Conflict Resolution and Ontological Security: Peace Anxieties 9780415749121, 9781315796314

Table of contents :
Cover
Title
Copyright
Contents
List of contributors
Acknowledgements
Abbreviations
Introduction
1 Ontological (in)security and peace anxieties: a framework for conflict resolution
Part I Ontological (in)security in protracted conflicts
2 Ontological security and the Israeli–Palestinian peace process: between unstable conflict and conflict in resolution
3 The Kurdish Issue and levels of ontological security
4 Ethnic nationalism and the production of ontological security in Cyprus
Part II Ontological (in)security in the process of conflict resolution
5 Ontological (in)security and violent peace in Northern Ireland
6 Ontological (in)security of ‘included’ citizens: the case of early Republican Turkey (1923–1946)
Part III Peace and ontological security
7 Ontological (in)security after peace: the case of the Åland Islands
8 The ontological significance of Karelia: Finland’s reconciliation with losing the promised land
9 Decolonizing security and peace: mono-epistemology versus peace formation
Conclusion
Index

Citation preview

Conflict Resolution and Ontological Security

This volume highlights the ways in which the prospect of peace can generate anxieties and consequently set in motion social and political processes that reproduce and reactivate conflicts. In analysing this issue, the volume builds on the notion of ontological security and its recent applications to international relations theory. Although conflicts threaten the physical security of the parties involved, they also help settle existential questions about basic parameters of life, being, and identity, and thus over time become sources of ontological security. The prospect of peace, through the resolution or transformation of conflict, threatens to unsettle the stability and consistency of self-narratives, and their associated routines and habits at the individual, group, and state levels. The contributors argue two key points: 1) that ontological insecurity may set in motion political and social processes that reproduce and reactivate conflicts; 2) that coping with peace anxieties necessitates the formulation of alternative self-narratives at the individual, societal, and state levels that re-situate the Self in relation to Other and to the world at large. Consequently, the book analyses the ways in which, and the conditions under which, conflict resolution induces ontological insecurity, and the different ways in which ontological insecurity has prevented the successful culmination of peace processes in different conflict contexts, including Cyprus, Israel–Palestine, and Northern Ireland. This book will be of much interest to students of critical security studies, conflict resolution, peace and conflict studies, social theory, and IR in general. Bahar Rumelili is Associate Professor and Jean Monnet Chair in the Department of International Relations, Koç University, Turkey, and author of Constructing Regional Community and Order in Europe and Southeast Asia (2007).

PRIO New Security Studies Series Editor: J. Peter Burgess, PRIO, Oslo The aim of this book series is to gather state-of-the-art theoretical reflection and empirical research into a core set of volumes that respond vigorously and dynamically to the new challenges to security scholarship. The Geopolitics of American Insecurity Terror, power and foreign policy Edited by François Debrix and Mark J. Lacy

Commercialising Security Political consequences for European military operations Edited by Anna Leander

Security, Risk and the Biometric State Governing borders and bodies Benjamin J. Muller

Transnational Companies and Security Governance Hybrid practices in a postcolonial world Jana Hönke

Security and Global Governmentality Globalization, governance and the state Edited by Miguel de Larrinaga and Marc G. Doucet Critical Perspectives on Human Security Rethinking emancipation and power in international relations Edited by David Chandler and Nik Hynek Securitization Theory How security problems emerge and dissolve Edited by Thierry Balzacq Feminist Security Studies A narrative approach Annick T. R. Wibben The Ethical Subject of Security Geopolitical reason and the threat against Europe J. Peter Burgess Politics of Catastrophe Genealogies of the unknown Claudia Aradau and Rens van Munster Security, the Environment and Emancipation Contestation over environmental change Matt McDonald Securitization, Accountability and Risk Management Transforming the public security domain Edited by Karin Svedberg Helgesson and Ulrika Mörth

Citizenship and Security The constitution of political being Edited by Xavier Guillaume and Jef Huysmans Security, Emancipation and the Politics of Health A new theoretical perspective João Nunes Security, Technology and Global Politics Thinking with Virilio Mark Lacy Critical Security and Chinese Politics The Anti-Falungong Campaign Juha A. Vuori Governing Borders and Security The politics of connectivity and dispersal Edited by Catarina Kinnvall and Ted Svensson Contesting Security Strategies and logics Edited by Thierry Balzacq Conflict Resolution and Ontological Security Peace anxieties Edited by Bahar Rumelili

Conflict Resolution and Ontological Security Peace anxieties

Edited by Bahar Rumelili

First published 2015 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2015 selection and editorial material, Bahar Rumelili; individual chapters, the contributors The right of the editor to be identified as the author of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested. ISBN: 978-0-415-74912-1 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-79631-4 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by HWA Text and Data Management, London

Whoever has learnt to be anxious in the right way has learnt the ultimate. (Kierkegaard 1980, p.153)

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Contents

List of contributors Acknowledgements Abbreviations Introduction

ix xi xiii 1

B ahar R umelili

1 Ontological (in)security and peace anxieties: a framework for conflict resolution

10

B ahar R umelili

Part I

Ontological (in)security in protracted conflicts

31

2 Ontological security and the Israeli–Palestinian peace process: between unstable conflict and conflict in resolution

33

A mir L upo vici

3 The Kurdish Issue and levels of ontological security

52

Ay ş e B etü l Ç elik

4 Ethnic nationalism and the production of ontological security in Cyprus

71

N eophytos G . L oi z ides

Part II

Ontological (in)security in the process of conflict resolution

97

5 Ontological (in)security and violent peace in Northern Ireland

99

A udra M itchell

viii  Contents

6 Ontological (in)security of ‘included’ citizens: the case of early Republican Turkey (1923–1946)

117

P ınar B ilgin and Ba şak İ nce

Part III

Peace and ontological security

135

7 Ontological (in)security after peace: the case of the Åland Islands

137

P ertti J oenniemi

8 The ontological significance of Karelia: Finland’s reconciliation with losing the promised land

154

C hristopher S . B rowning and P ertti J oenniemi

9 Decolonizing security and peace: mono-epistemology versus peace formation

172

O li v er P. R ichmond

Conclusion

193

B ahar R umelili

Index

202

Contributors

Ayşe Betül Çelik is Associate Professor on the Conflict Analysis and Resolution MA Program at Sabancı University in İstanbul, Turkey. Her work focuses on ethnicity, forced migration, reconciliation, civil society, and gender in peacebuilding. Her co-authored book Confronting Forced Migration: PostDisplacement Restitution of Citizenship Rights in Turkey analyses the socioeconomic, legal and psychological problems the internally displaced Kurds in Turkey encountered during and after their displacement. Pınar Bilgin is Associate Professor of International Relations at Bilkent University, Turkey. She specializes in critical approaches to security and international relations. She is the author of Regional Security in the Middle East: A Critical Security Studies Perspective (Routledge, 2004) and Security in the International, the International in Security (Routledge, forthcoming). Christopher S. Browning is Reader of Politics and International Studies at the University of Warwick, UK. His current research interests lie in critical approaches to security, identity politics – with a particular emphasis on the strategic deployment of identity in nation branding practices – and civilizational analysis. His most recent publications on these themes include: International Security: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford University Press, 2013), ‘The Future of Critical Security Studies: Ethics and the Politics of Security’,  European Journal of International Relations (2013 with Matt McDonald), ‘Nation Branding, National Self-Esteem and the Constitution of Subjectivity in Late Modernity’, Foreign Policy Analysis (forthcoming), and The Struggle for the West: A Divided and Contested Legacy (2010 co-edited with Marko Lehti). Başak İnce is Assistant Professor in the Department of Political Science and Public Administration at Bilkent University, Turkey. Her most recent book is entitled Citizenship and Identity in Turkey: From Atatürk’s Republic to the Present Day (I.B. Tauris, 2012). Pertti Joenniemi is a researcher at the Karelian Institute, University of Eastern Finland, and visiting researcher at Tampere Peace Research Institute (TAPRI), University of Tampere, Finland. He has previously been working as Senior Research Fellow at the Danish Institute for International Studies (DIIS) and the

x  List of contributors Copenhagen Peace Research Institute (COPRI). Most recently he has explored various aspects of ontological security and the applicability of ontological security theory (OST) in the field of international relations. Neophytos G. Loizides is a reader in international conflict analysis at the University of Kent, UK. His research focuses on power-sharing, the politics of majority nationalism and conflict regulation in deeply divided societies. Dr Loizides is the Associate Editor of Nationalism and Ethnic Politics and a recipient of a British Academy Mid-Career Fellowship for 2014–2015. Amir Lupovici is Senior Lecturer in International Relations in the Department of Political Science at Tel Aviv University, Israel. Previously, he was a postdoctoral fellow at the Munk Centre for International Studies at the University of Toronto, Canada and at the Davis Institute for International Relations at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Israel. His research interests are international relations theory, security studies and constructivism, and he mainly focuses on the practices of deterrence. Audra Mitchell is Senior Lecturer in International Relations at the University of York, UK. Her work combines political philosophy and international relations, focusing on the problem of large-scale harm. She is the author of International Intervention in a Secular Age: Re-enchanting Humanity? (Routledge, 2014), Lost in Transformation: Violent Peace and Peaceful Conflict in Northern Ireland (Palgrave, 2011), co-editor (with Oliver Richmond) of Hybrid Forms of Peace: from the Everyday to Post-liberalism (Palgrave, 2011), and of articles in numerous journals. Oliver P. Richmond is a research professor in IR, peace and conflict studies at the University of Manchester, UK. He is also International Professor, College of International Studies, Kyung Hee University, Korea, and Visiting Professor at the Centre for Peace Studies, University of Tromso, Norway. His publications include Failed Statebuilding (Yale University Press, 2014), A Very Short Introduction to Peace (Oxford University Press, 2014), A Post Liberal Peace (Routledge, 2011), Liberal Peace Transitions, (with Jason Franks, Edinburgh University Press, 2009), Peace in IR (Routledge, 2008), and The Transformation of Peace (Palgrave, 2005/7). He is editor of the Palgrave book series, ‘Rethinking Peace and Conflict Studies’, and co-editor of the Journal, Peacebuilding. Bahar Rumelili is Associate Professor and Jean Monnet Chair at the Department of International Relations, Koç University, Turkey. Her research focuses on international relations theory, regionalism, identity, and conflict resolution. She is the author of Constructing Regional Community and Order in Europe and Southeast Asia (Palgrave, 2007). She is the 2009 recipient of Turkish Academy of Sciences’ Distinguished Young Scientist Award.

Acknowledgements

Thanks are due to many individuals who took part in the intellectual journey that ultimately produced this book. The idea of applying an ontological security perspective to the study of conflict resolution first struck me during my 2011– 2012 sabbatical leave at the University of British Columbia. I presented a preliminary research paper on this topic first at UBC, and later at my alma mater the University of Minnesota during 2012. I am grateful to all my colleagues and former professors who provided invaluable feedback and encouragement at this initial stage, notably to Richard Price, Arjun Chowdhury, Raymond Duvall, Ron Krebs, and Martin Sampson. Then, I was fortunate to participate in a panel on ontological security, organized by Catarina Kinnvall at the 2012 Annual Convention of the International Studies Association in San Diego. Having read my paper, Pertti Joenniemi encouraged me to develop an edited book project out of it and introduced me to Amir Lupovici and to his very relevant work on the IsraelPalestinian conflict. I would like extend my special thanks to Pertti Joenniemi; without his inspiration and encouragement, I might not have started this project at all.The next step was the organization of a workshop at Koç University in January 2013, which would bring together the contributors to the volume in a two-day intensive meeting. When I could not receive the funding I had counted upon, my dear colleague and long-time friend Betül Çelik graciously stepped in and offered to co-organize the workshop with co-funding from Sabancı University. I am very grateful to Betül for offering her support at this very crucial moment, and would like to also thank the Centre for Globalization and Democratic Governance at Koç University for their financial contribution. I can, without any reservation, say that the workshop was a turning point in my recent career. It renewed my sense of intellectual purpose. I am grateful to all the contributors of this volume plus Esra Cuhadar-Gürkaynak and Ole Wæver, who, due to time constraints, could not submit their chapters, for committing their time and energy to this project. Many of the critical arguments that I advance in the introduction and Chapter 1 originated during the workshop; in particular, I am thankful to Ole Wæver for stressing the distinction between fear and anxiety and to Betül Çelik for insisting that some level of ontological insecurity is necessary for conflict resolution. I also consider myself very fortunate to have acquired the trust of such distinguished scholars, who, despite representing different approaches to conflict resolution/peace studies,

xii Acknowledgements gladly accepted my invitation to engage with the notion of ontological security. Despite all the horror stories I had previously heard, my job as an editor was very easy. Although book chapters are not highly rated these days in academic evaluations, all of the contributors devoted time and energy to the project. As will be quickly evident to the reader, each chapter contains very critical insights that enrich and extend the framework I introduce in Chapter 1. This experience has clearly shown me the added value of the intellectual exchanges and crossfertilisation that underpin the production of edited volumes. I would like to also thank Peter Burgess and Andrew Humphrys for welcoming the volume to the PRIO New Security Studies Series at Routledge. The anonymous referees, who reviewed the book for Routledge, provided very detailed and helpful suggestions that helped us tremendously while revising the manuscript. Hannah Ferguson and Annabelle Harris were always readily available to provide much needed help at various stages of the editorial process. Two research assistants at Koç University, Didem Çakmaklı and Sibel Karadağ, provided critical support in organizing the workshop and preparing the manuscript for final submission. Last but not least, I would like to thank my husband and daughter for believing in me and sharing my enthusiasm as well as frustration at various stages of this process.

Abbreviations

AKEL AKP

Progressive Party of Working People of Cyprus Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi – Justice and Development Party of Turkey BDP Barış ve Demokrasi Partisi – Peace and Democracy Party of Turkey BiH Bosnia and Herzegovina CHP Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi – Republican People’s Party of Turkey CSCE Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe CTP Republican Turkish Party of Cyprus DIKO Democratic Party of Cyprus DISY Democratic National Party of Cyprus DP Democratic Party of Turkey DTK Democratic Society Congress in Turkey DTP Demokratik Toplum Partisi – Democratic Society Party of Turkey ECtHR European Court of Human Rights EDEK Movement for Social Democracy in Cyprus EOKA National Organisation of Cypriot Fighters EU European Union GF/BA Good Friday/Belfast Agreement GNA Grand National Assembly of the Republic of Turkey ICG International Crisis Group IDP Internally Displaced Person IFI International Financial Institutions INGO International Non-governmental Organisations INLA Irish National Liberation Army KCK Union of Communities in Kurdistan LN League of Nations LVF Loyalist Volunteer Force MHP Milliyetçi Hareket Partisi – Nationalist Action Party of Turkey Olağanüstü Hal – State of Emergency OHAL OHR Office of the High Representative PASOK Panhellenic Socialist Movement of Cyprus PIRA (IRA) Provisional Irish Republican Army

xiv  List of abbreviations PKK PSNI TMT TRNC UBP UDA UNDP UNOPS UPRG WPC

Partiya Karkerên Kurdistan – Kurdistan Workers’ Party Police Service of Northern Ireland Turkish Resistance Organisation Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus National Unity Party Turkey Ulster Defence Association United Nations Development Programme United Nations Office for Project Services Ulster Political Research Group Wise People Committee

Introduction Bahar Rumelili

I grew up with stories. I had these images about this place and it was a different place than I saw when I crossed. I was expecting to find beautiful houses, beautiful trees, a community, like living in a neighbourhood, feeling at home. But what I saw was not the image I was expecting … It was like being in a forest and not being able to breathe. It was the worst feeling I ever had in my life. (Dikomitis 2005, p.9) The quintessential Palestinian experience … takes place at the border, an airport, a checkpoint … What happens to Palestinians at these crossing points bring home to them how much they share in common as a people. (Khalidi 1997, p.1) The first quote depicts the way a Greek-Cypriot woman conveyed her profound disquiet after being allowed to cross the Green Line in Cyprus to see the Northern part of the island, which has been under Turkish occupation since 1974, for the very first time in 2005. Many ethnographic analyses of conflict resolution point to similar unsettling effects whereas all conflict resolution endeavours are premised on the contrary assumption that peace is a universal/idealistic end-point, which would ultimately settle and bring to end fundamental grievances, fears, and anxieties.1 This book disrupts this highly taken-for-granted assumption and highlights the ways in which the prospect of peace, to be brought about by the resolution or transformation of conflicts, generates anxieties at the individual, group, societal, and state levels, and consequently sets in motion social and political processes that reproduce and reactivate the conflicts. In analysing how the prospect of peace may generate anxieties and the consequences thereof, the book builds on the notion of ontological security, as developed by Giddens (1991) and its recent applications to international relations theory (Huysmans 1998; Kinnvall 2004; Steele 2005, 2008; Mitzen 2006a, 2006b; Roe 2008; Krolikowski 2008; Berenskoetter and Giegerich 2010; Zarakol 2010; Lupovici 2012; Croft 2012; Kay 2012). Although conflicts threaten the physical security of the parties involved, they help settle certain existential questions about basic parameters of life, about being, self in relation to external world and others, and identity. Thus, over time, conflicts

2  Bahar Rumelili become sources of ontological security (Mitzen 2006a). They sustain the political and social production of definite objects of fear, systems of meaning that clearly differentiate friends from enemies, and unequivocal moral standards premised on the necessity for survival. At the individual, group, and state levels, they become embedded in habits and routinised practices, and enable actors to maintain stable and consistent self-narratives that inform their actions.At the individual level, the fears and deprivations induced by conflict and the emotional and behavioural responses developed to deal with them, no matter how costly and negative, generate a sense of stability and certainty, and enable actors to simultaneously bracket out existential questions and to know what they are doing and why they are doing it. Thus, as indicated in the second quote above, being humiliated once again by security guards at an Israeli checkpoint becomes a source of ontological security for Palestinians. At the societal level, these negative experiences maintain stable and clear-cut definitions of self and other, and thereby fix the otherwise fluid and contested narratives of collective identity. At the state level, conflicts solidify friend/enemy distinctions and become embedded in routinised securitising acts and practices, which empower security actors and legitimise exceptional measures. The prospect of peace, through the resolution or transformation of conflict, promises to end these fears, deprivations, and states of exception, yet threatens to unsettle the stability and consistency of self-narratives, and their associated routines and habits at the individual, societal, and state levels. Thus, the first objective of this book is to analyse in a variety of conflict cases, how conflict resolution induces ontological insecurity, a state of general anxiety which stems from the disruption of habits and the inability to sustain a coherent narrative about doing, acting, and being (Kinnvall 2004). Anxiety is a generalised state, and is to be distinguished from fear, which is linked to a specific threat and therefore has a definite object. In contrast, anxiety is unconsciously organised and experienced internally, rather than projected externally. In different conflict contexts, ontological insecurity induced by the prospect of resolution or transformation may manifest itself in different ways and to different degrees. While at the individual level, ontological insecurity manifests itself in certain emotional responses and behavioural coping mechanisms, at the collective and state levels, it triggers inconsistency, ambiguity, and dissonance in narratives, and in practice avoidance and incapacity to act (Lupovici 2012). The second contention of the book is that ontological insecurity at the individual, group, and state levels may set in motion political and social processes that reproduce and reactivate conflicts. Ontological insecurity generates pressures for the reinstatement of the conflict narratives and practices, which had, after all, provided consistent, firm, and non-negotiable answers to existential questions about being and acting, through friend/enemy distinctions and securitisation. Ontological insecurity undermines trust and accentuates the perception of general threat from the outside world. It, thus, creates a setting conducive to the manipulation of this distrust by political actors, who act to re-channel this anxiety into specific and habituated fears. Ontological insecurity may hamper the negotiation process by leading parties to elevate minor outstanding aspects of the deal to existential issues, generating new issues of discord beyond the ones addressed by the

Introduction   3 conflict resolution process. It may also empower spoilers of the peace processes (Stedman 1997). The contributions to this book analyse the different ways in which ontological insecurity has thus prevented the successful culmination of peace processes in different conflict contexts. The third contention of the book is that coping with the anxieties induced by conflict resolution and transformation necessitates the formulation of alternative self-narratives at the individual, societal, and state levels that re-situate the Self in relation to Other and to the world at large, and that become embedded in new habits and routines. In this respect, the book is in close company with social-psychological approaches to conflict resolution that stress the necessity to reconstruct societal beliefs. However, in the existing literature, insufficient attention has been paid to the processes whereby these alternative beliefs are formulated and become ingrained in self-narratives and practice. It is the quest for ontological security that drives the political and social processes through which the parties construct their identities in relation to one another. Without paying due attention to the quest for ontological security, various peace-building interventions have been designed under the assumption that members of conflict societies are in essence liberal subjects (Richmond 2008, 2011), who are willing to strip themselves of their particularistic identity narratives and identify with the Other in the interest of peace (Browning & Joenniemi 2012). In a number of conflict resolution and peace-building contexts, the contributions to this book analyse the alternative self-narratives that have become the basis of an altered state of ontological security and study their characteristics. The book makes a number of critical contributions to the fields of international relations theory and conflict resolution. This book is the first to explore the question of how the pursuit of ontological security impacts conflict resolution. In addition to the literature on ontological security, the book also contributes to the growing literatures on the role of habits (Hopf 2010), practices (Neumann 2002; Pouliot 2008; Adler & Pouliot 2011) and emotions (Crawford 2000; Ross 2006; Hutchison & Bleiker 2008; Bially-Mattern 2011) in international life. The burgeoning literature on ontological security has explained how and why the maintenance of habits and routines becomes important to states just as it is important to individuals (Mitzen 2006a, 2006b; Steele 2008). Particularly, the literature on ontological security has pointed out how the pursuit of stability, certainty, and consistency of self-narratives leads conflict parties to stick to the habits and routines that reproduce conflict. This book, similarly, underlines the habitual nature and practicality of conflicts and their ontological securityproducing implications, but shifts the focus away from explaining the continuity of conflicts and other patterns in international politics towards the theorisation of the possibilities for change. We argue that the concept of anxiety is critical to our understanding of how the pursuit of ontological security makes change difficult but nevertheless possible. Despite the growing attention to paid to various emotional factors in international relations, anxiety has not received due attention. This book provides a preliminary theorisation of anxiety and how it interacts with other political and social dynamics in international affairs.

4  Bahar Rumelili The book is also the first to highlight the contribution that the concept of ontological security makes to the theory and practice of conflict resolution. Extant approaches to conflict resolution attempt to construct rational solutions to conflicts that satisfy the pre-given interests and needs of conflict parties through a fair allocation (Wallensteen 2007; for a similar critique, see Farneti 2009) and strive to address the underlying psycho-social dynamics of conflicts through interactive and reflexive dialogue based methods (Rothman & Olson 2001). While sharing close affinities with the social-psychological approaches to conflict resolution, ontological security adds to the existing literature a number of critical insights. At a basic level, ontological security shifts the focus away from the issues at stake towards the underlying processes and the practicality of conflicts, to the narratives, habits and the routines that shape the practical consciousness of conflict parties and maintain the conflict. At a more fundamental level, ontological security cannot be conceptualised as an additional, pre-given need, which can be addressed and provided for through the right form of interventions (cf. Burton 1990). Rather, ontological insecurity evades all rational solutions, and is the most intense when all needs and interests are thought to have been addressed. By assuming the issues at stake to be pre-given and focusing on them, extant approaches to conflict resolution neglect first that the seemingly existential quality of the issues themselves are the products of political processes of securitisation, and second that the seemingly insurmountable differences among conflict parties stem from social processes of identity construction, and finally that these political and social processes are sources of stability, certainty, and ontological security. Consequently, the construction of comprehensive solutions that address all relevant aspects of conflict often proves impossible because as existing issues are addressed, the ensuing anxieties reactivate these political and social processes to produce new issues as existential and new differences as insurmountable. The contributors to the book consist of leading scholars in the fields of ontological security studies, securitisation theory, critical peace studies, and institutional and social-psychological approaches to conflict resolution. Our conversations have enabled us to situate ontological security in relation to other concepts of security, be attentive to the processes that underlie the production of ontological security, and be aware of the normative implications while not losing sight of the practical challenges of conflict resolution. Moreover, the book distinguishes itself with the empirical span of its case studies across time and space. It focuses on a broad range of international and domestic conflicts in various stages of negotiation, resolution, and reconciliation. It is thereby able to analyse how the prospect of peace triggers ontological insecurity, which in turn hampers negotiation and resolution efforts in protracted international conflicts such as Cyprus and Israel/Palestine and domestic ones such as Turkey’s Kurdish conflict, while also indicating the ways in which ontological insecurity remains a factor even following seemingly successful peace processes, such as Northern Ireland, and generates new forms of conflict and violence. The book also analyses how ontological security was reinstated following the resolution of two Nordic conflicts – the Åland Islands between Finland and Sweden and

Introduction   5 the Karelian conflict between Finland and Russia – through the construction of alternative self-narratives and the enactment of new habits and practices, while enabling a comparison with local ‘peace formation’ practices to reinstate ontological security following liberal peace-building interventions in contexts, such as Somalia and Sierra Leone. Furthermore, by including both conflict cases that were resolved in 1920s and 1930s, such as the Åland Islands and the GreekTurkish population exchange and those of the contemporary period, the book is able to trace the changing conditions of ontological security over time. Finally, different contributions complement one another as a result of the different degrees of emphasis they place on ontological (in)security at the individual, societal, and state levels.

Outline of the volume The following chapter, entitled Ontological (In)security and Peace Anxieties: A Framework for Conflict Resolution, lays out the overarching theoretical framework of the book. The chapter will first draw mainly on Anthony Giddens, Søren Kierkegaard and Paul Tillich to introduce the concepts of ontological security/insecurity and establish their relationship to anxiety. Then it will lay out the dynamics and manifestations of ontological (in)security at the individual, societal/state, and ultimately the inter-state/inter-party levels. After discussing the contribution of ontological security to the extant literature on conflict resolution, the chapter will offer a framework to analyse the impact of ontological security in conflict resolution processes. Drawing on this framework, Chapters 2, 3, and 4 will discuss three protracted conflicts, namely the Israel/Palestine, Turkey’s Kurdish conflicts, and Cyprus conflicts. The contributions focus on the different ways in which the prospect of peace induces ontological insecurity and anxieties at the individual, group, or state levels and analyse the implications of these anxieties for the conflict resolution processes. In the chapter, entitled Ontological Security, Conflict Resolution, and the Israeli–Palestinian Peace Process, Amir Lupovici underlines the Israeli ontological insecurity that stems from the multiplicity of Israeli identities and the inability of the peace process to simultaneously address them. However, according to Lupovici, this ontological insecurity does not trigger a return back to the routines of enmity because the continuation of the conflict is also a source of ontological insecurity. He argues that the Israeli policy based on encouraging the separation between Fatah and Hamas provides a way to deal with this discord and to break away from this uncomfortable in-between situation. In particular, it allows Israel to create ambiguities regarding the Palestinians and regarding the peace process. Preservation of the conflict with Hamas enables Israel to placate some anxieties, while engagement in conflict resolution with Fatah appeases others. While this dual approach helps Israel to contain the contradictions in Israeli identity and to lower Israeli anxieties, it thwarts meaningful and comprehensive resolution attempts. In the chapter entitled Kurdish Issue and Levels of Ontological Security, Ayşe Betül Çelik focuses on the Turkish governments’ recent peace attempts to bring

6  Bahar Rumelili about a resolution of the Kurdish conflict. She argues that while establishing basic trust between the parties is a requirement for successful peace processes, asymmetric levels of ontological (in)security felt by conflicting groups can prevent them from engaging in a dialogue with each other. Therefore, according to Çelik, the basic trust and sense of security of the dominant group and the state need to be challenged – in other words, the dominant groups need to be ontologically insecured – in order to push these dominant actors to recognise the minority group and start empathising with its grievances. Çelik’s chapter analyses the extent to which Turkish governments’ recent peace attempts were able to satisfy this criterion. She finds neither the 2009 nor the 2013 peace attempt successful enough in challenging the dominant Turkish narrative, and hence in pushing the Turks to empathise with the Kurds. She especially notes how the hostility between the two groups intensified following the failure of the 2009 peace attempt, as a result of the Turkish state’s return to ever more repressive and criminalising practices to suppress the ensuing anxieties. In the chapter, entitled Ethnic Nationalism and the Production of Ontological Security in Cyprus, Neophytos G. Loizides traces the historical evolution of collective identity narratives in the Turkish and Greek Cypriot communities on the island through the various phases of conflict, and furthermore discusses how external developments and communal politics have affected the salience of alternative narratives. Like Lupovici, Loizides stresses the multiplicity of self-narratives, and identifies the ontological security challenges that stem from ‘dealing with multiple identities which themselves transform during contested peace processes.’ Loizides’ chapter also examines whether and how protracted mediations in Cyprus have attempted to address this multiplicity of identities, including the challenge of continuously reproduced differentiations in a changing regional and international environment. The second section of the book focuses on two conflicts that have undergone a process of resolution, namely Northern Ireland and the conflicts involving non-Muslim minorities during the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire following World War I. The contributions highlight the different implications of heightened anxieties following the seemingly successful resolution of violent conflicts. In both cases, the disruptions of systems of meaning and morality trigger the establishment of new objects of fear at the individual and/or collective levels. In the chapter, entitled Ontological (In)security and Violent Peace in Northern Ireland, Audra Mitchell discusses how the peace process in Northern Ireland has generated ontological insecurities at the individual and group levels by imposing homogeneity on combating groups, disrupting the practices through which communities have maintained their particularities, and dictating a process of radical change. These insecurities, Mitchell contends, have become a major source of ongoing violence, as evident in riots and the recent ‘flag’ protests that have disrupted central Belfast. She argues, however, that the ongoing violence in Northern Ireland should not be treated as a straightforward case of ontological insecurity stemming from the relationship between Republicans and Loyalists. Too much focus on the primary Self/Other relationship obscures the role of

Introduction   7 multiple Selves and Others, such as those Republican and Loyalist groups that will not and cannot be integrated into the peace process. In the chapter, entitled Insecuring Citizens: Included/Excluded Citizens in Early Republican Turkey, Pınar Bilgin and Başak İnce analyse how the citizenship policies, implemented by Turkey within the framework of the 1923 Lausanne Peace Treaty, have rendered various groups of Turkish citizens and non-citizens insecure. Different from other accounts that have focused exclusively on the insecurities of those who were forced to migrate or assimilate, Bilgin and İnce highlight the ontological insecurities of the ‘model citizen Turks’, who chose to become fully integrated within the model of unified citizenry. According to the authors, the rise of identity conflicts in Turkey in the 1980s, particularly the Kurdish conflict, is integrally linked with the experiences of these ‘model citizens’, who contain their own ontological insecurities by securitising all claims to ‘difference’. The three contributions to the third section of the book analyse how individuals, communities and states construct alternative systems of meaning and morality to reinstate ontological security in different post-conflict and peace-building contexts. The chapter, entitled Ontological (In)security after Peace: The Case of the Åland Islands, by Pertti Joenniemi, focuses on how the 1921 League of Nations decision placed the Ålanders in an ontologically insecure, in-between position, by rejecting their demand to join Sweden, but granting them cultural autonomy within Finland. Joenniemi analyses how the Islands adjusted to their new and unexpected position by adopting a new self-narrative and set of routines that revolve around defending their exceptional posture and keeping their distance with mainland Finland. In other words, maintaining a self-sustaining pattern of identity related strains between Åland and mainland Finland has been critical to the reinstatement of Åland Islands’ ontological security. Joenniemi argues that Finland’s EU membership is once again unsettling Åland’s ontological security, as issues of belonging/non-belonging are losing their significance in the EU context. The chapter entitled Desecuritizing the Ontological Significance of Territory: Karelia, Conflict Resolution and Finland’s Reconciliation with Losing the Promised Land, by Christopher Browning and Pertti Joenniemi focuses on how the Karelian issue in Finnish/Russian-Soviet relations was resolved following the Second World War through Finland giving up on its claims. The chapter charts both the securitisation process in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, which involved the ascription to the region of Karelia deep ontological significance in Finnish identity narratives, and the various desecuritising strategies utilised in the post-war and post-Cold War periods. The authors emphasise that the tensions and anxieties generated by the loss of Karelia in World War II were ameliorated through the formulation of alternative self-narratives that renegotiated  understandings  of Russian/Soviet identity as well as the position of Karelia in Finnish identity narratives. These new narratives have provided new grounds upon which the Finnish sense of ontological security and national self-esteem could be re-instituted, even during a process of giving up claims on a territory widely considered to be a constitutive and fundamental part of the national self.

8  Bahar Rumelili The final chapter in this section by Oliver P. Richmond, entitled Decolonizing Security and Subaltern Ontologies of Peace, draws on examples from a number of peace-building contexts including Somalia, Afghanistan, Colombia, Sierra Leone, Bosnia, and Cyprus. He presents the multitude of ways in which the in-group/outgroup dynamics of peace and security are exacerbated rather than resolved by (neo)liberal peace-building/statebuilding approaches. Richmond underlines the multitude of ways in which local communities counter the disruptions in their self-narratives and everyday routines caused by these (neo)liberal interventions through ‘peace formation’, ‘localized, social, customary, religious, and ritualistic practices of peace-making’. The chapter also examines if and how a nonessentialised and non-instrumentalised ontological security may emerge through these ‘peace-formation’ practices and whether these practices of peace-making enable the reconstruction and reformulation of self-narratives and routines to provide certainty and stability to individuals and communities in the turbulent context of peace-building. Finally, the conclusion to the volume will re-evaluate the conceptual/theoretical framework in light of the arguments and findings of other chapters, discuss the value-added of an ontological security perspective to the study of conflict resolution, and draw lessons for the broader agenda of ontological security studies.

Note 1 Richmond (2005, pp. 4–5) underlines that peace is always referred to in a universal/ idealistic form that disguises the fact that it is actually an essentially contested concept.

Bibliography Adler, E. & Pouliot, V. (eds) 2011, International Practices, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Berenskoetter, F. & Giegerich, B. 2010, ‘From NATO to ESDP: A Social Constructivist Analysis of German Strategic Adjustment after the End of the Cold War’, Security Studies, vol.19, no.3, pp.407–252. Bialy-Mattern, J 2011, ‘Emotional Practices in World Politics’, in The Practice Turn in International Relations, eds E. Adler & V. Pouliot, pp. 63–86. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Browning, C. S. & Joenniemi, P. 2012, ‘From Fratricide to Security Community: Retheorizing Difference in the Constitution of Nordic Peace’, Journal of International Relations and Development, advance online publication 20 July. Burton, J. (ed.) 1990, Conflict: Human Needs Theory, New York: St. Martin’s Press. Crawford, N. C. 2000, ‘The Passion of World Politics: Propositions on Emotions and Emotional Relationships’, International Security, vol.24, no. 4, pp.116–156. Croft, S. 2012, ‘Constructing Ontological Insecurity: The Insecuritisation of Britain’s Muslims’, Contemporary Security Policy, vol.33, no.2, pp.219–235. Dikomitis, L. 2005, ‘Three Readings of a Border: Greek Cypriots Crossing the Green Line in Cyprus’, Anthropology Today, vol.21, no. 5, pp.7–12. Farneti, R. 2009, ‘A Mimetic Perspective on Conflict Resolution’, Polity, vol.41, no. 4, pp.536–558.

Introduction   9 Giddens, A. 1991, Modernity and Self-Identity, New York: Polity Press. Hopf, T. 2010, ‘The Logic of Habit in International Relations’, European Journal of International Relations, vol.16, no.4, pp.539–561. Huysmans, J. 1998, ‘Security! What do you Mean? From Concept to Thick Signifier’, European Journal of International Relations, vol.4, no.2, pp.226–255. Hutchison, E. & Bleiker, R. 2008, ‘Emotional Reconciliation. Reconstituting Identity and Community after Trauma’, European Journal of Social Theory, vol. 11, no.3, pp.385–403. Kay, S. 2012, ‘Ontological Security and Peace-Building in Northern Ireland’, Contemporary Security Policy, vol.33, no. 2, pp.236–263. Kierkegaard, S. 1980, ‘The Concept of Anxiety’ in The Essential Kierkegaard, eds H Hong & E Hong, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Khalidi, R. 1997, Palestinian Identity: The Construction of Modern National Consciousness, New York: Columbia University Press. Kinnvall, C. 2004, ‘Globalization and Religious Nationalism: Self, Identity, and the Search for Ontological Security’, Political Psychology, vol.25, no.5, pp.741–767. Krolikowski, A 2008, ‘State Personhood in Ontological Security Theories of International Relations and Chinese Nationalism: A Skeptical View’, The Chinese Journal of International Politics, vol.2, no.1, pp.109–133. Lupovici, A. 2012, ‘Ontological Dissonance, Clashing Identities, and Israel’s Unilateral Steps towards the Palestinians’, Review of International Studies, vol. 38, no.4, pp.809–833. Mitzen, J 2006a, ‘Ontological Security in World Politics: State Identity and the Security Dilemma’, European Journal of International Relations, vol.12, no.3, pp.341–370. Mitzen, J. 2006b, ‘Anchoring Europe’s Civilizing Identity: Habits, Capabilities, and Ontological Security’, Journal of European Public Policy, vol.13, no.2, pp.270–285. Neumann, I. B. 2002, ‘Returning Practice to the Linguistic Turn: The Case of Diplomacy’ Millennium: Journal of International Studies, vol. 32, no.3, pp.627–652. Pouliot, V. 2008, ‘The Logic of Practicality: A Theory of Practice of Security Communities’, International Organization, vol.62, no.2, pp.257–288. Richmond, O. P. 2005, The Transformation of Peace, Basingstoke: Palgrave. Richmond, O. P. 2008, ‘Reclaiming Peace in International Relations’, Millennium: Journal of International Studies, vol.36, no.3, pp.439–470. Richmond, O. P . 2011, A Post-Liberal Peace, New York: Routledge. Roe, P. 2008, ‘The Value of Positive Security’, Review of International Studies, vol.34, no.4, pp.777–794. Ross, A. G. 2006, ‘Coming in from the Cold: Emotions and Constructivism’, European Journal of International Relations, vol.12, no.2, pp.197–222. Rothman, J. & Olson, M. L. 2001, ‘From Interests to Identities: Towards a New Emphasis in Interactive Conflict Resolution’, Journal of Peace Research, vol.38, no.3, pp.289–305. Stedman, S. J. 1997, ‘Spoiler Problem in Peace Processes’, International Security, vol.22, no.2, pp.5–53. Steele, B. J. 2005, ‘Ontological Security and the Power of Self-Identity: British Neutrality and the American Civil War’, Review of International Studies, vol.31, pp.519–540. Steele, B. J. 2008, Ontological Security in International Relations, New York: Routledge. Tillich, P. 2000, The Courage to Be, New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press. Wallensteen, P. 2007, Understanding Conflict Resolution: War, Peace, and the Global System, London: Sage. Zarakol, A. 2010, ‘Ontological (In)security and State Denial of Historical Crimes: Turkey and Japan’, International Relations, vol.24, no. 1, pp.3–23.

1 Ontological (in)security and peace anxieties A framework for conflict resolution Bahar Rumelili

As noted in the introduction, theoretically the book primarily builds on the notion of ontological security, pioneered in the psycho-analytical literature by R.D. Laing (1990, originally published in 1960) and later adopted and developed in social theory by Anthony Giddens (1991). At the cost of bypassing certain critical nuances in the development of the concept (Zarakol 2010, pp.6–7), I will mainly rely on Giddens’ formulation and develop a conceptual/analytical framework to employ it in the study of conflict resolution. Critical to this endeavour will be the refinement of the theoretical link between ontological (in)security and anxiety, which I will attempt to do by drawing mainly on Søren Kierkegaard and Paul Tillich. To mark the multi-layered nature of the concept, in the first three sections of the chapter, I will lay out the dynamics and manifestations of ontological (in) security at the individual, societal/state, and ultimately the state/inter-state levels. In the fourth section, I will discuss the contribution of ontological security to the extant literature on conflict resolution and present a framework to analyse the impact of ontological security in conflict resolution processes. The purpose of this chapter is not to lay out a definitive framework for the subsequent chapters, but advance a number of insights for the contributors to adopt, refine, and challenge as they see fit.

Ontological (in)security and anxiety: the individual level Ontological security is a concept that has been developed with the individual in mind. Giddens draws on the example of the basic trust developed between the infant and caregiver to stress how the maintenance of habits and routines helps ‘to constitute “a formed framework” for existence by cultivating a sense of being and its separation from non-being’ (1991, pp.38–9). This framework, he argues, enables individuals to answer existential questions about ‘basic parameters of human life’, such as the nature of existence, the distinction between human life and the external world, the existence of other persons, and self-identity (ibid., pp.48–55), and to take for granted existential parameters of activity (ibid., p.37). Giddens emphasizes that ‘all individuals develop a framework of ontological security of some sort, based on routines of various forms’, which enable them to ‘bracket out questions about themselves, others and the object world, which

Ontological (in)security and peace anxieties   11 have to be taken for granted in order to keep on with everyday activity.’(ibid, p.37) In addition to practical consciousness, ontological security rests on reflexive awareness –knowing what one is doing and why one is doing it– and consequently on a stable sense of self-identity. Giddens (ibid, p.53) also stresses that identity is not a collection of traits possessed by the individual, but that ‘it is the Self as reflexively understood by the person in terms of her or his biography’. Therefore, in addition to habits and routines, a feeling of biographical continuity, and its communication to other people as such, are essential components of ontological security. In Giddens’ usage, ontological security has a clear ontic referent, and usurps the ontic/ontological distinction developed by Heidegger (1962). In developing the concept, Giddens has chosen to build on the formulation by R.D. Laing (1990, pp.39), who had noted that ‘despite the philosophical use of “ontology”… [he has] used the term in its present empirical sense because it appears to be the best adverbial or adjectival derivative of being’. Thus, at issue in ontological security is not the security of a particular ontology or ontological fixity. Mitchell, in her contribution to this volume, argues that developing a further distinction between ontic and ontological security may be desirable, as the notion of ontological security lumps together existing identity categories as well as ‘meta-categories of being in which humans believe’. Such a distinction is critical, according to Mitchell, to our understanding of the complexities of the Northern Irish peace process. While Mitchell provides a convincing account, for the purposes of this framework chapter, I consider it more appropriate to maintain the original formulation of the concept. What lurks outside of this formed framework of ontological security, according to Giddens (1991, p.185), is chaos; the prospect of being overwhelmed by anxieties that reach to the very roots of our coherent sense of ‘being in the world’. Yet the conditions of late modernity, and in particular, the orientation of modernity towards control, help contain many forms of anxiety which might otherwise threaten ontological security. However, in fateful moments, when these anxieties can no longer be contained, ontological security comes under immediate strain. Thus, under conditions of late modernity, anxiety is either institutionally contained through various control mechanisms or is experienced to such an extent that it generates an incapacitating state of ontological insecurity. Again, building on Laing (1990), Giddens conceptualizes ontological insecurity as an extreme state, equating it with individuals whose sense of self is fractured or disabled. According to Giddens, the ontologically insecure individual ‘lacks a consistent feeling of biographical continuity, and … becomes obsessively preoccupied with apprehension of possible risks to his or her existence’ (1991, p.53). However, with this clear-cut distinction he makes between ontological security/insecurity, Giddens understates the role of anxiety as a pervasive feature of human existence.1 Giddens is mainly indebted to Kierkegaard (1980, originally published in 1843) in his theorization of anxiety, but by associating anxiety with chaos, Giddens overlooks the ambivalence and positive potential in anxiety, key aspects present in both Kierkegaard and Heidegger’s theorization of the concept.

12  Bahar Rumelili According to Kierkegaard (1980, p.139), anxiety is bound up with freedom and with the human capacity for choosing between alternative possibilities. The realization of one’s possibilities is contingent upon not giving in to the paralysing effects that often attend anxiety. In Heidegger (1962, p.232), anxiety similarly performs a positive function by summoning us to take up the challenge of authentic existence. The inherent ambivalence in anxiety and its simultaneously paralysing and liberating effects is what makes peace at once elusive and ultimately possible. Therefore, while building on Giddens’ notion of ontological security, this chapter revives and develops anxiety as a key concept. It focuses on how conflict resolution unleashes various forms and degrees of anxiety at the individual, societal, and state levels, and studies its implications. I define ontological insecurity not as an absolute, extreme state, but as a relative one, where anxieties that can no longer be contained by existing social and political processes are unleashed in varying ways and to varying degrees. Critical to our understanding of anxiety and its role in conflict resolution processes are the distinction and the relation between anxiety and fear. Whereas fear is a response to a specific threat and therefore has a definite object, anxiety is a generalized state of the emotions of the individual. Fear has a definite object which can be faced, analysed, attacked, and endured (Kierkegaard 1980; Tillich 2000, p.37). In contrast, anxiety is unconsciously organized and experienced internally, rather than projected externally. As Heidegger (1962, p.230–231) underlines, anxiety is characterized by the fact that what threatens is nowhere; anxiety does not know what that in the face of which it is anxious. The outstanding example is the difference between fear of death and anxiety about death. In the former, the fear is directed towards the anticipated event of being killed by illness, accident, or violence, and is met by protective measures against possible causes of death. In contrast, anxiety about dying stems from the absolutely unknown after death, and the prospect of non-being (Tillich 2000, pp.37–38). Anxiety about death leads the individual to establish and focus on objects of fear, to channel his/ her anxieties about death into fears as much as possible because only fear can be met by courage and protective measures. Apart from the ultimate anxiety of death, Tillich (2000) identifies two others, the anxiety of meaninglessness and the anxiety of guilt/condemnation. The anxiety of meaninglessness is anxiety about the loss of an ultimate concern, of a meaning which gives meaning to all meanings. While the anxiety of death evokes in the individual a striving for absolute security, the anxiety of meaninglessness drives the individual towards the creation of certitude in systems of meaning, which are supported by tradition and authority. The anxiety of condemnation is anxiety about the inability to fulfil moral purpose, be what is expected of an individual, and stems from the ambiguity between good and evil. This generates a striving for perfection and moral self-discipline. Anxiety bears great potential to instigate multiple, theoretically productive research agendas in international relations. Despite its apparent relevance, neither the role of anxiety nor its relation to fear has received the attention it deserves.

Ontological (in)security and peace anxieties   13 In the growing literature on emotions in international relations, anxiety is often conflated with fear and not analysed in a theoretically informed manner. Several recent studies have discussed the emotional bases of conflict and stressed the need for an ‘emotional turning point’ in conflict resolution (Crawford 2000; Hutchison & Bleiker 2008), but have not identified anxiety as the key emotion to this process. A notable exception in political science is the use of Terror Management Theory in psychology to explain the inclination towards conservative ideologies. Terror Management Theory stipulates that in order to buffer the anxiety that derives from the awareness of the inevitability of one’s death, individuals will imbue their universe with meaning and strive to place themselves in the centre of that universe (Solomon et al. 2004). This chapter provides a start by theorizing the implications of anxiety in processes of conflict transformation and resolution. I argue that conflicts help contain the existential anxieties – of death, meaninglessness, and condemnation – respectively by establishing definite objects of fear, producing systems of meaning that clearly differentiate friends from enemies, and setting unequivocal moral standards premised on the necessity for survival. Consequently, conflict transformation/ resolution unleashes these anxieties by diminishing and eliminating fears, undermining certitude, generating moral ambiguities, and most importantly, by disrupting the routines and habits through which these anxieties are contained in everyday life. The anxieties that are unleashed by conflict resolution and peace processes can be aptly referred to as ‘peace anxieties’. Peace anxieties generate a striving to re-establish the pre-existing objects of fear, systems of meaning and standards of moral purpose. Yet, at the same time, due to its inherent ambivalence and positive potential, anxiety provides the actor with that critical, yet fleeting, moment of freedom and choice so intensely studied by Kierkegaard (1980, 1983). At this moment of freedom, one possibility is to contain anxiety by returning to the pre-established object of fear, the enemy, and its associated system of meaning and standard of moral purpose. The other is to choose anxiety over fear in the short-run, with the expectation that in the longrun, new systems of meaning, and standards of moral purpose will be established wherein the act of peace-making will be deemed to be one of courage. Thus, anxiety is an integral part of conflict resolution/peace processes, and performs a dual role: on the one hand, it generates a longing for a return to conflict and to its established objects of fear, systems of meaning, and standards of morality. On the other, and at the same time, by unsettling the established systems of meaning, it provides the actors with the necessary realm of individual freedom and choice to enact change. In other words, in the context of conflict resolution/peace processes, anxiety emerges as both a necessary condition and an undermining force. Although anxieties are experienced individually, the objects of fear, systems of meaning, and standards of morality through which individuals contain anxiety are socially and politically produced. What unleashes anxiety at the individual level, therefore, are disruptions in the political and social processes through which anxieties have heretofore been contained. These political and social processes implicate the society and state in anxiety, and complicate and circumscribe the

14  Bahar Rumelili positive potential and realm of choice present in anxiety. In addition, anxiety, like other emotions, also has a social dimension that cannot be reduced to the aggregation of individual-level emotions.2 Emotions are socially meaningful practices and therefore, the reflexive awareness and practical expression of anxiety rests on shared understandings and expectations (Bialy-Mattern 2011). Therefore, although ontological security and anxiety are essentially individuallevel concepts, it would be misplaced to study their role in conflict resolution/ peace processes purely at the individual level, independently of their societal and state level repercussions and collective dimension. Thus, the next section of this chapter sets out to provide an analysis of the political and social processes implicated in the production of ontological security and containment of anxiety.

The production of ontological security: the societal/state level As noted earlier, peace anxieties, and their effects on conflict resolution processes should not be studied independently of their underlying and constitutive political and social processes. These political and social processes implicate the state and society in the production of ontological security (Huysmans 1998; Marlow 2002). Of particular relevance are the political processes of securitization (Wæver 1995; Buzan et al. 1998; Balzacq 2005), which establish the objects of fear, and the political and social processes of meaning constitution, which maintain ideational stability (Huysmans 1998; Marlow 2002; Kinnvall 2004) and construct narratives of self-identity and self/other distinctions (Neumann 1996; Hansen 2006; Rumelili 2004, 2007).These processes together shape the ways in which individuals and collectives confront and deal with anxieties and these processes would need to be reversed and re-made in order for anxiety to become an instigator for positive change. Securitization is a key political process in the containment of anxiety and production of ontological security. The vast literature on securitization theory has studied how, by pronouncing certain issues as security issues, political actors instil a sense of imminent threat and danger in society and legitimize exceptional measures. Apart from the seminal study of Huysmans (1998), less attention has been paid to the ways in which securitization is implicated in the production of ontological security. Securitization establishes objects of fear, which serves to displace the existential anxieties onto concrete threats that can be managed, attacked, and endured. But we cannot assume that all acts of securitization will achieve the necessary resonance and thereby succeed in generating a framework of ontological security. In that respect, conflicts structure, regularize, and provide a stable and legitimate focal point for securitization practices. In other words, conflicts facilitate the production of ontological security, by regularizing and legitimating securitization. Anxiety is contained both through the establishment of objects of fear (i.e. securitization) and through the construction and reproduction of stable systems of meaning and morality (i.e. meaning constitution). In terms of Tillich’s anxiety categories, the former directly addresses the anxiety of death, while the latter is

Ontological (in)security and peace anxieties   15 directed towards containing the anxieties of meaninglessness and condemnation. The significance of this latter process of meaning constitution is widely noted; yet has not been theorized as systematically as securitization. A notable exception is Catarina Kinnvall (2004) who has underscored how nationalism and religion function as powerful identity-signifiers that enable individuals to contain the anxiety and ontological insecurity induced by globalization and provide convenient rallying points for elites. Ontological security requires the fixing of social relations into a symbolic and institutional order (Huysmans 1998) and therefore political elites strive to create and maintain ‘ideational stability through a set of conscious and unconscious, implicit and explicit practices’ to counter the ‘growing susceptibility to feelings of insecurity and anxiety in modern society’ (Marlow 2002). The construction of meaning systems encompasses the construction of identity narratives. As noted earlier, a feeling of biographical continuity and its communication to other people as such are essential components of ontological security at the individual level. Individuals form their identities on the basis of the identity categories and narratives that are produced politically and socially. Not all political attempts to manufacture a sense of belonging and generate ideational stability stick. In this context, conflicts generate more clear-cut, mutually exclusive and uncontested Self/Other distinctions (Neumann 1996; Hansen 2006; Rumelili 2004, 2007), which then serve as focal points for constructions of collectivity and of systems of meaning and morality. The production of stable meaning systems is often a source of contestation among elites, who embrace and advocate alternative identity constructions based on political and strategic rationales. As a result of such political struggles, the pursuit of ontological security and ideational stability often yields multiple/ shifting as opposed to singular/fixed identity narratives. While, as noted above, conflicts regularize securitization and legitimize the production of clear-cut oppositional identities, these effects limit the range of political contestation, but can never eliminate it. As a result, the production of ontological security comes to rest on the accommodation of these multiple/shifting identity narratives. Both Lupovici and Loizides, in their respective contributions to this volume, survey the broad spectrum of identity narratives that have historically competed against one another in framing the Israel–Palestine and Cyprus conflicts. According to both, the multiplicity and complexity of identity formation processes burden the resolution attempts in the two conflict settings. Loizides contends that previous mediation attempts have failed to address the internal divisions within the two Cypriot communities, while Lupovici argues that as a result of its competing identities, Israel remains locked in conflict and trapped in a state of ontological insecurity. In her analysis of the Northern Irish peace process, Mitchell also warns against treating the Self and Other as internally homogenous, and argues that analyses of the production of ontological security should take into account its effects on ‘multiple other Selves and other Others’. She lays out the ways in which the peace process fragmented the primary Self/Other, i.e. Republican/Loyalist identities and generated [ontological] insecurities on part of those Republican and Loyalist groups (other Selves), who were marginalized within the process.

16  Bahar Rumelili In addition, the set of meanings and narratives through which one societal group pursues ontological security may generate ontological insecurity for other societal groups, and thus generate conflict. Both Bilgin and İnce’s and Çelik’s chapters in this volume analyse how the dominant narratives underpinning Turkish nationalism have generated ontological insecurity on part of the ethnic and religious minorities in Turkey. Drawing on the case of Turkey’s Kurdish conflict, Çelik underlines that in many asymmetric ethnic conflicts, the dominant ethnic group pursues ontological security via narratives that deny the existence of the minority and delegitimize its political aims. Bilgin and İnce, on the other hand, contend that the exclusionary narratives and restrictive boundaries of Turkish nationalism have generated ontological insecurity also on the part of the dominant Turkish ethnicity, by making Turkish identity contingent on ceding all possible claims to difference. In the context of these ongoing contestations, conflicts integrally link processes of securitization and meaning constitution. The establishment of an object of fear also provides answers to existential questions about being, self in relation to external world and others, by constructing the object of fear as the Other, radically different, inherently incompatible, and morally inferior. The friend/ enemy distinctions established by securitization processes provide the basis for the construction of identity (Kinnvall 2004), while the sense of danger and imminent threat to survival generate ideational stability. But the construction of stable systems of meaning and morality do not necessitate securitization and can be realized in its absence. Apart from objects of fear, stable systems of meaning and morality can develop around other references, such as biographical narratives (Berenskoetter 2007, 2012), memories, symbols, and non-antagonistic identity constructions (Rumelili 2004, 2007, forthcoming). The key to conflict resolution lies in this very possibility of containing anxiety without securitization. Regardless of the method through which it is achieved, conflict resolution necessitates and entails a process of desecuritization, which removes the object of fear from the security realm, and diminishes fears by deelevating the perception of threat and instilling a sense of normalcy (Wæver 1995; Hansen 2012). Because conflicts integrally link processes of securitization and meaning constitution, desecuritization activates a simultaneous process of deconstruction of these systems of meaning and moral standard.3 When the object of fear is removed from the security realm, its status as the Other becomes ambiguous, and this ambiguity unsettles the previously taken-for-granted self-understandings about being and identity (Rumelili forthcoming). Thus, desecuritization heightens anxieties as it removes the objects of fear. At the societal/state level, the realm of choice in anxiety presents itself in the recoupling or de-coupling of processes of securitization and meaning constitution. As noted above, conflicts integrally link both processes, but the latter does not necessitate the former. The anxiety induced by conflict resolution both invites a re-coupling, a reaffirmation of the systems of meaning and morality established during the conflict through re-securitization, a return to established objects of fear. This is the pathway through which conflict resolution sets in motion political and

Ontological (in)security and peace anxieties   17 social processes that reproduce and re-activate conflicts. But anxiety also opens up a space for the de-coupling meaning constitution from securitization, through the establishment of an alternative system of meaning with comparable certainty, which is ingrained in new narratives and practices. This is how and why conflict resolution necessitates the political and social production of alternative narratives that re-situate the Self in relation to Other and to the world at large, and that become embedded in new habits and routines.

Conflict and ontological (in)security: the interstate/inter-party level In addition to sustaining processes of securitization and meaning constitution domestically, conflicts place political actors in a state of ontological security vis-à-vis one another. Applying the concept of ontological security to the study of International Relations, Mitzen (2006a, p.341) has argued that, in addition to physical security, states also seek ontological security, which is the ‘security not of the body but of the self, the subjective sense of who one is, which enables and motivates action and choice’ (Mitzen 2006a, p.344). A growing body of literature in International Relations has stressed that the pursuit of ontological security leads actors to ‘routinize relationships with significant others’ (Mitzen 2006a, p.341) and choose ‘courses of action comfortable with their sense of identity’ (Steele 2005, p.526). As an additional motivation for state behaviour in international relations, it has been argued that ontological security may even lead actors to undertake courses of action that compromise their physical security. Thus, due to concerns of ontological security, states may become locked into conflict-producing (Mitzen 2006a) or cooperative routines (Mitzen 2006b), undertake risky and costly humanitarian interventions to avoid shame (Steele 2008), and adopt strategies of denial (Zarakol 2010) and avoidance when their multiple identities call for competing courses of action (Lupovici 2012). This literature on ontological security and International Relations maintains the prevalent, but also widely debated, practice in international relations theory of projecting individual-level phenomena to the state level.4 This study, while noting that peace anxieties can be experienced and manifested at the individual, group/ societal, and state levels in different ways and to varying degrees, also underlines that states and other collective actors do not ‘feel’ and experience anxiety in the way that individuals do. It is not the state, but the individuals and elites within the state that feel and experience the anxiety. But what makes it appropriate to apply the concept at the level of states is that the peace anxieties that are experienced individually and collectively by elites produce aggregate behavioural outcomes that are analogous to those at the individual level. Conflict resolution undermines the practical repertoire of social and political elites who have previously been involved in establishing objects of fear, systems of meaning, and standards of good and evil. As they lose their ability to ascribe meaning, act and legitimate their actions, the overall ability of the state to sustain and justify a coherent narrative about its existence both domestically and internationally is diminished; its practices become incoherent and contradictory.

18  Bahar Rumelili Conflicts place not only states, but whichever political actor is party to a conflict (rebel groups, minority and majority ethnic groups) in a state of ontological security vis-à-vis one another. Conflicts constitute a framework which enables parties to make sense of international life in a particular and stable way and bracket out other confounding factors. Apart from the option of violence, conflicts provide political actors with a rich repertoire of practices and habitual actions, such as diplomatic notes, belligerent rhetoric, non-recognition, taking oppositional stances towards one another in international organizations. For example, in the Cyprus conflict, parties spend significant diplomatic energy in practices of non-recognition. Such conflict habits provide parties with ‘ready-made responses to the world that they execute without thinking’ (Hopf 2010, p.541) and thereby preclude meaningful agency. Over time, these conflict practices constitute actors’ identities and realm of appropriate behaviour. While states’ pursuit of ontological security may be posited as a constant feature of international relations, contexts of ontological security change over time and space. The changing contexts of ontological security also shape the overall salience of conflicts for ontological security purposes. As Browning and Joenniemi underline in their contribution to this volume, changing ideas about the requirements of national identity have been critical in the elevation of Karelia to the status of the mythic homeland of Finnish nationalism in the nineteenth century, and later the gradual diminishing of its importance. Yet, one observes that the significance of territory as a marker of national identity and the importance of territorial conflicts for ontological security has nothing but waned in contexts such as Israel/Palestine and Cyprus. Patterns of inclusion and exclusion in international society also impact the contexts of ontological security for states. In particular, the post-colonial condition generates a deep-rooted sense of ontological insecurity vis-à-vis international society (Zarakol 2010, 2011), and as has been amply noted in post-colonial studies, this insecurity has produced a rich repertoire of narratives and practices, ranging from resistance to wholesale socialization. The structural anxieties that stem from non-recognition, infantilization, and exclusion create a context conducive to their manipulation by political actors into concrete fears. Accordingly, Bilgin and İnce highlight in their contribution to this volume the sense of insecurity that Turkey experienced vis-à-vis international society after the end of World War I, and argue that the discriminatory citizenship practices of early republican Turkey were prompted by the perceived need to ‘produce a unified body of citizens modelled after other nation-states of the time’. In short, ontological security is not only produced through domestic social and political processes but also constituted via intersubjective expectations and understandings. Consequently, conflict resolution generates anxieties, not only by disrupting domestic processes of securitization and meaning constitution, but also undermining shared expectations and understandings at the inter-party level. At the unit-level, conflict resolution destabilizes the taken-for-granted understandings of international relations and disrupts the established diplomatic narratives and behavioural patterns. To appreciate the difficulty of this situation, just imagine

Ontological (in)security and peace anxieties   19 an Israeli prime minister giving his/her annual speech at the United Nations following the resolution of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict: What would s/he say? In such a context, the search for certainty and predictability tempts the political actors to re-enact the established behavioural patterns in an attempt to reproduce the familiar understandings of international relations. At the intersubjective level, other international actors also encourage such a re-enactment of the familiar because they depend on it for their own ontological security. Ontological security concerns at the inter-party level make conflict resolution difficult but not impossible. Anxiety opens up space for breaking the conflict habits and the intersubjective negotiation and redefinition of identities. Hopf (2010, p.543) underlines that habits are strong promoters of the status quo and are most likely to change in the long term with repeated cognitive shocks, such as exposure to unassimilable information. Anxiety constitutes the emotional turning point that translates the unassimilable information into cognitive shocks and thus makes critical reflection about habits possible. Anxiety is thus critical to understanding how conflicts and other patterns in international relations are maintained but simultaneously remain vulnerable to change.

Conflict resolution: the contribution of ontological security The otherwise extensive and rich literature on conflict resolution has previously not engaged with the notion of ontological security and analysed how the pursuit of ontological security may impact conflict resolution processes. The contributors to this volume believe that such an analysis provides critical insights that ought not to be missed. Having outlined how conflicts and conflict resolution processes interact with the pursuit of ontological security at the individual, societal, and inter-state/inter-party levels, and having discussed how ‘peace anxieties’ both undermine and enable the attainment of peace, this section of the chapter points out the contributions of ontological security to the existing literature on conflict resolution. Numerous scholars and practitioners of conflict resolution have underscored that identity-based and interest-based concerns are closely intertwined in conflicts and that, consequently, interest-based bargaining methods are insufficient and there is the need to also address the psycho-cultural dynamics of conflict (Kelman 1979, Ross 1993, Rothman & Olson 2001). It has also been argued that the psychocultural dynamics assume an important role especially in ‘intractable’ conflicts, which are characterized as ‘being protracted, irreconcilable, violent, of a zerosum nature, total, and central, with the parties involved having an interest in their continuation’ (Bar-Tal 2000). In such conflicts, embedded stereotypical enemy images contribute to the perpetuation and intensification of conflicts because they are highly resistant to change even when the adversaries signal their intent to cooperate (Stein 2005). Thus, many would concur that conflict resolution, defined as the political process through which parties to a conflict eliminate the perceived incompatibility between their goals and interests, only leads to a formal termination of conflict

20  Bahar Rumelili but does not establish peaceful relations. What is also needed is a socio-cultural process of reconciliation, where ‘a majority of a society’s members change their beliefs about the former adversary, about their own society, and about the relationship between the two groups’ (Bar-Tal 2000, p.356; see also Lederach 1997; Ackermann 1994). In different post-conflict settings, reconciliation-based approaches have emphasized the need for truth, justice, forgiveness and healing. Bar-Tal (2000, p.360) has argued that societal beliefs about conflict, i.e. the conflict ethos, are resistant to change because they are widely disseminated by cultural, educational, social, and political institutions, often become an ideological basis for various political groups. Moreover, Bar-Tal (2000) has underlined that society often perceives a change in the conflict ethos as a threat to its identity, and thus develops mechanisms to guard the consensus. Mainstream conflict resolution approaches have drawn on theories of social psychology to understand and intervene in the complex psycho-cultural dynamics of conflict (Deutsch 2002; for a review, see Çuhadar & Dayton 2011). Based on findings that lack of contact reinforces group bias, promoting contact between different identity groups has emerged as a conflict resolution approach (Pettigrew 1998). A number of interactive conflict resolution approaches have been developed that bring participants together in structured workshops to identify and address their identity needs, biases, and prejudices. Yet, empirical research has demonstrated that contact does not always diminish prejudice, and that interventions at the interpersonal level do not always translate into outcomes at the intergroup level (Çuhadar and Dayton 2011). Ontological security is not an additional need that can be subsumed within the framework of social-psychological approaches to conflict resolution. Rather, it is the fundamental need through which the needs that may be addressed through dialogue and bargaining arise. Extant approaches generally begin with the assumption of a pre-given set of disputed goods and biases, and overlook how it is the quest for ontological security that drives the political and social processes through which the parties determine the set of disputed goods and construct their identities in relation to one another (Farneti 2009). Addressing the issues and biases at stake through bargaining and dialogue only deals with the tip of the iceberg, whereas ontological security directs our attention to the production of conflict through the political processes of securitization and social processes of identity construction. Conflict resolution within an ontological security framework therefore necessitates the reconstruction of the political and social processes that are implicated in the production of ontological security. Moreover, ontological security highlights the deeply embedded emotional and practical nature of conflict and enemy constructions. Enemy images are not simply stereotypical cognitive beliefs about the enemy that can change when confronted with contradictory information. Rather, they become ingrained in the ontological framework in which individuals make sense of themselves and the world around them, and become embedded in their practical consciousness. Thus, they obtain an existential and habitual quality, and being subject to contradictory information about and experience with the enemy (e.g. in conflict resolution workshops)

Ontological (in)security and peace anxieties   21 generates strong and disruptive emotional reactions. In this respect, as Hutchison and Bleiker (2008) argue, some form of emotional turning point in conflict must be reached before divided societies can cultivate new beliefs. Anxiety is a key emotion whose role in conflict resolution has not been sufficiently studied. The analytical framework below highlights that in order to arrive at a stable peace, conflict resolution processes need to at first provoke anxiety and to later contain it. In other words, anxiety is simultaneously a productive and a counter-productive emotion; on the one hand, by unsettling the formed frameworks of ontological security, it opens up the possibility of their reconstruction, on the other, it creates a setting conducive to the re-manufacturing of established fears and the reactivation of conflict. Finally, ontological security invites emphasis on intra-party processes of identity redefinition and meaning reconstruction over inter-party negotiation and dialogue. Coping with peace anxieties necessitates the formulation of alternative self-narratives at the individual, societal, and state levels that re-situate the Self in relation to the Other and to the world at large, and that become embedded in new habits and routines. Thus, from an ontological security perspective, there cannot be a standard formula, a universally applicable process through which conflict resolution is achieved. The peace that is achieved in specific conflict contexts will be ultimately shaped by the existing frameworks of ontological security and the outcome of their negotiation at the individual, societal, and state levels. Therefore, peace is inevitably local and the product of everyday practices. As Richmond points out in his contribution to this volume, despite the imposition of a Western blueprint, peace-formation practices in contexts such as Somalia, Kenya, Colombia, and Afghanistan have drawn on everyday, local, and historical processes. Based on these contributions that the notion of ontological security makes to the study of conflict resolution. Figure 1.1 depicts the overarching analytical framework of the volume. The framework is premised on a stage model, where Securitization

Low

Conflict-in-resolution

Unstable conflict

Peace

Stable conflict

Low

High FEAR

Figure 1.1  Conflict resolution and ontological security: four states

(disruption)

High

Deconstruction

A N X I E T Y

Reconstruction

Desecuritization

22  Bahar Rumelili different states of conflict/conflict resolution/peace are marked by different states of fear and anxiety at the individual, societal, and state levels. The 2 × 2 boxes in the diagram indicate these states, i.e. stable conflicts, characterized by high levels of fear but low levels of anxiety, unstable conflicts, marked by high levels of both fear and anxiety, conflicts-in-resolution characterized by low levels of fear but high levels of anxiety, and finally peace characterized by low levels of both fear and anxiety. The arrows on the top and right-hand sides indicate the processes that produce these varying levels of fear and anxiety: political acts/practices of securitization and political/social practices of meaning constitution. Basically, securitization heightens, whereas desecuritization lowers fears, reproduction/ reconstruction of meanings lower, while deconstruction/disruption of established meanings heighten anxieties. Finally the dotted arrows indicate how conflict resolution/peace processes move through and across different states of fear and anxiety. It should be noted that there is no direct arrow from a state of stable conflict to one of peace. This captures the key argument of this chapter that the lowering of fears necessarily heightens anxieties, as a result, conflicts first become unstable or progress to a state of resolution (marked by high anxiety) before reaching the ultimate state of peace. In addition, the arrows indicate how conflict resolution/ peace processes are susceptible to reversal at each stage. This rests on the other key argument of this chapter that heightened anxieties and ontological insecurity generate conditions conducive to securitization and the re-activation of old fears. These processes and the four different states of conflict/conflict resolution/ peace characterized by different levels of anxiety and fear depicted in the diagram are discussed in length below. Stable conflicts Stable conflicts are characterized by low levels of anxiety and high levels of fear. Parties contain their anxieties by establishing the Other as an object of fear, and a source of imminent threat to survival. Similarly, the systems of meaning which provide certitude solidify around the construction of the other as anti-Self, and as morally inferior. The reproduction of this narrative becomes embedded in various routines and habits, enters into practical consciousness and thus generates ontological security. This state of low anxiety/high fear is politically and socially produced. Fears and threat perceptions are reproduced through the securitization of the issues of discord between self and other. In other words, the other becomes an object of fear, and certain issues, such as control over a specific territory, come to be constituted as vital, existential, and non-negotiable, not because they are inherently so, but because they are repeatedly articulated as such by political actors. Securitization legitimizes military measures, empowers the military and transforms other actors into security actors, and delegitimizes contact and negotiation. Similarly, the radical identity differences between parties do not stem from pre-given incompatibilities, but they arise in the social processes of constituting one’s identity in relation to others (Neumann 1996; Hansen 2006; Rumelili 2004, 2007). Securitization and radicalization of identities are

Ontological (in)security and peace anxieties   23 mutually reinforcing processes. Securitization further constrains the flexibility of the meaning systems and moral standards; the pluralism and multiplicity of identities and self-narratives are suppressed through the political construction of, and the differentiation of self from, a singular, homogeneous, archetypal, and always threatening Other (Williams 2003). The radicalization of the Other, in turn, enables securitization to permeate different layers of society, and extends its societal reach, resonance, and legitimacy. The cases of protracted conflicts analysed in this volume, i.e. the Cypriot, Kurdish and the Israeli/Palestinian conflicts, demonstrate that stable conflicts are, in fact, not consistently stable across time and parties. In the case of the Cyprus conflict, Loizides demonstrates how developments such as the referendum on the Annan Plan, and the ever-present competition between different identity narratives have periodically heightened anxieties on part of the two communities on the island. Çelik emphasizes the asymmetrical nature of the Kurdish conflict, arguing that the Kurdish minority has more or less consistently remained at a state of ontological insecurity, while the Turkish majority has enjoyed relatively high levels of ontological security. As will be discussed next, Lupovici, on the other hand, characterizes the Israeli–Palestinian conflict as an unstable conflict, at least from the Israeli point of view. Unstable conflicts Unstable conflicts are characterized by high levels of both anxiety and fear. Conflicts become unstable when the object(s) of fear established through securitization processes are unable to contain and suppress the multiple anxieties at the individual or collective level, in particular the anxieties of meaninglessness and condemnation. As noted above, securitization and radicalization of identities are mutually reinforcing processes that legitimate one another. However, the systems of meaning and moral standard, established through the construction of the object of fear as radically different and morally inferior, may be destabilized as a result of internal or external developments. An example of such destabilization is provided by Lupovici in his contribution to this volume: Drawing on Barnett (1999), Lupovici argues that the end of the Cold War, the acknowledgement by Arab countries of Israel’s right to exist and the First Intifada destabilized Israeli narratives so that the conflict with the Palestinians could no longer provide Israel with the ontological security it had provided before. The heightened anxieties in unstable conflicts generally trigger further securitization and a further suppression of the ambiguities in identity and moral standard, by reproducing the construction of the Other as radically different, morally inferior, and a source of imminent and existential threat. Anxiety creates a setting conducive for spoilers (Stedman 1997) to reverse peace processes. Those individuals and organizations, whose interests would be undermined with the resolution of conflicts, exploit the state of high anxiety to marginalize and delegitimize conflict resolution initiatives. As a result, the emerging disjuncture between the object of fear and standards of meaning and morality is eliminated;

24  Bahar Rumelili the anxieties that were unleashed as a result of this disjuncture are contained and the conflict is stabilized. Not all unstable conflicts revert to a stable conflict form, however. In the context of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict, Lupovici discusses how Israeli anxieties are sought to be contained through creating ambiguities about the Palestinian Other: by distinguishing between Hamas and Fatah, and consequently securitizing the former while conducting negotiations with the latter. This equivocal policy has locked Israel, according to Lupovici, in a state of ontological insecurity. However, besides such paralysing effects, anxiety simultaneously makes conflicts ‘ripe for resolution’ (Zartman 1989).5 The destabilization of existing systems of meaning paves the way for political learning and the reconstruction of identities. This may unleash a process of desecuritization, which reverses the processes that establish the Other as an object of fear. The issues of discord between self and other are no longer treated as sources of imminent and existential threat and sought to be resolved in the realm of normal politics. By lowering fears in a state of heightened anxiety, the process of desecuritization transforms unstable conflicts into conflicts-in-resolution. In this vein, Çelik argues that, given the asymmetrical nature of the Kurdish conflict, heightening anxieties among the majority Turks is a necessary condition for a successful and durable peace process. Conflicts-in-resolution Conflicts-in-resolution are characterized by high levels of anxiety and yet low levels of fear. Stable conflicts may be transformed into conflicts-in-resolution through alternative pathways. Either as described above, conflicts first become unstable, and then processes of desecuritization set in to lower fears through an internally driven process. Or externally facilitated or enforced peace agreements lower fears in stable conflicts by resolving the issues of discord and reducing the perception of threat from the Other. Yet, conflict-in-resolution remains a state of heightened anxiety because the removal of the object of fear unleashes the anxieties that were previously suppressed and generates ambiguities in systems of meaning and morality. The routines through which conflict is enacted are disrupted; the existential questions which were settled in conflict narratives resurface. The individual, society, and the state become less able to maintain a stable and consistent self-identity and reflect this identity in coherent and meaningful practices. Heightened anxiety generates a striving to (re)establish objects of fear; and therefore generates a social and political context conducive to securitization. As collective anxiety permeates through the public and the political elite, the latter act to channel this anxiety into habituated fears; for example by elevating minor outstanding aspects of peace agreements into existential insecurities and threats. The regeneration of fears, in turn, lowers anxieties by helping to reestablish certitude in systems of meaning and morality, and facilitating a return to established narratives and routines. The identity of the Other as uncompromising, not trustworthy, and radically different is reproduced, which legitimates the

Ontological (in)security and peace anxieties   25 continued perception of threat. As a result, conflicts-in-resolution transmorph back into unstable or stable conflicts. Thus, heightened anxiety and ontological insecurity set in motion political and social processes that reproduce and reactivate conflicts. In both of the cases of conflicts-in-resolution studied in this volume, namely the Northern Irish conflict and Turkey’s minority conflicts, we find not a reversion to the original conflict, but the emergence of other forms of securitization and violence. Mitchell shows how the Northern Irish peace process has heightened anxieties among groups marginalized and sidelined from the process and this anxiety has found expression in routine outbursts of violence. Bilgin and İnce similarly find that the terms on which Greek-Turkish conflicts were resolved by the 1923 Treaty of Lausanne, through forced migration and assimilation, became the bedrock of discriminatory citizenship practices in Turkey that generated new insecurities and conflicts on the part of majority and minority groups. While desecuritization processes in general heighten anxieties, some forms of desecuritization may be prone to generating higher levels of anxiety than others. Building on Lene Hansen (2012), Browning and Joenniemi argue in their contribution to this volume, that resolving conflicts through convincing people that the Other is no longer a threat, or not dangerous as it once was supposed, generates a relatively higher level of anxiety compared to resolving conflicts through elevating in importance another perceived threat. In the latter case, the anxiety that is unleashed by conflict resolution is suppressed through the construction of new threat objects. Unless threat perceptions are directed towards issues of common security, such as environmental degradation, conflict resolution is achieved only at the expense of the construction of another stable conflict. Peace The framework, therefore, highlights the impossibility of arriving at ‘peace’ solely through addressing fears. To be sustainable, peace has to be characterized by low levels of both anxiety and fear. To arrive at this state, what is needed is the reconstruction of new systems of meaning and morality that sustain and legitimate the fact that the Other is no longer an object of fear. These new systems of meaning and morality provide individuals and collectives with new answers to their existential questions, and over the long term become ingrained in alternative habits and routines. Unlike the mainly political process of desecuritization, this process of reconstruction is both political and social, and unfolds over a longer period of time. These new systems of meaning and morality may take multiple forms and realized in alternative ways, and need to be empirically studied in different contexts. Browning and Joenniemi provide in their contribution to this volume an example of how new systems of meaning and morality develop. They argue that Finland was reconciled with the loss of Karelia, the mythical land of Finnish nationalism, to Russia after World War II by recasting both the identity of Russia and the position of Karelia in national identity discourses. Similarly, Joenniemi

26  Bahar Rumelili discusses in a separate chapter how Åland islanders adjusted to the League of Nations’ 1921 decision that sanctioned them to remain part of Finland, despite their wish to be united with Sweden. Instead of fully reconciling themselves with their status as part of Finland, they pursued ontological security through positioning Finland as a significant Other and sustaining identity-related tensions. Anxiety interferes with the process of peace-building and holds the potential to reignite conflicts, long after the conditions that promote insecurity have been alleviated. In this respect, Mitchell’s contribution to this volume is a forceful reminder that the road from a conflict-in-resolution to peace is paved with many difficulties. Peace anxieties are experienced differently at the individual, group, and societal levels, and the new systems of meaning and morality produced in the context of peace processes may reinstate ontological security for some groups while heightening the anxieties of others. Even in case of long-resolved conflicts, such as the Åland islands, Joenniemi shows that ontological security remains fragile, and discusses how the external development of EU membership has dislocated the frameworks of ontological security established and perfected over the years and re-ignited certain existential anxieties. The association of peace with low levels of both anxiety and fear does not idealize or privilege a particular ontology of peace over others. In fact, it sustains a critical outlook by underlining the ways in which various interventions carried out in the name of ‘peace’ heighten anxieties by dictating liberal models of subjectivity and coexistence that disrupt local narratives, identities, habits, and practices (Richmond 2008, 2011). These heightened anxieties in turn unleash processes of securitization that generate new objects of fear or regenerate the old ones. Thus, far from generating peace, various peace-building interventions end up maintaining, at best, conflicts-in-resolution, and, at worst, unstable conflicts; states of heightened anxiety coupled with varying degrees of fear. Hence, ontological security drives home the distinction between peace and various forms of outside intervention that succeed in addressing, to a certain extent, concerns of physical security. In other words, even when peace-building interventions succeed in providing physical security, they often fail miserably in the provision of ontological security because they are premised on the imposition of a particular, Western, ontology of peace and security. As Richmond underlines in his contribution to this volume, ontological security in peace-building contexts can only emerge through an ontological pluralism, which rejects the Northern mono-ontological conceptions of peace and security in favour of local dynamics of ‘peace-formation’. Only when outside efforts to diminish fears are in harmony with local and everyday approaches, narratives, habits and practices, we can arrive at a stable state of low anxiety and low fear.

Notes 1 This corresponds to the difference between Freudian understanding of anxiety, which sees it as a sign of pathology and the existential-phenomenological understanding, which regards anxiety as an inevitable aspect of human life. (Kirby 2004, p. 76).

Ontological (in)security and peace anxieties   27 2 On collective anxiety, see also Bartholomew and Victor (2004). 3 Wæver (2009) develops a stage model where desecuritization in the more limited sense removing immediate existential threat precedes identity change. 4 On critical appraisals of the application of the concept of ontological security to the state level, see Krolikowski (2008) and Croft (2012). 5 Zartman (1989) defines ripeness as a mutually hurting stalemate. However, in many stable conflicts, parties continue the conflict despite suffering great economic and political losses and having little chance of prevailing. Therefore, the destabilization of existing systems of meaning is necessary to generate the awareness of such a condition.

Bibliography Ackermann, A. 1994, ‘Reconciliation as a Peace-Building Process in Postwar Europe: The Franco-German Case’, Peace and Change, vol.19, pp.229–250. Bially-Mattern, J. 2011, ‘A Practice Theory of Emotion for International Relations’ in International Practices, eds E Adler & V Pouliot, pp.63–86. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Balzacq, T. 2005, ‘The Three Faces of Securitisation: Political Agency, Audience, and Context’, European Journal of International Relations, vol.11, no.2, pp.171–201. Bar-Tal, D. 2000, ‘From Intractable Conflict through Conflict Resolution to Reconciliation: Psychological Analysis’, Political Psychology, vol.21, no. 2, pp.351–365. Barnett, M. 1999, ‘Culture, Strategy and Foreign Policy Change: Israel’s Road to Oslo’, European Journal of International Relations, vol.5, no.1 pp. 5–36. Bartholomew, R. E. & Victor, J. S. 2004, ‘A Social Psychological Theory of Collective Anxiety Attacks’, The Sociological Quarterly, vol.45, no.2, pp.229–248. Berenskoetter, F. 2007, ‘Friends, There Are No friends? An Intinate Framing of the International’, Millennium: Journal of International Studies, vol.35, no.3, pp.647–676. Berenskoetter, F. 2012, ‘Parameters of a National Biography’, European Journal of International Relations, advance online publication 16 October. Brewer, M. B. & Brown, R. 1998, ‘Inter-Group Relations’, in The Handbook of Social Psychology, 4th edn, eds D. Gilbert, S. Fiske & D. Lindzey. Boston, MA: McGraw-Hill. Brewer, M. 2001, ‘In-group Identification and Inter-group Conflict’, in Social Identity and Inter-Group Conflict Reduction, eds R. Ashmore, L. Jussim & D. Wilder, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Browning, C. S. & Joenniemi, P. 2012, ‘From Fratricide to Security Community: Retheorizing Difference in the Constitution of Nordic Peace’, Journal of International Relations and Development, advance online publication 20 July. Buzan, B., Wæver, O. & de Jaap, W. 1998, Security: A New Framework for Analysis, Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner. Crawford, N. C. 2000, ‘The Passion of World Politics: Propositions on Emotions and Emotional Relationships’, International Security, vol.24, no. 4, pp.116–156. Croft, S. 2012, ‘Constructing Ontological Insecurity: The Insecuritisation of Britain’s Muslims’, Contemporary Security Policy, vol.33, no.2, pp.219–235. Çuhadar, E. & Dayton, B. 2011, ‘The Social Psychology of Identity and Inter-Group Conflict: From Theory to Practice’, International Studies Perspectives, vol.12, pp.273– 293. Deutsch, M. 2002, ‘Social Psychology’s Contributions to the Study of Conflict Resolution’, Negotiation Journal, vol.18, no.4, pp.307–320.

28  Bahar Rumelili Farneti, R. 2009, ‘A Mimetic Perspective on Conflict Resolution’, Polity, vol.41, no.4, pp.536–558. Giddens, A. 1991, Modernity and Self-Identity, New York: Polity Press. Hansen, L. 2006, Security as Practice: Discourse Analysis and the Bosnian War, London and New York: Routledge. Hansen, L. 2012, ‘Reconstructing Desecuritisation: The Normative-Political in the Copenhagen School and Directions for How to Apply It’, Review of International Studies, vol.38, pp.525–546. Heidegger, M. 1962, Being and Time, trans. J. Macquarrie & E. S. Robinson, Oxford: Blackwell Publishers. Hopf, T. 2010, ‘The Logic of Habit in International Relations’, European Journal of International Relations, vol.16, no.4, pp.539–561. Huysmans, J. 1998, ‘Security! What do you Mean? From Concept to Thick Signifier’, European Journal of International Relations, vol.4, no.2, pp.226–255. Hutchison, E. & Bleiker, R. 2008, ‘Emotional Reconciliation. Reconstituting Identity and Community after Trauma’, European Journal of Social Theory, vol. 11, no.3, pp.385– 403. Kelman, H. C. 1979, ‘An Interactional Approach to Conflict Resolution and its Application to Israeli–Palestinian Relations’, International Interactions, vol.6, no.2, pp.99–122. Kierkegaard, S. 1980, ‘The Concept of Anxiety’, in The Essential Kierkegaard, eds H. Hong & E. Hong, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Kierkegaard, S. 1983, Fear and Trembling: Repetition, eds & trans. H. Hong & E. Hong, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Kinnvall, C. 2004, ‘Globalization and Religious Nationalism: Self, Identity, and the Search for Ontological Security’, Political Psychology, vol.25, no.5, pp.741–767. Kirby, S. 2004, ‘Dimensions and Meanings of Anxiety’, Existential Analysis, vol.15, no.1, pp.73–86. Krolikowski, A. 2008, ‘State Personhood in Ontological Security Theories of International Relations and Chinese Nationalism: A. Skeptical View’, The Chinese Journal of International Politics, vol.2, no.1, pp.109–133. Laing, R. D. 1990, The Divided Self: An Existential Study in Sanity and Madness, New York: Penguin Books. Lederach, J. P. 1997, Building Peace: Sustainable Reconciliation in Divided Societies, Washington DC: US Institute of Peace. Lupovici, A. 2012, ‘Ontological Dissonance, Clashing Identities, and Israel’s Unilateral Steps towards the Palestinians’, Review of International Studies, vol. 38, no.4, pp.809– 833. Marlow, J. 2002, ‘Governmentality, Ontological Security, and Ideational Stability: Preliminary observations on the manner, ritual and logic of a particular art of government’ Journal of Political Ideologies, vol.7, no.2, pp.241–259. Mitzen, J. 2006a, ‘Ontological Security in World Politics: State Identity and the Security Dilemma’, European Journal of International Relations, vol.12, no.3, pp.341–370. Mitzen, J. 2006b, ‘Anchoring Europe’s Civilizing Identity: Habits, Capabilities, and Ontological Security’, Journal of European Public Policy, vol.13, no.2, pp.270–285. Neumann, I. B. 1996, ‘Self and Other in International Relations’, European Journal of International Relations, vol.2, no. 2, pp.139–174. Pettigrew, T. 1998, ‘Inter-group Contact Theory’, Annual Review of Psychology, vol. 49, pp.65–85. Richmond, O. P. 2005, The Transformation of Peace, London and New York: Palgrave.

Ontological (in)security and peace anxieties   29 Richmond, O. P. 2008, ‘Reclaiming Peace in International Relations’, Millennium: Journal of International Studies, vol.36, no.3, pp.439–470. Richmond, O. P. 2011, A Post-Liberal Peace, New York: Routledge. Ross, M. H. 1993, The Culture of Conflict: Interpretations and Interests in Comparative Perspective, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Rothman, J. & Olson, M. L. 2001, ‘From Interests to Identities: Towards a New Emphasis in Interactive Conflict Resolution’, Journal of Peace Research, vol.38, no.3, pp.289– 305. Rumelili, B. 2004, ‘Constructing Identity and Relating to Difference: Understanding the EU’s Mode of Differentiation’, Review of International Studies, vol.30, no.1, pp.27–47. Rumelili, B. 2007, Constructing Regional Community and Order in Europe and Southeast Asia, Basingstoke: Palgrave. Rumelili, B. (forthcoming), ‘Identity and Desecuritisation: Possibilities and Limits’, Journal of International Relations and Development. Solomon, S., Greenberg, J. & Pyszczynski, T. 2004, ‘The Cultural Animal: Twenty Years of Terror Management Theory and Research’, in Handbook of Experimental Existential Psychology, eds J. Greenberg, S. Koole & T. Pyszczynski, New York: Guilford Press, pp.13–34. Stedman, S. J. 1997, ‘Spoiler Problem in Peace Processes’, International Security, vol.22, no. 2, pp.5–53. Steele, B. J. 2005, ‘Ontological Security and the Power of Self-Identity: British Neutrality and the American Civil War’, Review of International Studies, vol.31, pp.519–540. Steele, B. J. 2008, Ontological Security in International Relations, New York: Routledge. Stein, J. G. 2005, ‘Image, Identity, and the Resolution of Violent Conflict’, in Turbulent Peace: The Challenges of Managing International Conflict, eds C. A. Crocker, F. O. Hampson & P. Aall, Washington DC: US Institute of Peace, pp.189–208. Tajfel, H. & Turner, J. C. 1986, ‘The Social Identity Theory of Inter-Group Behavior’, in Psychology of Inter-group Relations, eds S. Worche & W. Austin, Chicago, IL: Nelson Hall. Tillich, P. 2000, The Courage to Be, New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press. Wæver, O. 1995, ‘Securitisation and Desecuritisation’, in On Security, ed. R. D. Lipschutz, New York: Columbia University Press, pp.46–86. Wæver, O. 2009, ‘What Exactly Makes a Continuous Existential Threat Existential – and How is it Discontinued?’, in Existential Threats and Civil-Security Relations, eds O. Barak & G. Sheffer, Plymouth: Lexington Books, pp.19–36. Williams, M. C. 2003, ‘Words, Images, Enemies: Securitisation and International Politics’, International Studies Quarterly, vol.47, no.4, pp.511–532. Zarakol, A. 2010, ‘Ontological (In)security and State Denial of Historical Crimes: Turkey and Japan’, International Relations, vol.24, no. 1, pp.3–23. Zarakol, A. 2011, After Defeat: How the East Learned to Live with the West, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Zartman, W. I. 1989, Ripe for Resolution: Conflict and Intervention in Africa, New York: Oxford University Press.

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Part I

Ontological (in)security in protracted conflicts

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2 Ontological security and the Israeli–Palestinian peace process Between unstable conflict and conflict in resolution Amir Lupovici Introduction It is a well-established fact now that the Oslo Accords failed, evidenced, for example, by the eruption of the Second Intifada in 2000. With the Palestinian application to the UN in November 2012 for recognition as a non-member observer state and Israel’s threat that it will annul the Oslo Accords if such a resolution is adopted (Ravid 2012), we have reached a new low in the continuing collapse of the Oslo process. Even Meretz, the most leftist Zionist party in Israel, now agrees with the Palestinian position, calling for the abandonment of Oslo’s framework and the establishment of a new mechanism to build peace between the sides (Somfalvi 2012). I address this failure by suggesting that the agreements unleashed anxiety and created ontological insecurity. While ontological insecurity opened the way for the Oslo process in the early 1990s (Barnett 1999), and while some Israeli identities pushed Israel towards the peace process (Adler 2002) – albeit not necessarily to reconciliation (Barak 2005; Rouhana 2004) – this process could not fully address the ontological insecurity that erupted following it. From the Israeli perspective, all of the core elements of the conflict, which are currently still on the table, had to be addressed in order to resolve the conflict: these include the border issue, Jerusalem, the ‘right of return’, and security arrangements (Barak 2005). In other words, I suggest that the peace process creates ontological insecurity for Jewish Israelis that stems from the threat to their various identities. Furthermore, the measures required to address each of these threats create additional challenges, causing a clash among different cherished values of the Israeli self and leading to ontological dissonance (Lupovici 2012). The main point here is that moving towards peace puts more pressure on the Jewish-Israeli identity, while not advancing in the peace process puts more pressure on the democratic Israeli identity. It is therefore that the need to choose between these two dimensions of the Israeli self is a source of anxiety. The problem then for Israel is that on the one hand, given these anxieties peace is not a viable option; but going back to the routines of enmity is also not feasible because of the ontological insecurity it creates. Israel is therefore locked between what can be seen, following Rumelili (Chapter 1), as the axis between unstable conflict and

34  Amir Lupovici conflict in resolution. In this respect, Israel is trapped in a situation of ontological insecurity, and thus faces great difficulties in attaining a more relaxed position that either a ‘stable conflict’ or ‘peace’ could provide. I contend that Israel addresses this situation through a specific mechanism of avoidance – that is, by taking actions that create ambiguity (Lupovici 2012, p.818). Thus, on the one hand Israel works to maintain the conflict by preserving Hamas as the Palestinian enemy other and distinguishing it from the Fatah – with whom, on the other hand, Israel continues, to some extent, to practise conflict resolution. In this manner, preservation of the conflict with Hamas allows Israel to placate some anxieties, while engagement in more cooperative practices with Fatah appeases other anxieties. All in all, this creates ambiguities and uncertainty in the relationship with the Palestinians, in this way decreasing the dissonance. Identity-related explanations have attracted the attention of a relatively large number of scholars who have examined the failure of the Oslo Accords.1 However, I assert that the ontological security explanation suggested above elucidates more specifically how the threat to identities burdened the Israeli–Palestinian peace process. Furthermore, while Mitzen’s (2006) insights into the Israeli–Palestinian case have illustrated the utility of the concept of ontological security dilemma, further research is needed to trace precisely how ontological security needs hinder the advancement of the peace. Drawing attention to these issues does not mean that other factors have not influenced the collapse of the process, including those that concern the Palestinian side and Palestinian ontological security needs.2 However, as Rouhana (2008, p.270) notes, although both sides must deal with their own narratives – and their own ontological insecurity – the burden for Israel is heavier, and thus it is more important to focus on its ontological concerns in order to understand the failure of the Oslo process. Furthermore, given the limited space here and the need to elaborate on a number of issues to establish the ontological insecurity and ontological dissonance and their role in the collapse of the peace process, I focus on Israel – which, as the stronger side in the conflict, has more influence on advancing the peace process. While the failure of the Oslo Accords cannot be reduced to this explanation alone, acknowledging the anxieties unleashed by the peace process allows us to amalgamate different explanations. Furthermore, this theoretical framework clearly demonstrates that a peace process must address not only the actors’ physical security needs, but also their ontological ones. The chapter continues as follows. The first section elaborates on the connections between peace processes and ontological security, especially the effects of multiple identities and the clashes among them on these processes. In the second section, I briefly discuss the role of ontological insecurity in bringing Israel to the Oslo process. The third section employs the suggested theoretical framework to explore the collapse of the Oslo Accords mainly up to 2000 and the eruption of the Second Intifada, which I see as a continuing process rather than a specific event. Lastly, I discuss how Israel has attempted to address the ensuing anxieties.

The Israeli–Palestinian peace process   35

Ontological security and the peace process Ontological security concerns the security of the self, and thus it refers to security as being, rather than security as surviving (physical security). While originally this concept was developed in the context of individuals who aim to protect their ‘selves’, scholars have successfully employed it to explore societies or state actors.3 One of the promises of this concept concerns studying peace processes, mainly the difficulties of attaining a state of peace. Mitzen, for example, suggests that states can become trapped in an ontological security dilemma, where they are forced to choose between physical security or securing their enemy identity and the ensuing routines of the conflict.4 She claims that states ‘might actually come to prefer their ongoing, certain conflict to the unsettling condition of deep uncertainty as to the other’s and one’s own identity’ (Mitzen 2006, pp.342–343).5 Likewise, Kay aims to explain how peace may challenge actors’ ontological security. He asserts, ‘The desire to protect a “sense of self” can be the basis from which old conflicts become new’. Therefore, the ultimate attainment of peace requires the difficult process of identity change, and hence challenges the peace process (Kay 2012, pp.239, 243). More specifically, Rumelili suggests that in stable conflict, [p]arties contain their anxieties by establishing the Other as an object of fear, and a source of imminent threat to survival. Similarly, the systems of meaning which provide certitude solidify around the construction of the other as antiSelf, and as morally inferior. The reproduction of this narrative becomes embedded in various routines and habits, enters into practical consciousness and thus generates ontological security. (Rumelili Chapter 1, p. 22) Following Tillich (2010), Rumelili refers to three sources of anxiety: death, meaninglessness, and condemnation. Based on these mechanisms, she argues that situations of unstable conflicts, in which the interactions with the Other (the enemy) cannot produce certitude, evoke anxiety, which provides an opportunity for peace (Rumelili Chapter 1). However, a process of conflict resolution may also be threatening, as ‘removal of the object of fear unleashes the anxieties that were previously suppressed and generates ambiguities in systems of meaning and morality’ (ibid.). This situation, she asserts, provides opportunities for actors to restore certainty and to establish narratives and routines through processes of securitization: ‘for example by elevating minor outstanding aspects of peace agreements into existential insecurities and threats’ (ibid.). While current scholarship on ontological security provides a useful point of departure to think about how ontological insecurity evokes anxiety and negatively affects conflict resolution, it can be further extended. Indeed, as Mitzen suggests, the need to preserve the routines of enmity is an important factor burdening peace processes (Mitzen 2006). However actors’ selves cannot be reduced to this single (role) identity (see also Lupovici 2012).6 Likewise, Rumelili’s (Chapter 1)

36  Amir Lupovici discussion of the sources of anxiety can be further developed to acknowledge that an actor’s need to defend its various identities – and thus the different aspects of its self – evokes ontological insecurity and anxiety. In order to sharpen these arguments, I discuss two main issues: first, the ontologically insecure referent object, and second, the multiple identities constituting the self that can lead to ontological insecurity. Who is the self? Focusing on society as a referent object is a useful way to explore ontological (in)security. Croft (2012) suggests that focusing on the society level allows for a useful middle ground between studies that concentrate on the ontological security of individuals (e.g. Krolikowski 2008) and their extensions to the state level (e.g. Mitzen 2006; Steele 2008). As he asserts, ‘Rather than considering “merely” the state, international relations can connect with the ontological security literature by considering the issue at the level of the nation’ (Croft 2012, p.33). To this end, he relies on Benedict Anderson’s concept of imagined communities. He claims that this move allows us to explore the imagined community (e.g. Britishness) as an evolving institution that provides ontological security to individuals but at the same time constructs itself vis-à-vis others (Croft 2012, pp.37–38). Focusing on this referent object of ontological security aptly corresponds with the need to acknowledge the multiple identities of the self – and its various narratives. Multiple identities of the self and conflict resolution I argue that acknowledging that a society’s self comprises a number of identities is crucial to understanding the dynamics of conflict resolution. Indeed, on the one hand, as Rumelili asserts, the anxiety that is evoked when actors experience ontological insecurity of unstable conflicts may contribute to conflict resolution. This is because the anxiety creates destabilization that affects the cost of the conflict, and thus influences the conflict’s ripeness. As she notes, this may lead to de-securitization moves and a deconstruction of identities that reverse the establishment of the Other as an enemy (Rumelili Chapter 1). Conversely, in some cases the challenge is that the peace process, although it may indeed be the result of the anxiety of unstable conflict, may itself initiate an ontologically threatening dynamic (Rumelili Chapter 1). Not only can the peace process challenge the different identities an actor holds, but the measures required to address each of these threats might contradict each other or challenge other identities the actor holds, causing a clash among different cherished values of the self (i.e. society). More specifically, the idea of this clash is based on the view that ontological (in)security is experienced through self-narratives. Ontological insecurity results when an actor is unable to tell coherent stories about itself or experiences a gap between its self-narrative and its behaviour (see Steele 2008). Furthermore, in some cases, different threatened identities clash – thus leading to contradictory solutions for recovery from the incoherent narrative. In such circumstances, which

The Israeli–Palestinian peace process   37 I refer to as ontological dissonance, anxiety arises when actors must decide who they are – that is, they need to prioritize one identity over another (Lupovici 2012). The drive to remove this anxiety burdens the peace process, as the aim becomes addressing the ontological dissonance rather than the international conflict. In fact, in extreme cases ontological dissonance may lead to reconstruction of the enmity identities, returning to the certitude provided by the stable conflict. It must also be noted that actors can become trapped between these two idealtype situations. On the one hand, the burden of moving to peace is too heavy given the ensuing anxiety; on the other hand, reconstructing a stable conflict is impossible – again because of the anxiety actors experience in such a situation. The result at this point may be measures of avoidance. Avoidance can include a number of different kinds of mechanisms; however, the main characteristic is selective exposure to information – actors may restrict or ignore troubling information, look for supportive information, or even take actions that create ambiguity (Lupovici 2012, p.818). For example, with regard to the axis of unstable conflict–conflict in resolution in which actors are ontologically threatened (Rumelili Chapter 1), they may reconstruct reality in such way that allows them to experience elements of both peace and conflict: that is, maintaining the conflict and (continuously) working on the peace. Such a solution, however, may hinder the attainment of peace by frustrating the other side of the process and fuelling peace opponents and spoilers.

Ontological security and unstable conflict: reaching the Oslo Accords The Oslo Accords were signed by Yitzhak Rabin and Yasser Arafat in September 1993. The accords were not a peace agreement, but rather a Declaration of Principles on Interim Self-Government Arrangements. The agreements included mutual recognition between the sides, a framework for achieving a permanent agreement, Palestinian renunciation of violence, a gradual withdrawal of Israel from occupied territories, and the constitution of the Palestinian Authority. As Maoz explains, the most important aspect of the agreement was its cumulative and gradual logic, allowing the development of trust and creating a system of mutual dependence (Maoz 2006, pp.459–460; see also Adler 2002, p.5; Kacowicz 2005, p.346). The idea was to conditionally implement each stage of the agreement towards the final two-state solution (Barak 2005, p.719). While scholars debate over the reasons for the initiation of the Oslo process, Sasley emphasizes the puzzle concerning Israel’s willingness to enter this process in the early 1990s, directly after the end of the Cold War (Sasley 2010, pp.693–694). Following a number of scholars, I argue that threats to Israel identities burdened Israel’s ability to continue its former routines with the Palestinians and they challenged the Israeli self. While this explanation is not mutually exclusive,7 it has the advantage of considering a fundamental element that also addresses the collapse of the Oslo framework and the ensuing Israeli–Palestinian interactions. Since the late 1980s and early 1990s, the Israeli conflict with the Palestinians could not provide Israel with the ontological security it had provided before. In

38  Amir Lupovici Rumelili’s terms, the conflict shifted from a stable conflict to an unstable conflict. Barnett, for example, convincingly shows the effects of Israel’s identity crisis on the Oslo process. He asserts that the end of the Cold War, the acknowledgement of Arab countries of Israel’s right to exist, and the First Intifada all brought Israel to reconsider the risks that are related to peace and its relationships with the territories (Barnett 1999, pp.18–19). As Barnett explains, Israel faced an identity crisis that, as presented by Rabin, was about the tension of holding the territories on the one hand and being a Western, democratic and Jewish state on the other hand. Thus, holding the territories was seen to challenge each of these Israeli identities (Barnett 1999, p.23). In the face of this identity crisis, Rabin attempted to create a new Israeli identity in which the Jewish religion had only a marginal space. By prioritizing the liberal-democratic identity of the state over its Jewish identity, Rabin was situating Israel in the ‘West’s historical narrative of progress, development, democracy and modernity, and encouraging Israelis to reconsider the extent to which they were truly isolated in the International Community’ (Barnett 1999, p.21). In this respect, Israel’s democratic identity influenced its entrance into the Oslo process – despite debates over Israel’s specific democratic characteristics (Smooha 1997, pp.201–205; Gavison 1999, pp.44–47)8 and over the extent to which democratic values are institutionalized in Israel (and by whom in the population) (Barnett 1999, pp.11–12). In this respect, many Israelis support the democratic characteristics of the state and see democracy as ‘an asset’ (Yuchtman-Yaar & Peres 2000, p.16). While some parts of Israel (i.e. ‘Tel Aviv’) could even be characterized by humanist and liberal values, this liberal view is not in consensus (Adler 2002, p.13). For example, as found out in a number of surveys taken by the Israel Democratic Institute,9 Israel may be classified as a formal democracy rather than substantive democracy, although it being democratic is an important element of the state for many Israelis (Arian et al. 2006, p.44). In a similar way, Sucharov (2005, pp.138–156) connects these identity needs to what she terms Israel’s ‘defensive warrior’ identity. This identity was challenged by the manner in which Israel responded to the Lebanon War, which started in 1982, and to the Intifada, which started in 1987 (‘being a vicious aggressor’) (Sucharov 2005, p.135). In this respect, Israeli elite experienced a dissonance, and ‘[o]nly by seeking compromise with the Palestinians were Israelis able to address these unconscious counter narratives and realign their state’s policies with its role-identity’ (Sucharov 2005, p.4). To put it another way, these dynamics shifted the situation from an unstable conflict to a conflict in resolution through a de-securitization move (see also Coskun 2010, p.292).10 However, the point here, which I will further develop in the next section, is that this attempt to deconstruct Israel threatened a number of Israeli identities, aggravating ontological security and unleashing further anxieties, which burdened Israel’s ability to take the next step from conflict in resolution to peace. At the same time, because of the insecurities discussed above, Israel cannot return to a state of stable conflict. As a result, Israel is locked on the axis between unstable conflict and conflict in resolution.

The Israeli–Palestinian peace process   39

The collapse of the Oslo Accords and ontological (in)security Many studies have attempted to explain the failure so far of the peace process between the Israelis and the Palestinians, mainly with regard to the Oslo Accords. Among other things, they suggest that the failure stems from a number of factors, including the leaders (see in Barak 2005, p.723), the construction of the Accords (i.e. as a peace agreement, see Lupovici 2013, p.218), and the fact that the actors considered the conflict and its resolution in terms of an inter-state conflict, rather than an intergroup, conflict (Barak 2005, p.723; Kriesberg 2001, pp.388–389).11 More critical scholars, such as Grinberg, suggest that the failure stems from the balance of power between the sides, positing that the Oslo process reflected Israel’s superior power and its willingness to expand its territory (Grinberg 2007). In addition, a number of scholars have studied the influence of Israel’s Jewish identity on different stages of the peace process (Adler 2002; Barnett 1999; Bar-Tal 2007; Kimmerling 2001; Kacowicz 2005; Northrop 1989; Sucharov 2005; Waxman 2006). Mitzen (2006) has taken these ideas further, suggesting that the Israeli–Palestinian conflict is a clear manifestation of what she calls the ontological security dilemma, although her discussion of this case is very brief. I assert that the approach suggested here helps to elucidate the dynamics through which ontological insecurity has burdened the Israeli–Palestinian peace process. To this end, I focus on the Israeli-Jewish sense of self and examine how different elements of the peace process created ontological insecurity. I suggest that the initiation of the peace process sharpened the threat to various identities of Israeli- Jewish identity (i.e, the Jewish identity, and the righteous identity). These threats not only evoked ontological insecurity and anxiety, but also forced Israel to determine who it is, creating an ontological dissonance.

The Jewish identity The need to protect Israel’s Jewish identity significantly constrains policy on the relinquishment of territory, especially with regard to Jerusalem. Kimmerling argues that Jewish religious practices have become constitutive of the Israeli ethos, but in a traditionalist (historical nationalist) rather than a religious way (Dowty 2001, pp.3–4, 17; Kimmerling 2001, pp.82, 111, 113). For both Israelis and Palestinians, the land of Israel/Palestine is seen as the homeland, and thus relinquishing parts of it challenges the actors’ identity. As Northrop argues, Each side to the conflict in effect says, “in order to maintain our identity we must live on and possess the piece of land which represents ourselves, our religion, our meaning.” Loss of that land, or the threat of its loss [ … ] implies the loss of the self. (Northrop 1989, pp.68–69)

40  Amir Lupovici Therefore, ‘disengaging Israel from the Jewish peoplehood and its history is, for them, unthinkable’ (Liebman & Susser 1998, pp.19–20; see also Lupovici 2012, p.822). Although the concept of what the state of Israel is has shifted over the years (Shelef 2010), a large number of enunciators use the attachment to the land to block advancements in the peace process. These assertions not only demonstrate how difficult it is to relinquish the homeland, but they also reproduce attachment to these territories, complicating future compromises. Indeed, the results of the 1996 elections in Israel, in which the right gained power, signified a backlash against the Oslo process. This mobilization of religious and national groups against Oslo was enhanced by the ‘growing nationalist sentiments’ (Barnett 1999, p.27). Closely related to this is the need for a peace process to address the question of Jerusalem. Attachment to Jerusalem is a key aspect of the Jewish identity and thus affects the Israeli–Palestinian conflict (Barak 2005, p.728). Not only is it a collective symbol – significant, for example, for the Diaspora – but up to now it has been a prominent aspect of Jewish practices. For example, in Jewish marriage ceremonies, the groom declares that he will not forget Jerusalem and breaks a glass, symbolizing the destruction of the city in old times. At the state level, Israel has declared Jerusalem its capital, although most of the countries do not recognize it, and question Israel’s sovereignty. In fact, this recognition itself has become an issue of the Israeli–Palestinian peace process (Amirav 2009, pp.48–49, 156). However, the main question here is where and what Jerusalem is, that is what territories are considered to be a part of the city. Amirav clearly shows that as a result of political pressure, the municipality of Jerusalem expanded dramatically after 1967 to include additional territories that had never been part of historical Jerusalem (Amirav 2009, pp.59–81). These territories were constructed as part of Jerusalem in order to make any concession in Jerusalem almost impossible, as it would be seen to challenge the Jewish identity and its attachment to these places. Defending Jerusalem thus became an issue to be secured. For example, in 1996, after the assassination of Prime Minster Rabin, Netanyahu defeated Shimon Peres, the acting prime minster, against all odds. Netanyahu’s slogan, ‘Peres will divide Jerusalem’, emphasized that the ‘unity of Jerusalem is not considered as a strategic territorial question, but as a broad question representing the basic nature of Judaism and Zionism’ (Goldberg 1997, p.57).12 While this position was not the only reason for Netanyahu’s victory, it was effective in generating electoral success to the more hawkish leader.13 For many Israelis Jews, then, relinquishing parts of the ‘homeland’, and especially parts of Jerusalem, is a source of ontological insecurity, as for them it questions the meaning of being a Jewish state.14 In other words, it evokes anxiety over a core element of the Jewishness of the country, and thus of the Israeliness that is determined, defined, and justified in terms of being a Jewish state. Handing over parts of Jerusalem, or even talking about it, creates a gap in Israeli-Jewish narratives between the importance of Jerusalem and Israeli behaviour.

The Israeli–Palestinian peace process   41 Israel as a righteous actor and the ‘right of return’ The Palestinians’ refugee issue ‘was liable to evoke the conflicting narratives of the 1948 War and the needs of the Palestinians in the diaspora’ (Barak 2005, p.728). In this respect, the ‘right of return’ means that Israel needs to accept the Other (Palestinian) narrative, which challenges its own narrative of the events of 1948 and the reasons for what is termed the ‘refugee problem’.15 Although there is no consensus on what the right of return should mean in practice or how many Palestinians will in fact have the ‘right of return’,16 the question nonetheless carries symbolic implications and it challenges Israel’s identity as a just actor and may evoke anxiety of condemnation (see Tillich 2000, pp. 51–4; and Rumelili Chapter 1). As Peters (2011, p. 22) argues, Palestinians’ demands for the right of return and calls for compensation are seen by Israel as challenges to its legitimacy and to the moral foundation of the Jewish state. Confronting these issues forces an uncomfortable reexamination of historical narratives, collective identity, and constituting myths, and touches on questions of Israeli culpability and responsibility for the refugee problem. Indeed, a vast majority of Israelis reject the idea of the right of return (Peters 2011, p.23) and a great number of Israeli officials across the political spectrum have referred to the existential threat that would come from accepting it (Bar-SimanTov 2010; Kelman 2001, p.204). For example, in 1994, only 14 per cent of Israeli Jews supported even negotiating over the ‘right of return’ (Arian 1995, p.109) – evidence that these views are not only affiliated with the right wing. Amos Oz, for example, one of Israel’s most important authors and a prominent supporter of the ‘two state solutions’, asserted, ‘Implementing the Palestinian “right of return” amounts to abolishing the Jewish people’s right to self-determination … It would mean eradicating Israel’ (Oz 2001). The ‘right of return’ creates two main challenges for the Israeli (Jewish) self. First it threatens the continuation of the Jewish state as a state of the Jewish people, presented in this way as a demographic threat. ‘The right of return’ is therefore securitized: enunciators and the Israeli (Jewish) public accept that this right is an existential threat to Israel, and as such it is seen as a threat to the meaning and being of the Jewish self. In other words, this is not a threat to Israel’s survival, but an ontological threat. In fact, it could be suggested that Israel would be more physically secure with the implementation of the right of return – not only because it would promote peace, but also because it may seem less legitimate, for example, for Iran or Hizbullah to attack such a bi-national state. Second, the right of return challenges a crucial part of the Israeli self – what the prophet Isaiah called to be a light unto the nations. Following ‘Cultural Zionism’, not only the Jewish people but also Israel as a state should carry forward the ethical mission of serving humanity and acting as a normative guide (Tessler 2009, p.50). From this perspective, the need to re-examine Israel’s past and the sources of the refugee problem becomes a challenge. Reaching peace – or, as some scholars suggest, achieving ‘real peace’

42  Amir Lupovici that includes reconciliation (Rouhana 2004; Barak 2005) – challenges the Israeli self and therefore hinders the process of conflict resolution. Since Palestinians seek not only peace but also justice (Adler 2002, p.10), Palestinian leaders cannot concede the right of return, which would mean political suicide for them. On the other hand, for Israel to acknowledge its contribution to the refugee problem is to challenge its self-narrative. This situation generates and maintains a zero sum-game and a prolongation of the conflict. It is precisely because of this that the Oslo architects left this issue to the final stages: to allow the two sides to build trust before dealing with this delicate issue (Pundak 2001). These two implications stemming from Israeli acceptance of the ‘right of return’ both disrupt the coherence of the Israeli-Jewish self-narrative. The first challenges the narrative of the Jewish state, similar to the effects of relinquishing parts of the ‘homeland’, discussed above. In this respect, the securitization of the Israeli identity and constructing its exclusive characteristics become a challenge to the peace process.17 On a theoretical level, the deconstruction of the Israeli identity would allow more inclusiveness; however, changing this identity is precisely where the ontological threat lies. The second implication outlined above opens a gap between the self-righteous Jewish identity and Israel´s behaviour in the past. Accepting the right of return unleashes anxiety because it challenges the definition of the self as a morally superior actor. Furthermore, for the right wing, being a morally superior entity is one of the justifications for defending the ‘ancient borders and in setting their patrimony’ (Weissbrod 2002, p.113). In both cases, then, the need to avoid ontological insecurity contributes to burdening the peace.

Between unstable conflict and conflict in resolution One of Israel’s challenges is that it is facing ontological dissonance. There is a clash as various Israeli identities require dissimilar and even contradictory policies, forcing Israel to determine who it is and thus creating another source of anxiety over the meaning of the Israeli self. Moving towards peace puts more pressure on the Jewish identity, while not going to peace puts more pressure on the democratic Israeli identity. The decision over what Israel is – a Jewish state or a democratic state – may unleash anxiety. To use Rumelili’s terms, in the case of Israel’s Jewishness, the anxiety stems from a challenge to the meaning of the Israeli self; in the case of its democratic identity, anxiety stems from a challenge that concerns the meaning of the Israeli self but over the longer term, and as international pressure of external actors (e.g., the EU and the US) may increase (as some estimate will happen [Ravid 2013]), an additional source of anxiety may erupt – that is, condemnation. In fact, the sense of anxiety may increase since Israel’s main narrative is that of being both a Jewish and democratic state (Smooha 1997).18 Therefore, the very need to choose between these two dimensions of the Israeli self is a source of anxiety. The result of this tension, which has clear political manifestations,19 is that Israel is trapped between the positions of unstable conflict and conflict in resolution. Both of these situations evoke ontological insecurity. The problem, however, is that

The Israeli–Palestinian peace process   43 because the ontological insecurity is evoked by each of these solutions, Israel cannot reach a more relaxed position. Returning to a stable conflict with the Palestinians is difficult from the perspective of a democratic Israel. To some extent, for some Israelis (but not all) this identity creates a challenge that stems from a gap between Israel’s democratic values on the one hand and its policies regarding the occupation of the territories on the other. For example, Ami Ayalon, former head of the Shin Bet, declared, ‘We are taking sure steady steps to a place where the State of Israel will no longer be a democracy’. Even Prime Minister Sharon started to talk about the ‘corrupting effects of the occupation’ (Sucharov 2005, p.164; Tessler 2009, p.836, see also Lupovici 2012, p.824). On the other hand, attaining peace evokes ontological insecurity and anxiety, which opponents of the peace process easily take advantage of. They accuse the government of relinquishing parts of the homeland, allegedly challenging the Jewishness of the country. The most extreme manifestation of this mood was the assassination of Prime Minister Rabin (Ranstorp 1996). In fact, the dissonance created by these identities – Israel’s position between conflict in resolution and unstable peace – is evident in the case of unity among Israeli Jews. The unity of the people is a crucial element of the Israeli self, affected by the ‘melting pot’ which had been the aim of the state of Israel (Yadgar 2011, pp.152, 161). For years, the Israeli–Palestinian conflict allowed Israel to downplay social cleavages and different identities within Israeli (Jewish) society. Cleavages based on class, ethnicity, and religious (i.e. secular vs. orthodox), and political affiliation was blurred in face of the ‘common enemies: the Arabs’ (Grinberg 2007, p.48). As Adler suggests in more general terms, there is a clash between two key Israeli identities: liberal-secular and the nationalist-religious (Adler 2002, p.13).20 The Oslo process brought to centre stage the difficulties Israeli politics faced in confronting internal conflicts among the Jewish groups. It created a sense of ‘national collapse’, evoked a deep sense of anxiety following the fragmentation of the common Jewish identity, and led to sectorial hostility. The Second Intifada allowed for a solution to these threats. ‘Revealing’ that there is ‘no partner’ became a uniting myth for the Israelis (Grinberg 2007, pp.242–243, 354; see also Barnett 1999, p.27). In other words, it provided to some extent a context through which the conflict with the Palestinians was re-securitized, bringing the situation closer again to what Rumelili refers to as a stable conflict.21 As Ben-Eliezer explains, the neo-liberal era saw the eruption of new disagreements, without which the recent Israeli wars cannot be understood. Because the Oslo Accords suggested a historical solution between the Israelis and the Palestinians, they created a conflict within Israeli society that was pushed aside with the Second Intifada (Ben-Eliezer 2012, p.424).22 As Adler argues, the Oslo peace process failed because ‘you cannot make peace with “the other” when you do not know, or you have a deep conflict about, who you are’ (Adler 2002, p.12). The point is that the perception that ‘we should be united’, serves as a strong tool for peace opponents to burden achieving it. It is therefore, that the problem was not just that the division in society created a political stalemate in Israel, or confused the Palestinians as Adler (2002, p.13) suggests. Rather, a main challenge in this respect is that opponents of the peace process could easily frame it as both

44  Amir Lupovici a physical and an ontological threat, claiming that ‘this peace is killing us’ (see in Oz 1998, p.145). As Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau, formerly the Chief Rabbi of Israel, asserted, ‘Before speaking about peace and understanding with our neighbours, the Arabs, we have to speak and to act about accomplishing peace and real understanding and brotherhood within ourselves’ (Arutz Sheva 2011). This is, of course, a powerful tool to prevent the peace process, although logically, given the support for the Oslo process, at least in its first months, one could argue that it was the spoilers who caused division in society. The emphasis here, however, is not on the unity of Israel, but rather on Israel’s need to determine its own identity. The peace process that began in Oslo no longer allows the (mis)presentation of Israeli unity but rather challenges it, requiring Israel to determine who it is. Dealing with ontological dissonance I argue that the solution Israel has adopted to address ontological insecurity and anxiety is to re-distinguish between Hamas and Fatah,23 although some argue that the differences between these two groups with regard to their interactions with Israel are not that significant (Sela & Mishal 2006; Waxman 2007, p.40). Hamas continues to serve Israel as an Other, through which it can validate its identity of enemy (e.g., in Sela & Mishal 2006, vii) without challenging its democratic and Jewish identities. Furthermore, as long as Hamas continues to be securitized as Israel’s enemy – and remains in conflict with Fatah – there can be no comprehensive peace agreements between the Israelis and the Palestinians (Bronner 2009; Levy 2009; Merenda 2009). This allows Israel to preserve the conflict and avoid ontological insecurity, while protecting some of its other identities. At the same time, talks with the Fatah take place occasionally (Zittrain & Caplan 2012), addressing the concerns of Israel’s democratic (liberal) identity. By dragging out the negotiations over years, Israel can think of itself as striving towards peace while never achieving it, as going any further towards peace would unleash the anxieties noted above. In fact, even during its peace process with Fatah, Israel continues to work on securing its ontological concerns. This is demonstrated, for example, in the Israeli response to the Palestinian demand to acknowledge the right of return, when Israeli officials demanded that the Palestinians recognize Israel as a Jewish state.24 Prime Minster Netanyahu declared in September 2010 that any peace agreement with the Palestinians should include the recognition of the State of Israel as the nation-state of the Jewish people. We are being asked to recognize the Palestinian state, and it is worthy and natural that we demand that the other party recognize the Jewish state as the state of the people of Israel. The deep understanding and the belief in our right to live here in this land, our homeland, the land of our forefathers, is vital to our dealing with the challenges of the upcoming year, with the challenges of the upcoming decade, with the challenges of the future in general. (Netanyahu 9.7.2010)

The Israeli–Palestinian peace process   45 As Tal-Landman (2010, p.143) asserts, this cannot be seen as simply a tactic to sabotage the peace process or, as Netanyahu himself asserts, a way to address demographic concerns about the right of return and the status of the Israeli– Palestinians. Rather, it also serves a strategic objective in and of itself, recognition for the sake of recognition. From this perspective, the demand for Palestinian recognition of the national character of Israel stems from the desire to create an essential change in the main issues on the table of the permanent status negotiations, and out of ideological reasons, add a layer of negotiation about the historic narrative of the conflict to the existing agenda. (Tal-Landman 2010, p.148, italics in original text) As Tal-Landman (2010, p.150) further explains, this demand conveys the message to the Israeli public and the Palestinians that even in a peace process Israel will not concede its fundamental values. However, the demand may preclude the peace process, posing a threat to the Palestinians. As senior Haaretz correspondent Ekiva Eldar notes, Netanyahu knows full well that any Palestinian leader who recognizes Israel as the nation-state of the Jewish people also acknowledges that the Palestinians do not have any rightful place there. In other words, it is tantamount to an up-front concession on the right of return. (Eldar 2010) My main point, however, is that taking these measures – distinguishing between Hamas and Fatah25 – allows Israel to create ambiguities about the Palestinian Other, and thus it is used as a mechanism of avoidance. By creating uncertainties regarding the Other, the peace process, and the ability to achieve it, Israel limits its need to face ontological dissonance. Thus, having Hamas as an enemy decreases the anxieties the conflict in resolution poses. At the same time, the conflict in resolution dynamics with Fatah decreases the anxieties attached to the unstable conflict and the threats to Israel liberal-democratic identity. These ambiguities allow Israelis to avoid asking, and more importantly answering, the questions of who they are and what direction they are going – questions that both unstable conflict and conflict in resolution positions force them to address.

Conclusions In this chapter I demonstrated a number of mechanisms through which ontological insecurity and the ensuing anxieties burden the peace process. I showed how ontological security concerns hinder resolution of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict, as this dynamic not only challenges different Israeli identities, creating a gap between the required behaviour and the Israeli narrative, but also creates a dissonance among Israeli identities.

46  Amir Lupovici It should be noted that ontological insecurity does not in itself burden peace processes and unleash anxieties. Rather, as seen above regarding, for example, the Israeli need for unity, it becomes a strong weapon in the hands of opponents of the process. They cannot only rely on the physical insecurities a peace process may create, but also take advantage and manipulate the threat of ontological insecurity. However, the fact that ontological insecurity rests in the hands of agents, who can frame and construct situations in different ways, also means that ontological security needs should not be seen a priori as a decisive burden to peace. The challenge of peace supporters therefore is to de-securitize a number of ontological threats, reassuring the various identities of actors. Scholars argue that since securitization moves help to preserve conflicts, de-securitization moves allow the identity change that is crucial for peace (Rumelili Chapter 1; Wæver 2009, pp.25, 27). If various identities exist that are attached to a conflict, then efforts need to be taken to de-securitize each of them.

Notes 1 See Northrop (1989); Barnett (1999); Kimmerling (2001); Adler (2002); Barak (2005); Sucharov (2005); Waxman (2006); Bar-Tal (2007); Grinberg (2007). 2 This includes various Palestinians’ ontological needs that stem from different Palestinian identities, such as those of the Israeli–Palestinians (the Israeli Arabs) and those of the Palestinian diaspora. 3 See Giddens (1991, pp.35–69); Huysmans (1998, pp.242–244); Wendt (1999, p.131); Rumelili (2004); Rumelili (forthcoming); Mitzen (2006); Steele (2005); Steele (2008); Browning and Joenniemi (2010); Zarakol (2010); Croft (2012); Lupovici (2012). 4 As Wæver (2009, p.25) suggests, protracted conflicts become a ‘form of life’ that is sustained through the actors’ conflictual identities. 5 For a similar argument, see Huysmans (1998, pp. 239–240). 6 For further discussion of how multiple identities affect ontological security and peace processes, see Loizides’ chapter on Cyprus, this volume. 7 Barnett, for example, who puts forward an identity-based explanation, also incorporates an institutional account that is based on acknowledging that ‘actors strategize in an institutional setting’ (Barnett 1999, p. 6). 8 For these reasons, Smooha (1997), for example, suggests viewing Israel as an ethnic democracy. According to this view, the Israeli democracy constitutes identity in that both democratic procedures and the Jewishness of the state are institutionalized and cannot be isolated from each other. 9 See http://en.idi.org.il/ 10 While the Oslo process can be understood as part of a de-securitization move, it should be noted that other frames and constructions were also in play, including securitization moves, justifying the peace process through its contribution to Israel’s security. For example, even the Peace Now movement, ‘the largest and most institutionalized segment of the Israeli Peace movement’, used the slogan ‘Peace is my Security’ as a banner in a demonstration in 1993 in support of the Oslo Accords (Sharoni 1996, p.116). Among other things, this is the result of the prominence of the discourse and practices of (in)security in Israel (Bar-Tal 2007, p. 272, passim; Gavriely-Nuri‫ ‏‬2013; Lupovici forthcoming). 11 For further discussion of the Oslo failure, see Rynhold 2008; Rothstein et al., (2004). 12 For example, in a television advertisement for the 1996 election campaign produced for the Likud Party headed by Netanyahu, Ehud Olmert, then-mayor of Jerusalem,

The Israeli–Palestinian peace process   47

13

14 15

16

17

18 19

20 21 22 23 24

25

declared, ‘Peres will divide Jerusalem’, followed by images of Peres hand-in-hand with Arafat and the sound of breaking glasses. See at: http://news.nana10.co.il/ Article/?ArticleID=601579 Browning and Joenniemi in this volume demonstrate how over time the Karelia region which was seen as part of the Finnish homeland, was de-securitised through silencing and fading, and thus it ‘increasingly appears to be less of a holy territory’. Likewise, the securitization of Jerusalem is of course also not a deterministic, but rather a social process. See also Rumelili (Chapter 1, this volume) on the anxiety of meaninglessness. According to the Israeli narrative, the behaviour of Arab states is the main reason for the refugee problem. These states, which did not accept the creation of Israel, launched an attack on Israel, called the Palestinians to leave their homes, and then perpetuated the problem and manipulated the refugees for political goals (Peters 2011, p. 22; Rouhana 2008, p. 268). In contrast, the Palestinian narrative emphasizes that the refugee problem is a direct result of what they call the Nakba, the catastrophe that resulted from the establishment of the state of Israel (Adler 2002, p.9). Part of Israel’s challenge in accepting the right of return concerns the question of who is a Palestinian refugee. Unlike United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East (UNRWA) count of the total number of Palestinian refugees includes not only the first generation, but also their descendants, see Hassassian, 2001, p.70. In fact, this goes even deeper, as the Jewishness of the Israeli identity is based on very strict rules of who is Jewish, rules that are based on Orthodox strands. In contrast, definitions of who is a Jew based on progressive/liberal strands of Judaism do not have much influence in Israel (e.g., in conversion to Judaism in Israel, marriage, etc.) (Dowty 2001, p.161). For further discussion of the Israeli democratic identity, see above p. 35 It should be noted that all Zionist parties incorporate aspects of both the Jewish identity and the democratic identity, where right-wing parties put more emphasis on the Jewish identity and leftist parties put more emphasis on the liberal-democratic identity. Furthermore, in between, the more central parties put emphasis on the need for taking as equal and combining the Jewishness and the democracy of the state, although provide different interpretations of the meaning of such a combination. As noted above, the peace process is not a threat to the liberal-secular identity. In fact, achieving peace is one way to address the ontological needs of this group in Israeli society. It should, however, be noted that the pressure that resulted from the Israeli democratic identity has not vanished, thus prolonging Israel’s ontological dissonance. On the conflict between the secular-liberal identity and the orthodox-right identity during and after the Oslo Process, see Ben-Eliezer 2012, pp. 76–106. It should be noted that identity-related explanations account not only for the distinction between Fatah and Hamas, but also for Hamas activities (Berti 2013). Another Israeli demand, though not new, is to recognize the rights of the Jewish emigrants who needed to leave their residence and property in Arab countries following Israel’s declaration of independence. Israeli negotiators seek acknowledgement of their status as refugees and to compensate them as part of a peace agreement (Fischbach‫ ‏‬2006, pp. 93–96, passim). The fragmentation of a group in a peace process, creating other selves, is further discussed in Mitchell’s chapter in this volume. She demonstrates how this dynamic affected physical violence in Northern Ireland and complicated the interactions as it multiplied the number of others each actor needed to deal with.

48  Amir Lupovici

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3 The Kurdish issue and levels of ontological security Ayşe Betül Çelik

Introduction Ontological security, that is, the certainty which stems from having a consistent sense of self that is recognized by others (Zarakol 2010), is relationally constructed and linked to the overall sense of security, that ‘feeds on basic trust’ (2010, p.6). While basic trust between the parties is a requirement for establishment of a peaceful relationship in long-lasting conflicts, asymmetric ontological (in)security felt by conflicting groups can prevent them from engaging in a dialogue with each other. This is true especially in asymmetric relations such as in ethnic conflicts, where one party does not recognize the legitimacy of another party. When the dominant group feels like its physical security is challenged by the violence perpetrated by some representatives of the minority group, it tends to reject dialogue with the members of that group, generalizing that threat to all group members. Creating a vicious cycle by non-recognition of the minority group by the dominant group, followed by violence perpetuated by some members of the former, and later by physical insecurity felt by the latter; resulting in ontological insecurity of both, this process can go on for years if there is no intervention. Therefore, basic trust and sense of security especially for the dominant group and the state need to be challenged in order to move the dominant actors to recognize the ‘Other’ and start empathizing with it; a prerequisite for long-lasting peace processes. However, such intervention may also lead to anger among the dominant group members if it does lead to new venues of relation construction. In this new phase, there is a need for the insecuritized self to be brought in touch with the Other to be able to build a new relationship around recognition and trust, and establishing a new meaning system to continue this relationship. This chapter will discuss the different phases in the Kurdish Issue with a specific focus on the recent peace attempts, their outcomes for the short and long term, and the extent that these attempts were able to satisfy the above mentioned requirements by creating peace anxieties. The Kurdish Issue, different from many examples of inter-state conflicts and conflicts between mutually recognized actors, is an internal conflict in which the state as a dominant actor does not recognize the identity and legitimacy of the other party. According to the framework of

The Kurdish issue   53 Rumelili, it is an unstable conflict, where parties feel different levels of physical and ontological (in)securities due to the nature of this asymmetric relationship. In contrast to what is commonly believed, the Kurdish Issue is not a problem that exists only between the Turkish state, and the PKK (Partiya Karkerên Kurdistan – Kurdistan Workers’ Party) and its sympathizers. It involves multiple issues and actors.1 What we hear from the Turkish and Kurdish political discourses is mostly the exchanges between the leaders of the two sides, that is, only the possibility of negotiations between the Turkish state and the PKK, or addressing the issue through structural reforms. However, we need to take into consideration the perceptions of the ordinary people towards different socio-political actors, and inter-group relations to understand these complex, dynamic and interrelated issues and products of interrelated political and social processes as well as the macro-level initiatives. In this chapter, I will argue that the peace processes concerning the Kurdish Issue in Turkey since 2009 need to move Turks to a state of anxiety at various levels and require reconsideration of state security to be successful. Although this might sound contradictory, it is necessary to reconsider different relations between different actors at various levels to open up new and healthier relations to be established in the long term. Ideally, the prospect of peace needs to challenge the fears, deprivations and isolation of groups by bringing them together, but the very process of a such possibility can create a sense of anxiety (Rumelili Chapter 1) since individuals, groups and the state need to question their previous understanding of the ‘Other’ and open themselves up for new definitions and group relations. This process requires changing the narratives of, feelings towards, and understanding of the ‘Other’ in order to act more peacefully. However, for a long-lasting and stable peace, these anxieties also need to be channelled constructively to bring ontological insecurities to a feeling of ontological security in the long run. While the failure of the first attempt for peace in Turkey between 2009 and 2010 can be explained by the inability of bringing Turks to a stage of ontological insecurity, and fuelling their confirmed fears, the susceptibility of the second stage of the peace process in 2013 is that effective strategies to bring parties to a stage of ontological security have not yet been designed nor even thought of. In what follows, I will, first, briefly talk about the Kurdish Issue historically and the Kurdish Opening in 2009 specifically, followed by a discussion of how the Opening furthered Turks’ fears rather than their anxieties to move them to a state of ontological insecurity. Later, possible outcomes and impediments to the second peace attempt in 2013 will be discussed. Lastly, I will discuss the possible ways to deal with various issues in the conflict by different conflict resolution methods, which can address the different identity and security needs of the parties.

The Kurdish Opening in the history of the Kurdish Issue as a turning point The Kurdish Issue, as a historical ethnic conflict, has gone through various stages since the Ottoman Empire’s last decades and in the period of transition to nation-

54  Ayşe Betül Çelik state. However, the way we talk about it today has taken a new turn with the emergence of the PKK as an armed actor vis-à-vis the Turkish state in 1984. As will be discussed later in the chapter, although there were some improvements in the situation of Kurds in Turkey over the years, the official historical position of the Turkish state has always been to consider the PKK as a terrorist organization, thus, refusing to officially negotiate with it. The Turkish state’s ontological existence is, in fact, historically built on the belief that Kurdish nationalism challenges the unity of the state and that there are ‘external Others’ out there who are always trying to divide the country. Although the conflict can be described as largely taking place between the PKK and the Turkish security forces, it can be analysed at three levels: 1

2

3

At one level the conflict is between the Turkish state and an ethnic minority (Kurds), especially on the issue of cultural and political rights. These disputted rights include mother-tongue education, forming political parties representing Kurds, using Kurdish in election propaganda, having some sort of autonomy in the southeastern part of the country. At another level, the conflict is between the Turkish state and an insurgent group, the PKK. At this level, issues are mostly about disarmament, demobilisation and reintegration and how to confront the past mistakes undertaken by the PKK and state security forces, including the military, gendarmerie and village guards. And lastly, at another level, there is a conflict in the form of social tension between Turks and Kurds throughout Turkey, especially in the bigger cities in western Turkey which received high numbers of internally displaced Kurds. (Çelik & Blum 2007)

Since the emergence of the PKK as an important actor, the Kurdish Issue has gone through various stages, where Kurds and Turks experienced various levels of physical and ontological (in)securities. In the following sections, let us examine these at each stage of the conflict and peace process (see Table 3.1). Phase I (Escalation 1984–1999): When the PKK took up arms against the Turkish state in 1984 to carve out an independent Kurdistan in the southeastern part of the country, an armed conflict which was to last more than 30 years started. The most violent clashes between the Turkish security forces and the PKK took place in the rural parts of eastern and southeastern Anatolia in the 1990s resulting in killings and various forms of human rights abuses such as torture, village evacuation and forced migration. Most Turks in the 1990s did not know much about what Kurds were going through in the eastern parts of the country. Since 1984, the general state approach to resolve the conflict has been to increase state security by fighting the PKK by rigid military measures. For this reason, in 1987 it imposed a state of emergency (OHAL – Olağanüstü Hal) in several cities of eastern and southeastern Anatolia where Kurds are highly concentrated. Mayors of the OHAL region enjoyed extraordinary measures and restricted many Kurdish citizens’ rights. During this period, many human

The Kurdish issue   55 Table 3.1 Summary of physical and ontological securities of the groups Phase of conflict

Turks

Kurds

Phase 1 (1984–1999)

Both physically and ontologically secure

Experience high levels of physical and ontological insecurity

Phase 2 (1999–2005)

Have physical and ontological security

Have physical security and ontological insecurity

Phase 3 (2005–2009)

Have ontological security and physical insecurity

Have physical and ontological insecurity

Phase 4 (2009–2011)

Have physical security; emergence of ontological insecurity

Have physical security; emergence of ontological security

Phase 5 (2011–2012)

Re-gaining of ontological security; experience of low levels of physical insecurity

Have low levels of ontological security; experience low levels of physical insecurity

Phase 6 (2013–?)

Have physical and ontological security

Have physical and low levels of ontological security (peace anxiety)

rights abuses, extrajudicial killings, forced disappearances and evacuations of villages were undertaken by the military forces, the gendarmerie, village guards and the PKK (Kurban et al. 2007; Çelik 2010). While until the mid-1990s Turks felt physically and ontologically secure, Kurds, especially those residing in the southeastern parts of the country, on the other hand, had high levels of both physical and ontological insecurities resulting from being exposed to the violence between the PKK and the state and lacking most of their citizenship rights. Phase 2 (De-escalation 1999–2005): Besides taking extrajudicial measures in the Kurdish region, one of the Turkish state’s tactics of fighting against the PKK was forcing the countries that support the PKK to cut off their aid. Such measures resulted in the capture of the PKK leader, Abdullah Öcalan, in 1999 after Syria, who supported the PKK as a bargaining chip against the Turkish state, forced Öcalan to leave the country as soon as it secured an agreement on the usage of water basins. The years between 1999 and 2004 can be labelled as ‘de-escalation of conflict’ and ‘reform years’ since there was a unilateral ceasefire declared by the PKK after Öcalan’s capture, and the Turkish state passed laws liberating certain spheres to allow greater representation of the Kurdish culture. As part of harmonizing its laws with the European norms in the accession process to the European Union (EU) after the acceptance of Turkish candidacy by the EU, the Grand National Assembly of Turkey allowed broadcasting in other languages besides Turkish, eased restrictions on these languages (especially Kurdish), abolished the death penalty, and signed international treaties protecting the economic, social, cultural, and political rights of its citizens (see Çelik 2005 for a detailed analysis of legal changes). Because of the unilateral ceasefire of the PKK and relative calm due

56  Ayşe Betül Çelik to the reforms necessitated by the EU candidacy, Kurds as well as Turks felt physically secure in this phase. However, the reforms did not secure the important cultural and political demands of the Kurds, such as teaching in Kurdish, some sort of local autonomy and addressing past injustices. Moreover, there was no attempt to address the increasing social polarization between Kurds and Turks. Thus, many Kurds still felt ontologically insecure while Turks continued to enjoy ontological security. Phase 3 (Re-escalation 2005–2009): Since many demands of the Kurdish population have not been met, beginning in 2005, there was a slow, yet continuous increase in the PKK-Turkish state armed confrontation. The measures taken by the state did not directly address the sources of the conflict although there were substantial steps to enhance Kurds’ physical security, such as the removal of state of emergency. Moreover such events like burning of the Turkish flag by Kurdish protesters in a Western city in 2005 and bombings of non-military sites in Ankara and Izmir by the PKK in 2007 (Çelik & Blum 2007) started to threaten the physical securities of Turks in western Turkey for the first time. At another level, Turkish fears were also triggered by the establishment of a federal Iraqi Kurdish autonomous region in Northern Iraq in 2005. This political event increased Turkish fears that such could also happen in the borders of the Turkish Republic. On the other hand, the Turkish state’s resorting again to military measures to fight against the PKK, violent uprisings following the funerals of several PKK members in Diyarbakır and increased clashes between the PKK and the Turkish army in 2006, and escalating levels of everyday violence against Kurds in Western metropolises amplified levels of physical insecurity among Kurds. Unfortunately, during this phase, Kurds’ ontological insecurities were not diminished, either. Phase 4 (The Kurdish Opening 2009–2011): 2009 marks an important turning point in this sense. The AKP government’s then-Minister of the Interior, Beşir Atalay, in July 2009, initiated what is known as the ‘Kurdish Opening’, to address the Kurdish Issue.2 When the initiative was originally proposed, it was thought to include greater cultural rights for Kurds (excluding teaching in Kurdish), some form of local autonomy, and incentives to demobilize and reintegrate the PKK fighters into society. However, the project ended by only providing a Kurdish channel in the state-owned TV broadcasting network, changes in laws dealing with rehabilitating minors involved in ‘terrorist acts’ and allowing the use of Kurdish in prisons. In the positive environment created by the declaration of the Kurdish Opening, several civil society organizations started holding workshops between the prominent Kurdish and Turkish activists, academics, journalists, etc. However, what has mostly been experienced in dialogue groups was the denial that Kurds and Turks have a ‘problem’ with each other. Most dialogue participants argued that Kurds and Turks do share a common past and want to ‘live together’.3 The scope of most of these workshops was what should be done to resolve the conflict, and most of them focused on reform suggestions. In some minor cases, such as the one led by Vamık Volkan under Ekopolitik, there were moments where Kurds and Turks exchanged their fears and worries vis-à-vis each other. However,

The Kurdish issue   57 these workshops did not last as the positive political environment withered away quickly. Yet, it is important to note some of the psychological issues that were discussed, which relate to the concept of ontological security/insecurity. In one of these workshops, for example, a Kurdish participant argued that peace could only come if we overcame: the problems of not addressing Kurds’ dignity and Turks’ fears; that is, the fear of being divided. How can you overcome this by not conversing with us, visiting us, meeting and discussing with people in Hakkari (a Kurdish city in the far south-eastern tip of Turkey, known by its violent protest by the Turkish public)? … What do these people want? … First, you need to call Kurds, Kurds. That is, you need to recognize their essential linguistic rights. Without linguistic rights, without Kurds being able to use their language freely in all aspects of life, we will always have this problem. What shall we do to address the fears of Turks and protect the dignity of Kurds? We also need to get them out of the shadows of the arms and give them to the civic initiatives. (Ekopolitik 2009) In contrast, some Turkish participants expressed the righteousness of their fears, arguing that the Kurdish nationalist movement was a separatist one, however, trying to differentiate between the PKK and Kurdish citizens: This [resolving the conflict] is a matter of imagining the future … Everybody is willing to live together, I see this … Thus, there is no need to discuss the past … Earlier, a friend was asking where the fear of being divided was coming from. We need to understand these fears because we became a 180 km square [sic] country from a 10 million km square empire after being divided many times. If I see that my Kurdish friends have an understanding of nationalism beyond asking for cultural rights, such as an ethnic nationalism, it is right to have a fear of being divided … Then, Kurds need to clearly state that they want to live together regardless of any and every condition. After all the pains, their words expressing willingness for co-existence will solve a lot of problems. I see this [willingness] among many [Kurdish] friends here, but the issue is to express this outside as well. (Ekopolitik 2009) The above quotations point out several important aspect of the conflict that touch upon ontological and physical (in)security: 1) the issues problematized by the parties in asymmetrical relations are different; 2) the minority is more concerned about the acceptance of their existence as a group by the dominant party, whereas the dominant group is afraid of its territorial integrity to be challenged (thus, while one pays more attention to its ontological security, the other is more concerned with its physical security when its ontological security is safe); 3) both physical and ontological securities are relationally constructed; 4) peace can only be achieved by mutually acknowledging these insecurities and

58  Ayşe Betül Çelik working on overcoming them, especially through civic initiatives; 5) parties need structural interventions, such as linguistic/constitutional reforms (or negotiations between the leaders in order to shape these outcomes), but these can fall short if the dominant groups do not acknowledge the minorities as legitimate Other, and 6) even these would only partially address ontological security concerns. If and when Turkish fears would be addressed by some interventions, this could possibly challenge their ontological security. Peace processes induce a general anxiety, disrupting established habits and narratives (Rumelili Chapter 1). In Turkey, while there were discussions about the issues raised by Kurds, there were no societal processes to talk about the emerging inconsistency, ambiguity and dissonance in narratives about Kurds. For example, the majority of Turks had hard times accepting that they no longer should treat the PKK members as ‘terrorists’, and the fact that their ‘sacred’ Turkish state needs to talk to the ‘enemy’. A fertile environment to answer these questions was not provided by any actor during the first phase of the peace process. Phase 5 (Failure of the Opening 2011–2013): Following the general elections in June 2011, a sound recording was leaked over the Internet, revealing to the public that the PKK and the then-deputy undersecretary of the Prime Ministry, Hakan Fidan (who later became the head of the National Intelligence Organization), the deputy undersecretary of the National Intelligence Organization Afet Güneş, and three members of the European wing of the PKK, Mustafa Karasu, Sabri Ok and Zübeyir Aydar, attended several meetings in Oslo, Norway. This created public discontent because many considered that the state should not be negotiating with the ‘terrorists’. Around the same time of the public revelation of the failure of the Oslo negotiations, in July 2011, the PKK killed 13 Turkish soldiers and the very same day the Democratic Society Congress (DTK), a platform that brought together the majority of Kurdish non-government organizations in Diyarbakır, declared ‘democratic autonomy’ within Turkey’s territorial integrity. All these events led to the freezing of the PKK-state talks and public discussions of reforms to address various aspects of the issue. Although it seems like the above events paved the way for the failure of the Kurdish Opening, it could not bring peace for other reasons as well. Although first initiated by the government by making contacts with several civil society and political actors dealing with the Kurdish Issue, at the end the project turned out to be a one-player game, that is the Justice and Development (Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi – AKP) government, who appeared not to have thought it out well before its initiation. It also was not successful in initiating a dialogue between the opposition parties, CHP (Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi – Republican People’s Party) and MHP (Milliyetçi Hareket Partisi – Nationalist Action Party), and refused to talk to the pro-Kurdish party BDP4 (Barış ve Demokrasi Partisi – Peace and Democracy Party) because it did not declare the PKK a ‘terrorist’ organization. Consequently, the Kurdish Opening soon turned out to be something uncertain and vague. Lastly, Prime Minister Erdoğan ‘began to fear that any perceived concessions to the Kurds would hurt his Turkish nationalist base and future presidential hopes’ (Gunter 2012). These fears led themselves to the closure of

The Kurdish issue   59 the pro-Kurdish Demokratik Toplum Partisi (Democratic Society Party) and the arrest of many Kurdish politicians later on. But more importantly, there was something unexpected that hampered the Kurdish Opening the most since the beginning. The 34 PKK members, which were called the ‘peace group’ by Kurds crossed over the Habur Border Crossing in October 2009 in their PKK combat uniforms. They were welcomed by a huge crowd of Kurds, and quickly released by the Turkish authorities, who arrested them shortly after their entry to the country (Al Jazeera 2009). However, the chantings of the welcoming Kurds: ‘Welcome, peace ambassadors! Kurdistan is proud of you!’ were mostly perceived by the Turkish public as victory parades rather than joyful appreciation of peace. Even though this event did not seem to be an important event to challenge the peace process immediately, the quick release of the PKK members by the Turkish courts, later triggered an anger among Turks with a belief that the state is ‘forgiving the terrorists’. Such a harsh public reaction caused the government to make a U-turn and decide to sentence 17 of them to prison in 2011 for 20 months for spreading ‘terrorist propaganda’ (Today’s Zaman 2011). Things went sour between mid-2009 and 2011, when thousands of politicians, activists, journalists and even academics were captured in the infamous KCK5 trials, for trying to silence the Kurdish dissidents in public. Moreover, for the first time since its removal in late 2002, OHAL was called for in southeastern Anatolia by the leader of the ultra-nationalist party, MHP (Hürriyet 2010). What has set high hopes for the society, at the end, brought the long-lasting conflict to a worse end. Many claimed that the conflict ‘has taken a vicious new turn … as ordinary Kurds and Turks have started fighting in the streets’ (Çağaptay 2010). However, this was not a result of the failure of the Opening, in fact, the Opening failed because it did not address this social polarization. Rather than bridging the polarized society, the Opening increased the fears of Turks who acted on ossified fears and prejudices. In society, there were numerous stereotypes about Kurds and discrimination against them at societal and political levels. After the failure of the Opening, these also became more visible. Kurdish Opening increased Turks’ fears to the extent that there are some scholars who argued that because of the failure of the Opening, ‘episodes of ethnic mobs’ began to be witnessed for the first time in the Republic’s history (Çağaptay 2010). The Kurdish Opening could not address the physical security of Kurds at the individual and group level since frightened by fears of division, some Turks started attacking Kurds sporadically in western cities. As for Turks, it increased their fear rather than creating anxiety about peace to bring them to an ontological insecurity, especially just after the Habur incident. Increased nationalism followed by the Habur incident increased these fears on each side, but resulting in rather different directions. For Turks, the fear of the country being divided by the ‘terrorist PKK’ enhanced by the long-lasting Turkish nationalist teachings was so high that they rejected seeing the Habur incident the way Kurds saw it: a first-time event when Kurds could enter alive from the Iraqi border to Turkey; something to be celebrated. Following increasing fears of Turks and a U-turn to national security

60  Ayşe Betül Çelik discourses at the state level, the Kurds had an ‘emotional break through’ with Turks, feeling anger and frustration that they could not escape being labelled as potential terrorists. This anger and frustration in the following months gave way to a feeling of strength as a nation. It was as if ‘Pandora’s box’ was opened and that there was no going back to the days, where Kurds felt humiliated. The feeling that Kurds no longer needed to prove to Turks that they were a nation started to prevail among Kurds. Such a feeling was a result of historical accumulation of pain, anger and frustration, but also of recent traumas experienced by Kurds in 2011 and 2012, after the failure of the Opening. In Roboski (or in Turkish, Gülyazı/Uludere), acting on information that PKK militants were crossing the border, the Turkish air forces mistakenly fired on 34 Kurds crossing the border smuggling cigarettes and gasoline. In Pozantı prison, Kurdish minors jailed for ‘throwing stones’ at security forces were allegedly exposed to sexual violence and beatings (Bianet 27 February 2012). Following the increase in violence in 2011 and 2012, Diyarbakır, the undeclared capital of the Kurdish region, started to witness clashes between civilians and police again, especially during the funerals of the PKK members. As expressed by the Member of Parliament, Sırrı Süreyya Önder, following these events, Kurds started to gain ontological security: Kurds had [another] disappointment with the state in Roboski; they lost their hope in Pozantı and had given away their feelings of brotherhood [with Turks] by the last incident in Diyarbakır. We, the BDP [the pro-Kurdish political party] MPs, sat down and calculated. Altogether, we were imprisoned for 118 years. In other words, there is no ‘clean’ one among us. Thus, removal of our parliamentary immunity means nothing to us. Kurds got themselves out of the system, because a) they are no longer afraid of anything; b) they gave up hoping … They are free now. (Önder 2012) All the traumas Önder talks about added to the historically accumulated anger and pain, resulting in the belief that there is nothing to lose anymore. Interestingly, this belief increased self-confidence and trust in the group’s power for the first time for Kurds while maintaining the danger of physical insecurity. Yet, this started to undermine the emotional link between Turks and Kurds, which survived even in the hardest days in the past. For peace processes to succeed, they require a plan of certainty of commitment and establishment of trust among the conflicting parties. Peace processes by definition do not have this certainty if not planned well and do not address the concerns of the parties. They also require redefinition of identities so that groups recognize each other and build new relations. Recent polls and research show that Turks and Kurds consider each other as threats to their cultural and even physical beings. Ekin Ok’s study in Izmir, one of the western cities which received a high number of internally displaced people (IDPs), for example, found out that the inhabitants of two isolated neighbourhoods in the city (one an affluent Turkish

The Kurdish issue   61 neighbourhood and the other a poorer neighbourhood mostly populated Kurdish IDPs and migrants) had negative perceptions of each other, with Turks holding a contextually slightly stronger negative view of Kurds than vice versa (Ok 2011). International Crisis Group (ICG) a similar analysis. In its recent report, it argued that most Turks associate Diyarbakır [the biggest Kurdish city in southeastern Turkey, the undeclared capital for many Kurds] and its residents with the war between the PKK insurgents and the army. The stigma is such that few local drivers get Diyarbakır license plates, because the police stop such cars so often elsewhere in the country. (ICG 2012, p.2) Such discrimination and negative stereotypes are also the outcomes of negative representations of Kurds and critical events in the Turkish media. Even though the partial release of the PKK leader, Abdullah Öcalan and gradual autonomy of southeastern Anatolia were discussed somewhat peacefully in the summer of 2009, the positive representation of the Opening radically gave way to the nationalistic discourses as early as 2011. As stated above, this has partially been the result of the media’s representation of the Habur incident as a victory of the PKK, indirectly representing all Kurds as supporters of violence. In return, there was an increasing support among Turks to legitimize military measures in the southeast, and delegitimize contact and negotiation with the PKK. A survey in 2012, for example, showed that only 14 per cent of Turks supported the negotiations with the PKK and Öcalan while this number was around 53 per cent among Kurds6 (BILGESAM 2012). When the Opening failed, on the Turkish side, similar to the Turkish state’s arguments, the belief that it is the PKK and its potential Kurdish supporters who threaten not only the security of the state, but also all citizens in Turkey strengthened Turks’ ‘morally superior’ position that legitimizes the support for more militaristic and nationalistic attitude of the state. Such changes indicate a regaining of ontological security for Turks as they went back to their stable and indisputable positions about the superiority and righteousness of ‘Turkishness’. In the absence of interventions to reconstruct a mutually recognized ‘Us’ and feelings of solidarity and understanding, there erupts a disturbing inconsistency between the conflict parties’ self-narratives and how they are called on to relate to the other. With the structural interventions and Track 1 processes,7 we can only achieve physical security and ontological security to a minor degree. To have a deeper and sustainable ontological security, there is a need for Track 2 approaches as supplementing the changes initiated from above. More importantly, these approaches need to first challenge the dominant ontological security of Turks that still see Kurds as threats, or as Yeğen (2006) puts it, as ‘so-called’ citizens in a peaceful way.8 The Kurdish Opening of 2009, unable to address ‘Turks’ fears’ and ‘Kurds’ dignity’, failed to create a sense of security, stability and simple answers to ‘what

62  Ayşe Betül Çelik next’ questions. What followed next was an increased level of nationalism on both sides that answered these questions for the Self. Turkish nationalism was a safe haven for Turks to answer what needs to be done to resolve the conflict: protecting national integrity by whatever measures were needed. Kinnvall (2004, p.742) argues that: As individuals feel vulnerable and experience existential anxiety, it is not uncommon for them to wish to reaffirm a threatened self-identity. Any collective identity that can provide such security is a potential pole of attraction. It is a war of emotions, where world leaders and other paramount figures are seeking to rally people around simple rather than complex causes. As rallying points, some of these causes seem to have more powerful appeal than others. Nationalism and religion are two such causes or “identitysignifiers” that are more likely than other identity constructions to provide answers to those in need … nationalism and religion supply particularly powerful stories and beliefs because of their ability to convey a picture of security, stability, and simple answers. They do this by being portrayed as resting on solid ground, as being true, thus creating a sense that the world really is what it appears to be. Even though the Kurdish Opening paved the way for Turks to face their existential anxiety vis-à-vis Kurdish national identity, due to the incidences discussed above, it led to an increase in fears (of being divided, for example); while it increased Kurds’ self-confidence, but still leaving them with physical insecurities due to an increase in violence in southeast Anatolia. Phase 6 (The Dialogue Phase 2013–? ): Although the Opening failed shortly after its initiation, in a surprising attempt to revive its efforts to peacefully resolve the issue, the AKP government started a new wave of talks with the PKK and its leader Öcalan in early 2013,9 this time through the help of the pro-Kurdish BDP. Several BDP MPs were asked to shuttle between the imprisoned Öcalan, the PKK in the Kandil mountains and National Intelligence Organization. However, interestingly, to refuse legitimizing Öcalan and the PKK through these visits, the government and Prime Minister chose to refer to them as ‘İmralı’ (referring to the name of the prison where Öcalan is kept) and Kandil visits, rather than their own names. Such was a deliberate choice to mention that the government was not ‘negotiating’ but ‘fighting with terrorism’ through peaceful means (Milliyet 2013). The second difference in 2013 as compared to the peace attempt in 2009 was that in an effort to increase public support for the peace process, the government formed what is known as the ‘Wise People Committees’ (WPCs) to serve in the seven official regions of the country. Although some criticisms were directed to the people and the idea itself, the 63 members of the committees, mostly from the media, academia and the civil society played a significant role in listening to the demands of the ‘ordinary people’ and explaining the need for such a peace process. This was the first of its type in some aspects in Turkey. These committees for the first time facilitated a channel to discuss people’s beliefs, fears and

The Kurdish issue   63 needs and people felt ‘being listened to’. It was the first time, people officially assigned by the government, came to their places to hear their concerns about the way the state has historically dealt with and is now addressing the Kurdish Issue. However, as committee members also expressed in their reports to the government, both Kurds and Turks have experienced years of anger, frustration and fear, expressed sometimes in very hostile and threatening ways, but were not taught to constructively channel these feelings. Committee members detected the existence of polarized language among society. Usages of such words like ‘terrorist’ vs. ‘guerrilla’ or ‘our leader Öcalan’, in reference to the PKK members and their leader demonstrated the polarization in the society (Report of the Academician for Peace 2013). Moreover, what the committees detected especially in the western parts of the country was that certain regions of Turkey have absolutely no idea of what Kurds have been through. This is an important social barrier for the continuation of the process and signals the need to put different groups in touch with each other and inform them responsibly about the history of the conflict as well as the Kurdish demands. Those who came to argue against the committees and the peace process, mostly used the same clichés (such as defining the Kurdish Issue as manipulation by foreign powers, reflecting fear of being divided (discourses mostly of the Kemalist nationalists) in Turkey) but also because they thought this process would lead to authoritarianism (through adopting the presidential system in Turkey). Despite these shortcomings, however, according to KONDA, a public-opinion poll firm, which surveyed public opinion about the negotiations since the public announcement of the talks between the PKK, Öcalan and the government, over the first five months, there was a steady increase in the societal support for the peace process. From January to June 2013, they asked the following question to a randomized sample of people: ‘What do you think about the process which started with BDP MPs’ visit to Öcalan?’ Those who believed that this process was an important contribution to the overall peace process increased from 38 per cent to 53 per cent. Similarly, from January to May 2013, the number of those, who thought that these talks should be seen as the failure of the Turkish state, dropped from 52 per cent to 41 per cent (undecided reduced from 10 per cent to 6 per cent). Interestingly, while the Kurdish population’s support stayed steadily high, the Turkish population’s support increased from 31 per cent to 46 per cent. The biggest change, it seems came from the AKP voters (support jumping from 48 per cent to 74 per cent). However, one should not neglect the increasing support coming from the non-partisans and the undecided. The percentage of support of these two categories rose from 27 per cent to 39 per cent, and from 13 per cent to 46 per cent, respectively (KONDA 2013). What all these show is that there was a slow but increasing support for the talks, thus, the ‘wise people’ did a very important job in trying to create the societal support for peace. However, peace processes are complex, multi-dimensional and should include various issues and various actors. Negotiations are only one aspect of the process. It is more important in establishing a durable peace process to rebuild the trust that has been lost during the conflict. According to a recent study

64  Ayşe Betül Çelik among Kurds, although almost half of the Kurdish population was happy with the recent political environment and maintained the hope for peace, around 76 per cent stated that they would feel extremely disappointed if the state did not do what it is supposed to do (such as changing laws to accommodate the Kurdish political demands) in the peace process (UKAM 2013). What the reports of the WPCs and the public opinion surveys show is that while the political openness since 2009 moved Kurds away from ontological insecurity and recently to a state of physical security due to the ceasefire since January 2013, Kurds in general are in a state of ontological anxiety. According to Can Paker, a member of the WPC in Eastern Anatolia, this largely stems from the fact that they feel that they have always been ‘cheated’ by various Ottoman and Turkish officials over their rights and that this could yet have been another attempt to cheat them (Milliyet 2013). Turks, on the other hand, do not have such anxieties, but hold fears that the government is secretly ‘giving’ some concessions, especially sovereignty over territory, to the PKK. Interestingly, those who support the peace process are those who suffered physically in the conflict the most (Arıboğan 2013). Fears that prevent Turks from trying to understand Kurds are a result of the long-lasting conflict that cut off communication between the groups.

From peace anxieties to stable peace As discussed above, peace requires mutual recognition of identities and their redefinitions in a process supplemented by macro-level interventions (Track 1). For this, certain interventions should be carried out at various levels simultaneously and reinforcing each other. As the Kurdish Issue is a multiple-level and complex conflict, it requires addressing various needs at various levels. Most political initiatives are stuck at the institutional and leaders’ level. Issues and needs at the individual and group levels have not yet become focus of much discussion in Turkey. However, studies in recent years indicate that Kurds see public acknowledgement of wrongs and political apology as a means to secure their ontological Self and a requirement for the establishment of a new relationship with the state. For example, Çelik (2013) and Çelik et al. (2008) found out that the Kurdish IDPs10 especially asked the state to apologize and acknowledge past mistakes to make peace . Zarakol argues that if the state is unable to apologize, it is both because of internally generated obstacles to self-reflection, and because the state is insecure in its relationships with other states (2010). When it comes to accepting its past mistakes, both those inherited through its Ottoman heritage (e.g. the Armenian Issue) or those dating from the Republican period (e.g. the Dersim massacre and the Kurdish Issue), the Turkish state’s position at best has been to argue that the state might have made mistakes, but these stem from its reflexive reaction to protect its existence, either challenged from within or from without.11 Since ‘having to admit to past crimes against humanity would definitely require the state to reconsider its sense of self’ (Zarakol 2010, p. 7) and that

The Kurdish issue   65 an apology requires two major transfigurations in state identity:  from “peaceful” or “peaceful when unprovoked”  to “one that  is capable of unjustifiable violence”, and also from “righteous” to “apologetic”, both of these trans-figurations would challenge the integrity of the narrative of state identity. (Zarakol 2010, p.7) The need to address past mistakes is an ontological security need both at the individual and nationwide socio-political level. As argued by Rumelili in the first chapter of this book, long-lasting conflicts produce narratives that see, especially the dominant ‘Self’ as righteous, preventing alternative past stories to be heard and encouraging ontological security of the group that has been harmed during the conflict. In fact, literature on confronting the past points out the all-embracing power of acknowledging past mistakes and asking for closure to not only establish a new relationship between different entities, but also never letting injustices happen again (Lederach 1998; Assefa 2001; Sancar 2010). That is why there are needs for such mechanisms for confronting the past (e.g. truth and reconciliation commissions) as well as structural changes (e.g. reforms) and direct talks between the adversaries to establish ontological and physical security at the group level and nationwide. War and/or violence addressed at a particular group does not only harm the group physically, but also leads to trauma and feelings of powerlessness for the individual and the collective. While at an individual level, healing requires finding the perpetrators and having closure with them, at the collective level it also requires eliminating sources of overt and structural violence while acknowledging the past mistakes by an authority. If these are done, individuals and collectives would be left to function in an environment of ongoing dysfunction and chaos; being exposed to collective social and communal narratives that are deeply ingrained, and feeling perceived lack of choice/control of their lives. Such feelings were also present especially for Kurds who have been exposed to direct violence in southeastern Turkey in various forms. The most traumatic events were torture, forced disappearances, killings and village evacuations. People who have been exposed to such traumas need to receive healing to overcome the pain and repossess a feeling of control and power in their lives. A requirement for this is a direct or an indirect acknowledgement of the mistake through some sort of confrontation between the perpetrator and the victim. As discussed above, most Turks do not know about or listen to the Kurdish side of the conflict. Socialized and educated with state discourses denying any harm done to Kurds and seeing Kurds as potential terrorists, many Turks believe in the state’s discursive position and a need for the Turkish state to ‘protect’ itself violently if needed. Rather than approaching Turkish history critically and understanding the needs of the Kurds, blaming the Kurdish Issue on ‘Kurdish terrorism’ or ‘foreign powers’ manipulation’ (Ok 2011) makes it easy for many Turks to escape this transfiguration. Moreover, such a belief also dehumanizes Kurds as people who deserve such violent responses of the state. As discussed in

66  Ayşe Betül Çelik depth above, for the peace process to succeed, there is a need for interventions such as trust-building workshops to make a bridge between Kurds and Turks and enforcing Kurdish ontological security.

Conclusion Kinnvall (2004, p.745) argues that: Security as a thick signifier … places an individual or a group inside the wider discursive and institutional continuities within which they are embedded, … unmasking those structural relations through which security discourses are framed. These structural relations reflect the division and inequality of power between those involved and affected by the discourse. This means that those who produce the discourse also have the power to make it “true” – that is, to enforce a particular reading of a threat according to which people and groups are defined. This power to make a discourse “true” is particularly evident in cases where one group holds more privileges and resources and when it uses the language of “difference” as a way to legitimize its own dominance and marginalize others. Security as a thick signifier thus highlights the dynamics behind people’s and groups’ different senses of security by clarifying how societies institutionally and discursively position people into structures of marginalization. It provides the means with which to discuss real economic and social asymmetries, both between and within societies. Kinnvall, pointing out the insufficiencies of social identity and selfcategorization theories in understanding the context within which certain identities become marginalized and treating them as essential, warns us that we need to study these identities by ‘comprehending why feelings of fear, loathing, and even hatred creep into “our” perceptions of “them,” and how these feelings act as common denominators in times of uncertainty’ (2004, p.751). To understand these feelings, we need to study interactions of groups, individuals and individual/ groups with the state and with each other, since insecurities at different levels are interlinked and reinforce each other. In doing so, we need to focus on the asymmetry that exists among the actors. To overcome these insecurities we need complementary mechanisms addressing both structural inequalities and emotions not only to understand the reasons of fears and threats that feed these insecurities, but also to be able to challenge them and establish security between and among different strata of the society. Peace in the Kurdish Issue can only come about through these linkages. According to Ole Wæver (2009), an integrative approach that would bring together the political processes of securitization with identity formation dynamics at the individual and collective level would greatly facilitate the development of securitization theory as a tool for conflict analysis and resolution. Individuals’ and groups’ understanding of security and threat are socially constructed and linked to their understanding of how their identities are accepted by the others in

The Kurdish issue   67 the society in which they live. Therefore, understanding individuals’ and groups’ understanding of the nature of the conflict, everyday violence, and how they are perceived by the Other are all important in understanding individual and group level ontological security. Critical incidences in the Kurdish Issue, media representation of Kurds and the actions/inactions of Turks have contributed in turning passive bystanders – ordinary Turks – into rather indirect but active bystanders, but, however, not necessarily recruiting them to the side of the peace. What Kurds want from Turks for a peaceful resolution of the conflict and vice versa are still different due to the asymmetric nature of the conflict. As argued by Kinnvall ‘the intersubjective ordering of relations – that is, how individuals [or groups in this context] define themselves in relation to others according to their structural basis of power’ (cited in Zarakol 2010, p.7) matters a lot in terms of how they see their securities. Different from an international conflict, where there is an Other whose legitimacy is rarely questioned, but is loaded with negative adjectives, in inter-state conflicts ontological security of the dominant Self rests on the assumption that the minority Other is not legitimate. There is also a difference in terms of how the parties see their own physical securities and recognition of their identities by the others. In the Kurdish Issue, Turks were for a long time at the stage of ontological security and physical security, whereas Kurds were at the stage of ontological and physical insecurity. To establish ontological and physical security for both Kurds and Turks, there is perhaps a need to, first, non-violently challenge Turks’ stable ontological security that sees Kurds as a potential enemy Other to open up a dialogue with it. Such a process, supported by negotiations and reforms at the macro level, only then, can lead to a durable and successful peace process by bringing a new understanding of ontological security. These two processes should be synchronized and complement each other to bring the parties to this re-constructed ontological and physical security level.

Notes 1 According to Çelik and Blum (2007), the important actors in the Kurdish Issue are the ruling AKP (Justice and Development Party) government, the Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan; and the Turkish security forces, including the military, the police, the village guards, and the gendarmerie (a hybrid police-military force responsible for rural security) along with the Turkish and Kurdish citizens of Turkey. In the latest phase, the pro-Kurdish party, BDP, also acquired an important position by shuttling between the PKK, its imprisoned leader and the Turkish state. 2 When first announced, this initiative was entitled the ‘Kurdish Opening’ indicating that it was designed to address solely the Kurdish Issue. Later, it came to be referred to as the ‘Democratic Initiative’, and, finally the ‘National Union and Brotherhood Project’, reflecting the loss of the focus on dealing with the causes and consequences of the Kurdish Issue. 3 In fact ‘living together’ became a cliché that most civil society organizations made use of in the positive environment created by the Opening, rather than a concept that has been discussed in depth. 4 The history of the Kurdish legal political organizations is full of closures and revivals with a new name. Following are the Kurdish political parties, closed and revived in order: HEP (Halkın Emek Partisi/People’s Labor Party), DEP (Demokrasi Partisi/

68  Ayşe Betül Çelik

5 6

7

8

9 10

11

Democracy Party), ÖZDEP (Özgürlük ve Demokrasi Partisi/Freedom and Democracy Party), and HADEP (Halkın Demokrasi Partisi/People’s Democracy Party), DEHAP (Demokratik Halk Partisi/Democratic People’s Party), and DTP (Demokratik Toplum Partisi/Democratic Society Party). BDP (Barış ve Demokrasi Partisi/Peace and Democracy Party) is the seventh party founded, which is known to be close to the PKK ideology. Koma Civakên Kurdistan (KCK)  (Union of Communities in Kurdistan) is a Kurdish organization founded by Abdullah Öcalan, to put in practice his ideology of democratic confederalism. It is important to note that these kinds of surveys should be taken with a grain of salt since it is harder for Kurds to answer these questions with sincerity when there are numerous cases against Kurdish civil society activists. Moreover, the think-tanks that undertake such surveys, such as BILGESAM, are known to be closer to the AKP government. However, it is significant that even under such circumstances, we see a significant amount of difference among Kurds and Turks in how the government should resolve the conflict. Tracks 1 and 2 are terms first coined by Ambassador Joseph Montville (Davidson and Montville 1981). While Track 1 refers to formal contacts and negotiations at the leadership level, Track 2, also known as Citizens’ Diplomacy is about the structural exchanges between those who do not have the ruling power but directly or indirectly affect policy-making or policy-makers, such as academics, civil society members, journalists, etc. This argument, known as labelling the conflict as the ‘Turkish problem’ rather than the ‘Kurdish Issue’ started to be put forward by some scholars (e.g. Ergil 2012) and journalists (e.g. Berkan 2013) (see Perspectives 2013 for the discussion of this issue) in the recent years. Because the talks between the PKK and Öcalan were not made public earlier, it is probable that the talks continued sporadically between 2011 and 2013 as well. Internal displacement of the Kurds in the 1990s resulted from the pressure of the PKK or the state on the villagers to takes sides in the conflict or the insecurity that the villagers felt due to the war in the region. Under the strict measures imposed by the OHAL regime since 1987, many human rights abuses took place in the form of torture, killings and disappearances in the cities; whereas villages witnessed evacuations and burnings along with the individual human rights abuses. As a consequence, many people were forced to or felt that they should leave their homes in the 14 cities where OHAL was strong (Çelik 2013). This is commonly known as Sèvres Paranoia in Turkey. Sevres Paranoia refers to fears that there are external powers who are trying to challenge the territorial integrity of the Turkish state and implement the provisions of the Sèvres Treaty of 1920 signed between the Allied and the Associated Powers. Article 62 of the treaty, in particular, calls for local autonomy for the predominantly Kurdish areas lying east of the Euphrates, south of the southern boundary of Armenia, and north of the frontier of Turkey with Syria and Mesopotamia. Even though this treaty was replaced by the Treaty of Lausanne, signed between Turkey and the Allied Powers on 24 July 1923, the fear that Turkey’s borders are under the threat of such reconfigurations still exists among many Turkish citizens and officials. Although Sèvres Paranoia has always been present in Turkey, it waxes and wanes over time. As it has recently been the case, it normally becomes stronger in the presence of ‘external threats’, such as the formation of political entities outside Turkey that might have impact on the minorities within Turkey.

The Kurdish issue   69

Bibliography Academician for Peace 2013, ‘Barış için Akademisyenlerin Akil İnsanlar Heyeti Değerlendirmesi’. Available from: http://bak.web.tr/node/23 [23.5.2013]. Al Jazeera 2009, ‘Turkey Releases PKK “Peace” Group’. Available from: www.aljazeera. com/news/europe/2009/10/2009102017482535790.html [20.10.2009]. Arıboğan, D. Ü. 2013, ‘Deniz Ülke Arıboğan’ın Akil İnsanlar Heyeti Kişisel Raporu’. Available from: www.denizulkearibogan.net/haberler/deniz-ulke-aribogan-in-akilinsanlar-heyeti-kisisel-raporu/ [20.10.2014] Assefa, H. 2001, ‘Reconciliation’, in Peacebuilding: A Field Guide, eds L. Reychler & T. Paffenholz, Boulder, CO and London: Lynne Rienner, pp.336–342. Berkan, İ. 2013, ‘Türk Sorunu’ Aşılmadan “Kürt Sorunu” Aşılabilir mi?’Hürriyet, 29 January. Available from: www.hurriyet.com.tr/yazarlar/22467410.asp [2.9.2013]. Bianet 2012, ‘Alleged Sexual Abuse of Children in Pozantı Prison.’ Available from: http:// Bianet.org/english/youth/136482-alleged-sexual-abuse-of-children-in-pozanti-prison [27.2.2012] BILGESAM 2012, Terörle Mücadelede Toplumsal Algılar, Rapor51. Çağaptay, S. 2010, ‘Turks vs. Kurds: A Failed Opening Sparks Bloodshed’, Newsweek, 15 January. Çelik, A. B. 2005, ‘I Miss My Village’ Forced Kurdish Migrants in Istanbul and their Representation in Associations’, New Perspectives on Turkey, vol.32, pp.137–163. Çelik, A. B. 2010, ‘Turkey: The Kurdish Question and the Coercive State’, in Civil Society and Peacebuilding: Concepts, Cases, Lessons, ed. T. Paffenholz, Boulder, CO: Lynne Reiner, pp. 153–179. Çelik, A. B. 2013, ‘State, Non-Governmental and International Organizations in the Possible Peace Process in Turkey’s Conflict-Induced Displacement’, Journal of Refugee Studies, vol.26, no.1, pp.1–25. Çelik, A. B. & Blum, A. 2007, ‘Track II Interventions and the Kurdish Question in Turkey: An Analysis Using a Theories of Change Approach’,  The International Journal of Peace Studies, vol.12, no.2, pp.51–81. Çelik, A. B., Gülçubuk, B. & Aker, A. T. 2008, Ovacık ve Hozat Ilçelerinde Geriye Göç Sürecine Ilişkin Araştırma: Alana Ilişkin Temel Demografik Göstergeler ve Göç Süreçlerinde Yaşanan Tarımsal Değişimler, Istanbul: Ulaşılabilir Yaşam Derneği.  Davidson, W. D. & Montville, J. D. 1981, ‘Foreign Policy According to Freud’, Foreign Policy, vol.45 (Winter), pp.145–157. Gunter, M. 2012, ‘The Closing of Turkey’s Kurdish Opening’, Journal of International Affairs. Available from: http://jia.sipa.columbia.edu/online-articles/closing-turkeyskurdish-opening [27.9.2012]. Ekopolitik 2009, ‘Workshop Notes of the Turkey’s Big Roof Project’, November 2009. Available from: www.ekopolitik.org/images/cust_files/100204140319.pdf [27.9.2010]. Ergil, D. 2012, ‘Türkiye’nin Türk Kimliği Sorunu’, Perspectives, vol.3, no.13, pp. 4–7. Hürriyet 2010, ‘Hemen OHAL ilan edilsin’. Available from: www.hurriyet.com.tr/ gundem/15080151.asp?gid=233 [20.6.2010]. ICG 2012, ‘Turkey’s Kurdish Impasse: The View from Diyarbakır’, Europe Report, no. 222. Available from: www.crisisgroup.org/~/media/Files/europe/turkey-cyprus/ turkey/222-turkeys-kurdish-impasse-the-view-from-diyarbakir [30.11.2012]. Kinnvall, C. 2004, ‘Globalization and Religious Nationalism: Self, Identity, and the Search for Ontological Security’, Political Psychology, vol.25, no.5, pp.741–767. KONDA 2013, Ocak-Mayıs Barometreleri, Istanbul: KONDA.

70  Ayşe Betül Çelik Kurban, D., Yükseker, D., Çelik, A. B., Aker, A. T. & Ünalan, T. 2007, Confronting Forced Migration: Post-Displacement Restitution of Citizenship Rights in Turkey, Istanbul: TESEV. Lederach, J. P. 1998, Building Peace: Sustainable Reconciliation in Divided Societies, Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace. Milliyet 2013, ‘Erdoğan’dan ‘İmralı ile Görüşme Açıklaması’. Available from: http:// siyaset.milliyet.com.tr/erdogan-dan-imrali-ile-gorusme-aciklamasi/siyaset/ siyasetdetay/06.01.2013/1651898/default.htm [6.1.2013]. Ok, E. 2011, Are We Becoming More Distant? Exploring the Nature of Social Polarization Along Ethnic Lines in the City of Izmir, Unpublished MA Thesis, Istanbul: Sabancı University. Önder, S. S. 2012, ‘“Meselenin Adını Koyalım” (Let us Name the Issue)’, Talk delivered at the Conference Kürt Meselesinin Çözümüne İlişkin Algılar, Aktörler ve Süreçler, 8 December 2012. Perspectives 2013, Dosya: Türk Sorunu, vol.3, no.13, Istanbul: Heinrich Böll Stiftung. Sancar, M. 2007, Geçmişle Hesaplaşma: Unutma Kültüründen Hatırlama Kültürüne, İstanbul: İletişim. Sancar, M 2010, Geçmişle Hesaplaşma, Unutma Kültüründen Hatırlama Kültürüne, 3rd edition, İstanbul: İletişim Yayınları. Today’s Zaman 2011, ‘Habur Militants Sentenced to 20 Months in Prison’. Available from:www.todayszaman.com/news-258486-habur-militants-sentenced-to-20-monthsin-prison.html [30.9.2011]. UKAM 2013, Kürt Sorunu ve Çözüm Süreci Algı Araştırması. June 2013. Available from: www.ukam.org/pdf/UKAM-Rapor3-TR.pdf [30.9.2013]. Wæver, O. 2009, ‘What Exactly Makes a Continuous Existential Threat Existential – and How is it Discontinued?’, in Existential Threats and Civil-Security Relations, eds O. Barak & G. Sheffer, Plymouth: Lexington Books, pp. 19–36. Yeğen, M. 2006, Müstakbel Türk’ten Sözde Vatandaşa, İstanbul: İletişim. Zarakol, A. 2010, ‘Ontological (In)security and State Denial of Historical Crimes: Turkey and Japan’, International Relations, vol.24, no.1, pp.3–23.

4 Ethnic nationalism and the production of ontological security in Cyprus Neophytos G. Loizides

Introduction This chapter examines how identity politics influence conflict resolution by probing the interplay between ontological security and ethnic nationalism in Cyprus. Contentious politics in the island from the enosis (union with Greece) and taksim (partition) struggle to the April 2004 referendum and the recent Eurozone debt crisis demonstrate how external factors can influence collective selfidentification processes. The case of Cyprus also provides an informative account of how domestic and international factors can transform the national and political orientation of ethnic communities. Historically, both Turkish and Greek Cypriots have experienced strong feelings of ‘motherland nationalism’, namely, a sense of primary loyalty to their respective ‘national centres’ in Ankara and Athens, however these feelings have fluctuated across time and space. Main turning points in contemporary Cypriot history that influenced the identity formation of Cypriots include for instance the decolonization period, the post-1974 de facto partition of the island, the rejection of the 2002–2004 Annan Plan and the post-2008 sovereign debt crisis. The chapter’s general aim is twofold. First, it evaluates alternative responses to ethnic nationalism, highlighting important intra-ethnic differentiations within each Cypriot community as expressed in the main political traditions of the island. Second, it examines how mediations in Cyprus have attempted to secure this multiplicity of identities, including the challenge of continuously reproduced differences in a changing regional and international environment. Although the island has experienced various manifestations of what other scholars in this volume define as ‘production moments of ontological security’ (Rumelili Chapter 1; Lupocivi Chapter 2), the Cypriot case remains understudied in terms of the broader links between identities in formation and domestic or regional sources of instability. Equally, the protracted Cypriot stalemate of the past half century has generated various ritualized ‘routines of enmity’ embedded in the political cultures of all main actors across the divide (Lupovici Chapter 2; Mitzen 2006; Rumelili Chapter 1). As suggested elsewhere in this volume with regard to ontological security, conflicts (especially enduring ones) ‘can generate dynamics – and organizations

72  Neophytos G. Loizides or structures – that become sources of identity, safety or consistency for certain members of the society experiencing conflict’ (Mitchell Chapter 5). For one thing, ontological insecurity often provides favourable opportunity structures for elites to mobilize and manipulate identities. For another, the pursuit of stability, certainty, and consistency of self-narratives frequently ‘leads conflict parties to stick to the habits and routines that reproduce conflict’ (Rumelili Chapter 1) therefore inhibiting long-term conflict transformation. For the most part, relevant analyses of the Cypriot stalemate have failed to move beyond the island to address larger questions of identity transformation, ethnic mobilization and ontological insecurity. Such focus is important in understanding how identity politics interfere with conflict resolution in deeply divided societies. Identity formation has historically been central to intellectual thinking on the island, as demonstrated in studies by Nicos Peristianis (1995), Caesar Mavratsas (1998) and Niyazi Kızılyürek (1999b). Influenced by constructivist approaches in the field (Anderson 1983; Gellner 1983; Hobsbawm 1990), these studies deconstruct the primordialist attachment to motherlands and suggest alternative paths of identification across civic or constitutional lines.1 In most such studies, ‘attachment to the motherland’ and ‘Cypriotism’ could be found at opposite ends of the pole, often de-emphasizing possible forms of adaptation and fusion.2 Setting up oppositional poles ignores a common route towards adaptation. As suggested in this volume, a ‘parallel process of identity reconstruction’ is common in conflict-ridden societies (Rumelili Chapter 1). David Laitin’s work on identity formation in the former USSR and Marc Beissinger’s political opportunity perspective both demonstrate the sensitivity of communal groups to domestic constraints, state policies, and external challenges when expressing identity (Beissinger 2002; Laitin 1998). Adaptation is particularly relevant for small ethnic/national communities (Hroch 1985; Magocsi 1997). It appears in Cyprus as ‘ethnic community identification’ in the form of Greek and Turkish Cypriotism, whereby both communities synthesize their motherland nationalism(s) with Cypriotist elements. Devising a precise definition of national identification and attachment is difficult, however. For one thing, in Cyprus, there is no sharp dichotomy between identifications in the official public discourse or the daily language. For instance, on the Greek Cypriot side, concepts such as Greek Cypriot nationalism and Greek nationalism (i.e. of the Greek Cypriots in the island) are used interchangeably (Mavratsas 1999, p.37). More importantly, both Greek and Turkish Cypriots use the term ‘Cypriot’ to define their own ethnic communities. At the same time, both political discourses use the more precise terms Greek Cypriot or Turkish Cypriot (Lacher & Kaymak 2005; Vural & Rüstemli 2006). Emphasizing both consistency and fluidity in self-identification, the chapter explores the evolution of distinct as well as shared community loyalties among Turkish Cypriots and Greek Cypriots, considering a) attachment to the motherlands, b) island patriotism, and c) ethnic community loyalty. It divides the evolution of each these loyalties into the three time periods noted at the outset: those following the decolonization struggle, the 1974 Turkish invasion and the 2002–2004 Annan

Ontological security in Cyprus   73 Plan. It particularly focuses on future prospects and institutional alternatives for a negotiated peaceful settlement. Challenging conventional conflict resolution theories, it argues that identities and their political manifestations often tend to move at a faster pace than related mediation formulas. As argued in the introduction of the volume, the prospect of peace, through the resolution or transformation of conflict, promises to end fears and deprivations of each side in a conflict yet ‘it also threatens to unsettle the stability and consistency of self-narratives, and their associated routines and habits at the individual, societal, and state levels’. While emphasizing ontological security, the chapter also explores a different angle compared to the rest of the volume emphasizing the role of inclusive institutional arrangements in sustaining conflict transformation. Finally, the chapter examines past failed mediation efforts in the island but nonetheless categorizes the Cypriot dispute as one moving from the direction of a ‘stable conflict’ to a ‘conflict-inresolution’ (Rumelili Chapter 1; Lupovici Chapter 2). It demonstrates how previous mediations have failed to address the challenges of oppositional and shifting identities often unintentionally generating ontological insecurity by failing to address the complexities of identity formation in the island.

‘Motherland’ nationalisms and decolonization Perceptions of common origin and history with Turkey or Greece have been instrumental in mobilizing each community in competing nationalist projects. At one time or another, both communities in Cyprus have linked their destinies to those of their ethnic kin outside the island. Starting from the late nineteenth century, perceptions of the Greek nation as a perennial and organic entity across time captured the imagination of Greek Cypriots (Kitromilides 1979; Papadakis 1999). They increasingly saw their destinies as tied to the ancient Hellenic past of Cyprus and their future to its revival through unification with Greece. Politicized forms of Greek nationalism resulted from resentment of British colonialism and responded to signals of support from key political players on the Greek mainland (Bitsios 1975, p.23; Crawshaw 1978, pp.75–83; Stefanidis 1999, pp.74–108). The decolonization process generated anxieties among the Cypriots as to the future of the island, its international status and also its likely political orientation during the Cold War. The Greek Cypriots reacted strongly against British colonial rule, which was in decline after the end of World War II. Like other colonial peoples, Greek Cypriots fought as allies of the British, sending an estimated 30,000 volunteers (Stamatakis 1991, p.68).3 Following World War II, they naturally felt eligible for freedom and self-government. Based on their numerical superiority on the island, Greek Cypriots supported enosis with Greece. In a Church-run referendum (in the form of signature collection) held from 15–22 January 1950, 95.73 per cent of the entire Greek Cypriot community voted in favour of this objective (Averoff-Tossizza 1986, pp.8–9; Crawshaw 1978, pp.34–56). In the case of Turkish Cypriots, nationalism has been driven by reactions to Greek Cypriot demands, along with feelings of insecurity and fears of political

74  Neophytos G. Loizides marginalization. Turkish Cypriot leader, Rauf Denktaş, has repeatedly used historical analogies to argue how similar the history of Crete is to the history of Cyprus and to claim Turkish Cypriots might face the same fate as their co-ethnics in Crete and the Balkans (Kızılyürek 1999b, p.64; Denktash 1982, p.19; Gazioğlu 1996, pp.85–97). Equally, Greek nationalism in Cyprus introduced symbols and practices that caused the immediate reaction of the Turkish Cypriot community. For example, the Greek words Megali Idea (the ‘great idea’ of Greek expansionism, used earlier in Asia Minor and the Balkans) and enosis have appeared in most narratives written from a Turkish or Turkish Cypriot perspective on this issue.4 In short, at the symbolic level, Turkish Cypriots have drawn inspiration from ‘motherland nationalism themes’. Post-World War II Turkish Cypriot mobilization closely paralleled that of Greek Cypriots, emphasizing geographic proximity to Turkey as well as previous ownership of the island. It peaked in a huge demonstration in December 1949, attended by 15,000 people, who demanded that Cyprus be returned to Turkey, if Britain left the island (Gazioğlu 1996, p.455). Even though EOKA (National Organization of Cypriot Fighters) promised in 1955 not to target Turkish Cypriots their leaders ‘expected that sooner or later the campaign of terror would be directed against the Turkish Cypriot community’ (Necatigil 1998, p.7). Towards the end of 1956, Turkish Cypriots, with the backing of Turkey asked for taksim (partition) of Cyprus into two separate territories (Attalides 1977, pp.78–86; Bahcheli 1972, p.60; Vural 2012). As suggested in the Finnish–Russian confrontation over Karelia discussed elsewhere in this volume (Browning & Joenniemi, Chapter 8 this volume) and as demonstrated in the Cypriot case, threats to an existing territorial status quo can become a source of identity and ontological (in)security for a new nation-state (ibid., 00). In Cyprus each of the two communities identified the other as a threat and a source of securitization rather than as a partner for a joint future. On the one hand, Turkish Cypriot strong objections to enosis aimed at preventing a ‘Greek’ dominated island and implied an understanding that no change to the status quo was possible without the community’s consent (Ertekün 1981; pp.1–5; Necatigil 1998, pp.7–8). On the other hand, for Greek Cypriot leaders, such consent was out of the question. Turkish Cypriots (and leftists) were not included, even at a symbolic level, in what most Greek Cypriots considered a just struggle for freedom. Subsequently, Greek Cypriot nationalism drew its symbols and inspiration from mainland Greece. For instance, the symbols of the Greek Cypriot armed struggle (1955–1959) were carefully selected to correspond to Greek ones. EOKA initially planned to initiate its actions on 25 March 1955, the anniversary of the Greek revolution and a major Orthodox religious holiday (Papadakis 1999, p. 25). EOKA’s leaders excluded references to Turkish Cypriots or leftists; at the same time, they gave the impression that the organization was turning against them. Specifically, Georgios Grivas, EOKA’s military leader, transferred to Cyprus the prevailing form of Greek nationalism following the Greek Civil war, in which communists were outside the national community (Crawshaw 1978; pp.42–91; Holland 1998, pp.29–30; Mazower 1995). Grivas found strong allies in the

Ontological security in Cyprus   75 Church of Cyprus and in conservative forces in society threatened by the rise of the communist left among the working classes and the peasantry (Markides 1977; Servas 1997). Although not overtly targeting leftists or Turkish Cypriots at the outset, the enosis struggle ultimately did both. In the Turkish Cypriot case, ontological and physical insecurities generated political opportunities favourable to mobilizing communal sentiment. As elsewhere, colonial authorities at worst welcomed or at best failed to prevent ethnic divisions, thus enabling them to prolong their reign. More specifically, in their ‘divide and rule’ strategies, the British offered strong incentives to Turkish Cypriots to counter Greek Cypriot demands.5 For one thing, the various institutional arrangements introduced by the colonial administration drew enough British and Turkish Cypriot votes to block the Greek Cypriot majority (Attalides 1979, p.41). For another, prominent Turkish Cypriots served as official representatives of the British administration of the island (Crawshaw 1978, p.43), while others supported British forces in fighting EOKA and manned the auxiliary police forces. To oppose Greek Cypriot demands, British Colonial Secretary Alan Lennox-Boyd even suggested a plebiscite for Turkish Cypriots, one which aimed only at the partition of the island (Hitchens 1984, p.46). More important than British support was the presence of crucial allies within the Turkish political system. In the 1950s, the Turkish Cypriots living in Istanbul and Ankara mobilized public sentiment in the country, made Cyprus a focal point in Turkey’s strategic thinking, and recruited key allies in the Turkish political system (Crawshaw 1978, p.45; Kızılyürek 1999b, pp.62–63; Vryonis 2005, pp.50–55). Then, in the 1959–1960 London and Zürich Agreements, Turkey (as well as Greece) institutionalized its military presence in Cyprus as a guarantor power (Joseph 1997, p.21; Necatigil 1998, pp.9–20).

Independence and the persistence of rival nationalism(s) The 1959–1960 Zürich-London Agreements were seen as a ‘forced partnership’ imposed on the two communities by their respective ‘motherlands’ in the climate of the Cold War (Xydis 1973). The Agreements constituted the first and only power-sharing attempt in the island which lasted for just three years. For one thing, Cypriot independence did not provide institutional mechanisms capable of addressing mutual fears and insecurities in the young Republic. For another, although Greece and Turkey had already joined NATO in 1952, membership did not mitigate the security dilemmas in the broader region. Ultimately, the ZürichLondon Agreements institutionalized the military presence of Greece and Turkey in Cyprus as guarantor powers without requiring them to cooperate within the institutionalized structures of NATO or with the limited UN forces post-1964 (Joseph 1997, p.21; Necatigil 1998, pp.9–20). Despite an earlier informal agreement (‘Gentlemen’s agreement’) for Cyprus to join NATO, the Republic became a member of the Non-Aligned Movement (Xydis 1973, p.413). And while the decision was made against the wishes of Turkish Cypriot leaders, they did not use their constitutional veto (Ker-Lindsay 2004, p.20). In fact, the Turkish

76  Neophytos G. Loizides government opted against Cyprus joining NATO, as membership would have severely curtailed Turkey’s ability to act in the island (ibid., p.20). Given the staggering security gap, it was only a matter of time before ethnic nationalism trumped power-sharing and shared visions of citizenship. Greek Cypriots saw the Agreements as the first step towards enosis while Turkish Cypriots continued to hold taksim as their priority. Both EOKA and the Turkish Resistance Organization (TMT) had already established strong organizational networks throughout the island making ethnic mobilization an attractive alternative, particularly as post-colonial Cyprus contained all features favouring conflict: security dilemmas, grievances, ambiguities in the constitutional make-up and favourable opportunities for rebellion as the two ‘motherlands’, particularly Turkey, supported armed resistance (Loizides 2015). Following the breakdown of the consociational arrangements in 1963, the Turkish Cypriot community experienced physical insecurity and several shocks. Many Turkish Cypriots became refugees and were forced into enclaves, living in conditions of political and economic isolation (Patrick 1976; Stefanovic & Loizides 2011). Then, the community was forced to rely on Turkey for international representation, as Greek Cypriots gained the exclusive right to represent the Republic of Cyprus in the UN (Joseph 1997, p.100; Necatigil 1998, pp.48–51). The perception of an immediate threat predisposed Turkish Cypriots to obey their ‘national leadership’ and its commands (Vural & Rustemli 2006, p.338).6 Admittedly, even moderate Turkish Cypriots signed up for armed resistance during this period (Durduran 2007). Motherland nationalism remained the dominant perspective among Turkish Cypriots and was strengthened by the 1974 invasion and de facto partition of the island. The levels and types of attachment to Turkey changed gradually in the 1980s, however. Initially, the Turkish Cypriot attachment to Turkey remained high, as Turkish ‘intervention’ transformed Turkish Cypriots from a marginalized minority to a secure people within a ‘state’, and in 1983, the ‘nationalist’ camp prevailed politically, as demonstrated in the self-declaration of the ‘Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (TRNC)’7 recognized only by Turkey (Soysal 1992, p.39). In effect, Turkish Cypriots saw the motherland troops as liberators. But these feelings faded with their ensuing international isolation, Turkey’s open interference in Turkish Cypriot community affairs, economic stagnation, and the colonization of Cyprus by Turkish settlers (Lacher & Kaymak 2005). Ultimately, the new conditions led many Turkish Cypriots to reconsider their unconditional loyalty to the policies of the national centre (Sarıoğlu 1997; Bizden 1997). During the 1980s, the opposition made its first electoral breakthroughs, thereby challenging the right-wing Denktaş/Eroğlu hold on power (Hatay 2005). Ideological dependency on the national centres also declined in the Greek Cypriot community after 1974. The coup against Makarios forced people to join opposing camps and fight against their co-ethnics but feelings of betrayal reached a high when Turkey invaded Cyprus (Attalides 1979, pp.57–79; Peristianis 1995, p.131). At this point, the hitherto nationalistic junta returned authority to politicians and abandoned Cyprus to Turkey. Soldiers returned from the battle, bitter from

Ontological security in Cyprus   77 having to fight a superior enemy; some even had received orders from mainland Greek officers to retreat without engaging in battle with Turkish troops. As a result, there was a general decline in the use of Greek national symbols and a stronger emphasis on the need to protect the integrity and the status of the Republic. Simply stated, the Turkish invasion of 1974 was a major turning point in identity formation of both communities. The Greek Cypriot case mirrors that of Karelia (Browning & Joenniemi, Chapter 8 this volume) where identity redefinition followed a military defeat (see also Mock 2011). Since 1974, no Greek Cypriot political party or major social institution has talked about enosis or related goals.8 One of the major post-war successes of the Greek Cypriot leadership was to sideline the enosis discourse and to establish a new set of shared beliefs emphasizing non-violence, EU candidacy, international cooperation and compromise on the basis of High Level Agreements signed in 1977 and 1979.9 In addition, Presidents George Vasiliou and Glafkos Clerides fostered consensus on the need for close cooperation with moderate Greek governments while Greek Prime Ministers Constantine Mitsotakis and Costas Simitis offered support for and political legitimacy to compromises made during inter communal negotiations (Bahcheli & Rizopoulos 1996/7; Clerides 1992; Loizides 2002). Nonetheless, during his first presidency, Clerides added a military angle to this relationship; his poorly-planned Joint Defence Doctrine included stronger military ties with Greece and the purchase of S-300 missiles from Russia (Prodromou 1998). Through militarization, Clerides aimed to bring international attention to the Cyprus problem while appeasing the nationalist-minded fraction of the Democratic Rally and courting votes from hard-line DIKO and Greek Cypriot socialists (Hadjidemetriou 1999). More fundamentally, Clerides believed that moderate policies in intercommunal negotiations should not aim at transforming national identities; instead, communities in the island could reach a peaceful compromise as ‘Greeks and Turks’ (Fokaides forthcoming). In this respect, Clerides aimed at mitigating (ontological) insecurities particularly those of the Greek Cypriot right. At the same time, he was accused of securitizing the Turkish threat and re-emphasizing the rituals of nationalism (for instance, re-emphasizing the virtues of EOKA fighters, endorsing demands of the Church on education and increasing the defence budget). The S-300 missiles gave Clerides a surprise victory over George Iacovou in the 1998 presidential election, but his decision to deploy them in Crete instead of Cyprus marked the end of the Joint Defence Doctrine (Iacovou 1999). Clerides later attributed both the purchase of the missiles and their cancellation to Greece. As this shows, the ‘motherland card’ was increasingly weak at legitimizing domestic politics in the island (Achniotis 1999, p.11).

Alternatives to nationalism? Cypriotism in the (post)-colonial era While ‘motherland nationalism’ dominated the colonial and post-1974 eras, various other forms of identification appeared during the same periods. For instance, Cypriot patriots have argued that citizens should consider their Cypriot

78  Neophytos G. Loizides identity the primary one. Cypriot patriots have focused on strengthening the attachment of citizens (regardless of ethnicity) to Cyprus and its common traditions and symbols, urging reconciliation on the basis of non-ethnic cleavages (Payatas 1999). Neşe Yaşin defined Cypriotism in the lyrics of the song yurdunu sevmeliymiş insan (Love your Homeland):‘Being a Cypriot for me is not a national identity but rather an association with the land, a geographical place, where I shared a history with a certain group of people with whom I have a lot of common traits’ (Cyprus News Agency 1997). The song became the unofficial anthem of those supporting the reunification of Cyprus. Among the first supporters of this approach were politicians and intellectuals associated with the communist /leftist parties of Cyprus who generally represent about a third of the population.10 Early calls for cooperation can be found in the newspapers of the Communist Party of Cyprus, Neos Anthropos, with a circulation of 1000–1500 copies (Servas 1997, p.77) and Neos Ergatis. As early as in 1925, these papers claimed that the first duty of the Communist Party was to eradicate ethnic hatred and to teach the masses that people were not to be distinguished as Greeks or Turks but as rich and poor (Kakoulis 1990, pp.9–19; Peristianis 1995, p.127). Ploutis Servas, a leftist politician and Secretary General of AKEL, presented the history of Cyprus as one of peaceful coexistence between the two communities, with a ‘short parenthesis’ of inter communal strife, driven by the interests of the colonial powers (Servas 1997). Cypriotism, however, failed to become a credible alternative to dominant nationalism in the first half of the twentieth century. Leftists suffered repression from both the British colonial authorities and the dominant ethnocentric Church. For example, leftist poet Tefkros Anthias was excommunicated during a short rebellion in 1931 (Servas 1999, pp.27–28). Nor did the policies of the Greek Cypriot left always honour Turkish Cypriots; the communist party AKEL accepted the demand for enosis on several occasions (Averoff-Tossizza 1986, p.7; Drousiotis 1998, pp.40–46; Markides 1977, p.63). Finally, AKEL rarely sought alliances with other political forces sharing its anti-nationalist agenda; rather, it subordinated the ethnic problem to its own anti-class struggle, which has had limited appeal in non-leftist circles in the two communities. Beyond AKEL, an expression of island patriotism appears in the work of Nicos C. Lanitis in his 1963 monograph Our Destiny earlier published as a series of articles in Cyprus Mail. Lanitis was one of the most successful entrepreneurs in Cyprus, and he represented the rising business class of the island. Lanitis criticized the monolithic attachment to enosis followed by Greek leaders during the period of British rule, arguing that this policy was dictated by sentiment rather than strategy. He was particularly concerned about the geographic distance between Greece and Cyprus: Have a look at an atlas, look at the position of Cyprus; then look at the other Middle Eastern states; then look at Greece. It was obvious that union was not possible except by conquest and this was not possible either. (Lanitis 1963, p.5)

Ontological security in Cyprus   79 Lanitis argued in favour of carefully handling the ‘Turkish factor’, a handling that necessitated the granting of certain guarantees acceptable to the ‘Turks’. He urged restraint in the use of nationalistic rhetoric, closer political cooperation, and increased financial concessions to Turkish Cypriots (1963, pp.5–16).

The new Cyprus association: rise and decline As stated above, the 1974 events triggered a major turning point in identity politics in the island. In the period following 1974, the general feeling of dissatisfaction with the two motherlands, Greece in particular, led to the formation of such organizations as the New Cyprus Association. Its main goals were to promote loyalty for Cyprus, to urge understanding between the communities, and to consolidate democracy. The members of the Association did not deny their ethnic origins and cultural links, but asked the Cypriot people to consider themselves as Cypriots first and as Greeks, Turks, or others second (New Cyprus Association 1980). It made no effort to negate the ethnic origins of Cypriots; rather, these were unreservedly acknowledged and respected (Payatas 1999). It also considered diversity a positive factor, as long as attachment to ethnic origins did not detract from the devotion of Cypriots towards their own common country. One of the leading intellectual figures of the Association was Canadian-educated Josef Payatas, who returned to Cyprus from Canada where he had been exposed to the liberal multicultural debates of the time. Through the publication of the monthly journal Ex Ipathis, Payatas and other intellectuals emphasized common cultural elements uniting the two communities and suggested a form of civic nationalism that could potentially strengthen the Republic of Cyprus. The Association was influential in de-securitizing public discourse during the first years after 1974. It is usually assumed that it attracted intellectuals or members of the bureaucracy in the capital Nicosia. However, according to Payatas, the association also had an impressive reception even in areas conventionally associated with strong nationalist feelings such as Paphos (Payatas 1999). Furthermore, the Association was successful in its demand for the use of Cypriot symbols, such as the hitherto neglected state flag featuring the map of the island. More importantly, post-1974 the terms ‘Greek’ and ‘Turk’ of Cyprus were gradually replaced by the more integrative designations ‘Greek Cypriots’ and ‘Turkish Cypriots’. It is reported that Makarios himself started to see the Cypriotist movement sympathetically (Peristianis 1995, pp.134–135; Payatas 1999). Two other presidents, George Vassiliou and Glafkos Clerides, were influenced by the movement through their connection with Michael Attalides and Katie Clerides, respectively. Katie Clerides, the daughter of President Clerides, became a leading activist for the reunification of Cyprus in the 1990s and often supported ideas similar to those of the Association (Clerides 1999). Nationalists refrained from confronting the President’s family directly partly due to their respect for him; although they disagreed on his pragmatic stance on the Cyprus issue, they recognized his charisma and leadership. The consolidation of the peace movement in the 1990s despite the presence of dominant nationalist discourses owes much to Katie Clerides’ persistence and advocacy.

80  Neophytos G. Loizides After 1982, the window of opportunity began to close for the Cypriotist camp. Democratization in Greece, the rise of popular socialist, Andreas Papandreou, and the coming to power of anti-junta PASOK turned Greek Cypriots back to Greece. Papandreou not only granted unconditional support to the Republic of Cyprus but also acknowledged Greek responsibilities for the events of 1974. In a rarely cited speech in the Cypriot parliament, he stated clearly that these were not exclusively junta responsibilities but issues that affected every Greek person (Public Information Press House of Representatives 1982). Papandreou went on to issue a casus belli against further Turkish aggression in the island, a decision that he reportedly took without consulting Greek military planners and which ultimately had no tangible value (Iacovou 1999). Although democratization in Greece, improved relations, and positive feelings in Cyprus were unquestionably positive developments, they weakened support for the island patriots (Payatas 1999). With Papandreou in power, the ‘Greek motherland returned’ to Cyprus as a security provider, mitigating some existential threats resulting from the de facto partition of the island and the overwhelming military superiority of Turkey in the north of the island. Papandreou effectively securitized the Turkish threat in the public discourse but did so instrumentally failing to enhance the overall security of the Greek Cypriot community. At the same time, the New Cyprus Association became an easy and available target for the nationalists in the press. The Association was accused of promoting the idea of a non-existent Cypriot (Phoenician) nation. The reference to Phoenicians caused a libel trial, which the Association won (Payatas 1999). It failed, however, to save its reputation. In fact, the term ‘New Cypriot’ (Neokyprios) has not been a term applied to devoted island patriots; rather, it has been used pejoratively to refer to the newly rich or to those who lack intellectual interests and culture. Finally, the timing after 1974 was not ideal for the emergence of a mass inter communal movement, since communication with the Turkish Cypriots was limited and ‘motherland nationalism’ dominated following the Turkish invasion. At the same time, Cypriotism was present and in various forms in the Turkish Cypriot community as well. Dr İhsan Ali, a Turkish Cypriot with a close connection to Makarios, was a passionate supporter of the integrity and independence of the Republic of Cyprus. He was opposed to the secessionist acts of the Turkish Cypriot leadership, and as a result, he was considered of questionable orientation in his own community (Özgür 2000, p.13). Interestingly, the most widely-read newspaper in the North, Kıbrıs, which in the past supported the Denktaş/Eroğlu line, published an article expressing admiration for İhsan Ali. In the story, a Turkish Cypriot who had threatened to murder İhsan Ali for his political views subsequently expressed a desire to visit Ali’s grave to express his veneration (Özgür 2000, p.268). While Turkish Cypriots felt closely attached to Turkey immediately after 1974, in the following years, Cypriotism was on the rise, taking a politicized form. Like most of their Greek Cypriot counterparts, Turkish Cypriots did not try to introduce a new form of nationalism. Instead, their major effort was based on cooperating with Greek Cypriots to create a federal solution to secure the reunification of

Ontological security in Cyprus   81 Cyprus and its admission into the European Union. Even the most passionate Cypriotist politicians called for a synthesis of identities, arguing that being simply Turkish or Greek, meant denying the Cypriot homeland (Durduran 1999, pp.16–20; 2007). Alpay Durduran has been one of the most popular politicians on the left, securing almost 30 per cent of the Turkish Cypriot vote in the early 1980s. His electoral appeal declined thereafter because of Ankara’s intervention in Turkish Cypriot affairs (ibid.; Hatay 2005, p.26). Turkish Cypriot journalist Kutlu Adalı opposed these interventions on several occasions, objecting, for example, to explicit colonization attempts to transform the demographic structure of Northern Cyprus. In Adalı’s view, the settlers affected Turkish Cypriots’ social structure, their Cypriotism, quality of life, cultural level, and their ability to make decisions. Such views were widespread among Turkish Cypriots who found themselves ‘under siege by the large inflow of mainland Turks’ (Güven-Lisaniler & Rodriguez 2002, p.187). Adalı who was among the most vocal critics of the regime was assassinated in 1996, likely by criminal groups associated with the deep state in Ankara. According to Sarıoğlu (1997, p.69), these organisations became increasingly involved in politics and terrorist acts in the northern part of Cyprus and turned against Turkish Cypriot dissidents after the 1996 killing of two Greek Cypriot protestors on the Green Line. As for Adalı, there was no arrest for his murder, and according to a landmark ECtHR decision, no ‘effective investigation into the killing’ by Turkey or the Turkish Cypriot authorities (ECtHR, 2005). Other journalists such as Sevgül Uludağ, Adalı’s sister-in-law, and Tema Irkad, both of whom worked for Yenidüzen, as well as Şener Levent and other writers for Afrika, faced death threats (Cyprus Alternative News 2003). In general, these journalists represented the Cypriotist camp in the Turkish Cypriot community; for instance, Uludağ used a new term to define Turkish Cypriots, Kıbrıslıtürk, (one word) which in the Turkish language deemphasized the Turkish component of the identity. Turkish Cypriot journalists opposing Denktaş received public attention and widespread sympathy across the political spectrum in the Greek Cypriot community. They offered familiar symbolism and provided a counter-point to ‘anti-Cypriotist’ claims by criticizing those in the bicommunal movement of attempting to dehellenize the island; in fact, as Richmond suggests in Chapter 9 of this volume, the Cypriotist camp gradually adapted its strategies to avoid challenges to the dominant ‘motherland’ identities. This strategy helped maintain a visible bicommunal movement, nonetheless it weakened its overarching goal of transforming Cypriot identity and politics.

Ethnic community loyalties: from the colonial to the Annan Plan eras Although attachment to an ethnic community could be considered a middle ground between ‘motherland nationalism’ and ‘Cypriotism’, in reality, it has often served a different function. While it appropriates themes, symbols, and rhetoric both from mainland nationalism and Cypriotism, thereby performing a middle-man role, it

82  Neophytos G. Loizides pays more attention to the aspirations of the ethnic community in the island than to the interest of the ‘national centres’ or Cyprus as a whole. Thus, Greek Cypriotism and Turkish Cypriotism take ascendancy in frequently oppositional camps. In an interview, veteran Minister of Foreign Affairs, George Iacovou, argued that Greek Cypriots have the direct responsibility for their future, and ‘Cypriots’ are in a better position to understand the Cyprus problem than their Greek counterparts: Greece does not know Cyprus. Many Greek politicians have a shadow view of what is happening and don’t know many angles of Cyprus and the Cypriots. Therefore, we have a responsibility as a Greek Cypriot nationalism to defend our interest and not to take for granted that Greece could think of itself all these aspects, to project them and defend them. We should be in the first line. (Iacovou 1999) Turkish Cypriot nationalism makes similar assumptions about the future and responsibilities of the Turkish Cypriot community and its leaders. Historically, Greek Cypriotism was manifested in the policies of Makarios and in later years by Cypriot President Tassos Papadopoulos. Among Turkish Cypriots, Cypriotism was best manifested in the alliances between Serdar Denktaş and Mehmet Ali Talat following the rise of CTP in the post-2003 era. In fall 1996, Serdar Denktaş, the son of veteran Turkish Cypriot leader Rauf Denktaş, made a statement which produced major reactions even within his own party. Traditionally, right-wing politicians have been represented by the conservative and nationalist UBP (Ulusal Birlik Partisi, National Unity Party) of Derviş Eroğlu and its smaller splinter DP (Demokrat Parti, Democratic Party) of Serdar Denktaş. These parties described opposition to the motherland as a blunder, since ‘motherland Turkey gave martyrs, paid a high price and faced great sacrifices for the Turkish Cypriots’ (Bayrak 1996). However, Serdar Denktaş identified himself as a Turkish Cypriot nationalist, in contrast to his father Rauf, who was exclusively a Turkish nationalist (Kızılyürek 1999a, p.38). DP members reacted by issuing a special declaration of what being Turkish Cypriot meant, making it sound like a bad copy of Turkish nationalism and squeezing Cypriot identity into the general Turkish one (Bizden 1997, p.86). And Rauf Denktaş challenged his son, arguing that Turkish nationalism incorporates ‘Turkish Cypriot nationalism’ but the one does not negate the other (Bayrak 1996). Nevertheless, structural factors favoured Turkish Cypriotism over other forms of identification. First, the influence of the nationalist-minded UBP and DP reached its limit, and they failed in both domestic administration and external affairs. For the most part, Turkish Cypriot politicians on the right have favoured the status quo, if that will lead to the gradual recognition of the ‘TRNC’ or, alternatively, the continuation of the ‘partnership’ with Greek Cypriots, albeit in equal terms and in the form of a confederation established by sovereign states (Ertuğ 2007; Özersay 2007; Tacoy 2007). Confounding the issue, the Turkish Cypriot right is internally divided as demonstrated historically and in the 2013 parliamentary elections.

Ontological security in Cyprus   83 In 2002–2004 leftist opposition grew as right-wing governments could no longer rely on political patronage through allocation of Greek Cypriot properties and new appointments in the post-1974 Turkish Cypriot administrative structures (Lacher & Kaymak 2005, p.156). Moreover, successive administrations failed to prevent the exodus of young Turkish Cypriots from the island or to stop the influx of Turkish settlers. In addition, Rauf Denktaş and his form of nationalism had limited appeal among the younger and often underemployed Turkish Cypriots who had not experienced past violence (Bizden 1997, p.87; Yashin 1999, pp.223– 237; Vural & Rustemli 2006). Finally, Cypriots realized that the post-1983 goal for independence and international recognition was unattainable while at the same time they risked losing EU accession (Lacher & Kaymak 2005, p.156; KerLindsay 2012). To legitimize new political alliances within the fragmented Turkish Cypriot political system, the smaller nationalist party DP and Serdar Denktaş had to create a common ground with the left that would not alienate the nationally-minded Turkish Cypriot constituency. The Turkish Cypriot left, specifically Mehmet Ali Talat’s CTP,11 saw an opportunity to gain power and win crucial allies within the Turkish Cypriot and Turkish political systems. These considerations explain the remarkable growth of the nonviolent propeace movement among Turkish Cypriots in the 2002–2004 period, its changing nature, including the increased use of Turkish flags, and its final outcome – a coalition government between Mehmet Ali Talat and Serdar Denktaş. Turkish settlers were equally instrumental as they represented a new constituency where CTP could make significant electoral gains. Although there is no official census, Mete Hatay estimates the percentage of naturalized settlers to be around 16–18 per cent of the electorate in the North (Hatay 2005, p.viii) while more common estimates in the international press suggest around 40 per cent (Hope 2003). While settlers can be described as such from the point of view of international law (Chrysostomides 2000, p.434), in sociological terms, they fit the profile of an immigrant population interested more in welfare and daily survival issues and less in politics. Settlers are largely heterogeneous in terms of ethnic and regional background (e.g. Kurds, Laz and Arab speakers), time and conditions of arrival in Cyprus, degree of assimilation and political affiliation. But as suggested by Çelik in Chapter 3 of this volume, understandings of security and threat are socially constructed and linked to how identities are accepted by others in the society they live in. On this point, the framing of the settlers as an existential threat either by Greek or Turkish Cypriots could have major effects in mediation, even though the settlers themselves could conceivably be accommodated in a future settlement through creative immigration provisions. In the Turkish Cypriot community, CTP portrayed an all-inclusive identity combining the vision of joining the EU with equal citizenship for all (Lacher & Kaymak 2005, p.159). Maintaining a precarious balance between its own fears of colonization (Güven-Lisaniler & Rodriguez 2002, p.187) and the need to attract new voters, CTP courted the settler vote. This attempt was marked by a short alliance with Nuri Çevikel, a university lecturer with a mainland Turkish

84  Neophytos G. Loizides background who founded an association to lobby for Turkish settlers’ rights within a unified Cyprus (Hatay 2005, p.56; Hope 2003). Thus, on the Turkish Cypriot side, we see fragments of ‘motherland nationalism’ and ‘Cypriotism’ merging as a result of a favourable political opportunity structure and political expediency. It is interesting to note that similar factors contributed to the emergence of Greek Cypriotism decades earlier with the presidency of Archibishop Makarios who expressed such thoughts although with a degree of ambivalence.12 Following Makarios’ death in 1977, his version of Greek Cypriotism translated into the close political alliance of three parties in the Greek Cypriot community. These ‘democratic forces’ included the social democrat EDEK who drew its constituency from former civilian forces defending Makarios, the communist pro-settlement AKEL who bridged Greek and Turkish Cypriot interests, and finally, DIKO, representing the hard core of the post-Makarios establishment, including former Presidents Spyros Kyprianou and Tassos Papadopoulos. While the three parties formed a comfortable majority in the 2003 and 2008 elections, working together damaged the peace process, as illustrated in AKEL’s decision to rally behind the ‘no’ campaign in the April 2004 referendum and to interrupt the promising peace mediations of 2008–2009. AKEL’s decision to support Tassos Papadopoulos in the 2003 presidential elections appears puzzling outside the context of Greek Cypriotism. While in opposition, AKEL members expressed frustration with Clerides’ use of nationalism and his capacity to win two surprise presidential elections for DISY in 1993 by criticizing the Butros Butros Ghali set of ideas and in 1998 through his handling of the S-300 missiles. The leftist constituency wanted to return to power after a decade in opposition, and many thought that DISY might internally weaken or even disintegrate after the end of the Clerides era (Iacovou 1999; Hadjidemetriou 1999). Even though Clerides attempted to treat AKEL as a ‘respected partner’ in the Annan Plan peace process, AKEL’s antipathy towards DISY and the ‘conservative right’ constrained a broader consensus favouring peace.

Post-Annan: the third turning point The post-Annan period constitutes another major turning point in identity politics in Cyprus especially following accession to the EU in 2004. Unlike other cases presented in this volume, Cyprus’ accession inadvertently contributed to the strengthening of Greek Cypriotism and the breakdown of hegemonic beliefs emphasizing cooperation not only with Turkish Cypriots but also with critical external peace allies for the settlement of the Cyprus problem. For the most part, the Greek Cypriot leadership in the post-Annan era has assumed a predominantly retroactive and legalistic approach. This marked another interesting turn in the ‘de-securitization’ of the Cyprus problem transforming ‘warfare’ into ‘lawfare’ (Erk 2007) relying instead on an excessive use of legal arguments and the ECtHR in expectation of continuous rulings against Turkey. With the status of the Republic secured within the EU, international cooperation seemed less important and it became possible for some Greek Cypriot politicians

Ontological security in Cyprus   85 to imagine Cyprus playing a power game with major European powers relying on its veto power against Turkey’s EU accession. Some even asserted that this could be possible without mainland Greek support or cooperation (To Vima 2006; Boland et al. 2004; Smith 2004). At least in the short term, EU accession weakened the prevalent post-1974 consensus which emphasized cooperation with international organizations and the strengthening of the Republic. Greek Cypriot interests became the dominant focus of political discourse and for the first time, a Cypriot president directly confronted the United Nations and UNOPS accusing them of bribing Greek Cypriots to support a particular settlement in the island, an accusation that has yet to be documented (Cyprus Weekly 2004; Christou 2006). In the 2004 referendum, Tassos Papadopoulos first revealed his views on the Annan Plan in an emotional and polemical plea on 7 April 2004, in which he urged Greek Cypriots to vote no. He addressed the public as ‘Greek Cypriot people’, (Cyprus News Agency 2004) a term used exclusively in the past by Makarios and which had gradually disappeared in Greek Cypriot discourse as it also implied a (sovereign) Turkish Cypriot people. Papadopoulos played up Greek Cypriotism and Greek Cypriot attachment to the Republic of Cyprus with the now commonly cited statement: ‘I was given an internationally recognized state. I am not going to give back “a Community” without a say internationally and in search of a guardian’ (ibid.). Finally, he argued that the plan’s provision to disband the National Guard would create conditions of insecurity for Greek Cypriots, an argument that reminded people of 1974 and mainland Greek inability to protect Greek Cypriots militarily. The Annan Plan referendum campaign made Greek Cypriots rethink the importance of the Republic of Cyprus (the state they attempted to abolish in the 1960s in favour of enosis). While all other turning points in Greek Cypriot history were celebrated with Greek flags, at the end of Papadopoulos’ speech, individuals spontaneously rushed to the presidential palace, waving Cypriot flags, appropriating those as a symbol of Greek Cypriot identity and resistance to foreign plots. The referendum was a once in a lifetime event, with consequences that spanned at least another decade. Tassos Papadopoulos and his political circle won the battle of identity framing but established a form of Greek Cypriot nationalism driven by isolationism and lack of trust for the international community. In direct contrast, in the Turkish Cypriot community, CTP ran media advertisements and campaign flyers featuring Talat with UN Secretary General Kofi Annan, US Secretary of State Colin Powell, and EU Commission President José Manuel Barroso, suggesting that the Turkish Cypriot leader spoke the language of international diplomacy, thus serving his community in the most beneficial manner possible (Sözen 2005, p. 468). The post-2004 Greek government of Kostas Karamanlis lacked the experience and decisive leadership to influence Greek Cypriot politics. In the 2004 referendum, he nominally supported the Annan Plan but did almost nothing to promote it among Greek Cypriots for fear of damaging his relationship with the conservative grassroots of his own party. Karamanlis also feared that imposing

86  Neophytos G. Loizides a settlement would lead to accusations of a ‘second Zürich’, a reference to the failure of his late uncle to achieve a viable settlement over Cyprus in 1959.13 But a significant portion of the Greek Cypriot leadership campaigned in favour of the Annan Plan and remained committed to the principles of a bicommunal bizonal settlement. In the years following the referendum, opposition leaders particularly in centre-right DISY argued that each day without a settlement intensified waves of colonization and brought the occupied territories of Cyprus closer to ‘Taiwanization’ and irreversible partition.14 Surprisingly, DISY survived post-referendum outbidding attacks by hard-line rivals and gradually increased its electoral basis. In its campaigning, DISY reversed the logic of ontological insecurity among Greek Cypriots to support a peace deal. Its leadership emphasized that the continuation of the status quo would allow Turkey and Turkish settlers ‘to dominate the north while Turkish Cypriots will return as partners to the south (Anastasiades 2007). During this period, DISY continued to emphasize the Greek cultural heritage of Cyprus in contrast with AKEL which focused on the common Cypriot character of the two communities. DISY typically campaigned with ‘Cyprus is Greek’ slogans and AKEL responded with the bicommunal slogan ‘Cyprus belongs to its people’. Yet increasingly this division has also become less obvious; DISY’s iconoclastic leader and current President of the Republic Nikos Anastasiades once interrupted a party rally to emphatically ask party supporters to change the slogan to ‘Cyprus is European’. As in the Finland/Karelia case study in this volume (Browning & Joenniemi, Chapter 8 this volume), for DISY, ontological security and national self-esteem were increasingly understood as ‘gained through successfully playing the new games of Europeanization and globalization’ (ibid., p.16). The February 2008 election was the first to take place after Cypriot accession to the European Union and the abortive 2004 referendum. It occurred in a highly politicized environment within the Greek Cypriot community in the midst of concern over the future of bicommunal negotiations. Tassos Papadopoulos capitalized on the ‘no’ vote and promised that future negotiations would not be based on the defunct UN plan. Ioannis Kasoulides, DISY’s nominee for the presidency emphasized his role in steering Cyprus towards EU membership, and portrayed himself as a modernizer able to restore Greek Cypriot credibility within the EU and to restart stalled reunification talks. Meanwhile, Dimitris Christofias from AKEL claimed to be more adept than his rivals at reaching out to Turkish Cypriots because of his long-held ties with the Turkish Cypriot left. Papadopoulos was eliminated in the first round and after a week of deliberation with the losing parties, Christofias won the support of former Papadopoulos allies EDEK and DIKO. In the second round, the Kasoulides camp emphasized educational and heritage issues, openly accusing AKEL of undermining the Greek and Greek Orthodox heritage of the island. However, these arguments proved weaker partly due to DISY’s earlier pro-peace transformation and AKEL’s close relationship with former allies in the Papadopoulos camp dating back to the 1960s. Even with Christofias’ victory, hopes to reunify the island while leftist Talat was in power were dashed. Despite its long tradition of bicommunal engagement,

Ontological security in Cyprus   87 AKEL was silenced until 2008 under Papadopoulos, suppressing its desire for a settlement to pacify hardliners in DIKO and EDEK, and prioritizing domestic coalition needs rather than settlement negotiations. Meanwhile, moderate forces in the North began to lose strength because of widespread disappointment among Turkish Cypriots over lack of progress in the negotiations and domestic governance issues. More importantly, for the first time since the 1990s,the nationalist block appeared to be united against Talat; specifically, an alliance was formed by right-wing UBP and DT, traditional opponents in the competition for the nationalist Turkish Cypriot vote. Like Christofias, Talat failed to reach out to other moderate Turkish Cypriot parties, to sustain alliances with moderate settlers, or to transform hardliners across the political spectrum. In addition, conditions in the North and in Turkey did not allow the AKP government to intervene in favour of Talat, unlike promilitary Turkish governments in the 1980s. From Ankara’s point of view such intervention was not only difficult but also unworthy given perceived Greek Cypriot intransigence in the negotiations. Eventually, moderate leader of the left, Mehmet Ali Talat was ‘toppled’ in the elections of April 2010 by nationalist UBP’s Derviş Eroğlu.

The aftermath of the 2013 presidential elections Three years later in February 2013, Anastasiades was elected to the Presidency of the Republic of Cyprus. His election brought new hopes for a peace settlement. As mentioned, the new Cypriot President belongs to a political tradition that attempts to synthesize ‘motherland’ Greek national ideals with a pragmatic approach to the Cyprus question. This political tradition initiated by Clerides will be tested for consistency and effectiveness in the near future. As Anastasiades assumes his duties, his presidency will provide insights into the role of identity politics in peace mediations. As mentioned in the introduction, most studies assume that attachment to ‘motherlands’ and Cypriotism belong to opposing poles and, thus, they often exclude the route towards adaptation chosen by centre-right politicians. As Rumelili (Chapter 1) argues, identities in Cyprus have blended and come to accommodate one another, but many overlook this adaptation. Moreover, Anastasiades could enter negotiations with a few key advantages. For one thing, he will be able to influence EU decisions on important issues, including Turkey’s EU accession and energy politics in the Eastern Mediterranean. For another, his party, Democratic Rally, played a key role in the island’s accession process to the European Union and maintains close connections with the US, the UK and Israel. It is seen as the political force best able to mobilize international support for a peace settlement, a process side-lined since 2004. In the post-Annan period, especially after the election of Christofias in 2008, rival AKEL capitalized on the party’s historical connections with the Turkish Cypriot community and emphasized reunification in its electoral programs; however, following the explosion in Mari, the party’s orientation remains

88  Neophytos G. Loizides unclear, and AKEL faces an unprecedented crisis. Since a DISY-AKEL alliance is unimaginable in Greek Cypriot politics, both must constantly approach DIKO and EDEK in search of a coalition, a point underlined by Member of European Parliament Eleni Theocharous who argued in an interview with the author that for DISY to regain power, it must make a pre-election pact with DIKO or EDEK (Theocharous 2009). Indeed, in 2013 Anastasiades was elected as a moderate in coalition with DIKO; thus, his future mediation style will have to entertain the ontological and other insecurities of the entire Greek Cypriot right. Following DIKO’s departure from government in early 2014, the Cypriot president will have to maintain close working relations with all major political parties in parliament order to secure the necessary votes in implementing the memorandum negotiated at the Euro Group summit on 16 March 2013, only weeks after his election. Despite these difficulties, Anastasiades will possibly attempt to move the process forward, if he receives the right encouragement, timing and incentives. In a statement that demonstrates his tradition of statesmanship, a close associate of the President told the author that Anastasiades ‘is not facing elections anymore but the judgment of history’ (Stylianides 2008).

Conclusions The case of Cyprus supports scholarly perspectives that see identities as constructed and reconstructed as political factors, security conditions and opportunities change (Laitin 1998, p.20; Rumelili Chapter 1). The case study also demonstrates a major challenge for conflict resolution theories, as identities and their political manifestations often tend to move at a faster pace than related mediation formulas in the stagnant Cypriot peace process. The observations from Cyprus also raise important questions for future conflict resolution initiatives. First, as ontological security and broader identity issues appear to be critical, we must consider whether creative meditation and institutional design could address or even mitigate such concerns. Even promising institutional designs might themselves have side effects or even aggravate security concerns of parties involved in a conflict. Moreover, a central challenge for mediators in divided societies is dealing simultaneously with multiple and shifting identities during contested peace processes. Until now, conventional wisdom in Cyprus has assumed that mediations could be the prerogative of the two leaders of each community ignoring, for instance, the main political parties in opposition, civil society, and the broader public. But as the experience of past mediations in Cyprus suggests such exclusive approaches undermine promising mediations and deprive them of both inclusivity and the opportunity to address wider identity concerns. A policy relevant conclusion of this chapter is that both communities in the island are internally divided and that consociational structures should reflect those divisions. Thus, it is important to select those institutions that will welcome rather than antagonize the diverse identities of contemporary Cypriots. Recent scholarship in consociational theory and practice has also demonstrated the importance of inclusivity not only across

Ontological security in Cyprus   89 ethnic lines but also within groups to safeguard the stability and effectiveness of contested peace processes (McGarry & O’Leary 2009; McCrudden et al. 2014; Moore et al. 2014; McEvoy in press). Moreover, the Cypriot case demonstrates the interplay of identity politics and conflict mediation. Most forms of identification have, to varying degrees, certain propensities to conflict escalation or, alternatively, to reconciliation. Almost every form of identification could potentially serve peace or conflict, albeit in different ways. For example, ‘motherland nationalism’ is not necessarily destructive and could serve as an important reinforcement of moderation if Greece and Turkey work together to convince otherwise ‘hard-line’ leaders of the two communities to reach a settlement. Likewise, ‘Cypriotism’ is an important resource for the unification of the island particularly in enabling moderates the role of arbitrators in a broadly inclusive consociational system. Admittedly, Greek or Turkish Cypriotism could prevent settlement if each community continues to value its ‘independence’ in a separate state over the benefits of a settlement. But such identifications could be also accommodated in a much more effective decentralized and broadly inclusive federation which would not interfere with the chosen identities and daily lives of its citizens but instead focus on expanding human rights and the overall quality of life.

Notes 1 Ernest Gellner paid special attention to the Greek case in defining the limits of constructivism. For him, the ancient Greeks possessed a vigorous awareness of their own shared culture, which distinguished them from the outsiders (Varvaroi). However, their sense of unity had little political expression, in aspiration, let alone in achievement. Even ‘when a pan-Hellenic polity was established under Macedonian leadership, it very rapidly grew into an empire transcending by far the bounds of Hellenism. In ancient Greece, chauvinistic though the Greeks were in their own way, there appears to have been no slogan equivalent to Ein Reich, Ein Volk, Ein Führer’ (Gellner 1983, p.14). 2 Zenon Stavrinides defines this dichotomy using the terms Hellenocentric and Cyprocentric (1999, pp.62–64). More specifically, various anthropological studies demonstrated the complexities of Greek Cypriot and Turkish Cypriot identification, the diverse ways that each individual distinguishes herself or himself from people in mainland Greece and Turkey or from members of the other community in the island as well as the way individuals often switch from one identity to another (Papadakis 2005). 3 According to Mallinson, however, among the 37,000 Cypriots who volunteered for the British Armed Forces at the time, one third came from the Turkish Cypriot community (Mallinson 2005, p.11). 4 The author examined all Turkish language books in politics and recent history of Cyprus under the Cyprus section of the Robarts Library, University of Toronto, 28 November 2003. Out of 37 books in the University of Toronto library, 28 had the words enosis or Megali Idea in their first five pages. 5 Scholars are divided on the degree to which the British had a decisive influence on mobilizing the Turkish Cypriots. For instance, Kızılyürek describes a British uneasiness with the growing nationalist feeling among the Turkish Cypriots (1999b, pp.54–65).

90  Neophytos G. Loizides 6 While making an election speech in 1970, Nikos Sampson, then leader of a paramilitary militia, spoke of ‘cleansing the island of the stench of the Turks’. Peter Loizos uses this incident to provide a lucid account of how incendiary speeches contribute to an environment where societies become tolerant towards war crimes committed against ethnic others (Loizos 1988, p.647). 7 The Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus was declared on November 1983 but in accordance with established international norms it could not qualify for international recognition. 8 An exception to this was the small weekly newspaper Enosis, which retained strong unionist views but entertained an audience whose actions were peaceful and positions marginalized. However, revived forms of motherland identification reappeared in various instances while extreme right-wing ELAM has increased its influence following the rise of the Golden Dawn in the 2012 general elections in Greece. 9 Although this marked a significant transformation, there were also major differences to be reached among all interested sides. For a detailed matrix and analysis of positions and priorities of the main actors see Yesilada and Sozen (2002). 10 Michael Attalides argues that the move to differentiate Greece and Cyprus stemmed from the existence of a legal communist party in Cyprus, the separate development of Cypriot institutions, British colonial legacies, and vested interests in independence among various groups in Cypriot society (Attalides 1977, p.73). Comparable but not analogous conditions were present for Turkish Cypriots, but the timing of the emergence of Cypriotism in the two communities differed. 11 This was not very difficult, as the party’s name Republican Turkish Party (CTP) implied commitment to Turkish Kemalism. 12 During the first years of the Republic, Makarios remained loyal to the idea of enosis, but he was not willing to make any compromises that could endanger the territorial unity of Cyprus. Roughly speaking, for the Greek governments, it was imaginable that a small part of the island could go to Turkey, if that meant Greece could gain the rest. But for Makarios, the island of Cyprus was the homeland of Cypriot Hellenism, and its division could not be accepted, even if this meant the unification of the rest with Greece (Joseph 1997, pp.65–67; see also Loizides 2007). As suggested in Israel/ Palestine (Lupovici Chapter 2), relinquishing parts of territory permanently seems to pose a significant challenge to actors’ identities. 13 Zürich is the point of reference against negotiating a settlement with Turkey; see for instance, Greek Parliamentary Debates (23 October 1980, p.739). 14 Taiwanization is a term used by Greek Cypriots politicians to describe the possibility of ‘TRNC’ coming closer to being de facto recognized internationally, like Taiwan.

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Ontological security in Cyprus   95 Interviews cited Clerides, Glafkos, former President of the Republic of Cyprus, December 2009. Clerides, Katie, MP for Democratic Rally, December 1999. Durduran, Alpay, Leader of the New Cyprus Party, September, 2007. Erk, Emine, President of the Cyprus Human Rights Foundation, September 2007. Ertuğ, Osman Member of the Turkish Cypriot Negotiating Team, September 2007. Hadjidemetriou, Takis, Former Vice President of EDEK, December 1999. Hadjigeorgiou, Takis, Member of the Parliament for AKEL, December 1999. Iacovou, George, Former Minister of Foreign Affairs, December 1999. Özersay, Kudret, Member of the Turkish Cypriot Negotiating Team, September 2007. Payatas, Josef, President of New Cyprus Association, December 1999. Stylianides, Christos Member of the Parliament for DISY, December 2008. Tacoy, Hasan, Former Member of the Parliament for UBP. September 2007. Theocharous, Eleni, Member of the European Parliament for DISY, September 2009. Vathrolomeos, Ecumenical Patriarch of Istanbul, December 2001.

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Part II

Ontological (in)security in the process of conflict resolution

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5 Ontological (in)security and violent peace in Northern Ireland Audra Mitchell

Introduction In central Belfast, riots break out. Over the course of a month, thousands of individuals take part. A number of police officers are injured (McDonald 2012) and death threats are issued to MPs (Belfast Telegraph 2012). Violence explodes when Loyalist protesters staging a demonstration at Belfast enter the Catholic enclave and traditional Republican stronghold of Short Strand and fighting breaks out between the two groups. The protesters are demonstrating against a symbolic issue: the Belfast City Council’s vote to end the practice of flying the union flag 365 days a year from the dome of the City Hall. This scene has all the hallmarks of the ‘Troubles’: ‘sectarian’ symbolism, friction between police and citizens, confrontation between Loyalists and Republicans, and the combination of physical and material violence. But this is not 1972, 1982 or even 1992. It is late 2012 and early 2013: just short of 15 years since the signing of the Good Friday/Belfast Agreement (GF/BA), heralded as the founding moment of one of the world’s most successful peace processes. This violence is by no means an isolated incident in the years following the GF/BA. Indeed, as this chapter will discuss, the peace process has experienced a steady flow of violent acts throughout first decade of the 2000s. This violence has been perpetrated by actors associated with both ‘sides’ of the traditional Republican/Loyalist dyad, and by newly emerging ‘splinter’ groups on each side. What can explain the continuation and, in some cases intensification, of this ‘violent peace’ (Mitchell 2011)? Former US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, who, by a strange twist of fate, visited Belfast just hours before the initiation of the ‘flag riots’ discussed above, claims that it was evidence that the peace process was ‘not over yet’ (McDonald 2012). Her comments reflect a common refrain: that violence of this kind suggests that the peace process is not yet complete, and work on it needs to be redoubled. My research has shown, however, that in some cases the peace process itself is a source of threats that magnify violence – or even a source of indirect violence in itself. As this chapter will discuss, the role of transformative peace processes in generating (in)security is crucial to the issues explored in this volume.

100  Audra Mitchell In this vein, I want to make several main arguments. First, I contend that the ontological security framework makes important strides in complicating our notion of (in)security in situations of conflict and peace-building. Yet it does not account for two important elements: the (often subtle) difference between ontic and ontological threats; and dynamics inside and outside of the primary Self/Other dyad that shape its relations. I shall distinguish between threats to the ontic (categories of empirically-accessible, concrete entities or beings – including identities and social structures) and the ontological (the meta-categories of being in which humans believe). Moreover, I shall explain why the relationship between ontic and ontological threat is ambiguous, and how that can lead to conflict and even violence within the primary Self/Other relationship. Then, I shall examine why the ‘other Selves’ and ‘other Others’ that shape the primary Self/Other relationship can alter the dynamics of conflict and the perception of threat – physical, ontic and/or ontological – that arises from it. Finally, I shall explore these phenomena in the context of two examples: the Provisional IRA (PIRA)/ Sinn Fein’s construction of ‘dissident’ Republicanism; and the Ulster Defence Association (UDA’s) response to the challenge of weapons decommissioning. The chapter concludes that transformative peace processes promise to provide physical, ontic and ontological security for those actors that they integrate. However, actors who cannot (or will not) be integrated into the peace process, or who simply do not trust the peace process with their ontological, ontic and/or physical security, may be isolated and placed under acute threat, sometimes on all three dimensions mentioned above. Appreciating this problem helps us better to understand the persistent conflict and violence that often attends peace processes – even ‘successful’ ones.

Onto-(in)security The ontological security framework presented in Chapter 1 of this volume makes an important contribution to understanding the persistence of violence and conflict between groups during peace processes. By distinguishing between physical and ontological security, and by demonstrating that they can rise and fall in inverse relations, it helps to highlight the diversity and complexity of states of (in)security. However, this chapter will raise two critiques of the ontological security framework with a view to expanding and deepening it as a means of understanding the various forms of (in)security that attend peace processes. First, I want to make a distinction between ontological and ontic threats, and to show how this distinction shapes dynamics of violence and conflict in peace processes. Rumelili (Chapter 1) (following a number of notable scholars of IR theory) uses the term ‘ontological’ to describe the nature of the threats to identity or Self experienced by conflicting groups. However, I want to argue that what these authors describe are often, in fact, threats on the register of the ontic. Rumelili (Chapter 1) adopts Anthony Giddens’ notion of ontology, with its distinct focus on the empirical aspects of being. However, I want to argue that there is good reason to reconsider the ontic/ontology distinction – if not to reinstate it in an uncritical

Violent peace in Northern Ireland   101 way. In Being and Time, Heidegger distinguishes between these two concepts in the following way. The ontic, he suggests, refers to entities, or to things that exist, the conditions of their existence, the categories into which they can be placed, and their empirically-accessible features. For this reason, the ontic, Heidegger claims, is the concern of the sciences. Ontology, on the other hand, relates to the nature of Being and the study thereof. That is, ontology is a transcendental metaphysical concept that over-arches all ontic beings and categories. It refers to the structure and conditions of existence itself. I do not quite take Heidegger’s distinction at face value. He treats the ontological as a privileged realm to which only human beings (Dasein) have access, and one which is removed from concrete reality. But there are a number of non-transcendental ways of re-thinking Heidegger’s distinction between the ontic and the ontological. One of them involves positing that an entity need not be transcendental or encompass ‘Being’ it itself in order to be ‘ontological’. Rather, it is necessary that humans believe it to be a meta-category that supervenes upon the specific concrete entities that embody it in the world. In other words, humans believe that there are categories of being that are not reducible to specific configurations of beings – that is, forms of being which can be manifested in many ways. This is not quite the same as saying that there are emergent material structures which are not reducible to their constituent units. Rather, it refers to the belief that there are meta-categories that impose unity on a set of empirically observable beings, which pre-exist and may survive the destruction of those beings (Wendt 1999, has written about this with regard to states). This is not ‘ontology’ in the way that Heidegger uses the term; but it suggests that the move from the concrete to the categorical is not simply a matter of degree (that is, different levels of the ontic). Instead, humans believe that there are ‘higher’ categories which may not transcend the world, but which are in some sense ‘above’, and impose integrity on, the ontic phenomena that are presented to human senses. Whether or not these ontic and ontological categories are ‘real’ is beyond the scope of this discussion, and is in fact not relevant to it. Moreover, the strategy of analysing conflict dynamics in terms of ontic and ontological threat does not entail a normative commitment to this idea.1 What matters in situations of conflict – and what enables ontological threat – is that the groups in question believe that these categories exist. Crucially, ontic and ontological categories are perceived to be nested – but not in a straightforward way. An ontic category may be understood as integral to an ontological one, but this is not always the case (and certainly not for all actors who perceive it). For instance, a group may understand its particular way of life to be an instantiation of a broader, perhaps national category, and this category to be nested within the category of ‘humanity’. The nesting of these categories is ambiguous because in some cases, one category may be deemed necessary to the existence of the next, and in other cases not. For instance, one might believe that even if one’s entire culture was destroyed, one’s nation would still survive – in other words, even if all ontic evidence were destroyed, the nation would persist at a ‘higher’, ontological level. In such a case, the culture in question would be treated as ‘ontic’, while the nation would be considered an ‘ontological’ category.

102  Audra Mitchell Alternatively, one might believe that the culture was so integral to the nation that the latter would collapse in the absence of the former; or, indeed, that the culture was ontological and the nation one of its ontic manifestations. In other words, there is a great deal of ambiguity in beliefs about the relationship between the ontic and ontological, which vary according to perspective. Elsewhere (Mitchell 2014) I have discussed the relation of the ontic and ontological in relation to decision-making about military intervention. I draw on Michael Walzer’s comment that, if international organizations fail to respond effectively to mass violence, we face a loss that is greater than any we can imagine, except for the destruction of humanity itself. We face moral as well as physical extinction, the end of a way of life as well as a set of particular lives, the disappearance of people like us. (Walzer 2004, p.43) Walzer’s statement illustrates how analysts make a distinction between threats on the register of the ontic and the ontological. Threats at the ontic level place particular people and social configurations in danger (and I would argue that ‘ways of life’ also fits within this category). Meanwhile, threats on the register of ontology jeopardize whole categories of being. Walzer’s statement reflects the (often implicit) distinction that international actors make between ontological categories and ontic instantiations of them. If decision-makers choose to treat the loss of a ‘way of life’ as a threat to the ontological category of ‘humanity’, I claim, this may help to bolster decisions to intervene. But if they treat the threats as separate and do not interpret threats to the ontic conditions of a group as threats to ‘humanity’ – or indeed, if they treat a national group as an ontic category rather than an ontological one – then they may be less inclined to intervene. Both scenarios may have heavy consequences. This example demonstrates the ambiguity of beliefs about the nested relationships between the ontic and the ontological, and the subjectivity of these beliefs. This adapted distinction between ontological and ontic suggests that there is an important and ambiguous relationship between concrete entities and the metacategories of which humans believe them to be manifestations. Strictly speaking (and in Heideggerian terms) what I am describing is the meaning ascribed to the perceived relations between ontic and what we might call meta-ontic categories. But I believe that the term ‘ontological’ is still useful, not only to avoid conceptual confusion, but also to signify the qualitative discriminations that people make between these different categories. Perceiving an ontic threat to be an ontological threat is not simply a matter of ‘scaling up’: it suggests that an entire form of being is at stake. Although this does not preserve Heidegger’s distinction, an important trace of it remains in the belief in a higher (if not quite transcendent) level of being, and so it makes sense to refer to it as ‘ontological’. Making a distinction between the ontic and ontological is not just a matter of rhetorical nit-picking. On the contrary, it is crucial to understanding the kind of

Violent peace in Northern Ireland   103 dynamics that the contributors to this volume are working to understand. The reason for this is simple: just as Rumelili argues that physical and ontological (or what I have called ‘ontic’) security are distinct and can condition each other in multiple ways, I want to argue that the same holds for ontic and ontological security. For example, it is very possible that a threat to the existence of a group’s structures, integral symbols, language and so on could be understood as a threat to the form of being of which that group believes itself to be an instantiation (for instance, the category of humanity). In this case, a threat to ontic security is a threat to ontological security. On the other hand, it is possible that, if a group feels that its humanity, or even its way of being is secure, then even quite radical or destructive changes to the ontic features of one of its instantiations might not be perceived as an ontological threat. Viewed through this lens, what Rumelili refers to as the ontological – the stability of identity, or the ‘dynamics, processes, acts, and politics that centre around the reproduction of narratives, habits and routines and the maintenance of a system of certitude’ – should be understood in the first instance as elements of ontic (in)security. They may, or may not, be perceived by the groups in question or by other actors as ontological threats; this depends on the beliefs of the group in question. Survival, on the other hand, could be viewed as an issue of either ontic or ontological (in)security – or both. On the one hand, the survival of a particular group of people or their specific cultural structures might be understood as necessary to the integrity of a category deemed to be ontological (e.g.‘humanity’). On the other hand, that group might believe that its way of being persists at a ‘higher’ (metaphysical) level despite the destruction of specific instantiations thereof. Each of these beliefs has important consequences for the relation of the threatened group to its Others, which I shall explore shortly. For the moment, I want to stress the distinction between ontological and ontic (in)security, and the fact that their relationship is ambiguous. To avoid confusion, I propose that we refer to the entire set of problems with which the existing ontological security framework is concerned as issues of ‘onto-(in)security’. This allows us to preserve the ambiguity that shapes beliefs about the relation between the ontic and ontological, then, through analysis, to distinguish between situations of ontic and ontological threat.

Other selves, other Others: beyond the primary Self/Other relationship My second critique of the ontological security framework is that it focuses almost exclusively on what I would call the primary Self/Other relationship: the dynamic between the directly conflicting parties. This relationship is usually framed in terms of groups that are mutually co-constitutive, but also mutually exclusive. Although it is not the case in every example, the existing literature on ontological security tends to frame this relationship as one between structurally similar groups (e.g. two nations within a state). It usually constitutes Self and Other as clearly bounded groups with distinct identities, rather than impersonal or structural

104  Audra Mitchell conditions. A heavy focus on primary Self/Other relationship, understood in this way, obscures two issues: first, that there are other Others with/against which the Self might distinguish itself; and second, that there are other Selves within each of the groups in the primary relationship, which might be multiplied or fragmented in the peace process. The first problem relates to the contextual sources of threat that face conflicting groups. That is, sources of onto-insecurity do not arise just from the primary relationship, but rather are conditioned by many other actors, institutions and phenomena. The relationships between a Self in the primary relationship and another entity – for instance, a state, or even an impersonal force such as a peace process – can alter its relationship to the Other. Moreover, the primary relationship itself is embedded in broader structures and conditions, in which changes in one area may have knock-on effects (either direct or indirect) on others. For instance, the structural changes brought about through economic redevelopment may alter the status of the Self in the primary relationship, which may change its perceived relation to its primary Other. Or, these changes might make both groups worse off, enhancing the sense of threat they perceive with regards to each other. So, it is crucial to pay attention to these other Others, which are often ignored because they do not fit within the linear nature of the analysis of inter-group dynamics. The second problem derives from a tendency to treat the Self and Other in the primary relationship as if they were more or less internally homogeneous. Even when in a state of what Rumelili calls ‘ontological security’ (that is, enjoying a stable identity), a group is likely to be composed of many sub-groups that understand themselves differently from its ‘mainstream’. In this volume, both Loizides (Chapter 4) and Lupovici (Chapter 2) have shown how this phenomenon plays a role in conflict and the attempts made to resolve it. Drawing on the example of Cyprus, Loizides shows that ‘Cypriotness’ has several variants: GreekCypriot, Turkish-Cypriot and pan-Cypriot, identities that have shifted over time and in response to political events. This, he claims, produces an assemblage of identities that both overlap and diverge. Lupovici shows how such pluralization or fragmentation can generate their own dynamics within the context of conflict. He argues that clashes between different versions of the Israeli Self have led to what he calls ‘ontological dissonance’: a state in which the Self must decide ‘who it is’ while facing an existential threat from the other. The same kind of logic, he suggests, is applied to the Other, as reflected in Israel’s tendency to portray Hamas as an ‘enemy other’ and the Fatah as an Other who can, at least to some degree, be negotiated with. Each of these accounts shows that the Self/Other relationship must also take account of multiple other Selves and other Others. As I shall discuss shortly, processes that are intended to enhance the onto-security of the mainstream may marginalize these other Selves, placing them in situations of extreme ontoinsecurity – not only in relation to the Other, but also in relation to the Self. This regularly occurs in peace processes, in which attempts to mainstream the Self and Other fragment and alienate these other Selves, a process which often leads to further conflict and sometimes violence.

Violent peace in Northern Ireland   105

Transformative peace processes and onto-(in)security In the last two decades, there has been a marked shift towards transformative peace processes – that is, peace processes that are concerned with altering the entire structure of a polity, rather than simply ending violence (see Mitchell 2014). In many cases, an important aspect of the transformative project is to alter the primary Self/Other relationship such that conflict between its components is resolved. Transformative peace processes tend to be understood as a source of three forms of security. They promise physical security by ending overt physical and material forms of violence, and perhaps also by removing weapons from the hands of combatants. Moreover, they offer ontic security by stabilizing the social, material, economic and other conditions within a society (often, however, after substantially altering these conditions). Finally, they attempt to offer ontological security – for instance, by guaranteeing the continued existence of ethnic groups, or through framing peace itself as an affirmation of the categories that existing groups might consider to be ‘ontological’ (e.g. nations). Strategies such as the decommissioning of weapons and ceasefires are used to achieve the first form of security; processes of inter-personal reconciliation, cultural reconstruction and intra-group ‘confidence building’ are generally used to obtain the second; and the stability and preservation of peace itself is generally viewed as an indication of the third. However, I have argued (Mitchell 2010, 2011, 2012) that transformative peace processes can actually enflame insecurity on each of these dimensions, for several reasons. First, and most obviously, transformative processes are often overtly oriented towards altering or even removing forms of identity and cultural Selfexpression that are deemed to be central to conflict, a move which can create ontic insecurity. Moreover, in order to benefit from the ontic security offered by a transformative peace process, a group must be willing to adapt its concrete features – for instance, it structures, identity and norms – in order to align with those of the peace process. Crucially, in order to experience ontological security as a result of a peace process, this group must come to believe that the survival of its cherished ontological categories is subsumed within those of the peace process. For groups that are able to do all three of these things, the peace process enables a move to physical and ontic security. However, it is quite another story for groups or subgroups who face different conditions. Those who deem the existing ontic features of their worlds to be necessary and integral to the broader ontological categories in which they believe might experience the transformation process as a source of ontic and ontological threat. In other words, the other Selves within the primary relationship may become fragmented, alienated and threatened in ways that orient them towards physical violence. Moreover, peace processes may contribute to broad, contextual changes that alter the primary Self/Other relationship in a way that intensifies the perceived threat in either or both groups. I shall now explore two cases in which we can observe these dynamics in the Northern Ireland peace process.

106  Audra Mitchell ‘Dissident Republican’ violence2 Peace agreements demand a high degree of cohesion. Indeed, they function precisely by integrating conflicting groups into a shared set of normative and institutional structures. Often, this means that combatant groups must bring their organizations ‘in line’ with the peace process if they wish to have a meaningful stake in it. I have argued (Mitchell 2011) that transformative peace processes run on a logic very similar to the basic mathematical operation of division. That is, they divide conflicting groups into the peace process by dividing out sub-groups that do not fit with its aims or requirements. With each expansion of the peace process, more groups or parts of groups are divided in, and the ‘remainders’ become increasingly small. This was the model of the GF/BA, which emphasized the gradual integration of the major paramilitary organizations representing the primary Self/Other dyad of the Troubles (Republicans and Loyalists). Throughout the process, those groups that managed to identify themselves with the norms and ideals of the peace process attained significant ontic and ontological security, as well as benefiting from contextual conditions of increased physical security. However, many of those who could not square their identities with the peace process, or felt directly threatened by it, became marginalized as spoilers or dissidents within their own groups – that is, as other Selves. These other selves are placed under considerable threat on all three of the dimensions discussed here. The adoption of a new identity and organizational structure may threaten ontic security. Meanwhile, the relinquishing of metanarratives that formerly lent the group cohesion (for instance, the Republican goal of a united Ireland) may create ontological threat. Furthermore, in order to achieve the unanimity and cohesion demanded by formal peace processes, paramilitary organizations use employ a range of tactics – including persuasion, coercive command structures or even physical threats. This may create such intense conditions of threat amongst other Selves that they respond with violence. This was the case in Northern Ireland, where paramilitary leaders were compelled to deliver their organizations into the ‘peace process’ as units, and to guarantee their compliance with its rules and norms. However, despite their monolithic images, within the ranks of both Loyalist and Republican paramilitary organizations existed plural perspectives, many of which were repressed, excluded, or even physically eliminated in order to ensure the success of the ‘peace process’. Throughout its formulation and implementation, the GF/BA and the policies associated with it generated a range of responses amongst Republicans, from outright support to indifference to extreme opposition. The broad range of Republicans who did not agree with the Agreement, as I shall now discuss, tended to be framed as spoilers and, in extreme cases, as ‘dissidents’ by ‘mainstream Republicans’ (those formerly associated with the Provisional IRA or PIRA and the political party Sinn Fein). As such, a dichotomy has been created within public and policy discourses between ‘mainstream’ and ‘dissident’ Republicans. This dichotomy groups together a wide range of people – from conscientious dissenters to opportunistic criminals to youth angry at the police – as ‘dissidents’.

Violent peace in Northern Ireland   107 During the 1990s, PIRA/Sinn Fein associated actors made well-publicized attempts to quell normative objections to the peace process within its ranks. The logic behind this was quite obvious: dissenters needed to be controlled so that PIRA/Sinn Fein leaders could ‘deliver’ Republicans to the peace process and, in so doing, gain influence within it. A good example of this can be found in the case of Brendan Hughes, a prominent Republican prisoner, leader of the 1980 hunger strike and close associate of Gerry Adams. Hughes spoke out against the direction taken by PIRA leadership in the events leading up to the signing of the GF/BA precisely because he felt that it involved the suppression of dissenting voices. He openly opposed efforts by the PIRA leadership to block the re-entry of released prisoners into the organization if they were sceptical about the ‘peace process’ (Moloney 2010). Hughes became well-known for editing The Blanket, an online journal focused on the perspectives of ‘dissenting’ or ‘protesting’ Republicans. As a result of his sustained campaign of protest, he was ostracized and, he claims, spied on by the PIRA/Sinn Fein leadership. He claims that critical articles he wrote were censored by PIRA leaders (MacIntyre 2000) and that his apartment in the Divis Towers was bugged – not by MI5 agents, but rather by the PIRA (Moloney 2010). In addition, he believed that he was subjected to social, economic and political strategies of alienation. Another former Blanket editor, Anthony MacIntyre, reported similar treatment by mainstream Republicans. In a 2007 interview, he told me that PIRAaffiliated Republicans used the significant influence they had garnered amongst policy-makers, local employers and others to exclude those who did not comply with their policies. According to him, ‘the people who do not toe the line would find that they will not get jobs … alienation, marginalization and ostracization are all powerful weapons that [are] used against a dissenting voice’ (McIntyre 2007). Using tactics like this, the former PIRA leadership was able to construct a distinction between their own identity and the negative category of ‘dissident Republicans’, which was defined against it. This dichotomy was used by mainstream Republicans to affirm their influence in the peace process and to act as ‘gatekeepers’ for anyone else wanting to take part in it. Those groups that fell into the category of ‘dissidents’ found it increasingly difficult to break into the peace process, in particular by availing of the funding made available for conflict transformation initiatives. Policy-makers already had, at best, very limited trust for ex-combatant groups (Shirlow 2008; McKearney 2007) and were keen to place their money into ‘safe hands’ (that is, groups that would not use it to support violent or criminal activity). In this context, several non-PIRA Republican groups argued that PIRA-affiliated groups deliberately manipulated funders by labelling competitors as ‘dissidents’. As a result, one activist argued, policy-makers ‘formed the opinion that Sinn Fein Republicans were peaceful [and] could be counted on to support the peace process … but other organizations … were a potential risk’ (McKearney 2007). According to former INLA activist Fra Halligan, former PIRA-affiliated groups ‘wanted all the pie – they didn’t want us to get any of it. And they [told some officials] ‘if you give Teach naFailte [a former INLA prisoners’ support organization] money, the INLA will come in and take it and buy guns’ (Halligan 2007).

108  Audra Mitchell In the mid- to late 2000s, as fractures within the Republican movement began to proliferate, the former PIRA/Sinn Fein leadership began to take a much harder line against perceived ‘dissidents’. This was, in large part, a response to a spate of violent acts undertaken by non-PIRA/Sinn Fein Republican groups which came to prominence in 2009. It is beyond the scope of this discussion to provide a comprehensive list of the acts in question (for more details, see the work of journalist Suzanne Breen, cited in the bibliography), but a few examples will suffice. Perhaps the most salient incident took place at the Massereene Barracks in March 2009, when two soldiers were shot and killed, followed 48 hours later by the murder of PSNI Constable Stephen Carroll. In the ensuing months, this was followed by a wide range of attacks, threats, shootings and bombings, including highly-publicized bomb attacks on a courthouse in Newry and an Mi5 base in County Down in March 2010 (see Breen 2010a). Incidents of intimidation were also common during this period; for instance, a group of ‘dissident Republicans’ delivered letters to shops, cafés and businesses in (London) Derry advising them not to serve members of the PSNI (Breen 2010c). Moreover, in the same years, other ‘dissident Republican’ groups also engaged in a number of less overtly violent acts such as protests at Maghaberry prison (see BBC 2010c) and at the Belfast marathon (BBC 2010d). In a group interview with six PIRA-affiliated former prisoners in January 2010 (Sheehan et al. 2010), several different positions were articulated in relation to ‘dissident’ Republicans and their actions. One individual claimed that dissidents were ‘all criminals’, while another suggested that they were simply reviving the ‘old politics’ (that is, the Marxist ideology) of 1970s Republicanism, and another pointed to the politics of non-violent (but non-PIRA) protest movements such as Eirigi (see below). The latter two comments constitute an admission that some dissenting (if not strictly ‘dissident’) groups have a normative role within Republicanism, but the majority of attention to ‘dissident Republicans’ has not been as generous. Indeed, public responses to the acts of ‘dissident Republicans’ (see the following section) have underscored the demand for further excluding or eradicating the groups responsible. For instance, in a BBC News report, a PSNI Chief Superintendent was quoted as stating that ‘the people who carry out these senseless acts show a total disregard for their fellow man and are not part of the society within which the majority of people in Northern Ireland wish to live’ (BBC 2010a). This quote (inadvertently) reflects precisely the problem I wish to highlight: that the strategy of ‘long division’ leaves some other Selves so marginalized and alienated that they are no longer considered ‘part of the society’. This certainly does not excuse violent action, but it may help to explain it. This example illustrates several of the dynamics discussed above. First, it exemplifies the ambiguous relationship between ontic and ontological (in) security. For PIRA/Sinn Fein members, the peace process offered an opportunity to attain physical and ontological security if they were willing to change their ontic conditions – specifically, by transforming their combatant group into a political party and working to deliver the aims of the GF/BA. This faction was confident that buying into the peace process would guarantee the existence of

Violent peace in Northern Ireland   109 Republicanism, even if its basic empirical structures changed. For this group, the fundamental Republican aim of a ‘United Ireland’ seemed achievable through the political mechanisms of the peace process and parliamentary politics. However, for some other Republic groups, their ontic conditions – for instance, paramilitary structures capable of fighting the state, revolutionary norms and style of fighting – were necessary and integral to the aim of a united Ireland. This aim was regarded as a higher category that supervened upon and survived the Republican movement and its particular manifestations – that is, as an ontological category. In other words, for these groups, the ontic change in question was experienced as an ontological threat. This was compounded by the dynamics of fragmentation and threat within the Republican movement. ‘Dissidents’ of various kinds became visible and vocal other Selves that compromised the ability of the PIRA/Sinn Fein to ‘deliver’ Republicans to the peace process. They responded by creating conditions of physical threat (whether of violence, social or economic alienation) for many dissenters. The hard line taken by ‘mainstream Republicans’, in turn, prompted to a range of reactions – from relatively peaceful protests to brutal violence. It is crucial to note that I am not arguing that the groups discussed above ‘became’ the perpetrators of dissident Republican violence. Indeed, some of the organizations claiming responsibility for post-GF/BA violence (including groups like Oglaigh nah Eirann) formed only in response to the Agreement. My argument is that the logic of long division magnified a strategy of division and punishment that was already central to the PIRA. This exacerbated tensions within the movement, leading to a variety of violent and non-violent responses. Moreover, the formation of the catch-all term ‘dissident’ and the extreme pressure put on all nonconforming Republicans who were placed in this category, may very well have radicalized certain splinter groups. These groups faced threat on all three levels: physical, ontic and ontological. As the other Selves of the Republican movement, they faced these threats not only from the Other (Loyalists), but also from their own (perhaps former) Self, in the form of the Republican movement. This example demonstrates the importance of the distinction between ontic and ontological threat in the perception of actors in a conflict. In particular, it shows that different actors within a group might make very different evaluations of the link between their ontic conditions and the ontological categories in which they believe. It also suggests that, in order to understand violence around the fringes of a peace process, it is necessary to pay attention to the other Selves that already exist within the primary Self/Other, and may be further fragmented by the peace process. The Ulster Defence Association’s (UDA) dilemma of protection Violent acts by ‘dissident Republicans’ do not just threaten the success of the peace process. They also change the context in which the other Self in the primary Self/Other dyad – Loyalists – operate. Indeed, the series of violent acts mentioned above coincided with a period in which the UDA was expected to

110  Audra Mitchell undertake a series of transformations that would remove its traditional identity and perceived function in Loyalist communities. In Northern Ireland, Loyalist paramilitary groups have traditionally viewed themselves as providers of what Baumann (2006) calls safety:3 the ‘security of … bodies and their extensions, homes and their contents, streets through which bodies move’ (Bauman 2006, p. 138). They have enacted this role by usurping policing functions at a local level – for instance, by disciplining so-called ‘antisocial’ behaviour or mediating between paramilitary and/or criminal groups. Traditionally, the UDA has branded itself as a provider of safety in the form of physical protection and defence from Republican attacks at a local level, particularly where the state seemed unable to provide this (see Harris 2011; Southern 2011). However, the provision of this kind of ‘safety’ by paramilitary actors is usually regarded as a challenge to constitutional peace processes, which focus on the centralization of policing and coercive force. As such, paramilitary actors who engage formally with the peace process are required to relinquish their claims to provide localized protection as safety to their local communities in exchange for the physical, ontic and ontological security promised by the peace process. This required a leap of faith during a period of great uncertainty and instability in the primary Self/Other relationship. Such a leap might be possible in conditions of high physical security (for instance, if ceasefires have been effective) or high ontic security (for example, if the identity and structure of the Other are deemed to be relatively stable). However, according to the former UDA leaders that Sara Templer and I interviewed in 2009–2010, neither of these conditions was in place. Instead, they faced a leap that required, at least from their perspective, jeopardizing the physical, ontic and ontological security of their communities. This dynamic came to a head during the process of weapons decommissioning, which former UDA leaders were asked to take a prominent role in ‘delivering’. This process took place at a time of escalating ‘dissident’ Republican violence (see above). But former UDA leaders also faced internal instability as a result of actions by the organization’s own other Selves. During the late 2000s, a number of deaths were attributed to Loyalist paramilitary actors. They included: the killing of a Catholic man, Kevin McDaid, by an apparently Loyalist mob in Coleraine in May 2009; xenophobic attacks on foreign families living in neighbourhoods, identified with the UDA in South Belfast in 2009; and the fatal shooting, rumoured to be sanctioned by the UVF, of a man on the Shankill Road in May 2010. It was against this backdrop that the former UDA leadership was tasked with decommissioning its weapons and effectively disbanding itself as a paramilitary organization. Our respondents claimed that the confluence of these events created substantial physical and ontic insecurity within the communities that they claimed to represent. According to one prominent former UDA leader, this was because of ongoing disbelief that Republicans had surrendered all of their weapons, and the fear that they could resume violence at any time. He related a narrative that he perceives to be widely held within his community regarding the trustworthiness of the IRA decommissioning process in the 1990s:

Violent peace in Northern Ireland   111 [Republicans] on the border had been shooting people with his AK-47 for twenty years … And the truth is, [they] still has [their] AK-47[s] … I’d say that if we were to drive down the Falls Road and start shooting out of the windows of the car, do you think the IRA’s going to phone the police? We won’t get to the bottom of the hill; we’d be killed with the weapons they still have … they never want to be caught defenceless … (Mitchell & Templer 2012, p.227) A group interview undertaken with several members of the former UDA leadership in 2009 revealed similar fears: in the view of the leadership of the UDA and UPRG, it is not difficult for anyone to arm themselves: many residents of Northern Ireland have legallyheld weapons in their possession, and so anyone who wants a gun can easily find one, decommissioning or no decommissioning. (Mitchell & Templer 2012, p.421) This comment suggests that, for some Loyalists, physical insecurity was still a major issue. Moreover, and crucially, respondents in this project linked physical insecurity to ontic security. For our respondents, the continued survival (physical and material) of specific Loyalist communities depended upon their ability to defend themselves physically from attacks by dissident Republicans. In addition, the survival of these communities was linked to the broader fear that the metanarrative of British Northern Ireland might be destroyed by political change brought about by the peace process, in which our respondents felt they were treated as unequal partners in relation to former Republican paramilitary leaders. In this context, former Loyalist paramilitary leaders engaged in the same processes of ‘long division’ discussed above. These dynamics became publicly visible in the events surrounding the ‘Loyalist feuds’, which continued from the early to the late 2000s, in which ‘dissident’ Loyalists such as Johnny Adair, Billy Wright and individuals associated with the Loyalist Volunteer Force (LVF) were publicly disowned and disciplined by the leadership of their organizations (see Anderson 2004; Cusack & MacDonald 2000; Moloney 2010), who have since emerged as contemporary leaders and actors within the peace process. Many of these individuals were engaged in criminal acts such as drug dealing, and were ostracized on this basis. However, it was not just the overtly criminal elements of the UDA that were targeted in this fashion. In order to achieve the unanimity necessary to ‘deliver’ their communities into a peace process and to maintain its aims, organizations and movements used a range of tactics – including persuasion, coercive command structures or even physical threats. Moreover, like the Republican leaders discussed above, one of the ways in which former UDA leaders sought to prove their ability to protect the peace agreement/process was by actively identifying ‘dissidents’, or non-conforming elements who were likely to attempt to undermine the peace agreement/process. In the words of a former UDA brigadier,

112  Audra Mitchell it wasn’t them over there [the PIRA] against us. It was the people who supported the Good Friday Agreement against the people and the peace against those who didn’t. (Respondent 1 2010) This process of long division meant that the UDA leadership perceived threats to its ontic and physical security from the other Selves within the Loyalist movement and from the other Selves of the Republican movement as well as from the traditional Self/Other dyad (ironically, the last relationship was probably the least threatening during this period). However, our respondents felt that the attempt to ostracize criminal elements who associated themselves with the UDA backfired. Specifically, by highlighting these criminal activities, former UDA leaders found themselves feeding a media and political discourse which vilified Loyalists. For instance, one respondent claimed that Loyalists have been framed by the media as a ‘super-criminal gang’ before and throughout the peace process (Respondent 1 2010). Another stated that although he had ‘never had a conviction for anything … [but] my name is blackened, my name is mud locally’ (Respondent 2 2010). Another respondent stated that ‘even if we [Loyalists] invented a cure for cancer we would be regarded with suspicion’ (Group interview 2009). The problem of negative imagery was not just an issue of personal discomfort for our respondents; it was directly linked to ontic and physical security. Specifically, many of our respondents felt that negative public perceptions diminished their authority within the groups that they were expected to control and influence. This, in turn, led to the dilution of the UDA’s structures (ontic insecurity) and to less control over potentially violent elements within the communities it claimed to represent (creating potential for physical insecurity). As one respondent put it: there’s a continued IRA traditional armed force [‘dissident Republicans’] still being used against us, and our community and our home and our homeland and our estate and all the rest of it … You can only take that so long … [and] with the limited resources we have, and the lack of support we’re getting from those in power [former paramilitary actors] can only tell people for so long [to refrain from violence] … your respect and your credibility only lasts so long … and it’s pretty much at the last stick at the moment … it’s getting stretched … (Respondent 2 2010) As a result, he twice reiterated, things ‘could end up blowing up in our faces’ (Respondent 2 2010). Finally, being in this position raised a substantial ontological threat. Specifically, if Loyalist former paramilitary leaders were not able to deliver their organizations into the peace process and to fulfil its requirements, then they might find themselves excluded from it – or the peace process itself might fail. If either of these things happened, then this group would be left in a position of insecurity in all three dimensions – and without means of defending itself.

Violent peace in Northern Ireland   113 The example of the UDA and its role in ‘keeping a lid on Loyalism’ (Mitchell & Templer 2012) during the peace process sheds additional light on the analysis presented at the outset of this chapter. I have already discussed the risks faced by former UDA leaders in trading their existing sources of physical, ontic and ontological security (paramilitary structures and weapons) for the promises made by the GF/BA. In addition, it is important to note that contemporary discourses of Loyalism stress the ontological threat of the total dissolution of the British Northern Irish community. For Loyalists, this is a category that transcends their specific movements and organizations; it is ‘ontological’ in the sense described above. Loyalists worry that this might occur through formal political means, or through informal demographic change in which they are no longer in a majority position. So, the level of ontological insecurity for this group was, it seems, very high during a period of intense ontic and physical insecurity. This example also illustrates the issue of other Others, as discussed above. At first glance it might appear that former Loyalist paramilitaries were faced mostly with threats from the Other, or from its other Selves. But this is not quite the whole picture, for two reasons. First, the source of a great deal of the ontic and ontological threat perceived by our respondents did not derive from the primary Self/Other dyad. Rather, the Other was, in this case, the peace process itself. That is, it was the peace process that required the large-scale ontic changes that, my respondents feared, might leave them vulnerable to physical harm or even ontological destruction. At the same time, these vulnerabilities made our respondents feel that Loyalist communities were easy targets for ‘dissident’ Republicans and weakened their political position in relation to that of ‘mainstream’ Republicans. Second, as I have argued above, the ‘dissident’ Republican threat did not emerge directly from the primary Self/Other relationship. Instead, it was the result of the relation between one of the primary Selves and the peace process, which led to the fragmentation of this self. This, in turn, impacted on its relation with the Other (in this case, Loyalists). So, this example illustrates that attention to other Others is crucial if we are to understand persistent violence in the context of transformative peace processes.

Conclusions This brings us back to the start of this chapter, in which crowds of protesters associated with Loyalist organizations engaged in public violence in the streets of Belfast. As the analysis above suggests, this outburst of violence cannot be understood in terms of traditional conflict between Republicans and Loyalists, or as evidence that the peace process simply is incomplete. Instead, I have argued that the peace process itself promises physical, ontic and ontological security, but also engenders (in)security along these dimensions. These states of insecurity do not apply only to the two actors in the primary Self/Other relationship, but also to the other Selves within these groups and the other Others that form their context. This has several implications for analysts of violence and peace-building. First, it suggests that onto-security is, as Rumelili and others in this volume argue, crucial

114  Audra Mitchell to security and desecuritization. The example of the UDA’s decommissioning process exemplifies this: it was very difficult for this group to move into a nonmilitarized relation with its primary Other (Republicans) when its ontic and ontological security were at stake. Second, it suggests that the primary Self/Other dyad must be placed into a broader context. Specifically, I have argued that the peace process itself may act as a very different kind of other: a complex and impersonal set of structures and processes that encompasses and alters both Self and Other. It may fragment each Self, proliferating the other Selves within it. In so doing, it may multiply the Others with which each self has to deal (this is a third meaning of ‘other Other’ that emerges from the analysis above). The example of the formation of ‘dissident’ Republican groups and their responses to the PIRA/ Sinn Fein’s attempts to homogenize Republicanism illustrates this problem. These observations give the lie to the widespread belief that the peace process is neutral in relation to the violence and conflict that threaten it. Instead, it shows that all of these actors are caught up in complex dynamics of (in)security – physical, ontic and ontological – that relate to each other in complex and ambiguous ways. If peace-builders wish to move from the kind of ‘violent peace’ discussed above into a context of descuritization, much more attention should be paid to these dynamics.

Notes 1 In this chapter, I analyse how conflicting groups use ontic and ontological ways of thinking, but do not consider this way of thinking to be accurate or desirable. Indeed, the idea of metaphysical ontological categories produces essentialisms and exclusions that are detrimental to a pluralistic ethics, but this discussion is beyond the scope of this chapter. 2 The following two sections are reproduced with the permission of Palgrave Macmillan from Audra Mitchell, 2011, Lost in Transformation: Violent Peace and Peaceful Conflict in Northern Ireland. Basingstoke: Palgrave. The full published version of this publication is available from www.palgraveconnect.com/pc/ doifinder/10.1057/9780230297739 3 Of course, in practice, they regularly undermine safety by causing harm to their own members or, for instance, youths behaving in an ‘antisocial’ way. I mean to suggest only that they view this role of providing safety as integral to their own individual and group identities.

Bibliography Anderson, C. 2004, The Billy Boy: The Life and Death of LVF Leader Billy Wright, Edinburgh and London: Mainstream Publishing. Baumann, Z. 2006, Liquid Fear, Cambridge: Polity. BBC 2012, ‘Police Chief Urges Action as Violence Flares in Belfast’, BBC News, 4 September 2012. BBC 2010a, ‘Police Fired on at Railway Alert’, BBC News, 12 March, 2010. Available from: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/8578622.stm [23.4.2010]. BBC 2010b, ‘Timeline of Dissident Activity’, BBC News, 22 April, 2010. Available from: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/8638255.stm [22.4.2010].

Violent peace in Northern Ireland   115 BBC 2010c, ‘Republican Prisoners’ Maghaberry Protest Goes On’, BBC News, 5 April, 2010. Available from: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/8602628.stm [23.4.2010]. BBC 2010d, ‘Prisoner Group Holds Belfast Marathon Protest’, BBC News, 3 May, 2010. Available from : http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/8658233.stm [3.5.2010]. Belfast Telegraph 2012, ‘Belfast Flag violence: “Death Threat” against MP Naomi Long’, 7 December, 2012. Breen, S. 2010a, ‘Dissident Republican Attacks Since Masserene’, Sunday Tribune, 4 April. Available from: www.tribune.ie/news/home-news/article/2010/apr/04/dissidentrepublican-attacks-since-massereene/ [6.4.2010]. Breen, S. 2010b, ‘Brutal Murder of “One of Their Own” Shows Utter Lack of Mercy in Real IRA’. Sunday Tribune, 4 April, 2010. Available from: www.tribune.ie/news/ home-news/article/2010/apr/04/brutal-murder-of-one-of-their-own-shows-utter-lack/ [23.4.2010]. Breen, S. 2010c, ‘The Bloody Rise of the Dissident IRA’, Sunday Tribune, 4 April, 2010. Available from: www.tribune.ie/news/article/2010/apr/04/the-bloody-rise-of-thedissident-ira/ [23.4.2010]. Bryan, D. & Gordon, G. 2005, Transforming Conflict: Flags and Emblems, Belfast: Institute of Irish Studies. Cusack, J. & MacDonald, H. 2000, UVF, Dublin: Poolbeg Press. Graham, I. 2012, ‘Eight Police Injured as North [sic] Ireland Flag Protests Spread’, Reuters, 8 December, 2012. Halligan, F. (Teach naFailte) 2007, Personal Interview with Audra Mitchell, 23 March, 2007. Harris, L. 2011, ‘Quis Separabit? Loyalist Transformation and the Strategic Environment’, in Ulster Loyalism after the Good Friday Agreement, eds J. M. McAuley & G. Spencer, New York: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 87–103. Heidegger, M. 2008 [1927], Being and Time, New York: Harper Perennial Classics. McDonald, H. 2012, ‘Belfast Riots Over Flag Leave 14 Police Injured’, The Guardian, 4 December, 2012. McIntyre, A. 2000, ‘Interview with Brendan Hughes’, The Blanket. Online. Available from: http://indiamond6.ulib.iupui.edu:81/BH50208.html [3.5.2010] McIntyre, A. 2007,Personal Interview with Audra Mitchell, 31 July, 2007. McKearney, T. (EXPAC) 2007, Personal Interview with Audra Mitchell, 20 June, 2007. Mitchell, A. 2010, ‘Peace Beyond Process?’ Millennium Journal of International Studies, vol.38, pp.1–22. Mitchell, A. 2011, Lost in Transformation: Violent Peace and Peaceful Conflict in Northern Ireland, Basingstoke: Palgrave. Mitchell, A. 2014, International Intervention in a Secular Age: Re-enchanting Humanity?, London: Routledge. Mitchell, A. & Templer, S. 2012, ‘Paramilitaries, Peace Processes and the Dilemma of Protection: the Ulster Defence Association’s Role in “Keeping a lid on Loyalism”’, The British Journal of Politics and International Relations, vol.15, no.3, pp.416–434. Moloney, E. 2010, Voices from the Grave: Two Men’s War in Ireland, London: Faber. Sheehan, P., Docherty, J., Murphy, D., McVeigh, J., Eleanor [surname withheld] & Lynch, P. [Coistena-Iarchimi] 2010, Group Interview with Audra Mitchell, 21 January. Shirlow, P. & Brendan, M. 2006, Belfast: Segregation, Violence and the City, London: Pluto Press.

116  Audra Mitchell Shirlow, P. 2008, Politically Motivated Former Prisoners: Evaluation of the Core Funding Project 2006–2008, Belfast: Community Foundation for Northern Ireland. Southern, N. 2011, ‘Loyalism: Political Violence and Decommissioning’, in Ulster Loyalism after the Good Friday Agreement, eds J. M. McAuley & G. Spencer, New York: Palgrave Macmillan, pp.199–213. Walzer, M. 2004, Arguing About War, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Wendt, A. 1999, Social Theory of International Relations, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

6 Ontological (in)security of ‘included’ citizens The case of early Republican Turkey (1923–1946)1 Pınar Bilgin and Başak İnce Introduction When considered from today’s vantage point, attempts to create cohesive nationstates through forced migration and/or assimilation of peoples come across as sources of insecurity for all those affected (Krishna 1999). However, in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, both forced migration and assimilation were adopted as conflict-regulation measures. The assumption was that ‘cohesive’ nation-states would be less conflict-prone than others (see Joenniemi Chapter 7). Authors of the Lausanne Treaty (1923) between Turkey and the European great powers adopted such an understanding of conflict regulation when they agreed on exchanging population between Greece and Turkey. In the following years Turkey’s Republican leaders engaged in various spatial, economic and cultural practices in the attempt to create a ‘cohesive’ body politic. In this chapter, we highlight multiple in/securities experienced by myriad peoples in Turkey – including those who were forced to migrate and others who were encouraged to assimilate in the early Republican period. Different from other accounts that have focused on insecurities of those who were forced to immigrate or those who were encouraged to assimilate (see Çelik Chapter 3), we also look at the experiences of ‘model citizens’ of the Republic, those who were fully integrated (and/or assimilated). We utilize the concept of ‘ontological (in)security’ in accounting for the experiences of this latter group who, we argue, were also in/secured as they became less able to live with ‘difference’. We differ from the literature in another, equally important, sense. Different from those who look at this period in black-and-white terms (i.e. some were secured while others were insecured), we highlight in various shades grey, i.e. multiple in/securities experienced by myriad peoples. In offering this argument, we draw on critical approaches to security that understand the term ‘(in)securing’ to invoke a reflexive notion of security, cognizant of the ways in which our security practices produce insecurity as well as security, for ourselves and for others (Booth 1997; Bigo 2008; Burgess 2011). Through offering a reading of Turkey’s early Republican (1923–1946) citizenship practices as (in)securing peoples, we explore how becoming citizens of a modern nation-state generates both security and insecurity for individuals and social groups – albeit in different

118  Pınar Bilgin and Başak İnce ways.2 As such, our analysis of the consequences of the Treaty of Lausanne and the new Republic’s citizenship regime highlights their implications in terms of both securing and insecuring. In offering this argument, we introduce a threefold categorization that distinguishes between those who were not a part of the citizenship regime (those who were ‘excluded’ via Lausanne); those who were (in)secured as they approximated the citizen imaginary of the nation-state (the ‘included’); and those who were a part of the citizenship regime but were (in)secured by virtue of late(r) or limited access to full citizenship rights and/or lack of sense of empowerment to or experience in exercising those rights (‘the included/excluded’; i.e. those whose insecurities the literature has focused upon). In considering the ‘included’, we highlight how it was not only governmental practices per se but also the limits of recognition and respect for ‘difference’ in Turkey’s citizen imaginary that constituted the bounds of their (in)security (as well as the ‘included/excluded’ and the ‘excluded’). While it may come across as counterintuitive to consider the ‘included’ as insecure, they, too, have experienced ontological (in)security in unexpected (and heretofore unacknowledged) ways. Section I introduces the argument and elaborates on the notions of inclusion and exclusion beyond their customary understandings. Section II analyses governmental practices of citizenship during the early Republican period by looking at the spatial, economic and cultural aspects of a body of practices that sought to create a modern nation-state and a unified body of citizens to populate this state. These practices have secured all citizens through the building of a modern nationstate amidst the ruins of a fallen empire. Myriad citizens were insecured as these very measures narrowed the limits of recognition of and respect for ‘difference’. Insecurities of the included/excluded are widely recognized in the literature (see also Çelik Chapter 3), whereas two aspects remain underemphasized: that the same peoples were both secured and insecured (although in different ways); and that the ‘included’ were also in/secured – not in material but ontological terms. Section III highlights ontological (in)security of the ‘included’. Here we also point to the agency of the ‘included’ to highlight how they played a role in insecuring fellow citizens as they became less able to live with ‘difference’.

From subjecthood to citizenship: a process of (in)securing The institution of citizenship regimes against the background of decaying empires or colonial regimes is invariably celebrated as a moment of security. Be that as it may, such periods of transition from subjecthood to citizenship are riddled with insecurities. Writing about post-colonial contexts, Mahmood Mamdani (1996) has argued that the transition from colonial subjects to citizens of newly established nation-states has, on the one hand, allowed recognition of individual rights and liberties while, on the other hand, circumscribed those rights through categories and institutions that were remnants of the colonial machinery. Turkey’s citizens, too, were (in)secured as part of the transition from subjecthood to citizenship. The new Republic’s citizen imaginary secured peoples as citizens of an independent

Ontological (in)security of ‘included’ citizens   119 and sovereign nation-state. No longer were they subjects of an empire; nor did they face the danger of being subjected to the indirect rule or mandate regimes of European great powers. The Republic’s citizen imaginary also insecured peoples by limiting recognition and respect for difference. Different from those post-colonial contexts that Mamdani has focused upon, what subverted peoples’ citizenship rights in Turkey during the period under consideration was the Republican leaders’ sense of insecurity vis-à-vis international society. The Republic of Turkey was established on 29 October 1923 against the background of the decline and fall of the Ottoman Empire (1299–1919) and the ‘war of national liberation’ (1919–1922) waged against the European great powers that sought to incorporate Ottoman territories into their own domains following World War I (WWI). Accordingly, a sense of insecurity vis-à-vis the international society was not unfounded in that Turkey had just come out of a destructive war of liberation fought against European great powers and their regional proxies. Seeking solace in independence and development, they sought to strengthen the newly founded nation-state both as an idea and as an institution, internally and internationally. On 20 April 1924, the Grand National Assembly of the Republic of Turkey (GNA) adopted its first constitution. Governing citizenship was Article No.88: ‘The people of Turkey, regardless of their religion and race, are Turkish in terms of citizenship’. Sloganized as ‘one language, one culture, one ideal’, the citizen imaginary of this period glossed over ethnic and/or religious differences in the hope that virtuous citizens of the Republic would be inspired to unify. Put differently, what (in)secured Turkey’s citizens at the time was the perceived need to seek security through producing a cohesive body of citizens modelled on the other nation-states of the time. Indeed, Turkey’s citizenship practices in the early Republican era cannot be understood in isolation from the international and historical context. They were not uncharacteristic of the time in that other emerging nation-states engaged in similar practices during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.3 The basis of Turkey’s citizenship regime, i.e. seeking to establish a nation-state on the basis of exclusive notions of religious, ethnic and/ or national identity was also shared by international society and not merely newly established states (as with India, see Krishna 1999). The state-directed movement of ethnic groups was employed at the time as a form of conflict regulation (McGarry & O’Leary 1994). One of the most important techniques for regulating conflict was to move ethnic groups. Treaties ending the wars of this era invariably included clauses governing population exchanges. Groups that were considered to be (potentially) disloyal were relocated from one part of the state to another or were expelled from the state altogether (McGarry 1998, p.613). Those who were not forced to emigrate fled soon after. During 1918–1923, the Ottoman Empire received refugees arriving from the Balkan and Caucasian states and Russia (Shaw 1998). Most immigrants Turkey received between and 1923 and 1950 were objects of demographic engineering practices of the Balkan states (Tekeli 1990). The Lausanne Treaty was designed with the same rationale in mind. The population exchange between Greece and Turkey (the so-called Mübadele) was

120  Pınar Bilgin and Başak İnce approved by the European international society as a breakthrough attempt at conflict regulation (Beeley 1978; McGarry 1998; McGarry & O’Leary 1994). The point being that we do not mean to judge the early Republican citizenship regime for its imperfect politics of difference. Rather we insist that the Republican leaders’ choice for this particular citizen imaginary over other possibilities should be considered in the context of the notions and practices of citizenship, security and conflict regulation that prevailed at the time. As will be seen below, various insecurities that unfolded since then have laid bare the poverty of searching for security based on pre-given and exclusive notions of identity as such. Prevailing accounts look at Turkey’s early citizenship regime in one of two ways: by focusing on the founding texts such as the 1924 Constitution, or by focusing on identity politics. Those who focus on founding texts of the Republic point to the 1924 Constitution as marking a moment of security on account of having transformed subject peoples (of the Ottoman Empire) into citizens (of the Republic of Turkey) (Kili & Gözübüyük 2000; Kili 1969; cf. Bayır 2010). Indeed, Article No.88 of the 1924 Constitution made a break with the Ottoman past and laid the foundations of a citizenship regime. While a significant number of nonMuslims had, by then, left for Greece as part of the Mübadele, the remaining Greek Orthodox, Jewish and Armenian Orthodox peoples were formally included in the new citizenship regime as ‘minority’ citizens with equal rights.4 As such, the citizenship regime of the Republic included all those who lived within its territorial boundaries (with the exception of foreign nationals). Article No.88 was almost entirely adopted from the 1876 Constitution of the Ottoman Empire that read ‘People of the Ottoman Empire, regardless of their religion and race, are Ottoman tebaa [subjects]’. The difference between the two constitutions was unmistakable. The qualifier ‘in terms of citizenship’ was absent from the 1876 Constitution. Those accounts that focus on founding texts of the Republic acknowledge that there emerged a gap between what the 1924 Constitution laid down on paper and citizenship practices of this era. They nevertheless explain this gap as having been caused by the aberrations of some policy-makers, that is, exceptions to an otherwise inclusive citizenship regime (Kili 1984; Kili 2003; Kili & Gözübüyük 2000). Those accounts that focus on identity politics have, in turn, maintained that there is an exclusionary pattern to the above-mentioned practices (Yumul 1998; Caymaz 2007; Yeğen 2009). Accordingly they have viewed the early Republican period as a process of insecuring of some. Such practices included the withholding of women’s political rights until 1934; barring of non-Turkish speakers from government and private sector employment for many years; subjecting minority citizens to discriminatory treatment in war-time taxation and conscription; (re) settling immigrants and citizens in line with statist security concerns. As such, those accounts focusing on identity politics have considered insecurities of some but not all citizens. Furthermore, they viewed these practices as products of demographic engineering practices of successive governments but not as outcomes of a process of state-building and development whereby all citizens were secured and insecured in myriad ways.

Ontological (in)security of ‘included’ citizens   121 In an attempt to go beyond the prevailing accounts that explain the citizens’ predicament as mere aberrations of some policy-makers or demographic engineering, we offer a framework that focuses on the citizenship practices of state and non-state actors and highlights the multiple ways in which Turkey’s peoples were (in)secured. The argument here is that the citizenship regime of the period should be analysed not as a moment of security for all citizens (as accounts that focus on the founding texts argue) or as a process of insecuring of some (as argued by those accounts that focus on identity politics) but a process of (in) securing for all citizens. In considering myriad insecurities experienced by Turkey’s citizens, we draw upon Étienne Balibar’s (2005, 2008) elaboration on the notions of ‘inclusion’ and ‘exclusion’, offered against the background of the French banlieue riots in 2005. Dismissing media representation of rioters, who were mostly of North African immigrant origin, as ‘excluded’, Balibar emphasized that the rioters were not excluded insofar as their political and social rights were defined on paper. They were nonetheless excluded from the public sphere by virtue of a lack of sense of empowerment and/or experience in exercising those rights. In the specific context of Turkey, the best-known instance of ‘exclusion’ is the Mübadele (population exchange) treaty between Turkey and Greece in 1923 whereby Greek Orthodox Christians from Turkey left for Greece, and Muslims from Greece arrived in Anatolia. While the literature has emphasized the predicament of those who were ‘excluded’, the experiences of citizens who were (in)secured as they were included have largely gone under-examined.5 Drawing upon Balibar, the chapter offers a threefold categorization that distinguishes between those who were excepted through the Mübadele of 1923 and not accorded citizenship (‘the excluded’); those citizens who approximated the citizen imaginary by learning to check their differences at the door but in the process were (in)secured as they became unable to live with difference (‘the included’); and those citizens who were (in)secured through late(r) access to various rights and/or lack of sense of empowerment or experience in exercising such rights (‘the included/excluded’). This more nuanced categorization allows us to analyse the ways in which Turkey’s peoples were (in)secured, in different ways, as they sought to approximate or resist the citizen imaginary of the early Republican period. As will be discussed in Section II, insecurities of the ‘included/ excluded’ were caused by economic, spatial and societal practices of successive governments. Insecurities of the ‘included’, in turn, could be better understood as ontological (in)security. The latter have been (in)secured as they became lessthan-able to live with difference and, in some cases, (in)secured their fellow citizens.

In/securing the included/excluded: governmental practices In Turkey, the process of (re)territorialization of identity began with the declaration of Misak-ı Milli (National Covenant)6 in 1920, was sealed into law with the 1924 constitution, and written into space during early years of the

122  Pınar Bilgin and Başak İnce Republic. A key spatial practice of this period is invariably considered to be the Mübadele (population exchange) agreement with Greece. Whereas the Mübadele did not constitute a moment of security for those who were not excluded – as those accounts focusing on the inclusion/exclusion binary assume. Rather, the Mübadele marked the beginning of a process of (in)securing, which included the passing of various laws governing who would be allowed to emigrate to Turkey and where citizens would (re)settle; erasing remnants of past inhabitants through settling the muhacir (immigrants) in places vacated by the Armenian and Greek Orthodox subjects of the former Ottoman Empire; and the changing of place names throughout Anatolia. To start with the Mübadele, the population exchange agreement between Greece and Turkey was concluded on 30 January 1923, six months prior to the signing of the Treaty of Lausanne. Article No.1 of the agreement stipulated that the Greek Orthodox Christians living in Turkey would be exchanged with the Muslims living in Greece starting from May 1923. A further provision was that neither group would be allowed to return to their former places of residence without the permission of the respective governments. The agreement specifically exempted from the exchange those Greek Orthodox Christians living in Istanbul and Muslims living in Western Thrace.7 As a result of the Mübadele, the percentage of non-Muslims to the rest of the population shrank from 20 per cent (before WWI) to 2.5 per cent in 1924 (Keyder 1989). Non-Muslim subjects of the former Ottoman Empire who stayed within the territorial boundaries of the new Republic were included in the new citizenship regime. Subjecting citizens to state-directed movement and (re)settlement measures was by far the most far-reaching aspect of spatial practices of this era. During this period, Ankara governments passed two settlement laws governing who can immigrate to Turkey and become a citizen, and where citizens were allowed to (re)settle. In 1926, Law on Settlement No. 885 was adopted (Düstur, Tertip. 3, Cilt. 7, pp. 1441–1443). This law remained in effect until the more extensive Law on Settlement No. 2510 was codified in 1934 (Düstur, Tertip.3, Cilt.15, pp. 1156–1175). Article No. 2 of the 1926 Law of Settlement addressed the newly arriving immigrants. The law stated that people who did not belong to the ‘Turkish culture’ could not be admitted as immigrants or refugees. The centrality of concerns with language was due to the linguistic make-up of Turkey’s citizenry at the time.8 Not all immigrants arriving between 1923 and 1950 were Turkish speakers. In an attempt to create a unified body politic, Turkish-speaking immigrants were directed to settle in places where they were expected to help with diluting the non-Turkish speaking population. Non-Turkish-speaking immigrants, in turn, were settled in places that would help with their integration. The only exception to this practice was the settlement of Turkish-speaking immigrants in ‘securitysensitive’ areas (as with Eastern Thrace, on the border of Greece and Bulgaria). Turkey’s leaders clearly considered being a Turkish-speaker a central aspect of the Republic’s citizen imaginary. Those who did not fit or approximate this aspect of the imaginary were viewed as less trustworthy than those who did.9

Ontological (in)security of ‘included’ citizens   123 The Law on Settlement No. 2510 was less about settling the newly arrived immigrants as it was about (re)settling non-Turkish speaking and non-Muslim citizens of the Republic. Article No. 2 of the 1934 law read: Turkey is divided into three settlement zones: zone 1 are the areas deemed to be where the population of Turkish culture is dense … zone 2 are the areas separated for the migration and settlement of the population deemed to be assimilated into Turkish culture … zone 3 are the areas where settlement is prohibited owing to reasons related to health, economy, culture, politics, the military and security. (Düstur, Tertip.3, Cilt.15, pp. 1156) By way of dividing the country into three zones and (re)settling citizens based on their proximity to ‘Turkish culture’, the 1934 law sought, to quote GNA lawmakers, to ‘create a country speaking with one language, thinking in the same way and sharing the same sentiment’ (Ülker 2008). Whereas the Turkish language constituted the key component of the ‘Turkish culture’ as operationalized by the 1926 law, the 1934 law put emphasis on ‘lifestyle’. Article No.10 targeted the lifestyle of non-Turkish speaking nomads in general and the Kurds in particular and abolished all previously documented and recognized rights of tribal chiefdoms and sheikhdoms. Between 1934 and 1947, 25,831 people in 5,074 households from Tunceli, Erzincan, Bitlis, Siirt, Van, Bingöl, Diyarbakır, Ağrı, Muş, Erzurum, Elazığ, Kars, Malatya, Mardin and Çoruh (Artvin) were resettled in other parts of Anatolia. Of these towns, only Çoruh is on the Black Sea coast and was home to Hemshins, a Muslim nomadic community of Armenian-speakers. The Hemshins were transferred from Çoruh into internal regions. All of the other towns are located in eastern and southeastern Anatolia, and were, at the time, home to mostly Kurdish-speakers.10 Accompanying the two settlement laws were practices that sought to (re) territorialize identity by allowing the newly settled citizens to convert material culture. The Republican leaders had chosen to settle the muhacir in places vacated by the Armenian and Greek Orthodox subjects of the former Ottoman Empire, and gave these re-populated places a makeover. In the process, the remnants of past inhabitants were erased and the memories of those who were left behind were hurt. Another aspect of spatial practices adopted during this period was the changing of place names. During the War of National Liberation, place names were changed mostly for emotive reasons, as with newly liberated towns wishing to (re)claim space (Öktem 2008). The changing of place names became a feature of Republican leaders’ practices only after the break-up of Kurdish rebellions in southeastern Anatolia. During this period, renaming of places was not limited to Greek or Armenian place names but also encompassed those in Arabic and Kurdish as well. These changes were followed by further rebellions and eventually resulted in a major military operation in 1937, which left thousands dead and wounded. Hundreds of others were relocated to the Elazığ plain, a region that was considered easier to ‘control’.11

124  Pınar Bilgin and Başak İnce To recapitulate, spatial practices of citizenship adopted during this period were ultimately designed to (re)territorialize identity in Turkey. The desire to create a unified body politic through managing immigrant flows and their areas of settlement was unmistakable. However, (re)settlement of peoples were not isolated to immigrants but all those who had thus far failed to approximate the citizen imaginary. Indeed, the citizen imaginary of the Republic was forcibly imposed on peoples who were brought up in a nomadic lifestyle. Such imposition of a settled lifestyle, while allowing for the provisioning of peoples in terms of access to health services and education, at the same time rendered apparent the limits of recognition of and respect for (linguistic and lifestyle) difference in the new Republic’s citizen imaginary.12 Another significant body of practices was adopted in the realm of economy and targeted mostly ‘minority’ citizens. By the time the Republic of Turkey was founded, most of capital and business (including strategic industry and transportation networks) was in the hands of international capital and minority citizens (Keyder 1989). The muhacir, some of whom had been affluent at home, had not always been able to bring their capital with them and thus had to start their businesses from scratch (Tekeli 1990). During this period, the Republican leaders scrambled to generate job opportunities for the muhacir while seeking to transfer the control of the economy into the hands of the state and the newly emerging bourgeoisie. The context to these practices was set by the destructive effects of successive wars; lingering memories of the final years of the Empire and the Capitulations; the 1929 Great Depression; the onset of World War II (WWII) and measures adopted towards mobilization for the war. There were three main aspects to economic practices of citizenship during 1923–1946: the barring of minority citizens from civil service positions and various private sector jobs; encouraging (if not obliging) private business owners (minority and international capital) to employ Turkish speakers; and the ‘Wealth Tax’ (Varlık Vergisi) of 1942. We start with the barring of minority citizens from civil service positions and some private sector jobs: before 1926, minority citizens were only de facto barred from civil service positions; in 1926 their disbarment became de jure. On 18 March 1926, with Article No. 4 of the Civil Service Law No. 788 it was decreed that all civil servants must be ‘Turkish’ (Düstur, Tertip. 3, Cilt. 7, p. 669). In the early 1930s, a group of private sector jobs were also declared to be off limits to nonTurkish speakers (many of whom were minority citizens). Another aspect of economic practices addressed the private sector. On 10 April 1926, the GNA passed a law stipulating that all companies must keep their records in Turkish. On 22 April 1926, another law was passed, stating that ‘businesses should use the Turkish language’ (Aktar 2002, p.117). In so doing, the government was obligating private businesses owned by minority citizens and international capital to replace the non-Turkish speakers with Turkish speakers. Taken together these two sets of practices aimed at transferring private sector jobs away from non-Turkish speakers while at the same time barring them from civil service jobs. Third, the so-called Wealth Tax was introduced on 11 November 1942 (Resmi Gazete 1942, pp. 3965–3968). At the time of its introduction, the Wealth Tax

Ontological (in)security of ‘included’ citizens   125 was offered as an instrument of ‘social justice’, adopted to transfer wealth away from ‘war profiteers’ and help the poor by bringing inflation down. While Turkey had remained neutral during WWII, in 1939 approximately 1 million peasants and agricultural workers were called up for military service. This resulted in the rocketing of agricultural prices throughout the country, but overwhelmingly in the cities. In 1942 alone prices increased by approximately 350 per cent. While a great majority of Turkey’s citizens’ standard of living dropped dramatically, the thriving black market economy benefited some business owners, causing resentment against those who were portrayed as ‘war profiteers’. While not all ‘war profiteers’ were minority business owners, one could not always tell by government or media rhetoric (Akan 2011). In İstanbul, where a majority of the minority citizens lived, taxpayers were divided into two separate lists: the ‘M’ list for Muslim citizens, and the ‘G’ list for non-Muslim citizens (Gayrimüslim). Later, two more categories were added: ‘E’ for non-citizens (Ecnebi) and ‘D’ for converts (Dönme). This last category comprised members of the Sabetaist sect of Jews who had converted to Islam during Ottoman times. Citizens who were categorized as ‘converts’ paid about twice as much as Muslim citizens, while non-Muslim citizens paid up to ten times as much. ‘E’ category taxpayers, on the other hand, were expected to pay on a scale close to ‘M’ category for fear of alienating international capital (Akar 1992; Aktar 2002). The way in which the Wealth Tax was put into practice became a disgrace for to all those concerned. Tax assessments were made by local committees that consisted of local government officials, representatives of the local councils and of the chambers of commerce. No fixed rate was set. As a result, the tax burden was allowed to be borne almost wholly by business owners in the big cities, notably İstanbul, with 55 per cent of the total bill falling on minority citizens (Aktar 2002). To add to outrage, taxpayers were required to pay their taxes in cash and within 15 days of receiving their assessments. This often meant that in order to cover the bill, they had to sell their businesses and/or property under their market value. Those who were unable to pay had to work off their debt in a labour camp set up in Aşkale, Erzurum in Eastern Anatolia. Out of 40,000 tax debtors across Turkey, about 1,400, all of whom were minority citizens, ended up in labour camps ((Akar 2006; Akan 2011) cf. (Bali 2003)). The Wealth Tax was withdrawn in March 1944. The combined effect of the economic practices of citizenship of this period was far reaching. As capital was transferred away from the minorities to the state and the newly emerging bourgeoisie, and jobs were secured for non-minority workers, minority citizens were insecured as they were discouraged from imagining their future in Turkey. Those who had other opportunities chose to leave. Non-minority citizens also drew their lessons from the economic practices of the state: those who approximated the citizen imaginary were secured as they were rewarded economically via the transfer of jobs and capital. However, Turkey’s ‘included’ citizens were also insecured as they became unable to live with difference (see below, Section III). While spatial and economic practices were concentrated in the earlier years of the Republic and were gradually phased out from the late 1950s onwards, in the realm

126  Pınar Bilgin and Başak İnce of ‘culture’ successive governments adopted wide-ranging reforms some of which have found their way into the current (1980) constitution. In the 1920s, the new Republic’s cultural practices of citizenship had multiple components including the Turkish History thesis that sought to (re)claim space by writing it back into history and give a boost to citizens’ sense of ‘Turkishness’; language reform that involved the transition from the Arabic to the Roman alphabet and ridding Turkish of Arabic and Persian words; and changing peoples’ surnames into Turkish (Aytürk 2004). Most emblematic of them all for the purpose of this chapter is the introduction of a compulsory civic education course in primary and secondary schools. Since this course served the purpose of introducing, justifying and cementing all other cultural practices, this section of the chapter will focus on the civic education course. The name of the civic education course was Yurt Bilgisi (Homeland Knowledge). The title of the course itself constituted an instance of claiming space for Turkey’s citizens. The course textbook was entitled Vatandaş İçin Medeni Bilgiler (Civic Information for the Citizen) and was authored by Afet İnan, a historian and adopted daughter of Mustafa Kemal (Atatürk) (İnan 1931). At the time, İnan was teaching Yurt Bilgisi as well as history courses at secondary-school level. It is reported that Mustafa Kemal, upon seeing the Yurt Bilgisi textbook she was using, did not find it sufficient and asked her to write a new one. In the process, Mustafa Kemal ordered translations of French and German textbooks to be made, personally read them and gave dictation to İnan, thereby authoring significant portions of the book based on the synthesis he reached. Other textbooks were also produced during this period. In what follows, we focus on the İnan textbook, for its history as well as substance helps illustrate cultural citizenship practices of this period. The 1931 textbook’s notion of citizenship was a ‘civic republican’ one, defining citizenship within the parameters of solidarism and community. Whereas the ‘liberal’ definition of citizenship casts citizenship as a status involving rights accorded to citizens, the ‘civic republican’ definition casts it as a practice involving responsibilities to the wider society (Taylor 1989). Indeed, Mustafa Kemal had elsewhere explained the rationale for the civic education course as one of educating citizens about ‘the current duties and rights in their conduct of affairs among themselves and between them and the state, as well as general information on the organization of the state’ (İnan 1969, p. 7). Given the course’s objective of fashioning ‘civilized’ and ‘modern’ citizens, who would be ‘obedient’ to the Republic (İnan 1931, p. 7), the textbook put more emphasis on the duties and obligations of citizens towards the state and less on citizens’ rights. İnan later explained such de-emphasis on rights with reference to Mustafa Kemal’s thinking that every right should be complemented by a duty (İnan 1969, p. 8). Such emphasis on duty was expressed best by Ziya Gökalp (1876– 1924), the foremost public intellectual of the late Ottoman era as follows: ‘Do not say ‘I have rights’;/ There is only duty, not right’ (Parla 1985, p. 68). Suitably, the book listed the most important duties of the citizens: paying taxes, participating in elections, and performing military service (for men). The demands of solidarism and community meant the right to vote and get elected were represented as duties and not rights. The 1931 textbook reminded the students that since citizens live in

Ontological (in)security of ‘included’ citizens   127 a community where solidarity is crucial, they should take utmost care in making decisions that concerned common interests (İnan 1931, p. 128). At the time Turkey still had a single party system, but the students were being advised to vote in a virtuous manner. The Republican motto of this era, ‘one language, one culture, one ideal’, was inscribed into students’ worldview through the civic education textbook. The text’s emphasis on ‘one language, one culture, one ideal’ translated into a less than accepting attitude towards all those who failed to approximate the Republic’s citizen imaginary. Regarding the non-Turkish speakers, the textbook said: In the current political and social unity of the Turkish nation, some of our citizens are being encouraged to adopt a Kurdish, Circassian, Laz or Bosnian identity, but these misnomers, which are remnants of an autocratic period from the past, have caused nothing but misery among these individuals, with the exception of a backwards and brainless few. For these members of the nation also share the same common past, history, ethics and law. (İnan 1931, p. 16) Here is what the book said about the minority citizens: Under the noble ethics of the Turkish nation, who could expect these citizens of christian [sic] and jewish [sic] origin to be looked down upon as ‘foreigner’ as long as they have willingly tied themselves to the Turkish nation? (İnan 1931, p. 16) That the nature of the relations with the minorities was described in terms of tolerance and hospitality but not recognition or equality gave away the textbook’s limitations in recognizing and/or respecting difference. Peoples of myriad religious and/or ethnic origins could become ‘included’. The ticket of entry was willingness to approximate the Republic’s citizen imaginary. Such willingness was to be exhibited through checking one’s ‘differences’ at the door. As such, besides serving an educational purpose, the textbook also constituted an instance of the Republican leadership’s stratagem for bolstering the new state and creating a ‘cohesive’ body of citizens. To recapitulate, the citizen imaginary of the Republic was written in the civic education textbook more by his/her duties than his/her rights. Emphasis was placed on solidarism and community but not individual rights and liberties. As with other newly founded nation-states, in Turkey, too, the citizen was ‘regarded as, at best, an eventually educable ward and, at worst, someone prone to derail the national journey with his irrational and provincial proclivities’ (Krishna 1999, p.15). The foregoing outlined the predicament of Turkey’s ‘included/excluded’ citizens who were (in)secured as a consequence of spatial, economic and cultural practices of successive Ankara governments. Different from the prevailing accounts, we pointed to the ways in which same practices have secured and insecured the same body of citizens, albeit in different ways and to different degrees. What often goes

128  Pınar Bilgin and Başak İnce unacknowledged is that the practices that (in)secured Turkey’s citizens were not always governmental but also practices adopted by the ‘included’. In Section III, we highlight another overlooked aspect of Turkey’s citizens’ experiences, the ‘included’ who experienced ontological (in)security. That some ‘included’ citizens also participated in activities that insecured their fellow citizens further complicates the already complex (in)securing predicament of Turkey’s citizens.

Ontological (in)security of ‘the included’ Turkey’s ‘included’ citizens, as products of the citizen imaginary of the Republic, were (in)secured as they became unable to address difference without turning it into otherness – to paraphrase William Connolly (1991). This section focuses upon the ways in which ‘the included’ were (in)secured as some of them evolved into agents of (in)security towards the ‘included/excluded’ while others were complicit in their silence. What follows outlines the so-called ‘Citizen, speak Turkish!’ campaign. The campaign was particularly significant in that it was not the Ankara government, but citizens’ groups who organized the campaign. While social groups (including NGOs) got involved in the economic practices directed against minorities (as with the petition of the Waiters’ Association, or the newly created bourgeoisie’s connivance in the making of the Wealth Tax, see above) a wider group of individuals and social groups were involved in the case of the ‘Citizen, speak Turkish!’ campaigns. It may come across as counterintuitive to consider ‘the included’ as anything other than ‘secure’, chiefly in view of how some of them emerged as agents of insecurity vis-à-vis fellow citizens. Be that as it may, Turkey’s ‘included’ citizens’ rigid responses to expressions of ‘difference’ could be viewed as an instance of their ontological (in)security. The notion of ‘ontological security’ refers to security of an individual’s identity; his/her drive to maintain who s/he is when faced with challenges (McSweeney 1999; Mitzen 2006b; Mitzen 2006a; Steele 2005; Steele 2008). In the face of challenges, individuals routinize their behaviour. They do this in an attempt to avoid questioning their sense of self each and every time such a challenge occurs. In maintaining their routines, some individuals are more rigid/ flexible than others. While those who are more ‘rigid’ remain attached to their routines regardless of the challenges they are facing, those who are more ‘flexible’ are able to question their routines and adapt as necessary. Turkey’s ‘included’ citizens’ rigid responses to expressions of ‘difference’ (as evinced by individuals’ and social groups’ active participation in the ‘Citizen, Speak Turkish!’ campaigns, or their silence about insecurities experienced by minority citizens during the so-called ‘Wealth Tax’ incident of 1942)13 could be viewed as an instance of their ontological (in)security. Since Turkey’s ‘included’ citizens’ sense of self was a product of a social imaginary that is not accepting of ‘difference’, they came to view expressions of resistance to the citizen imaginary as a challenge to their sense of self. Accordingly, Turkey’s ‘included’ citizens’ indifference towards (if not agency in the production of) insecurities of fellow citizens, as will be illustrated below, could be viewed as an instance of their ontological (in)security.

Ontological (in)security of ‘included’ citizens   129 The ‘Citizen, speak Turkish!’ campaigns emerged in a context shaped by cultural practices of the Republican leadership. That the campaigns were designed and executed by non-governmental actors highlighted the limits of recognition of and respect for difference among ‘the included’. The first step in the ‘Citizen, Speak Turkish!’ campaigns was taken by the Students’ Association of the Faculty of Law in İstanbul. On 13 January 1928, the Students’ Association organized a campaign aimed at preventing the use of languages other than Turkish in public places (Bali 2003, p. 135). The students put up signs and accosted people speaking foreign languages in public places. The signs read: ‘We cannot say Turk to people who do not speak Turkish’ (Bali 2003, p. 270). The campaign led to tension and conflict, as it did not merely suggest that everyone in Turkey should speak Turkish, but it actually threatened non-Muslims in an attempt to make them speak Turkish. Some activists instigated court cases against non-Muslims who spoke languages other than Turkish, citing Article 159 of the Turkish Penal Code about ‘insulting Turkishness’ as their legal justification (Orhon 1941, pp. 1–3). Some went insofar as to call for, ‘Either speak Turkish or leave the country’. While the ‘Citizen, speak Turkish!’ campaigns were entirely in line with what the Republican leaders encouraged under the slogan ‘one language, one culture, one ideal’, the forceful methods utilized by the youth was disapproved by Ankara as voiced in the media. As the campaigns turned violent, the government intervened and called for a halt (Aslan 2007). Still, various non-governmental actors throughout the country revived these campaigns well until the 1940s. By the end of the ‘Citizen, Speak Turkish!’ campaigns, Jewish communities in Bursa, Edirne and Kırklareli adopted Turkish as their ‘native tongue’ (Orhon 1941, p.107). The Christian community followed suit and, in 1935, Monsignor Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli, then the Catholic Church’s apostolic delegate in İstanbul and later the reformist Pope John XXIII, preached sermons in Turkish for the first time (Bali 2003, p. 273). During the 1940s, the number of citizens who could be spotted by the language they spoke was decreasing sharply (Bali 2003, p. 140). What was significant about these campaigns for the purposes of this chapter is the way it revealed the (active) agency as well as (passive) complicity of individuals and social groups in (in)securing fellow citizens. It was not only the Students’ Association or Turkish Hearths but also people in the street who were a party to the campaigns. To recapitulate, early Republican citizen imaginary sought to produce a body of citizens that subscribed to ‘one language, one culture, one ideal’. What we call Turkey’s ‘included’ citizens are peoples of myriad origins who learnt to check their ‘difference’ at the door as they entered the public realm and be ‘successfully’ moulded into the citizen imaginary of the Republic. In the process, however, ‘the included’ adopted rigid responses to expressions of ‘difference’ as evinced by individuals’ and social groups’ active participation in the ‘Citizen! Speak Turkish!’ campaigns or their complicity in silence about insecurities experienced by minority citizens during the so-called ‘Wealth Tax’ incident of 1942. That said, such participation (be it active or passive) in (in)securing fellow citizens could be read as an instance of ‘included’ citizens’ ontological (in)security. As such, Turkey’s ‘included’ citizens emerged as both agents and referents of in/security in the early Republican period.

130  Pınar Bilgin and Başak İnce

Conclusion Our everyday notions of security and citizenship rest on a binary that defines lack of access to citizenship as insecurity. Be that as it may, it is possible for peoples to be (in)secured as they become citizens. This is not to underestimate the significance of Turkey’s Republican transformation. Nor is it to overlook the ways in which citizenship allowed betterment to the lives of Turkey’s peoples. Rather, what the chapter has sought to highlight is the ways in which the transition from subjecthood to citizenship is less a moment of security than a process of (in) securing through which citizens experience security as well as insecurity. In Turkey’s context, what subverted citizens’ rights was Republican leaders’ remembrance of the Capitulations and the post-WWI attempts by European great powers to break up the Ottoman Empire warranted by their claim to ‘better’ rule. In the attempt to create a strong, independent sovereign nation-state and thereby removing the grounds for external intervention, Republican leaders utilized citizenship as an idea, as an institution and as a discourse. While doing so, they adopted policies that did not always treat people as citizens with rights who participate in their own governance but as populations who are the subject of policy (Chatterjee 2004), hence our preference for a threefold categorization of ‘excluded’, ‘included/excluded’ and ‘included’ in understanding early Republican citizenship practices. This categorization, and the notion of ‘included/excluded’ in particular, allows us to understand the ways in which myriad peoples were (in) secured in the transition from subjecthood to citizenship. In offering this argument, we differ from the prevailing accounts in two ways. First, we analyse early Republican practices as in/securing of Turkey’s citizens, i.e. considering multiple ways in which the same body of citizens were secured and insecured. Second, we look at the ontological (in)security of a body of citizens who are assumed to be secure and therefore explained away. Indeed, it is often the predicament of the minorities that is examined by prevailing accounts (by virtue of the gap between what the 1924 Constitution provided and what actual practices resulted in). However, it was not only minority citizens who were (in)secured but also those who sought to approximate the citizen imaginary, the ‘included’. The latter experienced ontological (in)security in that they had to check their differences at the door as the price for entry into the public realm to exercise their citizenship rights, thereby becoming less-than-able to live with ‘difference’.

Notes 1 Previous versions of this chapter were presented at the Workshop on ‘Ontological Security and Conflict Resolution’, Koç University, March 2013 and CRASSH Conference on ‘Dismantling Security’, University of Cambridge, June 2012. The authors would like to thank conference/workshop organizers and participants for their comments and advice. 2 We have chosen to limit our analysis to the single party period (1923–1946) not because we consider the transition to multi-party regime (in 1946) to have brought about significant changes in Turkey’s citizenship regime. Rather, focusing on this early period allows dissecting (in)securities tied up with this process of transition.

Ontological (in)security of ‘included’ citizens   131 3 Compare Indian (Krishna 1999), Turkish and Finnish experiences (Joenniemi Chapter 7) in terms of conjectural similarities and ‘cultural’ differences. 4 The Treaty of Lausanne accorded juridical ‘minority’ status to Armenian and Jewish peoples as well as Greek Orthodox Christians some of whom were exempted from the population exchange. No other peoples were recognized as minorities by law. For example, Antioch Rum Orthodox Christians and Syrian Orthodox Christians (Süryani peoples) were not accorded minority status. 5 The emerging literature on Kurds in Turkey may be considered an exception to this generalization. The following understand their predicament as an aspect of (in)securing citizens in the early Republican era. 6 Issued on 17 February 1920 by the last Ottoman Chamber of deputies meeting secretly in İstanbul, which was then under allied occupation, Misak-ıMilli (National Pact) is a document expressing the nation’s will to (re)gain sovereignty and independence. 7 Article 1 of the agreement read: ‘Turkish citizens living in Turkish territories would be exchanged with Muslim Greek citizens living in Greek territories starting from May 1923, and that none of them could return to the places they formerly lived without the permission of the respective governments’. The agreement specifically exempted from the exchange Greeks living İstanbul (about 100,000) and Muslims in Western Thrace (Hirschon 2005, p. 3). 8 ‘According to the national census of 1927, Turkish was not the native language of around 28 percent of the city’s [İstanbul] population’ (Aslan 2007, p. 250). 9 While the Republic embraced secularism early on, Islam continued to play a role if not overtly, in defining the citizen body. An instance of the centrality of Muslimhood to the Republican leadership’s concept of ‘Turkishness’ was observed when the Turkishspeaking Gagauz requested to emigrate to Turkey from Russia. They were not allowed in by virtue of their Christianity, for the Republican leaders believed that it would be difficult to ‘assimilate’ them (Somel 1997, p.91). 10 In the case of those who were forced to resettle for security reasons following uprisings in 1925 and 1937, their lands in zone 3 were confiscated and were directed to resettle in zone 2. Following the transition to a multi-party regime in 1946, those who were forced to migrate in the 1930s were allowed to return with a law passed in late 1940s (Tekeli 1990). 11 During the 1940s, preparations began to be made for a large-scale name change action throughout the country. With Law No. 5542 passed in 1949, such changes were given a legal basis in national legislation (Öktem 2008). 12 Mesut Yeğen (1999) reads the term lifestyle as a code word for Kurdish in the official lexicon. That said, such an unaccepting attitude towards different lifestyles constitutes an instance of (in)securing for all nomads. While (re)settlement allowed access to education and healthcare, at the same time it erased nomadic aspects of culture. 13 Equally significant is the so-called 6–7 September riots against non-Muslims in 1955.

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Part III

Peace and ontological security

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7 Ontological (in)security after peace The case of the Åland Islands Pertti Joenniemi

Introduction The Åland Islands Question was already settled by the League of Nations (LN) in 1921 but the verdict has not been followed up by processes of reconciliation. In searching for a compromise in a dispute between the newly independent Finland and Sweden concerning the sovereignty of the Islands, the League ruled that the Islands should remain part of Finland. Åland, consisting of thousands of islands and skerries scattered across the entrance to the Golf of Botnia, should not be reunified with Sweden as an overwhelming majority of the islanders hoped for, regarding Sweden as their historical ‘mother’ country. Instead of being provided with a fully Swedish national identity as hoped for by the Ålanders, they were granted an autonomous standing accompanied by various economic, cultural and linguistic rights. In addition, the Islands were to remain demilitarized and neutralized. With both Finland and Sweden accepting the ruling of the League of Nations, Åland thus stands for a rather successful case of conflict resolution. It appears, however, at a closer inspection that the conflict was re-routed rather than settled. While solving the dispute and preventing outbreak of violence, the settlement was conducive to a self-sustaining pattern of identity-related tensions between Åland and mainland Finland. As such, the League of Nations recognized that the dispute was largely ontological in nature and pertained to the stability and consistency of the selfnarratives at play. As a solution, the islanders were provided with an exceptional standing as a co-sovereign entity within Finland, although culturally related to Sweden rather than Finland. In essence, the Ålanders could not turn into an ordinary and local entity with a firm and unambiguous national belonging but were instead compelled to redefine themselves as an entity out of the ordinary, and also as something quite different from their initial aspirations. On the one hand they had to abandon the idea of joining Sweden and accept that a crucial aspect of their essence consisted of being part of Finland as to national belonging, and on the other hand they had to come to terms with their new standing in remaining in some regard distinctly different from the mainland.

138  Pertti Joenniemi A major aspect of such a re-positioning has consisted of furnishing the new standing of the Islands with existential significance. Routines have been developed ‒ by drawing in particular on efforts of safeguarding autonomy as well as the various economic and cultural rights allotted to the Islands ‒ that allow for coping with the anxieties caused by the unexpected settlement of the dispute. Crucially, the routines developed have been premised on staying aloof from efforts of reconciliation. Instead of accepting Finland as the new ‘motherland’, the mainland has been positioned as Åland’s significant Other and depicted as an entity conducive to various primarily cultural fears needed for Åland to gain an ontologically stable and safe standing. The aim here is thus to probe how the Islands have utilized the setting created by the League of Nations and the role of disputes between mainland Finland and Åland in their search for secure and stable identities. However, in addition to focusing on strains as a source of ontological security the attention is also geared towards the more recent changes detectable in the overall frame underpinning Åland’s being. This is warranted as European integration and in particular the Islands joining the European Union in 1995 (as part of Finland) have significantly altered the initial setting. In fact, Åland’s membership implies that two rather different approaches to conflict resolution, one providing the Islands with regional autonomy as well as some guaranteed economic, linguistic and cultural rights and another premised on far-reaching integration, interdependence and abiding to supra-national ‘European values’, have to be squared. While the questions of similarity and difference and belonging or non-belonging to the Finnish nation have stood out as central in the sphere of Ålandish-Finnish relations, these issues appear to have lost in importance in an EU-related context, this then pointing to some discontinuity in the containment of Åland’s identity-related anxiety. In essence, European integration and EU-membership have opened up the option of constructing different self-narratives. It appears that the previous notions pertaining to the exceptionality of the Islands may be traded for increased normalcy. A decoupling from the previous frame would turn them into a polity located within the new and basically non-problematic setting, or a setting that is at least problematic in a different manner. Such a re-framing could amount to reconciliation, although it is also conceivable that Åland endeavours to pursue its old policies of contestation within the new EU-related context. In any case, European integration stands for disruption and provides an altered setting for the unfolding of Finnish-Ålandish relations. The aim here is therefore also to explore the way these relations have been developing under conditions that unavoidably alter the meaning of sovereignty, autonomy, civic and economic rights as well as demilitarization as ingredients important for Ålandish self-understanding and hence also for the relations between the Islands and mainland Finland.

Similarity as a problem, difference as a solution Notably, Sigmund Freud’s invocation of the ‘narcissism of minor differences’ (Blok 1998) appears to offer insight into the interplay between similarity and difference that appears to be relevant and constitutive also on the part of Åland.

Ontological (in)security after peace   139 Similarity in terms of being part of Finland as a state is acceptable as such, albeit it is at the same time crucially important for the Islands that there is also space for dissimilarity. Efforts to impose full similarity, i.e. doing away with their exceptional features, are bound to meet profound resistance in endangering the differences that form the backbone of Åland’s very being. In sum the islanders tend to feel ontologically safe as long as mainland Finland can on some possible grounds be suspected of aspiring to undermine their deviant standing in order to restore the country’s national unity. The threat of a breach regarding the rules set by the League of Nations pertaining to autonomy, various economic and cultural rights or for that matter demilitarization has, despite Finland’s acquiescence, has been viewed as a conceivable option. Moreover, while Finland can at least in principle be expected to resist any aggravation of Åland’s deviant position, the Islands have been endowed with an interest in not just defending their exceptional posture. They may for good reasons also endeavour to add to their special rights in the context of the various disputes between the Islands and mainland Finland that are bound to occur taking into account the nature of the Finnish-Ålandish relationship. The various tensions are there as an essential source of ontological security in testifying that the Islands exist as a distinct entity, part of Finland, albeit on terms of their own. In depicting themselves as a special case, the Islands can actually draw upon a considerable historical legacy as an off-shore entity that is in some regards quite peripheral but also of importance due to their strategic location in the northern Baltic Sea. Already Russia’s defeat in the Crimean War implied, in one of its aspects, that Åland was elevated above anything merely local in being provided with features of internationalization. The term ‘neutralized’ used in the 1856 convention between France, England and Russia implied that the Islands were, as a geographically limited domain, exempt from various military activities. Their demilitarized and neutralized standing has on occasions been challenged but it has nonetheless stood the test of time. Their character as an entity at the sidelines of European power politics has been further strengthened by the fact that the islanders have been exempted from compulsory military service, applicable to the rest of Finland. Neutralization and demilitarization have actually turned into departures providing the Islands with a special standing. This implies, and the verdict of the League of Nations has further added to it, that security works in an unconventional way on the part of Åland. Being securitized in a normal manner would actually deprive the Islands of their special nature. The successful brokering of the League of Nations further enhanced the Ålandish interest to stay aloof and go against ordinary efforts of securitization and instead search for ontological safety under the shelter of the label ‘the Islands of Peace’. In addition to indicating that the Islands are indeed special in character, the latter label has furnished Åland with some normative capital to be utilized in various contexts. Their alleged peacefulness has been further bolstered by a rather active peace movement as well as the establishment of a peace institute. The label has contributed to a considerable number of researchers, delegations of political decision-makers and civil society

140  Pertti Joenniemi movements visiting the Islands in order to become familiar with ‘the Islands of Peace’ (Granlund 2010; Spiliopoulou Åkermark 2011). The Islands are in general betwixt and between and they have been difficult to categorize in any clear-cut and bifurcated terms. Their conceptual dislocation as a rather small community with some 28,000 inhabitants has then been reflected in many of the concepts used in describing the essence of the Islands. There has thus been a frequent resort to concepts such as ‘ö-riket’ (realm of Islands) and ‘archipelago’ or talking simply about Åland without any detailed effort of defining the essence of the Islands. It has often been pointed out that they have a particular quality (‘särart’) and that they are endowed with an ability and willingness to selfgovernance (‘självstyrelsevilja’). There has also been talk about the Islands as a ‘nation’; they have been viewed as a ‘minority’ and Åland has often been depicted as a ‘region’. To be sure, the autonomy granted by the League of Nations adds significantly to their particularity. It implied that the Islands were provided with a Legislative Assembly and a Provincial Government of their own. In terms of cultural rights and for the cultural homogeneity of Åland to be preserved, Finland guaranteed the right to use Swedish as the only official language (whereas Finland is in general bilingual with Finnish and Swedish as the two national languages). The special character of the Islands was further bolstered when the Ålanders were provided with a kind of regional citizenship in the form of a right to domicile entitling them to the enjoyment and exercise of several individual rights. It was also decided, as one aspect of the co-sovereignty of the Islands, that their Autonomy Act cannot be amended – in being internationally guaranteed – by the Finnish Parliament without the consent of the Legislative Assembly of the Islands. Any international treaty affecting the autonomy of the Islands must be approved by the Ålandic Assembly. More generally, the Assembly and the Ålandish Government have wideranging executive power within Åland’s autonomy covering for example the fields of healthcare, education, agriculture, communications and culture. The distinctiveness of the Islands has also been reflected in that one seat in the national Parliament is reserved for an Ålandish representative. The arrangement constitutes, in fact, the only regionalist element in the Finnish Parliament. Furthermore, the specificity of the Islands has been bolstered by the fact that since 1954 Åland has had a flag of its own, since 1984 a separate postage stamp and from 2003 onwards its own postal administration. More recently it has obtained Ålandish number plates and an internet suffix (ax) delineating the Islands as something also distinct in the virtual world. Yet it may also be noted that Åland has failed in some of its other efforts of adding to its specific being such as having coins of its own, turning into a site for internet gambling, aspiring for special legislation allowing the establishing of casinos or the initiation of a specific Ålandish register for ships. The outcome is yet of ontological significance in providing credence to the claim that the policies pursued by mainland Finland unduly restrain the development of the Islands. The Islands have also a distinct international standing as evidenced among other things by Åland being represented in the Nordic Council and in being able to

Ontological (in)security after peace   141 directly influence decisions on matters affecting the Islands in the Nordic Council of Ministers (Nauclér 2005). Regarding the EU, Åland has been able to carve out special arrangements in the context of the Islands becoming part of the Union. They have, more generally, been treated in an exceptional manner by various external actors, above all Finland and Sweden, this then making the Islands an anomaly within the broader political landscape. Overall, they have displayed considerable subjectivity despite their rather remote and insular location, small size and limited resources as indicated among other things by their well anchored international standing as well as their becoming one of the most affluent parts of Europe.

A centre of its own? Importantly, also the Finnish Foreign Ministry has participated – although on occasions somewhat reluctantly ‒ in the spreading of information regarding the Ålandish case. The Ministry has done so above all by organizing a seminar on Åland as an example for peaceful governance in New York in 2001 (UM Publications 2001) and similar seminars have then also taken place in Brussels and Geneva. The model value of the Ålandish solution has in this context consisted primarily of the autonomy granted to the Islands as also testified by the report prepared by the Council of Europe on autonomous regions as a source of conflict resolution (Gross 2003). Crucially, it appears that the alleged peacefulness of the Islands does not just stand out as something testifying to the positive aspects of their deviant position and more generally a constructive way of channelling anxiety. It has also brought Åland and mainland Finland together within an international and cooperative setting with both of them interested in spreading the message that the ambiguity of the Islands is not conducive to conflicts but amounts instead to peaceful relations. It also adds favourably to Finland’s foreign policy profile in allowing the country to present itself as a flexible and tolerant polity supporting rather than rejecting as well as resisting pluralism and multicultural developments (Spiliopoulou Åkermark 2010, p.231). With Finland increasingly branding itself as an active mediator in the context of various drawn-out wars and conflicts (Joenniemi 2013), Åland has gained a positive reading in the sense of providing credence to Finnish aspirations on the international scene. This favourable view then also implies that mainland Finland is prepared to accept and align itself with the self-image that the islanders are advocating, and thereby also to abide to the Ålandish version concerning the normative principles and de-securitized departures grounding the position of the Island as a polity. The broad interest in Åland’s special position, and in particular the autonomy of the Islands, has also been present in the field of international law. In fact, Åland has gained a rather distinct international reputation well known particularly among scholars of international law. ‘Every international lawyer has heard about the Islands’, claims for example Sarah Stephen (2010, p.7). Legal arguments have also been extensively applied by the Ålanders in defence of their standing.

142  Pertti Joenniemi Overall, Åland appears to have succeeded in its efforts of bracketing out existential questions and channelling anxieties, although the ontological question of ‘who are we’ still prevails and is constantly on the agenda. Sia Spiliopoulou Åkermark (2009, p.13) asked whether there were any advantages in the somewhat ambiguous position of the Islands, in being between ‘Swedishness, Finnishness, Westernness, and Easternness, between mainland and archipelago, farmers and merchants’. She describes the ambiguous position of the Islands as entailing both power and vulnerability, and concludes that there are indeed some advantages to be detected. Nina Fellman (2009, p.27), editor of a local newspaper, poses the related question of whether Åland offers the option of ‘not belonging’ and answers herself positively in the sense that for her Åland stands out as the land in-between. Importantly, it may be defined without outlining and pinpointing any centre (or utilizing any standard concept defining political space) which would then allow the Islands to find out what and where they are. Åland may increasingly define itself as ‘an entity in its own right, a people who are neither Finns, Swedish Finns nor Swedes’, she asserts. It hence appears that the in-between nature, non-belonging and lack of normalcy of the Islands also provides for an acceptable if not favourable identity-related anchorage. In short, she testifies that Ålanders feels ontologically secure despite – or rather because of – Åland’s conceptual dislocation and, in some regards, deviant nature. This is also evidenced in that a growing number of Ålanders seem to have in general become convinced that their rather special nature, one premised on demilitarization, neutralization and autonomy as well as an internationally anchored posture, is not just a second-best solution imposed upon them by unfortunate circumstances. Their standing does not just boil down to a rest category and figure as the only one at hand once the ideal one, premised on the more categorical and conventional concepts defining their essence and grounding the identity, could not be applied. Actually, the rather ambiguous posture gained is now depicted as a rather positive one and instead of trying to shed off their in-betweenness, they aspire to stay with it and ground themselves in such a posture. This is evidenced in that the inhabitants define themselves overwhelmingly as ‘Ålanders’, with other and more distinct identities such as ‘Nordics’, ‘Finnish Swedes’ or ‘Europeans’, not to speak of ‘Swedes’ or ‘Finns’ enjoying far less support (Häggblom et al. 1999, p.15).

Recent contestations However, and despite a growing acceptance, Åland’s position has been also intensely debated during the recent decades. Quite a number of influential voices have claimed that the frame established by the League of Nations has lost relevance, albeit the conclusions drawn differ profoundly from each other. Whereas some argue that the Ålandish model has become largely redundant, others suggest that it should be developed and revised in order for it to be in tune with contemporary circumstances. For sure, the end of the Cold War occasioned a moment of disruption also on the part of the Islands with new debates revolving around issues of identity

Ontological (in)security after peace   143 and sovereignty both on the Islands as well as well as in mainland Finland. As to the mainland, there was the feeling in some circles in Finland that the somewhat ‘un-natural’ if not troubling solution with restrictions imposed upon the country’s territorial sovereignty in the military field should be remedied. Defence-related activities should, for national defence to be credible, apply equally to all parts of Finland without any exception. Deviating cases ought to be tackled along the lines of very many other issues seen as left-overs from a bygone period. Åland’s deviating nature in view of what could be considered as ‘normal’ should be regularized for ordinary statist and security-related unity to prevail. What according to a standard power political reading stood out as an exception and a military ‘vacuum’ attracting unwarranted and dangerous attention in being viewed as a point of weakness ought to be dealt with and sorted out for full normalcy and similarity to prevail. It was argued that the sorting out of the ambiguity had to be carried out as the conceptual and political dislocation of the Islands could be remedied as the new, post-Cold War Europe now allowed for such moves. It was further claimed that the standardization part of an expanding European integration would in any case enforce making permanent the complexities embedded in Åland’s posture as a cosovereign actor within the northern European political landscape, i.e. one abiding in general to standard modern features and in line with the rather straightforward approaches to the construction of political space. So why to stick to an outdated, exception-based and sovereignty-infringing regime initiated in the 1920s as a response to conflicts typical of the nineteenth century? It was therefore stressed in a number of interventions – coming mainly from the Finnish and in some cases also Swedish military – that Finland as a sovereign country should have the option of defending itself without any restrictions. This applies, the argument went, territorially and conceptually also to the Islands, and consequently the restrictions part of demilitarization and the solution brought into being by the League of Nations should be rectified. The Finnish military should, for the defence preparations and the sovereignty of the country to be credible, have the option of moving freely on Åland and its neighbouring territorial waters. In short, Finland’s homogeneity in the sphere of military matters should be restored by doing away with Åland’s deviancy. However, these arguments depicting Åland as a barrier, obstacle and liability did in the end – although presented rather forcefully and systematically – not have the desired impact. Swedish voices, among others, were raised in order to defend the status quo and the agreed principles, this indicating that Sweden remains interested in the neutralization and demilitarization of the Islands. In addition, a number of Ålandish voices rejected forcefully the claims of the Finnish military. Åland should prevail as a deviant case also in the sphere of ordinary military logic. It should not be drawn into debates concerning securitization but remain de-securitized. Eventually the Finnish Foreign Ministry opted for a preservation of the status quo and overruled various claims advocating ‘normalization’ and ‘standardization’ (Fagerlund 2003, p.194). Crucially, this time also Åland contributed rather actively to the debate. It changed footing in trading the previous passivity for a proactive position as to

144  Pertti Joenniemi the interpretation concerning the provisions regulating the status of the Islands (Joenniemi 2003, pp. 92–96). In fact, in 1992 Åland’s Government passed an interpretation of its own as to the 1921 Convention thereby adding further credence to the notion of Åland as ‘the Islands of Peace’, i.e. an entity in breach of the ordinary bifurcated security-related logic. The increased activity and gaining a separate voice has not prevented further incidents, though. The demilitarization and neutralization regime was put to test for instance during a military exercise Nordic Peace 2003, with Finnish ferries transporting a number of Swedish officers and soldiers accompanied by jeeps, military trucks and weapons to Finland via Åland. Norwegian military helicopters flew over the Islands en route to Finland with the permission of the Finnish authorities. With the issue being brought into the media by the Åland Islands Peace Institute, the Swedes admitted that they had made a mistake whereas the Norwegians stated that they had not been informed about the rules pertaining to demilitarization. Finland’s Defence Ministry argued that the passage had occurred lawfully, and the Foreign Ministry concurred, albeit pledged to investigate what practices had been followed in the matter (Spiliopoulou Åkermark 2010). The incident showed quite clearly that Åland and Ålandic actors have turned into active defenders of the international regime as well as the norms defining the special position of the Islands. They contribute actively to the debate in order carve out a position for themselves in the various games, conceptual departures and contests concerning identities and the unfolding of political space in the Baltic region. Interfering with the military and security policy related discourses ordinarily premised on sovereignty and standard conceptualizations of political space seem to offer an important platform for the Islands to position themselves, bolster their subjectivity and reconfirm their deviant nature for anxiety to be contained and ontological security to prevail. The fears brought about by the debate were clearly used in order to alleviate worries pertaining to ontological safety.

Efforts of strengthening autonomy Another indication of Åland’s growing subjectivity consists of engagement in the extensive discussion that evolved during the end of the 1990s concerning various problems and shortcomings related to the regime. There was the worry that the frame established by the League was increasingly out of touch with presentday circumstances thus undermining the particular position of the Islands. In consequence, the regime ought to be revised and strengthened for difference not to be overtaken by similarity. Among other things, Åland’s autonomy ought to be extended and it should, in addition to culture, also cover political as well as economic issues. More generally, the Islands were seen as having become overly dependent on mainland Finland for autonomy and co-sovereignty to have any real meaning along the lines of the original and difference-producing regime. Instead of just continuing a culturally premised and defensive ‘language struggle’ pertaining to an ethnically defined identity, attention should be directed towards the broader and interest-related issues underpinning Åland’s autonomy,

Ontological (in)security after peace   145 above all those of an economic and fiscal nature (Lindström 1999, p.239). The Islands should in particular – in order for their arguably narrow action-space to be expanded – be granted an enhanced standing in the sphere of taxation (Jansson 2001, p.17). Concretely, rather than just receiving an annual block grant consisting of 0.45 per cent of the total revenues of the state of Finland, taxation rights should be extended to cover more than just ordinary municipal taxation (Karlsson et al. 2009, p.19). However, the changes are not just limited to the nature of the Finnish-Ålandish relations or pertain merely to an upgrading of contestations and tensions in the economic and fiscal spheres. They are far broader in nature as also evidenced by the fact that one of the themes has consisted of Åland’s position as a regional actor in the Baltic area. The promise has been there, owing to the changes brought about by the demise of the previously somewhat bifurcated setting, that Åland could gain a relatively strong position as a regionalist entity. Regionalization has as such progressed rapidly also in the Baltic area, albeit it does not seem to have played sufficiently into the hands of Åland. Gaining the position and identity of a strong regional polity would have furnished Åland with a special standing, although within a setting that differs from the one brought about by the League of Nations. It would have allowed a stemming of the anxieties generated by the changing circumstances by riding along and being in tune with general political and economic developments without aspiring for the position of a deviant polity. However, it appears that despite Åland’s standing as one of the most affluent regions in Europe, the economic strength of the Islands does not seem to suffice in order for the Islands to be able to carve out the position that they would like to have among the various regional actors around the Baltic rim. Partaking in regionalization has thus not developed into one of the key routines applied by Åland to position itself safely under the new circumstances. A major reason for why Åland has not been fully able to capitalize on its location in the middle of the Baltic Sea appears to be related to the fact that the shipping industry, crucial for the economy of the Islands, has experienced decline. The decline has to some extent been balanced by an upturn in the ferry traffic but this has not been enough in order to remedy the overall situation. The decline is due to fierce international competition and prominent ship owners re-registering their fleets in the Bahamas, Bermuda or Cyprus. In addition, parts of the ferry fleet has been transferred to Sweden for reasons of cost efficiency and also the declining interest among the youth on the Islands to work on ships has contributed to the recent difficulties (Karlsson et al. 2009, p.146). The feeling has been there in the ensuing debate that the Finnish authorities have not been of much help to the various remedies proposed despite the fact that the EU-related regulations would as such have allowed the coining of various countermeasures in the field of taxation. It has been pointed out that other NorthEuropean autonomies, in particular the Faroes and Greenland had ‘long ago surpassed Åland in terms of an autonomous standing’ (Jansson 2001, p.17; see also Karlsson et al. 2009, pp. 19–20). Arguably, they have been able to capitalize on a more flexible posture amounting to constant negotiations instead of being

146  Pertti Joenniemi restrained by a rather rigid and inflexible one as does Åland. In general, Åland should also be provided with proper changes of making it in an altered context. It may in any case be noted that the constitutive discourses underpinning Åland are changing with increased emphasis on various civic and particularly economic rather than ethnic and cultural issues. There is the feeling that the Islands should be provided with increased action-space and position of a party particularly in the sphere of fiscal policies and the economy in order to be able to make a difference. Yet it is to be noted that the problems referred to – or for that matter the solutions – do not always pertain to Finland as the metropolis. They have more often than not a broad international background and hinge in some cases also on various EU-related rules and regulations as well as EU-membership at large. Overall, they seem to be related to the meaning of autonomy and co-sovereignty as articulations testifying to a special standing in an increasingly interdependent world. Unsurprisingly, mainland Finland often figures as a source of the difficulties experienced and a hindrance blocking possible solutions. Yet it may be noted that also Finland – along with a number of other small states – is struggling with somewhat similar issues and restraint as to its ability to provide more leeway for Åland in the sphere of economic policies. Compromises have to be made and farreaching sovereignty is in general in short supply due to European integration and increasing interdependence in the sphere of international relations. The Ålandish demands imply that Finland should accept handing over increased autonomy and power to the Islands despite its own sovereignty being under considerable pressure. The problem is exacerbated by the populist fluctuations discernible in the sphere of Finnish domestic politics with the populists resisting in general any compromises to the country’s sovereign being (Nauclér 2012). Åland is depicted as an unwarranted deviation enjoying too much positive discrimination. It is, as a source of ‘pollution’, to be pushed out of Finland (but not integrated into the country by doing away with its deviant features) for the country’s purity and homogeneity to prevail. It already enjoys, according to the populist claims, far too many privileges and too much support including the lump sum annually returned to the Islands. These voices may, on the one hand, cause ontological fears in threatening to undermine the position that Åland has gradually gained but on the other hand they also contribute to ontological security in confirming that the Islands remain a rather special case. Moreover, they testify to the fact that there are indeed actors present on the Finnish political scene interested in substituting the difference undergirding Åland’s sense of Self with far-reaching similarity and homogeneity. Notably, somewhat similar identity-related anxieties have also been present in the Ålandish debate. They amounted to demands for better protection of the particular nature of the Islands already towards the late 1990s to interventions suggesting that Åland become a micro-state. Proposals have been advanced both by scholars (Anckar 1999) and mentioned in political pamphlets (Eriksson1996). A rather intense debate ensued for a while with even Martti Ahtisaari, Finland’s President, basically criticizing the idea in a speech delivered in 1998. Clearly, the idea of trading their liminality as a form of partial difference for a fully sovereign

Ontological (in)security after peace   147 posture enjoyed some support among the Ålanders. However, it may also be noted that the idea never gained majority support or amounted to concrete political measures for Åland to abandon its co-sovereignty in order for the Islands to be converted into a fully sovereign and statist entity. The sovereignty-premised debate premised on the aspiration for clear Self/Other constellations rather than staying within the pattern of being both/as and inside as well as outside has declined over time but not entirely disappeared. It is still there influencing the debate thereby testifying to the prevalence of a considerable ontological insecurity as to the essence and status of the Islands and the active search for ways and means to stem the uncertainty that has originated with the changing external circumstances.

Åland joining the EU Initially, at the beginning of the 1990s, the perceptions pertaining to unease and threat also entailed issues related to European Union as an entity endangering stable and clear-cut definitions of self and other. It was in particular feared that the pursuance of Finnish policies and interests would not leave sufficient space for the Ålandish ones and that it could be difficult to impact the EU as it did not recognize autonomous entities. Åland was in a sense too dissimilar in order to fit into the new frame of European integration. After all, integration is about standardization and doing away with deviations that hamper the creation of larger political and economic constellations (Scarpulla 2001). It has consequently been feared that the ambiguous and in-between nature of the Islands could in that context turn into a liability rather than remain an asset. However, these fears have turned out to be unfounded as the joining of the Union has in many ways fortified the international regime underpinning Åland’s status. The Islands have been able to influence the process of Finland joining the Union in 1995 to a significant degree as Åland’s Government and Legislative Assembly have the right, according to Autonomy Act, to be heard in matters pertaining to the status of the Islands. The Islands have been able to capitalize on the fact that any treaty conflicting with the autonomy of the Islands must be approved by the Assembly with a two- thirds majority to come into force on the Islands. Importantly, the new regime was not imposed on Åland as the Islands were able to decide by themselves whether to join the EU, and membership could also have been rejected. They were not just an object of decisions taken elsewhere as in 1921 but enjoyed considerable subjectivity as there was, in reality, considerable space for manoeuvre available for Åland to utilize. Actually the Ålanders voted not once but twice on membership. They did so first by taking part in the national Finnish referendum on joining the EU (and approved membership by a relatively slim margin) and then a second and separate, local referendum was organized once it was clear that both Finland and Sweden would join the Union. The second one brought about a rather clear yes as to membership, a yes that obviously contributed to the internationalization and multilateralization that have rather rapidly taken place on the Islands.

148  Pertti Joenniemi There has also been a shift in the constitutive debate and new channels for engagement have been opened up with Brussels becoming a crucial focal point in the policies pursued. Notably, the change and broadening of the frame of the Ålandish-Finnish relationship has also altered the quality of the former somewhat remote and strained relations between Helsinki and the capital of Åland, Mariehamn (Sundback 1994, p.14). The contacts to Helsinki have ‘increased tremendously since we entered the EU’ (Norlund 2008, p.56). The political and social distance is no longer what it used to be but the relationship has also turned more complex to handle in the context of the new and increasingly cooperative routines. It seems, more generally, that Åland’s subjectivity has grown within a constellation that is increasingly triangular in nature, and within that triangle the Finnish-Ålandish relationship has been re-framed and has undergone significant change. The Ålandish yes to the Union was facilitated by the fact that representatives of the Islands were included in the Finnish delegation and were able in that context to take part in the negotiations on Finland’s membership. It is to be noted, however, that Åland felt discriminated against once. For example, the devising of the Finnish negotiating position failed to support duty-free shopping on the ferries sailing between Åland and Finland (Fagerlund 2003, p.200). A key reason for a favourable attitude and acceptance of membership lay in the fact that the very process of negotiations as well as the outcome clearly bolstered Åland’s subjectivity not only within Finland but also, more broadly, as a European actor. The encounter between two liminal entities both outside established categories of political space, Åland and the EU, stands out as a difficult one to define and settle in conventional terms. However, it appears to unfold in a relative unproblematic manner and is of crucial importance in the sense of offering the Islands an additional but also different setting of coming into being compared to the traditional one consisting of the Finnish-Ålandish relations. The relatively unproblematic nature of Åland joining European integration ‒ to some extent in contrast with the case of Cyprus (see the chapter by Neophytos Loizides) ‒ has been evidenced in one of its aspects by the Islands gaining a special status within the EU with the Finnish Treaty of Accession containing provisions on the Islands. A special protocol was incorporated into Finland’s Treaty of Accession granting Åland the right to derogate, on a non-discriminatory basis, from (EU) Treaties with regard to restrictions on the right to domicile, to own property and the right to establish a business. The protocol also defines Åland as a ‘third territory’ in respect of all indirect taxation allowing Åland to remain outside some aspects of the Union’s taxation regime (in which Finland is, as such, included). It is thereby conducive to the emergence of borders differentiating Åland with regard to social distance from the rest of Finland and the EU in terms of policies of taxation (Eriksson 2008, p.52). Significantly, Åland’s membership did not imply a standardization and homogenization of the Islands in the name of European integration. Becoming a member has not undermined – at least not initially – their specificity. In contrast, their standing has been enhanced in some of its aspects by the recognition and incorporation of Åland’s specificity into the accession documents.

Ontological (in)security after peace   149 It is to be noted, however, that in some ways membership and joining European integration alter the conditions for gaining ontological security. In the first place, the game is no longer about being partly in and partly out as similarity turns into an asset and deviation as well as efforts of carving out a divergent position are viewed as liabilities. In addition, being co-sovereign in regard to Finland does not amount to co-sovereignty in view of the Union, and it is also to be noted that co-sovereignty is in many ways deprived of meaning as the dominant logic impacting the unfolding of political space consists of the rules and regulations of European integration. Furthermore, it appears that Finland stands stronger with regard to requests for standardization with Finland and Åland now having a co-presence within the EU. This is so as Finland and Åland are compelled to harmonize their views and to do so in particular in trying to avoid situations harmful to Finland (such as being taken to court and being fined because of Åland failing to implement some EU decisions). Finland has gained the right – by drawing on the EU’s rules and practices – to call for similarity and the pursuance of uniform policies thus narrowing the action-space available for Åland and deducting from the nature of the Islands as a deviant case. The parties have also been compelled to improve their contacts and ways of harmonizing policies in order to facilitate mutual agreement and in order for this to be achieved, Åland’s Act on Autonomy was amended in 2004. It no longer just regulates the Finnish-Ålandish relationship but also contains crucial provisions in regard to EU affairs. This implies, as to the construction of ontological security, that the sphere defining Åland’s being has been extended if not altered. It has become far broader than it used to be with an emphasis on EU-related issues (Stephen 2010, p.30). There have also been various efforts to improve contacts and harmonize the policies pursued, although the relationship is still not friction-free as demonstrated for example by Åland’s reluctance in 2009 to ratify the Lisbon Treaty. It remained unclear, though, whether a refusal to do so would actually have stalled the overall process of ratification. This never came to a dispute as a settlement was eventually found (Karlsson et al. 2009, p.146). Yet, in order for Åland and Finland to be able to avoid such disputes in the future, a parliamentary committee has been established and with the task of making recommendations as to improved coordination but also to suggest proper procedures to be followed in cases of disagreement (Nauclér 2012). As to the frictions part of the triangular relationship, there is bone of contestation that the Ålanders feel that they have not been sufficiently compensated for having accepted membership and that their voice has remained insufficient within the EU in matters important for Åland. They have been granted the right to speak at the EU Court in matters concerning the Islands, but they would also like to have a seat in the EU Parliament. As to mainland Finland, they have complained that they are discriminated against in the sphere of language and not allowed to have Åland’s flag flying beside of the Finnish one outside Finland’s EU representation in Brussels. The national Finnish preparations within the respective ministries usually take place in Finnish whereas the Ålanders – with their aspiration of remaining strictly unilingual – are for the most part not in command of Finnish.

150  Pertti Joenniemi The discourse clearly reproduces some of the traditional claims pertaining to Åland’s partial otherness. Yet it is also to be noted that most of the divisive and difference-producing constellations have more recently been generated in view of EU-imposed policies. Hence issues such as indirect taxation, the right to sell snuff on Åland and the ferries traversing the Baltic Sea or the hunting of migrating sea-birds – a spring-time tradition seen as culturally important on the Islands – have gained a constitutive meaning (Sonck 2011). They pertain to the economy of the Islands, but are also felt to be of importance in allowing the islanders to express who they are and what they are not. Helsinki is obviously part of the broader constellation furnishing the Islands both with similarity and difference, albeit mainland Finland often figures in an EU-related context as a mediating actor rather standing out as a prime source of the problems that Åland endeavours to address. In general, the pluralization that has occurred in the sphere of European politics has not undermined Åland’s subjectivity or dramatically endangered its ontological standing. The change experienced has obviously caused some anxiety but at the same time channels and themes have appeared allowing for routines to be developed that offer ways of coping with that anxiety. The new action-space is obviously different from the traditional one and it has not been easy to exploit, albeit being one that the Islands have been able to utilize taking into account their modest experience to act within a rather broad international context as well as their relative modest resources.

Concluding remarks In its transforming rather than settling of the Finnish-Swedish dispute related to the Åland Islands, the League of Nations contributed to the creation of an extraordinary polity. Instead of staying with sovereignty as a key organizing principle in the sphere of international relations and positioning the Islands accordingly as either Finnish or Swedish, it broke with that principle. It played in essence with ambiguity rather than opting for any fixed and clear-cut solution. Consequently, the Ålanders turned partly Finnish and partly Swedish. They were denied the option of acquiring identity-related safety by seeking shelter and purity as a local and non-sovereign entity under the umbrella provided by the established categories of political space. However, at the same time the ruling of the League also provided elements to be utilized in aspiring for a new weness. What was initially resisted, depicted as a betrayal and viewed as a move undermining Åland’s ‘real’ being has gradually turned into the bedrock of Ålandish identity. The islanders have hence, rather than endeavouring at undermining the ruling of the League of Nations, turned into defenders of the ambiguity and deviance embedded in their co-sovereign standing. The aspiration has, in general, not been one of doing away with the ambiguity and in-betweenness imposed upon them. The fear alleviating their identity-related anxieties has rather been about being too tightly integrated into a very clear-cut constellation and fully positioned

Ontological (in)security after peace   151 according to the dominant markers of political space. In other words, the Islands have aspired, for reasons of ontological security, to remain distinctly dissimilar and to stay aloof from too much similarity. The model created was thus one of deviance and exceptionality. It was created innovatively in breach with the ordinary principles underlying the organization of political space and it could therefore be perceived as a compromise struck in order for a temporary solution to emerge. With Ålandish self-governance figuring as an anomaly and appearing as an undesirable deviation from the rule of state sovereignty, there has indeed been good reason to assume that the ‘error’ initiated by the League of Nations will be rectified and sorted out over time for normality to prevail in the sense of undivided sovereignty. However, this is not the way things have evolved and the regime premised on shared sovereignty and ambiguity has instead shown itself to be not just robust but also rather flexible. It has actually stood the test of time even if the underlying constitutive discourses have to some extent changed. They have done so above all with security declining in impact whereas arguments pertaining particularly to economic performance have grown in significance in grounding Åland’s standing. While security still carries some weight as a constitutive narrative allowing Åland to articulate its particular nature, it does not exclusively pertain to local conflicts and regional conditions. Security is instead – for the part of Åland – increasingly depicted as an argument underpinning conflict resolution and it figures in this sense more generally as an idea inspiring efforts of exploring solutions that reach beyond state sovereignty. Rather than normalizing the Islands for them to be in line with the normal categories of political space premised on being either sovereign or non-sovereign, the effort has increasingly been one of depicting Åland as deviating from the usual solutions in a positive and de-securitized sense. The Islands thus break with national homogeneity and blur sovereignty but do this in a manner which also adds to Finland’s reputation as a tolerant country that favours solving disputes creatively and peacefully. The recent changes pertaining mainly to European integration alter the key frame as well as the discourses applied by the Islands in aspiring for subjectivity. It hence appears that the routine aspects of the Ålandish-Finnish relationship no longer work in the way they used to. The changes may well amount to increased anxiety, albeit also bringing with them the option of furnishing Åland with a sense of increased normalcy. The Islands can as an integral part of the EU generate new routines and compete as any other polity for various advantages. They can for good reasons claim in this context that they are to some extent discriminated against, but these claims do no longer ground Åland as categorically as used to be the case as an entity basically outside the ordinary categories of political space. The changes may well be conducive to some ontological strains but the new frame resting on membership of the Union also offers at the same time ways and means for stemming the insecurity. Importantly, joining the EU does not detract from Åland’s status of a special polity as their particular standing has been confirmed by the Union. It has rather gained further credence and recognition. In any case, the membership of the Islands implies that they are confronted with the challenge

152  Pertti Joenniemi of carving out an ontologically safe identity under altered conditions. The logic present in their external relations has changed and pertains now predominantly to abiding to shared European values as well as partaking in European affairs and, more generally, international economic integration as a polity among many others.

Bibliography Anckar, D. 1999, ‘Alternative presidentialism. Mellan Skylla och Charybdid’, Finsk Tidskrift, pp. 601–14. ‘Autonomy – An Alternative to Secession? A Seminar on the Åland Islands as an Example for Peaceful Governance’, UM Publications (Finnish Ministry for Foreign Affairs), no. 1, 2001. Blok, A. 1998, ’The Nacissim of Minor Differences’, European Journal of Social Theory, vol.1, no.1, pp. 33–56. Eriksson, S. 2008, ‘The Role of the Åland Parliament in EU Matters’ in ‘Constitutions, Autonomies and the EU’, Report from the Åland Islands Peace Institute, ed. S. Spiliopoulou Åkermark, pp. 51–54. Eriksson, T. 1996, Åland i motvind, Mariehamn: T. Eriksson. Fagerlund, N. 2003, ‘The Special Status of the Åland Islands in the European Union’ in Autonomy and Demilitarization in International Law: The Åland Islands in a Changing Europe, eds L. Hannikainen & F. Horn, The Hague: Kluwer Law International, pp. 187–255. Fellman, N. 2009, ‘Land in Between’ in Outpost, Land in between and Bridge, Mariehamn: The Åland Islands Peace Institute, pp. 25–27. Granlund, J. 2010, ‘Det internationella kortet – altruism och egennytta som skäl till att föra fram ålandsexemplet’, Rapport från Ålands fredsinstitut, no. 2. Gross, A. 2003, ‘Positive Experiences of Autonomous Regions as Source of Inspiration for Conflict Resolution in Europe’, Parliamentary Assembly, Council of Europe. Report, Doc.9824. Häggblom, K., Kinnunen, J. & Lindström, B. 1999, ’Ålänningarna och deras Identitet’, Radar, no. 1, pp. 12–13. Jansson, H. 2001, ‘Introduktion’, in Den andra Ålandsfrågan. Autonomi eller självständighet?, eds H. Jansson, & J. Salminen, Mariehamn: Julius Sundbloms Minnesstiftelse, pp. 13–26. Joenniemi, P. 2003, ‘The Åland Islands Issue’ in The Nordic Peace, eds C. Archer & P. Joenniemi, Aldershot: Ashgate, pp. 88–104. Joenniemi, P. 2013, ‘Finland: A Non-Traditional Peacemaker’, Canadian Journal of Foreign Policy, vol.19, no.1, pp. 53–59. Karlsson, A., Lindström, B. & Van Well, L. 2009, ‘Mot den tredje generationens regionpolitik. Lärdomar från Nordens autonomier och perifera ö-regioner, Report1/2009, Nordregio. Lindstöm, B. 1999, ‘Aaland’s Autonomy – A Compromise Made in Finland’, in SocioEconomic Developments in Greenland and in other Small Nordic Jurisdictions, ed. L. Lyck, Copenhagen: New Social Science Monographs (Copenhagen Business School), pp. 225–240. Nauclér, E. 2005, ‘Autonomy and Multilevel Governance. Experiences in Nordic and Continental European Cooperation’, in Autonomy, Self-governance and Conflict Resolution, eds M. Weller & S. Wolff, London and New York: Routledge, pp. 99–116.

Ontological (in)security after peace   153 Nauclér, E. 2012, ‘Ahvenanmaan Itsehallintoa Pitää Uudistaa’, Helsingin Sanomat 14 June. Norlund, R. 2008, ‘The Challenges of Developing the Ålandic Autonomy’ in ‘Constitutions, Autonomies and the EU’, Report from the Åland Islands Peace Institute, ed. S. Spiliopoulou Åkermark, no. 3, pp. 55–58. Scarpulla, C. 2001, ‘Ålands Status och den Europeiska Unionen’ in Den andra Ålandsfrågan. Autonomi eller självständighet?, eds H. Jansson & J. Salminen, Mariehamn: Julius Sundbloms Minnesstiftelse, pp. 123–145. Sonck, F. 2011,’Örike på drift mot Sverige’, Ny Tid, no. 41, pp. 67–68. Spiliopoulou Åkermark, S. 2009, ‘Åland: Outpost, Land in Between and Bridge 1809– 2009’ in Outpost, Land in between and Bridge, Mariehamn: The Åland Islands Peace Institute, pp. 13–21. Spiliopoulou Åkermark, S. 2010, ‘What makes the Åland Example Still Relevant? in Les Ǐles Åland en mer Baltique. Héritage et actualité d’un régime original, ed. M. Chillaud, Paris: L’ Harmattan, pp. 229–241. Spiliopoulou Åkermark, S. 2011, The Åland Example and Its Components – Relevance for International Conflict Resolution, Mariehamn: The Åland Islands Peace Institute. Stephen, S. 2010, ‘Regional Voices in the European Union – Regions with Legislative Power and Multi-level Governance. Perspectives for the Åland Islands’, Report from the Åland Islands Peace Institute. Sundback, B. 1994, ‘Från folkspillra till folkrättsligt subjekt’ in Åland: Demilitariserat örike, Mariehamn: Ålands fredsförening, pp. 59–82.

8 The ontological significance of Karelia Finland’s reconciliation with losing the promised land Christopher S. Browning and Pertti Joenniemi Introduction As stereotypes would have it Finland is a developed, stable and peaceful Nordic country located in the calm environment of northern Europe, known for its friendly relations with its neighbours, including Russia. It has not always been so. Tensions, clashes and wars have also been present in Finnish-Russian/Soviet relations. One cause of tension has been the territory of Karelia, a region that transcends the border between Finland and Russia. The region has been important for Russia because of its need to devise a close link between identity, territory and security (Hirsch 2005; Liikanen 1999, p.358), although geostrategic reasoning has also impacted on Russia’s policies as a result of Karelia’s geographical proximity to St Petersburg. For Finland the ontological dimension, with Karelia seen as a mythical region, a constitutive part of the national soul central to the nineteenth-century processes of national awakening, has been even more pronounced, with the region in contrast somewhat less linked to issues of physical security and border-related safety than in Russia. During the inter-war period Karelianism reached fever pitch in Finland and calls to annex the territory were met with military incursions, which during the Continuation War (1941–1944) resulted in a full-scale invasion and programme of assimilation of Karelia into Finnish territory. As a result of the post-war settlement the major part of Karelia1 was ceded to Russia, and 420,000 Karelian refugees moved to Finland and all the ingredients for future conflict seemed to be in place. Yet, since the end of the Second World War the role of Karelia as a source of tension in Finnish-Russian/Soviet relations has over time been ameliorated, and, more generally, the anxiety generated by the loss of Karelia has been settled by formulating alternative self-narratives. Indeed, given the ontological significance of Karelia to Finnish national identity the case might actually appear to be a rather unlikely and successful instance of conflict resolution, especially if compared to other contested territories impregnated with ontological significance such as Abkhazia, the Falklands, Kosovo, the Kurile Islands/Northern Territories, Jerusalem or South Ossetia. Arguably, this development was the result of a combined process of renegotiating the nature of Russia/Soviet Union from that of an implacable enemy to an international great power and partner, while simultaneously renegotiating the

The ontological significance of Karelia   155 position of Karelia in Finnish identity narratives. Combined these provided new grounds upon which the Finnish sense of ontological security and national selfesteem could be reinstituted, even during a process of giving up claims on a territory widely considered to be a constitutive and fundamental part of the national self. In making the argument we first establish the ontological importance and status of Karelia in Finnish national identity discourses in the nineteenth century. This provides the basis for understanding how and why Karelia became a point of heightened securitization and conflict in nationalist narratives following Finland’s declaration of independence in 1917 through to the end of the Second World War – a period when the Finnish-Russian relationship can be characterized as one of ‘stable conflict’ (low anxiety, high fear) in Rumelili’s terms (Chapter 1). We then turn to the process of conflict resolution and draw a distinction between the Cold War and post-Cold War periods and argue that significantly different strategies of desecuritization have been evident. In this context, the relationship of ‘stable conflict’ of the inter-war period shifted to one oscillating between ‘unstable conflict’ (high anxiety, high fear) and ‘conflict in resolution’ (high anxiety, low fear) during the Cold War, with the post-Cold War situation being one where the Karelian issue has gradually shifted from a ‘conflict in resolution’ to one increasingly characterized by ‘peace’ (low anxiety, low fear). Before engaging in the analysis, however, a theoretical discussion of ontological security and conflict resolution is required.

Ontological security, desecuritization and conflict resolution As noted in the introductory chapter to this volume, ontological security is fundamentally concerned with tying the logic of security to the production and reproduction of identities. Understood as such, feelings of ontological security tend to derive from actors’ ability to uphold consistent self-biographies and understandings of self-identity (Giddens 1991). To the extent to which this is possible, actors are liable to feel secure about the nature of their environment and their role and place within it. A condition of ontological security, however, need not imply that this environment is one of peace or lacking tension. What counts is rather the stability of expectations surrounding particular relationships. As noted by Mitzen (2006), while on the one hand security dilemmas may indicate the existence of a precarious threat environment where war is understood as a constant possibility, at the ontological level security dilemmas can actually reinforce the sense of being and identity of the actors involved. In this respect, ontological security is the product of stable relationships and the expectation that actors will be treated by others in predictable ways – whether as friends or enemies. In contrast, the breaking down and transformation of stable relationships can become a source of existential anxiety and fear. As evident throughout this volume, this is precisely one reason why processes of conflict resolution can be so difficult, since while peace may enhance the overall sense of physical security of the parties to a conflict, it may in turn provide fundamental challenges to the established grounds upon which they have constituted their identities.

156  Christopher S. Browning and Pertti Joenniemi Peace processes may therefore generate anxiety over identity, even to the extent that they might be rejected in favour of upholding established identities premised on conflict between enemies. As pointed out by Wæver (2008), such processes are particularly evident and problematic in the context of long established conflicts, where conflicts over material issues have transformed into conflicts over mutually reinforcing opposing identities. As noted by Rumelili in the first chapter, conflict resolution therefore relies upon the desecuritization and reconciliation of identities as much as it does on resolving the material issues about which any conflict is ostensibly concerned. Desecuritization hence concerns opening up previously securitized identities to new possibilities, shifting away from mutually reinforcing depictions of enmity to more benevolent views of the Other. However, and in contrast to widespread discussion about the concept of securitization, debate about desecuritization processes has been relatively limited. Indeed, to the extent to which debates have taken place they have generally focused on establishing (or contesting) the presumed normative benefits of desecuritization. In contemplating the concept, Wæver (1995) initially envisaged desecuritization as a reversal of processes of securitization. Thus, if securitization highlights how presenting issues in the language of security can foster the development of enemy images and come to justify the adoption of exceptionalist measures in tackling them, then on this score desecuritization largely amounted to an appeal to avoid the language of security through the presentation of issues in other terms. Arguably, however, this emphasis on rearticulating threats in non-securitized terms by trying to convince people that the Other (or the issue at hand) is not as irrational or dangerous as perceived, only captures one possible mechanism towards promoting the desecuritization of conflicts (Huysmans 1995, p.65) – and is, as noted by Rumelili, a process which, while tackling the fear of the Other, may induce considerable anxiety by undermining established conceptions of identity. Indeed, Rumelili’s emphasis on how desecuritization may lower fears of objectified Others while simultaneously heightening anxieties is itself underspecified in that desecuritization can take different forms, with these different forms having potentially different impacts on the relationship between fear and anxiety in different contexts. As Hansen (2010, 2012) notes, at least three other strategies can be identified alongside that of desecuritization by rearticulation. Alternative desecuritization strategies are those of replacement, silencing and fading. ‘Replacement’ refers to a process whereby one perceived threat is downplayed by emphasizing another threat of mutual concern (see chapters by Lupovici and Loizides). At one level this could entail a process of simply swapping enemies – of swapping one objectified fear for another while keeping anxiety low through the continued identification of a (now new) constitutive Other – and as such might be seen as resolving one conflict via a process of generating another. However, cases of emphasizing common soft security concerns (health, pollution, development, organized crime) as a means to foster common approaches and ameliorate previously highly securitized relations can also be identified. In contrast, a strategy

The ontological significance of Karelia   157 of ‘silencing’ achieves desecuritization through actively repressing discussion of the issue at hand. This may take the form of providing incentives (e.g. threats of punishment, ostracism, humiliation) to avoid any mention of the security problem. At one level, silencing seeks to avoid the unsettling effects that approaches seeking to replace or rearticulate established securitizations may engender. However, as noted in the case analysis below, whether it can moderate anxieties and fears over the longer term is open to question, while the condemnation directed at those who break the silencing norm may itself be a source of considerable anxiety and ontological insecurity for those individuals. Finally, ‘fading’ indicates a situation in which a normalized politics of both low fear and anxiety is presumed as evident from the start and where questions of security are largely absent from discussion because they are no longer deemed relevant. In Hansen’s (2010) terms, fading is a situation where former threats ‘no longer exercise our minds and imaginations’ and are ultimately forgotten. Importantly, this is not about burying one’s head in the sand and suppressing talk about extant securitizations in the hope they might just disappear (Huysmans 1995, p.65). Instead, fading entails embracing a different ontological perspective from that which has generated and supported a conflict in the first place, thereby alleviating anxieties and fears, and might, for instance, entail abandoning a differential logic of identity construction or, as in the case of Karelia in Finnish identity discourses, entail renegotiating the relationship between national identity, territory and sovereignty. Before turning to the case analysis it is important to make one further point about ontological security. As indicated by the above discussion, ontological security is fundamentally linked to the preservation of stable relationships with significant others – whether those relationships be friendly or antagonistic – and this dynamic is obviously central to any understanding of the nature of conflict and prospects for conflict resolution also in the case of territorial disputes. Yet, the ontology of ontological security has dimensions that also go beyond this. For example, ontological security is also likely to be tied to socially constructed understandings of the nature of subjectivity in specific contexts, a point also evident in Bilgin and İnce’s discussion of citizenship in Turkey in their chapter. In fact, the nature of any specific self-other relationship may itself be a function of perceived threats to these other foundations of ontological security. In terms of understanding the emergence (and subsequent resolution) of the conflict over Karelia, for example, it is important to grasp how contemporary ideas about nationalism impacted upon Finnish understandings of the requirements and needs of national identity – in particular, the extent to which the emergence and success of the nineteenth-century project of national awakening became tied to Herderian and Hegelian understandings that, to be complete, nations needed to possess a distinctive culture, territory and ultimately sovereignty over that territory. It is these ideas allowing for a different nexus between identity, territory and borders – and their translation into a Finnish context – that ultimately provided the grounds upon which Karelia was to be ascribed with mythical and privileged status in the mental geographies of Finnish nationalism.

158  Christopher S. Browning and Pertti Joenniemi

National awakening and the mythologization of Karelia As a politico-national entity Finland is a relatively recent construction. Prior to 1809 most of present-day Finland was part of Sweden and lacked any heritage of administrative unity, or its people any discernible sense of history and national identity as Finns (Klinge 1993, p.321). Following the 1808–1809 SwedishRussian war, Finland was ceded to Russia, which in an attempt to win over the loyalties of their new subjects granted Finland an autonomous administrative status as a Grand Duchy of the Russian empire. Thus, while in 1809 the sense of Finnishness might have been limited, the creation of the Grand Duchy certainly provided the grounds upon which a distinct political national consciousness might be built (Kemiläinen 1989, p.111). Indeed, before long the elites were actively seeking to do precisely that and it was in this search for durable self-narratives that the ideas of Herder and Hegel were important in providing an understanding of what it was to be a nation and therefore framing what became understood as the essence of Finland and Finnishness in the nineteenth century and beyond. Herder’s emphasis on culture as the foundation of national distinctiveness was particularly influential in Finland, in part because of the country’s lack of a distinct political or monarchical history to draw upon. For Herder, nations were natural and organic products of the distinct physical environments they inhabit. These environments, he contended, account for differences in national character and culture, with national cultural distinctiveness primarily expressed through the original language of the people, as evident in the nation’s presumed unique folk poetry and oral tradition. As received in Finland, the implications of Herder’s analysis were that to awaken the nation the nationalists needed to provide evidence of the nation’s distinctiveness, to recreate the national memory, by rediscovering the national soul in its folk poetry and oral tradition (Wilson 1976, pp.28–30). In contrast, while Herder was primarily concerned with the survival of national cultures, Hegel’s influence stemmed from his understanding that all things that entered history were endowed with a particular historical mission. For nations, Hegel argued, this mission would be fulfilled through the achievement of statehood (Gellner 1997, p.65). The importance of Herder and Hegel, therefore, was that they provided a blueprint of the ontological foundations of national subjectivity, and a checklist against which the national project could be measured and national self-esteem built. According to this checklist the nation needed a distinct language, a distinct folklore tradition, a distinct national territory, and ultimately, sovereignty over that territory. The initial result of such influences was that the first goal of Finnish nationalists became that of promoting the use and development of Finnish literature and the Finnish language throughout society. A key mechanism for this was the creation of the Finnish Literature Society in 1831 (Klinge 1990, p.77). Given that a distinctive literature and history were largely absent, the leaders of the nationalist movement devoted particular attention to filling this gap. Drawing on Herder they identified the language and folk traditions of ‘ordinary people’ as their primary source material and set about collecting as many tales and poems as possible. Also following Herder

The ontological significance of Karelia   159 they believed the most ‘authentic language’, tales and poems would be found in the wilder and remoter areas of Finnish-speaking habitation – the view being these were less likely to have suffered from foreign influences. Here the national soul would be purest. This led the national romanticists – motivated by the assertion that they were neither Swedes nor Russians (Harle & Moiso 2000, p.74) – to the Finnish-speakers of the north and east of the Grand Duchy and the Karelians of Archangel Province and across the border in Russia (Branch 1998), as the people whom it was believed could furnish them with the required dose of originality and authenticity. Central to this movement was Elias Lönnrot, who in 1835 published a collection of folk poems, the Kalevala, which was to have a profound impact on the development and nature of Finnish nationalism. The Kalevala depicted a golden age of ancient Finnish peoples who, free from the yoke of foreign domination, lived epic lives of adventure and magic and it was invoked to support the claim that the Finns were an ancient, cultured, civilized people with a pure and grandiose past. In short, the Finns now had a national epic to compare with that of the Greeks, but an epic that was also viewed as a valid historical document in its own right (Branch 1998; Wilson 1976, pp.70–82). In this respect, the Kalevala provided the Finns with a historical self-awareness and a national project to recover the history and culture of the nation, and ultimately to reclaim national independence, a national project establishing certitude around a nationalist system of meaning and purpose and thereby bracketing out existential questions and the anxiety of meaninglessness. In regard to Karelia, the key point is not only that Lönnrot collected his source material for the Kalevala from the region, but also that he conjectured that the Finnish ancestors of whom the Kalevala told had lived in the area of presentday Karelia. Ultimately this had the effect of turning Karelia into an almost holy territory and the promised land of Finnish nationalism, with the land of Karelia becoming the fount from which Finnish culture and nationhood derived. This assumed Herderian connection between nature, land and the nation turned Karelia and the Kalevala into a primary inspiration for artists, composers and historians, whose works in turn served to enhance the sense of national emotional attachment to the territory. This connection to Karelia became important, not least because prior to the nineteenth century a clearly demarcated and accepted understanding of the nature of Finland and its borders was largely lacking. The creation of the Grand Duchy in 1809 existed as one concrete manifestation of Finnish territory, but one which as the nineteenth century progressed, nationalists increasingly viewed as artificial. Indeed, as the century unfolded a Hegelian emphasis on the need to amalgamate national and state borders gained ground, which when combined with the Herderian emphasis on organic cultures increasingly led nationalists to make territorial claims on Karelia. Given its position as the mythologized heartland of the nation, the separation of most of Karelia from the Grand Duchy increasingly began to take on existential dimensions – a sign that Finland was not yet whole, but deformed. Calls to (re)incorporate Karelia into Finnish territory

160  Christopher S. Browning and Pertti Joenniemi grew, and from the 1880s provided the inspiration for teachers to start crossing the border into Karelia to teach the Karelians Finnish and Finnish ideas (Wilson 1976, p.141). The Russians resented such moves, not least because they considered the Orthodox Karelians as ‘potential Russians’. Attempts to promote Lutheranism and Fennicization were therefore countered by the Russian authorities reasserting Russian claims to the region, not least through establishing Russian schools (Engman 1995, pp. 222–223). Indeed, by the 1890s the loyalty of the Finns to the empire was being increasingly questioned, with this resulting in a more general process of Russification designed to bring the Finns to heel. Among other things the freedoms of the Grand Duchy were restricted and the Russian language was introduced into the Finnish Senate, educational institutions and administrative offices (Thaden 1981, p.82). Russification, however, only fostered unrest, one element of which was a renewed wave of cultural production drawing predominantly on themes from the Kalevala and Karelia. By the end of the nineteenth century, therefore, it is clear that Karelia, as an integral part of territorially based nationalism, had come to occupy a special status in Finnish national discourse. Not only was Karelia viewed as a site of national authenticity and the resting place of the Finnish soul (the Kalevala), but it was also the land from which the Finns and Finnish culture sprang and hence, as a cradle of the nation, of fundamental ontological salience.

Fighting for Karelia In 1917, and in the wake of the Bolshevik revolution, Finnish independence was declared, shortly followed by the outbreak of civil war between worker groups (the Reds) and the bourgeois elite (the Whites). For the Reds, the civil war was a ‘class war’ with the aim of pushing the new country in a more socialist direction. In contrast the Whites (the victors) viewed the Reds as Bolshevik inspired agitators whose triumph would result in Finland’s absorption into Bolshevik Russia. For them, the civil war was therefore understood as a ‘war of independence’ (Alapuro 1994, pp.89–90). Across the right of Finnish society anti-Russian feeling flourished, with Russia quickly becoming designated as the nation’s hereditary enemy (see Karemaa 1998). Seen as siding with the Bolsheviks the Reds were also depicted as national traitors and therefore liable to extreme punishment (see Arosalo 1998). In this respect, the emergence of anti-Russian sentiment in Finland in the inter-war period – which during the period of the Grand Duchy had been limited to a social fringe – was intimately connected to the country’s internal political struggles. From the perspective of the Whites, however, Bolshevik Russia represented an existential threat to the social order, with the Reds’ uprising ultimately explained away as a result of the workers becoming infected with a cancerous Russian disease (Luostarinen 1989). The effect was that in rightist thinking anti-Russianism became a central narrative on which to build national unity. Thus, while Bolshevik Russia was perceived as a constant threat to the sovereignty and independence of (bourgeois) Finland it also existed as a defining radicalized Other upon which an identity

The ontological significance of Karelia   161 and mission for independent Finland could be built. Throughout the course of the 1920s and 1930s this mission was highly securitized and framed in terms of Finland as an outpost guarding the borders of Western civilization from eastern barbarism (Browning 2008, pp.131–136; Paasi 1996, p.171). In this sense, the securitization of Bolshevik Russia as an existential threat was offered up on the right of Finnish society as the basis for a sense of national unity, purpose and meaning, and as one that might also contain ontological anxieties about the internal direction and cohesion of the country. The threat of Bolshevik Russia was therefore a considerable source of identity and ontological security for the new nation-state, and one reflecting Rumelili’s category of ‘stable conflict’ in which the identification and securitization of an external and morally inferior Other ‘as an object of fear, and a source of imminent threat to survival’, provides systems of meaning and certitude, thereby displacing existential anxieties with concrete threats to be ‘managed, attacked and endured’. Despite having gained independence, the prospects for conflict with the Soviet Union were enhanced by continued dissatisfaction about the perceived lack of congruence between Finland’s national and territorial borders. Across the political right, the national mission was not confined to protecting the borders of Western civilization, but was extended to the need to build a Greater Finland through liberating the cultural kinfolk beyond the national borders (Rintala 1962, p.74). While the most ambitious envisaged annexing Estonia, Western Bothnia (in Sweden), Finnmark (in Norway) and large swathes of Russian territory, Karelia remained the primary goal (Paasi 1996, p.101). Such securitized arguments proved motivating. In 1918, for example, with tacit support of the government, Finnish volunteers launched a military incursion across the border, with plans drawn up for a full invasion in fulfilment of annexing Karelia (Kangaspuro 2000; Rintala 1974, p.421). The most significant action, however, took place during the Second World War, in what in Finland is known as the Continuation War (1941–1944). During this conflict Finland aligned with German forces to launch an offensive deep into Soviet territory. For nationalists, the prospect of fulfilling the national mission by incorporating Karelia and making Finland whole was enthusiastically embraced.

Rearticulation and silencing during the Cold War In the end, however, Finland lost the war and the post-war settlement proved costly. Finland was saddled with paying a large war indemnity to the Soviet Union, the positioning of a Soviet military base at Porkkala on a peninsula west of Helsinki, was required to withdraw to the 1940 borders and on top of that was forced to cede to the Soviet Union Petsamo, its Arctic gateway. Meanwhile, 420,000 refugees – almost all of them Karelian by background – needed to be resettled in Finland, with this highly symbolic of the failure of wartime dreams of annexation. Combined, the lost war, the post-war settlement and the loss of Karelia proved a traumatic experience for the nation. The loss of territory and homes in Karelia

162  Christopher S. Browning and Pertti Joenniemi was felt by many as a grave injustice, while in the immediate post-war years there was a deep sense of vulnerability, anxiety and dread that the fate of Karelia might yet await the rest of Finland. Throughout the Cold War, however, Finland retained its independence and even developed what was widely perceived at the time as a mutually beneficial relationship with the Soviet Union. In this respect, the Cold War period can be seen as one characterized by an initial shift from the inter-war position of ‘stable conflict’ (low anxiety, high fear) to one of ‘unstable conflict’ (high anxiety, high fear), with this in turn shifting nearer to a position of ‘conflict in resolution’ (high anxiety, low fear) in Rumelili’s scheme. To understand how this was possible requires understanding, both how previous enemy images of the Soviet Union/Russia were gradually transcended, and how the privileged and mythologized position of Karelia in Finnish nationalist narratives was reconfigured. Arguably this took place through a desecuritization process that combined strategies of both rearticulation and silencing. Notably, the most significant move was made by Finland’s post-war president, Juho Paasikivi (1946–1956), who called for a complete reappraisal of the bases of post-war Finnish foreign policy, which was to be premised upon a fundamental rearticulation of established inter-war understandings of the Soviet Union. Instead of being driven by an inherently expansionist ideological impulse, Paasikivi claimed the Soviet Union was much like other great powers, with largely limited and strategic interests. So long as Finland was sensitive to those interests the Soviet Union would respond favourably (Hanhimäki 1997, p.11). Paasikivi argued that the Finns’ failure to understand this during the inter-war period was a direct result of their misperception of Soviet/Russian identity. For Paasikivi, inter-war Finns had been blinded by an unjustified hatred of the Russians, with the depiction of the eastern neighbour as the ‘hereditary enemy’ resulting in reckless foreign policy choices (Paasikivi 1956, p.14). Paasikivi’s attempt to dampen down fears of the Soviet Union by presenting it as a normal great power was bold. As noted above, being premised on rejecting established worldviews and systems of meaning, rearticulation strategies can generate significant anxieties that can provoke backlash in favour of established understandings. Made in the aftermath of a devastating war it was perhaps unsurprising therefore that not everyone rushed to embrace the new narrative, and for many fears of future Soviet annexation remained high, although as time passed these too weakened. In itself, however, this effort to rearticulate the nature of the Soviet Union and the potential threat it might pose to Finland was not considered sufficient. It was therefore accompanied by moves designed to further promote the Soviet Union’s desecuritization and the reconfiguration of Finnish national identity through silencing practices. For instance, rightist organizations (now labelled ‘fascist’) like the Academic Karelia Society and the Civil Guards were prohibited; inter-war politicians were encouraged to step aside, with several wartime leaders imprisoned. Particularly notable, however, was a systematic process of eradicating negative images of the Soviet Union from the public domain with, for example, libraries destroying hundreds of books, disparaging references to the Soviet Union being erased from school textbooks, ‘unsuitable’ gramophone records being removed

The ontological significance of Karelia   163 from the archives of the national broadcaster, and the removal of ‘anti-Soviet’ monuments (Salokangas 1996, p.117). As the Cold War progressed, such silencing practices became increasingly self-fulfilling (and socially pernicious) as social organizations – and citizens more generally – increasingly responded to government demands for self-censorship in respect of the eastern neighbour – a tendency that became one element of the pejorative label of Finlandization during the Cold War. To this extent, while silencing practices might have helped reinforce the strategy of rearticulation by curtailing the space available for alternative narratives openly questioning Paasikivi’s reappraisal of the Soviet Union’s identity and interests, it also had the potential to generate significant anxieties for those citizens who challenged the norm, and who faced social opprobrium, and in the case of journalists, even threats of imprisonment (Salminen 1999, p. 16). Meanwhile, despite its intention, the silencing strategy also seems to have masked rather than resolved extant fears, insofar as silencing was premised on fears that imprudence could ultimately provoke Soviet aggression – a view that returned after the end of the Cold War. Unsurprisingly, silencing practices were also extended to discussion of Karelia, and nationalist sentiments towards the territory were sacrificed for the overall goal of preserving independence and sovereignty. Various efforts to raise the issue and place it on the Finnish foreign policy agenda and that of Finnish-Soviet relations failed (Kangaspuro 2012, pp.30–31). Indeed, the Soviets actively threatened negative consequences should the Finns decide to raise the issue at the 1946 Paris Peace Conference (Polvinen 1986, pp.230–231). For his part, Paasikivi told a delegation of Karelian members of parliament to dampen their aspirations, warning them: ‘It is not the small nations which decide things now, but the large ones which draw the borders they want on the map; the victors decide’ (quoted in Polvinen 1986, p.159). However, while public discussion of the Karelia question was dissuaded, from 1968– 1972 President Kekkonen, although pursuing quite cautious policies in public, did raise the issue secretly with Soviet leaders on several occasions. According to Max Jakobson (2003, pp.219–220), Kekkonen was actually obsessed with the question of Karelia and thought that regaining Karelia would significantly enhance public support for the restrictive policies pursued domestically. In particular, Kekkonen proposed an exchange of territory, whereby in return for receiving Karelia, Finland would grant the Soviet Union significant territorial concessions in Lapland (Suomi 1994, p.480–84).2 The proposal is instructive on several counts. First, it indicates the extent to which territorial sovereignty over Karelia continued to evoke emotional resonance among Finnish leaders and how its loss was viewed as ontologically damaging to Finland’s sense of selfhood. Second, it is indicative of the extent to which Karelia remained a mythologized and privileged part of the homeland, at least when compared to Lapland.

Replacement and fading in post-Cold War Finland The end of the Cold War and the break-up of the Soviet Union resulted in a considerable amount of soul-searching and critical reflection on the nature of Finnish-Soviet relations in Finland, one result of which was that previous

164  Christopher S. Browning and Pertti Joenniemi desecuritizing strategies of rearticulation and silencing were challenged and to differing degrees delegitimized. The suppression of public debate and criticism, and the widespread adherence to demands for self-censorship occasioned by the Finlandization phenomenon, was no longer seen as the prudent course of action for a small state with a great power neighbour, but was now viewed by many as having had a much more pernicious effect on the quality of Finnish democracy (see Majander 1999). This critique of attempts to desecuritize Finnish-Russian relations and debate about Karelia through silencing practices was, in the 1990s, in turn accompanied by a revisionist understanding of the nature of the Soviet threat. Although such processes of critical reflection resulted in a renewed tendency to depict the eastern neighbour as Finland’s historical threatening Other, arguably the principal securitizing move here was one about Finland’s own past behaviour, whereby the fundamental threat of the Cold War was not so much posed by the Soviet Union, but by what the Finns did to themselves. Critics, for example, spoke of Finnish leaders having made a Faustian deal with the Soviet leadership after the war, following which they acted in symbiosis with their foreign masters (Majander 1999, p.89). Finnish behaviour was depicted as obsequious, submissive and sycophantic, with internal Finlandization a matter of national shame and humiliation – at least for critics. In this respect, such critiques resonate with a replacement strategy, whereby desecuritization of one relationship is facilitated through the securitization of something else (in this case a prior rendering of the Finnish self). Restoring national pride and ontological stability would therefore require reinstituting democratic principles of open discussion and vigorous political debate. This openness to debate was also evident over Karelia. As indicated, during the Cold War Finnish leaders, including Finland’s last Cold War president, Mauno Koivisto (1982–1994), contributed to keeping Karelia-related discussion on a backburner in favour of prioritizing the normalization of relations with the Soviet Union/Russia. Central to this strategy was extricating Finland from its previous treaty-bound commitments of the post-World War II years and establishing closer links with, and eventually membership of, the European Union (Kangaspuro 2012, p.67). In particular, the Karelian issue was seen as closed in view of various peace treaties and Finland’s having signed the final document of the CSCE, i.e. a document premised on the inviolability of existing borders in Europe. However, the end of the Cold War and the subsequent flexibility shown by the Soviet Union, in particular in respect of German re-unification, generated hopes among the Finnish public that this flexibility might also extend to the Karelian question. Hence, with underlying fears of the eastern neighbour diminishing, the strategy of silencing no longer worked and a new approach had to be instituted. What resulted was a more open approach, but one that continued to acknowledge the sensitive nature of the issue. Thus, despite statements indicating that until such time as Russia raised the issue the matter should be seen as closed; in the new spirit of openness various officials also actively endorsed open discussion of the issue as a sign of a healthy democracy (Forsberg 1995, p.215). As President Martti Ahtisaari put it in 1998 in respect of the question of sovereignty over Karelia: ‘It is part of civilized society

The ontological significance of Karelia   165 that variant opinions too may be expressed … [I would be] … the last one to deny the people any such discussion’ (see Ainola 1998, p.58). Indicative here is that since the end of the Cold War calls for restitution have once again been raised within Finnish society. These have principally come from organizations, like the Karjalan Liitto (The Finnish Karelian League) and Pro Karelia, who represent the Karelian refugees and their descendants and are in particular concerned with restitution or compensation for their lost properties. Such organizations, however, have also discussed the possibility of returning Karelia to Finnish sovereign jurisdiction. In this respect, while the previous emphasis on silencing discussion of Karelia might have removed it as a direct point of contention in Finnish-Soviet relations during the Cold War, it also indicates that the suppression of discussion postponed, rather than resolved, the issue. It should also be noted, however, that while public debate on the issue has been endorsed at the highest levels, Finnish governments have continued to indicate they have no desire to unilaterally raise the issue with Russia at an official level, with Finland’s post-Cold War presidents and governments consistently arguing that the border question is not a meaningful political objective. In part, this reflects Russia’s continued sensitivity towards the issue, with President Putin warning in 2000 that any discussion on borders would threaten to ‘ruin’ the countries’ relations (Goble 2000). In this respect, Karelia is no longer considered so important as to risk damaging the Finnish-Russian relationship. This, though, raises the question why? One explanation is that since the end of the Cold War the ontological foundations of Finnish nationalism and the grounds on which national self-esteem is to be achieved has begun to change. In fact, space has been opened up for a reformulation of national self-narratives, the result being that Herderian and Hegelian principles, which were previously combined into an emphasis on the need to unite the Finnish tribes into a single state, centred on the presumed territorial heartland of the nation, have lost influence. The decline in standing of the territorial principle in respect of Karelia has arguably been driven through several processes. At the general level it has reflected Finland’s post-Cold War drive to be accepted as a full member of the West and the European community of nations more specifically (Browning 2002). In the early 1990s, for example, it was realized that reigniting a territorial dispute with Russia was only likely to undermine Finland’s chances of EU membership (Forsberg 1995, p.216). Instead, Finland sought to position itself as a responsible member of the international community by adhering to the principles of the CSCE that precisely encourage states to refrain from making such claims. More particularly, such restraint should also be seen in the context of the then ongoing fragmentation of Yugoslavia (Saarikoski 1997, p. 91). Not making claims on Karelia and provoking Russia was as such a way of signalling that instead of being mired in the territorial politics of modernity, Finland had embraced the new world of supposedly post-national, post-territorial politics. Finland was not East European (Balkan), but a level headed rational West European. Put differently, there was little desire to replace anxieties generated during the Cold War by the constant need to explain Finland’s particular

166  Christopher S. Browning and Pertti Joenniemi relationship with the Soviet Union to foreign audiences, with new anxieties that any condemnation of renewed claims on Karelia might be expected to bring. This decline in the salience of the territorial principle, however, has also been evident in a more fundamental restructuring within governmental and business circles of the perceived ontological foundations of the salient features of the international system. In this restructuring, geopolitical mind-sets emphasizing territorial borders have increasingly been replaced by geoeconomic mind-sets closer to a Herderian than a Hegelian viewpoint, and primarily concerned with how best to make one’s mark in a globalizing world. From this perspective, success and national self-esteem are increasingly seen as dependent upon successfully integrating into globalized markets and securing a seat at the tables where the major decisions are made. At the specific level of Karelia, such ontological shifts have in part been a result of more experiential factors. With the opening of the border, thousands of Finns took the opportunity to visit Karelia. However, instead of discovering the mythical promised land, for many the overriding impression was one of economic stagnation, backwardness and a land that had been largely Russified (e.g. through name changes and the removal of historical memorials). Many became disillusioned. This is not to say Karelia has altogether lost its evocative role in Finnish national identity discourse, but rather that the nature of this role has begun to change. Particularly important is reconciliation with the loss of Karelia and its replacement with a truly mythical Karelia that need not be so obviously tied to a specific territory. Indeed, confronted with the economic and social realities of the region it rather seems that the value of Karelia for Finnish national identity has, for many people, shifted from its location as a particular territorial space, precisely to its status as a mythical and fantastical construct whose actual location and bordering are largely irrelevant (cf. Harle & Moisio 2000, pp.115–117). To this extent, the Karelian issue is now one characterized by ‘peace’ (low anxiety, low fear) and is no longer a ‘conflict in resolution’ (high anxiety, low fear). What this points to is a process of desecuritization through fading. Karelia has stopped being a point of conflict because its significance in the construction of Finnish national identity has transformed owing to a more general shift in how the needs of ontological security and national self-esteem are to be achieved in postCold War Finland. Two things seem to be important in this respect. First, the post-Cold War emphasis on the emergence of a post-territorial politics, most evident in the breaking down of borders in the context of European integration, has downgraded the importance of questions of (extra)territorial sovereignty. In this context, the exteriority of Karelia has even proved something of a resource for a nation keen to demonstrate its post-Cold War European credentials. Instead of asserting claims of territorial sovereignty the emphasis has rather been on transforming the divisive border into a unifying frontier, a place of exchange, cooperation and dialogue – a place for exploring a new less exclusionary politics. An initial move in this direction was evident in the signing of the Nearby Region Agreement in 1992, through which the Finnish and Russian

The ontological significance of Karelia   167 governments permitted municipalities on either side of the border to engage in cooperative dialogue outside of the states’ direct control (Eskelinen et al. 1999, p.333). Also important has been the improvement of cross-border road and rail infrastructures, the creation of new border crossing points – now straddling a border that was closed for some 70 years – and the proliferation of cooperative business ventures (Goble 2000). In particular, the establishment of the Euroregio Karelia in 2000 as a vehicle for cooperation, comprising of the Karelian Republic on the Russian side and three different regions on the Finnish side, testifies to the dominance of a new and cooperative territorial logic (Cronberg 2003; Scott 2013). The coincidence of national territorial boundaries with state boundaries therefore appears to have lost some of its motivating force in the national project, as also evidenced in that there exists an increasing amount of cross-border cooperation based on local and regional initiatives, i.e. cooperation and contacts that are detached from those of the states. Thus, while Karelia remains salient to Finnish culture, the belongingness of Karelia, and either/or delineations of political space more generally, have declined in importance, thereby allowing the border increasingly to connect rather than isolate (Joenniemi 1998, p.199). Second, while Karelia remains important to Finnish national identity; it increasingly appears to be less of a holy territory for a nation that in the post-Cold War period has actively embraced globalization as the principal challenge of the contemporary age. Put differently, the myth of Karelia has increasingly been pushed aside by new myths of the Finns’ entrepreneurial spirit and technological prowess – most notably crystallized in the late 1990s and early 2000s in proclamations of a new Finnish model of the ‘information society’, epitomized in the success of the IT sector and the occasional repackaging of the country as ‘Nokia Finland’ (Castells and Himanen 2002). Self-esteem and ontological security, therefore, are no longer to be grounded in the tales of the Kalevala and working towards the consolidation of the national space of Greater Finland, but rather through getting to grips with globalization and succeeding in global markets.

Conclusion The case of Karelia is, as an instance of conflict transformation, no doubt both interesting as well as relevant. From the Finnish perspective conflict over Karelia from the end of the nineteenth century through to the end of the Second World War was primarily a result of how the region was imbued with deep ontological significance. Under the influence of Herderian and Hegelian conceptions of the nature and requirements of nationhood Karelia became not just a part of Finland, but representative of its essence and without which Finland could not really be truly Finland or Finnish. In the wake of the Bolshevik revolution, the declaration of independence and a civil war Finnish identity also became increasingly articulated through the radicalization of an enemy image of Russia/Soviet Union. In this context, the inter-war period became one of high-level securitization in Finnish-Soviet relations, with this further heightening desire to annex Karelia into the homeland.

168  Christopher S. Browning and Pertti Joenniemi In this respect, the argument advanced has been that conflict resolution in respect of Karelia has taken place through a two-stage process of desecuritization. After the Second World War desecuritization was driven by dual processes of rearticulation and silencing. The tragedy of the war, it was argued in the Finnish discourse, was a direct result of the failure to understand the true nature of Russian/ Soviet identity. Given the centrality of the eastern neighbour to Finland’s own sense of self-understanding, any rearticulation of Russian identity explicitly implied a renegotiation of what it was to be Finnish and what Finland’s role, international identity and interests should be. The imperative that Finland’s survival was seen as dependent upon the public accepting this new discourse of the nature of Self and Other in turn resulted in active processes of silencing designed to suppress dissenting views and which, as the Cold War progressed, became increasingly oppressive in nature. In this context, public discussion of the Karelian question was viewed as threatening national security. Framed slightly differently, attempts to put the Finnish-Soviet relationship on a more normal footing and to desecuritize the question of Karelia in this context, were, as such, ultimately premised on the high-level securitization of the Finnish-Soviet relationship within internal Finnish politics. In this respect, enforced silencing and the curtailing of democratic debate was a clear instance of exceptional measures being justified through the invocation of questions of national security. Thus, while seeking to dampen fears of the Soviet Union, the strategies of rearticulation and silencing often served only to mask them, and at times (though not always) could generate heightened anxieties, especially among critics. In the post-Cold War period, desecuritization of Karelia has taken different forms. Throughout the 1990s, for example, criticism of Cold War (self)censorship seems to have resulted in a strategy of replacement, whereby internal securitization of the Finnish-Soviet relationship was replaced with a withering critique of Cold War domestic politics and the need to uphold democratic principles of open and free discussion. Such criticisms have generated a certain amount of introspection and anxiety by raising rather fundamental questions about the morality of Finland’s Cold War positioning and what this might say about Finnish identity. More significant, however, has been considerable evidence that a process of fading is underway as a result of which Karelia has simply lost its security significance in most debates about Finnish national identity. Central to this has been the emergence of a different ontological perspective whereby the Herderian/Hegelian emphasis on organic national essences and territorial sovereignty has been displaced as the central grounds on which claims to national identity are made and national self-esteem sought. While Karelia remains ontologically significant, this significance has gradually been stripped of its territorial imperative, and now essentially resides on the mythical plane. Instead of the territorial principle – and securitization on that basis – exercising nationalist minds, increasingly ontological security and national self-esteem are understood as being gained through successfully playing the new games of Europeanization and globalization. These games, and the attached routines, allow for the containment of anxiety with less emphasis on securitization.

The ontological significance of Karelia   169

Notes 1 The area, consisting mainly of the Karelian Isthmus and the Ladoga Karelia, comprises more than a tenth of Finland’s total area. As such, ‘Karelia’ tends to have divisive connotations. It refers in Russia to the Republic of Karelia, whereas in Finnish discussion it usually refers to the ceded areas. Notably, Karelia has never existed as a distinct and unified entity and has often appeared as mythical in nature and figures as an ‘imagined community’ par excellence (Harle 2000; Harle and Moisio 2000; Katajala 2012; Paasi 1996; Jukarainen, 2009). 2 Finland was able to regain the Porkkala base in 1956 and reached an agreement in 1963 with the Soviet Union on renting the Saima canal connecting Lake Saimaa (via Viborg) with the Gulf of Finland. The discussions on these two issues have, however, remained largely detached from that over Karelia, indicating that Karelia remains ontologically in a separate category.

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9 Decolonizing security and peace Mono-epistemology versus peace formation Oliver P. Richmond

Introduction The northern conception of security, peace and order, as an evolved form of ‘nature’ underpins western states’ foreign and donor policy. It guides their interventions through and outside of the UN system, and donor-state/NGO relations in general, especially with the global south. Conflict resolution, conflict management, conflict transformation, peacebuilding and statebuilding, are often thought to be akin to modernization, bringing progress through neo-trusteeship frameworks. From the latter perspective, they are based on a rationality aimed at educating disruptive ‘natives’ in the universal ways of post-Enlightenment peace-making, institution building, a priori shared norms, rights, and the good life. Peacebuilding and statebuilding demanded normative and institutional reform along such lines. They are often led by external expertise, and not infrequently, some exercise of power (governmentality, soft power, conditionality, etc.). This also implies a north-south hierarchy, across space, time, systems, norms and culture, resting on power relations embedded in uneven development and access to the industrial power modernization has provided the global north. The state and the international architecture of governance are normally seen as the central sites through which power is exercised in order modernize, develop, and produce, and this positionality has become a site of securitization. Conflict management, transformation, peacebuilding, and statebuilding in turn have been harnessed to respond to this type of securitization, reflecting a concern with maintaining an existing view of the liberal peace, stabilizing its peripheries and the existing global hierarchy, normative framework and distribution of material resources. This has two sides, where the liberal/ neoliberal framework is seen to be progressive, or where it is perceived by subjects as oppressive and a reflection of historical and global injustice. In terms of peace, this represents a rejection of the diversity within the contemporary international system, of states and societies, political and economic systems, as well as cultural, identity, and religious matters. Pragmatic concerns relating to scarce resources and entrenched hierarchies of their distribution are dominant. That this is often argued in the name of peace and security suggests the need for the ‘decolonization’ of both concepts, which would benefit from a crosspollinated examination through both eirenist stances (a positive hybrid peace

Decolonizing security and peace   173 positionality) and securitization theory, and in particular, through critical work on the problems stemming from ontological claims about security. (Rumelili 2007; Buzan and Wæver 2003) Ontological, physical security may be attained for the global north via the endorsement of the liberal peace and international architecture, but given the current crisis of the west, even this cannot be guaranteed. This oversight is partly due to the North’s methodological blind spot, its epistemological colonization of concepts like security and peace, and partly an exercise of its power (direct, structural and governmental forms of). This power is claimed to emanate from the global north/west’s normative superiority, more sophisticated political and economic architecture, developmentalism, and the rejection of tradition and communalism over modernity and individualism. What is ontologically secure for the global north may therefore be disruptive for the global south (as Bilgin and İnce also discuss in this volume). Yet at the same time, southern partners in development, peacebuilding, and statebuilding often seek to draw on northern epistemologies for peace and the state. This chapter examines the link between liberal peacebuilding/neoliberal statebuilding and a colonial epistemology through which in-group/outgroup dynamics of peace and security are exacerbated rather than resolved by conceptual ‘mono-ontologies’, which actually represent specific epistemologies associated with power. It argues that pluralism is required if the broad rights and representative impetus of progressive politics reposition peace as emerging not solely from the international or the state, but from local dynamics of ‘peace formation’ (Richmond 2012b, 2013). It also examines if and how such a non-essentialized and non-instrumentalized ontological security might emerge through peace formation, meaning ontological pluralism (Rumelili Chapter 1): an assemblage of local, civil mobilization and agency for peace, coexistence, rights, needs, etc. This is a practical, transversal, and trans-scalar phenomenon that often recognizes the immutability of the dynamics emerging from the colonial history of contemporary mainstream views of security. What do peace and security look like to its subjects in a contingent world?

Liberal/neoliberal epistemologies of peace Liberal peace frameworks effectively claim they represent ‘nature’ in its most advanced form and have recurrently rejected the ‘local’ as a contextual epistemological nexus for the reworking of security, order and peace. Instead, they insist on the need to prioritize international frameworks for order, designed in the context of the global North’s modernization process and the security threats it has faced. This has rested on a liberal peace blueprint, or in other words an epistemological framework that denotes security, and when challenged on identity or other grounds, may produce insecurity (see Rumelili Chapter 1). Liberal peace and neoliberal statebuilding represent the global North’s claims for ontological security for its norms, systems, laws, architecture, rationalities for politics and economics, and its historical interests. This has been taken up at among elite, bureaucratic, state, institutional, and business sectors around the world, as part

174  Oliver P. Richmond of the two waves of decolonization after World War II and since the end of the Cold War. They have expected in return, security, modernization and development on an industrial scale, assistance with statebuilding, recognition, and the agency that provides for states to act in order to provide security and well-being. They have also expected leeway to pursue personal interests, hence the ‘authoritarian democracies’ that have emerged from Cambodia to Afghanistan. This has been the character of the liberal peace framework, derived as it is from the victor’s peace imposed in 1945 and consolidated through the UN and Bretton Woods system. The European state-system was expanded during the subsequent period of decolonization according to the same model, as Tilly points out (Tilly 1990). Since the end of the Cold War, the liberal peace, and related attempts to build the neoliberal state (which is often failed by design because of its non-contextual, neoliberal character) have continued this project of the liberal peace and its inherent ontological assumptions. In parallel, both international and local actors view each other in similarly linear and fixed mono-ontological frames. Local actors often focus on fixed identities and boundaries from which conflict management would be derived, whereas international actors focus on the primitive and oriental political subject they perceive to be local actors. Both use these views in order to construct a discussion of conflict and peace inevitably based on access to direct or structural power. However, long-standing attempts at both have confronted alterity around the world, sparking off resistance and critical agency as a consequence (Richmond 2011a). Mono-ontological approaches to security reproduce similar, negative peace frameworks, in which neither self nor other have physical or existential security. Nevertheless, following Foucault’s understanding of how structural power sparks resistance, which becomes effective because power cannot be held eternally but instead circulates, they also inadvertently provoke more pluralist approaches for conflict resolution to emerge (Foucault 1979, 1980, 1997, 2008; Picket 1996). The exercise of power – even in the name of liberal peacebuilding or neoliberal statebuilding – in the name of ontological security has led to counter-exercises of power, resting often on ‘hidden forms of resistance’ (Scott 1985, 1990, 2009). Though these may be seen as contrary to peace from a universalist perspective, it may also be the case that such critical agency seeks to maintain a pluralist notion of peace, in which alterity is mediated and ontology is diverse, bridged, and contingent. More pluralist ontologies of peace – a positive or emancipatory peace – would reflect a post-liberal, hybrid form. Such pluralism would have to contend with mono-ontological accusations of relativism, of course. This may sound fanciful, but it has already, and is continuing to, come into being: from the mediated state in the Great Horn of Africa to the local and contextualized peace infrastructures that have emerged in South Africa, Ghana, and Colombia among others, to the ‘peace formation’ efforts of ‘civil society’ actors from the Balkans to Cyprus (Odendaal 2010). Ontological security would be a basis for these developments, meaning the attempts of individuals, groups, and ultimately the polity to gain security without undermining their own, or others, basic understandings, narratives and routines (Rumelili Chapter 1).

Decolonizing security and peace   175

Ontological security and its implications for peace Ontological understandings of security and insecurity, physical and ideational suggest that peace may also be subject to a similar scrutiny (Rumelili Chapter 1). Negative and positive forms, liberal and post-liberal, every day, emancipatory, and hybrid forms can usefully be categorized in terms of their mono-epistemological universalism or their plurality for self and group. They can be evaluated for what they offer in terms of negative peace (physical, but possibly threatened) or positive peace (physical, stable, and unthreatened, across a broad range of areas, social, cultural, economic, political, environmental). An ontological peace may well represent a search for a settled and legitimate form in everyday settings. Many epistemologies of negative peace (neoliberalism, liberal peace, etc.) may claim to offer ontological security, but they general do this only for a specific in-group. In the contemporary environment of IR, after the crisis of the liberal peace, in the middle of the crisis of neoliberalism, and at a point where western/ northern power is being diluted, it has become crucial to examine how a nonessentialized and instrumentalized understanding of peace, order, and security be understood (Rumelili Chapter 1). This ‘decolonization of peace’ requires a critical interrogation of the liberal peace, the neoliberal state and the international architecture of peacebuilding as it has been constituted since the end of the Cold War. The liberal peace is made up of security architecture, a set of international and national norms, laws, and institutions, domestic democracy, a global economy, and a developmental civil society. These are homogenous across actors, indicating shared norms, identity, institutions, law, social, and economic frameworks. This has been formed in historical terms through the struggle over power, representation and rights since the Middle Ages, principally in the west. The end of the colonial system in the mid-twentieth century both provided the impetus for the spread of this system and because of the dominant position of the US and Europe, allowed the west to establish its US-driven epistemological framework for security and peace as a universal system. Though it was internally contested by right and left over a negative or positive peace, this appeared to represent an ‘end of history’ – in other words the ontology of peace. This system represents a modernist architecture for peace and security, resting on enforcement, law, international agreements, and institutional and market compliance (Doyle 1983; Doyle & Sambanis 2006; Call & Cousens 2008; Krasner 2004; Paris 2004; Snyder 2000; Cooper 2007). It is a complex mix of power, interests, norms, institutions and actors, captured within a single ontological setting. From a security, institutional and market perspective this works through hard and soft power. It exercises structural power and governmentalism to reform its subjects– often from the global south or east– maintaining a specific international hierarchy. It now goes without saying that this epistemic system is not an ontological framework, and is under great stress, meaning a reconceptualization of security, peace and order is now required. If theories of peace and security are to respond to such stresses, they need to challenge

176  Oliver P. Richmond their own ontological basis in a world in which interests, norms, and actors are expanding, and which at the same time demands that all are represented. As challenges have mounted to the liberal peacebuilding and neoliberal statebuilding model, its universal claims in various areas have become more clearly contested. The securitization and desecuritization of each aspect of conflict and peace from the hegemonic view of the liberal-institutionalist occurs within the parameters set by the claim that non-liberal subjects need to ‘become liberal’ to experience peace and development (Richmond 2009a). This may be summarized in the following terms, each challenge partly pointing to how a specific universal claim about an aspect of the liberal peace, resting on an epistemology drawn from the global North’s experience of security, peace and the state, creates tension with its others: 1

2

3

4

5 6

Legality lies in the international and states-system, and not in local, customary, or historical practices. Authority is centralized and emanates from the more modern, industrialized, regulated, and institutional practices (political, economic, and social) of the global north and its claim of secular, individualistic, and institutional development. Yet local legitimacy and authority is crucial to the survival of most communities in practice. Law is defined via the modern liberal state ‘programming’ framework, yet the statebuilding process does not provide sufficient resources for its practice, so most law in many post-conflict environments involves customary, elder and tribal systems along with non-western understandings of community or citizenship, which are in tension with the neoliberal state. Security is defined in terms of a territorial and national entity, containing a fixed population, requiring enforceable boundaries, as with Tilly’s depiction of the emergence of the modern European state (Tilly 1990). Defining the population, and the boundaries, is an act of power, often leading to violence. Defining security as ‘human security’ on the other hand also threatens traditional sovereignty. Security is not defined in terms of the historical positionality of a specific society, thus threatening its identity. Democracy is defined as an institutional and bureaucratic framework, creating competition over its control and crowding out substantive participation, which might have historically occurred in different formats in context (customary, tribal, community, consensual, etc.). Development is defined as occurring through donors or markets, when often communities see both as predatory, and undermining their traditional systems of welfare and subsistence, which also maintain a fragile political balance. Human rights and gender equality are ‘mainstreamed’ with little regard for local practices (often referred to in the context of ‘dignity’) which also contribute to both. Internationals complain of ‘relativism’ when community actors point out that they have versions of both in their historical political systems and seek a pluralist or hybrid compromise.

As Rumelili has argued (Chapter 1) all of these different levels of, and strategies for, peacebuilding and statebuilding, rest on a similar attempt to

Decolonizing security and peace   177 construct ontological forms of security, perhaps mostly weighed in favour of the global north due to power relations, dependent upon a blueprint international state-level architecture as well as a homogenous form of citizenship. But they are actually knowledge systems accompanying power, and therefore represent at best conflict management and a negative peace. In actual fact these rest upon a liberal peace epistemology, inviting a response from subjects which are interested in developing ontological security in an everyday setting. Each area contributes to the state and global peacebuilding architecture, implicitly buttressing its claim to universality. Ironically, as Rumelili also points out in Chapter 1, this has created insecurity at the ontological level of its subjects (who are not willing to ‘become liberal’ comprehensively). Some challenge that system, and others began to exercise local, critical agency in order to form a peace that would be contextually legitimate rather than merely situated in the nexus between UN, IFI, donor, and INGO preferences. There are significant implications for peace stemming from this logic. Any victor’s peace would offer epistemological security for any in-group within the society, state or system involved. But this would not apply to any out-groups. Perhaps more importantly, this indicates that peace operates in a similar mode to security at an ontological level. An alternative epistemology of peace would inevitably be present among any out-group, which would be said to be ontologically and physically insecure. So a victor’s peace must either assimilate or marginalize difference through direct and structural power, probably using force, to maintain the optimum of epistemological security for its in-group. Similarly with the liberal peace architecture, this logic could be said to hold, except that it circumvents the problem of alterity by claiming that all out-groups would ‘become liberal’ by virtue of its universality. This represents governmentality, and has, of course, has been heavily contested theoretically and empirically. Both the victor’s peace and the liberal peace require the maintenance of a border or frontier between ingroups and out-groups, in order to preserve power relations as they are, the status quo, and normative as well as material superiority. The question is whether ontological and physical security denotes such universalism in peace or whether multiple forms of peace may coexist, contextually framed, but incorporated into the liberal-international peacebuilding architecture. In order to deal with this issue, a post-colonial approach to subaltern knowledge and power about peace and security is required. Peace in these terms would rest on an everyday ontology in which local routines determine its framework, supported by the state and international engagement (Rumelili Chapter 1). Instead, peacebuilding ignores the local struggle for an ontological peace, favouring its own epistemic models. From the perspective of peace- in local, state, and international terms, new questions are emerging. Though the liberal-international architecture of peace has long been established, and the liberal or neoliberal state is an essential part of this, embedded as it is in liberal-international institutions, conceptions of peace and security have been driven by an understanding of the international system

178  Oliver P. Richmond as it was around 1945 and 1990. This means they are dominated by northern perceptions, interests, norms, priorities and pre-occupations, to the extent that they have almost collapsed as meaningful intellectual and policy concepts – in an increasingly networked and interconnected world in which responsibilities, inequalities, rights, needs, law, institutions, as well as environmental, gender, age, and other aspects of global sustainability compete. This means, in the words of Mark Malloch Brown, former head of UNDP, that a ‘global revolution’ is needed (Brown 2011). This would involve the decolonization and broadening of key concepts used to create and sustain order and peace, as well as a reframing of the key institutions, political architectures, and discursive frameworks, in order to reconstruct a more pluralist and less fragile local-to global society. A pluralist and contextual epistemology is required in order to provide legitimacy for states and for international peace architecture, whose legitimacy has waned in its capacity to represent diverse political communities beyond the western, formal, state architecture. In other words, the epistemology of peace must be much closer to ontological security: the everyday practices of security. In order to engage with such notions of peace and security, a new starting point is required. Whereas the modern movements of the twentieth century focused on international, regional, and state-level security, and produced a liberal, democratic, rights-oriented, neoliberal or welfare oriented domestic state as the aim (much contested by socialists, communists, dictators, and authoritarians around the world) the twenty-first century is increasing preoccupied by ‘local’ agencies, identities, institutions, and actors, as well as legitimacy, sustainability, representation and equality, in both peace and security matters. Because the monoepistemology of peace and security only sought to do this for the west/north and endeavour to convert southerners to liberalism/neoliberalism, it was also forced to sanction pluralism. Accusations of relativism are often levelled at arguments that challenge universalism and its security requirements. However, relativism in peace terms might easily also be thought of as pluralism: accommodating difference and scarcity may be achieved through institutions, norms, and rights that recognize and represent different understandings of security and the peace it engenders. Thus, out-group/in-group and self-other dynamics of peace and security continue, but in reality boundaries are blurred, power is deconstructed and circulates. Bridges emerge between self and other, and hybridity is always imminent or present. This phenomena might be explored through ‘peace formation’ (meaning an assemblage of historical, local, customary, social, political, economic, civil mobilization and agency for peace, often aimed at sustainability, coexistence, legitimate authority, rights, needs, etc.). It represents an expression of critical agency, resistance, and subaltern forms of power. This is  a practical, local and global phenomenon which is referred to widely in a scattered literature across social science touching on matters of peace and security. It is often mentioned in private among the personnel of international institutions, or referred to formally in a national context as ‘national ownership’ or ‘resilience’ (both very misleading terms) (Richmond 2012a).

Decolonizing security and peace   179 In reality, peace formation rests on different ontological and epistemological understandings of security, order, institutions and rights, hybridity emerges when local agency is exercised to bridge alterity, to that offered by conventional thinking in the global north. It sees the need for a universal position on peace’s architecture, but this is not associated with power, as the mainstream ontology of security currently is. It is instead built on a pluralist, networked and mediated range of epistemologies. Its ontology might be said to include the accommodation of difference rather than its assimilation. Mono-epistemologies produce only negative forms of peace, as many of the historical lessons of practices of conflict management, conflict resolution, peacekeeping, mediation, and peacebuilding attest. Even despite the fact that peace formation, being based on subaltern agency, cannot counter the direct, structural or governmental power that monoepistemological positions are designed to harness, it continues around the world despite the obvious fragility and contingency it entails. The pluralist epistemology it draws on is, in other words, a great source of legitimacy and therefore sustains subaltern power. It has no particular aim of a homogenous consensus, other than accommodation, reconciliation, recognition and equality. The subaltern power it gathers is becoming increasingly significant in understanding peace and security, the formation of institutions, and the development of international peace architecture.

Ontology, epistemology, and peace formation Peace formation refers to localized, social, customary, religious, ritual, as well as historical, political, economic, and civil society derived practices of peacemaking. It represents relationships and networked processes where indigenous or local agents of peace in a range of settings find ways of establishing peace processes and sustainable dynamics of peace. It operates in an everyday level and represents a search for ontological security through a mix of contextual, state, and international epistemic and material frameworks. In many cases women can be at the forefront, such as in Burundi, Somalia, and Liberia, among others (UNESCO 2003). Often the objective is to provide what are usually public services, such as health and education, in the everyday setting. Peace is made locally in this framework, perhaps individually in hidden and public spaces across a wide range of everyday life activities, but may be supported internationally. One might say it puts society, the village, community, and city at the centre of peace, rather than the state, security and markets. Peace formation approaches interact with contemporary international approaches to peacebuilding and statebuilding. They may occur in the family, community, village, town, or within the state. They may be formal or informal, aim at shaping the state or merely mitigating and improving everyday life. Peace formation processes may be hidden from view to escape sanction from power because they are resistant. They may engage with mundane everyday issues; they may offer ritualistic and historical approaches to conflict. They may shape the state, and they may also shape the international and its peacebuilding practices,

180  Oliver P. Richmond indirectly at least. Localized practices of peace formation are complex but increasingly visible expressions of critical agency aimed at ending violent cycles of state formation, and related power inequalities, often where more formal peace processes have entrenched them. By focusing on hybrid forms of peace, and how they are influenced by local patterns of politics, peace formation may represent a more accurate depiction of the results of peace processes worldwide (Ginty 2008; Richmond 2011b). More generally, it represents a synthesis of conflict management, resolution, peacebuilding and transformation approaches, but it also transcends these mainly western/northern typologies. It highlights the domain of power and its distribution within societies that are pursuing peace autonomously, or with international support. In this regard, the identification of hybrid forms of peace implies that an emancipatory form might emerge reflecting the interests, identities, and needs of all actors, state and non-state alike, but most importantly resting on local legitimacy, which in turn then influences international norms (rather than viceversa). In parallel to recognizing inequalities of power between internationals, state elites, and local peace formers, hybrid forms of peace represent a mixture of local and international agency and legitimacy. Peace formation dynamics are essential for the requisite mutual accommodation and social justice. They imply ontological security in the sense used by Rumelili (Chapter 1), but at the same time they contest the epistemologies of peace offered by internationals (liberal peace/neoliberal states). Much is known about the workings of state-level peace processes as well as the architecture of liberal peacebuilding that has developed at the international level. Far less is known about the local dynamics, institutions, processes, and agencies involved in forming peace and the state locally. Van Tongeren (2011) argues that there are at least 20 post-conflict countries, including Afghanistan, Colombia, Ghana, Kenya, Nepal, and Sierra Leone, where informal and formal, local peace committees and other institutional frameworks have autonomously developed (as in Sierra Leone), or have been assisted by external actors (as in Colombia or Nepal), operated informally (as in Columbia, Sierra Leone and many others) or have gradually been drawn into the formal state (as in Ghana, Timor-Leste, and the Solomon Islands). The resulting hybrid forms of peace have emerged in unexpected places, such as Somalia, Cambodia (SIDA 2003) and Bosnia Herzegovina (Johnson 2010). Such cases may represent a slow and often arduous movement beyond the liberal peace towards what might be called a post-liberal peace (Richmond 2009b; 2011b), where international norms and institutions interact with different, contextual, and localized polities. They also pose an important question, which is whether local forms of legitimacy and norms of peace can equate or connect with international forms, not least when local practices (religious or customary) seem to clash with international human rights standards. This process exposes localinternational power relations making plain that peace also demands their redress. In summary, what is emerging is neither strictly a liberal nor a local form of peace, but a complex assemblage – of related but also separate associations, actors

Decolonizing security and peace   181 and networks – formed through political contestation involving a range of local and international actors (Latour 2007). It challenges traditional notions about the power of elites, internationals, the state, or social actors, as well as the normative frameworks that peace requires. It also challenges conventional wisdom about the need for public mobilization en masse in formal space, institutions, or formats. If a peace process is to be comprehensive then it needs to reach beyond such limitations. Underlying this are significant challenges for any mono-epistemology of peace and security. This blending of the formal and informal aspect of peace and governance is now perceived to be essential for a sustainable form of peace, and connects closely with the idea of ontological security. Peace formation addresses the problem of what do peace and security look like in a contingent/social world to and for its people, and how do we uncover it, join it, and make power (i.e. concentrations of power at the IPE/state level) realize its powerlessness unless it supports the wide variety of peace formation dynamics. Peace in this sense is a ‘habitus’ related to the agencies, norms, culture, history, institutions, laws, and politics of its constituent subjects (Bourdieu 1977). At its periphery it also seeks to operate according to a pluralist epistemology in its encounter with others. Thus, there is an inherent contradiction with its security component which generally uses universalist ontological positions in order to make peripheral subjects comply with dominant interests and power. Perhaps worse though, is the tension with international peace builders and state builders, who cannot ‘see’ peace formation because of the way security and peace are configured in their view of the international peace architecture, methodological limitations, remaining colonial views of southern subjects, neoliberal aspirations, and their adherence to progressive and modernization theories. They adhere to the latter even though these contradict claims to respect political autonomy, local institutions, and ownership, and diversity of identity.

Ontological security and peace formation in practice In Somalia, long considered in western circles as the most anarchic of places, local clan governance has emerged through local organizations where the state and international actors are absent. Internationals see Somalia as subject to most levels of insecurity, and in particular as a threat to the liberal peace ontology. In one of the longest running failed states in modern history, informal systems for security, governance, law, economic support and even representation have emerged through networks of civil, customary, and business actors in an ‘informal mosaic’ which is forming a new, localized, peace in each instance (Menkhaus 2006). Menkhaus (2006, p.87) has described this as a ‘radical localization’ of politics via ‘informal, overlapping polities loosely held by clan leaders and others’ also including elders, the business community, and clergy forming tense coalitions over power, resources, as well as judicial and law enforcement matters. Indeed, neither internationals nor the centralized state have provided peace, but local peace formation actors have been more successful in their own way. Customary systems there have been instrumental in both war and peace, and equally vital

182  Oliver P. Richmond to both. Indeed, Menkhaus goes as far as to argue that the international system itself is mirrored by the complex system of blood payments, customary law, negotiation, and force. Such processes have also actively worked to undermine the revival of a centralized state, because the state itself is viewed as a potential threat to peace. In turn the vestiges of state still functioning often seek to marginalize the threat of local peace formers to its remaining power (Menkhaus 2006, p.76). Often, detailed, formal agreements are made and mediated between customary elders and district or state officials (as in Ethiopia) (Hagmann 2007, pp.6, 18). Where the state has been absent this peace formation role has been the only possibility (Hagmann 2007, p.9). It has provided some level of social and material security, a rule of law, a customary order, supported by elders, society, the business community, and even militias, as also in Puntland and most obviously in Somaliland. This has arisen through the Guurti (an upper parliamentary house), a legislative and cultural link between traditional, informal and modern, formal governance without which there would be no rule of law or social order. It bridges and negotiates in order to maintain peace (Richards 2012, p. 154–155). This has rested on hybrid forms of governance, incorporating aspects of the modern state with informal, local, historical processes in Somaliland. Menkhaus (2006, p.82) describes this as a phenomenon ‘without government, but not without governance’. What this suggests is that physical insecurity is not necessarily matched by existential security, even where a peace process or the institutions of state are coming into being. The northern assumption that the state is a vital vehicle for peace does not hold in this case either, suggesting significant epistemological disagreement. Local peace formation processes across the region, of course, small scale and little able to deal with direct violence, are actually ontologically secure in their understanding of how peace may be made, and with what outcome. They are also unanimous that a centralized state is a threat to both ontological security and their epistemic framework of peace. Neither has the liberal peace made a great impression, or has much in the way of a hybrid peace or state emerged as yet (despite very significant structural and governmental power lying in the hands of internationals and donors). Radically different ontologies of security for self and others exist in this case at local, state, and international levels. Homogenization, standardization, liberalization, westernization and other familiar motifs of peace and conflict resolution, and their claims to produce ontological security through universalism, have not impressed and have been largely ignored. Such patterns of subaltern agency with respect to peace-making are common, though they often differ in their approach to building a state and a liberal peace or rejecting them. Even if such processes are not made public or formal they often continue informally or as NGOs that do not want to become part of the state infrastructure though they are significant in the debate on peace locally and at the national level (this is the case with the National Peace Council in Sri Lanka) (Perera 2012). In South Africa a peace architecture emerged at grassroots level as the apartheid system was being dismantled and a liberal state was being built. Many others have since followed, including Ghana, Kenya, South Sudan,

Decolonizing security and peace   183 Togo, and Timor-Leste, often assisted by UNDP support and community forums, women’s groups, track II processes, and mediators. Some of these, including the Kenyan peace architecture have been partly led by women’s groups’ responses to the violence, as in Wajir district (Menkhaus 2008, p.27). Here, a small women’s group started a peace process in the mid-1990s in response to local, ethnic violence, utilizing a number of tools, including customary approaches, which eventually produced a model for partnership between civil society and government around the country (p.26). The search for ontological security has opened up a new, contextual epistemological framework for forming peace. It included clan elders and produced a partnership with formal government actors. Thus, a Wajir Peace and Development committee was formed in 1995, representing a broad swathe of society rather than merely officials and elites. This process was eventually merged into a ‘district development committee’ which brought local civil society, NGOs, and government together. This model soon proliferated across the country, after which donors began to support the process. A number of different models emerged for the local peace committees: some were democratically run and led, while others were run by the district commissioner. In 2001 the government responded by forming the National Steering Committee on Peacebuilding and Conflict Management. After the post-election violence in 2007, an Open Forum was created and a Citizen’s Agenda for Peace was developed by individuals who gathered from all sectors of society in the weeks immediately after the conflict broke out. It drew on this earlier experience. A National Policy on Peacebuilding and Conflict Management emerged in 2009, and peace committees in all districts were set up according to the National Accord and Reconciliation Act of 2008. This process drew in a number of ministries and levels of government and the media, and also was connected to the high-level peace process. But crucially, it was driven and legitimated in civil society and at the grassroots, including many local institutions and norms. In Colombia since the 1990s there have been similar phenomena, which have been supported by the EU and by UNDP. Local institutions, social movements and networks, and other initiatives have been supported, numbering perhaps as many as 400 since 2003 alone. Coalitions have formed across a variety of groups, movements, and networks. These have formed around issues of development, human and women’s rights, and restitution, producing visions of and practice paths to peace, which can be clearly seen as reaching for ontological security. The everyday setting as well as the role of the state and the international is often referred to, in a sense demanding their alignment with ontological security. They represent a high level of local ownership, closely related to local and everyday understandings of conflict issues and how to deal with them. These span local regions caught up in conflict but have not until recently had much impact on formal state institutions. The president has a peace advisor, and a number of other advisors, there is a National Peace Council dating from 1998 led by the president, but they are focused on negative peace approaches, even though a broad range of civil society actors are included. As a consequence such state-level initiatives have not developed the legitimacy that more isolated local initiatives have.

184  Oliver P. Richmond Local initiatives have instead drawn on recent international principles such as local ownership, citizen participation, partnership, and accountability in order to develop local infrastructures for peace. This has allowed a much broader crosssection of actors to converge on a peace agenda than the state has made possible so far. In Afghanistan, there are long-standing traditions of conflict resolution by tribal elders, village councils, the jirga dialogues, and the Peace Shuras or Councils, at local, district and national level. While there is a general aspiration to create a viable state, the emergence of ‘quick impact projects’ underlined that it would be required to be community based. Internationals have tried to strengthen the state, work with the existing elites and look for alternatives. Mirroring the way the quick impact projects brought together the state and the community, this may be emerging in the form of the peace councils, connected to a more formal understanding of peace and stabilization. This is emerging through the Community Development Councils and the National Solidarity Programme run by a government ministry, which though far from successful, have become part of the international expectation about the nature of the state that will emerge. These are driven mainly by localized understandings of peace formation in an Afghan context though there is also clear tension between the local, provincial, state, and international dynamics at work. There are 22,000 such councils in existence which distribute financial resources, provide local governance, and address poverty and unemployment, and well as undertaking conflict resolution roles, often involving forming a network of local actors working on a range of issues from gender to education, political empowerment and accountability. What is also important to note is that moderate Taliban positions are themselves not opposed to democracy, engaging with the international community, and opening up liberal education systems, or inclusive public services. Yet, as in Somalia, the internationals’ assumptions of a centralized neoliberal state which shapes the agency and rights of citizens has actually been strongly resisted on epistemological grounds, whether religious, ideological or cultural, and an ontological security framework has begun to emerge. This is part of an uneasy merger between international expectations for the state and local alterity that may be emerging. After the Lomé Peace Accord in Sierra Leone, a local movement emerged called ‘Fambul Tok’ (Family Talk). It developed in response to what it saw as the contextual weaknesses of international actors. It used traditional ‘bonfire ceremonies’ in order to promote reconciliation in communities, especially where the formal judicial process had been ineffective. Its director, John Caulker argues that internationals see local actors and processes as damaged and compromised, and so disregard its potential, one which his organization was designed to engage with. His organization’s approach provides some interesting contrasts to those of peacebuilders or statebuilders: meetings are held in local, home, contexts; peace is not used to push ideological or political agendas; local traditions are respected; and the whole community can participate on their own terms; projects are designed in situ and not a priori, nor according to external interests. Fambul Tok argues that it ‘fills a void created by the inability of the government and

Decolonizing security and peace   185 international partners to embrace community reconciliation.’ This perhaps reflects a search for ontological security in the context of local, state, and international frameworks for peace, but aimed at rescuing or improving peace formation at the grassroots level. With the exception of Somalia and Afghanistan, most of these cases suggest that the state is vital for security and peace, meaning it is the yardstick by which both are measured. One would therefore assume a better quality peace would emerge where there was a much closer match to northern assumptions about security, the state, and peace, underpinned by an agreed universalism. Nevertheless, even where it is accepted that the state is essential to peace and security, problems still arise. The search for ontological security may expose clashes in the way different communities understand their everyday settings and power relations, even if there is a general agreement with the liberal peace framework, i.e. the epistemological framework for peace. For example, from the early 1990s, conflict resolution workshops run in Cyprus by mainly American or European scholars provided an important platform for social reconciliation to develop. Internationals have long argued that Cyprus does not have an active civil society on either side of the green line, and what there is may be nationalist or very marginalized. Existing networks or organizations, such religious organizations or trade unions (which have a long history of cross community engagement) tend not to focus on peace issues. Most ‘civil society’ in Cyprus has historically been connected to religious organizations or more recently, nationalist political parties (Confidential Diplomatic Source 2011; Loizides Chapter 4). The inter-communal movement has tried to move beyond such parameters, meaning that they were quickly marginalized by nationalist actors. Many in the inter-communal movement quickly came to perceive international attempts to promote the inter-communal movement as both an opportunity to be supported, but also patronizing and indicating a lack of international awareness and sensitivity about the conflict. In these processes, both sides exercised their peace formation agency in the context of the state and its reconfiguration. It might be said that othering only really made sense in the context of the state. In this context, both sides felt insecurity and yet in their social relations, through inter-communal meetings and at the social-cultural level, ontological security was rapidly established. At the political level, this would rapidly dissipate, however. Greek Cypriots felt that the Anglo-American group of academics wanted them to forget the role of the Turkish army and their own dispossession. Turkish Cypriots were suspicious that their independence and autonomy was not being respected. Opposition among government and politicians was great, on both left and right, perceiving the workshops as a threat to their nationalist positions or their control of the state (meaning both the Republic of Cyprus and its political parties and Church led civil society, and the even more top-down Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus) and the blood invested in supporting them. So, while peace formation illustrated potential for accommodation, the fact of the state (s) as an assumed parameter of security and peace, constantly has worked to undermine their efforts. One way

186  Oliver P. Richmond around this has been to shift much of the inter-communal movements’ symbolic presence to a neutral space in the green line. The opening of the Home for Cooperation was a major victory for the inter-communal movement, especially as its location (Ledra Palace) was a site of historic importance for both communities. Indeed, it is now an unwritten rule that everyone cooperates with the House of Cooperation, from both sides and all political persuasions (Confidential Source 2011). This is one sign of the agency and legitimacy of such processes, especially when embedded in a supportive international framework, which has often, but not always been the case. In a sophisticated way participants have renegotiated locally exclusive forms of identity as well as prescriptions from external donors. They have also taken the opportunity to work for broader social and political reform (Hadjipavlou 2010). They have drawn on hidden historical practices of pluralism (Constantinou 2007) and a range of local and international networks in order to form a hybrid peace process which is perhaps more worthy of the name ‘peace process’ than the highlevel talks have been. It has formed a complex assemblage that bridges a range of ethno-national and international divisions and borders. It has often opposed political elites, and has questioned the nature of the state they were negotiating for. The Home for Cooperation represents a renegotiation of the two states on the island away from their current ethno-nationalist frameworks towards an ontological unit for peace and security. In both Kosovo and Bosnia Herzegovina, during the late 1990s and early 2000s, the evolution of peace operations into liberal or more accurately, neoliberal, statebuilding was on public show. Similar dynamics also existed, though in Kosovo there was a consensus on the need for a state, especially among Kosovo Albanians. Internationals were by this point somewhat frustrated with their local counterparts’ tendencies to obstruct or ‘go slow’ on institutional reforms designed to bring the liberal state into being, particularly where these demanded, social, cultural, economic, reform or identity changes (Parish 2010). In other words powerful local interests were manipulating the role the internationals could play. The result in Bosnia was deadlock over the reform of the state, while in Kosovo the result was the bringing into being of a contested state, as opposed to peace, and one that might suffer a further round of partition if nationalist Serbs in Mitrovica and other places had their way. In Bosnia, local peace agencies began to emerge in order to maintain localized forms of cooperation, identity, and opportunities, whereas in Kosovo, the uniting of a pre-existing shadow state with the international’s peace project led to the formation of a new state, at least in formal terms. The achievement of statehood as a priority taking precedence over peace became the order of the day early on in the peacebuilding process in Kosovo. This was partly based on the long-standing experience Kosovans had in running a shadow state and public services under Serb rule since the early 1990s. In Bosnia, local non-cooperation at the elite political level with the OHR, despite its Bonn Powers, made developing the liberal peace very difficult in a highly fragmented state, and in response, a number of civil society organizations in the ground, involved in human rights and transitional justice matters, cultural projects,

Decolonizing security and peace   187 emerged in an attempt to speed up progress. The role of the internationals in both cases was to illustrate how both physical and ontological security – and so peace – would be achieved by creating liberal states with their requisite standards. Not many were convinced. The reality has been the states formed are themselves still sources of conflict and insecurity, and there has been much contestation of their very essence: from their right to exist, their boundaries, institutions, legal norms, and identity. In Kosovo in particular, the contrast between the security the state provides its in-group and out-groups is marked. Peace (negative) and insecurity are being provided simultaneously. In the peace formation community, a number of local political and administrative figures have also begun to take peacebuilding into their own hands in order to provide an ontological framework of security. These processes have taken a long time to emerge (or to become visible to external eyes) (Parish 2010). In BiH, a number of town mayors have undertaken inter-community initiatives, expressing frustration with the slow pace of political reform at the state level, and international approaches. Many citizens see both their own political structures and elites and international approaches to Bosnia as requiring them to rely on their own capacity and resilience while unfairly marginalizing them from the benefits of modernity (Richmond & Kappler 2011). While such movements have remained disaggregated and fragmented in Bosnia, partly because there is little elite agreement on the nature of the postDayton state, in Kosovo, in a context where a new state was the broad aim of the main ethnic group, one might say that a national mobilization took place in which every person who wanted to see a state declared would use his or her position, whether in national politics or bureaucracy, or while working for the range of internationals present, to lobby and advocate for a state. This process of co-option of the UN and international mission into a simultaneous statebuilding and peace formation process through the sum of many small pressures has been very successful, even if it has not addressed the root causes of the conflict (Visoka 2012). At the same time it aspires to the liberal peace with a Kosovan flavour (Montanaro 2009, p. 21). A similar pattern can be seen clearly in Timor-Leste. Emblematic of how the internationals saw their role there, the constitution was written in Portuguese, which the vast majority of the population did not speak, rather than in Tetun (which was in their defence, then an unwritten language). Internationals assumed that there was no-pre-existing system. If it was not written it did not exist (Trindade 2012). Culture and tradition was seen to be powerful, but as alterity was the force which held society and the state back. Ironically, the resistance networks that have maintained a viable Timorese sense of polity and a liberation struggle throughout Indonesian occupation were completely ignored. Yet, the internationals were welcomed into Timor-Leste because the population wanted to modernize, even though they also realized it would mean more disruption. However, given local history, they were incredibly sensitive to any potentially renewed settler-colonist style relationship, and of the need to address the legacy of colonialism and occupation.

188  Oliver P. Richmond Though many Timorese accepted a developmental view of their situation, in which they were regarded as ‘backward’, there was also a recognition that local actors would work in their own way even if internationals tried to stop them. Ironically, the internationals effectively handed power to a tiny Portuguesespeaking elite, which also represented contra the lengthy Timorese liberation struggle a connection with the former colonial power. Thus, the state had a limited reach yet custom provides the context for everyday life (along with the Catholic Church). International actors followed their liberal peacebuilding blueprint but have developed a close understanding of the social, political, economic, and cultural terrain of Timor-Leste, though there were present several NGOs who were much more aware of the local situation.1 Internationals assumed that local resistance, well organized in terms of violent and non-violent action in the past, would not emerge and instead citizens would take up their roles as opportunities provided by the new state framework became available. They ignored the fact this network was crucial to local legitimacy (Unofficial source 2012a). Indicative of the epistemological gap between international and local actors, the collapse that occurred in 2006 was a surprise to the international community despite the growing political tension on the ground, the failure to deal with chronic poverty and unemployment, or to develop public services such as health or education. Many local voices, and some international – such as Sergio Vieira de Mello, the Representative of the UN Secretary General in Timor for a time – had long been making such points. This seemed too narrow too many Timorese, who had a more sophisticated idea of peace in mind and who were expecting more from their long self-determination struggle. Calls for ‘Timorization’ were soon heard. These were effectively epistemological challenges to both the state and the form of peace internationals were offering. After the collapse of 2006, an interesting dynamic occurred after the international community returned. This time they were less focused on running Timor like a ‘UN kingdom’ as Jarat Chopra, also once of the UN operation in Timor, argued, and more on understanding of local knowledge, expertise, and processes (Trindade 2008). This has provided space for hybridization of the liberal peace model and Timorese imaginings of their own distinctive political, social, cultural orders (Ruak 2012), as well as the modification of the market system by a turn to social welfarism. Remarkably, Timor has begun to stabilize far more significantly than before. An act of translation began, expressive of the search for local ontological security (Unofficial source 2012b). In the light of both the liberation struggle and in the Timorese customary context a peace resting on social justice in a local context is widely expected (Boavida 2013). In some quarters, there is now a concerted discussion about what sort of state would fit better with the Timorese context, culture, various networks including resistance and Church networks (McGregor et al. 2012), and political history (Trindade 2008, p.160). Some are of the view that diplomatic, clandestine, and resistance frameworks of the pre-1999 period need to be focused on state formation which in turn needs to be wrested from the elite and based on a more

Decolonizing security and peace   189 diversified social and economic basis. The historic Timorese networks are slowly reoccupying the state. The question being asked is, what is the state for and how might it reflect both the liberation struggle, its networks, mitigate internal tensions, development and order best? This has to be rethought, as Trindade argues by ‘[f] irst the traditional system, then the Church, and then the government.’ It must be blessed by the elders, made sacred, and become part of Timorese culture (Trindade 2008, p.166). The ‘lulic’ system is being recovered via an encounter with liberal peacebuilding and neoliberal statebuilding, and it has been argued that it has its own system for security, law, checks and balances, representation, equality, and sustainable development. According to Trindade, probably the island’s leading expert and translator of this system, this makes sense to Timorese people in terms of their society, context, environment and their historical liberation struggle, and so offers local legitimacy for a new and developing state (Trindade 2012). This is the discursive framework that arises from the complex array of internal voices interested in producing a peace order as defined locally, and in conjunction with their understanding of the liberal-international order and the neoliberal state. This does not mean a rejection of external knowledge about peace and development and their systems, but instead a hybridization of both local processes and international blueprints. Indeed in local terms, democracy and human rights, as well as even gender equality, are not new western imports, but have long been accepted (Trindade 2012, p.167). According to this logic, the liberation struggle from the 1970s did not end with the formation of the new liberal or neoliberal state, but will continue until needs, rights, and identity (historical, religious, and modern) have reached a balance. The winning of international legitimacy was merely a waymark on the path to establishing local legitimacy, in which ontological security would be matched by peace and the state.

Conclusion From this perspective, peace formation indicates a significant decolonization of the international, mono-epistemological, logic about peace and security. Instead of emanating from the international (read northern power) it is embedded even in post-conflict ontologies, (see also Bilgin and İnce) which themselves are framed in everyday terms and reach out both for support and for epistemic refinement. Instead of the latter being found in northern models and cemented in the state, thus requiring the erasure of the ‘local’, its alterity, traditions, and autonomy, in actual fact the state remains a site of ontological insecurity. At a societal level an ontological peace in which difference, pluralism, and hybrid frameworks for selfother relations is suggested, and might even have long existed in some quarters. Subaltern agency often tries to promote this in various creative ways where the state and the international are either opposed or are obstacles to its objective of an ontologically diverse peace, partly because though they may prefer liberalism and pluralism, these tend to be read through specific ontological perspective. Table 9.1 illustrates the ambivalence of mainstream approaches to peace and security (victor’s and liberal peace), the binaries they produce and the methods

190  Oliver P. Richmond Table 9.1  Types of peace and states of security Ingroup/self

Outgroup/other

Instrument/power

Victor’s peace

Physical, ontological insecurity

Insecure/ marginalized

Direct or structural power/state

Liberal peace

Physical security, universalism

Insecure/ governmentalized

Governmentality/ internationals

Peace formation

Insecure/ secure?*

Insecure/secure?*

Subaltern agency/ local peace organizations

*Peace formation requires a collapsing of the distinctions between security and insecurity – which themselves are sites of competition unresolved by the modern state – until both in- groups and outgroups autonomously produce a hybrid outcome.

they use. Their positions on peace are ambivalent even though they claim universality. Peace formation on the other hand embraces difference and so avoids ambivalence about the subject’s security and insecurity because it is only through the recognition of alterity that peace’s subjects may build an inclusive, and therefore hybrid, peace.

Note 1 See for example La’oHamutuk, www.laohamutuk.org/

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Conclusion Bahar Rumelili

Revisiting the conceptual framework The conceptual framework of the volume was offered not as a definitive framework but as one open to refinement and challenge by the contributors. The concluding chapter of this volume is therefore an appropriate place to take stock of these refinements and challenges. This volume offered three core arguments regarding the role of ontological security in conflict resolution. First, conflicts especially over time become sources of ontological security for the various actors involved. The conceptual framework laid out in detail how conflicts become a source of ontological security at the individual, societal/state and interstate/inter-party levels. Conflicts enable individuals to address fundamental anxieties of death, meaninglessness, and condemnation by providing objects of fear, and a stable set of meanings and standards of morality that revolve around the construction of the other conflict party as the enemy. At the societal/state level, conflicts provide stable and legitimate focal points for securitization practices and constructions of systems of meaning and morality. Conflicts regularize and legitimize the construction of the other conflict party as a vital and immediate threat and the presentation of its identity in clear-cut oppositional terms. Finally, at the interstate/inter-party level, it was argued that conflicts place political actors at a state of ontological security vis-à-vis one another and provide them with a formed framework to make sense of international life. The second argument of the volume was that, conflict resolution, therefore, generates ontological insecurity, which unleashes political and social processes that reproduce and reactivate the conflicts. The conceptual framework offered a model, which aimed to show how conflicts move through states of varying levels of fear and anxiety as they undergo a process of resolution. Building on the conceptual link between anxiety and fear, i.e. fear helps contain anxiety, and thus removal of fear unleashes anxiety, the argument was advanced that conflicts-inresolution are characterized by lowered fears but heightened anxieties. Heightened anxieties generate a striving for objects of fear; therefore, conflicts-in-resolution always remain vulnerable to political attempts to reproduce and reactivate the conflicts by re-igniting the fears.

194  Bahar Rumelili The third argument of the volume was a corollary of the previous two. Stable peace necessitates not only the settlement of disputes, but the reinstatement of ontological security through the formulation of alternative narratives and routines. In the conceptual framework, how alternative narratives and routines may be developed and the forms that they can take were not specified, on the basis that these will inevitably be context-specific, and therefore have to be studied empirically. The conflict cases studied in this volume spanned a wide geographical and historical context, and included a broad range of international and domestic conflicts in various stages of negotiation, resolution, and reconciliation. It attempted to analyse the role of ontological security in protracted international conflicts such as Cyprus and Israel/Palestine and domestic ones such as Turkey’s Kurdish conflict, while discussing the effects of ontological insecurity following seemingly successful peace processes, such as Northern Ireland. The book also included chapters on the reinstatement of ontological security following the resolution of two Nordic conflicts – the Åland islands between Finland and Sweden and the Karelian conflict between Finland and Russia – while also looking at local ‘peace formation’ practices to reinstate ontological security following liberal peacebuilding interventions in contexts, such as Somalia and Sierra Leone. Although no single theoretical framework can possibly fully accommodate all relevant factors in such a wide range of cases, a significant number of cases suggest refinements to the conceptual framework in the following directions. First of all, the cases suggest that conflicts are rarely stable in ontological security terms. Despite the manifold ways in which conflicts produce ontological security, in the case of neither the Israeli–Palestinian, nor the Cyprus conflict, are we able to observe a singular stably formed framework of ontological security that shapes the narratives and routines of all groups within conflict societies. Instead, we encounter a multiplicity of self-narratives that change and evolve over time across different groups within societies. Thus, what needs to be acknowledged is that stable conflicts are ideal types, and that each conflict is unstable to a certain extent. Anxiety is always present, but may be contained at low levels and confined to certain sectors of society marginalized in the political process. This has two further implications for the theorization of the role of ontological security in conflict resolution. On the one hand, it invites us to give greater weight to anxiety as an enabling condition of conflict resolution. In other words, the framework needs to recognize that some level of anxiety needs to be present in stable conflicts, in order for change to be possible. What transforms stable conflicts into unstable conflicts or conflicts-in-resolution is the crossing of a certain threshold in anxiety. As will be noted later, the theorization and empirical specification of this threshold is a difficult task that nevertheless needs to be undertaken to study the role of ontological (in)security in conflict resolution. Second, the cases caution against studying the role of ontological (in)security in conflict resolution in isolation from other internal and external developments. While the relevant internal and external developments are case-specific and cannot possibly all be incorporated in a common framework, that conflicts are only

Conclusion   195 one among multiple sources of ontological security needs to be more explicitly recognized. For example, the EU integration process has significantly impacted the terms on which ontological security is pursued in both the cases of the Cyprus conflict and the Åland islands. Browning and Joenniemi put significant emphasis on how changing notions of sovereignty and national subjectivity have played a crucial role in diminishing the significance of Karelia in Finnish national narratives. Richmond, on the other hand, discusses how peace-building interventions aim to secure subject populations according to a Western liberal ontological framework, and consequently generate ontological insecurity. Therefore, an ontological security perspective to conflict resolution needs to be particularly cognizant of the fact that the conditions of ontological security are themselves unstable, contested, and in flux. Third, interesting observations stem from the Israeli–Palestinian and Northern Ireland cases, concerning the implications of ontological insecurity on conflict and peace processes. The conceptual framework of the volume has presupposed somewhat of a bi-directional movement on the axis of securitization and desecuritization; making the assumption that ontological insecurity would either reproduce and reactivate conflicts, or serve as a springboard to peace and the containment of anxiety through alternative narratives. Both the Israeli–Palestinian and Northern Ireland cases demonstrate that the implications of ontological insecurity are much more complex and variegated. For example, according to Lupovici, Israel ‘works to maintain the conflict by preserving Hamas as the Palestinian enemy other and distinguishing it from Fatah –with whom, on the other hand, Israel continues, to some extent, to practise conflict resolution.’ This is a strategy of splitting the Other, of securitising one faction while partly desecuritising the Other, which is not simply reproducing but simultaneously transforming the conflict. Similarly in the case of Northern Ireland, Mitchell emphasises how a peace process that is sensitive to the ontological security dynamics concerning the primary Self/Other dyad has generated insecurities on part of ‘other Selves’ and ‘other Others’; that is actors who cannot and will not be integrated into the peace process. This is an example of the reinstatement of ontological security in a peace process through the splitting of identities and the generation of new conflicts. Therefore, as Mitchell argues, an ontological security perspective on conflict resolution should not limit itself to the primary Self/Other relationship and be attentive to the ways in which identities and the conflict itself are always in transformation (see also Mitchell 2011).

Lessons for ontological security studies It is possible to draw a number of lessons from the contributions to this volume to guide the future development of ontological security studies. This volume constitutes one of the earlier attempts to apply an ontological security perspective empirically across a range of case studies. The case studies indicate a number of areas where ontological security theory is in need of further development. First, the case studies indicate a number of common challenges that stem from the operationalisation of ontological security/insecurity as a binary concept. In

196  Bahar Rumelili none of the conflict cases it is possible to encounter absolute states of ontological security or insecurity; rather one witnesses varying degrees of ontological insecurity across different actors. The conceptual framework to this volume sought to capture this gradation by distinguishing between states of low and high anxiety as opposed ontological insecurity and security. Assuming that anxiety is omnipresent and cannot be entirely contained, further work needs to be done on clarifying the critical thresholds at which anxiety (or ontological insecurity) begins to produce the effects that are analysed in this volume. As the case studies on Israel–Palestine, Cyprus, and the Kurdish conflict indicate, no conflict, no matter how protracted and entrenched, generates a state of absolute ontological security for all sectors of conflict societies, such that there is no motivation for change. Similarly, as the cases of Northern Ireland and the Åland islands clearly show, no peace process, no matter how comprehensive and effective, can reinstate ontological security for all groups in conflict societies. Therefore, the concept of ontological security/insecurity needs further empirical specification, especially with regard to the identification of critical thresholds. Second, all contributions to this volume stress that the pursuit of ontological security is inherently a political process, which empowers certain political actors over others, and legitimises certain types of political action rather than others. However, the outcomes vary. For example, I argue that ontological insecurity empowers spoilers of peace processes and legitimises securitising acts, while at the same time enabling change. Lupovici argues that the ontological insecurity that stems from the incongruity between multiple Israeli identities generates a deadlock in Israeli policy. Joenniemi, on the other hand, argues that Åland islanders pursue ontological security by promoting identity-based tensions with Finland. More theorisation is needed to specify how ontological security/insecurity (re)allocates authority among actors and produces different policy outcomes. In shaping policy outcomes, ontological security/insecurity functions as a structural condition that interacts with other structural and agentic factors. In this vein, Loizides’ chapter places due emphasis on how internal and external political developments affect the political actors’ capacities to produce ontological security through different identity narratives. At the same time, ontological security/insecurity is a condition that can be manipulated and mobilised by political actors in pursuit of their political objectives. Therefore, the two-way interaction between ontological security/insecurity and other political factors deserves further scrutiny. Third, how power dynamics interfere in the production of ontological security needs further elaboration. As Çelik’s chapter forcefully demonstrates, the power differences between conflict parties or across different groups in conflict societies can generate structural asymmetries in ontological security, where the pursuit of ontological security by one group produces ontological insecurity for others. However, this does not necessarily mean that ontological security is reducible to power, as a sense of mutual ontological security may also develop around power asymmetries, providing both the weak and the strong with stable role identities, narratives, and routines. For example, partners may choose to stay in

Conclusion   197 an abusive relationship because of the ontological security it provides (Mitzen 2006). Whether an asymmetric relationship is a source of ontological security or insecurity depends very much on the existing self-narratives of those who find themselves in a position of weakness or strength. On the other hand, internalising a position of weakness and inferiority can be a product of false consciousness or a discursively imposed subject position. Therefore, ontological security studies needs to be critically attuned to how the production of ontological security works across power asymmetries and to how the pursuit of ontological security meshes with relations of domination and resistance. This brings me to my final point concerning the ethics of ontological security. Given that the ethics of security has elicited much discussion in critical security studies (e.g. Browning and MacDonald 2013; Burgess 2011; Floyd 2011; Taureck 2006), similar soul-searching and clarification of ethical stances in ontological security studies are also highly warranted. Any stable social relationship or situation may be a source of ontological security; violent conflicts, domination, discrimination, and exclusion as well as peaceful coexistence, equality, and inclusion. Therefore, the pursuit of ontological security is not in and of itself a good thing, as it may be driving the reproduction of normatively undesirable relationships and situations. Under such circumstances, actions that unsettle established narratives and routines, in other words, the production of ontological insecurity would undoubtedly be holding the moral high ground. However, while everyone may agree that in cases of abusive relationships, ontological insecurity would be preferable to security, not all issues lend themselves to clear-cut ethical choices. Plus, although change may be normatively desirable overall, there will always be groups who are rendered ontologically insecure as a result of change. In particular, Mitchell’s and Richmond’s contributions to this volume put normative dimensions of peace at the centre of their analyses, and raise questions with respect to whose ontological security is privileged in various types of peace processes.

The value-added of ontological security Within the burgeoning field of ontological security studies, different approaches and perspectives are already discernible. This volume constitutes an application of the core concept of ontological security to a substantive field of inquiry with its own already well-developed body of literature, i.e. conflict resolution. Not only ontological security has close affinities with the factors emphasised in socio-psychological approaches to conflict resolution, but the various conflict cases studied in this volume have previously been analysed through a variety of perspectives. We do not – and cannot – claim that ontological security provides an entirely new perspective on conflict resolution that competes with the existing perspectives. However, we contend that ontological security provides a unique and much-needed conceptual link between several different factors previously identified as critical to conflict resolution. The contributions to this volume bring out several unique features of ontological security that constitute its value-added:

198  Bahar Rumelili 1

2

3

Ontological security is a multi-layered security concept: first of all, unlike other security concepts, ontological security is inherently multi-layered and highlights the integral linkages and the fluid nexus between the individual and the collective (group, societal, state) attitudes, beliefs, and practices, without privileging one over the other. Thus, while employing a single concept, the contributions to this volume can exhibit a variation in their levels of analysis. While some chapters focus on how the pursuit of ontological security at the national level impinge on peace processes (e.g the chapters by Lupovici and Browning & Joenniemi), others focus on the pursuit of ontological security at the group/ communal level (e.g. the chapters by Çelik, Loizides, Mitchell, and Joenniemi), and at the individual level (e.g. Bilgin and İnce). Ultimately, the pursuit of ontological security takes place at multiple levels, which impinge on one another. For example, as highlighted most clearly in the chapter by Bilgin and İnce, the pursuit of ontological security by the Turkish state vis-àvis international society has generated ontological insecurities at group and individual levels in Turkey. Ontological security ties varied literatures on nationalism, identity, and reconciliation with security studies: The role of nationalism and identity in the generation and resolution of conflicts has been studied in detail, and the necessity to change dominant constructions of the nation, and stereotypical beliefs about the enemy have been the main focus of reconciliation based approaches to conflict resolution. Ontological security ties these varied literatures together and helps explain how and why nationalism and identity bear so heavily on conflicts and reconciliation remains difficult but necessary. Thus, the volume includes contributions that highlight the impact of competing/overlapping constructions of national/ethnic identity (e.g. the Lupovici and Loizides chapters), the impact of conflict resolution on group identities (e.g. the Mitchell chapter) and how changing conceptions of nationalism are critical to processes of reconciliation (e.g. the Browning and Joenniemi and Joenniemi chapters). Ontological security highlights the importance of intra-party dynamics and processes in conflict resolution: the literature on conflict resolution often privileges inter-party processes and dynamics of negotiation at the expense of intra-party ones. Various social-psychological approaches and methods of conflict resolution, therefore, put emphasis on establishing contact between conflict parties, confronting prejudices, and building trust. However, ontological security highlights that individual and societal beliefs about the enemy are very much rooted in the pursuit of stability of being, and therefore stresses that these beliefs need to be negotiated internally as much as they are negotiated with significant Others. Thus, the contributors to this volume place greater emphasis on the internal construction and negotiation of identities and beliefs. According to Lupovici, for example, the Israeli stance on the Israel-Palestinian conflict cannot be properly understood without acknowledging the multiplicity of Israeli identities, and the challenges of ontological dissonance. Similarly, Loizides discusses in detail how both the

Conclusion   199

4

Greek-Cypriot and Turkish-Cypriot identities have evolved in response to internal as well as external developments. The Mitchell chapter also puts the key emphasis on the ongoing tensions and conflicts within the Republican and Loyalist groups in Northern Ireland rather than between them. Ontological security places due emphasis on emotional and practical dimensions of conflict: the literature on conflict resolution places greater emphasis on how beliefs about the enemy and conflict hamper resolution and reconciliation, but less on how certain emotions and attachment to certain practices may facilitate or hinder belief change. In contrast, ontological security invites due emphasis on how making contact with or acquiring new information about the enemy may generate anxiety and resistance to belief change. Therefore, approaches and methods of conflict resolution should take such emotional and practical factors seriously, and not simply assume that the social-psychological obstacles to conflict resolution are purely cognitive. In this volume, anxiety has been singled out as a key emotion, which both enables and complicates processes of conflict resolution. Less attention has been devoted to conflict practices, whose maintenance is critical to ontological security. Conflict resolution entails changes in beliefs as well as practices, and future work on ontological security and conflict resolution can focus on how attachment to routines makes it difficult to enact changes in conflict practices.

A personal reflection In recent years, as evident in the number of publications as well as the number of panels and round tables on ontological security in ISA conferences, ontological security studies is making its presence felt as a new area of intellectual focus in International Relations. Despite this flurry of academic activity, critics are often tempted to ask whether this is yet another intellectual fad which will be sustained by its own tribe of academics. Is ontological security able to bring to light and account for certain phenomena, which were otherwise masked by other related concepts, such as identity and (other types of) security? I believe that these are questions that require honest answers. As a scholar, who started as a sceptic and later became an enthusiast of ontological security, I would like to take the opportunity in this concluding section of the volume to provide my own – subjective but nevertheless honest – answer. I stumbled onto ontological security roughly seven to eight years into my career, having already made a modest set of contributions to the field of International Relations around the common theme of identity – on processes of identity constitution at the state and supra-state levels, self/other relations, and implications for international conflict and cooperation (Rumelili 2004, 2007). My initial reaction was that ontological security is nothing but old wine in new bottles, merely a theoretically fancier way of referring to the ‘security of identity’. Later, I found myself casually employing the concept of ontological security in a purely pragmatic manner. One of the weak links in my previous writings was the

200  Bahar Rumelili link between identity and security. While I was able to demonstrate the nature and dimensions of self/other representations in International Relations and establish their theoretical relevance, I experienced greater difficulty in showing how they are linked to sense of insecurity, perception of threat, and legitimization of violence. The concept of insecurity was underspecified for my purposes in that it lumped together, for example, both the unease that Turkey experienced when its claims to a European identity went unrecognized, and Turkey’s perception of physical threat from Greece. Both insecurities were rooted in identity constructions but fundamentally different in nature. Ontological security appeared to me as a useful concept to capture this distinction. I began this edited volume project as I was transitioning from a pragmatist to an enthusiast. The more I read key texts on ontological security, the more I realized that it encompasses much more than ‘security of identity’. Especially the way the concept brings together biographical narratives and routines was refreshing in that it captured both the discursive and practical dimensions of being. Although everyone acknowledges that discourse embodies practice, most analyses of constructions of identity, mine included, had privileged texts and textual analysis over practice. Employing ontological security forced me to be more attuned to practical dimensions of identity. The second reason I became more of an enthusiast is because ontological security enabled me to actually pin down the notion of security I had in mind all along. Despite the close affinities that I observed, I was disappointed to discover that my work fell somewhat out of synch with the wide literature on critical security studies, which seemed to have less of an interest in identity except when it is securitized. The wide range of referents, types, and levels of security discussed in this literature did not fully capture the concern that actors have with the reproduction of their identities, and thus that identity remains a security issue regardless of whether or not identity, or any other referent object, is securitized. Ontological security, and the distinction between ontological and physical security, provided me with the conceptual basis I needed to argue this (Rumelili forthcoming). But ultimately what converted me into an advocate of ontological security has been the distinction between fear and anxiety that ontological security forces us to make. That ontological security is fundamentally different from other concepts of security because it denotes freedom from anxiety rather than fear is the argument that unequivocally proves, at least in my view, that ontological security is not simply the old wine in a new bottle. I have made the first cut at developing this distinction in my contributions to this volume, but I can see that this distinction has many more path-breaking implications for International Relations theory than I have been able to discover and note. However, one ground for scepticism remains with me, and it is the notion of agency and subjectivity that undergirds the notion of ontological security. Ontological security brings to the foreground, but in doing so remains too closely wedded to, the psychological dynamics that underlie the reproduction of identity, as opposed to the discursive ones. Ontological security studies should take care to

Conclusion   201 avoid the pitfall of putting the individual or collective actors’ pursuit of ontological security at the centre without paying due attention to the discursive structures that constitute the narratives and practices that the actors are seeking to stabilize. Often we employ quite rigid criteria of admissibility, and dismiss concepts that cannot provide a superior explanation to the ones that already exist in our field. My experience with ontological security has convinced me otherwise. We may be missing out on great insights by applying such high entry-barriers. Rather than through debates between competing theoretical paradigms, scholarship may be better advanced through sustained engagement among scholars advocating different perspectives around a core idea or notion, such as ontological security. This volume came into being through such an engagement. Very few of the contributors to this volume had engaged with the notion of ontological security in a systematic manner before, yet the concept triggered new ideas, avenues of research and perspectives that would be lost to us, if we had not given it this chance.

Bibliography Browning, C., & McDonald, M. 2013, ‘The Future of Critical Security Studies: Ethics and the Politics of Security’, European Journal of International Relations, vol.19, no.2, pp.235–255. Burgess, J. P. 2011, The Ethical Subject of Security: Geopolitical Reason and the Threat Against Europe, Abingdon: Taylor & Francis. Floyd, R. 2011, ‘Can Securitisation Theory be Used in Normative Analysis? Towards a Just Securitisation Theory’, Security Dialogue, vol.42, no.4/5, pp.427–439. Mitchell, A. 2011, Lost in Transformation: Violent Peace and Peaceful Conflict in Northern Ireland, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Mitzen, J. 2006, ‘Ontological Security in World Politics: State Identity and the Security Dilemma’, European Journal of International Relations, vol.12, no.3, pp.341–370. Rumelili, B. 2004, ‘Constructing Identity and Relating to Difference: Understanding the EU’s Mode of Differentiation’, Review of International Studies, vol.30, no.1, pp.27–47. Rumelili, B. 2007, Constructing Regional Community and Order in Europe and Southeast Asia, Basingstoke: Palgrave. Rumelili, B. forthcoming, ‘Identity and Desecuritisation: Possibilities and Limits’, Journal of International Relations and Development. Taureck, R. 2006, ‘Securitisation Theory and Securitisation Studies’, Journal of International Relations & Development, vol.9, no.1, pp.53–61.

Index

Adams, G. 107 Afghanistan 8, 21, 174, 180, 184–5 Ahtisaari, M. 146, 164 AKP 56, 58, 62–3, 87 Aland islands: EU membership of Finland 147–50; League of Nations decision 137–40, 142–5, 150; relationship to Finland 4, 7, 26, 137–50, 194; relationship to Sweden 137, 141, 143, 145, 147, 158; special status, autonomy 144–6 ambiguity 2, 12, 16, 34, 37, 58, 102–03, 143, 150–1 Anastasiades, N. 86–8 Ankara 56, 71, 75, 81, 87, 122, 127–9 Annan plan 23, 71, 81, 84–6 anxiety: and change 14; of condemnation 12–15, 23, 35, 41–2; of death 12, 14; distinction from fear 2, 12–13, 200; and freedom 12–13; individual-level 10–14; of meaninglessness 12–15, 23, 35, 159; relation to ontological security 2, 3, 10–12, 33, 35–6, 39, 43–4, 196, 200; and securitization/ desecuritization 14–18, 21–6; societal 14, 16–17, 19, 21, 26; and state 17, 19, 21 Arafat, Y. 37 Armenian issue 64 Atatürk, M. K. 126 avoidance 2, 17, 34, 37, 45 Barroso, J. M. 85 Baumann, Z. 110 Belfast 6, 99, 108, 110, 113 Bolshevik 160–1, 167

Bosnia Herzegovina 180, 186 Britain 74 certainty 2–4, 8, 17, 19, 35, 52, 60, 72 CHP 58 Christofias, D. 86–7 Church 73, 75, 77–8, 129, 185, 188–9 civil society 56, 58, 62, 88, 139, 174–5, 179, 183, 185–6 citizenship 83, 140, 176; civic education 126–7; deprivation (excluded) 118, 121, 130; economic (fiscal) provisions 124– 5; rights 55, 118–19, 130; security 117–21, 130; Turkey 7, 18, 25, 117, 119, 120, 124, 130, 157 Clerides, G. 77, 79, 84, 87 Clinton, H. 99 Cold War 73, 75, 155, 161–5, 168; end of 7, 23, 37–8, 142–3, 155, 163–8, 174–5 Colombia 8, 21, 174, 180, 183 colonialism 73, 187 conflict: and anxiety 5, 12–13, 16–23, 25–6, 35–6, 155, 194; conflictsin-resolution 22, 24–6, 193–4; and enemy images (stereotypes) 19–20, 156, 162, 167; and habits 2–5, 13, 17–19, 21–2, 72–3, 103; intractable conflicts 19; and ontological security 2–4, 10, 14, 19–22, 35–6, 71, 155, 157, 182, 193–5, 197–9; stable conflicts 22– 5, 155, 194; and securitization 7, 16, 18, 155–6, 168, 195; unstable conflicts 22–6, 35–6, 194 conflict regulation 117, 119, 120

Index   203 conflict resolution: apology 64–5; critical peace studies 4; and emotions 3, 12–14, 62; institutional arrangements 73, 75; methods of 198–9; and migration 25, 117; and polarization 56, 59, 63; rationalist approaches 4, 15; and reconciliation 4, 7, 20, 42, 65, 89, 156, 185, 194, 198- 99; ripeness 36; role of civil society 56, 58, 88, 174, 183, 185–6; social-psychological approaches 3–4, 20, 198–9; Track 1 and 2 processes 61, 64 consociationalism 76, 88–9 Crimean War 139 Cyprus: Annan Plan 23, 71–2, 81, 84–7; British colonialism 73, 75, 78; consociationalism 76, 88–9; Cypriotism (island patriotism) 72, 77–8, 80–2, 84–7, 89; ethnic community loyalty 72, 81- 82; European Union 81, 83–6; habits 72– 3; identity narratives 6, 71–4, 77, 79, 81–5, 88–9; Motherland nationalism 71–7, 80–1, 84, 89; recognition 82–3; securitization, desecuritization 74, 84; settlers 76, 81, 83–7; 1974 Turkish invasion 72, 76–7 decolonization (liberation) 71–3, 172, 174–5, 178, 189 democracy 38, 43, 79, 164, 175–6, 184, 189 Denktaş, R. 74, 76, 80–3 Denktaş, S. 82–3 desecuritization: and anxiety 16, 21–2, 24–5, 155–6; different forms 168; and identity 16, 24, 156, 162; meaning constitution 22, 25 development 38, 104, 119, 120, 140, 156, 172–4, 176, 183, 188–9 diaspora 40–1 Diyarbakir 56- 58, 60–1 emotions: and conflict resolution 3, 12–14, 199 Enosis 71–8, 85 EOKA 74–7 Erdogan, T. 58 Eroğlu, D. 76, 80, 82, 87 ethnic conflicts: and ontological security 16, 52 European Court of Human Rights (ECtHR) 81

European Union: effect on Aland islands 138, 147; effect on Kurdish conflict 55 every day 8, 11, 13, 21, 26, 56, 67, 175, 177–9, 183, 185, 188–9 Fatah 5, 24, 34, 44–5, 104, 195 fear: and anxiety 2, 12–13, 18, 21–6, 35, 53, 73, 150, 155–6, 162, 166, 193, 200; and securitization 14, 21–6; and state 14 Fein, S. 100, 106–9, 114 Finland: relation to Aland islands 4, 7, 26, 137–50, 194; relation to Karelia 25, 86, 154–5, 159, 162–4, 167, 194; relation with Russia 154, 158, 160–5, 168, 194; self-esteem 7, 165–8; see also Nationalism, Finnish Foucault, M. 174 Freud, S. 138 Ghana 174, 180, 182 Giddens, A.: approach to anxiety 11–12; approach to identity 11; definition of ontological security 10–11; on modernity 11 globalization 15, 86, 167–8 Global North 172–3, 176–7 Global South 172–3, 175 Gökalp, Z. 126 Grand National Assembly of Turkey 55, 119 Greece 71, 73–5, 77–80, 82, 89, 117, 119–22, 200 Grivas, G. 74 habit 2–5, 10–11, 13, 17, 19, 21–2, 25–6, 35, 58, 72–3, 103 Habur 59, 61 Hamas 5, 24, 34, 44–5, 104 Hegel, F. 157–9, 165–8 Heidegger, M. 11–12, 101–2 Herder, J.G. 157–9, 165–8 Iacovou, G. 77, 80, 82, 84 identity: and deconstruction 36, 42; identity change (adaptation, redefinition) 19, 21, 35, 46, 60, 64, 72, 77, 87, 137, 186; identity construction 4, 15, 16, 20, 62, 157; identity crisis 38; and importance of territory 18, 38, 121, 123–4, 154, 157, 160, 167; multiplicity of 5, 6, 15, 17, 23, 36–7, 71, 88, 104, 196;

204 Index narratives of (self-narrative) 2, 3, 17, 21, 23, 36, 42, 61, 65, 106, 111, 137, 138, 154, 155, 158, 165, 194, 196, 200; national identity 78, 119, 137, 154, 157, 158, 162, 166, 168; and radicalization 22–3, 160, 167; self and other (also in-group/out-group) 6, 14, 15, 100, 103, 104, 109, 110, 113, 177, 178, 187, 195, 199 internally displaced people 60, 123 international society 18, 119 Israel: and democracy (democratic identity) 33, 38, 42; identity 5, 15, 33, 38, 41, 43, 196, 198; Jewish Israelis (Jewish-Israeli identity) 39–42; relation to Fatah and Hamas 5, 24, 34, 44–5, 104, 195; relations with Palestinians 2, 4, 19, 23–4, 37, 39, 43, 45, 195 Israel/Palestinian conflict: First Intifada 23, 38; Jerusalem 33, 40; recognition 33, 37, 40, 44–5; right of return 33, 41–2, 44–5; Second Intifada 33–4, 43 Izmir 56, 60 Jerusalem 33, 39–40, 154 Kalevala 159–60 Karamanlis, K. 85 Karelia 5, 7, 18, 25, 74, 77, 86, 154–5, 157–68, 194–5 Kenya 21, 180, 182–3 Kierkegaard, S. 5, 10–13 Koivisto, M. 164 Kosovo 154, 186–7 Kurds 54–67, 83, 123; see also Turkey’s Kurdish conflict Laing, R.D. 10–11 League of Nations 7, 26, 137–45, 150–1 Lebanon War 38 liberalism (neoliberalism) 175, 178, 189 Makarios 76, 79, 80, 82, 84–5 market 125, 166–7, 175–6, 179, 188 Megali Idea 74 memory 158 migration: population exchange (Turkey) 119, 121–2; settlement policies 54, 83, 117, 123 Mitsotakis, C. 77

modernity 11, 38, 165, 173, 187 morality 6–7, 13–16, 23–6, 35, 168, 193 nationalism 15, 62, 157, 198; and citizenship 76; civic nationalism 79; and culture 89, 122–3, 127, 129, 157–9; Cypriot 72, 77–81; Finnish 18, 25, 157, 159, 165; Greek 72, 73, 74, 87; Greek-Cypriot 74, 82, 85; ethnic nationalism 71, 76; and history 74, 126–7, 158–9; Kurdish 54, 57; and language 119, 122–4, 126, 127, 129, 140, 144, 149, 158–9; Turkish 16, 62, 76, 82, 84, 119, 122–4, 126, 127, 129; Turkish-Cypriot 73, 82; and territory 159 NATO 75–6 Nepal 180 New Cyprus Association 79–80 NGOs 128, 182–3 Netanyahu 40, 44–5 non-aligned movement 75 Northern Ireland: Good Friday/Belfast Agreement 99, 112; Loyalists and relations with dissident groups 109, 111; marginalized actors (splinter groups) 99, 106, 108–9; relation between Republicans and Loyalists 99, 106, 113; Republicans and relations with dissident groups 100, 106–14; weapons decommissioning 100, 105, 110–11, 114 Öcalan, A. 55, 61–3 ontic security 103, 105–6, 110–11 ontological dissonance 33–4, 37, 39, 42, 44–5, 104, 198 ontological insecurity: political opportunities (spoilers etc.) 2–3, 72, 196; relation to anxiety 2, 11–12, 33, 35, 40–3, 157, 196 ontological peace 175, 177, 189 ontological security: ethnic conflicts 16, 52; and in-betweenness (liminal) 5, 7, 142, 146–8, 150; and minorities 6, 16, 18, 23, 52, 57, 67, 130; ontic and ontological security 11, 101–3; and peace-building 26, 100, 172, 174, 176–7; relation to basic trust 6, 10, 52; relation to difference 22, 117- 9, 121, 125, 128–30, 138, 144, 146, 150, 177, 179, 189–90; relation to physical security 1, 17, 26, 35, 55, 57, 61, 67, 105–6, 110, 112, 154, 173, 177, 190;

Index   205 relation to reflexive awareness 11; relation to routine 10–11, 17, 128; see also securitization and ontological security ontological security dilemma 34–5, 39 ontological security studies 4, 8, 195, 197, 199, 200 ontological threat 41–2, 44, 46, 100–3, 105–6, 109, 112–13 Oslo Accords 33–4, 37, 39, 43 Ottoman Empire 6, 53, 119–23, 130 Paasikivi, J. 162–3 Palestinian Authority 37 Papadopoulos, T. 82, 84–7 Papandreou, A. 80 peace: and justice 42, 172, 180, 186, 188; liberal peace 172–7, 180–2, 185–9, 194; local/global 5, 8, 21, 26, 173–4, 176–90; negative peace 174–5, 177, 183; neoliberal understanding 172–81, 186, 189; ontology of peace 26, 175; transformative peace processes 99, 100, 105–6, 113; Victor’s peace 174, 177, 189–90 peace-building 3, 5, 7–8, 26, 100, 113, 195 peace-formation 5, 8, 21, 26, 172–4, 178–82, 184–5, 187, 189–90, 194 Peres, S. 40 PKK 53–64 polarization 56, 59, 63 population exchange 5, 119, 121–2 post-colonial 18, 118–19, 177 post-conflict 7, 20, 176, 180, 189 power 39, 60, 65–7, 142, 146, 172–82, 185, 189, 196–7 power-sharing 75–6 practice 2–6, 8, 14, 17–18, 21–2, 24–6, 34, 39–41, 74, 88, 117–30, 162–4, 176, 178–81, 183, 186, 193–4, 198–201 Provisional IRA (PIRA) 100, 106 Rabin, Y. 37–8, 40, 43 radicalization 22–3, 167 reconciliation 4, 7, 20, 33, 42, 65, 78, 89, 105, 137–8, 154, 156, 166, 179, 184–5, 194, 198–9 refugees 41–2, 76, 119, 122, 154, 161, 165 religion 15, 39, 62, 119, 120 ripeness 27, 36

Roboski 60 routines 2–5, 7–8, 10–11, 13, 17, 21–5, 33, 35, 71–3, 103, 128, 138, 150–1, 168, 174, 177, 194, 196–7, 199–200 Russia (also Soviet Union) 5, 7, 25, 74, 77, 119, 139, 154–5, 158–68, 194; relations with Finland 154, 158, 160–5, 168, 194 safety 72, 110, 139, 144, 150, 154 securitization: and conflict 7, 15–16, 18, 155–6, 168, 172, 195; and identity 15–16, 20, 22–3, 42, 46, 66; and meaning constitution 14, 16–17, 22, 195; and ontological security 14, 17, 173, 195 Sharon, A. 43 Sierra Leone 5, 8, 180, 184, 194 Simitis, C. 77 Solomon Islands 180 Somalia 5, 8, 21, 179–81, 184–5, 194 South Africa 174, 182 South Sudan 182 sovereignty 40, 64, 137–8, 140, 143–51, 157–8, 160, 163–6, 168, 176, 195 state (or statehood) 14–19, 35–6, 85, 101, 117–9, 130, 151, 158–61, 165, 167, 172–90, 193, 198–9 state-building 120 subaltern 8, 177–9, 182, 189–90 Sweden: relations with Aland islands 4, 7, 137, 141, 143; relations with Finland 4, 7, 26, 137, 141, 143, 147, 158 Syria 55 taksim 71, 74, 76 Talat, M. A. 82–3, 85–7 territorial 18, 40, 57–8, 74, 120–4, 143, 157, 159–68, 176 Tillich, P. 5, 10 Timor-Leste 180, 183, 187–8 Togo 183 trauma 60, 65, 161 troubles 99, 106 Turkey: citizenship 7, 18, 25, 117–21, 124, 128, 130, 157; civic education 126–7; EU reforms 85, 87; identity 16, 121, 124, 128; minority rights 16, 25, 55, 125; nationalism 16, 61–2, 73, 76, 82, 84, 119, 122–4, 126, 127, 129; Sevres syndrome 64

206 Index Turkey’s Kurdish conflict: apology 64–5; asymmetrical nature 23–4, 57; cultural rights 56–7; dialogue 52, 56, 58, 62, 67; everyday violence 56, 67; human rights violations 54; inter-group relations 53; internal displacement 54, 60, 64; Kurdish Opening (2009–2011) 53, 56, 58–62; polarization 56, 59, 63; public opinion 63–4; representation as terrorists 54, 56, 58, 60, 63, 65; securitization, desecuritization 66; see also Nationalism, Kurdish Treaty of Lausanne 25, 118, 122, Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus 76, 185 Turkish Resistance Organization 76

Ulster Defense Association 100, 109 UNDP 178, 183 United Nations 19, 85 universalism 175, 177–8, 182, 185, 190 Varlık Vergisi (Wealth Tax) 124–5, 128–9 Vasiliou, G. 77 Wise People Committee 62 women 120, 179, 183 World War I 6, 18, 119 World War II 7, 25, 73–4, 124, 161, 164, 174 Zionism 40–1 Zurich–London Agreements 75