respect of human rights, strengthening mechanisms for avoiding or mitigating the consequences of armed conflict, providing humanitarian relief in times of need or fostering a sense of shared interest. Others have taken the opportunity to commit crimes deemed unconscionable by any standard and ensure that volumes are filled with catalogues of horror: imaginative forms of torture; mass campaigns of rape; purposefully induced famines and the denial of food to whole populations; the systematic extermination of peoples as defined ethnically, religiously or ideologically; and the propagation of fear and terror. In the context of global revolution, reform of existing international institutions, such as the United Nations, is essentially inadequate – rearranging the deckchairs on the Titanic, as it were. Even the loftiest and in fact least realistic proposals – an international standing army or federated world government – if realized could not meet the challenges currently posed by international society. This is how far behind scientific, economic and even social innovations of global political organization has fallen.8 International society has not yet had its 1789 or 1917.

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However, it may be possible in this malaise to counter the worst excesses of individuals who violate international criminal laws, which are obligations without exception between each state and individual and the international community as a whole. Criminality An ‘international crime’ is a violation of an obligation to the ‘international community as a whole’. Article 19(2) of the International Law Commission (ILC) Draft Articles on State Responsibility (1980) defines an ‘international crime’ as ‘An internationally wrongful act which results from the breach by a State of an international obligation so essential for the protection of fundamental interests of the international community that its breach is recognized as a crime by that community as a whole.’ However, this would not render a state criminal in the manner that an individual is criminal under municipal law. It only identifies a category of delicts, separate from other wrongs, which ‘are serious enough as to warrant collective sanctions’.9 International crimes are linked to the concepts of jus cogens and international obligations erga omnes.10 An ‘international crime’ can be distinguished from a ‘crime under international law’, which, while possibly similar in content, is committed by individuals and not states and is comparable to a ‘crime’ as understood in municipal law. The ILC Draft Code of Crimes against the Peace and Security of Mankind11 is an attempt to codify this area of law.12 In 1947 the UN General Assembly (UNGA) requested the ILC to prepare a Draft Code based on the Nuremberg Principles.13 In 1996, the ILC adopted a finalized Draft Code of 20 Articles, which it presented to the 51st General Assembly. Disagreement between states focused on the definition and scope of the crimes to be listed. The final text further narrowed this to include: aggression, genocide, crimes against humanity, crimes against UN and associated personnel, and war crimes. The ILC distinguished only aggression from the other crimes enumerated as peculiarly committed by state officials. This affirmed, therefore, personal responsibility for all other criminal categories in the Draft Code. The Draft Code provided significant guidance but was not entirely conclusive with regard to the extent of liability. Article 2(3) considers an individual responsible for a crime against the peace and security of mankind who: (a) intentionally commits such a crime; (b) orders the commission of such a crime which in fact occurs or is attempted; (c) fails to prevent or repress the commission of such a crime in the circumstances set out in Article 6 [on Responsibility of the Superior];

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(d) knowingly aids, abets or otherwise assists, directly and substantially, in the commission of such a crime, including providing the means for its commission; (e) directly participates in planning or conspiring to commit such a crime which in fact occurs; (f) directly and publicly incites another individual to commit such a crime which in fact occurs; and (g) attempts to commit such a crime by taking action commencing the execution of a crime which does not in fact occur because of circumstances independent of his intentions. However, these categories may be difficult to distinguish. It may not be clear in an organization who is making decisions.14 And how ‘direct’ does the incitement to commit the crime have to be for the act to be considered participation and the individual liable to prosecution?15 In particular, while the acts of commission are set out, the extent of individual responsibility for acts of omission seem to be a matter of judgement.16 Certainly, the Draft Code widened the scope of individual responsibility in comparison to its earlier versions, but acts of omission were still easier to ascertain in the context of bureaucratic hierarchies than with regards to private individuals or organizations. The question turns critically on the coverage of subparagraph (c), which clearly pertains to acts of omission on the part of a superior. In the ILC’s commentary on Article 6, a ‘superior’ is understood to be a military commander or civilian authority in a position of responsibility and able to exercise control over subordinates. The provision is not drafted to apply exclusively to a state bureaucracy, and therefore could apply to a non-state armed organization, such as the military arm of a national liberation movement, or the kinds of groups functioning in the former states of Yugoslavia and Rwanda. Similarly, it ought to be applicable to a civilian responsible for a non-governmental organization or the operations of a private corporation, in the manner that it covers an official of a non-recognized state, such as Srpska. Also militarized NGOs, like Executive Outcomes, would fall in this category. The distinguishing feature of Article 6 is its applicability to an organized structure, and not necessarily to a public as opposed to private organization. The Draft Code mitigated somewhat the lack of clarity by restricting defensible arguments: a crime committed ‘pursuant to an order of a Government or a superior’ does not relieve the individual of criminal responsibility (Article 5); ‘The fact that a crime … was committed by a subordinate does not relieve his superiors of criminal responsibility … if they did not take all necessary measures within their power to prevent or repress the crime’ (Article 6); and ‘The official position of an individual …, even if he acted as head of State or Government, does not relieve him of criminal

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responsibility’ (Article 7).17 It also enumerates the acts that constitute each crime (Articles 16–20). Furthermore, the ILC considered admissible defences under Article 14, such as self-defence, duress or coercion, and military necessity. While accepting some and rejecting others, a clear line is not drawn, leaving the final decision to a competent court – whether eventually an ICC, an ad hoc Tribunal, as for former Yugoslavia or Rwanda, or another judicial body established within a specific peace operation.

An international criminal court After several decades of debate, the UN General Assembly, in November 1992, issued a mandate to the ILC to draft a Statute for an International Criminal Court ‘as a matter of priority’. The ILC completed a Draft Statute for an ICC in 1993, and following considerable comments by governments, managed to complete a redraft the following year. The text was finalized following the direct participation of states in an Ad Hoc Committee established for the purpose by the 49th session of the UNGA and a Preparatory Committee established in November 1995. The final report of the Preparatory Committee, with the consolidated text of the Statute, was submitted to the 51st General Assembly and adopted. On 17 July 1998, 147 UN member states signed into force the Statute of the ICC in Rome. Calls for establishing an ICC have accompanied the life of the United Nations. Throughout its history, plans for an international criminal jurisdiction have focused on the important questions of the scope and sources of the law applicable, jurisdictional bases and the organization and procedures of a court. Issues of enforcement have been marginalized. While referred to as critical, the punishment and particularly the apprehension and detention of offenders have been treated only superficially. The establishment of a court and the mechanisms to underwrite it were treated as two separate developments.18 The draft statute devised by the ad hoc committees of 1951 and 1953 relied on a combination of powers of the Court and execution by individual states. Article 40 authorized the Court to issue warrants of arrest to bring the accused before it and Article 31 obliged states to assist the Court in this.19 The assistance of states under Article 31 would also be required to underwrite the powers of the Court under Article 42 to summon witnesses and produce documents and other evidentiary material. There were three proposals for the execution of sentences provided for under Article 52. First, the Statute could impose an obligation on states to execute the sentence. Second, that only states that had assumed by special convention the obligation to execute sentences would do so. Third, in the absence of such a convention, the UN Secretary-General could be requested to make the necessary arrangements. In so doing, the Secretary-General might rely on states directly concerned with the trial, the state where the Court had its

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seat or any third party state. The finalization of the Draft Statute marginalized even further collective enforcement issues. The point of contention during the ILC’s redraft between 1993 and 1994 concerned the crimes over which the Court would have jurisdiction. The work of the Preparatory Committee in 1996 focused on other concerns, including the application of national law as a source of law for the ICC; the principle of complementarity between national and international jurisdiction; state acceptance of the Court’s jurisdiction by ‘opting in’ or ‘opting out’, and the development of ‘trigger mechanisms’ for jurisdiction; the role of the UN Security Council as a ‘trigger’, particularly for the crime of aggression; the powers of the prosecutor, and rejection of an authority to investigate without state consent; the inclusion of provisions for individual and corporate criminal responsibility; judicial assistance by states to the Court; culpability arising from acts of omission, negligence and conspiracy; and recognition by states of the ICC’s judgements. Only one amongst these issues concerned processes for provisional arrest by states of persons accused of serious international crimes. Also, there was minimal discussion of such constitutional issues as punishment. The Statute still does not envisage an independent enforcement capability and relies fundamentally on states.20 However, this much is clear. With the Rome Statute, there is a clear emphasis on the collective system of international prosecution. Also, now that conclusions have been reached on the mechanisms of the Court – the jurisdiction, procedures, structures and so on – attention will now switch to developing independent mechanisms for securing the presence of the accused; obtaining evidence; conducting investigations; and detaining and punishing offenders. Examination of the Cambodian experience, as will be examined below, clearly demonstrates the need for the United Nations to develop standing enforcement capabilities.

Factional Cambodia An international tribunal to prosecute individuals for the auto-genocide that occurred between 1975 and 1979 under Pol Pot’s Democratic Kampuchea (DK), or for various war crimes and crimes against humanity since, has not yet been established. However, one of the most ambitious operations in UN history, the UN Transitional Authority in Cambodia (UNTAC), illustrated the increasing need to develop collective means for apprehending, detaining, prosecuting and punishing criminal individuals. As Sorpong Peou discusses in chapter 11 of this volume, UNTAC had a control mandate over an entire sovereign state.21 It was established22 pursuant to the ‘Agreements on a Comprehensive Political Settlement of the Cambodian Conflict’, signed in Paris on 23 October 1991 by the four warring factions23 and brokered by the five permanent members of the Security Council (Perm-5) – France, China, the United States, Great Britain

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and the former Soviet Union. The UN Secretariat’s plan for implementation of the Agreements,24 effectively the blueprint of the operation, called for seven distinct components: (1) a Human Rights Component to promote and protect human rights; (2) an Electoral Component to organize and conduct free and fair general elections; (3) a Military Component to stabilize the security environment and build confidence among the parties to facilitate free and fair elections through the disarmament and demobilization of at least 70 per cent of each of the factions’ armed forces; (4) a Civil Administration Component to ensure a neutral political environment conducive to free and fair elections through ‘direct control’ of five key areas – foreign affairs, national defence, finance, public security and information; (5) a civilian police (CIVPOL) component to ensure that law and order was maintained effectively; (6) a Repatriation Component to facilitate the return to Cambodia of refugees and displaced persons; and (7) a Rehabilitation Component to restore the country’s basic infrastructure. The operation on paper had extraordinarily wide powers. While sovereignty resided in a Supreme National Council (SNC) composed of representatives of the four factions in Cambodia, the UN Secretary-General’s Special Representative (SRSG), Yasushi Akashi, needed only heed ‘advice’ from the SNC if there was consensus amongst its members, and even then he needed comply only if the advice was consistent with the objectives of the Paris Agreements. Also, the SRSG had exclusive responsibility and could dictate to the SNC in such areas as the electoral process. In practice, however, UNTAC did not have an independent capacity to underwrite its powers. This was particularly apparent in the Human Rights and Civil Administration Components. The human rights mandate was the legacy of excluding from the Agreements, for the sake of achieving a ‘comprehensive’ final settlement which included the Khmer Rouge, any reference to prosecution of offenders. Trials would be left for a newly elected government to carry out if it so wished. On the day the Agreements were signed, US Secretary of State James Baker stated: ‘Cambodia and the US are both signatories to the Genocide Convention and we will support efforts to bring to justice those responsible for the mass murders of the 1970’s if the new Cambodian government chooses to pursue this path.’25 During the operation some UNTAC officials raised the issue internally, but were not supported by others who felt that without a clear mandate no efforts should be made in that direction.26 The process of exclusion occurred gradually. The final communiqué of the first Jakarta Informal Meeting of 28 July 1988 referred to preventing a return to ‘the genocidal policies and practices of the Pol Pot regime’. A UN General Assembly resolution of 3 November 1989 generically noted ‘the universally condemned policies and practices of the recent past’. The February 1990 Australian proposal referred to ‘the human rights abuses of a recent past’. Finally, in August 1990 the Perm-5 developed the formula which eventually

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appeared in the Agreements: ‘the non-return to the policies and practices of the past’. This would be the basic task of the Human Rights Component. The Human Rights Component was active in three main fields: (1) human rights education, training and information specifically for government officials, judicial officers, Khmer police, law students, school teachers and non-governmental organizations, and generally through a publicity campaign for the entire Cambodian population; (2) promotion of adherence to international human rights instruments and review of legal, judicial and penal standards in the light of these instruments; and (3) investigation of human rights complaints and, where appropriate, corrective action. In the event that legislation or conditions of detention were not in conformity with international human rights standards, or if the outcome of investigations warranted corrective measures, the Human Rights Component was to contact ‘the relevant authorities’, including the SNC, and recommend ‘appropriate action’. While Human Rights Officers interpreted their powers widely, they recognized the physical limitations placed on the Component, as the above description of its activities from its publicity brief indicates. The power of the Component was not merely to ‘recommend’. According to the Secretariat’s interpretation of the Agreements, ‘UNTAC would naturally retain the right to order or to take corrective action, as appropriate.’27 The problem rested with the fact that the operation did not have an independent capacity to take corrective action, such as releasing unlawfully detained prisoners or arresting, prosecuting and punishing human rights violators. The Civil Administration Component was similarly flawed. ‘To ensure a neutral political environment conducive to free and fair elections’, the ‘direct control’ referred to in the Paris Agreements28 did not mean that UNTAC would assume all the administrative tasks of the country – as in a governorship operation – but would supervise and judiciously intervene in administrative institutions. UNTAC was given the power to issue binding directives; instal UNTAC personnel in administrative agencies, bodies and offices of existing administrative structures, who would enjoy unrestricted access to all administrative operations and information; and require the reassignment or removal of any personnel of such administrative agencies, bodies and offices. UNTAC Civil Administration did not function as was envisaged. The Component was unable to access, nor was it therefore able to supervise adequately, Cambodian administrative institutions. In particular, it did not have the capacity to underwrite its powers of dismissal. The authority to remove officials from office in the absence of a means to ensure compliance was reduced to a recommendatory power. Reluctance to comply, principally by the State of Cambodia (SOC) which had the most extensive administrative structures in the areas where the United Nations had deployed, forced issues to be handled at senior levels, usually between the SRSG and Prime Minister Hun Sen themselves. This turned an administrative problem into a

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diplomatic negotiation, which would be addressed in the context of the wider political landscape. Like the Human Rights Component, Civil Administration required an independent administrative capacity to remove the offender physically and prosecute if the violation was serious enough. The lacunae between UNTAC’s administrative powers and its enforcement capacity could have been mitigated somewhat by the CIVPOL Component of the operation, but it failed to meet the challenge. UN CIVPOL usually does not maintain law and order independently29 but supervises law enforcement by local police forces. Of policing powers – including reporting, investigation, search, seizure, arrest and detention – CIVPOL conventionally is restricted to reporting,30 or reporting and investigation.31 UNTAC CIVPOL not only had a supervisory function, through reporting on and investigating incidents, but the power of ‘control’.32 This last provision was particularly significant since local police forces, which had become largely politicized institutions with little discipline and weak links to Phnom Penh authority, would be subject to laws drafted by UNTAC.33 This put CIVPOL in a powerful position to challenge abuses of power and direct law and order. In practice, CIVPOL did not even attempt to carry out its ‘control’ tasks.34 Even if CIVPOL had taken full advantage of its available powers, it would still have lacked the manpower and authority to conduct independent policing functions, including the removal of policemen or the arrest of serious offenders. The absence of this capability in UNTAC was not sustainable. As the registration process proceeded through November and December 1992, incidents of politically motivated violence increased and led to 20 deaths. The principal target of the attacks was the National United Front for an Independent, Neutral, Peaceful and Cooperative Cambodia (FUNCINPEC), the royalist party headed by Prince Norodom Ranariddh, son of the SNC Chairman, Prince Norodom Sihanouk. The inability of UNTAC to address adequately the violence led to Sihanouk’s refusal on 4 January 1993 to continue cooperating with UNTAC or SOC. Ranariddh stated on 10 January, ‘We have got no results from UNTAC or investigations of political violence. We know very well … the names of the SOC officials who are behind it.’35 Sihanouk rejoined the peace process following a meeting in Beijing with SRSG Akashi on 8 January, but ‘his threats made it clear to UNTAC that they must institute concrete measures to address the deteriorating situation.’36 On 11 January, Akashi announced the creation of a special prosecutor’s office and court system designed to indict, prosecute, sentence and imprison individuals responsible for political crimes. This would be additional to Akashi’s powers under the Paris Agreements to dismiss officials accused of violence and intimidation. Despite new powers, there was still reliance on local authorities for enforcement and prosecution. Akashi attempted to remove the Governor of Battambang province, Ung Sami, not

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only for his part in attacks against opposition party workers and offices, but for a long history of human rights abuses and corruption in the area. The first arrests took place in January 1993. On 11 January UNTAC apprehended a member of the ruling Cambodian People’s Party (CPP) who was destroying a FUNCINPEC office with an axe. Unfortunately, the suspect was placed in the custody of the SOC police who later released him. An UNTAC spokesman said UN police would try to rearrest the suspect. On 15 January, a SOC policeman, Em Chan, was arrested and formally charged on 21 January with killing a FUNCINPEC party official, Kier Sarath, in the southern port city of Kampot. The hearing, however, was delayed while UNTAC searched for a suitable magistrate.37 The problem was exacerbated by the arrest of a defecting Khmer Rouge guerrilla, Than Teaun, for his part in the December 1992 massacre of 12 ethnic Vietnamese and two Cambodians. A Phnom Penh court refused to hear the case. According to UNTAC officials, SOC wished ‘to avoid setting a precedent in Teaun’s trial which could be used against Em Chan and other government defendants’.38 The government claimed that UNTAC did not follow proper procedures in either case as the incidents occurred outside the jurisdiction of the Phnom Penh court. UNTAC had no independent recourse. Weaknesses of the powers of arrest were also illustrated. On 5 February, FUNCINPEC officials accused the Phnom Penh government of arresting six of its members. One was released, but UNTAC admitted it did not know the whereabouts of the others.39 Warrants were issued for the arrest of seven government soldiers, including a captain, who would be charged with murder, causing injury, illegal confinement and infringement of human rights. On 8 March, a special UN prosecutor accompanied by Malaysian troops failed to make any arrests. SOC–UNTAC confrontations intensified later in March. FUNCINPEC reported that one of its members was tortured to death after being summoned for talks with government authorities at a district office in Kompong Cham. The mutilated body of Hou Leang Bann was found in a sack seven days later. UNTAC questioned suspects and raided two SOC district offices, but made no arrests. Hun Sen was enraged by what he considered abuses by UNTAC in its investigation. In spite of these problems, there were calls for tribunals to be established to prosecute those responsible for the massacres of ethnic Vietnamese, which had plagued the process since its inception. Khmer Rouge guerrillas under the command of the infamous General Ta Mok were suspected of committing the massacre.40 In response, UN officials raised the possibility of genocide trials. ‘In human rights terms these are crimes against humanity and may well be considered acts under the genocide convention,’ said an UNTAC Human Rights Officer. ‘Those responsible for authorizing or who fail to take steps to prevent such acts may well be charged if not for genocidal acts then for complicity in genocidal acts.’41

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The case of the United Nations in Cambodia, despite its extensive shortcomings, included a number of innovations, such as the Human Rights and Civil Administration Components. Their significance rests partly on the attempts to develop an independent, collective capacity for apprehension, detention, prosecution and punishment of individual offenders within a sovereign state. It was recognized amongst UNTAC Human Rights Officers that regardless of the restrictive nature of the UN military force, they could not have started functioning without the overall framework and presence of UNTAC. Nevertheless, the UNTAC experience illustrates most specifically the practical problems associated with international criminal law enforcement.

Repressive El Salvador While not as far-reaching as UNTAC, it is worth comparing the experience in Cambodia to the UN Observer Group in El Salvador (ONUSAL), which faced similar problems. It was established,42 uncharacteristically, prior to a ceasefire and unlike the Human Rights Component in UNTAC, ONUSAL preceded the deployment of a larger military peacekeeping framework. It was authorized to monitor all peace agreements between the El Salvador government and the Frente Farabundo Mart’ para la Liberacion Nacional (FMLN) guerrillas, but had a specific mandate to verify compliance with the San José Accord on Human Rights concluded on 26 July 1990.43 This provided a basic set of minimum standards for human rights to be met by the belligerents and outlined the terms of reference for a UN human rights verification mission. Briefly, the Mission’s mandate was:

(a) to verify the observance of human rights in El Salvador; (b) to receive communications from any individual, group of individuals or body in El Salvador, containing reports of human rights violations; (c) to visit any place or establishment freely and without prior notice; (d) to hold its meetings freely anywhere in the national territory; (e) to interview freely and privately any individual, group of individuals or members of bodies or institutions; (f) to collect by any means it deems appropriate such information as it considers relevant; (g) to make recommendations to the parties on the basis of any conclusions it has reached with respect to cases or situations it may have been called upon to consider; and (h) to offer its support to the judicial authorities of El Salvador in order to help improve the judicial procedures for the protection of human rights and increase respect for the rules of due process of law.

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ONUSAL launched its first phase of operations on 26 July 1991, but despite these wide powers it interpreted its mandate narrowly and relied excessively on local institutions.44 A Police Division was established as part of the enlargement of ONUSAL’s mandate pursuant to the conclusion of peace agreements between the El Salvador government and the FMLN.45 The Police Division was to supervise the maintenance of public order by the National Police (PN), until such time a newly created and integrated National Civil Police (PNC), trained at a newly established National Academy for Police Security, could assume law enforcement functions. To do so UN observers were to be placed in key PN offices around the country and accompany PN patrols on their rounds. This monitoring was meant to prevent acts of intimidation or human rights violations by PN officials. As well, it ‘was to ensure adequate law enforcement in order to generate popular confidence in national reconciliation’.46 Unfortunately, the Police Division interpreted its mandate narrowly and fulfilled its tasks only intermittently. It should have coordinated with the Human Rights Division, but did not, and cooperation was left to the discretion of individual officers. Both its inability to provide security in FMLN zones and its presence at illegal acts of the PN, such as evictions, gave both sides the image that the Police Division was biased. Furthermore, in the absence of an independent capacity for prosecution, ONUSAL was fatally reliant on El Salvador’s judicial system. Judges did not recognize the various agreements and refused to cooperate. ONUSAL officials who did investigate cases were quickly checked by the pervasive criminal justice system. ONUSAL called for complete reform of the judicial system,47 but was unable to allay fears and mistrust amongst the general population of authority and government institutions. Two commissions appointed by the UN Secretary-General had been accepted by the parties in 1991 to purify the armed forces and break the impunity of human rights violators. The Ad Hoc Commission of September 1991 reviewed records of military officers in order to purge those who had committed or tolerated human rights abuses. The Truth Commission was charged under the Mexico City Agreements of 27 April 1991 with investigating serious acts of violence committed since 1980 and ‘whose mark on society demands with great urgency public knowledge of the truth’. Both required the cooperation of the government given the wide range and large number of abuses, lack of information on individual responsibility and short time-frames of operation – three and six months, respectively. Also, the findings could only result in the release of officers from active duty service and not their prosecution. On 15 March 1993, the Truth Commission produced its 800-page report. It had examined 18,000 cases of human rights abuse, 90 per cent of them committed by the army and ‘death squads’ of the security forces. It recommended the dismissal of 40 senior army officers, including the Defence

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Minister, General René Ponce, who in November 1989 ordered the murder of six Jesuit priests, their housekeeper and her daughter. In anticipation of the report, Ponce resigned on 12 March after bitterly attacking the Commission. In response to the recommendations, President Alfredo Cristiani and the Nationalist Republican Alliance (ARENA)-controlled Legislative Assembly passed a broad amnesty law exonerating the accused. This was in spite of the fact that the peace accords had explicitly rejected amnesty as a means towards national reconciliation.48 The question posed by the experience of ONUSAL is whether a multinational operation specifically designated with a law and order mandate could operate independently of a coherently functioning host government or without the larger framework of a peace process. ONUSAL did not have the authority to arrest, detain, prosecute or punish individuals, nor did it utilize fully its quite considerable interventionary powers. The question arises as to what means would be required for a peace operation to carry out such tasks.

Multinational law enforcement Can a collective law and order mechanism that operates independently of the subjective interests of individual states in specific cases, that is organized and controlled by the international community as a whole or in some other joint manner, be developed to enforce international criminal laws through the apprehension, detention, prosecution and punishment of offenders? The establishment of the ICC as a judicial body needs to be connected to the policing experience from the divided environment of Cambodia and the authoritarian conditions of El Salvador. Together, these inchoate fragments for implementing international conventions constitute the basis of criminal law enforcement. Multinational military forces need to be able to provide liaison between the belligerent parties; conduct a multi-party ceasefire; regroup into cantonment areas and disarm combatants; secure and maintain custody of war supplies; and supervise the reconstruction of national and police defence forces. Such operations have a multifunctional composition: a military force and monitors to conduct the disengagement phase of the peace process; election organization and verification teams; advisers on restoration of government functions, environment and mine clearance; assistance in rehabilitation of displaced populations and disarmed fighters; and military assistance and advice in the reconstruction and reorganization of police and defence forces. More specifically, international troops need to assist in the maintenance of law and order; assist in the provision of security prior to, and during, an election; facilitate the transfer of power from the interim authority to an elected government; help to maintain the smooth running of essential services, such as power, water and communications; assist in the planning for, and

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reconstruction of, national defence and police forces; assist in the relocation and rehabilitation of displaced elements of the population; and supervise and assist in the clearance and removal of unexploded ordnance and mines. There are a number of basic requirements if multinational police forces with military assistance are going to conduct successful law and order tasks, and overcome the essential problems of apprehending international criminals in the UN’s area of operations. These are examined below. Apprehension The basic aim of apprehension is to secure custody of the offender. This raises a number of practical difficulties. It may be hard to find offenders. They will probably know the area – whether urban, rural, desert or jungle – better than the newly arrived peace mission, and will be able to hide, move clandestinely and perhaps escape. In this they may be assisted by sympathetic members of the local population, other unknown offenders or armed forces loyal to the accused. Also, local officials may not cooperate for reasons of principle, even if they are opposed to the offender, for they may be against the nature of the UN activities. Furthermore, international forces may inadvertently assist an offender who is disguised as a demobilizing soldier, and who may then be assisted by a UN repatriation or rehabilitation component to relocate within the country or emigrate elsewhere. It may be simply not known who carried out a particular offence and UN investigations may be hampered by of victims’ and witnesses’ fear or ulterior motives of others in the area. Consequently, there may be too many offenders to apprehend all or even most of them. It may be that individuals or political parties known to be guilty of offences are afforded effective immunity through their key role in a peace process. Guilty individuals or criminal organizations may move and act freely because the political cost of apprehending them may jeopardize other UN activities or endanger the personal security of UN officials. The United Nations may be unable to enter certain areas, which are usually strongholds of recalcitrant forces. To mitigate some of these problems, peace operations need to be conducted in a specialized way. To be effective, such a competence would have a number of requirements. Initially, there should be a small permanent headquarters office maintaining a store of expertise and knowledge. A core group of officers from the headquarters supplemented with additional, sufficient manpower could be attached to UN missions as required, although the team would operate with a certain amount of independence and would not be limited by the life of a larger operation. In the field, there must be sufficient personnel, resources and a mandated authority to conduct the full range of conventional policing powers: reporting, investigation, search, seizure, arrest and detention. The inclusion of such capabilities in peace operations, ideally should be authorized by a competent UN body (for example, through a UNSC

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resolution). However, it is also true that a standing mandate and universal jurisdiction exist under international criminal law generally. Additional instructions in any UN decision should be clear and comprehensive, though not so precise as to limit the flexibility or diminish the effectiveness of the mission. In the field, a law and order capability, including civilian police and specialized military units, would be operationally responsible to the peace operations executive. In this manner, unity of command can ensure coordination with military, police, human rights and civil administration components of the mission. As well, cooperation with and assistance from local police and military forces should be sought at all times, but not relied upon exclusively. While UN law and order officials may have policing, military, legal or criminal investigative backgrounds, they must be further trained in international service and the peculiarities of international criminal apprehension. For instance, police officers will be operating as part of an international institution and must be prepared to challenge local authority and domestic laws, contrary to their conventional training, and they must be prepared to operate in unfamiliar environments where they may not be able to rely on knowledge of the language. Also, they must have a strong and rapid capability for information collection and analysis. This will require effective means of acquiring information – including rapid movement to sites of crimes, inspection of relevant areas, interviewing witnesses and transmitting data to field headquarters – as well as advanced means of recording evidence. This should be supported by a well-developed research capability at the mission’s overall headquarters, with which deployed personnel should have an independent, continuous communications link. Determining who should be apprehended may be pursuant to a warrant of arrest issued by an ICC, an ad hoc tribunal established for the area or a judicial mechanism of the peace operation. As well, field officials should be authorized to apprehend individuals on the basis of reasonable suspicion of guilt. This will require a functional set of criteria of guilt by which to operate. Apprehension of offenders following the conclusion of a specific operation will have to be pursued by the local authority, or jointly – depending upon the status of a law enforcement office in situ. In any of their activities, multinational headquarters or field officials should solicit the assistance of national security services or cooperative bodies, such as Interpol or the European TREVI.49 Detention By far less complicated, the aim of detention is to hold in custody an accused individual until a system of prosecution has been completed and a sentence passed. Facilities for this purpose will have to be located within daily commuting distance of the place of prosecution. Now that an ICC is

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created, it will be important to have a permanent, fixed location next to the court for an international criminal detention centre. The bulk of the resources for a detention facility should be provided by the territorial host state where the Court is established or tribunal is sitting, but the facility should be controlled by the United Nations. ‘Control’ in this sense means the power to direct the overall process of detention while the host state physically administers the premises. To ensure that prisoners are treated equally, that international minimum standards of detention are guaranteed, and to verify that the host state fulfils its obligation of detention, strict supervision will be required, particularly if the facility is located in the place where the crime was committed. Punishment The aim of punishment is to execute a sentence passed by an ICC, an international tribunal or judicial body of a peace operation. The value of punishment is not to exact retribution; given the gravity of the offences there is unlikely to be a punishment to fit the crime. Rather, punishment should be conceived as a means to affirm the unacceptability of the offences and to create confidence in a local population as well as the international community that offenders will be tried.

Conclusion At the beginning of the twenty-first century it seems difficult to conceive how we can continue to witness scenes of ferocious barbarism and primitive behaviour that we associate with earlier times. Yet, tragically, they are scenes that have been constantly witnessed throughout all times, and primitive barbarism seems all too human too often. But if there is a crime beyond these crimes, it is the failure to expend ‘all necessary means’ to counter the worst excesses of international crimes, the failure of parts of the international community to fulfil its obligations towards the community as a whole. Establishing collective mechanisms to enforce international criminal law is one of the developments necessary for international society, as it was for national society. There is a window of opportunity, through the evolution of peace operations, to devise means of apprehending, detaining, prosecuting and punishing offenders.

Notes 1. Alexander King and Bertrand Schneider, The First Global Revolution: A Report by the Council of the Club of Rome (New York: Pantheon Books, 1991). 2. Note Jarat Chopra, ‘Peace-Maintenance: The Last Stage of Development’, Global Society, vol. 11, no. 2 (June 1997). 3. See further Jarat Chopra and Thomas G. Weiss, ‘Sovereignty is no longer Sacrosanct: Codifying Humanitarian Intervention’, Ethics and International Affairs,

International Criminal Law Enforcement 111 vol. 6 (1992), pp. 95–117; and Jarat Chopra, ‘The Obsolescence of Intervention Under International Law’, in Marianne Heiberg (ed.), Subduing Sovereignty: Sovereignty and the Right to Intervene (London: Pinter Publishers, 1994), pp. 33–61; and ‘Some Puzzles of International Society’, Cambridge Review of International Affairs, vol. X, no. 2 (Winter–Spring 1997), pp. 23–39. 4. See, for instance, Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities (London: Verso, 1991), pp. 33–6. 5. Stephen W. Hawking, A Brief History of Time: From the Big Bang to Black Holes (London: Bantam Press, 1988). 6. Ernst Mayr, Toward a New Philosophy of Biology: Observations of an Evolutionist (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1988). 7. See further Charles Taylor, Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1989); Philip Allott, Eunomia: New Order for a New World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990). 8. Note Jarat Chopra, ‘The Space of Peace-Maintenance’, Political Geography, vol. 15, no. 3/4 (March/April 1996), pp. 335–57; and the debate on peace maintenance in Security Dialogue, 28 (June 1997), pp. 177–89. 9. Lyal S. Sunga, Individual Responsibility in International Law for Serious Human Rights Violations (Dordrecht: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers, 1992), p. 128. 10. Barcelona Traction, Light and Power Co. Ltd. Case. I.C.J. Reports 1970, para. 33. 11. Hereafter referred to as the ‘Draft Code’. 12. Timothy L. H. McCormack and Gerry J. Simpson, ‘The International Law Commission’s Draft Code of Crimes against the Peace and Security of Mankind: An Appraisal of the Substantive Provisions’, Criminal Law Forum, vol. 5, no. 1 (1994), pp. 1–55. 13. UNGA Res. 177 (II) of 21 November 1947. 14. Note the distinction made between ‘command’ and ‘staff’ in the German Army. Telford Taylor, The Anatomy of the Nuremberg Trials (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1992), pp. 105–7. 15. Note ‘Draft Report of the International Law Commission on the work of its forty-third session’, UN Doc. A/CN.4/L.464/Add.4 (1991), paragraph (4) of Commentary on Article 3. 16. On the persisting problems associated with ‘command responsibility’, see the Bulletin of the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia, No. 15/16, 10-III-1997, pp. 2–3. 17. See ‘International Law Commission Report on the Formulation of Nüremberg Principles’, UN Doc. A/CN.4/22 of 12 April 1950. 18. UN Doc. A/362 of 25 August 1947: Appendix I, Articles 2(1), 28 and 37(1); Appendix II, Articles 2(1), 22 and 31(1). 19. Commentary, UN Doc. A/2136, paras. 104–9. 20. See further, W. Andy Knight, ‘Legal Issues’, in John Tessitore and Susan Woolfson (eds.), A Global Agenda: Issues Before the 51st General Assembly of the United Nations (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 1996), pp. 262–5 and 268–82. 21. For a full interim analysis, see Jarat Chopra, John Mackinlay and Larry Minear, Report on the Cambodian Peace Process (Oslo: Norwegian Institute of International Affairs, 1993). 22. UNSC Res. 717 of 16 October 1991 established UNTAC. UNSC Res. 718 of 31 October 1991 fully supported the Paris Agreements and requested the UN Secretary-General to submit a report on their implementation. UNSC Res. 745 of 28 February 1992 approved the UN Secretariat’s blueprint in S/23613.

112 Jarat Chopra 23. Each faction represented a regime that had at one time controlled Phnom Penh: State of Cambodia (SOC); Democratic Kampuchea or the Khmer Rouge; Armeé Nationale Sihanoukiste (ANS); and Khmer People’s National Liberation Front (KPNLF). 24. United Nations, ‘Report of the Secretary-General on Cambodia’, UN Doc. S/23613 of 19 February 1992. 25. New York Times, 24 October 1991. 26. Personal interviews with UNTAC Civil Administration and Human Rights officials, Phnom Penh, November 1992. 27. S/23613, para. 19. 28. ‘Agreement on A Comprehensive Political Settlement of the Cambodian Conflict’, Article 6; ‘Annex 1: UNTAC Mandate’, Section B. 29. Exceptions include the UN Operation in the Congo (ONUC) 1960–1964 and the UN Mission for the Referendum in Western Sahara (MINURSO) 1991–present. 30. The UN Transition Assistance Group (UNTAG) in Namibia 1989–1990. 31. The UN Peace-keeping Force in Cyprus (UNFICYP) 1964–present. 32. ‘Annex 1: UNTAC Mandate’, Article 5; S/23613, paras. 112–27. 33. Note S/23613, para. 126; in particular, ‘Provisions Relating to the Judiciary and Criminal Law and Procedure Applicable in Cambodia During the Transitional Period’, 10 September 1992. 34. ‘Civilian Police Component’, UNTAC Spokesman’s Office, 13 November 1992. 35. Far Eastern Economic Review (21 January 1993), p. 12. 36. Ibid. 37. Ibid. 38. Indochina Digest, 5 February 1993. 39. Ibid. 40. Indochina Digest, 12 March 1993. 41. Indochina Digest, 2 April 1993. 42. UNSC Res. 693 of 20 May 1991 approved the ‘Report of the Secretary-General’, UN Doc. S/22494 of 16 April 1991. 43. UN Doc. A/44/971, S/21541 of 16 August 1990, Annex. 44. ‘First Report of the Director of the Human Rights Division’, Annex to ‘Note by the Secretary-General’, UN Doc. S/23037 of 16 September 1991, pp. 11–12. 45. UNSC Res. 729 of 14 January 1992. 46. Stephen Baranyi and Liisa North, Stretching the Limits of the Possible: United Nations Peacekeeping in Central America (Aurora Papers 15) (Ottawa: Canadian Centre for Global Security, 1992), p. 30. 47. ‘Fourth Report of the Director of the Human Rights Division’, UN Doc. A/46/935, S/24006 of 5 June 1992, pp. 14–15. 48. The Economist, 20 March 1993; The Christian Science Monitor, 25 March 1993 and 13 April 1993. 49. See further the cooperative developments between national police services described by Ethan A. Nadelman, such as in Cops across Borders: The Internationalization of U.S. Criminal Law Enforcement (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1993).

Part III Cases

8 UN Fact-Finding in a Postmodern World: Potential for Arms Limitation and Confidence-Building Andrew A. Latham

Introduction The purpose of this chapter is twofold: to provide an overview of the history and defining characteristics of the ‘fact-finding’ mechanism developed by the UN Secretary-General (UNSG) to investigate allegations of chemical weapons use during the 1980s and early 1990s; and to identify practical ways in which the fact-finding mechanism might be adapted to the verification challenges of an increasingly postmodern global security order. The chapter begins with a discussion of the historical evolution of the UNSG fact-finding mechanism during the Cold War, and then proceeds to develop the following propositions:
Although it evolved in a very specific historical, technical and political

context, the UNSG fact-finding mechanism can be adapted to meet a wide range of verification needs in the evolving postmodern global security order.
Given the structural and procedural nature of the fact-finding mechanism, it is most likely to be successfully employed when certain specific conditions exist.
Potential future applications of the fact-finding mechanism include monitoring and verification of non-proliferation, arms control and disarmament (NACD) agreements; verification of micro-disarmament and peacemaking arrangements; and fact-finding as a confidence-building measure.

UNSG fact-finding in the context of the 1925 Geneva Protocol For most of the twentieth century the 1925 Geneva Protocol was the principal international agreement prohibiting wartime use of asphyxiating, poisonous or other gases, as well as bacteriological weapons. While a noble effort, 115

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the Protocol was flawed in once crucial respect: it contained no provision for verification, compliance monitoring or investigation of alleged ‘grave breaches’ of its proscription against chemical warfare. For a variety of reasons, this was not considered problematic in the decades following the entry-into-force of the Protocol. But by the 1970s, allegations of chemical weapons use began to be heard with increasing frequency. The possibility that the Protocol and its underpinning prohibitionary norm were being violated caused considerable concern in the international community, and led many within the United Nations to conclude that if the ban on chemical warfare was to be preserved, some sort of mechanism would have to be developed for investigating these allegations. The result was a series of negotiations in the late 1970s intended to create just such a mechanism. As a result of these negotiations, on 12 December 1980 the UN General Assembly (UNGA) adopted Resolution 35/144 C, which called on the Secretary-General to investigate, with the assistance of independent experts, alleged violations of the 1925 Geneva Protocol in South-East Asia and Afghanistan.1 While the investigations conducted pursuant to this resolution were inconclusive, the resolution itself was significant in that it authorized the creation of a new UNSG fact-finding procedure that would be used periodically throughout the 1980s and early 1990s to investigate allegations of chemical warfare. This procedure – which remained essentially unchanged until the mechanism fell into disuse in the mid-1990s – worked in the following way. First, a UNSG investigation would be triggered by an allegation made by one or more member states that chemical weapons had been used. Because of the possibility of frivolous or unfounded allegations, as well as the potential for other abuse, all allegations had to pass through a ‘screening’ mechanism to determine whether there existed a prima facie case for initiating an investigation. This screening process involved requiring a complaining State to submit a formal report containing the particulars of the allegation. This report then served as the basis for a sort of ‘preliminary inquiry’, at the end of which the UNSG would decide whether the arguments presented warranted further investigation. Such reports typically contained information regarding:
the location of alleged illegal use of chemical and/or bacteriological

weapons;
the circumstances in which these weapons were used illegally; and
the effects of these weapons on human life, flora and fauna.

In addition to the weight of the arguments put forward by the complaining state, the decision to proceed with an investigation would also be conditioned by certain circumstantial considerations. These included factors such as the length of time since the alleged use of proscribed weapons, the

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degree of access within the state under investigation likely to be afforded the mission, and the safety of fact-finders. If the initial report was ambiguous or unclear and additional information was required, the UNSG could consult with the complaining state, as well as other states (and NGOs) that may have had relevant information. Once the Secretary-General was satisfied that this preliminary inquiry had been completed – and taking into account the weight of the arguments in the report, supplementary information collected through consultations, the advice of expert consultants, and the circumstantial considerations listed above – the UNSG then decided whether to initiate a full-blown investigation. If the facts warranted further investigation, the UNSG would assemble a fact-finding mission comprising: (a) 5–7 qualified experts who were respected for their integrity, impartiality, competence and objectivity, and (b) 2–3 members of the UN Secretariat to provide technical and/or administrative support. He would then despatch the team, making every effort to ensure that they would be on site within 48 hours. As long as a state agreed to receive a UNSG fact-finding mission, it was required to take steps to ensure the safety and freedom of the team members. They also agreed to afford adequate freedom of method, programme and movement to the fact-finding mission. Once on site, team members carried out a variety of investigative tasks, including interviewing victims, witnesses, representatives of NGOs, medical personnel, soldiers and government officials; collecting forensic evidence; and collecting chemical samples. Fact-finding teams were typically accompanied by an observer assigned by the receiving state, who facilitated the team’s activities and ensured that it did not exceed its authority. Upon completion of an investigation, the fact-finding team was required to submit a report to the UNSG. This report was detailed, describing not only the findings but also the investigative methods employed. It also included joint conclusions, as well as minority/dissenting views, regarding the extent to which the team believed the allegations of chemical and biological warfare to have been proven. In 1982, against the backdrop of continuing allegations that the 1925 Protocol was being violated, the UNGA adopted another resolution (37/98 D) intended to institutionalize further the UNSG’s investigative capacities with respect to allegations of chemical warfare. This resolution conferred specific fact-finding responsibilities on the UNSG, and called on him to develop technical guidelines and investigative procedures necessary for the timely and effective discharge of these responsibilities. Resolution 37/98 D, however, was highly controversial and provoked considerable opposition from several member states. As a result, when information was brought before the Secretary-General in 1983 alleging chemical weapons use by Iraq, the ensuing investigation was conducted on the basis of UNSG’s Article 99 powers and Security Council Resolution 540 of 21 October 1983

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(which called on the Secretary-General to continue his mediation efforts), rather than the UNGA resolution of 1982. The UNSG fact-finding mechanism was developed further during the mid1980s when several investigative missions were dispatched to the Iran–Iraq war zone. These missions concluded that chemical agents had been used by both sides in violation of their obligations under the Geneva Protocol. But despite the fact that these investigations had taken place, questions concerning the legal authority of the UNSG to conduct fact-finding in the context of the 1925 Protocol remained unresolved. These legal questions provided the impetus for further deliberations on the subject within the General Assembly, the result of which was that in November of 1987 the General Assembly adopted (by consensus) Resolution 42/37. This resolution clearly and unambiguously mandated the UNSG to investigate alleged violations of the 1925 Protocol. Also, during this period, a number of efforts were made to strengthen the UNSG’s institutional capacities to organize on fact-finding missions. Because of the time-sensitive nature of the physical evidence, the effectiveness of investigations regarding non-compliance with the 1925 Geneva Protocol was highly dependent on the UNSG’s ability to organize and despatch factfinding missions relatively expeditiously. In this respect, the fact-finding missions of the early 1980s were far from exemplary. Taking nearly a year to organize, these missions were seriously hampered by the degradation of the evidence that occurred between the alleged attacks and the time of the investigation. During the mid-1980s, however, steps were taken to improve and facilitate the operations of fact-finding teams. These included:






establishing clear criteria for deciding whether to launch an investigation; establishing rosters of qualified experts; establishing standard operating procedures; pre-arranging transport for the mission to the site of alleged violation; pre-arranging for the transport of forensic evidence to laboratory facilities; and
pre-arranging laboratory facilities. Once these improvements were made, the timeliness of UNSG investigations improved dramatically. It should be noted, however, that even though these improvements were made, Secretary-General investigations were still often undermined by the failure of states to register their initial complaint in a timely manner. Such recalcitrance appears to have been responsible for the ambiguous findings of the UNSG’s fact-finding mission to Mozambique in the early 1990s.2 During the 1990s, there were several further investigations of alleged violations of the 1925 Protocol, including Mozambique and Azerbaijan in 1992, former Yugoslavia in 1993, and former Yugoslavia and Cambodia in 1994.3 For a variety of reasons, the findings of all these

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investigations were inconclusive, ambiguous or contestable.4 UNSG factfinding in the context of the 1925 Geneva Protocol ended in the mid-1990s as the Chemical Weapons Convention (CWC) became the principal international treaty governing chemical weapons and its verification organ Organization for the Prevention on Chemical Warfare (OPCW) became the sole authority responsible for monitoring compliance and investigating allegations of chemical warfare.

UNSG fact-finding in a postmodern global security order Rooted in both specific UN resolutions and the (implied) Article 99 powers, the basic purpose of the UNSG fact-finding mechanism was threefold. First, it was intended to instil confidence that states were meeting their obligations with respect to the Protocol, that is, that they were not using chemical or biological methods of warfare. Second, it was intended to discourage non-compliance. The logic in this connection was that potential violators would be deterred from using chemical and biological weapons if they had foreknowledge that verification measures would generate clear evidence of non-compliance. Finally, it was intended to reinforce the international norm prohibiting the use of chemical and biological weapons. In this connection, fact-finding was viewed by some observers, not simply as a means of determining whether a party was complying with its obligations but also, as an occasion for members of the international community to indicate their continuing commitment to the prohibitionary norm. Ironically, even in circumstances where ‘effective’ on-site verification was not possible, it was believed that the invocation of the UNSG fact-finding mechanism would have beneficial effects in that it would provide a context within which ‘disciplinary mechanisms’ could be brought to bear in ways that would reaffirm the prohibitionary norms codified in the Protocol. Measured against these criteria, UNSG investigations of alleged violations of the 1925 Protocol must be judged a mixed success. To be sure, under certain conditions UNSG fact-finding missions were able to establish with reasonable certainty the facts related to allegations of chemical and biological warfare. As a result, the mechanism generally worked – especially when allegations were made in a timely way, and fact-finders were able to conduct investigations expeditiously. In a number of cases, however, the intrinsic difficulties associated with investigating chemical weapons use, the lag between alleged use and the triggering of an investigation, and lack of cooperation on the part of the alleged violator meant that fact-finders were only able to report ambiguous, inconclusive or contestable findings. Perhaps not surprisingly, these failures to deliver clear findings undermined the effectiveness of the UNSG fact-finding mechanism with respect to both assurance and deterrence. On balance, however, it is clear that the

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fact-finding mechanism proved itself to be a relatively effective means of investigating allegations of chemical weapons use. Judged on slightly different terms, the success of the UNSG fact-finding process was far less ambiguous. In addition to its ability to assure compliance and deter non-compliance with the 1925 Protocol, the UNSG factfinding mechanism must also be evaluated in terms of its broader contribution to international peace and security. In this respect, it is clear that UNSG investigations have played an important role in reinforcing the prohibitionary norm against the use of chemical and biological weapons. In the late twentieth century, such weapons remained an especially politicized and stigmatized category of armaments, despite periodic breaches of the Protocol. This happened not because they are somehow intrinsically more cruel or ‘inhumane’ than other weapons. Rather, it is the outcome of concerted and persistent efforts on the part of diplomats and political leaders to cultivate a widespread moral revulsion against a particular instrument of mass destruction. The fact that in recent years even the possibility of a rupture of this prohibitive norm has triggered practical affirmations of its continuing importance – in the form of UNSG investigations and associated UNGA and UNSC resolutions – has contributed significantly to the effectiveness of the chemical and biological weapons ‘taboo’. In itself, this must be considered an important contribution to international peace and security. Whatever the specific strengths and weaknesses of the UNSG fact-finding mechanism as a means of verifying compliance with the 1925 Protocol, by the mid-1990s developments – especially the signing of the CWC and the creation of the Organization for the Prevention of Chemical Warfare (OPCW) – had rendered it superfluous. But the experiences of the 1980s and 1990s had created within the United Nations a significant institutional capacity for fact-finding with respect to NACD. For those interested in promoting human security, the task at hand now is to determine how that mechanism might be adapted to the verification requirements of an increasingly postmodern global security order. Applying the mechanism: some general considerations The experiences of the 1980s and 1990s suggest that the UNSG fact-finding mechanism constitutes a flexible, multipurpose investigatory instrument that can be adapted to a variety of verification tasks, including confirming or demonstrating non-compliance, establishing or demonstrating compliance, clarifying ambiguities relating to compliance, and enhancing transparency. Indeed, in principle at least, the flexibility of the UNSG fact-finding mechanism seems limited only by (a) the nature of the UNSG’s overall fact-finding mandate, (b) the specific mandating resolutions adopted by the UNGA and UNSC, and (c) the degree to which the receiving state is willing to cooperate with the fact-finding mission. This means that

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although the mechanism evolved in the context of the 1925 Geneva Protocol, it is conceivable that as we enter the postmodern era UNSG factfinding missions could be employed with increasing frequency to carry out a much broader range of verification and confidence-building tasks. This being said, however, the specific characteristics of the mechanism mean that it is most likely to be applicable and/or desirable only in those NACD situations where a number of very specific conditions exist. Based on the practical experiences of the 1980s and 1990s, these conditions could include the following. There is a commitment to cooperative verification Unlike certain verification measures implemented in connection with postconflict peace enforcement, UNSG fact-finding is a cooperative verification measure. Under the terms of the UN Charter, such missions require the cooperation of the receiving state – the Secretary-General cannot compel states to receive a fact-finding mission. Thus, the UNSG mechanism can only be effective when the receiving state is willing to cooperate with the fact-finding team. This suggests that UNSG fact-finding will be most effective in circumstances where parties are basically committed to honouring their obligations, where the need to protect military secrets from potential enemies is low, and where concerns regarding sovereignty are insufficient to generate resistance to agreed multilateral verification missions. It also suggests that the UNSG fact-finding mechanism will probably not prove to be an effective instrument of verification in those situations characterized by adversarial relations (either between parties to a dispute or between the UN and the party alleged to be in non-compliance with its obligation). Long-term, continuous monitoring is not required One of the defining characteristics of the UNSG fact-finding mechanism is that it is based on the use of ad hoc, short-term fact-finding missions – UNSG fact-finding missions are assembled on a case-by-case basis to investigate specific allegations of non-compliance. Among other things, the use of short-term missions means that UNSG fact-finding is poorly suited to long-term or continuous monitoring of compliance with an obligation (such as an arms embargo). This, of course, is not to suggest that the UNSG could not investigate specific allegations of non-compliance; nor is it to suggest that the UNSG could not ‘routinely’ (that is, at regular intervals) deploy a short-term fact-finding mission to inspect a specific site or monitor a specific activity. Indeed, such routine inspections would require nothing more than a mandating resolution and the agreement of the parties concerned. It is, however, to argue that ‘standing’, ‘long-term’ or ‘permanent’ verification missions are not consistent with the basic character of the UNSG fact-finding mechanism.

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The objective of verification is to verify the accuracy of declared information Given that it is premised on a relatively high degree of cooperation between the fact-finding mission and the receiving state, the UNSG factfinding mechanism can only be expected to provide generally high levels of assurance in respect of the verification of declared activities, sites and facilities. Simply stated, because UNSG fact-finding missions require the consent of the receiving state to carry out their investigations, and because they are governed by strict covering agreements, it is unlikely that factfinding missions will be able to detect undeclared activities. It should be noted that verifying the accuracy of declared information regarding an obligation may not always be sufficient to determine compliance. Attention also has to be paid to detecting the existence of undeclared activities and facilities. Granting fact-finding missions maximal freedom to gather information may help in this respect, but it will not give an absolute guarantee of compliance with an obligation. Thus UNSG fact-finding missions are likely to be most effective where they are given the task of verifying the accuracy of declared information regarding an obligation. Third party involvement is desired or necessary Although perhaps obvious, it is worth underscoring the fact that UNSG fact-finding missions are carried out by people from states not directly party to a dispute. Historical experience suggests that such ‘third party’ verification may be the only acceptable form of compliance monitoring in certain contexts, particularly those where the level of hostility among the parties is high.5 To the extent that this is true, UNSG fact-finding may be the only means of verifying effectively NACD obligations and/or confidence-building measures in those contexts where: (a) levels of trust and confidence between the parties are low; (b) parties lack the national technical or intelligence means required for effective verification; or (c) the UN itself has an interest in verifying an obligation. Other means of verifying an obligation are non-existent or underdeveloped The case of the 1925 Geneva Protocol suggests that UNSG fact-finding can be an effective means of verifying obligations when none is explicitly provided for in formal agreements. It also suggests that the mechanism may be an effective verification instrument where existing verification arrangements are inadequate, underdeveloped or moribund, or in circumstances where more institutionalized or legalistic verification measures cannot be agreed upon. In these circumstances, the UNSG fact-finding mechanism could provide a ready-made and cost-effective verification instrument capable of providing some minimal level of compliance monitoring. Such a mechanism could be included as an NACD agreement is being negotiated, or it could be ‘plugged in’ to existing agreements as the evolution of a less

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confrontational and more cooperative international environment creates the conditions in which verification becomes more acceptable. UNSG factfinding might also prove effective where the obligation to be verified is ‘informal’ or voluntary (such as those associated with membership in supplier regimes such as the Missile Technology Control Regime). Cost is an important consideration Because states are increasingly unwilling to accept costly verification procedures (such as those for the CWC), a recurrent theme in recent years is the need to ensure cost-effectiveness in verification implementation. Where such cost considerations are important, UNSG fact-finding may become an increasingly attractive alternative to more formalized (and expensive) procedures. The ad hoc nature of the UNSG fact-finding mechanism means that costs associated with large permanent staffs, physical plant, for example, are not incurred. As a result, the UNSG fact-finding mechanism is far less expensive than more elaborate institutional mechanisms such as the Office for the Prevention of Chemical Weapons (OPCW). The small size and short duration of specific missions also help to minimize costs, as does the use of members of the UN Secretariat to provide technical and administrative support. Direct costs can be further minimized if UN member states provide air and ground transport, accommodation, laboratory facilities, and so on. The purpose of an investigation is fact-finding and reporting The practical purpose of UNSG fact-finding during the 1980s and 1990s was to determine the facts as they pertained to specific allegations of noncompliance with an obligation. While UNSG fact-finding missions related to the 1925 Protocol typically provided an evaluation of the facts (extent and harmfulness of use of proscribed weapons, and so on), they did not render binding legal or political judgements. Instead, they simply reported their findings to the parties involved: the UNSG, the UNGA or the UNSC. This strongly suggests that future UNSG fact-finding will be most effective in those contexts where legally or politically binding determinations of compliance or non-compliance are not required.

UNSG fact-finding in a postmodern global security order As the transition to a postmodern world order accelerates, and as efforts to adapt the institutions of global governance to meet the challenges associated with that transition bear fruit, it is likely that the United Nations will assume an increasing number of responsibilities related to verification of obligations in the realm of international peace and security, including verification in the context of non-proliferation, arms control and disarmament; verification in the context of confidence-building; verification in the

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context of conflict management; and verification under UN Security Council mandates (that is, in the context of peace and security operations and sanctions enforcement).6 This section of the chapter seeks to identify ways in which the UNSG verification role could be further enhanced through the use of fact-finding missions to verify declared information regarding obligations related to NACD agreements, micro-disarmament, confidence-building and unilateral measures. The following discussion of potential applications of the UNSG fact-finding mechanism in a postmodern global security order is representative rather than exhaustive. Monitoring and verification of NACD agreements The direct role of the UNSG with respect to NACD verification to date has been limited to investigating allegations of non-compliance with the 1925 Geneva Protocol. In the future, however, the UNSG could provide fact-finding teams which would verify declared information regarding a range of NACD obligations. In principle, fact-finding missions could be deployed at the request of the parties subject to an obligation, on the authority of the UNSG, at the request of the international community (as expressed through a UNGA or UNSC resolution) or on a routine basis (as agreed by the parties subject to the obligation). The goal of such missions would be to collect, collate and analyse information relevant to a NACD obligation, and to report its findings either to the parties involved or to the UNSG. One recent development in this regard has been the incorporation of UNSG fact-finding procedures into the Ottawa Treaty banning the production, stockpiling, transfer and use of anti-personnel landmines. Article 8 of the treaty (‘Facilitation and Clarification of Compliance’) establishes that the States Party to the Treaty may call upon the UNSG to authorize a factfinding mission in order to clarify questions of compliance. Reflecting the lessons learned during the 1980s and 1990s, the Treaty also authorizes the UNSG to prepare and update a roster of qualified experts; specifies the basic modalities of the fact-finding process; and stipulates that the purpose of fact-finding is to gather information and report findings to the states parties via the Secretary-General. Interestingly, the language of the Article 8 provisions closely resembles that found in the fact-finding provisions of the UNSC and UNGA resolutions authorizing fact-finding in the context of the 1925 Protocol. Indeed, it is quite clear that the negotiators of the treaty – unwilling or unable to agree to more ‘intrusive’ or institutionalized verification measures – explicitly modelled the treaty’s compliance monitoring mechanism on the procedures developed to verify the 1925 Protocol. The inclusion of UNSG fact-finding in the Ottawa Treaty is significant in at least two respects. First, the Article 8 provisions clearly demonstrate that the UNSG fact-finding mechanism has applications beyond the 1925 Protocol. That a mechanism first developed to verify compliance with a chemical weapons treaty in the context of the Cold War has now been

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adapted to meet the ‘compliance clarification’ requirements of a post-Cold War treaty banning landmines suggests that it is flexible enough to be adapted to verify a range of obligations in a variety of issue areas. Second, the Treaty establishes that the UNSG fact-finding mechanism is relevant in the context of verifying international obligations with respect to human security.7 This is significant in that in the postmodern global security order many of the threats to ‘international peace and security’ are in fact threats to ‘human security’, that is, they are violent threats to the well-being of individual human beings and the communities in which they live, rather than simply to the security of the state. The demonstrated adaptability of the UNSG fact-finding mechanism to a human security challenge such as that posed by landmines suggests the continuing importance of the United Nations as an institution of global governance in the emerging postmodern global security order. A related potential application of the UNSG fact-finding mechanism is in connection with the Convention on Conventional Weapons (CCW).8 This treaty covers a variety of ‘inhumane weapons’ (that is, weapons such as landmines, blinding lasers, etc. that are ‘indiscriminate’ and ‘needlessly injurious’) as so can be said to have an important ‘human security’ dimension. Although it is currently a rather weak instrument of international humanitarian law, it has the potential in the future to evolve into a more important element of global governance in the NACD realm. As was the case with the 1925 Geneva Protocol, however, at present this Convention contains no provisions for verification. Moreover, many states continue to resist the negotiation of an ‘intrusive’, ‘institutionalized’ and ‘expensive’ standing body capable of verifying this treaty. In this context, the UNSG fact-finding mechanism might prove to be an acceptable alternative to an OPCW-like ‘Verification Commission’. To begin with, it can be argued that the UNSG already has the authority to investigate alleged violations of the CCW under both his Article 99 powers and the powers deriving from ‘the humanitarian principles embodied in the Charter and the moral responsibilities vested in [the Secretary-General’s] office’.9 This authority could be reinforced through UNGA or UNSC resolutions calling upon the UNSG to ‘investigate, with the assistance of qualified experts, information that may be brought to his attention by any Member State concerning activities that constitute a violation of the CCW’.10 Second, as one of the key concerns of member states regarding the verification of the CCW is that verification measures would be unduly intrusive, the UNSG mechanism is recommended because the access afforded fact-finding missions is governed by covering agreements that place strict limits on intrusiveness. Third, the UNSG fact-finding mechanism is neither over-institutionalized (in the sense of having an extensive institutional infrastructure) nor prohibitively expensive. Finally, in the context of the CCW, long-term or continuous monitoring is not required. UNSG fact-finding missions need only be despatched to

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monitor specific declared activities (such as the destruction of stockpiles of proscribed armaments) or to investigate specific allegations of use, production, transfer or deployment of regulated or banned weapons. Ultimately, verification of the CCW is dependent on the willingness of the international community to accept some form of effective verification process. At present, a number of states are opposed to such a process for reasons that have little to do with the CCW per se. The key consideration in this context, however, is that attitudes towards verification have the potential to evolve as during the transition to a postmodern world order. This suggests that, in cases like the CCW where effective verification measures are presently considered to be too ambitious, the evolution of a less confrontational and more cooperative international environment in the future may create the conditions in which verification becomes more acceptable. In these circumstances, the UNSG fact-finding mechanism could provide a ready-made and cost-effective verification instrument which could be employed without engaging in a protracted and difficult formal review of the Convention. Verification, micro-disarmament and peacemaking The UNSG fact-finding mechanism is well suited to the verification in the context of micro-disarmament and peacemaking. First, it meets the important criterion of being a ‘neutral third party’ mechanism. While there may be exceptional cases, for the most part the UNSG is recognized as impartial, unbiased and objective. Second, in many post-conflict situations other means of verification (such as national technical measures and national intelligence measures) may be nonexistent or unequally distributed. In these circumstances, the UNSG mechanism could provide all parties with the means of verifying compliance with obligations assumed during the peacemaking process or timely evidence of non-compliance so that breaches can be satisfactorily addressed. Third, while not cost-free, UNSG fact-finding would be far less expensive than a permanent verification organization. Fourth, providing the parties are committed to the peacemaking process, UNSG fact-finding can be expected to generate the necessary high levels of assurance about the nature, deployment or activities of military forces. Finally, the UNSG mechanism is recommended by the fact that it can be ‘plugged in’ to previously negotiated confidence-building measures as political conditions become more favourable, thus obviating the need to negotiate a full-blown verification regime. Fact-finding as a confidence-building measure The UNSG fact-finding mechanism also has the potential to verify confidence-building measures at the global, regional and local levels. In this connection, confidence-building can involve information, constraint and declaratory measures. In the context of information measures, the UNSG

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fact-finding mechanism could be used to verify the accuracy of exchanges of data regarding composition and equipment of forces, defence budgets and notifications of military activities. The use of the UNSG mechanism in this capacity might be particularly helpful (a) at the beginning of a confidence-building process, (b) when low levels of trust exist between parties, or (c) when national technical and intelligence means are inadequate to verify compliance. The UNSG fact-finding mechanism could also be used to verify agreed constraint measures such as ‘limits on the size, equipment or area of manoeuvres’ as well as ‘restrictions on the deployment of “offensive” types of weaponry close to critical areas’.11 In this context, UN fact-finders could act as neutral third party observers, monitoring specified military activities and reporting their findings to the parties involved. Parties might even invoke the mechanism on themselves, (a) to resolve misunderstandings, (b) to demonstrate more clearly compliance with their obligations, or (c) to assure concerned parties that their intentions are not threatening. Finally, UNSG fact-finding can potentially be used to verify declaratory confidence-building measures such as a unilateral undertaking to remove or destroy a particular type of weapon or to restrict certain types of military activities. It can also be used to verify compliance with obligations that, while not deriving of a formal agreement, are nevertheless ‘politically’ binding. Examples of such an obligation include the commitment to regulate the transfer of missile technologies associated with the Missile Technology Control Regime, and the commitment (agreed among members of the Australia Group) to control chemical and biological materials. Once again, parties might exercise the option of ‘self-invocation’,12 invoking the UNSG fact-finding mechanism on themselves in order to demonstrate conclusively that they are in compliance with their obligations.

Notes 1. For a detailed description and analysis of the Protocol, see Gilles Cottereau, ‘The Geneva Protocol on Chemical and Biological Methods or Warfare (1925) and Related Procedures’, in Serge Sur (ed.), Verification of Current Disarmament and Arms Limitation Agreement: Ways, Means and Practices (Geneva: UNIDIR, 1991), pp. 41–65; and Henning Wegener, ‘International Fact-Finding as a Substitute for Verification: Political and Practical Problems’, in René Haug (ed.), Verification of Arms Control Agreements: The Role of Third Countries (PSIS Occasional Papers, no. 2/85, October 1985), pp. 58–70. 2. Thomas Stock, ‘Chemical and Biological Weapons: Developments and Proliferation’, SIPRI Yearbook 1993 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993), p. 262. 3. In the latter two cases, the Secretary-General deployed UN peacekeepers to conduct the investigation. 4. See Stock, ‘Chemical and Biological Weapons: Developments and Proliferation’, pp. 261–3; and Thomas Stock and Anna De Geer, ‘Chemical Weapon

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5. 6. 7. 8.

9. 10. 11.

12.

Developments’, SIPRI Yearbook 1994 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994), pp. 323–6. UNGA, Verification in All its Aspects, Including the Role of the United Nations in the Field of Verification (UN Document A/50/377 22 September 1995), p. 63. Ibid., pp. 4–5. Because they pose a physical, social and economic threat to non-combatants, landmines are widely viewed as posing a threat to human security. Formally known as The Convention on Prohibitions or Restrictions on the Use of Certain Conventional Weapons Which May be Deemed to be Excessively Injurious or to Have Indiscriminate Effects. It will be recalled that this was part of the formal justification for the UNSG’s investigations in respect of the 1925 Geneva Protocol. This language is from UNGA 37/98 D. George Lindsey, ‘The Contribution of Confidence-Building Measures’, in Patricia Bliss McFate, Douglas A. Fraser, Sidney N. Graybeal and George R. Lindsey, The Converging Roles of Arms Control Verification, Confidence-Building Measures, and Peace Operations: Opportunities for Harmonization and Synergies, Arms Control Verification Studies No. 6 (Ottawa: Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade, 1994), p. 24. The self-invocation option is actually codified in the Ottawa Treaty, which states that ‘at any time [a State Party] may invite a fact-finding mission to its territory’. Convention on the Prohibition of the Use, Stockpiling, Production and Transfer of AntiPersonnel Landmines and on Their Destruction (1997), Article 8, Paragraph 8.

9 The Future Role of the United Nations in Disarmament: Learning from the Iraq Experience Dorinda G. Dallmeyer

Introduction In UNSC Resolution 687,1 the United Nations called on Iraq, in exchange for a ceasefire, to reaffirm the Geneva Protocols of 1925 and to ratify the 1972 biological weapons convention. The text then proceeds with a list of unconditional requirements which can be summarized as follows. Within 15 days of the adoption of Resolution 687, Iraq must declare the locations, types and amounts of chemical weapons, biological weapons, ballistic missiles with ranges greater than 150 km, nuclear weapons and all related supporting materials and facilities. Iraq must yield possession of these weapons to a UN Special Commission (UNSCOM) for their destruction and submit to on-site inspection of related facilities. Additionally, Iraq must foreswear future acquisition, construction, development or use of these weapons and allow the United Nations to conduct ongoing monitoring in the future of Iraq’s compliance with these requirements. As part of this demilitarization process, Resolution 687 maintained in force an arms embargo on conventional weapons, chemical weapons, biological weapons, missiles, nuclear materials, related technologies, and training and technical services. It is no wonder that the UN Security Council’s programme to investigate and eliminate Iraq’s weapons of mass destruction following the Gulf War was considered by many to be the most dramatic arms elimination and verification regime ever imposed upon a nation. This marked the first time that the United Nations has tried to take possession of and destroy a defeated country’s entire arsenal.

Disarming Iraq: the task of the UN special commission and the IAEA Although an exact count of the weapons in Iraq’s arsenal remains in doubt, it none the less was of vast proportion.2 There were over 212,000 filled and unfilled chemical weapons ordnance and over 4,000 tons of chemical 129

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weapons bulk agent. Iraq acquired over 800 ballistic missiles over the years. It is unclear how many of the Scuds and other types of advanced missiles were destroyed by coalition forces during the war or how many were launched. Although Iraq has admitted conducting biological weapons research in the past, during the early 1990s approximately 200 bombs and warheads were filled with biological agents. The UNSCOM was given the responsibility for conducting all inspections and elimination activities related to Iraq’s disarmament including supervision of the destruction of the chemical and biological weapons and ballistic missiles. Because of the International Atomic Energy Agency’s expertise, the IAEA worked with UNSCOM to conduct activities related to nuclear materials. Together they essentially were trying to do what 90,000 tons of allied bombs could not do: disarm Iraq.3 The inspectors’ other primary mission was to determine the origin of weapons in the Iraqi arsenal. If the item was imported, the Commission tried to determine what supplier in which country was involved and the chain of importation. If the item was produced indigenously, then the Commission determined where it was produced and whether the production machinery had been destroyed. Such verification of destruction included inspection visits to the rubble remaining at sites targeted during ‘Desert Storm’.4

Loophole in Resolution 687 and Iraqi intransigence Resolution 687 is a very simple document compared with recent bilateral and multilateral arms control treaties. It certainly does not reach the level of complexity in its implementation instructions as the 750-page START Treaty, for example. In the text there is no discussion (nor were any arrangements made in advance) about the amount of notification time needed before the inspection or about long-term access. This lack of specificity in implementation instruction, coupled with the intransigence of Iraqi officials, complicated the UN inspection process from its initiation in 1991. For example, the United Nations wanted to use German-supplied helicopters to look for missile sites in Iraq, to monitor the perimeters of large military installations, to track suspicious convoys, to ensure timely arrival at an inspection site and to carry special equipment for the inspectors.5 Iraq rejected this as constituting a breach of its sovereignty. Instead, it offered the United Nations use of its own helicopters manned by Iraqi pilots. UNSCOM rejected Iraq’s offer because those helicopters had proved to be unsafe aircraft flown by often uncooperative pilots. The debate raged for several months. Finally, it was decided that the UN helicopters could be used, but at least one Iraqi official was to be on board each flight. Iraq demanded a prohibition on aerial photography, restrictions on flights to its western regions, a two-week time limit on inspections,6 and,

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in the famous 1991 ‘show-down’ in a car park,7 a complete inventory of all documents removed from its possession. After the car park stand-off, UNSCOM agreed to provide Iraq with an inventory of seized documents as well as videotapes made by inspectors before the confiscated materials were turned over to the United Nations. Yet Iraq continued to delay and deny access to suspicious sites. Even had there been a cooperative Iraqi government, the inspectors would have had a formidable task before them. Resolution 687 imposed an unrealistic time-span of 45 days either to take possession of the weapons or to destroy them. Additionally, UNSCOM was charged with removing any uranium-enriched and any separated plutonium. Early on, UN teams were busy eliminating whatever missiles remained, as well as decoys, warheads, launchers and missile fuel storage tanks. Inspectors had to return at least once to supervise the destruction of missile transporters that had been previously destroyed under UN supervision. In terms of conventional weapons, the UN supervised the destruction of two superguns, one with a 350 mm diameter barrel almost 50 metres long, and a second 1,000 mm calibre gun with an almost 100 m long barrel. Additionally, arms inspectors detonated several tons of explosives imported from Belgium for use in these guns.8 Problems for the inspection team All these activities underscore the need for a large number of people to compose the inspectorate. The give-and-take of questioning takes a long time, and inspectors were often in danger from contamination at damaged facilities as they attempted to discover and eliminate the remaining Iraqi arsenal.9 They had difficulty implementing an agreement which, by its own terms, gave little indication of how it should be carried out. Hundreds of people were needed to conduct these inspections, both on the ground and as back-up experts, air crew and transportation personnel. Over 400 people were assigned to the nuclear inspections; 200 carried out chemical weapons inspections, and approximately 28 comprised each inspection team looking for biological weapons.10 Inspectors had to be able to question officials about the work they conducted on demand, which presumed competency in the Arabic language. Thus there was great demand for translators to accompany the inspection teams as well as to analyse seized documents. One positive aspect of the large number of people required to carry out these inspections was that a large number of nations, including developing countries, by supplying competent personnel, became more involved than ever with arms control monitoring and the verification process. For example, the nuclear inspection team which was detained in 1991 in the car park was composed of 37 people from 22 countries including Morocco, Egypt and Syria, nations previously not at the forefront of arms control verification.11

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Monitoring the demilitarization On 11 October 1991 the UNSC unanimously approved the long-term monitoring of Iraq’s demilitarization. Under this agreement UN inspectors were able to examine both military and civilian facilities. It was a punishable offence for any citizen to try to develop weapons of mass destruction or to possess or manufacture forbidden materials. The plan expanded the lists of materials which inspectors would monitor. There were strict controls on imports of chemicals, nuclear materials or technology and dual-use items. The inspectors were allowed to remove any documents or materials during intrusive, unannounced checks of suspicious sites. The long-term monitoring plan imposed a total ban on Iraq’s nuclear programme, including civilian nuclear power. Only medical and industrial isotopes were allowed in the country. Iraq provided an inventory of all nuclear installations and materials and listed all power plants producing more than 10 megawatts of electricity. Also, there were stringent requirements limiting the ranges of missiles Iraq could store. Those with ranges greater than 100 km were banned, and missiles with ranges greater than 75 km as well as missile sites and facilities were declared. Additionally, Iraq submitted reports every six months on projects with potential military application.12 The UN plan essentially required monitoring people’s career paths in perpetuity to ensure that nuclear scientists did not rebuild Iraq’s arsenal. In one sense, long-term monitoring actually may be simpler for nuclear weapons.13 The difficulty in negotiating a global chemical weapons ban stems in large part from the problem in distinguishing the host of civilian uses for many of the same chemical precursors and facilities equally adaptable for military ends. Preventing biological weapons development requires monitoring all containment facilities used for legitimate medical research. Because Iraq is not prohibited from having any missiles at all, care was taken to ensure that permitted missiles were not covertly modified to exceed the maximum range allowed. The United Nations, as a result, was required to monitor all Iraqi missile tests. In contrast, nuclear materials presented a more limited list of items which already had been under a great deal of scrutiny. The limits of intelligence-gathering However, the difficulties experienced during the demilitarization phase do not bode well for such a long-term commitment. Coupled with the uncertainty about the exact size of the remaining arsenal has been the lack of intelligence-gathering capabilities possessed by the United Nations.14 The United States provided the United Nations with U-2 reconnaissance planes to survey Iraq for prohibited weapons and installations.15 Iraq received written notice in advance telling where and when the plane would enter its airspace, but not the flight path. Additionally, electronic and human intelligence were used to augment the data gathered by the U-2 flights.

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Images from US photo-reconnaissance satellites were to a certain extent impaired by cloud cover and haze in the area, and the photo-reconnaissance satellite data was not shared widely in the United Nations. Nevertheless, the United States did show classified photos to closed Security Council meetings to demonstrate the concealment of nuclear capabilities by Iraqi officials, something not done since the Cuban missile crisis.16 The Special Commission received only photos, not interpretation by analysts. Without its own cadre of intelligence analysts, the United Nations is not very well positioned to interpret the information coming from reconnaissance aircraft and to handle the flood of documentation which its inspectors collected on the ground in Iraq. For example, UN inspectors collected over 45,000 documents, 19 hours of videotape and 70 rolls of film for still photographs in one surprise inspection at the nuclear headquarters in Baghdad.17 Of course, even a grandiose intelligence-gathering capability does not guarantee success. The United States was surprised by the extent of the nuclear programme in Iraq which was not detected prior to war. At that time, only eight sites had been reported in the media as being suspected nuclear facilities.18 Once inspectors were able to gain access, they discovered approximately twice that number of facilities connected with Iraq’s nuclear weapons programme.19 A plant known innocuously as Petrochemical 3 at Al Atheer, which suffered damage to only about 15 per cent of its building during the air campaign, turned out to be the principal nuclear weapons development facility. Further, the coalition completely failed to bomb Al Furat where uranium enrichment centrifuges were being built.20 As part of the disarmament process, inspectors destroyed eight buildings at Al Atheer worth several hundred million dollars. In addition to the buildings, the IAEA team destroyed approximately 90 per cent of the equipment located there, including isostatic presses, high-temperature furnaces and precision lathes useful for a wide variety of nuclear weapons development and manufacturing processes.21 Another example of the limits of US intelligence can be seen in the variations of estimates regarding the time remaining before Iraq would obtain nuclear capability. Prior to Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait, estimates indicated as much as ten or more years for Iraq to acquire a nuclear weapon.22 The lowest estimate, 6–12 months, was presented by President George Bush a few days after a poll indicated that US respondents would favour military action against Iraq only to stop the country from acquiring nuclear weapons.23 After the war, evidence examined by a nuclear experts’ group under the auspices of the United Nations led them to conclude that Iraq was at least three years (and perhaps more) away from producing a crude nuclear weapon.24 Evidence seized by inspectors indicated several bottlenecks in the Iraqi weapons programme.25 The effort to enrich uranium using calutrons was impeded by the slow production rate of the equipment and problems in

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maintaining stable operating conditions. The Iraqis had not succeeded in shaping high explosives or in designing high-speed electronic detonation triggers, both integral to achieving critical mass. While they had sufficient computer equipment to support their theoretical calculations, Iraqi scientists had fallen short in conducting experiments with non-nuclear explosions to confirm their calculations. They also were having problems modelling the behaviour of materials at ultra-high pressure. And as far as their putative centrifuge capability was concerned, the design for their planned facility was described as ‘fundamentally flawed’ by one group of nuclear experts.26 Despite these problems, the Iraqi programme was a top priority of Saddam Hussein’s government. This enterprise, supported by $4–8 billion of Iraqi oil revenues, employed 20,000 technical workers, including 7,000 scientists and engineers.27 To maintain its secrecy, the effort was highly compartmentalized. Buildings were designed to look innocent to photoreconnaissance satellites; power lines were buried; air filtration systems were installed to prevent the escape of potentially detectable radioisotopes; and to avoid interception by signals intelligence assets, procurement officers avoided using telephones to place orders for controlled equipment.28 Yet as early as 1985, the US Department of Defense circulated memoranda warning that Iraq had refused to certify that it would not use dualuse computers it wanted to purchase from the United States in its nuclear programme.29 Despite the Pentagon’s warning, the Departments of State and Commerce authorized the necessary export licences. Similarly, in 1989, Department of Energy export control officers were viewed as alarmists regarding their warnings about Iraqi purchases of gas centrifuges in Europe and its attempt to purchase capacitors useful for bomb triggers from a California firm.30 Of course, there is plenty of blame to be shared around the globe, with estimates of at least 450 Western companies involved in the provision of all sorts of equipment, facilities and technical support to the Iraqi bomb effort.31 Although Iraq was able to develop a great deal of indigenous talent, it still had to rely on outside sources for everything from precision machine tools to building supplies. As one inspector put it, ‘Everything was imported down to the last power line.’32 Yet this wide-ranging import effort was abetted by the apparent willingness on the part of the United States to believe that Iraq had only limited expertise in how to construct a nuclear weapon. Prior to the Kuwait invasion, the CIA had only one analyst examining the Iraqi nuclear programme, and that person was monitoring Japanese developments as well. Thus, for the United States, the Iraqi programme was of low priority.33 The United States grossly underestimated the money, time, patience and talent Iraq was willing to devote to this effort. Despite having the best intelligence assets in the world, the United States was blinded by fundamentally incorrect assumptions about Iraq’s intentions and capabilities. If the United States

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failed to determine what was going on in Iraq, how can the United Nations with its much more limited capability expect to do better?

The cost factor Cost was a major factor in both the implementation phase and the longterm monitoring. Weapons inspections in Iraq during one six-month period cost $90 million.34 Depending on the method used to destroy chemical weapons, it costs between $200 and $800 million to build and operate a special facility for chemical destruction.35 The planned removal of nuclear fuel rods from the Tuwaitha reactor alone was estimated to cost $20 million.36 All of these projected expenditures far exceeded the United Nations’ funds for disarmament. The intrusive inspection regime could dwarf the $800–900 million needed annually37 to run the General Assembly, the Security Council, the Economic and Social Council, the International Court of Justice and the Secretariat offices in New York, Geneva, Vienna and elsewhere. Who is going to pay for this? Iraq? The United Nations allowed Iraq to sell $1.6 billion worth of oil to provide humanitarian assistance for its people and also to pay for reparations in 1991.38 Of that $1.6 billion, $80 million (5 per cent) was earmarked for the Special Commission supervising the demilitarization of Iraq and a commission that was created to establish the permanent Kuwait–Iraq boundary.39 Additionally, the United Nations determined that Iraq would not be forced to pay more in reparations per year than what was being spent on weaponry prior to the Gulf War – approximately $5 billion.40 Of course, there were other demands on Iraqi oil income, such as reparations for Kuwait, losses in private commercial contracts and facilities, and a host of other damages related to the war.

Difficulties in enforcement Enforcement is another major problem in terms of who is going to do it and how it will be done. It was difficult to maintain unity among the coalition forces regarding Iraq since the end of the war. In addition to the roles the United Nations adopted for itself in the field of verification, other ideas were pressed for consideration. Participants at the G-7 summit endorsed the idea of a UN registry to record and disclose all weapons sales and transfers. This registry is now in place. Of course, if the major powers had backed their existing policies with enforcement, Iraq would not have possessed much of the advanced military capabilities in the first place. Nevertheless, nations acting either alone, in supplier groups (such as the Nuclear Suppliers Group41 and the Missile Technology Control Regime42) or through the United Nations can do a great deal to reinforce export controls and restrictions on arms and technology sales in the future.

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Hans Blix, as director of the IAEA, argued that the registry system had to cover nuclear equipment and technology sales by countries that export such items.43 That these controls have worked rather well in the past is indicated by seized Iraqi documents which revealed that Iraqi nuclear scientists frequently could not get the more complicated devices and machinery they needed from the commercial market.44 On the other hand, calutrons were an ‘old’ technology which the Iraqis put to use in developing their nuclear potential. Thus an arms sales registry and a technology embargo can only go so far to counter indigenous talent developed with information available from the open literature.45 Also in the nuclear realm, the IAEA requested national intelligence agencies to report suspected cheating by any signatory to the Non-Proliferation Treaty.46 The IAEA serves not only as a clearing house for this information, but instituted inspections at suspicious sites. I would caution that, if we are going to have the opportunity for more intrusive inspections, then we need to work out the procedures themselves in greater detail.

Lesson learned While the United Nations has an idea of what it wanted Resolution 687 to accomplish, its implementation process was vague and ripe for the creation of disputes with the Iraqi government. Perhaps we should not be too critical of the United Nations for making this ‘random walk’ through uncharted territory of non-consensual disarmament given the novelty of the situation. There is an old saying: ‘If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will take you there.’ Indeed, this is not the only area that is either novel or imperfectly defined. Although the NPT is cited often as a sterling example of success because of the near-universality of membership and other factors, we now have the revelations of the extent to which Iraq abrogated its obligations even though it was an NPT signatory. As a result, Iraq became the object of highly intrusive inspection, long-term monitoring and the denial of its opportunity to pursue even a civilian nuclear programme in an apparent conflict with rights otherwise guaranteed under Article 4 of the Treaty. These violations have led to a call for more stringent requirements that all NPT signatories will have to meet. One might describe this as a shift from a regulatory approach to a realist focus on power, control and enforcement. But important nuclear and near-nuclear states have chosen to remain outside the NPT regime, unwilling to conform even to the minimum level of safeguards and inspection activities set out in the original Treaty and surely even less seduced by the new obligations now being proposed. The inspection procedures, such as those practised in Iraq, will have to be very carefully thought through if they are to serve as a model for future action and if they are to serve as fair warning and as a deterrent to other

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states. The United Nations will have to expand its repertoire of informationgathering to focus on the source of technology and also to track patterns of imports to get an overall idea of a country’s intentions. Supply-side controls are reaching their limits of usefulness because of the dual-use nature of so many technologies. Consequently, the United Nations will have to learn to focus more on political persuasion than on simple technology denial. Non-proliferation concerns have emerged from the periphery so that now the IAEA, the NSG and the Non-Proliferation Treaty itself play a central role in the Security Council. With the end of the Cold War, former client states no longer have the protection of their mentors and allies and are no longer able to develop nuclear capabilities quietly. Non-proliferation theory is undergoing a transition from quiet persuasion, balanced compromise and diplomatic deals to the vigorous denial of the right of nonnuclear states to pursue ambiguous activities.47

Conclusion In conclusion, the United Nations’ experience in Iraq does not clearly point to an expanded verification role. In fact, the outcomes have been quite mixed. It is learning the hard way what the United States and the Soviet Union discovered for themselves: that verification of disarmament and the destruction of weapons require a great deal of time, a host of extremely capable personnel and a lot of money. Just as the superpowers discovered, intelligence capabilities go only so far. The United Nations is discovering that it is quite difficult to implement an agreement when few instructions are given, especially when they have not been agreed upon in advance. There is no clear vision on how it should respond when faced with non-compliance. Also the US role in providing intelligence and the perceived US influence over the Special Commission and the Security Council can compromise the perception of the United Nations as an impartial monitor and an equitable enforcer. The Iraq experience serves as an apt exemplar for the problems the United Nations faces regarding the attempt to rethink sovereignty. After decades of Cold War deadlock, hierarchical institutions to augment or replace state sovereignty are embryonic only. Complicating the issue is the relative lack of consensus on collective standards, aside from the desirability of ‘order’. Hand in hand with the lack of well-developed standards goes the difficulty of interpreting individual fact patterns to apply standards. Witness the contrast between the Security Council response to the Gulf crisis and its response to the breakdown of Yugoslavia. For preventive diplomacy to work, that is, to deter objectionable behaviour, we must have well-developed standards, authoritative interpretive mechanisms, predictability and consistency in application. It may well be that the United Nations, in this case, is an organization being asked to do more than it currently is set up to do.

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Notes 1. S/RES/687 (1991). 2. See, for example, New York Times (28 April 1991) p. E3 (comparing pre- and postwar estimates of Iraqi chemical, nuclear and biological weapons as well as missile inventories), 18 Interdependent at 1, 6 (UNA/USA January–February 1992). See also The United Nations and the Iraq-Kuwait Conflict 1990–1996, Blue Books Series, vol. 9, 94–95 (1996). 3. 47 Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists (September 1991) p. 10. 4. In mid-1991, the Commission discovered that Iraq was destroying weapons unilaterally, a violation of Resolution 687 which requires first, the declaration of the weapons and, second, their destruction under supervision of the Commission. For example, these unilateral actions in one case required inspectors to go to northern Iraq to examine 1250 pieces of dynamited centrifuges which had been buried in seven different locations. Washington Post (13 October 1991) p. A1. 5. See, for example, reports on the helicopter controversy in the Washington Post (13 August 1991) p. A12; idem (11 September 1991) p. A26; New York Times (18 September 1991) p. A3. 6. See New York Times (13 September 1991) p. A5; idem (4 October 1991) p. A6. 7. See New York Times (27 September 1991) at A6; idem (28 September 1991) at 1. Iraq continues to deny and delay access to sites. See UN Special Commission Briefing, 25 June 1996; Press Release DH/2098, 11 March 1996 (inspection team delayed 18 hours). 8. For surveys of inspection and dismantling activities in Iraq, see Washington Post (18 June 1991) p. A14; New York Times (18 May 1991) p. A1; idem (9 October 1991) p. A6. 9. See Washington Post (1 May 1991) p. A23; Washington Times (8 August 1991) p. A1. 10. See New York Times (28 April 1991); Washington Post (1 May 1991) p. A23; Washington Post (6 August 1991) p. A11. 11. See Washington Post (8 July 1991) p. A14; New York Times (26 September 1991) p. A7. 12. For a synopsis of Security Council Resolution 715, see New York Times (10 October 1991) p. A6. For descriptions of continuing problems with missile and chemical weapons inspections, see Judy Aita, ‘Iraqi Missiles still Unaccounted for, UNSCOM Says’, U.S. Information Agency (17 October 1996). 13. See interview with Ambassador Rolf Ekeus, 22 Arms Control Today at 8 (April 1992). Dual-capable industries became subjects of long-term monitoring in 1995. 14. See D. G. Dallmeyer, ‘Using Outer Space to Ensure Peace on Earth: Satellites for Arms Control Monitoring and Crisis Management’, in D. G. Dallmeyer and K. Tsipis (eds.), Heaven and Earth: Civilian Uses of Near-Earth Space (Dordrecht: Kluwer 1997). 15. See New York Times (13 August 1991) p. A5; Washington Post (13 August 1991) p. A12. 16. See New York Times (27 June 1991) p. A4. 17. See New York Times (11 October 1991) p. A11; Washington Post (13 October 1991) p. A1; UN Disarmament Newsletter (December 1991) p. 14. 18. See New York Times (10 October 1991) p. A7. 19. See map of sites in Washington Post (13 October 1991) p. A44. 20. See New York Times (8 April 1991) p. A9. 21. See New York Times (26 March 1992) p. A4.

Disarmament: The Iraq Experience 139 22. See David Albright and Mark Hibbs, ‘Hyping the Iraqi Bomb’, 47 Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists (March 1991) pp. 26–28. 23. CBS/New York Times, poll (20 November 1990). 24. See New York Times (20 May 1992) p. A6. 25. See idem; David Albright and Mark Hibbs, ‘Iraq’s Bombs: Blueprints and Artifacts’, 48 Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists ( January–February 1992) pp. 30–40. 26. See New York Times (20 May 1992) p. A7. 27. See Washington Post (13 October 1991) p. A1. 28. See New York Times (20 October 1991) p. E5. 29. See New York Times (5 July 1992) p. 7. 30. See Washington Post (21 April 1992) p. A15; New York Times (23 April 1992) p. A4. 31. See New York Times (25 October 1991) p. A33. 32. See Financial Times (5 October 1991) p. 8. 33. See New York Times (20 October 1991) p. E5. 34. See Wall Street Journal (30 September 1991) p. A8. 35. See idem; Washington Post (1 May 1991) p. A23; Defense News (6 January 1992) p. 30. 36. See Financial Times (26 September 1991) p. 1. 37. See ‘Financing the United Nations’ UNA/USA Fact Sheet (January–February 1992). 38. The plan was approved by a 13-1-1 vote of the Security Council in August 1991. 39. See Washington Post (16 August 1991) p. A28. 40. See New York Times (15 May 1991) p. A4. 41. See New York Times (3 May 1992) p. 9; 22 Arms Control Today (April 1992) p. 19. 42. See 22 Arms Control Today (July–August 1992) p. 13 (describing efforts to strengthen controls on exports of missile technology). 43. See New York Times (11 October 1991) p. A6. 44. See New York Times (14 October 1991) p. A6. 45. See Wall Street Journal (22 August 1991) p. A4; Washington Post (13 October 1992) p. A1. 46. See New York Times (11 October 1991) p. A6. 47. See John Simpson, ‘NPT Stronger after Iraq’, Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, (October 1991) pp. 12–13.

10 The Civilian Police Element in UN Peacekeeping: The Case of Haiti Julian Harston

Introduction UN peacekeeping missions have included civilian police components since the operation in the Congo in the early 1960s. The growth in the number of peacekeeping operations in the last ten years and their increasingly multidimensional nature has contributed to a growing participation of civilian police in new operations. In March 1998, over 3,000 civilian police officers, nearly a quarter of all peacekeepers deployed, from 54 member states were serving in eight peacekeeping operations around the world.1 The expanding involvement of civilian police in peacekeeping missions has sparked interest in their role and functions by practitioners and scholars alike. By assessing the role of the Civilian Police in UN peacekeeping in Haiti, this chapter reviews briefly the history of Haiti; deals with the international intervention in Haiti in 1994 which restored President Aristide to power; examines the United Nations’ role in establishing and training the Haitian National Police (HNP); and identifies lessons for UN civilian policing from the experience in Haiti.

Historical background Haiti gained its independence from France in 1804, thus becoming the first black republic in the world and the second oldest independent state in the Americas. It was an event of great historical significance: ‘A rebellion of the free coloured population, united to a successful slave revolt, had overthrown a white government. Haitian independence presented a radical challenge to colonialism, to slavery and to the associated ideology of white racialism.’2 Independence, however, did not lead to a better life for the majority of Haiti’s people. Following independence, the country was plagued by political instability, economic exploitation, social inequality and environmental degradation. During the course of two centuries, the richest European colony in the Caribbean became the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. 140

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The United States invaded Haiti in 1915 and occupied it for the next 19 years. The occupation was prompted by a combination of strategic, economic and financial factors, as well as a Wilsonian concern for order and stability. The United States promulgated a new constitution, installed a client regime, established a new armed force, built roads and bridges, and improved sanitation and public health. Perhaps predictably, for a nation deeply proud of its anti-colonial heritage, the US occupation sparked nationalist opposition and widespread resentment. In 1934 President Franklin Roosevelt withdrew the marines from Haiti.3 The military occupation had ended, but darker days lay ahead. In 1957 the 29-year Duvalier dictatorships began with François ‘Papa Doc’ Duvalier, and continued under his son Jean-Claude, ‘Baby Doc’. Under the Duvaliers the Haitian state, which had long been predatory, preyed on its citizens to an unprecedented degree.4 The macoutes, the Duvaliers’ venal henchmen, terrorized Haitian society. Faced with mounting popular protest and discontent, and a worsening economic crisis, Jean-Claude Duvalier fled to France on 7 February 1986. His departure was followed by a number of military dominated provisional governments. Internationally monitored elections were held in December 1990, and Father Jean-Bertrand Aristide, a charismatic and popular priest, was elected president. As the leader of the Lavalas (‘flood’) movement, he galvanized the country’s poor and won two-thirds of the vote. In September 1991, seven months after his inauguration, Haiti’s first democratically elected president was overthrown in a military coup d’état which forced Aristide into exile, first in Venezuela and later in the United States.5

International intervention in Haiti Following the coup d’état the international community became engaged in a three-year sustained effort to dislodge the military regime through negotiations, political pressure, economic sanctions and ultimately military force. On 30 July 1994, the Security Council, acting under Chapter VII of the UN Charter, adopted Resolution 940 which authorized member states to form a Multinational Force (MNF) to end the military dictatorship, facilitate the return of the legitimately elected president and establish and maintain a secure and stable environment. The US-led MNF landed in Haiti on 19 September 1994 with a strength of 21,000 troops. On 15 October 1994, President Aristide returned triumphantly to Haiti. Resolution 940 also provided that a UN peacekeeping force, the UN Mission in Haiti (UNMIH), would take over from the MNF after a secure and stable environment had been established and UNMIH had adequate force capability and structure to assume the full range of its functions. The resolution called for the Council to determine the appropriate time of transition taking into account recommendations from the member states of the

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MNF, which were based on the assessment of the commander of the MNF, and from the UNSG. On 31 March 1995, an orderly transition occurred from the MNF to UNMIH.6 At its peak in June 1995, UNMIH deployed over 6,000 troops and about 850 civilian police. Building the Haitian national police force The mandate of UNMIH was to assist the democratic government of Haiti in the following areas: sustaining the secure and stable environment established during the multinational phase and protecting international personnel and key installations; professionalizing the Haitian armed forces and creating a separate police force; and establishing an environment conducive to the organization of free and fair legislative elections. The creation of a police force, an important part of the mandate of UNMIH, was a daunting task. The central challenge facing the United Nations was to establish a neutral, non-partisan and professional police force that was accountable to legitimate civilian authority and respected the rule of law. Such a force had never existed in Haiti. The HNP also needed equipment and supplies without which it could not perform its functions effectively, and all the police stations had to be rehabilitated. UNMIH’s civilian police provided on-the-job training to the police officers who had graduated from the newly established Police Academy, and management support to the Director-General of the HNP. However, many of the UNMIH civilian police personnel spoke neither French nor Creole, and this hampered their effectiveness.7 In light of Haiti’s economic woes the UNSG established a voluntary UN Trust Fund to help provide resources to the police force. As the end of UNMIH’s mandate approached, which was set for 29 February 1996, it was apparent that the HNP was not yet ready to shoulder the burdens of Haiti’s public security without further international assistance. The young and inexperienced force needed further training and lacked competent senior officers. Therefore, the Haitian government, supported by the ‘Friends of the Secretary-General for Haiti’, namely, Argentina, Canada, Chile, France, the United States and Venezuela, and (then) Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali, requested the Security Council to extend UNMIH’s mandate for a further six months. The Council approved an extension for a ‘final period’ of four months until 30 June 1996, but decided to reduce the troop strength of UNMIH to 1,200 and the number of civilian police to 300.8 Following elections, in May 1996 President René Préval submitted to the Secretary-General a request for a continued UN force for a further sixmonth period. The UNSG supported this request for the following reasons: the HNP was not in a position to maintain a secure and stable environment on its own; many Haitians feared that the HNP might not be able to protect them from the militia and sympathizers of the former military rulers; and the withdrawal of the UN presence could jeopardize the goal of establishing the new HNP. The UNSG recommended the establishment of a new mission

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known as the UN Support Mission in Haiti (UNSMIH) with a mandate to assist the Haitian authorities in the professionalization of the HNP, and in the maintenance of a secure and stable environment conducive to the success of the current efforts to establish and train an effective national police force; and to support the role of the Special Representative of the SecretaryGeneral in the coordination of activities by the UN system to promote institution-building, national reconciliation and economic rehabilitation in Haiti.9 On 28 June 1996, the Council endorsed the UNSG’s recommendation and adopted Resolution 1063 which established UNSMIH. From its inception in July 1996 until its termination on 31 July 1997, UNSMIH CIVPOL officers served as instructors at the Police Academy; trained mid-level and senior officers with a view to strengthening the HNP command structure; and improved the HNP’s capacity in criminal investigation and crowd control. The Mission’s ability to execute its mandate was facilitated by monthly meetings, held by President Préval and attended by representatives of UNSMIH and bilateral donors, to review the HNP’s progress. However, the Mission faced two critical impediments to its work. First, the frequent rotation of nearly two-thirds of the civilian police element, in accordance with the regulations of some contributing countries had a negative impact on training and continuity; and second, the short renewals of the mandate of UNSMIH created uncertainty within the HNP and the Mission.10 As the end of UNSMIH’s mandate approached, the progress made in the establishment of the HNP remained uneven. And on the political scene, there had been disquieting developments. On 9 June 1997 Prime Minister Rosny Smarth resigned, saying he had been ‘hamstrung by tensions within the ruling coalition and lamenting, in particular, certain developments surrounding recent elections’.11 The economy was in crisis, with unemployment and underemployment estimated at about 70 per cent. Accordingly, on 31 July 1997 the UNSC adopted Resolution 1123 establishing a new mission known as the UN Transition Mission in Haiti (UNTMIH) for a single four-month period ending on 30 November 1997. In light of the United Nations’ financial crisis and unpaid contributions to UNMIH and UNSMIH, UNTMIH’s strength was reduced from 300 to 250 CIVPOL officers and from 500 to 50 military personnel. UNTMIH emphasized the training of three of the specialized units of the HNP: crowd control, the rapid reaction force and Palace Security. UNTMIH and UNDP prepared a technical assistance programme, financed by the voluntary Trust Fund, to provide 50 law enforcement advisers to the HNP on a more long-term basis.

MIPONUH’s mandate The UN Civilian Police Mission in Haiti (MIPONUH) is the fourth in a series of peacekeeping operations in Haiti authorized by the UNSC. As the

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mandate of UNTMIH drew to a close and with it the departure of all UN military forces, President Préval requested continued UN assistance to the HNP: The United Nations has been a determining factor for stability and security in Haiti, especially by participating in the training and professional development of Haiti’s national police force … . However, it is important to continue working to strengthen our police force, which has been in action for only two years especially in the matter of personnel management and matériel, and the training of specialised corps to combat the growing insecurity, banditry and drug trafficking. Accordingly, the assistance of a civilian police mission to support the training of police would ensure that this institution, indispensable to the establishment of a State truly under the rule of law, can develop in a balanced way, smoothly and quickly.12 President Préval’s request was endorsed by Secretary-General Kofi Annan: ‘As for the Haitian National Police, while it is developing well and the three key specialized units relating to crowd control, Palace security and rapid reaction force have been established, it is my considered opinion that in the political and economic climate prevailing in Haiti, the National Police will need international assistance if it is to continue to pursue its own institutional development while meeting the country’s increasing security needs.’13 The Secretary-General recommended that the new mission focus on training the supervisory levels of the HNP and its specialized units; continue periodically and in selected areas to monitor the performance of the HNP; guide agents in their day-to-day duties; oversee the UNDP technical assistance programme to the HNP; and cooperate closely with the joint Civilian Mission of the UN and the OAS (MICIVIH) in monitoring the HNP’s respect for human rights. On 28 November 1997 the UNSC decided by Resolution 1141 to establish MIPONUH, ‘composed of up to 300 civilian police, with a mandate limited to a single one-year period ending on 30 November 1998 in order to continue to assist the Government of Haiti by supporting and contributing to the professionalization of the Haitian National Police’, and to approve the recommendations of the UNSG. The mandates of civilian police in traditional peacekeeping operations have been primarily to train national police forces, to assist them in carrying out their professional duties and to monitor their performance to ensure that they comply with national laws and in particular, that they respect human rights. Therefore, in a sense, the mandate of MIPONUH, to assist in the training and professionalization of the HNP, is a continuation of established practice.

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However, while civilian police have been a traditional element of UN peacekeeping operations, it is a relatively new development to have missions based on civilian police, rather than military contingents. MIPONUH, the International Police Task Force (IPTF) in Bosnia and Herzegovina and the Police Support Group (PSG) in Eastern Slavonia are examples of this new and apparently growing trend in peacekeeping. They are a reflection of the fact that civilian police play a vital role in preventive deployment, peacekeeping, peacebuilding and peace maintenance.14 Civilian police missions, of course, reflect the widely accepted view that the first duty of a government is the security of its citizens. Security is also the sine qua non of development. However, as one commentator recently noted, ‘in these missions there is much more to public security than that narrowly defined or provided for by military peacekeepers.’15 MIPONUH is led by a Representative of the Secretary-General (RSG) who is assisted by a Civilian Police Commissioner. In addition to serving as Chief of Mission, the RSG has overall responsibility for politically-related UN activities in Haiti and maintains close contacts with Haitian leaders. UNMIH was the first peacekeeping operation to integrate the work of the UN Development Programme (UNDP) into its mission, which was facilitated by the appointment of the UNDP Resident Representative as the Deputy Chief of Mission. This formula has continued with MIPONUH and the UNDP Resident Representative serves as Deputy Representative of the Secretary-General, in addition to his responsibility as the coordinator of UN development activities in Haiti, thus ensuring close coordination and collaboration between MIPONUH and UNDP. It is axiomatic that one of the conditions of success in peacekeeping is the clarity and feasibility of an operation’s mandate. Ambiguous, unrealistic and impractical mandates are recipes for failure and risk compounding the very problems they are intended to resolve. An advantage of the mandate of MIPONUH is that it is clear and straightforward. The nature of the central problem it is intended to address is clearly defined. Implementing the mandate While MIPONUH’s mandate may be clear, its implementation is by no means easy. The challenge relates to the nature of the HNP, which, as has been noted, is a new and inexperienced police force. Furthermore, there is no tradition of civilian and community policing in Haiti. In view of the violent role of macoutes and paramilitary groups in the country’s history, it is particularly important that the police force not be perceived by Haitians as yet another instrument of intimidation and terror, and the police themselves – children of oppressive times – need to learn new and radically different habits. The HNP has limited human, financial and material resources which hamper its effectiveness. Its targeted strength of 7,500 officers which is yet to be achieved, is a small number for a population of

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seven million, and it still lacks sufficient equipment, including vehicles, radios and uniforms. In addition, the absence of an adequate judicial system seriously impedes the HNP’s ability to carry out its functions. In order to implement the MIPONUH mandate, the civilian police are deployed in all nine départements, including six commissariats in the Portau-Prince metropolitan area, at the headquarters of the HNP and with its specialized units. However, while previous missions concentrated on the training of the rank-and-file, MIPONUH focuses on training at the supervisory level. The number of civilian police officers advising on matters of drug control, judicial police and environmental matters has been increased in response to the growing need for specialized expertise. A guiding principle of civilian police components in peacekeeping operations is that officers shall be unarmed, which helps them gain that confidence of the local population which is critical for their tasks. In most cases it may not be sensible to arm civilian police. In certain situations, however, it is necessary for reasons of security that civilian police officers be armed for self-defence. It is a prudent measure. The civilian police personnel of MIPONUH, as did those in the WEU-led action in Mostar, carry personal weapons, and the 300 officers include a 140-strong unit of well-armed and equipped Argentine Gendarmerie to protect the personnel and property of the Mission. The countries contributing most of the civilian police element were not prepared to deploy their personnel without appropriate security arrangements.16 There is no evidence that the effectiveness of civilian police officers has been negatively affected by their being armed. On the contrary, in the Haitian context it has given them more credibility. None the less, arming of the police constitutes a radical departure from the underlying philosophy of peacekeeping. Closer attention needs to be given to what it means to arm civilian police officers, especially as the majority of them are engaged in peacebuilding and peace maintenance, rather than peacekeeping or peace enforcement. How much of a reality that protection is should be clearly considered. Armed civilian police have been seen by some member states as the acceptable and least costly option between doing nothing and deploying military contingents or indeed as a cushion between the deployment of national police and military in aid of the civil power. For others they are viewed as a convenient exit strategy for the military. Such perceptions carry the risk of civilian police being deployed in situations and given tasks for which they may not be equipped. The increasing role of civilian police in UN peacekeeping has highlighted the importance of recruiting appropriately trained police officers. MIPONUH includes well-qualified officers from 11 countries whose training is broadly similar. The vast majority are fluent in French and some speak Creole as well, which fosters cohesion among the officers and strengthens their links with the local population. In this regard the homogeneity offered by Francophony is enormously valuable. By definition the

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police are drawn from a limited number of countries – most with a strong tradition of close ties with French Gendarmerie Nationale. Most share a common view of the role and function of police in society and have similar training in the process of law and in basic respect for human rights. During the twelve months of MIPONUH’s initial mandate, the political impasse which had begun with the resignation of Prime Minister Smarth continued. President Préval made four unsuccessful attempts to nominate a new prime minister who could win the approval of Parliament, dominated by the Organization of the People in Struggle (OPL), a breakaway party from former President Aristide’s Lavalas coalition. About $1 billion in foreign aid could not be disbursed because there was no functioning government. Reform of the judicial system was stalled. An editorial in Le Matin, one of Haiti’s leading newspapers, commented: ‘Constitutional order is transformed into constitutional disorder.’17 Nature also compounded the country’s problems. In September 1998 Hurricane Georges struck Haiti, causing at least 229 deaths and making nearly 345,000 homeless. The poorest sectors of the population were the most severely affected. The HNP performed capably during the disaster and MIPONUH CIVPOL assisted with the relief effort. There was also growing concern about drug trafficking and other forms of organized crime, as well as allegations of corruption and human rights violations by the HNP. Although the mandate of MIPONUH was intended to be for a single period of twelve months, it was extended by the Security Council for another year until 30 November 1999.18

From peacekeeping to peacebuilding The aim of all peacekeeping operations must be to ensure that when the operation is completed national and local authorities can take full responsibility for their country’s peace and security. In the case of the HNP this means that the institution must be prepared to perform effectively and efficiently the tasks of maintaining order and security, as well as respecting the rule of law and human rights. It is also essential that on the eventual departure of MIPONUH, the central directorate of the HNP has a functioning capability to manage international assistance that will continue to be offered. Development aid in the form of support for the HNP must be provided in parallel with international efforts aimed at rebuilding the country’s judicial system and monitoring observance of human rights. MIPONUH is a success – so far. Working with a straightforward mandate and support from the Security Council – and the Friends of the SecretaryGeneral for Haiti – it continues to achieve positive results. This gives rise to the usual question facing the international community at the end of a UN mission. What next? In some cases this has been easy. A war has stopped; elections have been held; a referendum has taken place. But in the case of post-conflict peacebuilding operations it is clear that a machinery must be

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developed which allows the international community to remain engaged in what must be a medium- to long-term project, while allowing the Security Council to disengage. To this end, in May 1999, the Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC) established an Ad Hoc Advisory Group on Haiti to submit recommendations to the Council on how to ensure that the assistance of the international community to the Haitian government is adequate, coherent, well-coordinated and effective. It recommended the establishment of a new peacebuilding mission under the General Assembly that will continue the training and professionalization of the HNP, the promotion of human rights and consolidation of democracy. It also recommended that the RSG continue to head the political office and have the responsibility of managing any new civilian mission mandated by the United Nations. At the time of writing, a resolution was being drafted with the assistance of the Haitian government for adoption by the General Assembly to reflect the recommendations of the Advisory Group. A model might well have been found for Haiti which could provide a working template for peacebuilding elsewhere.

Conclusions The Haitian case suggests seven important lessons for the future of UN civilian policing: 1. The United Nations needs to ensure that the institutions that it is helping to create in a host country are relevant to the society which they are expected to serve. With particular reference to a police force careful consideration must be given to what people really expect of a police force. 2. Building a new national civilian police force is a lengthy and arduous enterprise. It requires sustained national and international commitment to establish one of the most vital institutions of democracy. Thus, longer mandates for UN missions are required. 3. The effectiveness of a police force depends largely on the political and social milieu within which it operates. The mandates of the civilian police operations need to be adjusted to reflect conditions in the host country. 4. The mandates of civilian police missions like all UN field operations must be clear. 5. Contributing countries must show flexibility in their national regulations and allow their civilian police to serve for longer periods in UN missions. 6. While as a rule civilian police officers or police advisers should be unarmed, in some cases it is necessary to arm police officers for selfdefence.

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7. International police personnel should speak the national language in the mission area.

Notes 1. United Nations Department of Peacekeeping Operations, Seminar on Role of Police in Peacekeeping held at Headquarters, 20–21 March, Press Release PKO/69, 25 March 1998. 2. David Nicholls, From Dessalines to Duvalier: Race, Colour and National Independence in Haiti (New Jersey: Rutgers University Press, 1996), p. 3. 3. See Hans Schmidt, The United States Occupation of Haiti, 1915–34 (New Jersey: Rutgers University Press, 1995). 4. Mats Lundahl, ‘The Haitian Dilemma Reexamined: Lessons from the Past in the Light of Some New Economic Theory’, in Rotberg (ed.), Haiti Renewed: Political and Economic Prospects (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution, 1997), p. 71. 5. For a discussion of the overthrow of President Aristide, see Robert Fatton Jr., ‘The Rise, Fall, and Resurrection of President Aristide’, in Rotberg, Haiti Renewed, pp. 136–53; and Nicholls, From Dessalines to Duvalier, xxix–xxxii. 6. In his report to the Security Council Boutros-Ghali explained that the orderly transition from the MNF to UNMIH was due to a number of factors. First, the UNMIH advance team worked effectively for five months to develop the concept of operations, force structure, deployment plans and planned the transition; second, 70 per cent of the military component of UNMIH and about 30 per cent of its civilian police component had been deployed in Haiti under the MNF, thus providing operational continuity; third, a six-day integrated staff training exercise was held in early March 1995 for the military and civilian staff of UNMIH; and finally, two tripartite meetings bringing together the government of Haiti, the MNF command and the UN helped to ‘synchronise watches’ prior to the transition. S/1995/305, 13 April 1995, para. 28. 7. S/1995/614, 24 July 1995, para. 61. 8. UNSC Resolution 1048, 29 February 1996. 9. S/1996/416, 5 June 1996. 10. S/1996/813/Add.1, 12 November 1996, para. 12. 11. S/1997/564, 19 July 1997, para. 3. 12. S/1997/832, Annex II, 31 October 1997. 13. S/1997/832, 31 October 1997, para. 39. 14. S/PRST/1997/38, 14 July 1997. 15. John Hillen, ‘Picking Up U.N. Peacekeeping’s Pieces: Knowing When to Say When’, Foreign Affairs (July/August 1998), p. 100. 16. S/1997/832/Add.1, 20 November 1997, para. 7. 17. Quoted in Herbert Gold, ‘One Step Forward and Two Steps Back, Set to the Haitian Beat’, The Washington Post (15 February 1998), p. C2. 18. UNSC Resolution 1212, 25 November 1998.

11 The Neutralization of Protracted Conflicts: The Case of UNTAC Sorpong Peou

Introduction In light of increasing revelations of human rights abuses within state boundaries, the traditional concept of state sovereignty is called into question. As a result, UN intervention in failing or failed states has become more widely accepted as an international practice.1 This chapter asks: Can the UN play a role in neutralizing protracted domestic conflicts? Structural realists would say ‘no’ to the above question. During the Cold War, Kenneth Waltz described the international political and security environment as a system of ‘self-help’.2 States were viewed as unified, sovereign and impregnable actors in international politics and pursue their own interests at the expense of others. Others have also contended that the end of the Cold War has not turned the United Nations into a more effective international organization as far as its role in conflict management (let alone conflict resolution) in the Third World is concerned.3 The logic upon which this contention rests is that intra-state conflicts ‘are mostly a function of the early stage of state making’ that cannot be resolved by regional or global external agents.4 In this chapter, the role of the UN Transitional Authority in Cambodia (UNTAC) will be analysed. To set the stage for discussion, this chapter provides a critical review of leftist, strategic, sociocultural institutionalist, and neoliberal international institutionalist perspectives. It then contends that UNTAC was the best possible solution to the Cambodian war and that peace enforcement is not the best strategy to neutralize protracted domestic conflicts. The overall thesis is that although UNTAC did not succeed to the extent that its proponents had anticipated for reasons to be explained later, the international mission managed to help turn the Cambodian battlefield into a ballot-box.

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Backdrop On 23 October 1991, after more than a decade of war, the Cambodian regime in Phnom Penh, known as the People’s Republic of Kampuchea (PRK) (later changed to State of Cambodia (SOC)), whose political party is known as the Cambodian Peoples’ Party (CPP), and the different resistance factions known collectively as the Coalition Government of Democratic Kampuchea (CGDK), signed a peace agreement to end their military confrontation. The Cambodian signatories then invited the United Nations to send a mission to their country.5 The mission’s principal objective was to create a ‘neutral political environment’ for ‘free and fair elections’. UNTAC’s ‘transitional period’, as it was known, started in November 1991 and ended in September 1993. The entire operation involved over 25,000 personnel and cost the United Nations more than US$2 billion. UNTAC is a very interesting case study in many respects because, as Simon Duke points out, dealing with intra-state conflict in the post-Cold War period is the biggest challenge facing the United Nations6 and because UNTAC was an unprecedented mission in UN history.

The case for and against UNTAC A quick review of the literature on UNTAC accomplishments reveals two different sets of perspectives: those belonging to the pessimistic camp and those that are more optimistic. The leftist, strategic and sociocultural institutionalist perspectives – all do not see any utility in the UN role in Cambodia. Neoliberal international institutionalists, however, generally agree that UNTAC is a success story. Let’s take a quick look at their arguments and assumptions. 1. UNTAC as a destabilizing intruder ‘Leftist’ historians take the position that the mission served as a destabilizing factor. Cambodia under the PRK/SOC leadership was not failing and could sustain itself as a member of the international community.7 According to Michael Vickery, for instance, the PRK/SOC regime during the 1980s was strong and its enemies were in disarray. All was well with the PRK/SOC because it adopted a constitution in 1981, elected a national assembly and developed ‘a new government structure of genuine Khmer elements, not just disguised Vietnamese’. In 1983, the PRK/SOC began to show its confidence as shown by the relaxation of the country’s political atmosphere.8 On the contrary, the CGDK, which consisted of four resistance groups, including Son Sann’s Khmer People’s National Liberation Front (KPNLF), whose political party was named the Buddhist Liberal Democratic Party (BLDP), Norodom Sihanouk’s FUNCINPEC (Front Uni National pour un Cambodge Independent, Neutre, Pacifique et Coopératif, whose

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political party bears this name), and Pol Pot’s resurrected Khmer Rouge force, could not destroy the PRK/SOC armed forces. According to leftist scholars, the comprehensive solution of the Permanent Five of the UN Security Council (P5) to the Cambodian crisis served their national interests only, not the interests of Cambodia, because their peace plan (with the aim to ‘dismantle’ the SOC) included the Khmer Rouge in the electoral process and legitimized the ‘genocidists’. In Ben Kiernan’s view, both the United States and China had a shared interest in weakening the PRK/SOC regime and minimizing Vietnamese influence in Cambodia. Michael Vickery is more explicit in his critique of the United States, strongly asserting that China was even more flexible than the United States when it came to dealing with the Cambodian crisis. ‘It is the last stage in the international campaign to destroy the PRK/SOC as part of the US vendetta against Vietnam,’ he argues.9 Without the P5 intervention, the Phnom Penh regime and non-Khmer Rouge resistance factions (FUNCINPEC and KPNLF), with the collective support of Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) countries, would have ended the war. Strategic analysts similarly contend that the UN peace plan was not the best solution for Cambodia. Gary Klintworth, for instance, asserts that ‘[what] the country probably needs is not democracy, but rather a strong, charismatic leader with a vision for a new Cambodia. The candidates that meet this requirement are Hun Sen, Pol Pot and Prince Sihanouk, but in Cambodia there is only room for one of them.’10 While theoretically more neutral than Kiernan and Vickery, Klintworth’s analysis is as critical of the UN intervention as those of the other two scholars. The United Nations further complicated the peace process because it introduced Prince Sihanouk, his sons, Son Sann and the Khmer Rouge into the equation. 2. UNTAC as an ineffective democratic intervenor Sociocultural institutionalists had also predicted disaster for the United Nations and for Cambodia. Pierre Lizée, for instance, contends the Paris Agreement is seriously flawed in that UNTAC did not achieve its main objectives in creating a ‘neutral political environment’ for free and fair elections and in ending the Cambodian war. Conceptually, the intellectual foundation upon which the UN peace plan rested fundamentally contradicted Cambodia’s political traditions characterized by ‘factional aggrandizement’ and ‘violence’. Unless or until a strengthened state structure, a cohesive administrative apparatus and a capitalist economy emerge and allow social groups to arise, a movement from violent to non-violent politics in Cambodia is not plausible.11 Lizée lists four obstacles to the Cambodian democratization process: 1) imposing what amounts to a new social contract in Cambodia will be difficult since this will involve in a short time changes which have taken

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centuries to develop in other societies; 2) the plausibility of the idea of non-violent politics in Cambodia will be difficult to establish, the social transformations necessary to allow a shift from violent politics cannot be implemented; 3) dominant groups in Cambodia will seek to challenge the reforms which endanger the social order on which their power rests; 4) these groups will exploit the uncertainty surrounding the validity of the idea of non-violent politics in the Cambodian context and try to substitute to it the concepts of peace which legitimize the social order that they want to preserve.12 Frank Frost, in agreement with Lizée, viewed the peace process at the domestic level as facing many substantial problems inherent in Cambodia’s socio economic conditions, arguing that Cambodia had not been rebuilt on solid economic foundation.13 3. UNTAC as a useful democratic seed planter The neoliberal international institutionalists put UNTAC in a much brighter light, arguing that the UN mission was not a fiasco and its role served some utility. The mission successfully managed to guide the country to democratic elections, constitutional government and international recognition. UNTAC not only succeeded in helping Cambodia ‘de-internationalize the conflict’, but it also contributed to the international isolation of the Khmer Rouge. For the first time in almost 40 years, the Cambodian people had the opportunity to choose their government freely and fairly. Findlay attributes UNTAC’s limited success to its organizational flaws. While the Khmer Rouge’s and the PRK/SOC leadership’s non-compliance with the terms of the Paris Agreements did not result from UNTAC, the way the UN authorities handled the factions was ‘a key determinant of the outcome of the Cambodian operation’.14 Although UNTAC skilfully managed to prevail over these challenges (the factions’ threats), it had ‘its own organizational flaws, especially its late deployment, poor advance planning, lackluster civil police, cursory co-ordination between UNTAC’s components, and a lack of consultation with Cambodians and NGOs at times.’ Indeed, the ‘Cambodian operation exposed significant defects in the management of peacekeeping missions by UN headquarters in New York and in the field’.15 While recognizing the utility of UN intervention in Cambodia, other scholars still insist on the limitation of UNTAC in that the mission did not enforce the peace agreement. Ramses Amer argues that ‘[from] the experiences in Cambodia it has not been sustained that the non-use of force against non-complying parties is a more effective approach than the use of force in achieving a higher degree of co-operation’. Some argue that ‘UNTAC’s reluctance to resort to armed force was further displayed in its response to attacks against the peace-keepers. The passive military attitude in many situations might have encouraged more attacks whereas a more

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stern response might have put a halt to such actions’.16 Michael Doyle argues that ‘the simplest and seemingly best explanation focuses on the unwillingness of the parties to cooperate and UNTAC’s decision not to attempt to enforce the mandate’.17 Doyle agrees with Gerard Porcell, chief of UNTAC’s Civil Administration, who attributed the problem or difficulty of implementation to the UN indecisiveness. Porcell is quoted as saying that ‘[we] [the UN] don’t have the will to apply the peace accords. This absence of firmness with the Khmer Rouge was a sort of signal for the other parties who saw there the proof of UNTAC’s weakness towards the group that from the start eschewed all cooperation.’ The international community allegedly lacked the political will to enforce the Paris Agreement: ‘Neither the majority of the P5 nor the UNTAC troop-contributing countries favored a forceful use of UNTAC’s military capacity. A number of the countries contributing troops to the mission were unwilling to engage in enforcement … some of the Southeast Asian states expressed an eagerness to accommodate the Khmer Rouge that was not shared by the other contributors’.18 Janet Heininger, while agreeing that UNTAC is a success story, contends that the use of force would have resulted in disaster. What she stresses most is the independent variables explaining the overall success: a combination of traditional peacekeeping and innovative peacebuilding. Traditional peacekeeping missions are more effective than peace enforcement missions; peace enforcement is ‘dangerous’, ‘exceedingly costly’ and ‘can be of long duration’. What she claims to have served UNTAC well is the very notion of peacebuilding. As a innovative concept, peacebuilding is a follow-up of peacekeeping and has ‘mandates that include conflict resolution’; it is nonmilitary in nature but multifaceted in character, ‘a major departure for the UN’. UNTAC performed a variety of difficult tasks: military, police, human rights, information, elections, rehabilitation, repatriation and administration. On this point she wrote: ‘experience in Cambodia suggests that peace-building may be more realistic – and perhaps more important – than peace enforcement in the post-cold war world.’19 Unlike ‘hawks’ who vehemently advocated the idea of sending UN troops to beat the Khmer Rouge into submission, Heininger argues that ‘refraining from using force was more effective in isolating the Khmer Rouge than any overt use of force’. She does not suggest, however, that UNTAC’s military presence was of no use at all. In her view, ‘UNTAC’s military presence discouraged the [Cambodian] parties from resuming combat and gave Cambodia nearly two years of breathing room for political development. By providing an internationally sanctioned time-out from fighting, UNTAC reinforced the people’s desire for peace.’20

Explaining UNTAC’s limited success What are the criteria for judging UNTAC’s success and failure? The term ‘success’ itself is problematic. As already discussed, some scholars castigated

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UNTAC and considered the mission unaccomplished. Others argue that although UNTAC did not accomplish every goal it had set, it did more good than harm. For our purposes here success is defined in relative terms and identified with progress replete with setbacks and forward development. Without UNTAC, the Cambodia war would have remained protracted. The ASEAN as a regional organization would not have been able to neutralize the conflict. Had UNTAC resorted to force as the strategy to punish the Khmer Rouge’s non-cooperation, it is likely that the entire mission would have ended badly. Another observation is that UNTAC’s lack of military enforcement role was more of a blessing than a curse. Problematic with Doyle’s call for UN firmness is that it is unclear how firm UNTAC could have been. On the one hand, he argues, ‘UNTAC could have pushed through the Khmer Rouge’s flimsy lines.’ On the other hand, he acknowledges that ‘we shall recall the mighty Vietnamese army [which] was incapable of defeating the KR after more than ten years of warfare’.21 Thus, the historical evidence justifies Heininger’s assertion that the use of military force against the Khmer Rouge would have been counterproductive. While it has merit, Heininger’s study also falls short of explaining why the Khmer Rouge chose to disarm and stayed out of the electoral process altogether. Her argument that UNTAC refraining from the use of force helped to isolate the Khmer Rouge does not reveal much about UNTAC’s political intentions. Surely UNTAC did not provoke them into open war. But the decision by the members of the Khmer Rouge to isolate themselves requires further explanation. Was such isolation the best way out? Could UNTAC have tried harder to keep them in or put them back on track? Findlay argues that better organization would have helped UNTAC to perform more effectively. Michael Doyle adds that UNTAC could have taken a tougher stand by enforcing the UN mandate. I contend that while better organization would have aided the effort, a military enforcement role would have made things worse. What needs to be understood is not why the Cambodian factions were unwilling to cooperate with UNTAC but why they felt unable to do so. Blind cooperation put the factions at security risk. Among the Cambodian factions, the PRK/SOC showed more willingness than any other party to participate in the elections. FUNCINPEC also seemed to be less willing to participate in the elections. None the less, the party leadership was increasingly unhappy with ongoing security developments, especially in the last few months leading up to the elections when the SOC security force increased its attacks on FUNCINPEC members. The BLDP almost called it quits when Son Sann questioned the possibility of UNTAC being able to create a neutral political environment for free and fair elections. With the Khmer Rouge unwilling to disarm, the demobilization process failed miserably. Why did the Khmer Rouge refuse to disarm and decide just weeks before the elections to withdraw from the electoral race?

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From the beginning to the end of the transitional period, the Khmer Rouge demonstrated a noticeable degree of willingness to participate in the general elections. According to Nate Thayer and Stephen Heder, they were prepared to participate in the elections.22 What surprised many analysts is that they never attempted seriously to disrupt the elections. This is not to suggest that the Khmer Rouge was better than any other party. Evidence of their violations of the Paris Agreement abounds; there is no question about it. Their hostilities towards the UN authorities increased to the point where they captured UN personnel and held them hostage. Overall, evidence points to the Khmer Rouge’s unwillingness to cooperate with UNTAC and to comply with the terms of the Paris Agreement.

Factors shaping the Khmer Rouge perceptions and actions Although the UNTAC arguably performed its tasks in an impartial manner, all the factions complained about impartiality at some point. However, the Khmer Rouge raised the most complaints about the lack of UN impartiality. Why the Khmer Rouge were unwilling to stick to the Paris Agreements requires further explanation. As already shown, there was no adequate guarantee given to ensure their security when their leadership arrived in Phnom Penh. In the Khmer Rouge’s opinion, UNTAC’s neutrality was questionable. UNTAC failure to gain control of the country resulted in its too great dependence on the cooperation of SOC, which controlled 80 per cent of the country; UNTAC did not negotiate with the SOC.23 While UNTAC may have performed in an impartial manner, it is clear that the UNSC did not appear impartial. According to Michael Doyle: ‘Other powers, such as the US, occasionally meddled with inappropriate publicity in the internal politics of Cambodia; in June 1993, for example, US diplomats publicly threatened the tottering interim government with a loss of US aid if it brought leaders of the Khmer Rouge into an association with the government’.24 None the less, Doyle overlooks, perhaps due to the limited scope of his work, the very fact that some P5 members were not as neutral and impartial (with respect to the Paris Agreement) as they should have been. To expand Doyle’s point on foreign meddling in Cambodia’s domestic affairs, France, the United States and Russia were far from being neutral and impartial. Russia was a natural ally of the PRK/SOC. France’s foreign policy towards Cambodia was far from impartial. French President François Mitterrand’s widely quoted January 1990 Declaration that ‘no compromise is acceptable with the Khmer Rouge’ was further echoed by UNAMIC’s Military Chief (French General Jean-Michel Loridon) who made known his willingness to sacrifice a number of his UN troops to coax the Khmer Rouge into complying with the Paris Agreement. Apparently, France encouraged the alliance between the FUNCINPEC and the SOC – a political

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development considered by General Sanderson as one of the first instances that corrupted the peace process. According to one Cambodian analyst, France was also ‘eager to re-establish its influence in Cambodia and Vietnam’. Consequently, ‘it condemned the Khmer Rouge and was cool towards the KPNLF but fairly supportive of FUNCINPEC.’ Furthermore, ‘it was keen to see co-operation between Sihanouk and Hun Sen … [and] became increasingly supportive of the SOC. It [was] the first country to give official aid to the SOC and to send its highest-ranking foreign ministry official to Phnom Penh before the signing of the Peace Agreement.’25 Perhaps the most important country that shaped the Khmer Rouge perception of a lack of impartiality was the United States. Arguably, Washington worked to undermine the PRK/SOC faction by supporting the Khmer Rouge throughout the 1980s and by including them in the Paris Agreement. There can be no doubt that Washington did not wish to see the SOC remain dominant in Cambodian politics. But this analysis, however, seriously overlooks the very fact that Washington shifted its policy towards Cambodia in the direction against the Khmer Rouge and in favour of the SOC since July 1990. It was not Washington that wanted the Khmer Rouge in; it was China that objected to any attempts to exclude the Khmer Rouge from the peace process. The very day the Paris Agreement was signed, 23 October 1991, US Secretary of State James Baker made known for the first time that his government intended to support a new Cambodian government and the idea that the Khmer Rouge leadership must be brought to justice for its crimes against humanity. After the elections, Washington kept threatening the coalition government with a loss of aid if the latter compromised with the Khmer Rouge.26 Foreign governments were not the only actors that wanted the Khmer Rouge leaders punished. The calls by NGOs for retributive justice with respect to the Khmer Rouge leaders were overwhelming. Thus, the mounting challenges facing the Khmer Rouge during the transitional period arose not only from UNTAC’s under-performance, but also from the assertion of other nations’ interests. On paper, the Khmer Rouge were legitimized by the Paris Agreement; in reality, however, their crimes were neither forgiven nor forgotten. Their decision not to disarm and participate in the elections must rest on the logic that electoral success was unlikely and that future prosecution for crimes against humanity was likely.

Positive UN legacy in Cambodia? UNTAC’s success cannot be measured only by what the mission managed to complete during the period it was in Cambodia. A look at the postUNTAC period sheds light on the utility of the UN role in protracted wars. Not everything has gone well for the post-UNTAC Cambodia. That is why the pessimists continue to see everything after the elections in gloomy

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terms. The Cambodian elites continue to frustrate the process of democratization by containing opposition challenges. It is difficult for democracy to emerge when large sections of the state apparatus are still above the rule of law and unwilling to ensure private property and voting rights. This argument is largely based on the problem of deteriorating economic conditions still facing Cambodia. Without economic development, in other words, there is no hope for democracy. Not everyone shares a pessimistic assessment of Cambodia’s progress to date. Recently, Phnom Penh has been successful in promoting economic stabilization and growth.27 Another quick look at the post-conflict Cambodian economy reveals some encouraging signs. GDP growth for 1995 was about 7.5 per cent. For 1996 and 1997, the government aimed at achieving an average growth rate of 7.5 per cent. The World Bank predicted an annual average growth rate to be about 7.1 per cent for the 1996–2000 period and around 6.5 per cent from 2001 to 2005.28 Inflation rates dropped from 112 per cent in 1993, to 26.1 per cent in 1994, and to only 3.5 per cent in 1995 (lower than the official forecast of 5–6 per cent inflation rate). It was estimated that inflation rates for 1996 and 1997 were roughly the same as that in 1995 or a bit higher.29 On foreign trade, Cambodia is also making headway. In 1995, total exports increased ninefold compared to those in the preceding year (with garment as the main export).30 The economy has also benefited from tourist and business arrivals and foreign investment projects. The year 1995 saw about 220,000 foreign visitors in Cambodia, an increase of 24 per cent compared with 1994. In the first six months of 1996, the number of people arriving in Cambodia rose by 28.6 per cent to 123,399. In April 1996, approximately US$400 million was reported to have been approved for investment in the tourism industry. This is not to suggest that Cambodia is catching up fast with other newly industrializing countries. Cambodia still depends on foreign aid, and its trade deficit continues to rise. In July 1996, at the third International Committee on the Reconstruction of Cambodia (ICORC), Phnom Penh asked for US$1 billion for the next three years (about US$550 million per year). While the international community pledged another US$700 million, Cambodia was looking for another $900 million.31 Although aid-dependent, the Cambodian economy is not stagnant. Another look at a string of recent events in Cambodia reveals some hopeful signs of trends towards peace and stability. Since the elections in May 1993, the coalition government formed by the major competing political parties (BLDP, FUNCINPEC and the CPP) has not collapsed. Although intracoalition tensions ran high between March and June 1996, the political alliance remained intact. In the first three years, the new government remained intact and structurally unchanged: the various ministries were still under the leadership of the same ministers. Norodom Ranaridh and

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Hun Sen remained first and second prime ministers respectively; the two deputy prime ministers were Ing Kieth (FUNCINPEC) and Sar Kheng (CPP). The 13 key government ministries and five secretaries remained untouched. Today, two ‘governments’ in Cambodia, the CGDK and the PRK, compete for internal legitimacy and international recognition. The CGDK is a tripartite coalition consisting of Party of Democratic Kampuchea (PDK), or Khmer Rouge, and two non-communist movements, the KPNLF and FUNCINPEC. The CGDK is recognized internationally by the United Nations and a few non-communist states; yet it controls little territory except inaccessible guerrilla areas in northeastern and southwestern Cambodia. It also administers some camps along Thai border. The PRK constitutes the de facto government in Phnom Penh, exercising control over most of Cambodian territory. However, it is recognized internationally by only about three dozen Marxist and non-aligned states and revolutionary movements. The reality is that the opposition coalition partners exist in an uneasy alliance, united only by opposition to Vietnamese occupation forces and the government in Phnom Penh.

Conclusion Put in the context of Cambodia’s history, present conditions and future possibilities, UNTAC was only a qualified success. The UN mission would have been enhanced by more effective organization and coordination. Perhaps the greatest lesson to be drawn from the Cambodian experience is how the nature of domestic conflict ought to be understood. Many scholars tend to use power as their conceptual tool for conflict analysis or simply view cultural determinism and ideological fanaticism as independent variables to explain success or failure as their dependent variables. We need to go beyond, however, the unadorned concept of power, get away from politicization of issues (like genocide), go underneath these independent variables (i.e. power), and instead see them as dependent. We need to ask why and when do people use violence to gain power? Security needs, when unmet, can drive violent behaviour, something which is usually understood as the lust for power. To blame the Khmer Rouge for non-compliance with the Paris Agreement and for non-cooperation with UNTAC without fully understanding their insecurity dilemma is politically convenient and intellectually short-sighted. The literature on political violence warns against such analytical simplicity.32 A better way to understand conflict of a protracted nature is to appreciate the fact that the adversaries are caught in what can be called an ‘insecurity dilemma’ – a security situation in which they are driven into doing all they can to preserve themselves at the expense of those perceived to be their enemies. In this situation, the UN has a role to play: it can act as a legitimate authority capable of acting decisively and impartially – a good

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combination that helps create a positive image necessary for the adversaries’ cooperation33 with the aim to guarantee the warring parties that they can rest assured that their security interests not being sacrificed. For it to be effective, the UN peace role should be more preventive and protective than punitive.34 This insight does not in any way suggest that there is no room for coercion, but coercion should be applied only to the extent that the target party will not perceive its vulnerability to be unacceptably high or that its security interest is not being sacrificed. This is what conflict neutralization is all about: a process whereby domestic conflict can be rendered inactive by the UN playing the role of a legitimate third-party authority (backed by a collective but impartial Security Council) to turn the battlefield into a ballot-box.

Notes 1. G. Helman and S. Ratner, ‘Saving Failed States’, Foreign Policy, 89 (Winter 1992–93), pp. 3–30. 2. Kenneth Waltz, Theory of International Politics (Reading, Mass.: Addison-Wesley, 1979). 3. Some scholars warn of the perils of military intervention in ethnic conflict. See William A. Stofft and Gary L. Guertner, ‘Ethnic Conflict: The Perils of Military Intervention’, Parameters (Spring 1995), pp. 30–42. Joseph R. Rudolph, ‘Intervention in Communal Conflict’, Orbis (Spring 1995), pp. 259–73. 4. Mohammed Ayoob, The Third World Security Predicament: State Making, Regional Conflict, and the International System (Boulder, Col.: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1995), p. 158. 5. This chapter is not intended to provide a detailed background to the Cambodia conflict and the negotiation process leading to the signing of the Paris Agreement in October 1991. For background analysis, see Ramses Amer, Johan Saravanamuttu and Peter Wallensteen, From Intervention to Resolution (Penang, Malaysia: Sinaran Bros Sdn. Berhad, 1996); Amitav Acharya, Pierre Lizée and Sorpong Peou, (eds), Cambodia – the 1989 Paris Peace Conference: Background Analysis and Documents (Millwood, NY: Kraus International Publications, 1991); Sorpong Peou, Conflict Neutralization in the Cambodia War: From Battlefield to Ballot-box (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia: Oxford University Press, 1997), chapter 1. 6. S. Duke, ‘The United Nations and Intra-state Conflict’, International Peacekeeping, 1, 4 (Winter 1994), pp. 375–93. 7. B. Kiernan, ‘Introduction’, in B. Kiernan (ed.), Genocide and Democracy in Cambodia: The Khmer Rouge, the United Nations and the International Community (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1993), p. 18. 8. M. Vickery, Cambodia: A Political Survey (Australia: The Department of Political and Social Change, Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies, Australian National University, No. 14, 1994), p. 2. 9. Ibid., p. 1. 10. G. Klintworth, Cambodia’s Past, Present, and Future (Canberra: Australian National University, Working Paper No. 268, March 1993), p. 21. 11. P. Lizée, Building Peace: The Challenges and Contradictions of the Cambodian Peace Process (PhD Dissertation, York University, September 1995).

UNTAC 161 12. Italics added. Ibid., pp. 3–4. 13. Frank Frost, The Peace Process in Cambodia: Issues and Prospects (Australia: Faculty of Asian and International Studies, Centre for the Study of Australia-Asia Relations, Australia-Asia Papers, No. 69, October 1993), p. 1. 14. Ibid., p. 155. 15. Ibid. 16. R. Amer, Peace-keeping in a Peace Process: The Case of Cambodia (Uppsala, Sweden: Uppsala University, 1995), p. 65. 17. M. Doyle, UN Peacekeeping in Cambodia: UNTAC’s Civil Mandate (Boulder, Col.: Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc., 1985), p. 66. 18. Ibid., pp. 67–8. 19. Janet Heininger, Peacekeeping in Transition: The United Nations in Cambodia (New York: Twentieth Century Fund Press, 1994), p. 7. 20. Ibid., p. 137. 21. Doyle, UN Peacekeeping in Cambodia: UNTAC’s Civil Mandate, p. 67. 22. See Sorpong Peou, Conflict Neutralization in the Cambodia War, p. 270. 23. Doyle, UN Peacekeeping in Cambodia, p. 68. 24. Ibid., p. 65. 25. M. H. Lao, ‘Obstacles to Peace in Cambodia’, Pacific Review, 6, 4 (1993), p. 389. 26. Sorpong Peou, ‘Cambodia’s Post-Cold War Dilemma: Democratization, Armed Conflict, and Authoritarianism’, Southeast Asian Affairs (1996), p. 141. 27. R. Bruce St John, ‘The Political Economy of the Royal Government of Cambodia’, Contemporary Southeast Asia, 17, 3 (December 1995), p. 265. 28. EIU (Economist Intelligence Unit) Country Report, ‘Cambodia’ (3rd quarter 1996), p. 14. 29. EIU Country Report, ‘Cambodia’ (3rd quarter 1996), p. 4; (4th quarter 1996), p. 9. 30. The government was planning to export rice, for the first time in 25 years. The 1996 target for the export of rice was 120,000 tons. Garment sales to the European Union, from which Cambodia obtained Generalised Systems of Preferences (GSP), increased tenfold in the last few years, from only US$8 million in 1994 to US$78.2 million during the first 11 months of 1996. 31. EIU Country Report, ‘Cambodia’ (3rd quarter 1996), p. 5. 32. Sorpong Peou, ‘The Cambodian State, Regime Insecurity, and Preemptive Violence’ Paper presented at the conference on ‘Cambodia: Power, Myth and Memory’, 11–13 December 1996, Monash University, Australia. 33. For the UN to be effective, it must be professionalized, streamlined and provided with resources adequate to carry out its tasks. Barry Blechman, ‘The Intervention Dilemma’, Washington Quarterly, 18, 3 (Summer 1995), pp. 63–73. Adequate performance will add to the adversaries’ perceptions of security and will encourage their cooperation with the United Nations, thus making the organization’s efforts more effective. According to Ingrid Lehmann, the UN operations in Yugoslavia and Somalia did not go very well because they failed to obtain support from influential segments of the population. Lehmann, however, argues that the more successful UN operations in Namibia and Cambodia benefited from strong information programmes. I. Lehmann, ‘Public Perceptions of UN Peacekeeping: a Factor in the Resolution of International Conflicts’, The Fletcher Forum of World Affairs, 19, 1 (Winter–Spring 1995), pp. 109–19. While this may be true in the case of Cambodia, the Khmer Rouge did not have any positive image of UNTAC and the Security Council.

162 Sorpong Peou 34. In this context, the preventive nature of UN peace-oriented activity should be compatible with former UN Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjöld’s imaginative concept of preventive diplomacy as opposed to former US President Woodrow Wilson’s concept of collective security with punitive measures in mind. For differences between preventive diplomacy and collective security, see W. Andy Knight and Mari Yamashita, ‘The United Nations’ Contribution to International Peace and Security’, in David Dewitt et al. (eds.), Building a New Global Order: Emerging Trends in International Security (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1993), especially pp. 330–1.

12 Pivots of Peace: UN Transitional Operations David R. Black

Introduction An ambitious innovation in the United Nations’ post-Cold War peace and security ‘arsenal’ has been the development of multifaceted transitional operations. Beginning with the Transition Assistance Group (UNTAG) in Namibia, a number of roughly comparable operations have been conceived in such diverse locations as Cambodia, Central America, Angola, Haiti and Mozambique. Although the scope and scale of these schemes have varied markedly, they have included efforts to assist in disarming warring parties, ‘demilitarizing’ zones of conflict, and reconstituting post-settlement defence forces; resettling refugees displaced by the conflict; improving human rights conditions and enforcing civil order; supervising or directly administering key functions of government in the transitional phase; organizing post-conflict reconstruction/development assistance initiatives; and most conspicuously, organizing or supervising democratic electoral exercises to legitimate new civilian regimes. Thus, these operations fall squarely within the ambit of what former UN Secretary-General Boutros-Ghali defined as ‘peacebuilding’: ‘action to identify and support structures which will tend to strengthen and solidify peace in order to avoid a relapse into conflict’.1 In this respect, they are analytically distinct from the growing array of UN peacekeeping and ‘peace enforcement’ operations from Bosnia to Somalia by the fact that they are centrally concerned with the more ‘positive’ tasks of consolidating progress after a diplomatic settlement has been reached. Given their ambitious and multidimensional scope and mandates, moreover, such transitional operations can be conceived as perching paradoxically on the cusp between modernity and postmodernity, as defined in the introduction to this volume. In the spirit of postmodernity, they reject ‘envelop’ approaches to problem-solving and conflict resolution, embracing instead more holistic and integrated conceptions of peace and security. They are fundamentally concerned with addressing the relationship between 163

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states and their societies, and in bringing together various domestic, international and transnational ‘partners’ in pursuit of reconstruction and reconstitution. Yet in the spirit of modernity, they may also betray a rather grand conceit that we in the ‘international community’ have the knowledge and capacity to rebuild whole states and societies; that we have the tools to set them firmly on the path of ‘progress’ towards liberal democracy; and that all this can be achieved, or at least decisively initiated, in an extraordinarily brief period of historical time. How viable are these operations as vehicles for peacebuilding, or regional ‘pivots of peace’?2 How realistic are their aspirations, and how widely might they be used? The conclusions reached on these questions are, at best, ambiguous and somewhat pessimistic. While the number of areas in which variations on this model could be used is growing,3 optimism is hard to muster, especially in light of the experiences of the cases focused on in this chapter. On the evidence emerging from these cases, the chances that this model will be widely and effectively used are not high. Proliferating costs, ‘peacekeeping fatigue’, an increasingly self-absorbed posture on the part of the world’s major powers, and continuing problems of inefficiency and ad hocery associated with UN operations are among the related factors acting to limit the range and/or effectiveness of transitional operations. On the other hand, the potential of such operations to remove loci of regional conflict and facilitate broader processes of accommodation and development is clear, and has been reflected in real (if fragile) successes in, for example, Mozambique and El Salvador. This potential was and/or is evident in the UN mission in Namibia (UNTAG). If this potential is to be approached, more efficient, routinized and securely financed UN modalities for transitional operations are required. So is greater selectivity in deciding where, and on what terms, the United Nations should agree to mount such operations; and greater political sophistication, rooted in a frank understanding of accumulating historical lessons, in their implementation. Even then, it must be accepted that these ambitious exercises, often aspiring to nothing less than substantial reconstructive social engineering,4 will rarely succeed spectacularly, and only sometimes succeed substantially. Indeed, a fundamental, and unresolved, question posed by the subject matter of this chapter concerns the circumstances under which the United Nations, or any other external agency, can ‘lead’ in a transition to peace and democracy where the former has been long absent, and the latter may have never existed. The analysis which follows proceeds from an extended discussion of the prototypical (though in important respects unique) UN transitional operation in Namibia. While recognizing UNTAG’s impressive success in achieving its primary objectives, it will be argued that the operation as a whole featured ‘a disturbingly high ratio of good luck to good management’.5

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It then seeks to isolate and identify the conditions which allowed UNTAG to succeed, despite problems of delay, improvisation, and ad hocery.

UNTAG: a tenuous success The UNTAG operation was one of the largest, most expensive and most innovative of UN operations.6 It included large military peacekeeping and logistics components (some 4,493 personnel in all); police monitors eventually numbering 1,500; some 885 electoral supervisors; and an international headquarters staff of 450 performing electoral, administrative and information functions. The entire operation was led by the SecretaryGeneral’s Special Representative (SR) for Namibia, Martti Ahtisaari, a veteran UN official. Its functions included the virtual demilitarization of the country; ‘supervising and controlling’ the activities of the South African Administrator-General and territorial bureaucracy during the transition, including the repeal of repressive statutes and release of political prisoners, the maintenance of law and order, voter registration, arrangements for the polling itself, and the drafting of electoral laws for the Constituent Assembly elections; certification of the election results as to whether they were ‘free and fair’, and coordinating with Pretoria and the Constituent Assembly arrangements for independence. Closely related were the UN High Commissioner for Refugees’ (UNHCR’s) US$38 million operation for the return of some 41,000 refugees, and the UN Development Program’s (UNDP’s) initiative to organize an international aid effort for post-independence reconstruction and development. At its peak, UNTAG included 8,000 personnel from more than 120 countries, not including the myriad international non-governmental and press observers.7 A longtime concern for the United Nations, the settlement plan by which UNTAG was constituted (embodied in UNSC resolution 435), had been in place since 1978, although some fine-tuning had occurred subsequently, along with the US-instigated linkage of the withdrawal of Cuban troops from Angola to the independence of Namibia. Thus, nothing less than the collective prestige of the UN system was implicated in the settlement operation when it finally began. The outcome of the operation was highly successful in achieving a fair and legitimate democratic electoral exercise and giving a clean launch to Namibia’s political independence. Despite some problems, including instances of violence and intimidation and media bias, the election campaign was conducted in an increasingly open and peaceful atmosphere.8 The outcome produced a clear majority of 57 per cent of the vote for the erstwhile liberation movement SWAPO, translating into 41 seats in the 72seat Assembly. The main opposition party, the DTA, obtained 21 seats. Furthermore, despite widespread apprehensions concerning the potential for opposition obstructionism, the subsequent constitution-making process

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was conducted in a remarkable spirit of cooperation and compromise. The country proceeded smoothly to independence on 21 March 1990 with a model liberal democratic constitution. None of this ensures the long-term sustainability of democratic political norms in Namibia. Nor did it assure the fulfilment of the related imperatives of generating rapid economic and employment growth, while addressing the gross racially-based disparities bequeathed by South African rule. Indeed, the transitional operation was largely ‘superstructural’ in the Marxian sense, leaving underlying structural and conjunctural constraints to challenge the new Namibian government.9 Nevertheless, it clearly gave the country a fighting chance of attaining relative peace, democracy and development over the long term. The Namibian transition also had a positive impact on the regional situation, facilitating the peace process in Angola, and providing an important stimulus by example to the reform process in South Africa.10 As subsequent developments in Angola demonstrate, the success of the Namibian transition by no means assured the success of these wider and more complex regional developments. But without it, these opportunities for peace might not have emerged at all. Finally, and perhaps counter-productively with hindsight, the UNTAG’s success contributed significantly to the (temporary) ‘renaissance’ of the UN itself. It contributed to what Boutros-Ghali described as a crisis of ‘overcredibility’ in the early 1990s, during which Security Council members placed mounting and irresponsible demands on an increasingly overburdened organization.11 At the time, however, UNTAG buoyed morale among UN personnel, while serving as a model for other transitional and ‘peacebuilding’ operations. It demonstrated the United Nations’ capacity for flexibility and innovation. Conversely, a failure on UNTAG’s part would have dealt a significant blow to the organization’s prestige, given the attention and resources it had focused on Namibia over the years. Nevertheless, UNTAG’s success was tenuous. As suggested, the operation was marked by an unacceptably high ratio of good luck to good management. Furthermore, partly due to the remarkable success of the operation’s final outcome, ‘the history of UNTAG remains sanitized, and the obscured facts of sanitized history hinder operational improvement’.12 It is appropriate, therefore, to engage in some constructive desanitization of the UNTAG story. UNTAG desanitized Even a cursory analysis reveals some significant difficulties with the UN role in the Namibian transition.13 Some of these are related to the compromise terms of the settlement plan itself. Some can be put down to the inevitable learning process which accompanies innovative initiatives – although the question then becomes how much, and how well, the lessons

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of UNTAG have been learned. Finally, some of the problems with the operation have been endemic to UN initiatives of various kinds, and have foreshadowed failures in more challenging circumstances. A number of difficulties with the process, some very serious, arose from the compromise at the heart of the transition plan, whereby day-to-day responsibility for administering the country and ensuring law and order were left in the hands of the South African-appointed AdministratorGeneral (AG) and his territorial bureaucracy, including the South West Africa Police (SWAPOL). UNTAG’s role was one of supervision and control. Given the unwillingness of the Western negotiators of the transition plan14 to use coercive measures, notably sanctions, to try to enforce South African compliance with their proposals, the compromise was inevitable. South Africa would not have voluntarily agreed to a transition plan led by what it perceived as a biased and hostile United Nations had it not retained administrative responsibility for the territory. The United Nations’ role was poorly understood by many Namibians, and the division of responsibility led to a constant string of disputes and delays among the AG’s staff and their UN counterparts.15 Most seriously, and tragically, this division of responsibility compounded the consequences of the SWAPO military wing’s ill-considered attempt to infiltrate some 1,000 of their number into northern Namibia on the eve of the transition period (1 April 1989). Although UNTAG officials later judged that the incursion was not hostile in intent, it clearly violated the terms of the transition agreement. Thus, SR Ahtisaari was faced with the excruciating dilemma of allowing the release of South African forces to combat the incursion or risk jeopardizing the whole operation. Choosing the former, he could then do little beyond attempting to persuade the South Africans to moderate their response. Some 300–400 SWAPO cadres were killed in the fighting that ensued, and UNTAG’s credibility suffered a near-fatal blow among the Namibian citizenry.16 However, while the bloodiness of these events was compounded by the UN–South African division of responsibility, it is conceivable that it could have been avoided altogether had not the United Nations been so tardy in deploying its units. The problems and frustrations associated with the division of responsibility might be taken to imply a simple solution: the UN should take charge of key administrative and law and order functions in any future transitional operations. This is, in fact, what it was tasked to do in Cambodia. However, such a ‘solution’ is not always possible or appropriate. For one thing, there are likely to be other situations like the Namibian one where it is not possible to reach a negotiated agreement in which all parties agree to turn over the dominant administrative role to the United Nations. For another, taking on such responsibilities adds a major administrative and financial burden to the UN operation, and exposes UN personnel to the full force of popular resentment when things go wrong. Thus, the decision

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concerning how much administrative responsibility to take on in a given transitional operation must be evaluated on a situational basis, and UN planners should develop models incorporating several options. A number of further difficulties associated with the process arose from misplaced assessments of personnel requirements. While some of these could not reasonably have been anticipated, others could and should have been. In the former category, one of the key lessons of the UNTAG experience was the importance of securing civil order in transitional operations, and the utility of international police monitors for this purpose.17 UNTAG increased its police component twice from the initial complement of 500 to the final total of 1,500. These monitors played a very important role in securing the ‘climate of confidence’ necessary for the elections to succeed. In the category of obvious but unrecognized personnel needs, the United Nations appears to have been poorly prepared for the task of designing and supervising a ‘free and fair’ electoral process.18 Given the centrality of a credible electoral exercise to transitional operations in Namibia and elsewhere, it is vital that the United Nations continues to develop a body of expertise in this area. Indeed, the United Nations and other international and non-governmental organizations have subsequently developed considerable experience and a roster of veteran participants in such exercises. Nevertheless, there continues to be a significant disjunction between the growing international acceptance of the norm of democratization, in the Western liberal-democratic sense, and the still limited experience with this norm in practice. Problems with personnel decisions lead to a broader set of criticisms of the UNTAG operation which can be related to the United Nations’ organization and standard modes of operation. In general, the process was marked by a high degree of improvisation. There were also crucial delays. These were, in turn, related to the diffuse bureaucratic structure of the United Nations, with multiple and competing centres of authority, and to its ‘sovereignty-bound’ nature.19 As Weiss and Chopra point out, had it not been for the fact that the atmosphere in which UNTAG operated proved ultimately to be relatively supportive and benign, the delays and improvised arrangements could well have proved fatal.20 The best example in this regard is the initial delay in deploying UN forces in the country at the start of the transition. The causes of the delay were rooted in the sovereignty-bound nature of UN decision-making, and the organization’s lack of financial and logistical autonomy and flexibility. Beginning in December 1988, deployment was delayed by a series of disputes among UN member states over the size of UNTAG’s military component, whether it should be allowed to procure equipment in South Africa, and who would be responsible for the logistical preparations for the arrival of the various national contingents (which ultimately had to scramble to make their own arrangements). By the time the 1 April transition period

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began, deployment was six weeks behind schedule. Consequently, among other things, the United Nations was unable to monitor and deter SWAPO movements over the border from Angola, or even to question South African intelligence concerning SWAPO movements. This set the stage for the tragic events of the next several weeks.21 Whether the United Nations could have prevented the ensuing crisis is uncertain, but it would have been better positioned to control the damage. As it was, UNTAG began the transition period with a serious credibility deficit. Over time, it was able to overcome this deficit and ultimately attained a reasonably high degree of respect among most Namibians. It was able to do so partly on the strength of its own performance (which varied in quality from one area of the country to another, but was in some cases very high), and partly through its own extensive information campaign. For, despite the budget paring prior to 1 April, the final budget of US$416 million was still prodigious for a 12-month operation in a country of 1.5 million.22 It was a Cadillac-class operation, and there was ample room for spending on information and propaganda. UNTAG’s information arm produced over 200 radio broadcasts in multiple languages, 32 television programmes and over 590,000 separate information items.23 This effort was very useful both in restoring UNTAG’s image, and in persuading Namibians that their vote would be secret and the process free and fair. However, this information effort, and indeed the operation as a whole, was on a financial scale which could not be matched in most subsequent, more ‘ordinary’ transitional operations in larger countries – nor should it be. For, along with UNTAG’s good work, there was also a high degree of conspicuous consumption and waste, of an order which could (and to a degree did) breed strong local resentments. UN vehicles proliferated; per diems were unnecessarily ample; and underemployed military personnel made a substantial contribution to the local economy of holiday centres such as Swakopmund, as well as the capital, Windhoek. This is the flipside of the United Nations’ lack of financial flexibility and autonomy: there are also real problems controlling waste and ensuring accountability. An increase in the former must be accompanied by a commensurate improvement in the latter. In sum, UNTAG’s achievements should not be allowed to mask problems of delay, ad hocery and accountability. As suggested above, had the conditions surrounding the transition not been so propitious, it is likely that the operation would have foundered. What then were these conditions which allowed UNTAG to succeed despite its problems? The conditions of success A virtuous confluence of conditions buttressed the successful outcome of the Namibian transition. These can be divided into two categories: those that were unique to the Namibian case; and those that were more

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generalizable and could serve as indicators of the prospects for success of other transitional operations. A unique feature of the Namibian case supporting a successful outcome was the fact that it had been an issue at the United Nations since its inception, growing in prominence in the post-decolonization era.24 The United Nations had a legal and moral responsibility for the territory, but had been consistently thwarted by South Africa in its efforts to fulfil this responsibility. Through a series of legal and political initiatives in the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s, the ‘Namibian Question’ had consistently loomed large in UN deliberations, and the world body was not about to let its opportunity to shepherd the territory to independence slip away. It assembled a team which included some of its best people and approved a reduced but still ample budget to try to ensure that the opportunity was not lost. Second, the Namibian issue was intimately linked to the international campaign against apartheid in South Africa – one of the most popular and emotive causes of the post-decolonization period. Most Namibians were innocent victims of apartheid laws and social structures. Thus, the cause of Namibian independence became a vital component of the wider fight against apartheid. When independence came within view, it drew the attention of the whole international anti-apartheid spectrum: solidarity groups, NGOs, church groups, trades unions, ‘progressive’ political parties, and so on. These groups kept a close watch on the transition process, mostly for signs of South African duplicity, but also of UNTAG acquiescence and inefficiency.25 Most improprieties were quickly identified and publicized, while any attempt to postpone or even scuttle the process would have been met by a wave of adverse publicity which the South African government was particularly keen to avoid. These various NGO actors, in conjunction with the international media, provided an informal but highly effective means of holding both South Africa and UNTAG accountable. The more generalizable conditions supporting the operation fall into four categories: the disposition of major global powers; the disposition of key regional actors; the attitude of key actors and forces within the country; and the credibility and effectiveness of the transitional operation itself. The relevant global powers in the Namibian case were the two then superpowers. The United States stands accused of introducing a confounding element into the negotiations in the early 1980s, by insisting on the linkage of the implementation of Resolution 435 to the withdrawal of Cuban troops from Angola. However, Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs Chester Crocker had been deeply preoccupied with achieving a settlement in southwestern Africa throughout his eight-year tenure.26 With the changing conjuncture of the late 1980s, he was able to mediate and drive the intensive trilateral (Angola, South Africa and Cuba) negotiation process which led to the New York Accords of December 1988, and thence to UNTAG.

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The Soviet Union, meanwhile, had significantly modified its thinking concerning regional conflict in southern Africa and elsewhere in the latter part of the 1980s. Previously a staunch and uncompromising supporter of the ‘revolutionary’ regime in Angola and of liberation movements engaged in armed struggle in the region, including SWAPO, Moscow had shifted its stance to one of seeking to sustain its position and role in regional politics at reduced cost ‘through the exploration of political settlements to regional problems’.27 The upshot was that the USSR placed subtle pressure on its allies in the region to reach an accommodation, and participated in the tripartite negotiations as an observer.28 The Namibian peace and transition process was underpinned, then, by a powerful confluence of interests among the major global powers of the day. Concerning the disposition of key regional actors, the war-weary Angolan government had moved towards an acceptance of the impossibility of military victory in its own debilitating conflict with South African-supported UNITA, and had become amenable to linkage if it could lead to an end to the fighting. Cuba, which had supported the MPLA government of Angola since 1975 with up to 50,000 troops, had made a major contribution to strategic military advances against South African and UNITA forces during 1988, and was prepared to depart on this high note.29 Most interesting, and critical, was the position of South Africa. For years, the white minority regime in Pretoria had played a frustrating diplomaticcum-military game over Namibia, first cooperating with, and then undermining, the international settlement plan. Consequently, there were suspicions expressed throughout the transition process, particularly among antiapartheid groups, concerning South African duplicity: Did South Africa really intend to leave? Was it attempting to create conditions of domestic chaos which would ‘force’ it to re-enter the country, or strengthen the convictions of white South Africans convinced that ‘blacks could not govern themselves’? In any event, two things became clear. First, South Africa, through its Administrator-General, was prepared to take every opportunity it could within the letter of the settlement plan to advance the cause of its own favourites in the electoral contest, notably the DTA, and to undermine SWAPO and its allies.30 But second, and decisively, the South African Foreign Ministry in Pretoria was not prepared to forfeit the advantages of seeing the transition through to successful completion, including UN certification of the elections as ‘free and fair’. The South African occupation of the territory had become increasingly costly in terms of military and financial burdens, the erosion of white morale at home (particularly among those of draft age), and an international embarrassment.31 Conversely, cooperation in the UN transitional operation could buy South Africa some coveted international diplomatic credits and breathing space. The upshot of these two contradictory sets of interests was a kind of ‘good cop–bad cop’ routine on the part of the territorial bureaucracy and the Ministry of

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Foreign Affairs. Whereas the AG would often begin negotiations with UNTAG by taking an intransigent position, he would often return to the table ‘six steps backwards’ after consultations with Foreign Affairs.32 Concerning the position of key actors and forces within Namibia, it is useful to disaggregate the attitude of the citizenry as a whole – that is, ‘public opinion’ – and the attitude of key organized interests – particularly the main political parties. While there were certainly disaffected elements within Namibian society for whom there was no obvious place in a new, post-independence situation,33 the vast majority of Namibians displayed a quiet but mounting resolve to move forward to independence.34 And among organized party interests, the best evidence of their shared interest in securing a peaceful transition to independence was the remarkable spirit of cooperation which prevailed in the constitution-drafting process in the Constituent Assembly. While some parties, notably the DTA, were heavily supported by the South African government during the election campaign, even they were anxious to see the end of South African rule.35 Finally, concerning the credibility and effectiveness of the UN transitional operation itself, this factor can be regarded as the weakest link in the confluence of conditions underpinning the transition. Had not the other conditions been uniformly strong, weaknesses in this area could have been disastrous. Nevertheless, key characteristics of UNTAG enabled it to compensate for its own shortcomings. These included its large budget and extensive information effort. They also included individual initiatives on the part of UNTAG personnel in various parts of the country: for example, the initiative of the Finnish battalion in the north in visiting villages with a water trailer; and the initiative of a Ugandan UNTAG regional director in Ovamboland in calling all-party meetings, leading eventually to a countrywide all-party code of conduct. But above all, UNTAG’s credibility and effectiveness rested on strong leadership and extraordinary efforts from a handful of very capable individuals, led by SR Ahtisaari.36 This is a characteristic which cannot always be relied upon. While sound leadership will be important to the success of any UN operation, extraordinary leadership of the kind available in Namibia is a rare commodity. Leaving aside the unique characteristics of the Namibian situation, this analysis enables us to frame some rough equations by which the prospects for success of other transitional operations can be evaluated. For example, in the rare situation where the balance is strongly supportive across all four key conditions of success – the disposition of major global powers, the disposition of key regional actors, the disposition of key actors and forces within the transitional theatre itself, and the credibility and efficiency of the international transitional authority – a successful outcome for the operation is predictable. On the other hand, where the balance is strongly negative in any one of these areas, success will be very difficult, if not impossible, to achieve. Given escalating demands on the UN system, the

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organization would typically be well advised to refrain from launching a transitional operation in such a situation. And where the balance is ambiguous, indifferent or ‘neutral’ in one or more of the first three areas, it can be expected that the importance of an effective and respected transitional authority and operation will increase considerably. Operations with weaknesses comparable to those of UNTAG will be unlikely to succeed.

Conclusion In most of the actual and potential locales for international transitional operations which presently exist, it is unlikely that a confluence of conditions as favourable as those in Namibia will emerge. With few exceptions, the major global powers will be less strongly interested and supportive. Regional actors – particularly neighbouring states – will be important where they are strong enough to have significant influence, but their interests are also likely to be ambiguous: some, at least, will contain powerful interests which have benefited from the status quo. The kind of all-party and popular domestic support which developed to buttress the transition and independence processes in Namibia may be particularly elusive. Under such marginally or significantly less favourable conditions, the importance of a credible and effective transitional authority rises. Operations with shortcomings comparable to those of UNTAG are unlikely to meet with consistent success. Yet, with resources constricted and with only limited signs of substantial improvement in operational effectiveness, there has been little basis for optimism that the United Nations will be able to mount substantially more economical and effective transitional operations in the future.37 Indeed, there are signs that the P5 and UN leadership have become increasingly chary of more ambitious approaches to peacebuilding. It is on the basis of these calculations that the rather pessimistic stand in the introduction of this chapter was taken. Nevertheless, transitional operations still have the potential to be important vehicles for regional renaissance. For this potential to be fulfilled more rather than less often, a number of things have to happen in the ‘postmodern era’. The United Nations must be able to mount successful operations less expensively than has been the case in Namibia and Cambodia, and with adequate mechanisms of accountability. It must, on the other hand, be able to call quickly upon substantial sources of financing, personnel and equipment in order to be able to give these operations a ‘clean launch’ without being held hostage by the political machinations of the Security Council and the General Assembly. And it must be able to call upon a cadre of people experienced in the various components of transitional operations, and to invoke at least skeletal ‘models’ or ‘standard operating procedures’ to speed and regularize the planning and implementation of future transitions. While all transitions will manifest important differences,

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it should still be possible to anticipate the demands of a range of situations, so that the efforts required become more routine and less extraordinary. In addition, particularly given resource constraints, the United Nations needs to develop criteria for determining which operations it will become involved in, and which it will not. It must not be assumed that the United Nations will provide assistance to every diplomatic fait accompli: UN participation must be based on an in-house evaluation of the probability of success, including the degree of commitment of participating parties. Where UN transitional authorities are not confident that conditions are sufficiently favourable, they should have the confidence and authority to withhold their participation, or suspend an operation in progress, until conditions improve. Where they do agree to participate, on the other hand, they must be provided with sufficient resources to fulfil their mandate properly.38 These various requirements rest on several broader imperatives. The United Nations must improve its capacity for rapid reaction. It must be given greater freedom of action in relation to the increasingly anachronistic ‘sovereignty-bound’ constraints of the ‘state-centric world’. And it must ‘learn to learn’: it must continue to study and consolidate its understanding of the lessons arising from its mounting body of experience, while avoiding the delusional self-congratulations which have marked even incomplete successes such as Namibia. These are not particularly novel suggestions. These types of requirements have been identified by various authors, including the UNSG, and specific proposals have been put forward to try to improve UN performance in a variety of settings.39 The critical question, as always, is whether member states will allow and enable the United Nations to build its capacity for effective action in the manner discussed above. One final point should be made. Although this chapter has dealt only with a UN-organized transitional operation, it is both possible and necessary that other international, regional and non-governmental organizations develop their capacity to contribute to such operations, either in conjunction with or in the absence of direct UN involvement. This, too, is a point that has been stressed in general terms by the previous UNSG.40 Various inter-governmental organizations, such as the CSCE, the Commonwealth, the OAU and the OAS, are developing mechanisms to assist with democratic transitions. Non-governmental organizations, such as the Carter Center, are also becoming involved in these types of activity. The United Nations should take the lead in fostering networks and cooperation among such groups, so that even where its own resources are insufficient to carry off a transition successfully, it can organize consortia with the combined strength to do so, or provide expertise and support to regional organizations taking a lead role. After the heady and somewhat misleading success of Namibia, UN transitional operations have reached an important watershed. On the one hand,

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with each new operation, UN personnel gain vital experience. On the other hand, setbacks may enervate member states’ willingness to support these types of operation. UN officials must demonstrate a steep learning curve in applying the lessons of both success and failure, in order to understand and consolidate the potential of transitional operations as pivots of peace.

Notes 1. Security Council Document S/24111, ‘An Agenda for Peace’, Report of the Secretary General pursuant to the statement adopted by the Summit Meeting of the Security Council on 31 January 1992 (17 June 1992), p. 6. 2. This phrase was conceived in light of former US Under-Secretary of State for African Affairs Chester Crocker’s characterization of UNTAG as ‘the pivot on which to gain the necessary leverage to resolve outstanding issues’ in the linked AngolanNamibian settlement plan of December 1988 (the ‘New York Accords’). Chester A. Crocker, ‘Southern African Peace-making’, Survival, 33, 3 (May/June 1990), p. 225. 3. Actual and potential candidates in the coming decade include: the Sudan, the Horn of Africa, Afghanistan, the Balkans and Zaire. 4. Witness, for example, the UN Information Department’s assertion that UNTAG’s task was to achieve ‘a structural change in society by means of a democratic process’, and Crocker’s assertion that ‘this highly complex operation [UNTAG] entailed converting an anti-colonial war into a peaceful, democratic act of selfdetermination leading to the achievement of statehood’. The Blue Helmets, A Review of UN Peace-keeping, 2nd edition (New York: UN Department of Information, 1990), p. 342; and Crocker, ‘South African Peace-making’, p. 223. 5. Discussion with Canadian Department of External Affairs (DEA) official, 20 August 1992. 6. For useful overviews of UNTAG, see The Blue Helmets, pp. 335–88; Alan James, Peacekeeping in International Politics (London: Macmillan, 1990), pp. 251–68; and Sean Haffey, ‘Canadian Foreign Policy and Namibian Independence, 1977–1990’, unpublished MA Thesis, Dalhousie University, September 1991, pp. 120–49. 7. See The Blue Helmets, pp. 342–61; James, Peacekeeping, pp. 260–4; Crocker, ‘South African Peace-making’ pp. 222–4; and ‘Namibia: The Journey Home is Just Beginning’, African Business (November 1989). 8. For critical commentary on the election process, highlighting instances of violence and intimidation and bias on the part of the South African state-supported territorial broadcasting authority and Administration, see Ray Bush, ‘The Namibian Election Process: Just about “Free and Fair”’, Review of African Political Economy, 45/46 (1989) pp. 151–7; ‘Preparing for a Free Namibia: Elections, Transition and Independence’, Report of the Commonwealth Observer Group in Namibia, Commonwealth Secretariat, 10 October 1989; and Linda Freeman, ‘Namibia at Independence’, Report prepared for the Canadian Council for International Cooperation (CCIC), 21 January 1990. A milestone in the improving climate of democratic political activity during the campaign was the agreement of all parties to a ‘Code of Conduct for political parties during the present election campaign’, organized by UNTAG and signed on 12 September 1989. See The Blue Helmets, pp. 385–8. 9. For sober evaluations of the prospects for democracy and development in Namibia in light of these constraints, see Linda Freeman, ‘The Contradictions of

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10. 11. 12. 13.

14. 15.

16. 17. 18.

19.

20. 21.

22. 23. 24.

Independence: Namibia in Transition’, International Journal, XLVI (autumn 1991), pp. 687–718; and Douglas G. Anglin, ‘Namibian Relations with South Africa: Post-Independence Prospects’, in L. Swatuk and T. Shaw (eds), Prospects for Peace and Development in Southern Africa in the 1990s (Lanham: University Press of America, 1991), pp. 93–114. See Anthony Heard, ‘Linchpin for Peace in Southern Africa’, Canberra Times (26 November 1990). See Michael W. Doyle, UN Peacekeeping in Cambodia: UNTAC’s Civil Mandate (Boulder, Col.: Lynne Rienner, 1995), pp. 60–1. Thomas G. Weiss and Jarat Chopra, United Nations Peacekeeping (ACUNS Reports and Papers 1992–1), pp. 18–19. A more comprehensive critique would surely be useful, however. In this connection, I would endorse Weiss and Chopra’s suggestion that academic specialists be engaged by the UN Secretariat to accompany and record the histories of future UN peacekeeping and transitional operations. Weiss and Chopra, United Nations Peacekeeping, p. 18. Canada, France, West Germany, the United Kingdom and the United States, known as the ‘Contact Group’ or ‘Gang of Five’. Examples included delays in investigating claims of violence and intimidation against SWAPO supporters; a protracted delay in demobilising units of the muchfeared Koevet counter-insurgency force; and lengthy and destabilizing negotiations and delays prior to the publication of the final version of the electoral laws. David Niddrie, ‘Where was the UN?’, The Globe and Mail (8 April 1989), and Clyde Sanger, ‘Struggle for Namibia’, The Globe and Mail (6 April 1989). Robin Hay, ‘Civilian Aspects of Peacekeeping: a Summary of Workshop Proceedings, Ottawa, 9–10 July 1991’ (Ottawa: CIIPS, 1991), pp. 10–12. Harry Neufeld, a Canadian electoral official retained by UNTAG to computerize voters lists, was alarmed to discover upon arrival that he was the only person in the organization with previous experience in actually running an election. Despite the subsequent recruitment of a few others, few people in the organization had an understanding of the electoral process as a whole, and Neufeld remained fearful to the end of ‘really big disasters’. Telephone interview, 27–28 July 1992; and interview, Windhoek, 18 October 1989. James Rosenau identifies a growing ‘bifurcation’ of global structures between the sovereignty-bound actors of the ‘state-centric world’ and the sovereignty-free actors of the ‘multi-centric world’. While the UN sits uneasily at the cusp of these worlds, it ultimately remains, juridically at least, a creature of the former. See Rosenau, The UN in a Turbulent World (Boulder, Col.: Lynne Rienner, 1992). Weiss and Chopra, United Nations Peacekeeping, p. 17. On the events leading up to the April 1 débâcle, see The Blue Helmets, pp. 348–53, James, Peacekeeping, pp. 264–6, and Weiss and Chopra, United Nations Peacekeeping, p. 17. In the end, the total spent was US$383.5 million, excluding the US$38 million refugee resettlement operation. The Blue Helmets, p. 445. The Blue Helmets, pp. 368–9. For more extensive histories of the ‘Namibian Question’, see Kaire Mbuende, Namibia, the Broken Shield: Anatomy of Imperialism and Revolution (Malmo, Sweden: Liber, 1986); Peter H. Katjavivi, A History of Resistance in Namibia (Paris: UNESCO, 1988); and André du Pisani, ‘Namibia: the Historical Legacy’, in G. Totmeyer, V. Kandetu and W. Werner (eds.), Namibia in Perspective (Windhoek: Council of Churches of Namibia, 1987).

UN Transitional Operations 177 25. Hay, ‘Civilian Aspects of Peacekeeping’, p. 13. 26. See Chester A. Crocker, ‘South Africa: Strategy for Change’, Foreign Affairs, 59, 2 (1980–81); Crocker, ‘Southern Africa: Eight Years Later’, Foreign Affairs, 68, 4 (1989); and Crocker, ‘Southern African Peace-making’. 27. S. Neil MacFarlane, ‘The Soviet Union and Southern African Security’, Problems of Communism, 38 (March–June 1989), esp. p. 87. See also James, Peacekeeping, pp. 251–3. 28. MacFarlane, ‘The Soviet Union’, p. 71. 29. Ibid., pp. 86–7. 30. An Australian diplomat in Namibia interviewed during the campaign noted that the territorial administration had acted ‘exactly as I would have expected them to act’, given that they had only recently ended a bitter armed conflict with SWAPO, which they still viewed with considerable suspicion and hostility. Interview, Windhoek, 19 October 1989. 31. See James, Peacekeeping, pp. 257–8. 32. Interview with Harry Neufeld, Windhoek, 18 October 1989. 33. For example, racist whites on the far right, former Koevet members, and the Namibian Bushmen who had been exploited by South African security forces as trackers of SWAPO guerrillas. 34. Colin Leys wrote not long before the election, ‘[T]here seems to have been a groundswell of feeling among the people that a new era was really beginning, [and] travelling in the north … as one by one the SWAPO leaders returned from abroad, one was struck by the spirit of delight and determination everywhere … ’ Leys, ‘No Easy Transition: Namibia on the Eve’, Southern Africa Report, 5, 2 (November 1989), p. 17. 35. On South African funding of opposition groups during the campaign, see Christopher Wren, ‘Pretoria Spent $35 million to Influence Namibian Vote’, New York Times (26 July 1991), cited in Haffey, ‘Canadian Foreign Policy and Namibian Independence’, p. 138. The sense of humiliation shared by black Namibians of all political persuasions, and of determination to secure independence once and for all, came through in the author’s interview with the thendeputy leader of the DTA, Andrew Matjila, in Windhoek, October 1989. 36. While Ahtisaari’s leadership did not escape criticism (see Bush, ‘The Namibian Election Process’, p. 155), most observers agreed that he displayed integrity, determination and a deft diplomatic touch. He also had a long history of involvement with, and commitment to, the Namibian issue. See the feature interview with Ahtisaari, Southern Africa Political and Economic Monthly, 3, 2 (November 1989), pp. 19–24. Other senior UNTAG officials were also credited with important roles by some of those interviewed by the author. 37. See the broadside directed by Canadian Major-General Lewis MacKenzie at the United Nations, based on his experience in Bosnia-Herzogovina. Jeff Sallot, ‘MacKenzie Opens Fire on UN’, The Globe and Mail (29 January 1993). 38. For an extended discussion of possible criteria for UN intervention, see Stedman, ‘The New Interventionists’. 39. See the proposals in ‘Agenda for Peace’, in Weiss and Chopra’s United Nations Peacekeeping, and in John Q. Blodgett, ‘The Future of UN Peacekeeping’, The Washington Quarterly (Winter 1991). 40. ‘An Agenda for Peace’, pp. 17–19. See also W. Andy Knight, ‘Towards a Subsidiarity Model for Peacemaking and Preventive Diplomacy: Making Chapter VIII of the UN Charter operational’, Third World Quarterly, 17, 1 (1996).

13 The United Nations and NATO’s War: The Fallout from Kosovo Tom Keating

Introduction The disintegration of the former Republic of Yugoslavia has had a significant effect on the United Nations’ development in the post-Cold War era. Without denigrating the importance of events elsewhere, the concentrated attention that the United Nations and its member governments have directed at the nearly decade-long conflict in the Balkans has generated a considerable body of experience and opinion about the need for, character of and institutional mechanism by which the international community responds to civil conflicts and the humanitarian disasters they create. The conflicts in the Balkans during the 1990s were marked by both cooperation and competition among a number of institutions, especially the United Nations, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), over if, when and by what means to intervene. This interaction has, in turn, been influenced both by institutional interests (the concern for credibility and legitimacy in addressing new threats to security in Europe and elsewhere) and by national interests. As a result, the emerging security environment is marked by a complex set of relations among different institutions that have not yet agreed on a satisfactory division of labour and whose approach to security issues in the region reflects differing interests depending on capabilities and institutional mandates. Additionally, institutional competition reflects the differing capacity and interest of member states to influence the timing, method and objectives of intervention. The inability of the United Nations to coordinate this inter-institutional rivalry effectively has serious implications for the longer-term legitimacy and credibility of the organization in addressing emerging security issues in the international system. This institutional competition has been at the forefront of the international community’s response to the civil war in Kosovo. The war in Kosovo and the response of the United Nations and NATO raises important questions about the relationship between regional 178

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organizations and the United Nations, the legitimacy of regional organizations in their claims to speak for the international community, and the humanitarianism of military intervention.

Responses to the Kosovo conflict The war in Kosovo climaxed in the spring of 1999, when NATO launched an air assault on the region and the neighbouring province of Serbia. The air raids, in combination with an intensification of ground combat between the Serbian Army, its Special Police and forces from the separatist Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA), generated a mass exodus of hundreds of thousands of ethnic Albanian refugees into neighbouring states and a death toll that numbers in the thousands. NATO forces did not suffer a single casualty. By early summer, the conflict had returned to its low-intensity format, as the Serbian military evacuated the region and an international force under NATO command with the participation of Russian troops secured an uneasy peace. The United Nations remained on the sidelines for much of the conflict until it re-emerged to sanction the ceasefire agreement that had been secured at a meeting of the G-81 and to contribute to the peacebuilding process. The United Nations has been engaged with Kosovo for a number of years, but the attention of member governments has been sporadic, as has their commitment to a settlement – peaceful or otherwise. One of the biggest failures of the war in Kosovo was the lack of effective preventive action prior to the renewal of intense conflict in 1998. The ongoing conflict was not a new issue. It was one that officials throughout the West and at the United Nations had watched for nearly a decade. As early as 1992, then US President George Bush issued a warning to Yugoslav President Slobadan Milosevic that the United States was prepared to use military force unilaterally, if a conflict erupted in Kosovo.2 In spite of the dire predictions of future conflict, no concerted diplomatic initiatives were launched until the conflict in the region took a more violent turn in 1998. Deteriorating civil relations in Kosovo were exacerbated by the increasingly violent struggles waged by the KLA and the Serbian military, beginning in February 1998. In the midst of this tension and violence it became both more pressing and increasingly difficult for outsiders to play a constructive role in mediating the conflict. In response to what members of the UN Security Council considered to be excessively harsh measures by Serb authorities, a series of three resolutions was passed in the autumn of 1998. These called upon the government in Belgrade to reduce its military presence in Kosovo and refrain from using excessive force in the region. The resolutions, in challenging the Yugoslav government’s authority to deal with Kosovo, reflected the interventionist mode the United Nations had adopted towards Yugoslavia since it first addressed the conflicts there in the early 1990s.3

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By 1998, a consensus had emerged within the Security Council that principles of state sovereignty and non-intervention could and should be compromised in Kosovo. Other institutions took a similar view. The OSCE agreed to establish a Kosovo Verification Mission (KVM) to observe compliance on the ground, and NATO established an aerial surveillance mission. The establishment of these two operations was endorsed post hoc by UNSC Resolution 1203.4 While the Council did not sanction the threat or use of force, threats were issued by NATO which initiated an independent response to the conflict. The pressure to do something in Kosovo came from many sources, but one of the most frequently cited factors was the failure of the international community to stop the war in Bosnia which raged for four years until the Dayton peace agreement was reached in 1995. One lesson of Bosnia for many NATO members was the need to use force early to prevent a long drawn out war. A second lesson was not to be constrained by the United Nations.

NATO’s assault On 23 March 1999, NATO launched its air assault on Yugoslavia. The assault was undertaken after NATO concluded that the disproportionate force used by Serbian authorities and the threat of even greater force in the spring of 1999, warranted military intervention. For the next 77 days, in thousands of sorties the alliance’s air forces bombarded installations in both Kosovo and Serbia. The decision to attack was made without a mandate from the UN Security Council. The lack of authorization raised concerns in a number of quarters, but there was no strong opposition from UN headquarters. Secretary-General Kofi Annan argued that the Security Council ‘should be involved in any decision to resort to the use of force’. Yet in the same statement he also acknowledged that force might be justified. ‘It is indeed tragic that diplomacy has failed, but there are times when the use of force may be legitimate in the pursuit of peace.’5 The message was that force was permissible even without the approval of the Council. Not all Council members agreed. Two days after the bombing started, Russia, joined by China, introduced a UNSC resolution condemning it. The resolution was rejected by a vote of 12 to 3. Other governments questioned the wisdom and legality of NATO’s actions. Yet NATO’s decision received widespread popular support throughout most member countries. It would appear that the humanitarian banner and lack of casualties were responsible for this support. While the UNSC was not involved in the NATO decision or any aspect of its operations, it was subsequently engaged by member governments to ratify and implement the agreement reached on 6 May 1999 by the G-8 Foreign Ministers which was subsequently accepted by the Yugoslav government on 3 June 1999. Seven days later the UNSC adopted Resolution 1244

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ratifying the agreements reached at the G-8 meetings. In the view of Ambassador Alain Dejammet, France’s representative to the UN, the Resolution re-established the role of the UNSC in the conflict. ‘The resolution clearly said that it is the Security Council that authorizes the member states and relevant international organizations to establish the international security presence.’6 Coming as it did at the end of the intervention and effectively ratifying conditions that had been set elsewhere, one could question the extent to which the resolution reaffirmed the legitimate authority of the United Nations.

Marginalization of the United Nations and expansion of NATO’s role These events demonstrate the unusual positioning of the United Nations and the marginal role of the UNSC in shaping the timing, content and objectives of the response of the so-called ‘international community’ to the civil conflict in Kosovo. While one must always be reluctant to claim too much significance for any single event during an ongoing process of change, this action by NATO, alongside the emergence of the G-8 as a significant diplomatic forum in dealing with a crisis, suggests an important, and arguably critical, development in the relationship between NATO, other regional institutions and the United Nations in demarcating their respective roles in the emerging security environment in Europe and elsewhere. The United Nations’ legitimacy is seriously eroded not only when it fails to act, but also when others act in areas that are seen to be within the authority of the organization, as NATO did in this instance. As individual member governments or regional organizations seek to assert what they consider to be international standards beyond their national and/or regional boundaries, they are claiming legitimacy to act in the name of the international community. The United Nations and NATO have experienced an uneasy relationship in the decade since the Cold War ended. Much of this relationship has been played out in response to the conflicts in the former Republic of Yugoslavia. The decade began with the alliance trying to define a role in which it would act at the behest of the United Nations in conducting and/or supporting the more traditional UN-sponsored peacekeeping operations. Former NATO Secretary-General Manfred Wörner, with colleagues in and outside the Alliance, developed a doctrine of ‘interlocking institutions’ in the early 1990s partly to ensure NATO’s international licence to act. Yet he readily acknowledged that ‘The UN or the OSCE would retain overall authority.’7 In 1994, NATO assumed a more prominent role and stepped into the Bosnian war by bombing Serb installations. Despite some differences over the dual-key approach used at that time, Madeleine Albright, then US

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Representative at the United Nations, concluded that ‘the United Nations and the alliance can co-operate together’.8 NATO’s new role was subsequently confirmed and enhanced in the US-sponsored Dayton Accords as NATO forces moved in to keep the peace in Bosnia. While these actions were sanctioned by the UNSC, the implicit message was that NATO had the capacity to act which the United Nations lacked. The details were much more complicated and a good deal less clear, but the more superficial message seems to have been accepted. The decade ended with the alliance, not simply bypassing, but disparaging the United Nations and asserting its capacity to act at times and in places and ways of its own choosing in promotion of its members’ collective view of international standards. The decision to threaten and subsequently bomb Serbs in Kosovo and Serbia can be seen as a direct challenge to the United Nations, both in its reluctance to use force and, perhaps more importantly, to its legitimacy in representing the views of the so-called ‘international community’. NATO’s unilateral action also represents the changing directions in US foreign policy as it seeks to define its own role in the emerging international order. There is an implicit rejection of universal multilateralism and a shift to a more limited form of multilateralism involving a small group of states that better reflects American interests. The decision by the NATO Council to act alone and with force, beyond the national borders of its member states, in response to an internal conflict, and to act without the approval of the United Nations, marked a significant departure from the alliance’s original mandate as defined in the Washington Treaty of 1949, which made it clear that NATO was not to supersede the United Nations’ authority and Charter principles. The Treaty obliges the allies to ‘refrain in their international relations from the threat or use of force in any manner inconsistent with the purposes of the United Nations.’9 These principles were reiterated in NATO’s 1991 Strategic Concept, which states that NATO’s purpose is to ‘safeguard the freedom and security of all its members … in accordance with the principles of the United Nations Charter’.10 In adopting this new direction, member governments have given NATO a new mandate that takes a more permissive view of intervention in the domestic affairs of non-members and supports the use of force in defence of what member governments define as humanitarian values and/or human security. ‘Kosovo has brought NATO into the never-never land. It has brought us into a situation where a regime that slaughters its own people is no longer sovereign and where the UN Security Council is no longer a requirement.’11 The United Nations’ waning credibility For NATO, Kosovo became a test of credibility. Simply put, said Joseph Biden Jr. before the US Senate Foreign Relations Committee: ‘[if] NATO had not reacted, we would have proven that NATO is useless. NATO would be

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done. NATO would be finished.’12 Yet there appears to have been even more at stake in NATO’s decision to launch a ‘humanitarian’ war. It suggests an attempt on the part of the alliance to assert a new role and to do so in a very definitive manner. NATO was demonstrating its relevance and effectiveness in the new era by combating ethnic violence in Europe. A success in Kosovo would guarantee the primacy of NATO in Europe’s future. There would be no doubt that NATO was the preeminent and indispensable security institution on the continent. The controversy over whether a UNSC mandate was needed for such non-defensive NATO interventions seemed virtually settled. The Kosovo precedent validated an exception for ‘humanitarian catastrophes,’ perhaps hinting of future unconstrained NATO action in other, more geopolitical emergencies.13 Just as the air assault by NATO may have lent credibility to its status as the world’s principal agent for military intervention, it also called into question the legitimacy and credibility of the United Nations. This was a concern for some NATO members. The lack of a UN mandate created problems for long-standing supporters of the United Nations such as Canada and some of the European states, especially France. This concern explains in part why the United Nations was brought back into the conflict in June 1999 and was given responsibility for overseeing the peacebuilding process. Some observers argue that much of the responsibility for NATO’s challenge to the United Nations lies with the United States. By these accounts, US policy-makers deliberately sought action outside the United Nations. This would certainly be consistent with the recent pattern in US foreign policy, of blaming the United Nations for policy failures while refusing to pay its dues to the organization. The withdrawal of support for the United Nations, while by no means new, is perhaps as great now as it has been at any time during the post-1945 period. The U.N. issue is not just a technical matter. The requirement of a Security Council mandate for NATO military activity implies that the alliance of Western democracies is morally inadequate to make such decisions alone. Moreover, the central purpose of such a requirement is to constrain the American superpower, pure and simple. This has not gone unnoticed in the United States, where the U.N.’s popularity – already low – is being further undermined by this discussion.14 In addition to its military campaign, NATO also established a presence in the area of humanitarian relief. Operating alone and in conjunction with the UN High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) and NGOs in the area,

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NATO was actively involved in establishing refugee camps and transporting humanitarian aid in Macedonia and Albania. Part of this work was conducted through the organization’s Euro-Atlantic Disaster Response Coordination Centre (EADRCC). NATO also provided financial assistance and security guarantees to these countries. In many of these activities the alliance was embarking on unchartered territory. In doing so alliance members appear to be attempting to provide the alliance with a legitimate and prominent role in the emerging security issues on the continent. The net effect of this would be to bring the organization into more regular and direct contact with a variety of political, economic and humanitarian institutions in the already crowded post-Cold War Europe and, perhaps most important, to become the lead agency in this area.

NATO’s limited legitimacy: the ethical dimension in military intervention NATO’s actions raise an important issue involving the legitimacy of international action in support of human security. One of the most significant problems faced by the ‘international community’ has been in gaining widespread acceptance of the right of humanitarian intervention. As Kofi Annan wrote, the Kosovo issue has been illustrative of this problem. ‘It has cast in stark relief the dilemma of so-called “humanitarian intervention”.’ On the one hand, is it legitimate for a regional organization to use force without a UN mandate? On the other, is it permissible to let gross and systematic violations of human rights, with grave humanitarian consequences, continue unchecked? The inability of the international community to reconcile these two compelling interests in the case of Kosovo can be viewed only as a tragedy. Nothing in the UN Charter precludes a recognition that there are rights beyond borders. What the Charter does say is that ‘armed force shall not be used, save in the common interest’. But what is that common interest? Who shall define it? Who shall defend it? Under whose authority? And with what means of intervention?15 The appropriation of responsibility for defining and defending the common interest by NATO might be commendable if the alliance had more legitimacy in the international system. Yet NATO’s legitimacy is very limited and its policies are frequently contested. As Hedley Bull, warned some years ago: ‘Particular states or groups of states that set themselves up as the authoritative judges of the world common good, in disregard of the views of others, are in fact a menace to international order, and thus to effective action in this field.’16 Despite the rhetoric of humanitarianism, intervention in Kosovo was not undertaken on an emerging principle of humanitarian intervention. It was taken on a calculation of states’ interests. US President Bill Clinton made this point explicitly.17 Other NATO members had their own reasons for following along, but interests have outweighed

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principles. The international community is far from adopting any clearly defined and widely accepted set of criteria for humanitarian intervention. For example, Western economic interests preclude intervening in Indonesia. General lack of interest – economic, strategic or otherwise – was enough to make many turn away from Rwanda. Until interests are transformed into principles and principles are supported with the full commitment of resources by member governments, the United Nations will find itself hamstrung in attempting to respond to emerging humanitarian disasters. As a result it will lose control over both the place, timing and nature of the response. Determining legitimacy in the international community is an admittedly complicated and uncertain task, yet if an international order is to be successful in moving states and other actors towards more humane and just practices it needs a legitimate authority to insure a habit of compliance with international norms. The public rationale for international intervention in Kosovo was humanitarian. In the words of Canadian Foreign Minister Lloyd Axworthy: ‘NATO is engaged in Kosovo: to restore human security to the Kosovars.’18 The bombing campaign was presented in the media and in the public statements of political leaders as a rather straightforward act of punishing the ‘genocidal’ Serbian leader Milosevic for his crimes against ethnic Albanians living in Kosovo. The air attack has been conducted, it was asserted, in defence of humanitarian objectives and was, in a frequently repeated phrase, a moral imperative. Comparisons were made too frequently and naively with the Holocaust and with the origins of the Second World War, as if Milosevic is a contemporary version of Hitler. Thousands of refugees fleeing across the Kosovo border attest to the severity of the humanitarian disaster wrought by the evil Milosevic, and NATO, led by the United States has decided that an extensive bombing campaign is the righteous response. It has been, however, a response wrought with serious problems. To begin with, such presentations of the conflict tend to obscure the complex range of issues and interests involved. Another issue that confronts the United Nations in the aftermath of the Kosovo war is the way in which force has been applied by the so-called international community. The balance of forces between NATO and Yugoslavia was so unequal that one could hardly consider this a war. Rather, NATO exacted punishment on Yugoslavia with a disproportionate use of force. Both the early commitment to use force and the unwillingness to use it in any way that might threaten one’s own troops demonstrated a troubling aspect of the emerging humanitarian agenda as it is being implemented by the international community. It also raises doubts about the repeated cries for a more assertive forceful approach to human security on the part of governments and many non-governmental organizations. The quick turn to military force is further complicated by the manner in which force has been used.

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How humanitarian is military intervention, especially when conducted from 15,000 feet? Additionally, how does the use of force contribute to long-term settlement and reconciliation of these divided societies? Too often the international community relies on economic and military sanctions rather than working to understand and reconcile the interests and insecurities of the people involved. Such actions also make a distinction between those wielding the instruments of force and the victims of this force. Moreover, there is a gap between those we are trying to protect and our actions to protect them. Michael Walzer has argued that ‘pigeon shooting is not a fight between combatants. When the world is irretrievably divided into those who drop the bombs and those they fall on, the situation becomes morally problematic.’ It also becomes politically more palatable. ‘Why hesitate to launch hostilities, why give diplomacy every chance, if the cost of war is so low?’19 The response by NATO to events in Kosovo demonstrates the seemingly contradictory desire to use force, but to do so in ways that will not result in casualties. Punishment through force rather than protection through sacrifice would seem to be the option. The effects of such a policy suggest that humanitarian acts are cost-free when they are not, for the costs are borne by one state and its people. The use of force is also not very discriminate. While claims might be made for smart bombs and pinpointing targets, they tend to ignore the inevitable ‘collateral damage’, the long-term damage to a society’s infrastructure and also the psychological effects on the local population. When force is used against governments that engage in violations of human rights there has been a tendency to personalize responsibility for these heinous crimes against humanity, but the net effect of bombing means that the personal gets quickly and effectively translated into brute punishment for the society and the people as a whole. Leaders and civilians get lumped together, and while the civilians suffer the leader continues in power. While we play up the effectiveness of aerial bombing as an instrument of punishment, those held responsible for the initial acts of oppression seem to escape unscathed. Such measures suggest a fundamental failure in how we address these acts of oppression. ‘This is an approach that breaks down the defences and authority of weaker states. Rather than helping to enforce democratic institutions at the national level, it carries the notion of democracy to the largely abstract level of the ‘international community’, whose sporadic and partial interest in the region is dictated by Great Power interests, lobbies, media attention and the institutional ambitions of nongovernmental organizations – often linked to powerful governments whose competition with each other for donations provides motivation for exaggeration of the abuses they specialize in denouncing.’20 It also does little to encourage less violent means of solving differences. Post-bombing Kosovo has been replete with violent incidents directed from all quarters against all quarters and the quality of human security often

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appeared as bleak as it was at the start of the bombing campaign. Perhaps most noteworthy is that, while the longer-term prognosis in the region might be more favourable, it appears that it will only occur in an ethnically cleansed Kosovo, this time overseen by NATO and the United Nations.

Prospects for post-conflict peacebuilding in Kosovo A final issue that needs to be considered in examining the events in Kosovo is the degree of commitment by the ‘international community’ and the sustainability of this commitment. Once the bombers returned home, the situation in Kosovo did not return to normal. The bombing and the war on the ground had created a significant amount of physical and environmental damage not just in Kosovo and Serbia, but spreading along the Danube to Romania and Bulgaria.21 The costs of reconstruction while relatively small compared to the costs of prosecuting the war, are none the less significant and, at least for some governments, may result in a shift of funds from other areas. ‘So stretched are European nations by even their modest commitments, they say, that some, like Germany and Denmark, are shifting funds from other desperately needed development and humanitarian programs, to loud protests from the World Bank.’22 Other governments have given little indication of a willingness to invest in the peacebuilding enterprise. According to press reports, after four months, the US government had not yet paid any of the $37.9 million assessed for the start-up costs of the UN civilian operation in Kosovo. This from a government that seemingly had no difficulty meeting its portion of the cost spent on the eleven-week air war. There have also been reports questioning the ability of NATO member governments to sustain their force commitments to the various multinational units operating in the Balkans. Finally, there is the role that the United Nations will play in the reconstruction of Kosovo. It is encouraging that the United Nations was brought back into the Kosovo dispute after 77 days of bombing. The encouragement results from the implicit conclusion that the United Nations is essential for managing the political relations among competing state and non-state interests. As with many civil conflicts, the decision to intervene brings with it a responsibility for overseeing the post-hostilities phase of the intervention. NATO might be very good at bombing, but there is more to resolving humanitarian crises and civil conflicts. ‘Military strikes alone do not curb terrorism, civil strife, or aggression. Norm building, diplomacy, peacekeeping, arms monitoring, information-sharing, nation-building, and economic sanctions – areas where the United Nations has much to contribute – should remain part of the world’s policy arsenal.’23 In the case of Kosovo, responsibility for a number of tasks has been channelled to the United Nations. Once again this creates a number of problems for the organization. First, it places the organization in the position of overseeing an

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agreement it was not involved in negotiating. As occurred with the Bosnian accords, the United Nations has been given a mandate to oversee a very tenuous settlement. Second, it has been saddled with a major responsibility without any indication that the resources to meet this responsibility will be forthcoming. The Pentagon and Senator John Warner of the Armed Services Committee complain that the UN is too slow to fill the void of governance in Kosovo. They have a point – only 150 of more than 3,000 planned police officers have been deployed, for instance. But they fail to note that the United Nations labours under a financial crisis brought on largely by US arrears on its dues. The criticisms may stem from a reluctance to embroil NATO troops in the messy job of governance, but they are also part of the US effort to discredit the United Nations that marked the war from the beginning.24

Conclusion The events in Kosovo and the response of the United Nations, NATO, other institutions and their member governments raise a number of concerns over who represents the international community and how that community should respond to civil conflicts. The precise lessons are, however, more difficult to discern.
First, and perhaps foremost, the failure to become actively engaged at

the earliest stages of a conflict results in limiting future options, polarizing the positions of the combatants, and renders more difficult and less likely a peaceful resolution of the conflict. Prevention while exceedingly difficult, is none the less easier than the alternatives.
Second, justifying actions in the name of humanitarian concerns makes good public relations, but often obscures the complexity of the political, social and economic issues under dispute and adds little to their successful mediation.
Third, where different institutions are involved in a civil conflict (as they almost always are), every effort should be made to coordinate the work and objectives of these organizations so that they move toward a common purpose.
Fourth, the use of force negates the value of a more concerted diplomatic effort and renders reconciliation and reconstruction more problematic. If the international community is to assume more responsibility for human security it needs to clarify how that security is to be defined, who is going to define it and how it is to be secured. Without some constraint, the failure to do so will result in others – organizations, states, rogues – assuming responsibility on their own. As they do so we risk reverting to a

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situation where the powerful are the ultimate arbiters of security. ‘While NATO’s intervention undoubtedly challenged the sovereignty of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia in the name of human rights, it also provided the occasion for a powerful reaffirmation of US global leadership and the supremacy of NATO at the expense of the UN Security Council.’25 New definitions of security are being used to reinforce traditional sources of power. That is, the most important lesson of Kosovo.

Notes 1. The G-8 comprises the United States, Germany, France, Britain, Italy, Canada, Japan and Russia. 2. Elaine Sciolino and Ethan Bronner, ‘The Road To War: A Special Report’, The New York Times (18 April 1999). 3. UN Security Council Resolutions 1199 (23 September 1998); 1203 (24 October 1998); and 1207 (17 November 1998). 4. UN Security Council Resolution 1203 (24 October 1998). 5. Judith Miller, ‘The Secretary General Offers Implicit Endorsement of Raids’, New York Times (25 March 1999). 6. Minh T. Vo, ‘Shouldered aside in Kosovo, UN Rethinks Global Role’, Christian Science Monitor, Vol. 91, Issue 142 (18 June 1999), p. 7. 7. Alan Henrikson, ‘The Growth of Regional Organizations and the Role of the United Nations’, in Louise Fawcett and Andrew Hurrell (eds.), Regionalism in World Politics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), p. 155. 8. Cited in ibid., p. 156. 9. Article 1, North Atlantic Treaty (4 April 1949). 10. Paragraph 16, NATO’s Strategic Concept (8 November 1991). 11. David Gompert, cited in Jane Perlez, ‘NATO Confronts a New Role: Regional Policeman’, The Christian Science Monitor (22 April 1999). 12. Statement before the US Senate Foreign Relations Committee, 106th Congress, 1st Session (21 April 1999). 13. Peter W. Rodman, ‘The Fallout from Kosovo’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 78, Issue 4 (July/August 1999). 14. Ibid. 15. Kofi Annan, ‘Two Concepts of Sovereignty’, The Economist (18 September 1999). 16. Hedley Bull, cited in Noam Chomsky, ‘The Current Bombings: Beyond the Rhetoric’, . 17. Remarks by US President William Clinton to the 54th session of the UNGA, New York (21 September 1999). 18. World Weighs in on NATO’s War’, Christian Science Monitor (14 April 1999). 19. The quotation from Michael Walzer is from an updated French version of his earlier book, Just and Unjust Wars, and was cited in the Alain Gresh, ‘The Rules of War’, Le Monde diplomatique, English language web edition (15 September 1999). 20. Diana Johnstone, ‘Notes on the Kosovo Problem and the International Community’, Dialogue, No. 25 (Spring 1998) :http:www.bglink.com/business/ dialogue/diana.html9, 19 pp.

190 Tom Keating 21. ‘Reconstructing Kosovo’, The Nation (9 August 1999), p. 3. 22. Ibid., p. 3. 23. Edward C. Luck, ‘A Road to Nowhere’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 78, Issue 4 (July/ August 1999), p. 119. 24. The Nation, 9 August 1999, p. 3. 25. Xavier Bougarel, ‘Ten-Year Chapter of Errors’, Le Monde diplomatique, English Web edition (15 September 1999).

14 Improving the Capacity of the United Nations’ Human Rights System* Douglas Lee Donoho

Introduction The turbulent political and social events of the last few years have forced national governments to recognize increasingly the complexity and interdependent nature of their problems. This increasing, if grudging, willingness to seek global approaches to a widening array of transnational problems ranging from acid rain to land mines has focused renewed attention on reforming UN decision-making. In particular, reformist scrutiny has focused on global security issues as the Security Council has dramatically expanded the range and scope of its involvement in issues previously thought ‘domestic’. In this regard, some commentators have suggested a greatly increased role for human rights in the so-called ‘new world order’.1 They suggest, among other things, that the United Nations should look to human rights, and in particular rights associated with democratic governance, as a basis for collective decisions relating to peace and security. The Council’s activism in response to crises in East Timor, Haiti, Iraq, Kosovo, Rwanda, Somalia, the Great Lakes region and the former Yugoslavia arguably represent a trend in this direction while at the same time raising some troubling questions regarding the actual motivations for the Council’s actions and the legitimacy of what is perceived as Westerndominated decision-making. This chapter analyses the capacity of the international human rights machinery to serve the enhanced roles suggested for it by commentators and recent Council actions. The analysis focuses on key normative and institutional characteristics of the existing UN human rights system and addresses their implications for the potential roles which human rights might serve to enhance peace in a postmodern world. By describing some of the system’s fundamental weaknesses, the analysis also indicates important areas for UN reform. Overall, it is suggested that significant institutional changes will be necessary if international human rights, including rights relating to democratic governance, are to play a more 191

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direct and positive role in maintaining peace. Among other things, the United Nations must radically strengthen its human rights decisionmaking capacity, particularly its ability to determine facts credibly and to develop authoritative interpretations of the specific content and meaning of currently indeterminate human rights norms.

Human rights in a reformed United Nations – human rights and global security It has become commonplace to suggest that a fundamental relationship exists between the observance of human rights and international peace. Among Western writers, these arguments often suggest that democratic governance enhances peace and that observance of individual, civil and political human rights generally enhances the genuineness of democracy.2 Non-Western writers and governments frequently link human rights to international peace and stability but tend to stress instead collective, economic and social rights.3 While these arguments and their variations are largely untested empirically, there is considerable support for the general proposition that a strong relationship exists between human rights and international peace. More importantly, as witnessed by recent events in the former Yugoslavia and Iraq, debate over human rights values nearly always figures prominently in matters of international peace and security. Whether for sincere or cynical reasons, human rights have become an important part of the rhetoric of armed conflict. Similarly, many of the internal conflicts which threaten international peace relate directly to such fundamental human rights as selfdetermination and the still maturing collective rights of ethnic and linguistic minorities. This linkage between peace and human rights is clearly reflected in the activities and pronouncements of the United Nations’ various political organs. Most significantly, the Security Council has offered human rights concerns as one of the justifications for recent activism in the protection of Iraqi Kurds, the creation of ‘safe havens’ and war crimes tribunals in Bosnia and Rwanda, and the restoration of democracy in Haiti.4 Commentators have urged a variety of prominent roles for human rights in global security decisions. The precise role that human rights might serve depends upon the degree to which human rights are thought to justify collective international action based upon their relationship to peace. Thus, reform proposals range from amorphous arguments for a ‘new phase’ in the global security system in which human rights are directly ‘linked’ to international peace and security issues,5 to human rights justifications for UN intervention.6 One prominent commentator, for example, has presented a series of arguments favouring a significant role for ‘democratic entitlement’ rights at the United Nations and within international relations generally.7 Related arguments have been developed on the basis of

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the right to self-determination.8 All these arguments in some fashion involve the issues raised by the longstanding controversy over the concept of ‘humanitarian intervention’ based upon human rights considerations.9 These arguments suggest alternative approaches to human rights reform and a wide spectrum of potential roles for human rights in a revised UN security system. At one end of the spectrum are what might be called strong enforcement-oriented reform models in which human rights considerations would be directly utilized by UN political institutions as the basis for collective enforcement actions. At the other end of the spectrum are what could be described as promotion-oriented reform models in which the United Nations would increase its efforts, through institutional reforms, to promote adherence to human rights as a subsidiary means of enhancing the prospects for global peace. Both approaches to reform would suggest that the link between human rights and peace justifies significant institutional reforms which could make human rights more definitive, subject to more effective multilateral supervision and less susceptible to rationalizing justifications or unilateral action by states. The analysis which follows considers important normative and institutional weaknesses in the existing UN human rights system and evaluates the capacity of the international human rights system to enhance global peace and security.

The capacity of international human rights system to promote peace and security – institutional and normative weaknesses Reforms which suggest that important UN decisions regarding a whole range of potential actions affecting peace and security are to be made, at least in part, on the basis of human rights considerations imply radically new roles for the existing human rights system. These new roles raise critical questions regarding what attributes human rights norms, and the institutions which interpret and apply them, must exhibit to render them effective. The human rights normative framework A comprehensive network of human rights norms are now firmly entrenched as part of international law. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights (Universal Declaration) has won nearly universal acceptance. The major multilateral human rights treaties such as the Civil and Political Rights Covenant (CPRC), the Economic, Social and Cultural Rights Covenant (ESCRC), the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (CERD) and the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) have all been widely adopted.10 And, in 1998, the UN General Assembly adopted by consensus the Declaration on the Right and Responsibility of Individuals,

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Groups and Organs of Society to Promote and Protect Universally Recognized Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms. Based on the above achievements, one can argue that the normative framework of the UN human rights system is basically complete.11 It is important, however, not to confuse the creation of a comprehensive network of abstract norms with the existence of effective, operational legal rules for the protection of human rights. The international human rights normative framework still suffers from several fundamental weaknesses, all of which must be addressed if human rights considerations are to play a prominent and positive role in global security. These weaknesses include significant indeterminacy, unresolved conflicts between rights and the need for rationalization of state obligations and international decision-making.12 Uncertainties over meaning tend to undermine allegations of abuse and make the potential for credibly based sanctions more remote. It also makes it more difficult for international monitors to distinguish clearly between cynical state rhetoric about alternative views of rights and legitimate claims about cultural and social diversity. Over-elastic human rights norms not only fail to provide states with the critically important expectation of reciprocal, mutually conforming behaviour, they also fail to provide a clear basis for finding and sanctioning violations; a critical prerequisite to legitimate collective decision-making regarding peace and security. These circumstances directly contribute to a related cost of textual indeterminacy; inconsistent interpretation and application of human rights standards to seemingly similar cases by both states themselves and the United Nations’ political institutions. As noted above, states play a significant role in the interpretation of rights. Such state-derived interpretations are manifestly subject to political expediency as well as the influence of genuine diversity. As a result, these state-endorsed interpretations of elastic, indeterminate human rights norms are often contradictory, inconsistent and seemingly cynical. Also subject to the vagaries of politics, the UN Commission on Human Rights (CHR), the central UN human rights institution, has over the years produced highly politicized, inconsistent pronouncements about human rights situations around the globe.13 The CHR’s condemnation of Cuba at the behest of the United States, for example, stands in sharp contrast to its treatment of even more egregious human rights violations in other parts of the world, most notably in China.14 Similar criticisms can also be levelled against the General Assembly and, more recently, the Western-dominated Security Council.15 Indeed, although the Council’s action authorizing the United States to restore democracy in Haiti clearly enhanced the cause of human rights, it appears to be best explained by political expediency. The same can certainly be said about the Council’s efforts to protect Kurds in Northern Iraq. While such seemingly hypocritical decisions are clearly a function of political alliances, shifting priorities and expedient blindness to apparent

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facts, the ambiguous requirements of relevant human rights norms have played a significant role in facilitating this unfortunate record. Such inconsistent treatment of human rights ‘situations’ by important UN institutions, and manipulation of human rights by states in their international relations, also undermines the perceived legitimacy of the norms themselves. Under these circumstances, it seems clear that a great deal of normative development, in the form of interpretive elaboration of the meaning and specific content of rights, is a priority if human rights are to fulfil their potential for enhancing international peace. The problem of indeterminacy also significantly contributes to a second major normative weakness in the current system; unresolved actual and potential conflicts between various human rights. Conflicts between rights are an inevitable result of any comprehensive system of legal norms, like the international system of human rights norms, which is derived from multiple, largely uncoordinated, non-hierarchical sources. A number of important conflicts already appear within the current international system.16 Some examples include the exercise of religious freedom versus non-discrimination provisions,17 and the clash between group rights and many individual protections.18 Perhaps more fundamental to the potential role of human rights in promoting peace is the ill-defined interface between still maturing minority group rights, self-determination and state sovereignty.19 Many other potential conflicts among rights will manifest themselves as the process of implementing human rights matures. The high degree of indeterminacy which characterizes most international human rights standards provides ample room for such conflicts to arise and makes their resolution even more difficult. A third major weakness of the existing human rights normative framework is its lack of uniformity and coherence in the sources and content of state obligations. The international human rights system is currently characterized by diffuse sources of state obligations. Human rights obligations for UN members may be created through adoption of any number of a series of multilateral treaties created under UN auspices, obligations of a more inchoate nature pursuant to Articles 55 and 56 of the UN Charter, and a limited number of rights obligations currently accepted as customary international law. States may also be subject to human rights obligations outside the UN system through membership in regional organizations and treaties. While all UN members are subject to the Charter-based and customary international law obligations, such sources are currently limited in scope and controversial in content. Membership in the various multilateral treaty regimes remains far from universal and varies from treaty to treaty. Even within the confines of each treaty, the actual content of each state’s obligations often vary as the result of extensive reservations. There is, therefore, no clearly unified body of human rights law binding on each member of the international community. Different states are in fact subject to different obligations. Each of the normative weaknesses described above has direct implications for the future role of human rights in enhancing international peace

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as well as for UN efforts to implement, monitor and enforce human rights obligations generally. Significantly, most of these normative weaknesses are also common in some degree to any comprehensive set of rules governing social behaviour. Yet, many domestic legal systems manage, more or less successfully, to deal with such problems and command a strong degree of compliance and perceived legitimacy among the general population. As described below, however, the UN system exhibits some of its most critical weaknesses here at the level of institutional decision-making. This is particularly true of its capacity to develop clear, specific standards through authoritative interpretation, application, and monitoring of rights and to render credible, fair enforcement and sanctioning decisions. It is concerning this process that UN reformers should focus their greatest efforts if international human rights considerations are to serve a positive and prominent role in UN efforts to preserve international peace and security. The UN’s human rights decision-making and interpretive capacity The normative weaknesses described above could be at least partially alleviated by a strong institutional decision-making process which could credibly provide specific content to rights, resolve conflicting interpretations and evaluate alleged violations fairly. Among those characteristics of effective decision-making institutions most often cited, there are six which appear particularly important in evaluating the potential role of international human rights and human rights institutions in promoting world peace. Characteristics of effective international decision-making institutions First, the decision-making and interpretive process must be perceived as credible and authoritative among those to whom its decisions are directed.20 This requires relevant institutions to have clearly defined and accepted mandates for the tasks assigned to them as well as recognized competence.21 It also requires that the process produce decisions which are authoritative within the overall rule system or at least clearly located within a hierarchy of authority.22 Second, this decision-making process must have well-developed mechanisms for fairly and effectively hearing and resolving disputes presented to it through agreed upon, credible procedures.23 These mechanisms must be capable of fairly presenting all pertinent information necessary to the decision and provide adequate opportunities for those affected to be heard.24 Third, this process must have well-developed, generally accepted rules about decision-making – whether the task involved is supervision, interpretation, evaluation of violations or ordering remedial action such as sanctions.25 In essence, the decision-making process and its institutions must be

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governed by a minimal level of agreed upon jurisprudence regarding how its decisions are reached. It is critical in this regard that UN institutions develop and adhere to a sound jurisprudence regarding the delicate process of interpreting human rights in the context of profound diversity and for fairly resolving factual disputes critical to their application.26 Fourth, the relevant institutions must prove themselves credible through coherent and consistent applications of the substantive rights which they monitor.27 Similarly, the decision-makers should (at least when fact-finding, interpreting or monitoring rights) be allowed a significant degree of independence and recognized political neutrality. Fifth, and perhaps most importantly for human rights, the international decision-making process must develop rational doctrines through which the diverse cultural, social and economic circumstances of those affected by its decisions may be accommodated while nevertheless generating an uniform, coherent body of law. Finally, these institutions should have some means of giving effect to their decisions – that is, inducing compliance through measures (coercive or otherwise) which appeal to the states’ self-interest by creating the expectation of some detriment associated with non-compliance.28 The more that international human rights interpretive and decisionmaking processes exhibit the six characteristics described above, the more likely it is that states will comply with their obligations and respect human rights justifications for collective security actions. Characteristics of a reformed international human rights decision-making and interpretation process In addition to the six characteristics discussed above, which are necessary for meaningful institutional reform, there are three central characteristics of the United Nations’ human rights regime which must be addressed if human rights considerations are to play a prominent and positive peace-keeping role in a reformed United Nations. First, and perhaps most importantly, the existing interpretation and decision-making process is highly politicized, over-decentralized and badly in need of rationalization. There is, for example, no central UN body with the singular authority to interpret and apply a unified set of international human rights norms thought binding on all nations. Instead, for each of the possible sources of state obligation there are distinct, but often overlapping, sources of decision-making and interpretation – none of which is authoritative. This dilution of responsibility and diffusion of authority ultimately undermines the credibility and effectiveness of both the norms and institutions involved. Moreover, it means that the system lacks a coherent, authoritative voice with the institutional credentials and mandate to generate critically needed interpretations of the meaning and specific content of rights. In essence, the United Nations’ human rights regime speaks with too many feeble, politicized voices.

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Second, existing human rights institutions lack sufficient mechanisms for developing the needed interpretations of rights and rendering credible decisions regarding their violation. As described earlier, the primary opportunities for human rights decision-making by Charter-based institutions are ill-suited to credible fact-finding or the development of meaningful interpretations of the specific requirements of indeterminate rights. Multilateral treaty-based mechanisms have been too narrowly construed by the relevant institutions and state parties to fulfil these roles and have neither the authority, jurisdictional scope nor institutional characteristics to generate widespread state respect and compliance. Ultimately, if human rights considerations are to play a prominent role in collective security issues, more efficacious procedures for fairly presenting concrete cases and situations to an authoritative fact-finder must be created. Third, existing UN institutions have yet to develop a sufficient jurisprudence regarding the decision-making, fact-finding and interpretation process itself. Widely accepted rules governing this process are critical to the ultimate legitimacy of institutional decisions. Especially critical in this regard is the system’s failure to develop any sound approach to the problematic implications of profound diversity. Many writers have described the importance of context and culture to a society’s values and in turn its understanding about the meaning and content of international human rights norms. As the international human rights system turns its attention increasingly to issues of implementation and enforcement, the potential for culturally and politically based conflicts will increase, especially as rights take on more concrete and better defined meaning. Existing UN institutions have failed to develop a conceptual approach to these issues, much less a jurisprudence which provides mediating techniques through which legitimate variations in rights might be accommodated while at the same time providing the requisite degree of universality. If human rights, and in particular rights of democratic governance, are to figure positively and prominently in UN efforts to secure world peace, improvements in each of these areas must be devised in order to lend credibility and legitimacy to collective actions based on human rights, particularly in the absence of other reforms in the decision-making processes of a Western-dominated Security Council.

Conclusion: enforcement versus promotional model of reform The normative and institutional weaknesses in the UN human rights system described above have direct implications for the potential role of human rights in a reformed United Nations. Many reformers suggest greater emphasis on human rights enforcement, envisaging a United Nations in

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which human rights would be utilized as the basis for various collective actions by the United Nations’ political institutions. If this reform model is to become realistic, radical institutional development is necessary to alleviate the weaknesses of current institutions and processes. The most obvious reforms needed in this regard involve rationalization of the system’s normative and institutional hierarchy. Critical to the success of any enforcement-oriented model, for example, is the need for a centralized, coherent decision-making process which could authoritatively interpret the specific content and meaning of currently indeterminate human rights norms and credibly resolve factual disputes. Attempts to enforce ill-defined and controversial norms whose specific content and meaning have not been sufficiently developed through an accepted, credible decision-making process will be regarded as illegitimate by the international community and will stand little chance of engendering widespread state respect or compliance. The existing UN institutional framework for interpreting and monitoring human rights is currently incapable of providing the guidance, specific content or fact-finding necessary to legitimize collective enforcement actions triggered by human rights violations. This is particularly critical in that for the foreseeable future, the UN Security Council will undoubtedly remain captive to a small number of powerful states. In essence, human rights as currently constituted are insufficiently mature to legitimize or serve as a credible basis for collective enforcement actions. Indeed, it is conceivable that use of existing underdeveloped human rights norms as a basis for collective action under existing conditions could lead to increased, not lessened, world tensions and lead to further distrust of the Security Council. The central underlying issue is ultimately defining the role of international human rights and human rights institutions in the world governing process. Creating a greater role for human rights in a global security decision-making process will potentially improve prospects for peace and the human rights performance of states. Success here, however, requires that international human rights institutions move in a dynamic fashion from the overtly political, weak supervisory capacity they now serve to developing a more authoritative role in which their decisions regarding interpretation of the specific content and meaning of rights would provide legitimacy for the actions of UN political organs charged with implementing such rights in an effort to promote peace and security. Whatever the future role of UN human rights institutions in promoting peace, reforms designed to address the weaknesses discussed in this chapter are imperative to the ultimate effectiveness of finding an institutional mechanism for ensuring human rights internationally. A reform process is a necessary, although not sufficient, step for the international community to arrive at a greater depth of understanding regarding the meaning and specific content of those rights which are critical to world peace.

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Notes * This chapter is a revised and abridged version of Douglas Lee Donoho, ‘The Role of Human Rights in Global Security Issues: A Normative and Institutional Critique’, Michigan Journal of International Law, 14, 827 (1993). 1. See T. Franck, ‘The Emerging Right to Democratic Governance’, American Journal of International Law, 86, 46 (1992); V. Nanda, ‘Tragedies in Northern Iraq, Liberia, Yugoslavia & Haiti: Revisiting the Validity of Humanitarian Intervention under International Law’, Denver Journal of International Law and Policy, Part 1, 20 (1992), p. 305; J. Nafzinger, ‘The Security of Human Rights: A Third Phase in Global System?’, California Western International Law Journal, 20, 173 (1990); M. Reisman, ‘Sovereignty and Human Rights in Contemporary International Law’, American Journal of International Law, 84 (1990), p. 866. 2. T. Franck, ‘United Nations Based Prospects for New Global Order’, New York University Journal of International Law and Politics, 22 (1990), pp. 601, 621. Nafzinger, ‘The Security of Human Rights’, p. 74; Panel, ‘The Human Right to Participate in Government: Towards and Operational Definition’, Amercian Society of International Law Proceedings, 82 (1988), pp. 505, 510, 515; and D. Shelton, ‘Representative Democracy and Human Rights in the Western Hemisphere’, Human Rights Law Journal, 12 (1991), pp. 353, 355. 3. Economic and Social Council, ‘Report on World Conference on Human Rights’, UN Doc. A/45/564, 31 October 1990 (hereinafter ‘World Conference’), see p. 7 (comments of Cuba) and p. 16 (Tunisia). 4. See UNSC Res. 688, UN SCOR, 45th Sess., UN Doc. 5/Res/688 (1991); UNSC Res. 929, UN SCOR, 49th Sess.,UN Doc. S/INF/50 (1994); UNSC Res. 824, UN SCOR, 48th Sess., UN Doc. S/INF/49 (1993); UNSC Res. 841, UN SCOR, 48th Sess., UN Doc. S/INF/49 (1993); UNSC Res. 940, UN SCOR, 49th Sess., UN Doc. S/INF/50 (1994); ‘Agenda for Peace’, p. 2, para. 5, p. 4, para. 15; and UNSC Res. 253 (29 May 1968). 5. Nafzinger, ‘The Security of Human Rights’, pp. 173–84. 6. Nanda, ‘Tragedies in Northern Iraq’, pp. 305–6, 311, 330–3; Ryan, ‘Rights Intervention and Self-Determination’, Denver Journal of International Law and Policy, 20, 55 (1991), pp. 59–60; M. Reisman, ‘Coercion and Self-Determination: Construing Charter Article 2(4)’, American Journal of International Law, 78 (1984), p. 642; M. Bayzler, ‘Reexamining the Doctrine of Humanitarian Intervention in Light of the Atrocities in Kampuchea and Ethiopia’, Standford Journal of International Law, 23, 547 (1987), pp. 598 n. 242, 602–3, 616. 7. Franck, ‘Prospects’, pp. 621, 625–6; Franck, ‘Democratic Governance’, pp. 46–9. Franck argues, among other things, that a government should be declared ‘illegitimate’ and denied the ‘benefits of membership’ if the international community determines that the government has denied its citizens ‘democratic entitlement rights’. Franck, ‘Prospects’, pp. 638–9. Also, Reisman, ‘Sovereignty and Human Rights’, pp. 868–70. 8. Ryan, ‘Rights Intervention’, pp. 61–6 and J. Nafzinger, ‘Self-Determination and Humanitarian Intervention in a Community of Power’, Denver Journal of International Law and Policy, 20, 1 (1991), pp. 21–7 and 36–9. 9. Arguments for UN reform incorporating human rights considerations are closely related to the continuing debate over the propriety of ‘humanitarian intervention’ outside the UN framework. See Nafzinger, ‘Humanitarian Intervention’; Nanda, ‘Tragedies in Iraq’, pp. 305–13, 330–3; Also T. Farer, ‘Human Rights in Law’s Empire: The Jurisprudence War’, American Journal of International Law, 85, 117 (1991), and Bayzler, ‘Reexamining the Doctrine’, pp. 569–97.

The United Nations’ Human Rights System 201 10. As of December 1999, the CEDAW, CERD, ESCRC, CPRC and the CPRC Optional Protocol had 165, 155, 142, 144 and 95 state parties respectively. United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights Web Site (linked to each treaty via :http://www.org/Depts/Treaty/final/ts2/newfiles/part_boo/-iv_boo/9). 11. T. Van Boven, ‘Future Codification of Human Rights: States of Deliberations – A Critical Analysis’, Human Rights Law Journal, 10, 1 (1989), pp. 1–3. 12. P. Weil, ‘Towards Relative Normativity in International Law?’, American Journal of International Law, 77 (1983), p. 413. 13. P. Parker and D. Weissbrodt, ‘Major Developments at the UN Commission on Human Rights in 1991’, Human Rights Quarterly, 13 (1991), pp. 573, 575, 579, 584–5, 589, 593. 14. See Interpress Service Report, March 9, 1992 (Nexus); Reuters Press Service Report, 5 March 1992 (Nexus). 15. New York Times, 22 September 1979, §A1, Col. 4; UN Doc. E/CN.4/1371 (1980); Bayzler, ‘Reexamining The Doctrine’, p. 578 n. 134, pp. 595–6; T. Franck, ‘Of Gnats and Camels: Is There a Double Standard at the United Nations?’, American Journal of International Law, 78 (1984), pp. 811, 825. 16. T. Meron, Lawmaking in the United Nations: A Critique of Instruments and Process (1986), pp. 49–50, 78–9, 152–4; Panel, ‘Resolving Conflicting Human Rights Standards in International Law’, American Society of International Law Proceedings, 85 (1991), p. 336 (hereinafter ‘Conflicting Human Rights’). 17. A. An-Naim, ‘Religious Minorities Under Islamic Law and the Limits of Cultural Relativism’, Human Rights Quarterly, 9, 1 (1987); Meron, Lawmaking, pp. 154–9. 18. See, e.g., Case of Lovelace, No. R. 6/24, 36 UN GAOR (40) at 166, UN Doc. A/36/40 (1981). 19. See Nafzinger, ‘Humanitarian Intervention’, pp. 9–21. 20. T. Franck, The Power of Legitimacy among Nations (Oxford: OUP, 1990); I. Johnstóne, ‘Treaty Interpretation’, Michigan Journal of International Law, vol. 12 (1991), pp. 374–6. 21. See O. Schachter, ‘Towards a Theory of Obligations’, Virginia Journal of Internationl Law, vol. 8 (1968), pp. 308–13. 22. H. L. A. Hart et al., The Concept of Law (Oxford: Clarendon, 1997), pp. 208–31. 23. S. Anderson, ‘Human Rights and the Structure of International Law’, New York Law School. Journal of International and Comparative Law, 12 (1991), pp. 26–7. 24. See, e.g., T. Franck and S. Fairley, ‘Procedural Due Process in Human Rights FactFinding by International Agencies’, American Journal of International Law, 74 (1980), p. 308 ; N. Valticos, ‘Foreword’, in B. G. Ramcharan (ed.), International Law and Fact-Finding in the Field of Human Rights VIII–X (1982); Note also UNGA. Res. 35/176, adopted without vote, 15 December 1980; Economic and Social Council Res. 1870 (LVI), 17 May 1974. 25. Hart et al., The Concept of Law, pp. 77–150, and Franck, Legitimacy, pp. 61–4, 87–8, 181–4. 26. Franck and Fairley, ‘Procedural Due Process’; R. Lillich, ‘Preface’, in R. Lillich (ed.), Fact-Finding Before International Tribunals VII–XIII (1990). See also V. Nanda, ‘Armed Intervention in Grenada’, California Western International Law Journal, 14, pp. 395, 408–9 (1984); Declaration on Fact-Finding by the United Nations in the Field of International Peace and Security, UNGA Res. 46/59, UN Doc. A/Res/46/59, 17 January 1992. 27. Franck, Legitimacy, pp. 38–48, 180. 28. Schachter, ‘Theory of Obligation’, p. 310; S. Watson, ‘Legal Theory, Efficacy and Validity in the Development of Human Rights Norms in International Law’, University of Illinois Law Forum (1979), pp. 618–19.

15 Environmental Security: Finding the Balance Catherine Tinker

Introduction A broad definition of international peace and security is necessary in an era of global transition and contradictory trends, a definition that is inclusive of non-military sources of instability such as threats to scarce natural resources and non-sustainable development practices. The challenge is to provide an institutional response based on global economic and social policies that incorporates this broad definition of security in terms relevant to a postmodern world. The modern liberal concepts of peace, security and the rule of law, rooted in liberal institutionalism1 or legal formalism,2 presuppose an organizational hierarchy and a body of international law based on the consent of sovereign states. By contrast, a postmodern worldview accepts no single narrative, interpretation or body of law; no willing hierarchy or limits of place, whether geographic, political or metaphysical; and no absolute sovereignty of states. The limits placed on rights by notions of responsibility represent new global norms existing in the absence of consent of a state. Thus norms related to sustainable development,3 intergenerational equity4 and the precautionary principle5 may in the future be applied to activities within a state’s territorial boundaries to protect the environment or a population, whether human, animal, plant or genetic. These three principles, increasingly cited as ‘fundamental principles of international environmental law’,6 are part of global equity and moral responsibility for the environment and indeed for all of life. The institutional boxes or envelopes established under the UN Charter (and the resulting arguments over the division of power among and assignment of agendas to the UNSC, UNGA and other bodies), while still serviceable during the current period of transition, merely frustrate the requirements of a postmodern age.7 Such divisions are anachronistic and unworkable.8 Functional reorganization of the UN organs with new voting rules and greater and more representative participation, including that of 202

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NGOs and even individuals, could ease the transition to a postmodern institution. Just as institutions are becoming more flexible in response to contemporary global problems, especially in the area of human rights and the environment, law too is changing from an objective canon, knowable through study and analysis, to a process or ‘conversation’ on law,9 constantly evolving in response to particular situations and the views of the participants at the time. In the international system this contextualization means recognition of the importance of negotiation and ‘soft law’,10 the development of norms or aspirations, and the use of framework conventions.11 These allow for broad consensus-building on new legal principles, the details of which can be spelled out in subsequent protocols where balance between competing interests must be achieved. This chapter analyses the concept of environmental security, places it institutionally within the UN system, and tests it against principles of international environmental law, recommending appropriate responses from the international community to threats to global stability. From a postmodern perspective, this chapter also analyses the United Nations’ institutional and legal mechanisms and the response of various actors within environmental security threats. Deconstructing the meaning of ‘security’ from this perspective leads to recommendations on future approaches to environmental security.

Environmental security defined Far from questioning the meaning of ‘security’ in the aftermath of the Second World War, UN founding states wanted to ensure freedom from military intervention and domination. This commonality of purpose and unanimity of definition shared by the international community in 1945 mandated clear-cut distinctions between ‘peace and security’ (designed as the special province of the UN Security Council), and ‘economic and social’ matters (left to the General Assembly). Several references to ‘redefining security’ in the 1980s12 suggested a broader conception of threats to international peace and security was needed to recognize the danger inherent in human relationships with nature. These environmental risks ‘threaten the collective survival of the international community, or of the human species or Earth as a whole’.13 Environmental security threats can be defined as ‘behavior directed against the environment [which] might be seen as a threat to the security of the people or political entities associated with that environment’.14 Security is essential to a sense of well-being, to confidence in the future and the ability to make long-term plans and commitments. Insecurity breeds aggression, hoarding of goods for fear of an uncertain future, and a cautious defensive posture rather than a creative search for solutions to

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immediate crises. On an individual or family level, the search for personal security is universal, whether emotional, economic or physical. So too with nations seeking food security or economic or military security, a search which often translates into a quest for power and domination over weaker nations to ensure national security. On the international level, security is seen as peace, both in the traditional sense of the absence of armed conflict and in the current discourse concerning international environment and development cooperation and the eradication of poverty. Threats to international peace and security no longer are limited to invading armies. Economic warfare in the form of sanctions, trade barriers, debt restructuring, commodity pricing and currency fluctuations may destabilize a nation’s economy and government and cause great suffering for its people. Environmental destruction and heedless development may exhaust the supply of scarce natural resources, kill species, destroy habitats and ecosystems, and ultimately eliminate means of survival in a local area, a nation or potentially the globe. Threats to human survival arise from the environmental impact of industrial processes and military testing, production and development of weapons of mass destruction as well as from the consequences of war and ecological destruction, including disease, mass movement of refugees and impoverishment below subsistence level. Some of the targets of military campaigns which result in environmental destabilization are the earth’s clean water, air, food and fuel as well as genes, ecosystems and species. ‘Environmental security’ refers to peace directly and as cause and effect. The Rio Declaration on Environment and Development15 asserted in Principle 25 that ‘peace, development and environmental protection are interdependent and indivisible’. The Chernobyl nuclear accident, Exxon Valdez oil spill or deforestation and desertification in the Amazon and subSaharan Africa may be direct threats to international peace and security. They may trigger actions which threaten peace and security, such as conflict over scarce or uncontaminated food supplies, economic retaliation or even military responses. The fear generated by threats to the environment and humankind’s uncertain ability to reverse or clean up every environmental disaster or feed all its people may lead to war over water or minerals or fishing rights. Environment, development and war The UN Security Council found a ‘threat to international peace and security, breach of the peace, or an act of aggression’ in two modern cases (Korea during the 1950s and Iraq in the 1990s), each of which involved armies crossing national borders invading other nations. UN intervention in the internal affairs of a state is prohibited under Article 2(7) of the Charter, except in the cases of an enforcement action under Chapter VII. In the future, redefinition to include environmental security as part of international peace and security would allow UN action to protect the environment if the safety or stability of the planet was endangered.

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Two theories might serve as a basis for such action: (1) a human rights theory of fundamental rights to clean air, water or soil,16 or a right to development, and (2) a planetary trust17 or common heritage theory that places natural resources beyond the territory or control of any nation. Under the first theory, even in the absence of consent by a government, ‘humanitarian intervention’ (such as the relief actions to aid the Kurds in northern Iraq after the Gulf War) could be used to assist people trying to prevent environmental disaster or maldevelopment, or during an environmental crisis. Under the second theory, a nation does not have absolute sovereignty over natural resources within its territory. Rather, it holds those resources in trust for the planet and for future generations as a common resource to be shared by all. Therefore, if the actions of a nation endanger the resources or the habitability of the planet, international action is justified. Neither theory, however, has gained full acceptance in international law. In 1991, the Security Council passed a resolution after the Gulf War18 that included the first determination under international law of a state’s liability for harm to the environment, apart from direct injury to people or property, and for the depletion of natural resources. Within the limited context of the UNSC resolution which formalized the ceasefire with Iraq, the defeated belligerent was declared: liable under international law for any direct loss, damage, including environmental damage and the depletion of natural resources, or injury to foreign Governments, nationals and corporations, as a result of Iraq’s unlawful invasion and occupation of Kuwait.19 Here environmental damage was used as a weapon of war. Because of the unusual circumstances surrounding this declaration, its precedential value may be limited. Further, the problems associated with a theory of standing to claim injury on behalf of the environment or the resources have not been fully resolved, despite the creation of a claims commission in Geneva and a compensation fund replenished from the sale of Iraqi oil. Nevertheless, this resolution indicates a willingness within the international community to recognize harm to the environment in the context of a Chapter VII action. The environmental damage referenced in the resolution occurred as the result of armed conflict. The burning oil wells and oil spills in the Gulf were deliberate examples of ‘environmental terrorism’ or the horrors of war, not themselves the original acts of aggression that triggered the Chapter VII response from the Security Council. The Gulf War illustrates the harm to the environment and development caused by war itself, although military activities affect the environment even in peacetime through waste products and pollution on bases during weapons production and testing or training exercises. An interesting consequence of seeing sustainable development as an integral part of peace and

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national security is the suggestion that military resources can be used for environmental protection. Efforts in this regard have been initiated in countries including the United States (which created a position in the Department of Defense of Under-Secretary of Defense for Environmental Security), Sweden, Germany, China, Brazil and some African nations. Disarmament creates environmental challenges for disposal of missiles and chemical weapons and cleanup of sites. Efforts to train large numbers of military personnel and dependants in energy conservation, recycling, pollution control and other aspects of environmental management have the potential for significant impact worldwide. Cooperation between military and civilian industries on effective energy and waste reduction and remediation technologies is beginning, and international groups and advisory boards are looking at the transfer of environmental technology. At a time when military budgets are being cut, bases closed and soldiers decommissioned, suggestions are welcome for ways to redeploy military personnel and material to respond to environmental disasters or large-scale accidents. Clearly some of the high-tech equipment for monitoring and surveillance can be diverted from military to civilian use; clearly trained and ready troops are needed in disaster relief operations as well as in combat situations. Technologies can be dual-purpose. Even now that armed conflict has ceased in the Gulf region, in some places the earth is still unusable for farming or habitation due to land mines, unexploded bombs and leaching metals from tanks and army trucks left behind in the sand. The effects of the oil spills, smoke from burning oil wells and demolished infrastructure are still apparent in the region. Additional environmental risks were illustrated by the UN effort to destroy chemical and biological weapons in Iraq (see Dorinda Dallmeyer, chapter 9 this volume).

The UN system’s response to ‘non-military sources of instability’ At a historic summit on 31 January 1992, the heads of state and/or government of the 15-member UN Security Council concluded in their final declaration that: The absence of war and military conflicts amongst states does not in itself insure international peace and security. The non-military sources of instability in the economic, social, humanitarian and ecological fields have become threats to peace and security. The United Nations membership as a whole needs to give the highest priority to the solution of these matters.20 This quite remarkable and far-reaching agenda does not necessarily require Security Council action on each of the ‘non-military sources of instability’

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if other UN organs, such as the GA or the ECOSOC,21 can better address them. Many activities that deplete natural resources or harm the environment are not currently prohibited by international law. The consequences of threats of or actual damage to the global environment (or destructive developmental practices by a nation), ‘threats to international peace and security, breaches of the peace, or act[s] of aggression’ within the meaning of the UN Charter, may open the door to economic sanctions or even the use of force, which may cause additional environmental harm and further retard development. Scope of UN action Both the UNSC and the UNGA have powers under the UN Charter, Articles 39 and 11 respectively, to preserve international peace and security. Thus, either organ may address environmental hazards if such hazards threaten peace. As explained above, environmental damage can be a ‘threat to international peace and security’, so that traditional Security Council intervention into a nation’s affairs with or without its consent can be justified under Chapter VII of the UN Charter. The UN Secretary-General also may bring matters to the attention of the UNSC under Article 99 of the Charter. While the two major UN organs have competence in this area, their Charter-based powers are not necessarily appropriate or adequate to respond to environmental threats. Contemporary analysis rejects the territoriality-based notion of ‘intervention’ when considering trans-boundary pollution or threats to global environmental security. The United Nations can act in those situations as it does with grave violations of human rights or in natural disasters. The GA and the ECOSOC continue to debate environmental and development issues, and have strengthened the Commission on Sustainable Development’s fact-finding and reporting authority to implement Agenda 21. The UN Environment Programme (UNEP) has functioned, since its creation following the 1972 Stockholm Conference on the Human Environment, as a catalyst for environmental policy and law and explored global standards for preventing environmental degradation. A high-level appointee at UN headquarters provides advice to the Secretary-General on issues affecting environmental security and sustainable development. These institutional arrangements promote preventive measures, sustainable development and the peaceful settlement of disputes over environment and development. More flexible institutional responses are needed for the full implementation of the law of sustainable development in the future. The Security Council The Security Council has primary responsibility – but not exclusive authority – within the UN system for maintaining international peace and security under Article 24(1). Only the Security Council has the authority to

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make decisions that are binding on member states.22 The Council is of workable size and deals with the most serious global issues. Before jumping on the bandwagon of Security Council authority to act in environmental and development areas one must consider the appropriateness or efficacy of the types of actions this body is empowered to take in relation to sustainable development. To evaluate the objection to placing environment and development on the agenda of the Security Council, it is necessary to review what actions the Council can take in the face of a ‘threat to international peace and security’. The Council should attempt to resolve disputes by peaceful means under Chapter VI of the Charter. Collective security action under Chapter VII is permissible only when the Council determines there is a threat to international peace and security, a breach of the peace or an act of aggression. This threshold determination, made under Article 39 of the Charter, is necessary to ‘open the door’ to further collective action on an escalating scale, by applying each successive article of Chapter VII. The Council can investigate any dispute or situation; recommend methods of adjusting disputes including requesting the UNSG to appoint a special representative or use good offices to resolve the dispute; apply economic sanctions of various kinds; and, failing all else, take military action against an aggressor as provided in Articles 41–42 of the Charter. The objectivity of Council decisions on such crucial steps related to social and economic aspects of the environment is potentially compromised by the existence of the veto power in the hands of the Permanent five states. Considering the importance of commitment and involvement of developing states in implementing international environmental law norms – and in their further development – confining responses to threats to environmental security to five developed states, in effect, seems counterproductive. The risk of placing environmental security on the Security Council’s agenda extends to the possibility of unilateral self-defence in situations where lack of Council action could be cited as a justification under Article 51 of the UN Charter. Article 51 acknowledges that ‘[n]othing in the present Charter shall impair the inherent right of individual or collective selfdefense if an armed attack occurs against a Member of the United Nations until the Security Council has taken measures necessary to maintain international peace and security.’ Similarly, regional agencies are recognized under Chapter VIII, Article 52(1) as potential actors in the maintenance of international peace and security. The possibility of unilateral or regional military response in the absence of collective security action by the Security Council raises some doubts as to the wisdom of placing environmental protection within Chapters VII and VIII of the Charter at all. In the event of a serious threat to the security of its environment, a state might be eager to legitimize unilateral actions – such as attacking a tanker which is about to pollute the sea or bombing a highly polluting factory. While, on the one hand, including issues related

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to environmental security can generate concern at the top level for the threats to the global environment, on the other hand it may unintentionally lead to an extension of the unilateral use of force.23 As Schrijver recognized, there is the potential for mischief or worse by a nation attempting to justify unilateral action to stop a development project or pollution in a neighbouring state. If using the security concept helps publicize the issues to governments and the general public, whose consumer habits and national priorities may change accordingly, then it is useful. If it means that traditional coercive responses will be mobilized against a nation, the results may not be very useful, particularly if damage to the environment has already occurred. Economic sanctions, imposed by either the UNSC or the UNGA, against a global polluter nation may be attractive as symbolic action by the international community. Many questions of environmental protection contain economic factors which may well be influenced by economic sanctions. However, as we have seen with Iraq, sanctions ultimately punish the citizens of the target state more than their leaders, citizens who may already be directly suffering from the deleterious effects of the environmental hazard itself. Sanctions are of limited effectiveness when used in isolation from other diplomatic or military actions.24 Further, in the absence of positive financial incentives, sanctions are unlikely to make a nation alter its domestic policy, particularly if the policy serves some locally useful purpose such as increasing the gross national product of the state or raising the standard of living of some citizens. It is safer to restrict this option in favour of the more objective, incentive and scientific-based options discussed below. The General Assembly The General Assembly can recommend action on agenda items raised by members whose voices are not heard elsewhere in the system. A two-thirds majority of the GA is necessary to approve ‘recommendations with respect to the maintenance of international peace and security’ under Article 28(2) of the UN Charter. The Assembly is empowered to discuss and make recommendations on the ‘general principles of cooperation in the maintenance of international peace and security’ to the member states. Unless the Security Council is currently seized of an issue, the ‘Assembly may recommend measures for the peaceful adjustment of any situation … which it deems likely to impair the general welfare or friendly relations among nations’.25 This language is broad enough to encompass cases of environmental degradation, a subject already within the General Assembly’s purview. The Assembly rarely is involved in questions of international peace and security,26 but it is not given that action must be limited to the Security Council in cases of threats to peace and security. UN member states and non-members can bring matters to the attention of either the Council or the Assembly pursuant to Article 35(1). The

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Assembly pursuant to its powers under Articles 10 and 11(2) and (3) may refer a matter to the Council. If the Council is ‘exercising its functions’ under the Charter to resolve any dispute or situation, the Assembly cannot make any recommendations unless requested to do so by the Council under Article 12(1). The Secretary-General must notify the Assembly of any matters relative to the maintenance of international peace and security being handled by the Council. If the Council ceases to deal with such matters under Article 12(2), it must immediately notify the Assembly. Thus the Charter contemplates a role for the General Assembly in this area. The Assembly promotes ‘international cooperation in the economic, social, cultural, educational, and health fields, and assist[s] in the realization of human rights and fundamental freedoms for all’, pursuing its mandate under Article 12(1)(b) of the Charter. Its activities in relation to sustainable development to date have been limited to adopting resolutions and receiving reports through the ECOSOC from conferences, specialized agencies, and UN programmes in related fields, such as the UN Environment Programme (UNEP).27 With this basis of information and expert activity on environment and development, as well as on economic and social issues generally, the General Assembly is equipped to address the complexities of threats to environmental security and fashion responses which acknowledge the interconnectedness of environment, development and peace. In addition, its universal membership and equality of voting lend legitimacy to its decisions once consensus is reached, if states share the political will to act. The Assembly of the future will need to consider how best to implement programmes ensuring environmental security, and will need to develop mechanisms for the full participation of NGOs and other non-state actors involved in monitoring and the creation and evaluation of national reports.

A postmodern basis for environmental security Responsibilities of the governed and the government are being questioned and redefined in the maintenance of peace and environmental security. In part this is a recognition of the diffusion of power to define values and determine appropriate action in the post-Cold War era. As long as the United Nations acted only through representatives of member nations, the Charter’s opening reference to ‘we, the people’ could not be fully realized. UNCED began the process of wider public participation in global environmental diplomacy. The Rio Declaration on Environment and Development states: ‘Environmental issues are best handled with the participation of all concerned citizens, at the relevant level.’28 To that end, people are to have access on an individual or group basis to environmental information held by public authorities, to participate in decision-making, and to have access to redress and remedy of grievances. At the same time, governments are expected to undertake environmental impact assessments for proposed

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activities ‘likely to have a significant adverse impact on the environment and subject to the decision of a competent national authority’; accept duties to notify in case of natural disasters or emergencies, and provide information on ‘activities that may have a significant adverse transboundary environmental effect’; and ‘cooperate in good faith and in a spirit of partnership’.29 None of these activities can be effectively completed without the partnership of non-governmental organizations (NGOs), which frequently are best able to carry out studies or research needed in the monitoring, reporting and evaluation process. Within the UN system, accredited NGOs can participate in ECOSOC, in multilateral conferences and the meetings of treaty bodies; this participation can be extended to the General Assembly and even to the Security Council as well as to the International Court of Justice and arbitral tribunals in contested cases arising out of resource conflicts or claims of unsustainable development. Eventually individuals from all corners of the globe may be able to participate directly in the work of the United Nations through a citizens’ assembly or council, if a new body within the organization is developed. Transfer of environmentally sound technologies and financing State-of-the-art, no-waste or low-waste environmentally sound production methods need to be universally adopted to combat threats to environmental security, with access to this technology for all who need it. The UNCED process for cooperation among nations to achieve this goal is not merely a ‘give away’ by developed nations to less developed nations of the most sophisticated equipment and the jobs that accompany its production and servicing. Rather it is a question of self-interested long-term planning for survival, geared toward sustainability and security. Voluntary funds, such as the World Bank’s Global Environment Facility (GEF), finance the implementation of UNCED’s Agenda 21 action plans. Such plans do not require destruction of intellectual property rights, since owners of patents will be compensated. They may also reduce further expenditures for environmental clean-up operations or remediation efforts after damage has occurred by emphasizing prevention. Donor states have incentives to contribute to the GEF or other funds. Developed countries bear a larger moral responsibility than developing countries based on their past patterns of consumption and use of resources. Both in light of the ‘pressures their societies place on the global environment’ and ‘the technologies and financial resources they command’,30 developed countries have a stake in contributing to sustainable development in less privileged areas of the world, through financing and transfer of technology. Development of international environmental law New ways of thinking about international law may be characterized by a move towards global responsibility and accountability of states and

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individuals; a changing social compact between the governed and their governments; and a shift away from liability once harm has occurred towards proactive prevention of harm and cooperation based on ethics, equity, and biological and cultural diversity in a world where chaos seems natural and constant; boundaries become permeable; and identities matter but loyalties shift. Through global initiatives new groupings come into being with a potential for reordering reflective of our differences and based on acceptance of dissent. The institutional challenge becomes how to forge a workable consensus rather than how to enforce a passive acceptance of dominance by one group or superpower, exploding the modern envelope to respond to the current generation of global crises. The idea of state sovereignty, premised on the sanctity of territorial boundaries, no longer controls a world of ecosystems, gene manipulation or quantum physics. Just as nature overlooks such minor and shifting impediments as national borders, so too must international law and organizations respond with planet-wide solutions to global instability, regardless of the consent of individual states. Only reallocation of resources, with some means of sharing both rights to use resources and responsibility to protect them, will meet the challenge to preserve the planet and its life forms, including our own. The continued existence of conflicting interest groups suggests the importance of selfidentified relevant groups or nonstate actors as well as states, regional organizations and others coming to negotiations as part of the discourse. The principles of the Rio Declaration on Environment and Development emphasize responsibility, prevention of harm and equity on a global level. Soft law, customary international law and international environmental treaties suggest new directions in international environmental law, with non-adversarial dispute resolution mechanisms to resolve competing claims and values in an equitable manner. Treaties such as the UN Convention on Biological Diversity and the Convention on Climate Change rely on monitoring, fact-finding and reporting, and create new institutional hybrid bodies which include technical specialists, scientific experts, social scientists, lawyers, NGOs and representatives of business, industry and local communities. The United Nations as the place for implementation of international environmental law will have to adapt along these lines if it is to be relevant in a postmodern era as a locus for agenda-setting, lawmaking and resolution of global disputes. Military readiness to protect the environment Troops can be sent to global commons areas in the name of an international organization within parameters and policies established by treaty or by organizational policy. Under the direction of the United Nations, troops could be trained and serve on a stand-by basis ready for mobilization in case of an environmental disaster or major accident. In areas within the jurisdiction and control of other sovereign nations, multilateral rather than unilateral

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initiatives conforming to principles of international law could develop as environmental peacekeeping and peacemaking missions. Troop deployment to a buffer zone may halt a development project, such as building a dam or felling a forest, if such development is unsustainable or violates treaty obligations such as the conservation of biological diversity or preservation of the ozone layer. If an administrative or judicial procedure existed where NGOs or citizens appeared to challenge the activity’s legality under international environmental law, then UN ‘green helmets’ could arrive at the site to preserve the status quo until the legal challenge was heard and decided. Military troops detailed by individual nations to the United Nations to protect environmental security could serve other purposes than physically stopping bulldozers or chainsaws to stop pollution or protect biological diversity from permanent destruction. Through the use of sophisticated military surveillance and information technology, including satellites and supercomputers, and the data collected in decades of mapping and tracking, military intelligence could be helpful in assessing the environmental impact of a proposed development project and modelling alternative scenarios to find an acceptable balance between environment and development needs and desires. Preventive application of military personnel and equipment for monitoring, analysis and assessment is an achievable goal. Troop deployment to environmental hot-spots around the globe, even if under UN auspices and control, requires further consideration of the consequences and parameters of such activity. It may not be feasible until there is a stronger body of international environmental law to provide clear ‘terms of engagement’, duties and responsibilities, and an administrative or judicial body ready and able to find an equitable balance between the need for environmental protection of clean air, water, soil, forests and species and the need for economic growth and development.

Conclusion Recognizing the postmodern situation without identifying it as such, then UN Secretary-General, Boutros-Ghali, noted in his 1992 report to the Security Council: National boundaries are blurred by advanced communications and global commerce, and by the decisions of States to yield some sovereign prerogatives to larger, common political associations. At the same time, however, fierce new assertions of nationalism and sovereignty spring up, and the cohesion of States is threatened by brutal ethnic, religious, social, cultural or linguistic strife. Social peace is challenged on the one hand by new assertions of discrimination and exclusion and, on the other, by acts of terrorism seeking to undermine evolution and change through democratic means.31

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The concept of peace is easy to grasp; that of international security is more complex, for a pattern of contradictions has arisen here as well. As major nuclear powers have begun to negotiate arms reduction agreements, the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction threatens to increase and conventional arms continue to be amassed in many parts of the world. As racism becomes recognized for the destructive force it is and as apartheid is dismantled, new racial tensions are rising and finding expression in violence. Technological advances are altering the nature and the expectation of life all over the globe. The revolution in communications has united the world in awareness, in aspiration and in greater solidarity against injustice. But progress also brings new risks for stability: ecological damage, disruption of family and community life, greater intrusion into the lives and rights of individuals. This new dimension of insecurity must not be allowed to obscure the continuing and devastating problems of unchecked population growth, crushing debt burdens, barriers to trade, drugs and the growing disparity between rich and poor. … These are both sources and consequences of conflict that require the ceaseless attention and the highest priority in the efforts of the United Nations.32 The UN system is still attempting to address the historic imbalances between rich and poor, environment and development, but the problems appear overwhelming, even insoluble. Continued over-exploitation of natural resources, particularly in territorial waters or on the high seas, can escalate into ‘fishing wars’; extraction of mineral wealth can escalate into border conflicts over disputed territory and rights. Operation of manufacturing plants near the border of one nation can cause transboundary pollution; or diversion of water by an upstream nation can dry up the water supply of a downstream nation, leading to conflict and possible military warfare. Non-tariff barriers to trade, cloaked in language of environmental protection or public health, can decimate another nation’s businesses, amounting to economic retaliation or even economic warfare. Harm to ecosystems and habitat through thoughtless development can lead to extinction of species and gene pools, and drive some region or nation into conflict with another over use of remaining ecosystems. Yet there are signs of hope. The clean-up of some rivers and lakes in the industrialized world and the resulting return of certain fish and birds; the development of new environmentally-sound technology; and voluntary advances in developed country lifestyles in recycling, hazardous waste disposal and lower consumption levels of fossil fuels and pesticides all indicate the possibility of change. The potential exists for global stability through encouraging economic growth and sustainable development in developing countries, by additional financing and transfer of environmentally-sound technology,

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and encouraging change in consumption and production patterns in the developed world. As shown above, environmental hazards are threats to international peace and security. Adding environmental security to the agenda of the Security Council, however, is misplaced and would achieve little other than to create public awareness of the issue. Additionally, pushing environmental degradation or resource depletion onto the agenda of the Council creates the risk of escalating environmental disputes into larger military conflicts by virtue of the available responses, such as triggering Council action under Chapter VII or permitting unilateral or collective self-defence in situations where economic sanctions and military force are not appropriate or effective. The General Assembly has long dealt with economic and social issues, which are more closely linked to sustainable development than the Security Council emphasis on military and collective security. While arguing in favour of a broad definition of environmental security, this chapter considers new structures and more participatory institutions to address the environmental security needs of the planet and its human and other species, genes, microorganisms and ecosystems. During this period of transition from a modern to a postmodern world, then, some institutional bodies such as the General Assembly will continue to add topics to their agendas; environmental security should be one of them. New institutional arrangements will no doubt emerge with greater participation by NGOs and other groups or individual citizens in global governance and environmental management. In this way the UN system will begin to adapt to the needs of an emerging postmodern world and continue the progressive development of new principles of international environmental law based on equity and preservation of life now and for future generations. In the words of former Secretary-General Boutros-Ghali, the post-Cold War United Nations must aim ‘in the largest sense, to address the deepest causes of conflict: economic despair, social injustice and political oppression’, recognizing that ‘drought and disease can decimate no less mercilessly than the weapons of war’ and ‘a porous ozone shield could pose a greater threat to an exposed population than a hostile army’.33 As a concept which illustrates the interrelationships and interconnectedness of our planet in a postmodern world, environmental security ‘has become part of the established order of things. It offers the prospect of an entirely new way of running our world – and equally, of how we view our Earth’.34

Notes 1. See Keith Krause and Michael C. Williams, ‘Broadening the Agenda of Security Studies: Politics and Methods’, Mershon International Studies Review, 40 (1996), p. 231.

216 Catherine Tinker 2. Robert L. Hayman, Jr. and Nancy Levit (eds.), Jurisprudence: Contemporary Readings, Problems, and Narratives (St. Paul, MN: West, 1995), chapter 9, ‘Postmodernism’, pp. 507–74. 3. Commission on Environment and Development, Our Common Future (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987), ‘The Brundtland Report’, pp. 8, 616–17. 4. Edith Brown Weiss, In Fairness to Future Generations: International Law, Common Patrimony, and Intergenerational Equity, (Dobbs Ferry, NY: Transnational Press, and Tokyo: United Nations University Press, 1989), pp. 17–46, 385–412. 5. David Freestone and Ellen Hey, The Precautionary Principle and International Law: The Challenge of Implementation (The Hague: Kluwer Law International, 1996), pp. 3–15, 249–68. 6. Bernard A. Weintraub, ‘Environmental Security, Environmental Management, and Environmental Justice’, Pace Environmental Law Review, 12 (White Plains, NY: Pace University School of Law, 1995), pp. 614 –18. 7. The difficulty of confining issues and crises to one institutional box or the other is reflected by the contrasting solutions proposed as to whether ‘environmental security’ should be addressed by the General Assembly or by the Security Council. See Catherine Tinker, “Environmental Security” in the United Nations: Not a Matter for the Security Council’, Tennessee Law Review, 59 (Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee School of Law, 1992), pp. 787–801, and Linda Malone, ‘The Security Council and Environmental Crises’, Michigan Journal of International Law, 17 (Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan School of Law, 1996), pp. 515–36. 8. Upon the occasion of the United Nations’ fiftieth anniversary in 1995, several reform studies were published recommending various reorganization plans, including enlarging the membership of the Security Council to include Germany, Japan, India and Brazil, among other candidates; abolishing the Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC); eliminating the Trusteeship Council; and bringing the IBRD, IMF and specialized agencies into closer relationship with the United Nations. See ‘The Commission on Global Governance’, Our Global Neighborhood: The Report of The Commission on Global Governance, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995); and the Independent Working Group on the Future of the United Nations, The United Nations in its Second Half-Century: The Report of the Independent Working Group on the Future of the United Nations (New York: Ford Foundation, 1995). 9. On law as a conversation attempting to reach the most acceptable solution in a conflictual situation, see Brent Hendricks, ‘Postmodern Possibility and the Convention on Biological Diversity’, New York University Environmental Law Journal, 5 (New York: New York University School of Law, 1996), p. 5; and Nigel Purvis, ‘Critical Legal Studies in Public International Law’, Harvard International Law Journal, 32 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University School of Law, 1991), pp. 116–18. 10. Wolfgang Burhenne and Marlene Jahnke, International Environmental Soft Law: Collection of Relevant Instruments (Cambridge, Mass.: Kluwer Law International, 1993). 11. Hendricks, ‘Postmoderm Possibility’, pp. 9–15. 12. The Brundtland Report (1987); and Jessica Mathews, ‘Redefining Security’, Foreign Affairs, 68 (Spring 1989), pp. 162–77. 13. Peter Sand, ‘International Law on the Agenda of the United Nations Conference on Environment and Development’, Nordic Yearbook Of International Law (1991), pp. 51–57.

Environmental Security 217 14. Weintraub, ‘Environmental Security’, pp. 554–5. 15. Rio Declaration on Environment and Development, UN Doc. A/Conf.151/5/Rev. 1 (1992), reprinted in International Legal Materials, 31 (1992), p. 874. 16. W. Paul Gormley, ‘The Legal Obligation of the International Community to Guarantee a Pure and Decent Environment: The Expansion of Human Rights Norms’, Georgetown International Environmental Law Review, 3 (Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University School of Law, 1990), pp. 85–116; and Dinah Shelton, ‘Human Rights, Environmental Rights, and the Right to Environment’, Stanford Journal of International Law, 28 (Palo Alto, Cal.: Stanford University School of Law, 1991), pp. 103-38. 17. Weiss, In Fairness to Future Generations. 18. UNSC Resolution 687, UN SCOR 45th Session, UN Doc. S/RES/687 (1991), reprinted in International Legal Materials, 30 (1991), p. 846. 19. Ibid., para. 16. 20. UNSC, ‘Statement of the President of the Security Council’, UN SCOR, 47th Sess., 3046th mtg. at 3, UN Doc. S/23500 (31 January 1992), emphasis added. 21. ECOSOC is the principal UN organ mandated under Article 62 of the UN Charter to coordinate the economic and social work of the UN and to discuss international economic and social issues of a global or interdisciplinary nature. ECOSOC’s 54 members can formulate policy recommendations for the UN system as a whole. 22. UN Charter, Article 25. 23. Nico Schrijver, ‘International Organization for Environmental Security’, Bulletin of Peace Proposals, 20 (Netherlands: 1989), pp. 115–22. 24. Michael P. Malloy, Economic Sanctions and U.S. Trade (Boston, Mass.: Little, Brown, 1990). 25. Under Article 14 of the Charter. 26. The ‘Uniting for Peace’ resolution was adopted by the General Assembly in 1950, when the Security Council was blocked over Chinese action in North Korea by the threat of the Soviet veto, to empower the General Assembly to act if the Security Council fails to do so in a case where there is a threat to the peace, a breach of the peace, or an act of aggression. G.A. Res. 377A, U.N. GAOR, 5th Sess., Supp. 20, at 10, U.N. Doc. A/1775 (1951). Then the Assembly may make recommendations to members for collective action, including the use of armed force when necessary to maintain or restore international peace and security. 27. UNEP, headquartered in Nairobi, Kenya, was created by the General Assembly following the Stockholm Conference on the Human Environment in 1972 with a mandate to serve as a catalyst in the creation of environmental law and as a monitor and collector of information and data provided by states. Expanding this mandate, turning UNEP into a specialized agency of the United Nations, or giving UNEP or some other new body enforcement powers, are unlikely to occur in the foreseeable future if ever. For a discussion of these options, see Catherine Tinker, ‘Environmental Planet Management by the U.N.: An Idea Whose Time Has Not Yet Come?’, New York University Journal of International Law and Policy, 22 (New York: New York University School of Law, 1990), pp. 793–830; and Geoffrey Palmer, ‘New Ways to Make International Environmental Law’, American Journal of International Law, 86 (Washington, D.C.: American Society of International Law, 1992), pp. 259–83. The future of UNEP is currently in doubt in light of the many other international organizations involved in similar activities, such as the UN Commission on Sustainable Development, international environmental treaty secretariats, and other bodies. Its weakness may be

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28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34.

attributable to underfunding and lack of enforcement power, but the agency has influenced the development of international environmental law. See Ved Nanda, International Environmental Law And Policy (New York: Transnational Press, 1995), pp. 86–101, p. 101. Rio Declaration, Principle 10. Ibid., Principles 17–19, 27. Ibid., Principles 7. An Agenda for Peace, U.N. Doc. A/47/277, S/24111 (17 June 1992), para. 11–13. Ibid. See also the companion document, An Agenda for Development. Agenda for Peace, para. 13, 15. Norman Myers, Ultimate Security: The Environmental Basis of Political Stability, (Washington, D.C.: Island Press, 1996), p. 248.

16 Changing the Global Trade Structure: From ‘Harmonization’ to a New ‘Interface Principle’ Geoffrey R. Martin

Introduction This chapter discusses a body that is central to the operations of the global political economy but is on the periphery of the UN system. The new World Trade Organization (WTO), and its predecessor, the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT), were each created in different eras to regulate global trade and encourage its gradual liberalization. Before examining what the WTO is and how it should be reformed, it is necessary to survey the present situation of global trade and determine its likely direction in the near future. This chapter first offers a brief description of the present state of global trade. Second, it considers arguments in favour of and against the WTO as the important body regulating global trade. Third, it discusses the future of the WTO in light of present ambiguity of current developments in the trade structure. Finally, it develops the argument that we should be greatly concerned about the movement towards bilateral, regional and even multilateral free trade, including ongoing developments in the WTO. The globalization of production means that most economies are increasingly engaged in global trade. The very meaning of that ‘trade’ is changing, however, from the international exchange of national products1 to an adjunct of transnational corporate production and distribution systems. In such an open economy, trade-led economic growth is the most likely means of achieving economic development. Unilateral domestic solutions, such as Keynesian-style demand stimulus, will ‘leak’ into the global economy as people purchase ‘imports’. Yet the domestic hazards of this engagement in the global trade structure are truly daunting. As we will see, the WTO and regional trade agreements are a central means of establishing increasing public policy ‘harmonization’ on a global basis. The policy goals are being implemented through trade provisions that arise from a transnational 219

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struggle to build a neoconservative2 global economic structure based on the free movement of capital, the right of private accumulation and the marginalization of a sizeable minority – perhaps even a majority – of the world’s human population.

Moving towards a postmodern global trade structure This section briefly outlines the present state of world trade and the ‘global trade structure’. Structure is taken to mean an intangible, historically developed analytic category, which helps us identify the significant patterns lying in and beneath the reality that we see before us.3 The global trade structure is the sum total of all exchanges of goods and services in the global political economy. In the context of this chapter, however, the global trade structure is more narrowly defined, as the sum total of transstate exchanges of goods and services. The global trade structure is a broader concept than the more popular ‘regime’ concept, which in common usage could refer to either the broad structure as defined above or, much more narrowly, to formal, negotiated agreements like those that constitute the WTO. One advantage of referring to the broad ‘trade structure’ is that it leaves open the possibility that the centrality of relevant international organizations, such as the GATT/WTO, has been overestimated by regimes literature.4 A ‘postmodern’ reading of the global trade structure points to the increasing gap between real-world developments and the world of the neoclassical trade theorist. The classical theory of free trade, with its emphasis on perfectly competitive markets, the assumption of full employment and the cross-border exchange of national products, is a stark example of ‘high modern’ theorization. As is clear from the introduction to this volume and many of the other contributions, the world assumed by classical free trade theory no longer exists. Whereas conventional wisdom treats the state as the key actor in global trade, we know very well that a startling share of global trade is intra-firm, is ‘intangible’, rather than the concrete illustrations used by David Ricardo, and exists because of the global organization of production. We are at the point where we can hardly speak of the ‘country of origin’ of most complex products, just as we now have difficulty identifying the ‘home country’ of many transnational corporations. The idea that all firms and states can live by a single, universal set of rules and principles is another central aspect of the Enlightenment, and it is questionable how practical it will be in a postmodern era. By the 1980s, supporters of multilateral trade liberalization were expressing concern about the long-term viability of the GATT. The GATT had operated for 35 years on a ‘provisional’ basis, because of the US Congress’s failure in 1948 to ratify the Havana Charter, which would have established an International Trade Organization. Further, there had been seven major

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negotiating ‘rounds’, as they are called, which greatly reduced import tariffs and tried to regulate other forms of trade protection. In 1986, the GATT contracting parties launched the longest, most complex round ever, with the greatest number of state participants, at Punta del Este, Uruguay.5 Over seven years later, after stops and starts and seemingly certain failure, the contracting parties signed the Final Act of the Uruguay Round, and a year after that the major actors ratified it. It is well beyond the scope of this chapter to describe or assess the results in detail – a task that has been undertaken in a burgeoning literature6– but there are two points that should be made here. First, the Uruguay Round resolved many of the long-standing problems that plagued the GATT. The Final Act created the WTO which operates a single dispute settlement process that will put an end to ‘forum shopping’ by contracting parties. Furthermore, signatories made a ‘single undertaking’ to accept past GATT agreements. While the substantive achievements have disappointed liberalization advocates, there is now a General Agreement on Trade in Services, an agreement on Agriculture, and an agreement on Trade-Related Investment Measures (TRIMS), protection of intellectual property, textiles and a host of modifications to the regulations governing the use of non-tariff barriers, including safeguards, anti-dumping and countervailing duties, and technical standards. The second point is that in taking these steps, the Uruguay Round has moved the GATT and the WTO further in the direction of invasion of domestic policy-making and has generated more pressure towards harmonization.

How relevant is the WTO to the global trade structure? Since the mid-1990s, free traders have been riding high. Many bilateral and regional free trade agreements were signed in this decade, though in many countries the ratification process has been rancorous. But in 1994, when it really counted, the Final Act of the Uruguay Round sailed through most of the world’s legislatures, including the US Congress – to the surprise of many. But there is no unanimity that the WTO is worthy of as much attention as it gets, because there is disagreement over how important the WTO and WTO/GATT discipline are to the growth of global trade. There are broadly two major schools of thought about the merits of WTO/GATT. One of these attributes the growth in world trade to global trade discipline, manifested in the pillars of the GATT/WTO, including ‘non-discrimination’, ‘national treatment’ and the ‘Most Favoured Nation’ principle. The other argues that trade growth in the last half-century is primarily the result of changes in production and liquidity. Before evaluating the appropriateness of institutional change, an assessment of the importance of the WTO to global trade is necessary. I argue that a position between these two schools best captures the reality of the present global political economy.

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The first position, advanced by advocates of ‘free trade’, has become quite familiar because it is the position most Western governments adopted in the 1980s and 1990s. Based on comparative advantage,7 advocates of free trade argue that countries achieve economic gains by specializing in economic production and allowing the free flow of goods across borders. If such a system is made multilateral, then only the most efficient production is able to survive because it undercuts more expensive production in a global market. Yet advocates of the need for global trade discipline argue that there are always domestic interests seeking protection from competition. These analysts usually employ game theory to demonstrate that in liberal democratic societies – especially in the United States – the organized interests have the upper hand over the broader public interest. This is because those seeking protection can mobilize greater resources in the advancement of their particular interest since the gains from free trade are spread broadly across the population (the consumers), while the adjustment costs of freer trade are borne by companies and workers involved in the industry. For advocates of free trade, including Nicolas Bayne, Jeffrey Schott, Gilbert Winham and many others,8 protectionism is an ever-present danger. They argue that the severity of the Great Depression of the 1930s is linked to the ‘beggar-thy-neighbour’ policy initiated by the United States through the Smoot–Hawley tariff and adopted in retaliation by the United States’ trading partners. Advocates of free trade and of global trade discipline decry the protectionist pressures of the last two decades in the wake of the economic crisis of the 1970s and the global economic restructuring of the 1980s and early 1990s. They present the open global trading system as a vulnerable structure that must be continually reinforced by further liberalization lest protectionist pressures undercut the progress made since 1945. For advocates of the global trade discipline, had the Uruguay Round been unsuccessful a signal would have been sent to the world’s governments that it was ‘open season’ on the central free trade principles. Further, these advocates express concern at the growth of regional initiatives in the European Union (EC), US–Canada–Mexico, and US–Israel, and over unilateralism in the form of the ‘section 301’ and ‘super 301’ provisions of US trade legislation.9 The problem of the lack of fit between the classical, liberal theory of free trade and the existing global economy is starkly illustrated in a collection of essays by Gilbert Winham. Winham suggests at one point that ‘[w]hat is fundamentally at issue in the Uruguay Round is whether world trade will be governed by regulations established through cooperative international negotiation, or by regulations established on a more self-serving basis by national governments.’10 Free trade advocates take it for granted that these are the only two choices. They fail to recognize that trade is also ‘regulated’ by transnational corporations which make decisions about where to locate production facilities and, more abstractly, by the structures of the global economy, especially those of production, money and credit. States and

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subnational units are increasingly competing with each other as the potential sites of production in global production/distribution chains, which hardly makes it possible for them to be protectionist. The transnational corporation has risen to play a key role in the global production and trade structures. This is a far cry from the protectionist barrier-raising so feared in the liberal model. The classical theory of free trade may be the most familiar position, but it is not the only one on this issue. The second position, found most clearly in the work of the late Susan Strange, holds that developments in the global economy are attributed to changes in production, and to a greater extent, in liquidity in the international financial system. Susan Strange went so far as to argue in 1988 that if the GATT disappeared and took its discipline with it, the global trading system would be basically unaffected.11 Briefly, advocates of this position attribute changes in the volume of trade in the last 60 years to changes in liquidity and production. They attribute the decline of trade in the 1930s primarily to the collapse of credit and not to the erecting of tariff barriers. With no guarantor of the global monetary system and no confidence in the global economy, both individuals and firms did not lend money and did not make purchases, hence the decline in imports and exports. The rapid rise of trade in the postwar era is attributed to the expansion of the global money supply in the form of US balance of payments deficits, while the recycling of petrodollars in the 1970s encouraged the growth of global trade despite the uncertainty of the global economy and monetary system in that period.12 It is useful to note that in the 1980s, the sharp swings in the US dollar–yen exchange rate had a significant impact on US–Japan trade as did the factors emphasized by liberal trade theory. As Jagdish Bhagwati put it, the world economy’s ‘choice may be between managed exchange rates and managed trade’, and we are closer to the latter than to the former. Without the economic security of fixed exchange rates, countries will resist subjecting themselves to the risks of freer trade.13 In the last two decades we have observed that, in many industries, changes in the production process are driving the expansion of global trade. Firms, whether multinational or nationally-based, are aiming to serve a global market in order to produce and sell enough units to survive and be profitable. As technology becomes less expensive and the pace of technological change quickens, firms must serve larger and larger markets to compete with the most efficient production. A corporation’s production process has been globalized (the ‘global factory’) so that transactions once internal to a single country are now spread among many countries (triangular production). Different segments of the production process are located in different geographical spaces according to wage levels, education levels, available infrastructure, transportation costs and access to necessary raw materials. Research and development, management, accounting, engineering, design, production and assembly functions are becoming geographically dispersed

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so as to serve regional markets and also to ensure that the firm minimizes its final production costs. Diana Tussie argues that trade liberalization in the last 50 years has been most successful in sectors such as high-value, non-standardized manufacturing, in which exchange tends to be in the form of ‘intra-industry’ or ‘intra-firm’ trade. Ironically, there has been greatest resistance to liberalization in textiles and agriculture in which production is least globalized and in which the theory of comparative advantage and factor endowments operates most clearly.14 Moreover, a significant portion of the growth of global trade, especially trade in services, is attributable to the global production systems of transnational corporations. According to this perspective, the erection of new tariff barriers on manufactured products would have a greater impact on consumer prices than on the location or scale of production, since oligopolistic producers would simply pass on increased costs but not necessarily dismantle ‘global factories’, because such dismantling is effectively precluded by the costs of amortizing technological innovations. In other words, such a move would have stronger distributional effects than ‘efficiency’ effects. There is no doubt that countries involved in bilateral free trade negotiations are trying to adjust to the new reality of globalized production in the form of ‘rules of origin’ provisions in the Canada–US Free Trade Agreement (FTA) and the North America Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA). In the former, 50 per cent of the content of a good must arise from production in Canada or the United States for the good to be regarded as domestic in origin.15 As for NAFTA, in the case of auto production the ‘rules of origin’ provision holds that at least 60–62.5 per cent of the content must arise from production within the three countries for the product to receive preferential tariff treatment.16 The same document provides compelling evidence of how these regional agreements can violate the spirit of the GATT by ‘diverting’ existing trade rather than ‘creating’ new trade. The Canadian commentary on the NAFTA ‘rules of origin’ provision notes that the ‘agreement to establish a North American content rule of 62.5 per cent for autos and major components will encourage manufacturers to increase their sourcing of original equipment parts from within the NAFTA region.’17 To meet this threshold, companies will have to divert production from Japan, Brazil, Europe and elsewhere to one of the three North American countries in order to secure preferential access to the North American market. The production/liquidity viewpoint is the strongest of the two schools of thought presented here; however, Susan Strange and others go too far in dismissing the GATT/WTO outright. The WTO retains some importance for a number of reasons. First, as much as we might struggle against this fact, the classical theory of free trade is hegemonic18 among elites in both government and opposition in the Western industrial countries. Global trade based on comparative advantage and defined as the international trade of national products remains the dominant view among those who make

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decisions, so the WTO takes on a relevance out of line with its actual material importance. US grievances over its agricultural trade with the EU, for example, manifested in the beginning of a ‘trade war’ in November 1992, illustrates the continuing relevance of free trade negotiations and the social forces that support such negotiations. Commentators who asserted that the recovery of the global economy is dependent on success in the Uruguay Round were partly-right, not because of the material importance of multilateral trade discipline, but because private capital (Keynes’s ‘animal spirits’) is likely to respond to the successful conclusion of the round by investing in growth industries, especially in the service sector. Second, in some important respects the issues addressed by WTO do have material and domestic significance for many countries. This is the case in industries that are state-based (that is, where production is not globalized even if the producing corporations are), such as agriculture and resource extraction. In the case of agriculture, trade liberalization between the United States and the EU is likely to be a ‘zero-sum game’, with one group of producers’ gains coming at the expense of the others. This is because the nature of the sector makes intra-industry trade unlikely (for example where the United States would export wheat for European butter), since all sides produce the same products in corresponding climatic and soil conditions. Compromises must be made across rather than within sectors, which means that an agreement is both difficult and costly for the losing side.19 Finally, trade liberalization has strong appeal to growing sectors with strong state bases, such as the US banking and telecommunications sectors. There is no doubt that free trade advocates typically exaggerate the importance of the WTO and the potential of trade liberalization to jump-start the sluggish global economy. Further, the globalization of production is a major source of increase in trade volume, even though it is not accounted for in classical free trade theory. Despite these points there are many countries that have an interest in liberalization in agriculture, textiles and services, sectors that will only be liberalized through negotiation. It may well prove worthwhile for the textile-producing countries of the South to liberalize their banking and telecommunications industries if the quid pro quo is improved access of their textiles to the markets of the North.

The ambivalence of further liberalization: from ‘harmonization’ to ‘interface principles’ Most countries in the world find themselves in an ambivalent position in the area of trade policy. On the one hand, states are becoming increasingly dependent on the global trade structure, because the availability of foreign markets is vital to improved economic conditions in the future. Yet, at the same time, states are in a vulnerable position because the now strengthened GATT, renamed the WTO, has the ability to take firm decisions and to

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enforce them on states, which raises the spectre of ‘harmonization’. It is not a contradiction to question the WTO’s ability to stimulate global aggregate demand, which is the constant promise of its boosters, and also to point out that the WTO is moving in the direction of undermining the ability of the world’s peoples to take local initiatives.20 This is because stronger multilateral trade rules may do more harm than good to governmental policies favoured by a majority of the world’s population. Stronger multilateral rules, especially those based on hegemonic neoliberal or neoclassical principles, may compel states to do that which they cannot or will not do voluntarily, but which hegemonic transnational forces are eager to see implemented. Free traders themselves acknowledge the revolutionary implications of the current developments in the global economy, and the reality of advancing invasiveness of multilateral trade discipline. Peter Drucker, for example, urges his American readers to abandon ‘ways of thinking that have dominated American economics perhaps since 1933, and certainly since 1945’.21 Ernest Preeg admits that ‘[t]he process begun in the Uruguay Round to expand the mandate of the world trading system beyond trade policy in the narrow sense will inevitably continue’.22 The greatest threat to the current global trading structure, besides a crisis in global finance, is that many people throughout the world are resisting further liberalization because it invites greater multilateral invasiveness in formerly domestic policy areas. To put it in Susan Strange’s terms, states are being told that considerations of ‘efficiency’ – defined as market-oriented, free trade – are necessarily more important than other concerns such as ‘order’, ‘justice’ and ‘freedom’. From Karl Polanyi’s perspective, freer trade means increasing the role of the market over decisions about what is produced, where and by whom. Yet, historically, allowing freer rein to the market produces extremes of both wealth and poverty and an atomization and consequent flying apart of human societies. The danger is that the direction of liberalization in the WTO will restrict the ‘right of self-defence’ of human societies, action they must inevitably take if they are to survive unchecked market expansion. The most necessary reform of the WTO is to reverse this pressure for harmonization of policies and substitute clear ‘interface principles’. This would involve an allowance in the WTO for the fact that all human societies – not just socialist ones – will and must have varied economic systems and that they will have to balance social, political and economic interests as they develop and change.23 It is important that we define exactly what harmonization is and what it is not. In its clearest form, harmonization is ‘[a] system that gradually induces nations toward uniform approaches to a variety of economic regulations and structures’.24 There is evidence of pressure within the GATT/WTO to harmonize domestic policies, but there are also clear limits. One can see this pressure in the outcome of the Uruguay Round, such as ‘Trade-Related Investment Measures’ (TRIMs) and the issue of domestic agriculture policy.

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In both cases the definition of ‘trade relevance’ was broadened so that policies previously thought to be domestic are now defined as ‘trade-related’. In the case of TRIMs, the purpose is to restrict the ability of states to regulate or shut out foreign investment as part of the effort to liberalize trade in services. The argument is that if a transnational bank desired to establish an operation in a country authorized by a trade-in-services agreement, it would be unable to do so if the host country had highly restrictive foreign investment laws. Therefore, restrictions must be placed on TRIMs in order to make liberalized trade-in-services meaningful.25 Jagdish Bhagwati expresses some scepticism about this increasing regulation of domestic policy on the grounds that virtually all domestic policies can be interpreted as having an impact on trading relationships. ‘The notion of unreasonable, unfair trade practices has been extended to … matters as diverse as domestic anti-monopoly policies, retail distribution systems, infrastructure spending, savings rates, workers’ rights and so on.’26 Bhagwati also notes that ‘[i]nserting the words trade-related before investment measures made it feasible to argue the legitimacy of considering TRIMs as part of a GATT regime’27 and many other policies like local-content, export-performance and employment-creation requirements could also be restricted for the same reasons. As more of these policy areas are brought under WTO discipline, there is greater potential for overall policy harmonization because states have lost control over increasing sectors of their own public policy. Harmonization is not simply the imposition of the values of a particular country – the United States, for example – on others. Even the United States will sometimes find itself subject to this harmonization pressure, as is clear from the particular experience of the Mexico–US tuna dispute of 1991. In this case, the United States placed an embargo on Mexican exports of yellowfin tuna under the authority of a domestic law, the Marine Mammal Protection Act. This Act required the United States to stop tuna imports from countries that could not demonstrate that their fleets do not inadvertently snare dolphins in the process of catching tuna. In February 1991, Mexico asked for a GATT dispute settlement panel, on the grounds that the US action was contrary to GATT principles. The United States argued that the law was permitted under Article III (National Treatment) and Article XX (General Exceptions) of the General Agreement. The panel found in favour of Mexico because to find in favour of the United States would allow any country to restrict another’s exports because of the exporter’s environmental laws. The panel contended that this would not only imply extraterritorial application of the importing country’s laws, but would also provide no limit against abuse of such a right.28 Harmonization does not represent the adjustment of contracting parties to any one country, but rather involves the adjustment of the domestic policies of all countries to a new set of transnational forces emphasizing the free movement of capital, the right of private accumulation, and limits on political control of the economy.

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In the place of harmonization the WTO should substitute what John Jackson calls a new ‘interface principle’, which ‘recognizes that different economic systems will always exist in the world, and tries to create the institutional means to ameliorate international tensions caused by those differences, perhaps through buffering or escape-clause mechanisms.’29 Jackson argues that such a principle is necessary if the WTO is going to be a universal organization which welcomes as members Non-Market Economies (NMEs). Such a principle would call a halt or urge moderation in liberalization in politically explosive sectors like agriculture, and would provide safeguard and opting-out provisions so that member states, as the instruments of their societies, could protect themselves through advancement of important values besides efficiency. Further, such a set of principles would not presume to tie the hands of governments of member states in areas such as the regulation of foreign investment and domestic subsidies, among others. Even if an interface principle is developed at the expense of economic efficiency, prudence suggests that it be done. The world’s populations should be allowed to use their governments to introduce non-economic considerations, in addition to national defence, into their trading relationships. The internal economic organization of states should not be a subject for WTO oversight. A state should be able to write laws restricting tuna imports for environmental reasons, or to restrict the importation of products made by child or forced labour. Further, states should be able to favour products and services produced through environmentally-friendly processes. When states do occasionally respond to the moral and ethical concerns of their citizens, an international organization should not try to disallow the results. If states are not allowed this kind of flexibility, then support for the WTO may wane in many countries. The challenge of the twenty-first century will not be dealing with the shrinking number of Non-Market Economies (NMEs), but rather will be accommodating the majority populations of member states in their legitimate desire both to participate in a world trade organization and to exercise some amount of regulatory control over their domestic economies. Many countries in the early 1990s are living in political conflict, some extremely serious as in the cases of the former Yugoslavia and Somalia, some of moderate seriousness as in the states of the former Soviet Union, and some much less severe, as in most of North America and Europe. Such social conflict is exacerbated by a volatile world economy, and can be ameliorated through state action to insulate domestic societies. To varying degrees all states are NMEs, to the extent that there are some sectors of the domestic economy, society and culture that state populations wish to organize along nonmarket lines. If the WTO insists upon extending multilateral discipline further and further into traditional domestic policy areas, then the organization may face a rising tide of discontent from social forces that believe they are being dispossessed by the processes of the global trading system.

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Conclusion Beginning in the late 1980s trade policy took on profound domestic political meaning among GATT/WTO contracting parties because state elites, as part of a larger transnational managerial class, used trade policy as an instrument in the pursuit of their own brand of ‘economic reform’. The present direction of trade liberalization is contributing to the decline of the ability of the state to take bold action in the public interest. By relying on global markets as the major determinant of what gets produced, how and where, more and more of global society is being subordinated to these same market forces. Many societies in the world are reeling under the pressure of surplus capacity in the world economy, foreign debt repayment and liberalized trade. Broadcasting, transportation and culture, to take three examples, are cases in which activities with clear public purposes and implications in the past are now increasingly being regarded only as private activities among many. This chapter is founded on a number of key propositions. First, despite the pessimism of free trade advocates, the volume of global trade in manufactures continues to grow at a faster rate than the global economy overall, and fears of the rising tide of protectionism have been exaggerated. The dissonance of trade growth in an era of economic stagnation should cause us to reassess the classical liberal theory of free trade developed in the nineteenth century. The production/ liquidity perspective suggests that the development of global trade is connected more to changes in production and the amount of liquidity in the global economy than to liberalization of trade rules. Liberalization follows economic expansion rather than being its engine. However, the WTO retains importance in some sectors in which production has not been globalized (agriculture and textiles; for example) and in sectors such as services in which economic actors in the North wish to expand elsewhere in both the North and the South. The WTO is important because the elites that make trade policy more often than not subscribe to the classical theory of free trade and therefore make continuing trade liberalization a high priority. New interface principles should be substituted so that the WTO can become a legitimate, universal organization regulating global trade.

Notes 1. The term comes from Susan Strange, ‘Protectionism and World Politics’, International Organization, 39: 2 (1985), p. 246. 2. By ‘neoconservative’ I mean the role of government associated with the legacy of Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan: a desire to privatize the public domain; to place the highest priority on ‘business confidence’ and low inflation; and to subject an increasing portion of social and economic activities to the workings of the market.

230 Geoffrey R. Martin 3. This definition of structure is influenced by the work of Fernand Braudel, Robert Cox, Susan Strange and Stephen Gill. 4. I also find the idea of structure less confusing than regime and for this reason rely on the former concept. 5. The definitive book on the Uruguay Round is by Ernest H. Preeg, Traders in a Brave New World: The Uruguay Round and the Future of the Multinational Trading System (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1995). 6. See, for example, the following positive and negative assessments: Robert W. Jerome (ed.), World Trade at the Crossroads: The Uruguay Round, GATT, and Beyond (Lanham, Md.: University Press of America, 1992); Michael Northrop, ‘The Uruguay Round: A GATTastrophe’, Alternatives, 18 (1993), pp. 171–200; C. Raghavan, Recolonization: GATT, the Uruguay Round and the Third World (London: Zed Books, 1990); Jeffrey J. Schott, The Uruguay Round: An Assessment (Washington, DC: Institute for International Economics, 1994); Gilbert R. Winham, ‘International Trade Policy in a Globalizing Economy’, International Journal, 51: 4 (1996), pp. 638–50; Robert Wolfe, ‘Global Trade as a Single Undertaking: The Role of Ministers in the WTO’, International Journal, 51: 4 (1996), pp. 690–709. 7. The theory of comparative advantage, like the liberal theory of free trade, is more widely accepted than its tenets warrant. For a good critique, see Strange, ‘Protectionism’, pp. 233–59. 8. This argument is found in N. Bayne, ‘In the Balance: The Uruguay Round of International Trade Negotiations’, Government and Opposition, 26: 3 (1991), pp. 302–15; J. Schott, ‘Trading Blocs and the World Trading System’, The World Economy, 14: 1 (1991), pp. 1–17; and G. Winham, International Trade and the Tokyo Round Negotiation (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1986). 9. J. Bhagwati and H. Patrick (eds.), Aggressive Unilateralism: America’s 301 Trade Policy and the World Trading System (Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 1990). Note that Joseph McKinney’s discussion of ‘possible threats to the world trading system’ addresses only regionalism and unilateralism. See ‘The World Trade Regime: Past Successes and Future Challenges’, International Journal, 49 (Summer 1994), pp. 445–71. 10. G. Winham, The Evolution of International Trade Agreements (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1992), pp. 71–2. 11. S. Strange, States and Markets (London, Pinter Publishers, 1988), pp. 181–5. 12. Strange’s argument is supported by many international economists, like Paul Krugman, who noted that monetary policy is far more important than trade policy to aggregate demand. See his Pop Internationalism (Cambridge, Mass.: The MIT Press, 1996), p. 158. 13. Jagdish Bhagwati, The World Trading System at Risk (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), p. 17. The same idea is found in Eric Helleiner, ‘Freeing Money: Why Have States Been More Willing to Liberalize Capital Controls than Trade Barriers’, Policy Sciences, 27: 4 (1994), pp. 299–318. 14. Diana Tussie, The Less Developed Countries and the World Trading System: A Challenge to the GATT (London: Frances Pinter, 1987), p. 46. 15. The Canada–U.S. Free Trade Agreement (Ottawa: Minister of Supply and Services, 1988), p. 13. I am indebted to José Alvarez for pointing me in this direction. 16. Government of Canada, North American Free Trade Agreement: An Overview and Description (Ottawa: Government of Canada, August 1992), p. 1. 17. Canada, North American Free Trade, p. ix.

The Global Trade Structure 231 18. By ‘hegemonic’ I mean a set of values which most observers regard as universally valid, ‘natural’ and beyond criticism. 19. Winham makes this point about the absence of ‘self-balancing’ within sectors in the Uruguay Round, in his Evolution, p. 84. 20. This underlay much of the civil society protest against the WTO in Seattle in 1999. 21. Peter F. Drucker, ‘Trade Lessons for the Global Economy’, Foreign Affairs, 73: 1 (1994), p. 108. 22. Preeg, Traders, p. 211. 23. These concerns also seem to have energized John Gerard Ruggie, in his short article entitled ‘Trade, Protectionism and the Future of Welfare Capitalism’, Journal of International Affairs, 48: 1 (1994), pp. 1–11. 24. Jackson, Restructuring, p. 83. 25. An excellent critique of the movement towards controlling TRIMs is found in Dallas DeLuca, ‘Trade-Related Investment Measures: U.S. Efforts to Shape a pro-Business World Legal System’, Journal of International Affairs, 48: 1 (1994), pp. 251–77. 26. Bhagwati, World Trading System, pp. 19–20. 27. Bhagwati, World Trading System, p. 90. 28. This material is drawn from GATT, International Trade 90–91, vol. 1, pp. 27–8. 29. Jackson, Restructuring, p. 84.

Conclusion: Rethinking instead of Tinkering – an Ethical Consensus and General Lessons W. Andy Knight and Joseph Masciulli

Introduction The contributions to this book are about adapting the UN system to the post-Cold War era, and more generally, to a post-Westphalian, postmodern period that is following upon the era of Euro/US dominance in the global system. In this final chapter, we will clarify some of the general lessons that ought to have been learned from recent UN experience and put forward recommendations designed to make the United Nations more effective and relevant in the future. However, we also seek to develop an ethical foundation and empirical context for these lessons and recommendations.

Realpolitik Realists and neo-realists among scholars and professionals, and cynics among the general public, often claim that the United Nations’ ‘dramatic rhetoric and seeming inability to deal with vital problems’ makes it an insignificant actor on the international stage.1 The United Nations, they say, is like other international and regional intergovernmental organizations – primarily an arena and echo chamber for the contests of major powers. These powers still deal with the inescapable security dilemma faced by states competing in an anarchical system, where the distribution of power largely determines their strategies.2 Moreover, the assumption that it is not possible to go beyond the security dilemma is accompanied in the realism/neo-realism paradigm by the subordination of morality to power politics and political prudence (consequentialism). Following Machiavelli and Hobbes, Hans Morgenthau, for example, eloquently argued that in practice there is no middle ground between acting rationally and effectively but subordinating morality to considerations of power, or giving priority to morality but acting ineffectively and nonrationally in terms of one’s power position in an anarchic and conflictual system of states.3 233

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Henry Kissinger restated Morgenthau’s moderate realism, calling for a confluence of geopolitical and moral aims, of realpolitik and Wilsonian idealism.4 Yet, in the end, Kissinger gives realpolitik clear and unambiguous priority over Wilsonian idealism arguing that this idealism ‘is both too vague and too legalistic’, indeed too utopian, to guide responsible, rational statesmanship in the twenty-first century.5 For a realist such as Kissinger, then, the United Nations must remain, most of the time, as an arena and echo for the balancing contests of major powers. On the continuum between extreme amoral realism and extreme utopian idealism, there are a variety of positions that analysts and policy-makers may take that have implications for one’s approach to the future of the United Nations. Kissinger’s position can be considered a form of ‘enlightened realism’ in the direction of a ‘concert-based peace’ for the twenty-first century. Such a multilateral approach begins with the judgement that the United Nations, NATO, OSCE and the G-7/8 all have limitations. Indeed, it is probable that any concert-based collective security architecture that emerges in a postmodern era will consist of an ad hoc combination of regional bodies tied together by the interlocking membership of great powers. This restricted, concert-based, collective security mechanism, then, would be an alternative to the United Nations’ vision of a full-fledged, comprehensive global collective security system. In our ‘fragile and disorderly new multipolar world’, this concert-based system with only ad hoc ties to the United Nations and other IGOs could be expected to bring a modicum of order in the twenty-first century.6 However, it would also result in a radical reduction of the United Nations in terms of goals and institutional capabilities. The limitations of realpolitik in an interdependent world Realists are inclined to confine causal power to the conduct of states and hence largely ignore international organizations, non-governmental organizations and individuals who do not occupy high government positions. Publics are viewed as manipulable by elites or of little significance. Realists present a cogent model of unitary state actors interacting according to calculations of relative instrumental power and seeking the overall goal of national interests defined primarily in terms of hard economic, technological and military power. The systemic structure of uni/multipolarity – of the power of the United States, in relation to that of Japan, China, Germany/European Union and Russia – dominate realist predictions of, and prescriptions for, the future. Our empirical working assumptions go contrary to the stress of realist descriptions, explanations and expectations, for we expect the postmodern era to be characterized by polycentricism of soft and hard determinants of power. Moreover, it will most likely be defined by globalization in communications, transportation, technology, economics and culture, and the

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renewed strength of the clash of different identities grounded in ethnicity, or nationality, culture, gender, religion and civilizations.7 Certainly, it is unclear what globalization will bring about in its intended main effects, but also in its unintended side-effects. In general, in our transitional period, the primacy of economic concerns has replaced the primacy of military issues. In this context, realist theory has lost much of its ability to explain certain contemporary events. The boundaries between domestic and international politics have continued to erode because the principles and practices of sovereignty are, in some cases, no longer barriers to external intervention into situations rife with famine, civil war and gross violations of human rights. The emerging global order is characterized by deep and turbulent change that has brought about relative, though not absolute, loss of state influence in international affairs. At a level more significant than the influence of Gorbachev’s reforms and the end of the Soviet Union and the implications of the reunification of Germany, there is a turbulence resulting from cascading sequences of action. As parameters of world politics have become variables in our era, there has emerged a tripartite structure (in the macro system, the macro–micro authority relations in states and IOs, and the micro level of individuals) that may be signalling the end of the Westphalian system. At the macro level, as David Black pointed out earlier, our global system is bifurcating into state-centric and multi-centric subsystems, into sovereignty-bound and sovereignty-free actors, with IGOs such as the United Nations existing on the porous boundary between the two subsystems and acting in both. Interactions in the state-centric world continue to involve events that unfold reciprocally and bilaterally between sovereignty-bound actors. In contrast, the multicentric world involves sequences of action that not only precipitate reactions on the part of immediate targets, but also stimulate new actions on the part of as many sovereignty-free and sovereignty-bound actors as happen to get caught up in the causal networks that criss-cross the two worlds of global politics.8 The explanations of the dynamics underlying the parametric transformations include internal and external processes vis-à-vis world politics. Above all, central forces include dynamic technologies, shrinking social and geographical distances, and the proliferation of actors. The latter includes a series of transnational, large-scale and powerful social movements addressing the non-conventional issues of women’s rights, peace, environmental pollution and ecology, aids, the flow of refugees, drugs and currency crises in the context of interdependence and the centralizing dynamics that compel cooperation on a transnational scale. Lastly, individual citizens and subjects have relatively better analytical skills and emotional competence than people in past international systems and can significantly affect (even as they are affected by) the aggregated

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dynamics that give shape and direction to global life. In brief, because of the new expanding roles of non-military high technology, IO, and publics, the emerging multi-centric system is relatively more dynamic than the state-centric one.9 One should also stress that the state-centric system that operates according to sovereign borders is being challenged by a world capitalist system, acting across and above national borders, that is largely out of the control of the states or of any specific non-state actor.10

‘Neo-idealism’ or ‘idealpolitik’: the priority of world interests We need to rethink the goals and instruments of the United Nations so that it can deal effectively with these increasing challenges to the statecentric system and with the complexities of a turbulent world largely out of control. The turbulence model suggests that the integrating and fragmenting forces are in rough balance in which certain problems are being resolved while others persist. We agree with James Rosenau that ‘much depends, in the end, on the kinds of leaders that come to power in the state-centric and multi-centric worlds and the quality of the demands that every more skillful publics make upon them.’11 Above all, we advocate neoidealism or idealpolitik for both leaders and publics. This normative position of neo-idealism – cosmopolitan and democratic, humane global leadership and governance in the pursuit of world interests – is based on the assumption that it is possible to go beyond the essential dilemmas presented by the tradition of Machiavellian realism. In a post-realist, neo-idealist perspective, it is crucially important to debate what ought to be the priority world interests according to an expanded concept of security. Moreover, since the process of positing and ranking of world interests, like national interests, involves values, it necessarily encompasses a combination of empirical and normative theorizing and controversies. In general, Seyom Brown has made an excellent start in denying the realist claim that any putative world interest would have to be derived from national interests. On the contrary, ‘the securing of world interests … is the necessary condition for maintaining any of the national and special interests that continue to be highly valued’ and ‘whatever the scope of the polity – city, province, country, the entire planet – the fundamental human interests that deserve to be accommodated and reliably secured include not only physical safety and minimal public order, but also economic subsistence and basic health of the population (which implies as Catherine Tinker notes, a sustainable ecological environment), individual civic and property rights, and opportunities for cultural and religious communities to develop their own ways of life.’12 Unlike Kissinger and other realists who ultimately rely on definitions of the national interest, we seek to combine moral principles with a notion of world interests, and thus advocate reforming the United Nations to make it

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into an effective instrument of an expanded notion of national and global security. Idealpolitik affirms human, not national, survival in dignity as the overriding world interest. For human beings possess dignity, rights and responsibilities and are not merely means but ends in themselves and part of a universal and transcendent common good. This transcendental good and the ideals that embody it should be given, at least, a balanced priority with the demands of the constraining structures of global ‘reality’, and whenever possible clear pre-eminence. The application of these principles has to be balanced with the demands of necessity – scarcity of global natural resources, the unintended effects of human technologies, the finite limits to human life, knowledge and power, the historically well-attested tendencies of human beings to compete for power and prestige, and often to behave selfishly as individuals and in groups. Realpolitik recognizes geopolitical necessities and structures, but that is too narrow to accommodate ecopolitical and technopolitical necessities which are increasingly pre-eminent. In normative terms, then, we advocate advanced forms of global leadership and governance centred in the UN system, though not limited to it, that would advance future multilateralism. We assume that multilateralism is an evolving phenomenon whose concrete manifestations – multilateral institutions and regimes – must of necessity periodically undergo change to be relevant, effective and efficient in responding to the needs, wants and demands of all members of global society. At the same time, we recognize that multilateral institutions are limited and constrained by global structures of security, production, finance and knowledge. In view of this, the United Nations should continue changing by reforming its procedures and reflexively adapting its operations, but above all by engaging in institutional learning.13 Only this mode of change (that is, institutional learning) has the potential to respond to the ambiguities and dilemmas of the United Nations’ two-tiered structure and transcend, to a greater or lesser extent, the constraining structures that Parts I and III of this book, especially, have identified and clarified. We need humane global governance and leadership by the United Nations (as distinct from a global state and government14 to overcome crises that could result in calamitous wars and social breakdowns, and achieve peace and stability with justice. This type of governance would establish peacekeeping, peacemaking, peacebuilding/peace maintenance, collective security enforcement, preventive deployment, the rule of law and protection of human rights, processes of non-violent change through democratic debate and voting, stewardship over nature and individual criminal responsibility through a permanent international criminal court. Lastly, this vision of humane global governance would call forth a type of leadership that puts a premium on rational persuasion, diplomacy and dialogue – a type not enamoured to validate its authority though the use of brutal, deadly force.

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Rather, such leadership would be reluctant to use force, except as a justified last resort, with proportionality and discrimination.15 We conceive of power more in soft than in hard terms, emphasizing intangible factors over tangible economic-military elements.16 Soft power depends on factors such as the size and commitment of an organization’s membership, the skills and reputations of its leaders, and the universality of its appeal – the power of universal ideas as opposed to particularistic, nationalistic, ethnic, ethnocentric and intolerant religious and cultural viewpoints. The multi-centric world is less an arena of power struggles than a shifting sea of locales in which coalitions are formed and reformed through subtle influence processes. Unlike states, organizations in the multi-centric world do not rely on coercive power bases ‘to affect each other directly as they do on the indirect routes through which they have access to attentive publics, markets, bureaucracies, and other arenas where authority is diffuse and informal.’17 For the most part, then, states follow direct routes to the concentrated and formal centres of decision in other states and in IGOs. Clearly, the United Nations acts in both subsystems and at the boundary of both. Hard power – military, economic, and machine power and the coerciveness of their command structures – could coexist with novel forms of soft power rooted in ‘the universalism of a country’s culture and its ability to establish a set of favorable rules and institutions that govern areas of international activity’.18

An ethical consensus grounded in twentieth-century experiences of violations of human dignity In global society, albeit unevenly since the Second World War, there have been a manifold of structural shifts caused by social, technical, economic, political and intellectual-spiritual factors that have resulted in the centrality of ‘human dignity’ as the foundation of human rights and democratic legitimacy. In the first period after the Second World War, human dignity had the saliency provided by the Nuremberg war crimes trials of the Nazi leadership, the Tokyo trials of Japanese war criminals and the ethical reflection following upon the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki by the United States. Fundamental rights were adumbrated in the United Nations Charter of 1945 and catalogued in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights of 1948. Today, we can speak of a ‘structural shift’, associated above all with the United Nations, underlying the dignity of the human person. Though ‘human dignity’ is a contested concept, it refers to the quality of the person as a subject and as an end in himself or herself, as one who ought never to be merely the object of another’s intentions and actions. Human dignity, then, is ‘the foundation of one’s particular values and rights as one’s possessions’.19

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We need to give priority to a global ethic of human rights, responsibilities and democracy as essential to a life of human dignity. This ethic embraces principles of solidarity and subsidiarity: solidarity – in the face of particular interests, one ought to strive for political and social balance and the furthering of the global common good and world interests; subsidiarity – a principle of responsibility and accountability, according to which what the individual can do on his or her own initiative should not be done by the community, and what the smaller community can do of itself should not be done by the larger community or the state or global governance institutions.20 The solidarity we envisage from the perspective of critical, realistic liberal idealism is a ‘solidarity among strangers’ who renounce violence and learn to master conflicts, but concede to one another the right to remain strangers in significant respects.21 Our stress on solidarity and subsidiarity in the context of an ethic of human rights and responsibility (variously grounded in a humanistic or religious basis) provides a critique of the ‘delusion … that modern society will be held together by the Internet and globalized markets, by economic and social modernization. A universal spiritual culture on a [realistic] technological basis is not in sight’, nor in principle is it possible.22 It is possible, however, to ground a universal spiritual culture, or ethical consensus centred on human dignity, on abhorrence at twentieth-century existential experiences of cruelty, tyranny and deception. Our memories of the history of the world since 1914 and its atrocities can be the basis of a ‘liberalism of fear’, a liberalism that does not assume an optimistic faith in reason, progress and harmony in international affairs. Though there is a plurality of problematic views of the supreme good, there is but one ultimate evil: ‘cruelty and the fear it inspires, and the very fear of fear itself’. Such a universal viewpoint appeals to a global moral consensus based on the existential experience and emotions of the least powerful persons and the likeliest victims to be found in all societies and cultures, and especially the moral needs of refugees, exiles, and minorities – ‘involuntary misfits fallen between society’s cracks’.23 A universal imperative may be proposed as a response to this existential experience of fear and terror: Seek to protect as much as possible all human beings, and in particular minorities, refugees, exiles, and the most vulnerable in our society, against cruelty, oppression, and fear. To be sure, this imperative requires us to perform the negative duty of doing no harm in these regards, but also the more positive and wider duty of beneficence or assistance. To be beneficent we need to overcome that indifference and neglect which usually result in injustice, though in most cases, most of the time, idealpolitik accepts the qualification that assistance is obligatory only ‘when the costs to ourselves are not disproportionate’ to

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the demands of self-interest and national interest and we have the resources to provide such assistance.24 Accordingly, in principle, the global community ought to intervene in civil wars and other forms of internal strife not only to put an end to disorder and domestic strife that is a genuine threat to peace and security across borders, but also to end massive or gross violations of human rights. The presumption should be to intervene against such gross violations,25 even at the expense of the principles of state sovereignty and national selfdetermination, even though a decision for coercive intervention should be a last resort arrived at through careful moral reflection and prudential calculation of consequences.26 Our core global ethic views human rights as necessary empowerments that persons and citizens must have to protect themselves from abuse by individuals, states and markets.27 Though we prioritize the dignity of persons, our position does not entail the ideology of reductive individualism that values all activities and relations as mere individual goods. Individuals do want and need to belong to associations and communities that embody common interests and goods, but they also need and want ‘not to be crushed, confined, or defined by them’. Associations, communities, states and would-be peoples can all be dangerous to the dignity of persons, and must ultimately be held transparently accountable to the consent of persons with inalienable dignity.28 Two principles embody these considerations. First, human beings ought to be treated ‘humanely’, as possessing inalienable dignity, that is, as ends in themselves, not merely as means or objects of another’s intentions, without distinction of age, sex, race, skin colour, physical or mental ability, language, religion, political view or national or social origin.29 Second, there is a wide consensus among the world’s major religions about the principle of reciprocity: that leaders of states and international organizations (and, indeed, all individuals) place the Golden Rule (treat others as you wish to be treated in return) at the centre of their strategies for enhancing their security and welfare.30 This core global morality or moral minimalism – especially the negative injunctions against murder, torture, deceit, oppression and tyranny – does not ‘make for a full-blooded universal doctrine’, but does make ‘for a certain limited, though important and heartening solidarity’ in the midst of personal or social crises and political confrontations.31

General lessons and recommendations 1. ‘Learning to learn’ – using integrative, holistic thinking In the context of neo-idealism or idealpolitik, we advocate holistic and integrative institutional social learning as the best general approach for the

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United Nations to take now and in the foreseeable future, rather than simply continue with reformist ad hoc tinkering or reflexive, fragmented adaptation.32 The latter two modes of change are valuable under some circumstances and for specific purposes (bureaucratic efficiency, accountability of personnel for expenses, etc.) because reforming procedures and reflexively adapting operations are forms of trial-and-error learning. Social learning, however, as opposed to mere reformist or reflexive adaptation, engages in questioning and revising means and ends ‘on the basis of consensual knowledge that has become available’ that deals with major political, economic, and social problems.33 Indeed, the problem of system overload – that the United Nations has become committed to solving more conflict situations than it could manage or finance – and a general commitment to counter political cultures of conflict with cultures of intelligent, cooperative problem-solving require the more radical response provided by institutional learning. Institutional learning must have an important role for developing consensual knowledge about what is in the common interest and for the common good of all those governments and peoples, working through the variety of conflicting interpretations of national interests and world interests. ‘Consensual knowledge is best thought of as the confluence of streams of thought that began as ideological knowledge and eventually transcend any personal or class-based characteristics of their founders.’34 We can agree, at least, on the broad outlines of the notion of holistic rationality that can be universally practised and distinguished from arguments based on ideological, personal, class or state-centric perspectives. This third model requires rethinking, that is, a re-examination of the United Nations’ goals, and a realignment of its structure to meet the changed demands of international society, and Charter modifications. However, ours is an era of ‘ever increasing change through an ever increasing expansion of knowledge. To operate on the level of our day is to apply the best available knowledge and the most efficient techniques to coordinated group action.’35 Accordingly, the United Nations must interact more closely with civil society, especially with members of the global academic (and epistemic) community. And it must do so beyond the past narrow compartmentalization along disciplinary and sectoral lines. This third change process model advocates an entire managed change process, we will recall from chapter 2. The inter-subdisciplinary contributions of this book provide analyses and data for reflection by other analysts and political leaders and actors who, according to our process learning model of change, ought constantly to seek to respond to interdisciplinary, integrated scientific, human and social analyses. The process of changing through learning is essentially one of questioning data that ends up questioning new data that either verify or falsify the judgements about truth and validity that were made along the way. The data themselves are never neutral

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but include interpretation and answers to prior questions that may have been forgotten. Thus interpreted, the process to be followed is as follows: (a) Leaders, advised by scientists and analysts, at all levels, put questions to the best data available to arrive at insights about what the problems are, judgements about their causality and future consequences, and the most likely policy solutions in the context of the latest scientific and analytical advances. (b) Plans are initiated for the best attainable policy solutions. (c) Policy plans are implemented through a process that prioritizes (thin, political cultural) solidarity and subsidiarity. (d) Institutionalization of global governance mechanisms is carried out in regimes and enforcement mechanisms that may override Article 2(7) of the UN Charter. (e) Evaluation and feedback is carried out by the United Nations, other IOs, NGOs, universities and think tanks to provide probable verifications and falsifications of the entire process of responding to given challenges. The aim of integrating scientific and human studies should be ‘to generate well-informed and continuously revised policies and plans for promoting good and undoing evil’ in global society generally. These studies will have to occur at all levels – local, regional, national and international – and according to the principle of subsidiarity problems will be defined and worked out as much as possible at the local (or most immediate) levels. However, higher levels can provide exchange/network centres, where information on successful and unsuccessful solutions is accumulated to be made available to inquiries and so prevent the useless duplication of investigations. Moreover, the higher levels will work on the larger and more intricate global problems that have no adequate solutions at the local levels and may organize the lower levels to collaborate in the application of the solutions to which they conclude. Finally, ‘there is the general task of coordination, of working out in detail what kinds of problems are prevalent, at what level they are best studied, how all concerned on any given type of issue are to be organized for a collaborative effort.’36 This process, then, combines both top-down and bottom-up modes of wielding influence and participating in decision-making. One can envisage this learning process as a never-ending self-critical and self-correcting progressive, spiralling process that questions data, seeks to attain insight into or understand the data, makes judgements about factual truth and normative validity of the data, and responds to the consequences of acting on those judgements. Such a self-critical and self-correcting process of learning, then, strives to understand and implement more complex schemes responding to more complex problems, so that a set of questions

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duly answered, implemented and reflected upon lead to another set of questions which must be addressed. ‘Learning, then, is the ability of a social collectivity to recognize pattern interdependence, reciprocity and decisional techniques so as to increasingly succeed in attaining desired values,’37 and follows the general pattern of differentiation, unification, and partial decomposition of the solution found to determine the appropriate means of implementation. We argue that what is needed is reflective-adjustment of organizational means and ends characteristic of institutional-social learning – not mere tinkering or responding, but rethinking in both instrumental and political–ethical terms. Such learning, then, does re-evaluate operations in terms of instrumental rationality that clarifies whether the best available means were employed to attain given security, human rights, economic and ecological ends. In addition, though, institutional learning goes beyond instrumental rationality to ‘enter a discursive mode or arguing, persuading, and communicating. The challenging and revising of means and ends implies that actors move beyond exogenous instrumental motivations and engage in serious conversations about truth claims.’38 Martin Rochester makes a valuable attempt to hit a realistic medium between ad hoc tinkering and rethinking, given his concern for the contemporary systemic contexts in which the United Nations must operate.39 For he thinks that the United Nations and other international organizations are more vulnerable today to events occurring in their environment because of the speed at which systemic movement is relayed. But the importance of ‘boundary-role occupants’ and ‘linking-pin’ organizations in filtering exogenous forces for change and bracing the United Nations to withstand the shocks of disequilibrating systemic forces40 counters Rochester’s legitimate concerns. In the end, Rochester exhibits a mainstream reformist impulse, in spite of his attempt to portray a more radical orientation, because he remains wedded to a state-centric (national interest) conceptualization of global politics, despite his own acknowledgement that there has been a change in the Westphalian order. None the less, Rochester’s main recommendations for change are thought-provoking. His advocacy of the United Nations as a global guidance mechanism that would systematically (not sporadically) work at being a cooperation manager, rather than a conflict manager, at being proactive rather than reactive is sound. So too is his prescriptive recommendation for a Deutschian pluralistic community to be ushered in not by a reflexive or near-unconscious process but rather through purposive organizational design and some ‘steering’ by the central guidance mechanism aided by a dominant coalition of states with the necessary political will to goad the system in the ‘right’ direction.41 The germane change agenda and strategy for the United Nations at this time of transition should be one that is sensitive to the impact of the forces

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for change coming from the organization’s environment. It should also be informed by long historical trends in multilateralism. Yet, this change agenda cannot be so far-fetched as to alienate those who will be in the strongest position to implement it, that is, the most powerful UN member states. The United Nations’ failures and fiascos have largely resulted from the ambivalences and confusions of member states.42 Realistically, some aspects of this new approach will necessarily have to be radical – a call for a rethinking of some of the fundamental principles upon which the world body was founded. But others may simply require an oiling of the machine and a pruning of wasteful elements (budgets and bureaucratic efficiency). In general, according to institutional learning, ‘human collectivities choose more complexly and discriminatingly as they come to know and understand more. … [T]hings get better for us as our routines for choosing become capable of searching for solutions that get more sophisticated in recognizing complexity.’43 Accordingly, in transitional operations, for example, the decision concerning how much administrative responsibility to take in must be evaluated on a situational basis and UN planners should develop models incorporating several options. In the case of issues involving global economic stability, justice and ecological problems, such institutionalization must involve continual integration of scientific–analytical knowledge provided by the universities and think-tanks with the United Nations’ own, proper capability. The United Nations’ role should be primarily a coordinating role, fostering networks and cooperation among such groups. 2. Learning in progress: a complex agenda for information-processing and intelligence-gathering The United Nations must continue to study and consolidate its understanding of the lessons arising from its mounting body of experience, while avoiding the delusional self-congratulations which have marked even incomplete successes such as Namibia and Cambodia. It must continue to develop expertise in designing and supervising processes of free and fair elections in conjunction with NGOs, taking the lead in fostering networks of cooperation among such groups, so that even where its own resources are insufficient, it can organize consortia with the combined strength to do so, or provide expertise and support to regional organizations, or like-minded groups of states, taking the lead. If institutional learning is to become an ongoing process at the United Nations, establishing an autonomous intelligence capability is a necessary though not a sufficient condition for so doing. The UNAMIR Report of the UN Lessons Learned Unit stresses that the lack of information analysis continued to be a problem even after UNAMIR was deployed, lacking as it did the capability to collect, analyse, and disseminate information. Despite the interdepartmental framework encompassing DPA, DPKO and DHA which

Conclusion 245

was set up to improve planning and coordination in response to UNAMIR’s and other experiences, this amounts to nothing more than mere tinkering. The United Nations needs to overcome its traditional aversion to the collection and use of intelligence information, and re-evaluate its attitude towards intelligence and information in peacekeeping and all other operations. The United Nations requires a system for drawing on existing information sources as well as specialized units with operational responsibilities for analysing information and translating it into evolving strategic options. We agree with the Report as well when it calls for improving the information provided by member states and under the SRSG, at the field level, a joint military–civilian information analysis mechanism with the necessary resources manned by qualified military, political and humanitarian analysts, with the capability to direct, collect, analyse and disseminate information to allow missions to make a more proactive, rather than reactive response to situations in the field.44 Moreover, the former Yugoslavian and Somalian operations did not go well in part because the United Nations failed to obtain support from influential segments of the population, whereas the Cambodian and Namibian operations benefited from strong local information programmes. Increasing the United Nations’ intelligence and information capabilities, then, is crucial. 3. Establish proactive and preventive diplomacy and soft intervention In general, we have learned the lesson that, as presently organized, the United Nations’ institutions are relevant, effective and relatively efficient with regard to the function of diplomatic discussions and representation rather than the management of pressing strategic or socioeconomic issues.45 Indeed, with regard to diplomacy, states now feel obliged to justify their actions before the main UN bodies, even when their actions may appear contrary to Charter principles.46 Moreover, almost all states are reluctant to withdraw from membership in the General Assembly and Security Council, though there has been less reluctance with regard to withdrawing from subsidiary bodies (such as the Specialized Agencies). Accordingly, an important lesson is to strengthen what the United Nations can do best. The proven success of the United Nations in the realm of diplomatic dialogue should be further bolstered by expanding diplomacy in all its forms to stress preventive deployment and soft intervention, a proactive rather than a reactive mode of action (making managing cooperation more important than responding to conflicts). This type of proactive diplomacy should be carried out in the context of careful evaluations of the underlying causes of given conflicts (we will recall in chapter 6 that this was not done in the case of Somalia) that follow from our advocacy of institutional learning. The Macedonian example of preventive peacekeeping (chapter 5), on the other hand, is a good example of a success resulting from proactive timing

246 W. A. Knight and J. Masciulli

and a clear and feasible mandate. The limited success of UNTAC in Cambodia (chapter 11) shows that to be effective, the United Nations needs to be more professionalized and streamlined, and to be provided with resources adequate for carrying out its tasks. That operation shows the weakness of an analytically simplistic understanding of the nature of domestic conflict and the lack of appreciation of the insecurity dilemma that enveloped the adversaries (requiring them to do everything possible to preserve themselves at the expense of those perceived as enemies). It thus shows the need for the United Nations to improve its capability in conflict neutralization – a process whereby domestic conflict can be rendered inactive by the United Nations playing the role of a legitimate third party authority (backed by a collaborative but impartial Security Council) capable of turning the battlefield into a ballot-box. In general, the United Nations’ role in conflict neutralization should be more preventive and protective than punitive. There is, of course, room for coercion, but it should be applied only if the target party will not perceive its vulnerability to be unacceptably high or to the point where it feels its security interest is being sacrificed. 4. Make institutional innovations for greater authority and legitimacy As a precondition for an expanded diplomatic-preventive role and more effective field operations there is a consensus developing that general institutional reforms are needed: the United Nations must get members to pay or find alternative sources of funding for global security and other efforts; the bureaucracy and operations personnel must be held to high standards of efficiency and accountability for expenses; the Security Council must be made more legitimate by an expansion of the permanent members (with or without veto) to mirror better the polycentrism of power and culture globally today; the General Assembly must be supplemented by a Peoples’ Assembly representing NGOs, multinationals and transnational religious and ideological movements, and; the International Criminal Court must become a reality through the ratification of the Rome Statute by a majority of UN member states. It is essential to adopt a subsidiarity model of global governance, learning from the experience of the European Union and based on Chapter VIII of the Charter. Not only is this model ethically sound because of its assumption of the centrality of individual and group responsibility, but its encouragement of increased roles for NGOs and regional agencies responds to the overload problem that the United Nations’ central institutions are challenged by. 5. Clarify priorities and goals and establish a rapid reaction force Priorities need to be established according to a two-track approach. The United Nations must give immediate priority to cases involving acute

Conclusion 247

suffering in large numbers of people, particularly in situations where state mechanisms have failed. But longer-term problems should also be addressed in the spirit of both ‘top-down’ and ‘bottom-up’ subsidiarity.47 The United Nations’ goals in implementing Resolution 687 with regard to Iraq, as Dallmeyer convincingly established in Chapter 9, were not sufficiently clear and hence could not be effectively implemented. In general, what must be avoided is the blurring of the distinction between peacekeeping and enforcement actions, the resort to ‘interpositional peacekeeping’ in a conflict in which there is no ceasefire at all (Bosnia) or a very shaky one (Croatia), or there are no organized parties (Somalia). On the other hand, the distinction between international and internal disputes ought to be softened or even abolished whenever the latter are or should be of general concern. Our case studies have shown that the United Nations did not respond quickly and decisively on key occasions. It has not been equipped to deal with collapsing states or rulers who engage in massive human rights violations. The desirability of a rapid reaction capability for enforcement to deal especially with intra-state conflicts (the vast majority of post-Cold War conflicts) is beyond doubt. This capability would be in between peacekeeping and collective enforcement actions. It is critical, as we said above, to distinguish peacekeeping from enforcement actions, and in general to contract out enforcement to appropriate regional bodies, except where a rapid reaction force is appropriate. But as Keating notes in Chapter 13, where different institutions are involved in a civil conflict, every effort should be spent on coordinating the efforts of these organizations so that they move toward a common purpose. The transitional operations in Namibia, Cambodia and Angola (not to speak of the Rwanda fiasco) have shown that the United Nations needs to improve its capacity for rapid reaction and must be given greater freedom of action in relation to the increasingly anachronistic ‘sovereignty-bound’ constraints of the state-centric world. 6. Make normative a model of strong and ethical leadership Strong and extraordinary leadership has been a central factor in accounting for the United Nations’ credibility and effectiveness in the Namibian operation. There is a need for strong and effective leadership at central UN institutions and in NGOs that operate in conjunction with the United Nations. Institutional learning is inseparable from authentic and responsible leadership that exercises discursive intelligence and understanding in the face of political complexity and dilemmas, as well as the power of resolute decision grounded in an ethically inspired vision. Though competence in strategy and bureaucratic thinking are important, authentic leadership should not be focused on old-style geopolitical power strategy nor on a technocratic orientation centred on instrumental rationality. The

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Secretary-General is elected by member governments of the United Nations, but he or she is supposed to represent the common or world interests in the implementation of the principles of the Charter. As the United Nations’ executive head, the Secretary-General (see Articles 33 and 97–99 of the Charter) exercises significant formal power through his official position as head of the bureaucracy and in his role of bringing matters to the attention of the Security Council and the General Assembly. Still, his power is inherently limited because the members of the Security Council and General Assembly retain most of the power to make decisions and fund operations. Thus the quality and significance of executive leadership at the United Nations depend on the Secretary-General’s informal powers derived from his personal characteristics, not on his official administrative and political rights and duties. Some characteristics – such as the length of association with UN institutions – though significant, are of secondary importance. However, the central set of personality skills and moral character traits that he essentially needs are courage and prudence, impartiality and unlimited patience, a sense of justice and humanity, and the ability to influence through quiet negotiation and persuasion, agenda-setting and style of implementation of Council and Assembly decisions.48 Such an ideal model of one who excels in the art of dialogue, mutual understanding and compromise is an appropriate standard for filling the role of the Secretary-General who needs to provide good offices and conduct a variety of negotiations. Since the Secretary-General lacks the material, hard elements of power that leaders of states possess, he – like leaders of promotional NGOs advocating ecological responsibility, the enforcement of human rights and peace and disarmament – must rely on moral suasion and ideological legitimacy derived from his fidelity to the Charter (creative fidelity to Article 99) and attached to the near-universally shared goals of peace and justice pursued by the United Nations. Moreover, the Secretary-General’s personal charisma, personal status acquired outside the organization, expert knowledge and ability to be resolute and exercise political will, even to the point of intransigence, are key determinants of his overall power or capacity to influence decisions and outcomes.49 Lastly, the Secretary-General must deal with the tensions created by the different perspectives and concerns taken by political, military, humanitarian and developmental leaders and personnel in the United Nations and among its collaborative IGOs and NGOs. They all seek to protect their independence fiercely. The Secretary-General must insist on a proper balance between independence and interdependence of all subordinate leadership groups and on the fact that the office embodies the legitimacy to give comprehensive moral-political direction to the changes that are necessary for the United Nations to remain a relevant body of global governance in the twenty-first century.

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The UN’s idealpolitik should have as its ultimate, noble goal the elimination as much as possible of the state of nature or anarchy that still defines our turbulent era. One of the signs that we are moving into a postmodern era is the fact that state sovereignty is leaking. Leaving things primarily to state sovereignty, anarchy and chance is not a wise response to our new global reality. This new global reality requires that multilateral institutions, such as the UN system, make requisite adjustments. However, before those adaptations are initiated it is useful, as we have done in this volume, to draw on the lessons learned about the organization’s experience in the past.

Notes 1. Paul Diehl, ‘Introduction’, in Paul Diehl (ed.), Global Governance (Boulder, Col.: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1997), pp. 1–4. 2. Stanley Hoffmann, World Disorders (Lanham, Md.: Rowland & Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 1998), pp. 177–85. 3. Hans Morgenthau, Politics among Nations (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1973), pp. 3–15, 225–9. 4. Henry Kissinger, Diplomacy (New York: Knopf, 1994), p. 891. 5. Ibid., pp. 812–13. 6. Charles W. Kegley and Gregory A. Raymond, ‘Great Power Politics in the 21st Century,’ in Charles W. Kegley, Jr. and Eugene R. Wittkopf (eds.), The Global Agenda (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1998), pp. 182–3. 7. See James N. Rosenau, ‘The Dynamism of a Turbulent World’, in Michael T. Klare and Yogesh Chandrani (eds.), World Security (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1998); and Samuel Huntington, ‘The Clash of Civilizations’, Foreign Affairs (Summer 1993). 8. James N. Rosenau and Mary Durfee, Thinking Theory Thoroughly (Boulder, Col.: Westview Press, 1995), p. 41. 9. Rosenau, ‘The Dynamism of a Turbulent World’. 10. Hoffmann, World Disorders. 11. Rosenau, ‘Dynamism’, p. 34. 12. Seyom Brown, ‘World Interests and the Changing Demands of Security’, in Michael T. Klare and Yogesh Chandrani (eds.), World Security (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1998), p. 16. 13. Kofi Annan, ‘The Quiet Revolution’, Global Governance, vol. 4, no. 2 (1998), p. 128. 14. See Hans Küng, A Global Ethic for Global Politics and Global Economics (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), pp. 109–13. 15. Michael Walzer, Thick and Thin: Moral Argument at Home and Abroad (Indiana: Notre Dame University Press, 1994); The Commission on Global Governance, Our Global Neighborhood (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995); Preventing Deadly Conflict (New York: Carnegie Corporation, 1997). 16. For a recent Canadian explication of ‘soft power’, see ‘We’re doing things nobody else can do: Canada can use its “soft power” to change the world, Axworthy says’, Ottawa Citizen (5 April 1998), p. A7. 17. Rosenau and Durfee, Thinking Theory Thoroughly, p. 62. 18. Joseph Nye (1991), as quoted by Benjamin Barber, Jihad vs. Mcworld (New York: Ballantine Books, 1995), p. 51.

250 W. A. Knight and J. Masciulli 19. Josef Fuchs, Moral Demands and Personal Obligations (Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 1993). 20. See W. Andy Knight, ‘Towards a Subsidiarity Model for Peacemaking and Preventive Diplomacy: Making Chapter VIII of the UN Charter Operational’, Third World Quarterly, vol. 17, no. 1 (March 1996); Küng, A Global Ethic; and Seyom Brown, ‘World Interests’. 21. Jürgen Habermas, Between Facts and Norms, trans. by W. Rehg (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1992/1996), p. 308. 22. Küng, A Global Ethic, p. 142. 23. Judith N. Shklar, ‘The Liberalism of Fear’, in Nancy Rosenblum (ed.), Liberalism and the Moral Life (Cambridge, Mass.: Cambridge University Press, 1989), pp. 34–45; Hoffmann, World Disorders, pp. 51–3. 24. Michael W. Doyle, Ways of War and Peace (New York: Norton, 1997), pp. 383–4. 25. See Hoffmann, World Disorders, p. 182. 26. Walzer, Thick and Thin, pp. 4, 16. 27. Jack Donnelly, International Human Rights, 2nd edition (Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press, 1988), Chapters 1 and 2. 28. Hoffmann, World Disorders, p. 52. 29. See Küng, A Global Ethic, p. 110, and Fuchs, Moral Demands, p. 202. 30. See Charles W. Kegley, Jr., ‘The New Global Order: The Power of Principle in a Pluralistic World’, Ethics and International Affairs, ed. Joel H. Rosenthal (Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 1995), p. 122; and Küng, A Global Ethic, p. 110. 31. Walzer, Thick and Thin, pp. 3–6, 11. 32. Ernst B. Haas, When Knowledge is Power (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), pp. 17–54; and Annan, Quiet Revolution’, pp. 135–8. 33. Ernst B. Haas, ‘Reason and Change in International Life: Justifying a Hypothesis’, Journal of International Affairs, 1997, pp. 209–40. 34. Haas, When Knowledge is Power, p. 211. 35. Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology (New York: Herder and Herder, 1973), p. 367. 36. Ibid., p. 366. 37. Haas, When Knowledge is Power, p. 214. 38. Thomas Risse-Kappen, ‘In Defense of Liberal Nationalism’, Mershon International Studies Review, 42 (1998), pp. 177–9. 39. J. Martin, Rochester, Waiting for the Millennium: The United Nations and the Future of World Order (South Carolina: University of South Carolina Press, 1993). 40. Christer Jönsson, ‘Interorganization Theory and the International Organization’, International Studies Quarterly, vol. 30, no. 1 (March 1986). 41. Rochester, Waiting for the Millennium. 42. Hoffmann, World Disorders, p. 150. 43. Haas, When Knowledge is Power, p. 212. 44. UN Lessons Learned Unit, UNAMIR Report 1999, p. 7, . 45. Daniele Archibugi, in Daniele Archibugi and David Held (eds.) Cosmopolitian Democracy (New York: Polity Press, 1995), p. 7. 46. Diehl, Global Governance, p. 2. 47. W. Andy Knight, ‘Multilatéralisme ascendant et descendant: deux voies dans la quête d’une gouverne globale’, in Michel Fortmann, S. Neil MacFarlane and Stéphane Roussel (eds.), Tous pour un ou chacun pour soi: promesses et limites de la coopération régionale en matière de sécurité (Québec: Institut Québécois des Hautes Études Internationales, Université Laval, 1996), pp. 43–70.

Conclusion 251 48. Javier Perez de Cuellar, ‘The Role of the UN Secretary-General’, in Paul Diehil (ed.), The Politics of Global Governance Boulder, Col.: Lynne Rienner, 1993), pp. 91–101. 49. Robert Cox and Harold K. Jacobson, ‘The Framework for Inquiry’, in Paul Diehl (ed.), The Politics of Global Governance (Boulder, Col.: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1997), pp. 82–6.

Index Acid rain, 191 ACUNS, xx, xxi Ad hoc Advisory Group, 148 Adam, Hussein, 80 Adaptation, 1, 30, 47, 240, 249 Addis Ababa, 84 Aden, 82 Adolescence, 47 Advanced industrial societies, 23 Adversarial relations, 121 Aerial bombing, 186 Aerial photography, 130 Afghanistan, 116 Africa, 23, 78, 84, 204, 206 Africa Orientale Italiana, 84 Agenda 21, 207, 211 Aggression, xx, 3, 45, 70, 100, 187, 204–8 Ahtisaari, Martti, 165, 167, 172 Aideed, General Mohammed Farah, 86, 88 AIDS, 13 Akashi, Yasushi, 70, 101, 103 Albania, 66–71, 179, 184 ethnic Albanians, 185 Albright, Madeleine, 68, 181 Algeria, 60 Allegations, 116, 124 Allied bombs, 130 Amazon deforestation, 204 Amer, Ramses, 153 American superpower, see United States Americas, 140 An Agenda for Peace, 46, 67 Anachronistic concepts, 47 Anachronistic institutions, 42 Anarchy, 249 Anderson, Benedict, 13 Anderson, James, 59, 64n Andor, Stojan, 71 Anglo-Ethiopian border treaties, 82 Angola, 70, 163, 165, 169, 170–1, 247 Angolan peace process, 166 Annan, Kofi, 144, 180, 184 Anson, Hugo, 70–1

Apartheid, xxi, 170 Apprehension, 108–9 Arabic, 131 Arabs, 79 Argentina, 142, 146 Aristide, Jean-Bertrand, 140–1, 147; see also Haiti Armaments, 120, 126 Armed conflict, 192, 204 absence of, 204 Armed forces, 106, 108 Armed struggle, 171 Armies, 23, 83, 101 Arms 78, 86 control, 115, 123, 130 embargoes, 129 limitation, 115 monitoring, 187 -producing states, 79 sales, 136 verification, 131 Army officers, 106 Arrangements ad hoc, 15 formal, 15 global governing, 16, 248 Arrest, 108 Articulating interests, 23 ASEAN, 152 Asia, 23, 116 Asphyxiating weapons see chemical weapons Assessed contributions, 90 Assurance, 119, 122 Australia, 101, 127 Authoritarian rule, 79 Authoritative value allocation, 12, 22 Authority, 106–7, 184, 237, 246 diffused, 238 informal, 238 interim, 107 local, 109 Autocratic rule, 78 Axworthy, Lloyd, 185 Azerbaijan, 118 252

Index Bacteriological weapons, 115, 116; see also biological weapons; chemical weapons Baghdad, 133; see also Iraq Baker, James, 101, 157 Balance of power, 45 Balkans, 66–8, 178, 187 Balkan conflict, 178–9 Balkan war, 67 see also Bosnia, Croatia, Kosovo, Izetbegovic, Milosovic, Serbia, Yugoslavia, Yugoslav Federation Ballistic missiles, 129, 130 Banditry, 144 Bantu, 79 Barbarism, 110 Barre, Mohamed Siyaad, 79, 86 Basic human needs, 20–1 Baudrillard, Jean, 12 Beijing, 103; see also China Belgium, 131 Belgrade, 66, 69 government of, 179 see also Serbia Belligerent parties, 107 Bentham, Jeremy, 33 Bevenot, Maurice, 31 Bhagwati, Jagdish, 223, 227 Biden, Joseph, 182 Biological and cultural diversity, 212–13 Biological weapons convention, 129 development, 132 research, 130 see also bacteriological weapons; chemical weapons Biology, 96 Biosphere, 59 Bipolar power balance, 46, 54, 59 Black, David R., xxii, 5, 163–77, 235 Blinding lasers, 125 Blix, Hans, 136 Bloc conflict, 53 Blue berets, 68; see also UN Blue helmets, 72; see also UN Bocinov, Dragoljub, 69 Bombing atomic, 238 psychological effects of, 186 Bosnia, xx, 145, 163, 180, 192, 247 Bosnian Accords, 188

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see also Balkans Boudreau, Thomas, 54–5 Boundary-role occupants, 243 Boutros-Ghali, Boutros, 46, 56–8, 67–8, 73, 87, 142, 163, 166, 213, 215 Brazil, 206 Breach of the peace, 204, 207 Britain, 83–5 Brown, Seyom, 236 Brutal force, 237–8 Buffer zones, 213 Bulgaria, 66, 187 Bull, Hedley, 184 Bureaucracy, 23, 83, 238 Burton, John, 20–2 Burton, Sir Richard, 80 Bush, President George, 133, 179 Buzan Barry, 54 Cambodia, 5, 60, 95, 100–1, 105, 107, 118, 150–63, 173, 244–7 Buddhist Liberal Democratic Party (BLDP), 151, 155 civil administration, 101, 103, 105 People’s Party (CPP), 104, 151 post-UNTAC, 157 UN’s role in, 151 Canada, 142, 222, 224 Cantonment, 107 Capitalism, 12, 96 capitalist economy, 152, 236 capitalist global economy, 22 global capitalist system, 82 Caribbean, 140 Carter Center, 174 Cartesian division, 12 Cartesian logic, 12 Ceasefires, 107, 129, 179, 205, 247 Central America, 163 Change, 1, 15, 28, 48, 221, 243–4, 248 agenda, 243–4 changing environment, xx, 36 changing global conditions, 2, 46 changing world, 1 in multilateralism, 237 managed, 29–30, 35, 241 management process, 29–30 modes of, 237, 240 structural, 35, 238 systemic, 95

254 Index Change process models, 2 learning, 2, 28, 31, 36, 237, 241, 244 peaceful, xx piecemeal, 15, 28 planned, 29–30 purposive, 29, 243 reflexive adaptation, 2, 23, 28 reform, 2, 28 structural, 35 Charter revision, 57 Chemical agents, 118 Chemical warfare, 116–17, 119 Chemical weapons, 4, 56, 115, 116, 119–20, 129, 135, 206 ban, 116; global, 132; violation of, 4 Chemical Weapons Convention (CWC), 119–20, 123–6 disposal, 206 use of, 4 Chernobyl, 204 Chile, 142 China, 74, 100, 157, 180, 194, 206, 234 Chopra, Jarat, xxii, 3, 4, 95–112, 168 Christianization, 82 Churches, 23 church groups, 170 Civil and political rights, 193 Civil order, 163 Civil service, 78 Civil society, 16, 22–3, 25, 46, 77–9, 82, 91, 241 Civil strife, 187 Civil war, xxi, 77–8, 81, 86, 240 Civilian administration, 105, 109, 154 industries, 206 police, 4, 73, 109, 140–9, 144–5, 153, 186 regimes, 163 Civilians, 3, 68, 73 Civilizations, 78 CIVPOL, 68–9, 101, 103 Clans clannism, 80, 83 elders, 85–6 families, 79, 81 rivalry, 43, 77–8, 85 Claude, Inis, 45 Client-state, 45 Clinton, President Bill, 184 Club of Rome, 95

Coalition forces, 130 Coalition Government of Democratic Kampuchea (CGDK), 151; see also Cambodia Coate, Roger, xxii, 2, 11–27 Coercion, 160, 167, 240, 246 Cognitive learning, 30, 34–5 Cold War, xx, 42, 53–4, 60, 65, 86, 115, 124, 137, 150, 181 end of, 3, 36, 41, 88, 95, 137, 150 ideological climate, 79 Collapsed states, 78, 247 Collateral damage, 186 Collective defence, 43 Collective enforcement, 45, 52, 193, 199, 237, 247 Collective mechanism, 110 Collective security, 3, 41–51, 65, 198, 234, 237 changing conception of, 48 limits of, 44 Colonialism, 79, 81, 83, 140 colonial administration, 82–4 colonial empire, 83 Command and control, 89 Commissions, 106–7 Commission on Global Governance, xvii, 17 Commission on Human Rights, 58 Commission on Sustainable Development, 207 Commodity pricing, 204 Common good, 237, 239, 241 Common interests, 45, 184, 240–1, 248 common international interest, 14 Common security, 14 Commonwealth, 84, 174 Communications, 59, 109, 234 Communist alliance, 43 Communitarianism, 82 Competition, 24, 47 Complementarity, 100 Complex global transorganization, 1 Complex world, xxi Compliance, 116, 119, 121–7, 129, 185, 196 Comprehensive security, 14 Compromise, 166, 248 Conceptual alternatives 46 Concert of Europe, 15, 33

Index Conferences Algeciras, 15 European, 33 Hague, 15 London, 15 Confidence-building measures, 4, 56, 67, 115, 121–4, 126–7 Conflict, 3, 42, 52–5, 88, 195, 241 analysis, 159 domestic, 246 inter-ethnic conflict, 13, 43 inter-state, 88 internal, 43 intra-state, 14, 44, 150–1, 178, 188, 247 management, 124, 243 neutralization, 160 parties to, 3 prevention, 3, 54, 65, 68, 74, 75 proliferation of, 90 relapse, 163 resolution, 154, 163 sui generis conflict, 5 underlying roots of, 3, 4, 87, 95 violent, 4, 72 Congo, 5, 53, 140 Congresses Berlin, 13 European, 33 Paris, 15 Vienna, 15 Connor, Patrick, 29 Consensual knowledge, 34, 241 Consensual practices, 16 Consultation, 117 Container metaphor, 14 Contraction, 31 Control, 110 Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW), 193 Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of Racial Discrimination (CERD), 193 Cooperation, 15, 22, 24, 71, 122, 166 cooperation manager, 243 Cordovez, Diego, 57 Corruption, 78 Cosmopolitan, 236 Counter-hegemonic coalition, 30 Cox, Robert, 18

255

Creole, 142, 146 Crime, 109–10, 157 prevention, 73 Crimes against humanity, 91, 95, 104, 157, 186 Criminal justice system, 106 Criminal organizations, 108 Criminal responsibility, 237 Criminality, 97, 100 Crisis, 47, 56, 89 Cristiani, President Alfredo, 107 Critical realism, 7 Croatia, 66, 68, 70, 247; see also Balkans Crocker, Chester, 170 Cruce, Emeric, 33 CSCE, 68, 71, 174 Cuba, 170–1, 194 Cuban missile crisis, 133 Cuban troops, 165, 170 Cultural communities, 236 Cultural determinism, 159 Cupino Brdo, 69 Currency fluctuations, 204 Currency traders, xxi Dallmeyer, Dorinda G., xxii, 4, 129–39, 206, 247 Dante, 33 Danube, 187 Darod, 79, 81, 83, 85 Dayton Peace Agreement, 73, 180, 182 De Cuellar, Perez, 55 De Saint-Pierre, Abbé, 33 De Sully, Duc, 33 Debt, 56 restructuring, 204 Decision-making theory, 29 Declaratory measures, 126 Decolonization, 47 Deconstruction, 95 Decoys, 131 Defence forces, see peacekeeping Dejammet, Ambassador Alain, 181 Demilitarization process, 129, 132 Demilitarized zones, 67, 163 Demobilization, 155, 165 demobilized soldiers, 108 Democracy, 21, 24, 152–3, 158, 164, 166, 186 democratic alternative, 74

256 Index Democracy – continued democratic debate, 237 democratic legitimacy, 238 democratization, xxi, 18 global, 191–2, 198 Democratic Kampuchea, 100; see also Cambodia Democratic Party of Albanians, 74; see also Albania Denmark, 68 ‘Desert Storm’, 43, 49n, 130; see also Gulf War Detention, 108, 109–10 facility, 110 Deterrence, 119 Deutschian pluralistic community, 243 Developed nations, 211 Developing countries, 131 Development, 11, 18, 20–1, 23–4 status quo model of, 20 Development agencies, 73 Development aid, 147 Development assistance, 20, 24, 163 Deviancy, 21 Devolution, 90 Diplomacy, 52–60, 67, 83, 186–7, 237, 245 Diplomats, 44, 103 Disarmament, 107, 115, 123, 129–39, 155, 163, 206, 248 micro-disarmament, 4, 115, 124, 126 Disease, 57, 204 Disengagement, 107 Disequilibrating forces, 243 Disorder, 77, 86, 240 Disparities, 166 Displaced persons, 101 internally, 14 see also refugees Dissolution, 31 Division of labour, 5, 178 Domestic jurisdiction, 43, 47, 70 Domestic legal system, 196 Domestic policy, 227 Domestic strife, 240 Dominant coalition, 30–1, 34, 243 Dominican Republic, 56 Donini, Antonio, 35 Donoho, Douglas, xxii, 6, 191–201 Donor states, 211

Doyle, Michael, 154–6 Draft Code of Crimes, 97–8 Drought, 81 Drucker, Peter, 226 Drug control, 146 Drug trade and trafficking, xxi, 13, 56, 73, 144 DTA, 171 Dual-purpose technology, 132, 137, 206 Dubois, Pierre, 33 Duke, Simon, 151 Duvalier, François, ‘Papa Doc’, 141; and see Haiti Duvalier, Jean Claude, ‘Baby Doc’, 141; and see Haiti Early warning and security, 3, 52, 54–9, 67, 74, 89 East Timor, 6, 191 Eastern Europe, 95 Eastern Slovenia, 145 Ecoholism, 33 Ecological degradation, 33 Ecological responsibility, 248 Economic and social development, 6, 20, 57, 158 Economic assistance, 70 Economic crisis, 56, 72, 243 Economic exploitation, 140 Economic liberalization, 57 Economic power, 15 Economic sanctions, 187, 207–9 Economic subsistence, 236 Economic, Social and Cultural Rights Covenant (ESCRC), 193 Economics, xxi ECOSOC, 57–8 Ecosystems, 204 Education, 72, 82 Effectiveness, 24, 34, 55 Efficiency, 35 Egypt, 131 El Salvador, xxi, 95, 105–7, 164 authoritarian conditions in, 107 death squads, 106 judicial system, 106 Elections, 71, 107, 143, 147, 151–2, 155–8, 165, 244 electoral component, 101 electoral exercises, 163

Index Elections – continued electoral laws, 165 electoral process, 155 electoral supervisors, 165 monitoring, 71 Elites, 22, 81 Em Chan, 104 Embedded liberalism, 18 Empirical stateness, 78 Endogenous forces, 16 Energy conservation, 206 Energy crisis, 56 Enforcement, 4, 42, 44, 87–9, 95, 99, 103, 135, 154, 204, 242, 247 of human rights, 197–9 Environment, xxi, 6, 96 environmental challenges, 206 environmental damage, 205, 207, 212 environmental degradation, 11, 13, 140, 235 environmental destruction, 204 environmental disputes, 215 environmental impact assessments, 210 environmental law, international, 202–3, 211–12 environmental maldevelopment, 205 environmental management, 206 environmental peacekeeping, 213, 244, 247 environmental policy, 207 environmental protection, 202, 204–5 environmental security, 6, 202–18 environmental technology, 206 environmental terrorism, 205 environmental threats, 57, 203, 207 global environment, 207 global environmental diplomacy, 210 international, 123, 125–6, 150 Epistemic communities, 23, 32, 34, 241 Equilibrium, 15 Ergo omnes, 97 Eritrea, 84 Ethics, 212, 233, 240 ethical consensus, 238 ethical foundation, 1, 6 ethical leadership, 247 ethical reflection, 238 Ethiopia, 82–5 Ethnicity, 80, 235

257

ethnic groups, 23, 47, 75 ethnic identity, 22 ethnic origin, 71 Ethnocentricity, 238 Ethno-entrepreneurs, 96 Euro-Atlantic Disaster Response Coordination Centre (EADRCC), 184 Europe, 80, 134, 178, 181, 183 European colony, 140 European politics, 83 European security, 68 European states, 15, 82 European TREVI, 109 European Union, 222, 225, 234, 246 Evolution, 16, 237 Exchange of ideas, 20 Executive outcomes, 98 Exogenous forces, 16, 243 Expanded human security agenda, 33 Experts, 117–18, 124–5, 131, 134 Explosives, 131 Export controls, 135 Exxon Valdez, 204 Fact-finding, fact-finders, 4, 55, 67, 115–17, 119, 120, 122, 124, 127, 198 Failed democracy, 180 Failed state, 77–8, 88, 91, 150 Famines, 57, 81, 86, 96 Farmers, 96 Federated states, 96 Finland, 68 Finnish battalion force, 172 Flag independence, 78 Flexible accumulation, 59 FMLN, 105, 106 Food scarcity, 77 security, 204 Force, disproportionate use of, 185 Ford Foundation, xviii Fordist-Keynesian model, breakdown of, 13 Foreign policy, 47, 74 France, 85, 100, 140–2, 156–7, 181 Gendarmerie Nationale, 147 Regulation School, 59 Francophony, 146

258 Index Frost, Frank, 153 FUNCINPEC, 103–4, 151–2, 155–8 Gandhi, Mahatma, xx GATT, 219–31 Gaza, 53 Gebremariam, Kassu, xxii, 3, 77–94 Genes, 204 Geneva, 135, 205 Geneva Protocol, 4, 115–16, 118–22, 129 Genocide, xx, 44, 57, 80, 100–1, 104, 157 Geopolitics, 13, 237 geopolitical power strategy, 247 Georgievski, Ljubco, 74 Germany, 187, 206, 234–5 Germanic, 80 Gibbs, Captain, 83 Giddens, Antony, 13 Gilgorov, Kiro, 66–7 Global commons, 212 Global community, 240 Global cultural homogenization, 60 Global disorder, 41 Global economy, 226 Global equity, 202 Global mechanisms, xxi Global monitoring, 52, 54, 56 Global order, 235 Global peace, 33, 193 Global political economy, 6, 220–1 Global politics, 235, 243 Global polity, 14 Global revolution, 95 Global society, 15, 237–8, 242 Global state, 237 Global structural change, 54, 59 Global system, 2, 46–7, 235; bifurcation of, 2 Global trade, 6, 223, 229 structure, 219–31 Global transition, 202 Global value dialectic, 24 Globalization, xviii, xxi, 6, 13, 219, 234–5 Golden Rule, 240 Gorbachev, Mikhail, 235 Governance, 77, 237 defined, 17, 22

global, xix, 1, 2, 5, 11–12, 15, 17–18, 23, 90, 188, 237, 242, 246; triangular nexus, 24; institutions, 123, 125 processes, 23 new patterns, 23 Government, 17, 31, 106–7, 140, 205, 210, 212 central, 77 elected, 107 interim, 156 key functions of, 163 legitimate, 87 national, 22, 78, 191 provisional, 141 Great Britain, 82, 100 Great Lakes region, 191 Great powers interests, 186 management, 18 Greece, 66 Group of 7/8, 135, 179, 181, 234; Foreign Ministers, 180 Guerrillas, 159, 105 guerrilla movement, 78 Guilt, 109 Gulf War, 4, 42–3, 45–6, 57, 129, 135, 137, 205 Haas, Ernst, 30, 32, 34 Haiti, 5, 140–9, 163, 191 ad hoc tribunal, 109 armed forces, 142 authorities, 143 coup d’état, 141 democracy in, 192, 194 economic crisis, 143 government, 142, 144, 147 independence, 140 judicial system, 147 leaders, 145 National Police (HNP), 140, 142–7 police academy, 142–3 referendum, 147 society, 141 see also Duvaliers; macoutes Hammarskjöld, Dag, 53, 56, 67 Harston, Julian, xxiii, 4, 5, 140–9 Hassan, Sheik Mohammed Abdi1e, 82 Havana Charter, 220

Index Heder, Stephen, 156 Hegemony, 46 Heininger, Janet, 154 Herzegovina, 145; see also Balkans; Bosnia Hierarchical states system, 15, 46 Hierarchical structure, 80 Hiroshima, 238 Hisbia Digile Mirfile (HDM), 84 Historical movement, 2 Historical process, 12, 22 Historical time, 164 Hitler, Adolf, xx, 185 Hobbes, Thomas, 233 Hoffmann, Stanley, 55 Holistic thinking, 240 Holocaust, 185 Horn of Africa, 79, 82–4, 86 Host country, 3, 75 Hou Leang Bann, 104 Human affairs, 12 Human development, 21 Human dignity, 238, 240 Human evolution, 22 Human interests, 236 Human knowledge, 237 Human life, 237 Human needs, 21–2 Human organism, 21 Human power, 237 Human rights, xxi, 96, 101, 102, 105, 109, 147, 154, 163, 191–201, 243 abuses, 150, 247 civil and political, 192 decision-making capacity, 191 decision-making machinery, 6 division, 106 enforcement, 196, 247–8 foundation of, 238 global ethic of, 239 law, 87 normative framework, 193 obligation, 195 protection, 237 respect for, 144 standards, 195 theory, 205 violations, 6, 33, 59, 104, 106, 184, 186, 235, 240

259

Human security, 2, 5, 11–12, 14, 18–20, 23–4, 120, 125, 182, 184–5, 188 Human society, 21 Human suffering, 89 Human survival, 204, 237 Human tragedy, 78 Human well-being, 11 Humanitarian aid workers, 86 assistance, 72–3, 87, 89, 96, 135, 184 disasters, 185 intervention, 6, 179,184–6, 188, 193, 205 relief, 183 rhetoric, 184 values, 182 Hun Sen, 102, 104, 152, 157, 159 Hungarian crisis, 55 Hurricane Georges, 147 Hyper-realism, 12 ICORC, 158 ICRC, 58 Idealpolitik, 7, 236–7, 239–40, 249 Ideational transformation, 60 Identity, 22–3, 96 Ideological fanaticism, 159 Immunity, 108 Impartiality, 87–8, 117, 126, 248 Incremental adaptation, 31, 35 Incremental growth, 30 Independence, 85, 108 Individualism, 240 Indonesia, 68, 185 Indo-Pakistani, 79 Industrial revolution, 95 Inefficiency, 47 Inertia, 47 Influence, 46 Information, xxi, 109, 122, 124, 126 information gathering, 84 information management, 55 information sharing, 187 Ing, Keith, 159 Inhumanity, 120, 125 Insecurity, 48 insecurity dilemma, 159 Inspections, 121, 130–1, 136 inspection teams, 131 Instability, sources of, 202

260 Index Institutions, 137 building, 143 capability, 89 change, 2, 191 groupings, 23 rigidity, 31 values, 22 Instrumental rationality, 243, 247 Instruments of force, 186 Intellectual property, 211 Intelligence gathering, 132–3 Interdependence, 46–7, 243 Interest groups 23 Intergovernmental organizations (IGOs), 15, 23, 30, 32, 234–5, 238 Interlocking institutions, doctrine of, 181 Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization-Democratic Party of Macedonian National Unity (VMRO-DPMNE), 74 International criminal detention centre, 110 International activity, 238 International actors, 46 International agencies, 20, 25 International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), 4, 129–20, 133, 136–7 International community, 3, 5, 6, 17, 36, 41–2, 53, 68, 77–8, 96–7, 107, 110, 116, 119, 124, 141, 148, 158, 164, 178–80, 182–8, 195, 203, 205 International Conference on the Former Yugoslavia, 67 International conventions, 107 International cooperation, 12, 24–5 International Court of Justice (ICJ), 55, 211 International crime, xxi, 97, 110, International Criminal Court, 4, 95, 97, 99–100, 107, 109–10, 135, 237, 246 International criminal law, 105, 107, 109 International criminals, 108 International forces, 108 International law, xix, 1, 4, 46, 193, 205, 213 International Law Commission (ILC), 97–100 International order, 44, 182

International organization (IO), xix, 4, 16, 20, 44, 46–7, 150, 181, 212, 234, 236, 240, 242–3 International peace and security, 3, 14, 42, 52, 54, 65, 120, 123, 192, 195, 202, 206, 209 operations, 124 International Police Task Force (IPTF), 145 International politics, 150 International principles, 213 International regimes, 16 International relations, xix, 1, 4, 41 theories of, 13 International society, 4, 33, 96, 110, 241 International system, 184, 203 International tribunal, 110 International Year of the Family, 73 Internationalization of production, 59 Internet, 239 Inter-operability, 89 Interpol, 109 Interpositional peacekeeping, 247 Inter-state system, 15, 59 Intervention, 43, 45, 54, 86–7, 141, 178–80, 184, 207, 235 by the global community, 240 permissive view of, 182 Interventionary powers, 107 Investigation, 108, 116–18 Iran–Iraq War, 56, 118 Iraq, 4, 43–4, 59, 129–39, 191–2, 204–6, 247 arsenal, 129–31 demilitarization, 132,135 documents, 136 government, 131 installations, 132 intransigence, 130 Kurds, 192 missile test, 132 nuclear weapons development, 133 officials, 130, 133 oil, 205 oil revenues, 134–5 pilots, 130, scientists, 134, 136 sovereignty, 130 weapons, 132–3 see also Baghdad

Index Iron Curtain, xx Irregular forces, 88 Isaq, 79, 81 Ishaq, 84 Islamic regional organizations, 79 Isostatic presses, 133 Italy, 82–5 Izetbegovic, Aliga, 66; see also Bosnia Jackson, John, 6, 228 James, Alan, 67 Japan, 234 Japanese war criminals, 238 Jesuit priests, 107 Jordan, 53 Judicial authorities, 105 Judicial body, 107 Judicial mechanism, 109 Judicial police, 145 Judicial system, 147 Juridical statehood, 78 Jurisdiction, 109 Jurisprudence, 197–8 Jus cogens, 97 Justice, 33, 226, 237, 248 distributive, 22 redistributive, 157 Kampong Cham, 104 Kampot, 104 Kant, Immanuel, 33 Keating, Tom, xxii, 5, 74, 178–90, 247 Kenya, 85 Keohane, Robert, 15 Keynesianism, 13 Khmer Rouge, 101, 104, 151–7 Kier Sarath, 104 Kinship groupings, 23 Kissinger, Henry, 234, 236 Klintworth, Gary, 152 Knight, W. Andy, xix, xxi, xxii, xxiii, 1, 2, 3, 11–27, 28–38, 47, 77–94, 223–51 Knowledge, 13, 237 Korea, 204 Kosovo, xviii, 5, 6, 67, 74, 178–90, 191 air attack, 185 bombing campaign, 187 ethnically cleansed, 187 governance, 188

261

Kosovars, 185 Liberation Army (KLA), 179 reconstruction, 187 UN civilian operation, 187 Verification Mission (KVM), 180 war in, 178, 179, 183 see also Balkans Kovacevic, Blagoje, 69 Kranso, Jean, xxi Krathammer, Charles, 46 Kurds, 43–5, 57, 194, 205 Kuwait, 133–5, 205 Kuwait–Iraq boundary, 135 Lake, Linda, 29 Landmines, 124–5, 191, 206 Latham, Andrew, xxiii, 4, 115–28 Latin America, 23 Launchers, 131 Lavalas, 141, 147 Law, 83, 105–7, 202–3 enforcement, 69, 109, 143 maintenance of law and order, 107 soft law, 203 Lawlessness, 77 Leaders, 238, 242 leadership, 247; global, 237 League of Arab States (LAS), 90 League of Nations, 15, 33, 42 Learning, 2, 21, 32, 47, 242–3 Legal formalism, 202 Legislative Assembly, 107 Legitimacy, 11, 21, 31, 43, 53, 178, 191, 246, 248 of regional organizations, 179 Lessons learned, xxi, 1, 6, 48, 75, 78, 86, 88, 90–1, 124, 136, 167, 174, 180, 188, 233–51 Level of analysis, 46 Levy, Jack, 31 Lewis, I. M., 79 Liberal democracy, 164 Liberal idealism, 7 Liberal institutionalism, 202 Liberalism, 12, 59, 239 Libya, 45 Like-minded states, 34, 244 Linking-pin organizations, 243 Lippitt, Gordon, 30 Lisée, Pierre, 152–3

262 Index Loridon, General Jean-Michel, 156 Lynchpin organization, 90 Lyotard, François, 12 Macedonia, 67–71, 73–5, 184 Slav Macedonians, 66 see also Balkans Machiavelli, 233, 236 Macoutes, 141, 145; see also Haiti Major powers, 164, 170–3 Malaysia, 104 Malnutrition, 11, 86 Managed interdependence, 33 Man-made disasters, 56 Markets, 18, 22, 238, 240 market forces, 96 Martin, Geoffrey R., xxiii, 6, 219–31 Marxianism, 166 Masciulli, Joseph, xxi, 6, 233–51 Mass murders, 101 Material capability, 13 Materialism, xviii Maturity, 47 Maximenko, Andrei I., xxiii, 2, 11–27 Media, 56, 71, 133, 165, 185–6 Mediation, 188 Mediators, 88 Medical personnel, 117 Mediterranean, 66 Mexico, 222, 227 Mexico City agreements, 106 Migration, 14 Military, 78, 99 action, 69, 73 , 133 assistance, 107–8 budgets, 206 capability, 46 confrontation, 151 contingents, 146 dictatorship, 141 enforcement, 155 force, 3, 42, 78, 86, 107, 109, 126–7 installations, 130 intervention, 184, 203 multinational units, 107–9 observers, 68, 73–4 personnel, 206 power, 46, 238 regimes, 141 resources, 206

secrets, 121 strikes, 187 units, 109 Military-strategic threats, 14 Milosovic, Slobadan, 66, 179, 185; see also Serbia Mine clearance, 107–8 Minorities, ethnic and linguistic, 192, 239 Missiles, 132 disposal, 206 fuel storage tanks, 131 Missile Technology Control Regime (MTCR), 123, 127, 135 sites, 130 test, 131 transporters, 131 Mitterrand, François, 156 Modernity, xviii, 1–2, 5, 11–14, 16, 163–4 Modernization, 80–1 Mogadishes, 77, 86 Mohamed, Ali Mahdi, 86 Monitoring, 121, 132 Monitors, 107 Morality, 240 moral principles, 236 moral reflection, 240 moral responsibility, 125, 202 moral suasion, 248 Morgenthau, Hans, 233–4 Morocco, 131 Moscow, 171 Mostar, 146; see also Bosnia Mozambique, 118, 163–4 Muddling through, 36 Muhammedans, 80 Multi-centric system, 236, 238 Multiculturalism, 22–3 Multifaceted transitional operations, 163 Multifunctional peacekeeping, 5, 107 Multilateral approaches, 222, 234 Multilateral governance, 2, 11, 14, 17 Multilateral institutions, xviii, 1, 5, 11–12, 28, 34, 237, 249 problem-solving approach to, 35 Multilateral instruments, rival, 16, 178 Multilateral treaties, 195

Index Multilateralism, 1, 7, 11, 237 concrete manifestations of, 1 critical approach, 17 hierarchical, 18 historical trends, 244 limited form of, 182 modernist approach, 15 Multilateralism and the UN systems (MUNS), xviii, 17, 18 nominalistic definition, 15 non-hierarchical, 18 problem-solving approach, 17, 163 progressive evolution, 18 top-down, 18 traditional, 15 US rejection of, 182 Multinational Forces (MNF), 4, 141–2 Multinational headquarters, 109 Multinational law enforcement, 107 Muslim Durres, 66 Muslims, 80, 82 NACD, 115, 120–5 Nagasaki, 238 Namibia, xxi, 70, 163–77, 244, 247 political independence, 165 post-independence, 172 question, 170 transition, 169 Narcotics, 73; see also drugs trade National Academy for Police Security, 106 National boundaries, 14, 236 National Civil Police, 106 National defence, 228 National governments, 222 National interests, 75, 178, 234, 236, 240, 243 National law, 100 National liberation, 98 National political economy, 13 National reconciliation, 77, 106–7, 143 National security, 206 National services, 109 National society, 4, 110 National technical means, 122, 126–7 Nationalism, 96, 238 Nationalist conflict, 44 Nationalist Republican Alliance (ARENA), 107

263

Nation-building, 187 Nation-state, 12, 95 Natural disasters, 56–7 resources, 237 Nazi leadership, 238 Needs fulfilment behaviour, 21 Negotiations, 116, 248 Negotiators, 124 Neoclassical trade, 6 Neo-idealism, 236, 240 Neo-liberal institutionalist, 150–1 Networking, 25 Networks, 47, 242, 244 Neutrality, 126 New global order, xx New interface principle, 6, 219–31 New millennium, xviii, xx, xxi, 1, 7, 11, 16 New world disorder, 46 New world order, 191 New York Accords, 135, 170 Nomadism, 80–3 Nominal statehood, 78 Non-aligned states, 159 Non-associational groupings, 23 Non-compliance, 119–26, 137 Non-discrimination, 195 Non-governmental actors, 6 Non-governmental community, xix, Non-governmental organizations, (NGOs), 16, 20, 23, 26, 36, 47, 56, 71, 79, 90, 98, 102, 117, 153, 157, 165, 170, 174, 183, 186, 203, 210–11, 213, 215, 234, 242, 244, 246–7, 248 Non-intervention, 13, 87 Non-Market Economies (NMEs), 228 Non-proliferation regime, 59, 115, 123 treaty (NTP), 136–7 Non-state actors, 54, 236 Non-violent change, 237 NORDBAT, 68 Nordic countries, 68–9, 75 Nordic UN Commander, 68, 73 Norms, xxi, 15–16, 22–4, 31, 41–2, 44, 47–8, 80 democratic political, 166 development, 203 environmental law, 208 human rights, 192–4, 198

264 Index Norms – continued intergenerational equity, 202 international, 185, 208 prohibitionary, 116, 119–20 sustainable development, 202 Norodom Ranariddh, 103, 158 Norodom Sihanouk, 103, 151–2, 157 North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), 224 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), 5, 178–90, 234 1991 Strategic Concept, 182 assault on Yugoslavia, 180 command, 179 council, 182 humanitarian relief, 183 intervention, 182–3, 188 legitimacy, 184 new mandate, 182 non-intervention, 180 purpose, 182 supremacy of, 189 North, 57, 225 Norway, 68 Nuclear accidents, 57 equipment, 136 experts group, 133–4 facilities, 133 fuel rods, 135 installations, 132 materials, 130 suppliers group, 135 Nuclear deterrence, 65 Nuclear families, 81 Nuremberg, 97 war crimes, 238 Nye, Joseph, 46, 54 Obligation, 121–7 Observation, 55, 69, 71, 74 Offences, 108, 110 Office for the Prevention of Chemical Weapons, 123 Officers, 108 Ogaden, 83, 85 Oil, 135 Onuf, Nicholas, 12 ONUSAL, 105 Open systems, 16–17 Oppression, 186, 240

Order, 141, 226 Ordnance, 108, 129 Organization for the Prevention of Chemical Warfare (OPCW), 119–20 Organization of African Unity (OAU), 56, 87, 90, 174 Organization of American States (OAS), 144, 174 Organization of Islamic Countries (OIC), 90 Organization of the People in Struggle (OPL), 147 Organizational change, 29, 34 Organizational development, 30 Organizational learning, 31–3 Organizational theory, 29 OSCE, 178, 180–1, 234 Ottawa Treaty, 124 Ovamboland, 172 Owen, Lord, 67 Ozone layer, 213 Paradigms, 46 Paris, 100–3 agreement, 152, 154, 156–7, 159 Partnerships, 22 Pastoral economy, 80–4 Patrilineage, 80 Patrols, 74 Peace, 6, 19–21, 163–4, 166, 179–80, 191–2, 199, 204–5, 235, 237, 248 agreements, 105–7, 151 in Bosnia, 181 concept of, 214 concert-based, 234 enforcement, 88, 146, 154, 163 liberal conception of, 202 maintenance, 3, 145, 237 pivots of, 164, 175 plans, 33 process, 108, 153, 157 and security, 3, 97 Peacebuilding, 72–3, 77, 145–8, 154, 163–4, 173, 179, 237 post-conflict, 3, 4, 147, 187 pre-conflict, 3, 4 Peaceful settlement, 77 Peacekeepers, xx, 88

Index Peacekeeping, 3, 36, 43, 47, 55, 65, 67, 70, 73, 75, 77, 88–90, 105, 144–7, 154, 187, 237, 247 environmental, 213 fatigue, 164 multifunctional, 5, 107 Peacemaking, 3, 4, 115, 126, 237 Penn, William, 33 Pentagon, 188 People’s Republic of Kampuchea (PRK), 151–2, 155–6, 159; see also Cambodia Peou, Sorpong, xxiv, 5, 100, 150–62 Permanent Court of International Justice (PCIJ), 15 Persians, 79 Personnel, 108, 131 Persuasion, 237, 248 Peter, Ingo, xviii Petrochemicals, 3, 133 Phnom Penh, 103–4, 151–2, 156–8 Planetary trust, 205 Plantations, 83 Poisonous gases, 115; see chemical weapons Pol Pot, 100–1, 152; see also Cambodia Polanyi, Karl, 226 Police, 73, 83, 103–4, 106–9, 154, 165, 188 monitors, 168 powers, 108 Policy, 20, 242 policy-relevant knowledge, 32 Political coercion, 42 Political disorder, 96 Political fragmentation, 95 Political governance, 7 Political instability, 140 Political order, 13 Political parties, 23, 71, 75, 84–5, 108, 170 Political prisoners, 110, 165 Political will, 3, 35, 75, 89, 243, 248 Pollution, 205, 207, 209 Polycentricism, 7, 246 Ponce, General René, 107 Popular participation, 21 Population, 108, 110, 236 Porcell, Gerard, 154 Port-au-Prince, 146; see also Haiti

265

Positivism, xviii, 12 Post-Cold War, 3, 22, 43, 52, 54–5, 60, 86, 125, 151, 154, 163, 178, 184, 210, 215, 233, 247 Postcolonialism, 78 Post-conflict, 126 Post-decolonization era, 170 Post-Fordism, 59 Postmodernity, xviii, 1, 5, 12, 14, 16, 48n, 115, 119–20, 123–4, 163, 173 era, 1–2, 7, 11, 36, 47, 52, 95, 121, 125, 220, 249 global trade structure, 220, 237 world, xx, 6, 12, 191, 202, 215 Post-realism, 236 Poverty, 11, 72, 226 eradication of, 204 Power, 17, 46–8, 98, 233, 237, 248 as a conceptual tool, 159 coercive, 45, 238 contestation of, 17, 238 economic, 234, 238 hard, 238, 248 instrumental, 234 intangible, 238 military, 234, 238 soft, 238 sources of, 189 transfer of, 107 Prague, xx Predictability, 15 Preeg, Ernest, 226 Pre-modernity, 13 Preparatory Committee, 99, 100 Prespa Lakes, 74 Press observers, 165; see also media Pretoria, 165, 171 Preval, President René, 142–4, 147 Prevention, 52, 59, 89, 188; lack of, 179 preventive deployment, 3, 65–75, 145, 237 preventive diplomacy, 3, 4, 52–60, 67, 88, 137, 245 preventive peacekeeping, 245 Principles, 15, 16, 48, 185 Private property, 12, 158 Prosecution, 103, 105–10 Protectionism, 222–3, 229 Protocol, 116–18

266 Index Protracted conflicts, 5, 150 Public international unions, 15 Public order, 106, 236 Punishment, 110, 186 Purposive design, 35 Quiet diplomacy, 55 Radical change, 35 Radioisotopes, 134 Rahanweh, 80–1, 83 Ramcharan, B.G., 55–7 Rape, 86, 96 Rapid reaction, 87–9, 143, 174, 246–7 Rational choice theory, 29 Rational comprehensive model, 29 Realists, 46, 150, 234, 236 Realpolitik, 233–4, 237 limitations of, 234–6 Reciprocity, 15, 243, 240 Reconstruction, 95, 164, 188 of national and police defence forces, 107–8 post-conflict, 163 post-independence, 165 Reflective mode, 34, 243 Reflexive adaptation, 2, 30–1, 47, 237, 240, 243 Reform, 2, 15, 24, 29–31, 55, 60, 84–5, 96, 106, 147, 191–2, 199, 240, 246 economic, 229 enforcement model, 198 human rights, 193, 197–8 promotional model, 198 of UN decision-making, 191 Reformist impulse, 243 Refugees, 86, 101, 163, 165, 184, 204, 239 flows, 13–14, 43 and see displacd persons Regional conflicts, 164 Regional cooperation, 96 Regional institutions, 56, 58 Regional organizations, 79, 90, 174, 184, 244, 247 and the UN, 179 Regional power centres, 77 Registry system, 136 Rehabilitation, 101, 154;

of disarmed fighters, 107 of displaced populations, 107–8 Relevance, xviii, 16, 24, 35–6 Religion, 23 freedom of, 195 religious groups 23 religious hatred, 71 religious identity 22 Renninger, John, 36 Reparations, 135 Repatriation, 101 Research institutes, 36 Resources, 75, 240 depletion of, 11 distribution of, xxi material, 23 transfers, 20 Rethinking, 2, 7, 28, 35–6, 233, 241, 243–4 Retrenchment, 31 Revolutionary movements, 159 Ricardo, David, 220 Rights, civic, 236 fundamental, 238 group, 195 human, xxi, 237 individual, xxi minority group, 195 property, 236 women’s, 235 Rio Declaration, 204, 210 principle, 25, 204 Rochester, Martin, 35, 243 Roma, 66 Romania, 187 Rome, 83, 99–100 Rome Statute, 246 Roosevelt, President Franklin, 141 Rosenau, James, 236 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 33 Ruggie, John, 15 Rule of law, 142, 144, 147, 158, 237 Rules, 80, 238 Ruspoliof, Prince, 83 Russia, 73, 156, 180, 234 Russian troops, 179 Rwanda, xx, 6, 98–9, 185, 191–2, 247 Saddam Hussein, 134 Safe havens, 192

Index Sahnoun Mohamed, 88 San José Accord, 105 Sanctions, 45, 97 economic/military, 186, 204, 209 enforcement, 124 Sar Kheng, 159 Schechter, Michael Jr., xxiv, 3, 52–64, 67 Schrijver, Nico, 209 Scud missiles, 130 SDSM, 71 Search and seizure, 108 Secession, 41 Second World War, 3, 41–2, 69, 83–5, 185, 203, 238 Security, 13–15, 23, 90, 107, 146, 155–6, 159, 189, 191, 203–4, 240, 243 collective, 2 definition of, xxi, 6, 14, 54–5, 236; new, 189, 203 dilemma, 54 environmental, 6, 215 forces, 106 global, 4, 40, 191–2, 194, 199, 237, 246 global security order, 115, 119–20, 123–5 goals of, xxi human, xxi, 2, 14 international, 214 military, 33 national, 237 physical, 21, 236 problems, xviii psychological, 20 threats, 54, 59–60, 178 Self-defence, 99, 146, 226 Self-determination, 13, 41, 96, 193, 195 Self-help, 150 Self-interest, 240 Serbia, 60, 66–7, 69, 179, 181, 187 army, 179 authorities, 179 Serbs, 66, 69 special police, 179 see also Balkans; Milosevic Settler colony, 83 Settler economy, 84 Shafei Muslims, 80 Shared causal beliefs, 32 Shared values, 46

267

Shifting coalitions, 31, 238 Shopping mall model, 24 Singer, J. David, 58 Sipska, 98 Sites, Paul, 21 Skopje, 69, 71, 73 Slave revolt, 140 Slovenia, 66 Smart bombs, 186 Smarth, Prime Minister Rosny, 143 Smith, Edwin M., xxiv, 3, 41–51, 65 Smoot-Hawley tariff, 222 SNC, 101–3 Social constructs, 12, 80 Social decay, 78 Social forces, 12, 228 Social ills, 33 Social institutions, 80, 238 Social integration, 73 Social learning, 241, 243 Social order, 22, 82, 91 Social time, 31 Social welfare, 73 development, 73 engineering, 164 inequality, 140 movements, 23 Socialism, 22 Societa Agricola Italio-Somalia (SAIS), 83 Societies, 164, 226 Sociocultural institutionalists, 150–2 Solidarity, 239–40, 242 Somalia, xx, 3, 43–4, 60, 77–94, 163, 191, 228, 245, 247 Abgal Youth Association, 84 clans, 82 politicians, 81, 88 Somali African Union (SAU), 84–5 Somali National League (SNL), 84 Somali Progressive Party (SPL), 85 Somali Youth League (SYL), 84 Somalis, 79, 87 Somaliland, 82, 84–5 Son Sann, 152, 155 Son Sann’s Khmer People’s National Liberation Front (KPNLF), 151 South African, 165–8, 170 administrator-general, 171 duplicity, 171 Foreign Ministry, 171

268 Index South African – continued government, 170 reform, 166 Southeast Asia, 154 Southern Africa, 171 Sovereign borders, 236 Sovereign equality, 13 Sovereignty, 121, 137, 235 sovereignty-bound, 168, 174, 235, 247 sovereignty-free, 235 sovereignty-locked, 23 Soviet Union, 42, 44, 101, 171 Spaced-based surveillance mechanisms, 59 Spheres of influence, 54 Stability, 141, 237 Standard operating procedures, 118, 173 Standard-setting, 24 Standby arrangement, 89 Star of Vergina, 66 START Treaty, 130 State, 96, 117–18, 144, 164, 184, 194, 238 accountability, 212 actors, 234 apparatus, 158 centric, 2, 12, 44, 174, 235–6, 247 collapse, 78 construction, 78 identity, 22 interests, 184 leaders, 240, 248 making, 150 obligation, 195 parties, 124 perspectives, 241 security, 125 sovereignty, 2, 6, 11–14, 19, 24, 42, 59, 87, 89, 96, 105, 137, 150, 180, 195, 202, 240, 249 transcendence, 2 State of nature, 249 Statelessness, 81 States, 33, 41, 45–7, 54, 57, 233, 238, 240 interests of, 184 state-society, 81, 91 statebuilding, 78, 84, 91 Status quo, 16, 29, 34, 45, 96, 213

Stockholm Conference, 207 Stoll, Richard J., 58 Strange, Susan, 223, 226 Strategic planning, 34, 89 Structures, 22 Subnational forces, 47 Subsidiarity, 90, 239, 242, 246–7 Suez, 53 Suez crisis, 55 Suffrage, 85 Sufism, 80 Superguns, 131 Superpowers, 42, 45, 48, 54, 86, 137, 170 Supplier regimes, 123 Supranational governance, 20 Surplus value, 83 Survival-growth mechanism, 21 Sustainable development, 18, 20, 72, 207, 211 Sustainable human development, 18–22 Swakopmund, 169 SWAPO, 165, 167, 169, 171 SWAPOL, 167 Sweden, 68, 206 Syria, 131 Ta Mok, General, 104 Taiwan, 74 Taxes, 83 Taylorist reform, 2 Technology, xxi, 59, 129, 211 human, 237 non-military, 236 surveillance, 13 Telecommunications, 72, 225 Tellefsen, Tryggve, 69 Territorial acquisition, 42 Territorial Council, 85 Territorial integrity, 41 Terrorism, 187 Terrorists, xxi Tetlock, Philip, 32 Tetovo, 71 Than Teaun, 104 Thayer, Nate, 156 Thessalonki, 66 Think tanks, 242, 244 Third generation organizations, 17, 28 Third party, 55, 122, 126, 160

Index Third World, 57, 86, 150 Threats, 180, 202–4 environmental, 31 new, 41 physical and psychological, 18 to peace, 42–3, 45, 52, 55–6, 240 Time-space distanciation, 13 Tinker, Catherine, xxiv, 6, 202–218, 236 Tinkering, 2, 7, 24, 28, 34–6, 233, 240, 243 Tokyo trials, 238 Tol, 80 Torture, 96, 240 Trade, 204–229 barriers, 204 Canada–US, 224 free, 219, 222, 226, 229 freer, xxi liberalization, 224, 229 theory, 223 unions, 170 US–Japan, 223 wars, 225 Trade-Related Investment Measures (TRIMs), 221, 226–7 Transformation, 2, 28, 54, Transitional era, xviii, 1, 6, 16, 28, 36, 60, 95, 243 Transitional period, 156–7, 202 Translators, 131 Transnational corporations, 222–3 Transnational forces, 47, 54, 226 Transnational managerial class, 229 Transnational problems, 6, 13, 191 Transnational religious movements, 246 Transnational social movements, 235 Treaties, 84 Treaty of Protection, 83 Tribalism, 80 Trusteeship Council, 47 Truth claims, 243 Truth Commission, 106 Turbulence, 17, 28, 36, 47, 249 model, 236 turbulent non-growth, 30 world, 236 Tussie, Diana, 224 Tuwaitha reactor, 135

269

UN Transitional Authority, 100 Uncertainty, xx UNDP, 73 report, 18, 20, 25 Ung, Sami, 103 Unilateral force, 209 Unilateral measures, 124 UNITA, 171 United Kingdom, 85 United Nations, xviii, xx, 5, 7, 15, 23, 28, 33, 36, 42–3, 56, 58–60, 71, 75, 77–9, 87–8, 96, 100, 105, 110, 116, 120–5, 132–7, 150–1, 169, 175, 178, 191–201, 215, 233–6, 238, 241 activities, 108 agencies, 19, 24 alternative financing, 90 as a global guidance mechanism as a postmodern institution, 203 assistance, 144 authorities, 156 autonomous intelligence capability, 244 body, 108 buffer zone, 70 change agenda, 36 civilian police, 3–4 Commission on Human Rights (CHR), 194 conflict management, 150 conflict neutralization, 246 conflict resolution, 150 constitutive principles, 28, 35 credibility, 247 decentralized, 24 demilitarization, 4 deployment, 67; development programme (UNDP), 18, 143–4, 165 diplomatic role, 52 early warning, 2 Economic and Social Council, 135, 148, 207, 210 Environmental Programme (UNEP), 207, 210 evolution, 48; experience, 1, 233 fact-finding, 115–16, 118–27 failures, 244 fiftieth anniversary, xviii finances, 47

270 Index United Nations – continued financial crisis, 188 force, 68, 70 forces, 168 founding conference, 43 founding states, 203 four power commission, 85 functions, 1–3, 7 fundamental principles, 244 future directions, 2 General Assembly, 53, 56, 59, 85, 97, 99, 101, 116–18, 124, 135, 148, 173, 193–4, 202–3, 207, 209–11, 215, 245–6 General Assembly resolutions, 117–18, 120, 124–5 goals, 35, 234, 236, 241, 247 governance body, xviii green helmets, 213 headquarters, 67, 153, 180, 207 helicopters, 130 Human Rights Commission (UNHCR), 165, 183 initializing moment, 28 inspection process, 130 inspectors, 132–3 institutional capacities, 118, 234 intervention, 3, 77–8, 108, 118–20, 116, 150, 152, 192, 204 leadership, 173, 237 legacy, 157 legal authority, 118 legitimacy, xx, 182 Lessons Learned Unit, 36, 244 low popularity in the US, 182 mandate, 155; marginalized, 16, 181 member states, 2, 40, 117, 123, 125, 140, 178–9, 248 military, 3, 69, 74 mission, 3, 20, 108 multilateral structure, 1–2 officials, 108, 165 operations, 164–5, 172 peace operations, 3, 5, 56, 107–10 peace plan, 152 performance, 174 personal charisma, 248 personal status, 248 personnel, 156 political institutions, 193–6, 199, 247

political organs, 192, 199, 202, 207 practitioners, 36, 42 preventive deployment (UNPREDEP), 3 primary instruments, 2 processes, 1–2, 7 raison d’être, 18 realist and utopian underpinnings, 2 reform, 236–7 refugees and the Near East, 56 relevance, xx, 1, 248 renaissance, 166 repatriation component, 108 role, xviii, 1, 45 role in Iraq, 4 secretariat, 29, 34, 100, 117, 123, 135 Secretary-General, 53–56, 67–8, 70, 74, 88, 99, 106, 115–18, 121, 124, 142, 144, 163, 174, 207, 248 Secretary-General’s good offices, 4, 55, 70, 208, 248 Special Commission (UNSCOM), 4, 129–5, 137 Special Representative, 143, 145, 165 specialized agencies, 56, 59, 245 structure, 35–6, 55, 237, 241 supervision, 131 system, xviii, xix, 1, 6, 164–5, 172, 237 tasks, 65, 246 traditional views, xix transformation, 2 transformed, 7 transitional operations, 5, 163–77, 244 troops, 154, 156; deployment of , 3 trust fund, 142 trusteeship, 47, 85 UNCED, 210–11 university, xviii verification role, 124 waning credibility, 182 withdrawal of support from, 183 withdrawal, 77 United Nations Association (UNA), 57 United Nations Charter, 1–2, 13, 35, 42, 44, 65, 121, 182, 184, 202, 207, 238, 248 Article 1(1), 52 Article 2(4), 42

Index United Nations Charter – continued Article 2(7), 87, 204, 242 Article 10, 210 Article 11, 55, 207, 210 Article 12 (1–2), 210 Article 24 (1), 207 Article 28 (2), 209 Article 33, 248 Article 34, 55 Article 35 (1), 209 Article 39, 207–8 Article 40, 54–5 Article 41, 55, 208 Article 42, 208 Article 51, 208 Article 52 (1), 208 Article 55/56, 195 Article 65, 57 Article 97, 248 Article 99, 54–5, 117–19, 125, 207 Authority, 47 Chapter VI, 3, 89 Chapter VII, 2, 42, 44–5, 65, 141, 204–7, 215 Chapter, VIII, 90 framework, 43 modifications, 241 principles, 87, 245 United Nations peacekeeping, 5, 36, 68–9, 74, 77, 140–9, 163, 181 MICIVIH, 144 MIPONUH, 143–7 multidimensional nature, 140 ONUSAL, 105–7 UNAMIC, 156 UNAMIR, 244 UNITAF, 87 UNMIH, 141–2 UNOSOM, 87 UNPREDEP, 65, 70, 72–5 UNPROFOR, 68 UNSMIH, 143 UNTAC, 5, 100–5, 150–62, 246 UNTAG, 163–77 UNTMIH, 143 United Nations Security Council, 2, 42–3, 46, 55, 58, 67, 71, 73–5, 87, 215, 245–6, 248 permanent members, 45, 152–6, 173, 246

271

Resolution 435, 165, 170 Resolution, 540, 117, 120, 124–5, 205 Resolution 687, 129–31, 136, 247 Resolution 795, 65, 68 Resolution 842, 68 Resolution 865, 77 Resolution 908, 70 Resolution 940, 141 Resolution 1110, 74 Resolution 1123, 143 Resolution 1141, 144 Resolution 1142, 74 Resolution 1203, 180 Resolution 1244, 180 Summit, 206 veto, 208, 246; elimination, 60 United Somalia Congress, 86 United States, 42, 45–6, 56, 60, 68, 73, 85–7, 100–1, 132–3, 141, 165, 222, 225, 227, 238 aid, 156 Congress, 220 Department of Defense, 134, 206 Department of Energy, 134 Departments of State and Commerce, 134 deployment, 68 diplomatic recognition of, 68 diplomats, 156 failure to pay UN dues, 183, 188 foreign policy, 182–3 global leadership, 189 government, 187 influence, 137 intelligence, 133 marines, 141 peace role, 137, 140 Pentagon, 134 photo-reconnaissance satellite, 133 registry, 135 role, 137, 140 Senate Foreign Relations Committee, 182 trade legislation, 222 troops, 68–9, 73, 75, 88 Universal Declaration of Human Rights, 193, 238 Universal ideas, 237 Universal imperative, 239 Universal norms, 12

272 Index Universal organization, 42 Universalist assumptions, 11–12 Universality, 33, 42 Uranium-enriched plutonium, 131, 133 Uruguay Round, 221, 226 Use of force, 154, 180–2, 184–6, 188, 207 USSR, 85–6, 170, 228, 235 Utopian idealism, 234 Value clarification, 24 Values, 96, 236, 243 Vance, Cyrus, 67 Veterinary services, 84 Victims of force, 186 Victors, 44–5 Violence, 77, 86, 103 international, 42 spillover of, 70 underlying causes, 5 Vlachs, 66 Voter registration, 165 Wadadas, 82 Waltz, Kenneth, 150 Walzer, Michael, 186 War, 19, 33, 81, 130, 133, 152, 160, 163, 205, 237 absence of, 206 Bosnian, 181 Cambodian, 150 cost of, 186 in Kosovo, 185 supplies, 107 War crimes, 100 tribunals, 192 Warfare, 204 Warheads, 130–1 Warner, Senator John, 188 Warring factions, 100 Washington, 157 treaty, 182 Waste products, 205 Water rights, 81 Watts, Alan, 48 Weapons, 116, 120, 126–7, 146 biological, 120, 129, 131, 206 chemical, 4, 56, 115, 116, 119–20, 129, 135, 206 conventional, 129

inspection, 135 of mass destruction, 129, 204 nuclear, 129 sales, 135 Weiss, Thomas, 168 Welfare, 23, 33, 96, 240 Western Hemisphere, 140 Westphalia, 233 Treaty of, 15 Westphalian order, 243 WEU, 146 Williams, Abiodun, xxiv, 3, 65–76 Williams, Michael, 13 Wilson, Woodrow, 53, 141 Wilsonian elements, 46 Wilsonian idealism, 234 Windhoek, 169 Winham, Gilbert, 222 Workplace identity, 22 World Bank, 20, 158, 187, 211 World community, 42, 239 World government, 96 World interests, 236, 239 World order, 15–17, 22, 41 ideologies, 34 people-centred, 18 World politics, 16, 46 World society, 95 World Trade Organization (WTO), 6, 219–21 World views, 22 Worner, Manfred, 181 Wranker, Bo, 72 Yale study on UN reform, xviii Yemen, 82 Yugoslav Federation, 66 military authority, 69 National Army (JNA), 66 Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia, 3, 65–75, 245 Yugoslavia, 44, 67, 70, 98–9, 118, 137, 178, 185, 191–2 government of, 179–80 former Republic of, 181, 228, 245 punishment of, 185 sovereignty of, 189 Zacher, Mark, 59, 64n Zartman, William, 78