The Political Economy of Civil War and UN Peace Operations 1032164441, 9781032164441

Table of contents :
Cover
Endorsement
Half Title
Series Information
Title Page
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
Tables
Notes on Contributors
Acknowledgements
Abbreviations
1 The Political Economy of Civil War and UN Peace Operations
Introduction
Political Economy Analysis of War and Conflict: Strengths and Limitations
UN Peace Operations and the Political Economy of Intrastate Conflict
Understanding the Sources of Violence and Armed Group Behaviour
Engaging With Non-State Forms Governance
The Transnational and Networked Characteristics of Political Economies of Conflict
Questioning the Assumptions Underlying the UN’s Approach to Peace Operations
Engaging With the Political Economy of Conflicts: Challenges Confronting the UN
Politics Among Member States
Bureaucratic Fragmentation and the Siloing of Politics
Political, Analytical and Moral Complexities
Notes
Bibliography
Part I Conceptual and Thematic Issues
2 The Importance of Political Economy
Recognising the Impact of Economic Forces
The Interaction of Political and Economic Motivations in Conflict
Mapping the Impact of Peace Operations On the Political Economy of Conflict
Rethinking UN Peace Operations
Taking Account of Transnational Forces and Context in Shaping Strategy
Conclusion
Notes
Bibliography
3 Operationalising the “Primacy of Politics” in UN Peace Operations: Implications of Political Economy Analysis
UN Peace Operations and the Centrality of Mediation
Weakly Structured, Incohesive and Fragmented Belligerents
Weak, Failing and Spurious Agreements
Peace Operations Caught in Spirals of Violence
Beyond Agreements – Expanding the Scope of the Primacy of Politics
Engaging at Multiple Levels of Conflict
Investing in the Stability and Inclusivity of State Institutions
The Politics of Protecting Civilians
Re-imagining Civil Society Dialogue
The Peace Operations, Peace Processes and the Limits of Mediation
Notes
Bibliography
4 Engaging With Political Elites and Non-State Armed Groups: A Mission Perspective
The Conjuror’s Art
Spoilers and Survivors: Conflict Actors and the Political Economy
The Challenges of the Political Economy: Framing UN Policy Responses
Spectators and Players: Aligning UN Peace Operations and the Political Economy
Interventions in the Political Economy: Possibilities and Predicaments
The National Perspective
Acting Locally
The Regional Dimension
The Limits of Intervention
Rising to the Challenges: Strategies, Structures and Staffing
Conclusion: Liberating the Political Economy
Notes
Bibliography
5 UN Sanctions, Panels of Experts and the Political Economy of Intrastate Conflict
UN Sanctions: Mechanisms to Influence the Political Economy of Conflict
Panels of Experts: Mandates, Composition, Working Methods and Reporting
Cooperation Between Panels of Experts and Peace Operations
Assessment of UN Sanctions and Panels of Experts
Obstacles to Influencing the Political Economy of Intrastate Conflict
War Economies, Corruption and Member States
Security Council Politics and Practice
UN Institutional Factors
Conclusion
Notes
Bibliography
6 What Role for Business Actors in UN Peace Operations?
The Definitional Challenge: What Or Who Are “Business Actors”?
A Framework for Understanding the Roles of Business Actors in UN Peace Operations
Enabling UN Peace Operations to Include Business in Peace
Conclusion
Notes
Bibliography
7 Commodities, Commanders and Corruption: Political Economy in the Evolving Tradecraft of Intelligence and Analysis in UN Peace Operations
Introduction: Why Peace Operations Need Political Economy Analysis
Political Economy in the Evolving Intelligence Tradecraft of UN Peace Operations
Joint Mission Analysis Centres
Sanctions Panels and Groups of Experts
Information Management and Analysis Technologies
Member State-Linked Intelligence Capabilities
Local Engagement for Protection, Human Rights and Conflict Resolution
Global and Regional Trend Analysis
Political Economy Analysis in the Decision-Making Cycles of Peace Operations
Conclusion: The Future of Political Economy Analysis in Peacekeeping
Notes
Bibliography
8 Confronting Illicit Economies and Criminal Threats IN UN Missions: Operating in the “Grey Zone”
Introduction
Tackling Organised Crime: A Growing, Yet Fragmented Response By Peacekeeping
Same Objective, Different Reach: UN Sanctions’ Focus On “The Illicit” in Conflict Zones
UN Peacekeeping and Sanctions in Criminalised Conflict Economies: Insights From CAR, DRC and Mali
The “Grey Zone”: Conceptual Challenges
Engaging With the Grey Zone: Political Challenges
Conclusion
Notes
Bibliography
Part II Selected Case Studies
9 The UN and the Logic of Congo’s Political Economy: Politics Is Wealth, Wealth Is Power
Introduction
The End of Mobutu’s Kleptocratic State Economy and the Rise of the War Economy (1990–1997)
MONUC, Privatisation and the Transitional Economy (1997–2006)
MONUSCO and the Transnational Extractive Economy (2006–2011)
The Consolidation of Kabila’s Economic Power and UN Inaction (2011–2018)
Conclusions and Lessons for Peace Operations
Notes
Bibliography
10 The Unbuilding of a State: UNMISS’s Role in the Lead Up to South Sudan’s Civil War
Introduction
South Sudan’s Governance System: A Brief History
The War Years (1983–2005)
The Post-War Years (2005–2011)
The Making of UNMISS
The Unmaking of South Sudan
Implications for State-Building and UN Peace Operations
Timing of Interventions
Reimagining “The Local”
Resilience Revisited
Notes
Bibliography
11 UNAMA Amidst Counter-Terror and Counterinsurgency: No Peace Left to Keep
Introduction
UNAMA’s Inception and Early Years
UNAMA Amid the Surge
Good Governance Re-Examined
Notes
Bibliography
12 UNAMSIL and the Political Economy of War in Sierra Leone: What Is the Price of Peace?
Introduction
The Sierra Leone Civil War
UNAMSIL: A Faltering Start
Coming Back From the Brink
UNAMSIL Reformed: From Embarrassment to “Model” Mission
Military Interventions and RUF Reversals
The Regional Approach: Diamonds and Diplomacy
Conclusion
Notes
Bibliography
13 MINUSMA and the Political Economy of Mali’s Crises
The Major Political Economy Dimensions of Mali’s Crises
State Construction, Elite Bargains, Corruption and Poor Governance
Illicit Trafficking and the Economic Governance of Non-State Armed Groups
Agropastoral Conflicts Grow Deadlier in Central Mali
How the UN Has Attempted to Analyse And, in Some Cases, Respond to These Challenges
Where Is MINUSMA’s Political Economy Unit?
The Inherent Limits of MINUSMA’s Capacity-Building Approaches
MINUSMA’s Good Offices With Not So Good Guys
MINUSMA’s Experiment With Local Mediation in Central Mali
The Limitations of the MINUSMA’s Community-Based Projects
Targeting Traffickers: The UN Sanctions Regime for Mali
The Joint Force G5 Sahel and Transnational Crime
How the Mission Became Part of the Political Economy
MINUSMA’s Political Economy Blind Spot and Limited Due Diligence
Planning for Mission Transition: Political Economy Is Still an Afterthought
Conclusion: What Can UN Peace Operations Like MINUSMA Really Do About Political Economy?
Notes
Bibliography
14 The Political Economy of Peace Operations in Somalia
Introduction
Background
Recent History
The Somali Political and Socio-Economic Context
Political Economy of the UNOSOM Operation (1992–1995)
The Civil War Political Economy
UNITAF and UNOSOM II
Post-UNOSOM Political Economy
Political Economy of the AMISOM Mission (2007–2022)
AMISOM’s Internal Political Economy
The Political Economy of AMISOM’s Main Base
The Political Economy of Training and Equipping AMISOM
The Political Economy of Financing the Somali Security Sector
The Political Economy of UN Procurement Contracts and Political Analysis
The Wider Somali Political Economy in the AMISOM Era
Conclusion
Notes
Bibliography
Part III Conclusions
15 Adopting a Political Economy Lens: Policy Implications for UN Peace Operations
Ensure That Political Strategies Are Grounded in the Political Economy of Armed Conflict
Complement National Political Solutions With Local Mediation
Proactively Address the Motives of Violence to Protect Civilians
Acknowledge the Limits of Institutional Reform – But Seize Opportunities Where They Exist
Develop Analytic Capacity to Understand War Economies
Strengthen Risk Management to Mitigate the UN’s Role in War Economies
Ensure Sanctions Regimes and Peace Operations Are Mutually Reinforcing
Conclusion
Notes
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

‘An outstanding set of contributors shows how far the UN has to go for its peace operations to take realistic account of the political economy of conflict countries –​ and how crucial that is if they are to have greater success.’ Ian Martin, Special Representative of the Secretary-​General and Head of the UN Support Mission in Libya (UNSMIL), 2011–​2012 ‘This book performs an invaluable service. It deliberately shifts our attention from the theory of peacekeeping to what happens on the ground. In both the conceptual chapters and the detailed case-​studies of a range of contrasting UN operations, it demonstrates how, for better or worse, UN forces necessarily and inevitably become active players in the political and economic environments in which they work at both the local and wider regional levels. It should be required reading for all those studying, or in any way involved in the UN system and its future.’ James Mayall, Emeritus Professor of International Relations, Cambridge University ‘This volume provides a penetrating account of the challenges that contemporary conflict poses for UN peace operations. In a tightly integrated collection of chapters that brings together academics and senior practitioners with extensive UN experience, the authors illuminate the often glaring gap between the realities of local power dynamics and the assumptions and strategies that guide UN peacekeeping. The challenge of resolving civil wars is shown to be complicated by the role of a diverse range of local, national and transnational political actors who often have vested interests in resisting the peace process and maintaining the weakness of the state. Combining thematic insights into the complex nature of civil conflict with in-​depth case study research by leading experts, the book is essential reading for academics and practitioners alike.’ Oisin Tansey, Professor of International Relations, King’s College London ‘This book offers a timely and necessary analysis of the political economies of conflict in some of the most challenging settings of contemporary UN peace operations –​highly recommended reading for the peacebuilding scholar and practitioner alike.’ Jana Krause, Professor of Political Science, University of Oslo

‘The Political Economy of Civil War and UN Peace Operations is an impressive collection of analyses by authoritative peace operations scholars and practitioners. It clarifies how the political economies of war-​torn societies impact the policies and performance of UN peace operations and demonstrates how essential it is that the UN comprehend local conflict dynamics as well as their political and economic ramifications. A must-​read for all practitioners and observers of international conflict management.’ Thierry Tardy, Director of the Research Division, NATO Defense College, and Visiting Professor, College of Europe ‘Incisive and original, this book offers crucial and practically important analysis of the interface between peacekeeping operations and political economy in a wide range of countries. The chapters combine hard-​hitting analysis with a judicious sense of fairness.This book will be indispensable for those who want to understand the “real world” context of (mostly) well-​meaning external interventions.’ David Keen, Professor of Conflict Studies, Department of International Development, London School of Economics and Political Science ‘The Political Economy of Civil War and UN Peace Operations provides an essential starting point for taking stock of UN Peace support missions, in theory and in practice … Emergent competition amongst powers and renewed efforts by the global south to advance their own agendas, this most critical of UN institutions faces an existential moment indeed. For those faced with pondering the continued viability, success or failure of UN peace missions, this work examines key challenges head-​on with a clear and sober political economy approach and essential case detail.’ Matthew LeRiche, Director of the Global Leadership Center and Assistant Professor of Global Studies, Ohio University, and author (with Matthew Arnold) of South Sudan from Revolution to Independence

THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF CIVIL WAR AND UN PEACE OPERATIONS

This book examines the operational and political challenges facing UN peace operations deployed in countries where civil war and protracted violence have given rise to complex and distinctive political economies of conflict. The volume explores the nature and impact of such political economies –​informal systems of power and influence formed by the interaction of local, national, and region-​wide war economies with the political agendas of conflict actors –​on the course of UN peace operations. It focuses in detail on the UN’s long-​running peace operations in the Democratic Republic of Congo, South Sudan, Afghanistan, Sierra Leone, Mali, and Somalia. The book is centrally concerned with the interaction of UN missions with the power structures and local conflict dynamics that shape individual mission settings, and the challenges these pose for mediation, protection of civilians, and other tasks. It also offers a critical assessment of the various ways in which the UN “system”, from its headquarters in New York to the field, has confronted the policy challenges posed by political economies of conflict-​affected states, societies, and regions. It advances a pragmatic set of policy recommendations aimed at improving the UN’s ability to confront predatory and exploitative war economies. At the same time, the volume makes it clear that political and institutional obstacles to more effective UN action are certain to remain profound and are unlikely ever to be fully overcome let alone eradicated. Despite making some progress since the 1990s to better understand the political economy of civil wars, the UN has struggled with how to tackle informal networks of power and their consequences for efforts to end wars. The book will be of special interest to students of war and conflict studies, statebuilding, political economy of conflict, UN interventionism and peacebuilding, and IR/​Security in general.

Mats Berdal is Professor of Security and Development and Director of the Conflict, Security and Development Research Programme (CSDRG) in the Department of War Studies at King’s College London. Jake Sherman is Minister Counsellor for UN Management and Reform at the United States Mission to the United Nations and formerly Senior Director for Programmes and Director of the Brian Urquhart Center for Peace Operations at the International Peace Institute (IPI).

STUDIES IN CONFLICT, DEVELOPMENT AND PEACEBUILDING

Series Editors: Keith Krause, Oliver Jütersonke and Riccardo Bocco, Centre on Conflict, Development and Peacebuilding (CCDP), Graduate Institute, Switzerland

This series publishes innovative research into the connections between insecurity and under-​development in fragile states, and into situations of violence and insecurity more generally. It adopts a multidisciplinary approach to the study of a variety of issues, including the changing nature of contemporary armed violence (conflict), efforts to foster the conditions that prevent the outbreak or recurrence of such violence (development), and strategies to promote peaceful relations on the communal, societal and international level (peacebuilding). Exploring Peace Formation Security and Justice in Post-​Colonial States Edited by Kwesi Aning, M. Anne Brown,Volker Boege, and Charles T. Hunt Urban Safety and Peacebuilding New Perspectives on Sustaining Peace in the City Edited by Edited by Achim Wennmann and Oliver Jütersonke New Paths and Policies towards Conflict Prevention Chinese and Swiss Perspectives Edited by Courtney J. Fung, Björn Gehrmann, Rachel F. Madenyika, and Jason G.Tower The Political Economy of Civil War and UN Peace Operations Edited by Mats Berdal and Jake Sherman For more information about this series, please visit: https://​www.routle​dge. com/​Stud​ies-​in-​Confl​ict-​Deve​lopm​ent-​and-​Peaceb​uild​ing/​book-​ser ​ies/​COND​ EVPE​ACE

THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF CIVIL WAR AND UN PEACE OPERATIONS

Edited by Mats Berdal and Jake Sherman

Cover image: © UN Photo/​Michael Ali First published 2023 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2023 selection and editorial matter, Mats Berdal and Jake Sherman; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Mats Berdal and Jake Sherman to be identified as the authors 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 Names: Berdal, Mats R., 1965– editor. | Sherman, Jake, editor. Title: The political economy of civil war and UN peace operations / edited by Mats Berdal and Jake Sherman. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2023. | Series: Conflict, development and peacebuilding | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Identifiers: LCCN 2022044128 (print) | LCCN 2022044129 (ebook) | ISBN 9781032164526 (hardback) | ISBN 9781032164441 (paperback) | ISBN 9781003248637 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: United Nations–Peacekeeping forces. | Peace-building–Economic aspects. | Civil war–Economic aspects. | Mission de l’Organisation des Nations Unies en R.D. Congo. | United Nations Mission in South Sudan. | United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan. | United Nations Assistance Mission in Sierra Leone. | United Nations Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in Mali. | United Nations Operation in Somalia. Classification: LCC Z6374 .P64 2023 (print) | LCC Z6374 (ebook) | DDC 327.1/72–dc23/eng/20221122 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022044128 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022044129 ISBN: 978-​1-​032-​16452-​6 (hbk) ISBN: 978-​1-​032-​16444-​1 (pbk) ISBN: 978-​1-​003-​24863-​7 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/​9781003248637 Typeset in Bembo by Newgen Publishing UK

CONTENTS

List of Tables  Notes on Contributors  Acknowledgements  List of Abbreviations  1 The Political Economy of Civil War and UN Peace Operations  Mats Berdal and Jake Sherman

xii xiii xix xx

1

PART I

Conceptual and Thematic Issues 

27

2 The Importance of Political Economy  Jean-​Marie Guéhenno

29

3 Operationalising the “Primacy of Politics” in UN Peace Operations: Implications of Political Economy Analysis  Kenny Gluck

44

4 Engaging with Political Elites and Non-​State Armed Groups: A Mission Perspective  Alan Doss

65

x Contents

5 UN Sanctions, Panels of Experts and the Political Economy of Intrastate Conflict  Charles Cater 6 What Role for Business Actors in UN Peace Operations?  Josie Lianna Kaye 7 Commodities, Commanders and Corruption: Political Economy in the Evolving Tradecraft of Intelligence and Analysis in UN Peace Operations  Dirk Druet 8 Confronting Illicit Economies and Criminal Threats in UN Missions: Operating in the “Grey Zone”  Judith Vorrath

86 107

129

152

PART II

Selected Case Studies  9 The UN and the Logic of Congo’s Political Economy: Politics is Wealth, Wealth is Power  Tatiana Carayannis and Michael J. Kavanagh

173 175

10 The Unbuilding of a State: UNMISS’s Role in the Lead Up to South Sudan’s Civil War  Adam Day

199

11 UNAMA amidst Counter-​Terror and Counterinsurgency: No Peace Left to Keep  Ashley Jackson

219

12 UNAMSIL and the Political Economy of War in Sierra Leone: What is the Price of Peace?  Kieran Mitton

237

13 MINUSMA and the Political Economy of Mali’s Crises  Arthur Boutellis

256

Contents  xi

14 The Political Economy of Peace Operations in Somalia  Ken Menkhaus and Paul D.Williams

279

PART III

Conclusions 

307

15 Adopting a Political Economy Lens: Policy Implications for UN Peace Operations  Mats Berdal and Jake Sherman

309

Index 

324

TABLES

5.1 5.2 5.3 5.4 8.1

Active UN Sanctions Regimes Concerning Intrastate Conflict  Panels of Experts Concerning Intrastate Conflict (1995–​Present)  Panels of Experts, Peace Operations and Cooperation Mandates  UN Sanctions Listings Concerning Intrastate Conflict  Listing Criteria Addressing Illicit Economies Threatening Peace and Security  8.2 Designations of Individuals/​Entities Based on Listing Criteria in Table 8.1  1 4.1 Somali Firms Awarded UNSOA/​S Procurement Contracts, 2012–​2022 

88 91 93 97 157 165 297

NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

Mats Berdal is Professor of Security and Development and Director of the Conflict,

Security and Development Research Programme (CSDRG) in the Department of War Studies at King’s College London. He joined the Department in 2003, having served as Director of Studies at the International Institute for Strategic Studies (IISS) in London from 2000 to 2003. He is a member of the Academia Europaea. He has written extensively on various aspects of the UN, civil war and international security. Arthur Boutellis is a non-​resident senior adviser at the International Peace Institute,

where he was Director of the Brian Urquhart Center for Peace Operations from 2015 to 2017, and a senior adviser with TrustWorks Global. Arthur has worked with the UN missions in Burundi (BINUB), Chad and the Central African Republic (MINURCAT), Haiti (MINUSTAH) and Mali (MINUSMA) where he supported the 2014–​15 Mali peace negotiations as part of the UN Mediation Team. He holds a master’s degree in public affairs from Princeton University, a PhD from Université Paris Panthéon-Assas and is a 2020 auditeur of the Institut des Hautes Études de Défense Nationale (IHEDN). Tatiana Carayannis is a programme director at the Social Science Research

Council, where she directs the Conflict Prevention and Peace Forum (CPPF); the Understanding Violent Conflict and the China and the Global South programmes; and the Academic Network on Peace, Security, and the UN. Carayannis has held a visiting appointment at the London School of Economics and Political Science’s Africa Centre and Department of International Development. She serves on the advisory board of the Governance in Conflict Network and of ResCongo (Réseau Congolais de recherche sur la paix et la sécurité), and is a trustee of the Jean F. Herskovits Foundation. She convened the DRC Affinity Group, a small brain

xiv  Notes on Contributors

trust of leading Congo scholars and the Central Africa Policy Forum, networks she helped found. Her current research focuses on war networks and the shaping of public authority in Central Africa, and the impact of interventions for justice and security on local communities. Her books include The Third UN: How a Knowledge Ecology Helps the UN Think (Oxford University Press, 2021) and Making Sense of the Central African Republic (Zed Books, 2015). She is currently working on two books, Pioneers of Peacekeeping: ONUC 1960–​1964 and Anatomy of Rebellion: JP Bemba and the Mouvement de Liberation du Congo. Charles Cater is the Deputy Director of Illicit Finance Policy for The Sentry, a

non-​governmental organisation based in Washington DC. He served three years, from 2015 to 2018, as a natural resources expert for the UN Monitoring Group on Somalia and Eritrea, which was mandated by the Security Council to monitor and report on UN sanctions implementation. Among other jobs, he has also consulted for the United Nations Development Programme, worked for Security Council Report and the International Peace Institute, and taught at American and Columbia universities. He holds a doctorate in International Relations from the University of Oxford. Adam Day is Head of the Geneva Office of the United Nations University Centre

for Policy Research. He oversees programming on peacebuilding, human rights, peacekeeping, climate security, sanctions, and global governance, while also acting as co-​lead on UNU-​CPR’s support to the High-​Level Advisory Board on Effective Multilateralism. He is also an adjunct associate professor of International and Public Affairs at Columbia’s School of International and Public Affairs, and a visiting senior research fellow at the Centre for Grand Strategy at King’s College London. Prior to joining UNU in 2017, Day served for a decade in the UN, including as Senior Political Adviser to MONUSCO (DRC), in the UN Special Coordinator’s Office for Lebanon, in the front offices of both UNMIS (Khartoum) and UNAMID (Darfur), and was a political officer in both the Department of Political Affairs and the Department of Peacekeeping Operations in New York. Day has also substantial civil society experience, including with Human Rights Watch’s Justice Program and for the Open Society Justice Initiative in Cambodia. Alan Doss is a former Under-Secretary-General of the United Nations. He

worked with the UN on development, humanitarian and peacekeeping issues around the world. He represented the UN Development Programme (UNDP) in various African and Asian countries, opening UNDP offices in Vietnam and China. Later, he led the multi-​agency UN Development Group, set up to enhance the effectiveness of UN development operations. Subsequently, he was appointed as deputy special representative of the Secretary-​General for UN peacekeeping missions in Sierra Leone and Cote d’Ivoire, and then as the Special Representative of the UN missions in Liberia and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Following retirement from the UN, he joined the Kofi Annan

Notes on Contributors  xv

Foundation, becoming the President of the Foundation. Doss stepped down from the Foundation in 2020, and continues to support international efforts to promote peace and development as Chair of the Advisory Board of the Peace Division of the UN Institute for Training and Research (UNITAR) and as a board member of INTERPEACE, the Geneva-​based peacebuilding organisation. He is the author of A Peacekeeper in Africa: Learning from UN Interventions in Other Peoples Wars (Lynne Rienner, 2020). Dirk Druet is a researcher and policy adviser focusing on multilateral peace and

security interventions. He is a former official of the United Nations Departments of Peace Operations and Political and Peacebuilding Affairs, where he advised on intelligence, technology and conflict prevention strategies for UN officials. He has served with UN operations and human rights organisations in Afghanistan, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Rwanda and Kenya. He is an adjunct professor and research affiliate at the Center for International Peace and Security Studies at McGill University in Montreal, where his work focuses on political and protection challenges in complex international emergencies. He is also a non-​resident fellow at the Brian Urquhart Center for Peace Operations of the International Peace Institute in New York, where he works on the protection of civilians in armed conflict and peace operations. Kenny Gluck served as Deputy Special Representative of the UN Secretary-​

General in the Central African Republic from 2017 until December 2019. Prior to this assignment he worked extensively on the Yemen peace process as Deputy to the Special Envoy of the Secretary-​General for Yemen in 2015–​2017 and as Head of Office of the Special Adviser of the Secretary-​General for Yemen in 2013. He also served as Director and Deputy Head of the Peacebuilding Support Office in 2014–​ 2015 and as Chief of Staff of the AU/​UN Joint Mediation for Darfur from 2008 to 2011. Before joining the United Nations, he served as Director of Operations for Médecins Sans Frontières, and in MSF missions in Chechnya, Sudan, Somalia and elsewhere. He was also formerly an adjunct professor of International and Public Affairs at Columbia University where he lectured on peace process design, peacekeeping and international conflict resolution. Jean-​Marie Guéhenno is the Director of the Kent Global Leadership Program

for Conflict Resolution and a professor of practice at the School of International and Public Affairs at Columbia University. A member of both the UN High-​level Advisory Board on Mediation and the Advisory Board on Disarmament Matters, and a distinguished fellow at the Brookings Institution, he sits on the boards of the Carnegie Corporation, the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI), and the École Normale Supérieure in Paris. He also chairs the scientific council of the French Institute for Higher Defense Studies. A French diplomat and a member of the Cour des Comptes, he was appointed by Kofi Annan in 2000 as Under-​Secretary-​General for peacekeeping (2000–​2008), and led the biggest

xvi  Notes on Contributors

expansion of peacekeeping in the history of the United Nations. After leaving the UN in 2008, he taught at Columbia University, but worked again with Kofi Annan as Deputy Special Envoy for Syria (2012). He was later president of the French commission of the White Paper on Defence and National Security (2012–​ 2013), and president of the International Crisis Group (2014–​2017). He is the author of several books. His new book, Le Premier XXIème Siècle, de la globalisation à l’émiettement, was published in France in the fall of 2021. Ashley Jackson is Co-​director of the Centre on Armed Groups, an NGO based

in Geneva. She has spent over a decade working in and on Afghanistan, including as a Political Affairs Officer with UNAMA. She has done extensive research on the Taliban, and is the author of a book about life under the Taliban insurgency’s rule, Negotiating Survival: Civilian-​Insurgent Relations in Afghanistan (Hurst, 2021). She has advised numerous government and aid agencies on Afghanistan, and on the challenges of engagement with armed actors. She holds a doctorate from the Department of War Studies at King’s College London. Michael J. Kavanagh is an American journalist who has reported on Central

African politics and economics since 2004. He was the Bloomberg News correspondent in the DRC between 2009 and 2015, and contributed regularly to The Economist, BBC Business Daily, and The World from BBC/​PRI. His work from Congo has received a number of awards, including a Robert F. Kennedy Award for International Reporting, an Edward R. Murrow Award for writing, an Emmy nomination, and a second-​place prize from the UK Foreign Press Association Award for Financial & Economic story of the year. He has contributed to the New York Times, Slate, the Boston Globe, Foreign Affairs, Foreign Policy, and multiple National Public Radio and public television shows. He has received several grants from the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting and a fellowship from the Pew Foundation/​International Reporting Project. Before moving to Congo full time, he worked for nearly ten years as a reporter and producer for public radio and television. Josie Lianna Kaye specialises in conflict prevention, mediation, and peacebuilding,

with a particular focus on the role of businesses and investors in conflict contexts. She is the CEO and Founder of TrustWorks Global, a Swiss-​based social enterprise which engages public and private sector actors to prevent conflict, promote stability and foster peace-​ positive development. Josie has extensive experience working with international organisations, governments, business, investors, and civil society actors with whom she has worked in North and sub-​Saharan Africa, South and Central Asia, and the Middle East on issues such as conflict sensitivity, insider mediation, political economy analysis, natural resource management, and fostering peace-​sensitive investments. Formerly, she worked as a consultant for the United Nations and for five years as the Assistant Director of the Center for International

Notes on Contributors  xvii

Conflict Resolution (CICR), a staff associate of research and an adjunct professor at Columbia University in New York. She has a D.Phil. from the University of Oxford on the role of business in peace. Ken Menkhaus is C. Louise Nelson Professor of Political Science at Davidson

College and author of over 50 articles and chapters on Somalia and the Horn of Africa. In 1993–​94, he served as special political adviser in the UN Operation in Somalia. His many publications include Somalia: State Collapse and the Threat of Terrorism (Routledge, 2005) in the Adelphi Paper Series (IISS), and “Elite Bargains and Political Deals Project: Somalia Case Study”, prepared for the Stabilisation Unit (UK) in 2018. Kieran Mitton is a Reader in Conflict, Security and Development in the

Department of War Studies, where he is also the Research Director of the Conflict, Security & Development Research Group and the Co-​ chair of the Africa Research Group. He specialises in field research on violence and youth marginality, with extensive experience in Sierra Leone, Brazil, and South Africa. He has published widely on violence, conflict, and post-​conflict peacebuilding processes, and is the author of Rebels in a Rotten State: Approaches to Understanding Atrocity in the Sierra Leone Civil War (Hurst, 2015). He is the co-​founder of the Urban Violence Research Network and acts regularly as a consultant for government, inter-​governmental, and civil society organisations focused on peacebuilding and development. Jake Sherman is Minister Counsellor for UN Management and Reform at the

United States Mission to the United Nations (USUN). Prior to joining USUN, he was Senior Director for Programmes and Director of the Brian Urquhart Center for Peace Operations at the International Peace Institute (IPI). He has over 20 years of experience in government, non-​ governmental organisations, and the UN, including in Afghanistan, the Balkans, and Cambodia. He is the editor, with Karen Ballentine, of The Political Economy of Armed Conflict: Beyond Greed and Grievance (Lynne Rienner, 2004). He has written numerous policy papers on UN peace operations, including “Action for Peacekeeping: One Year into Implementation of the Declaration of Shared Commitments” (IPI, 2019) and “The Future of UN Peacekeeping and Parallel Operations” (IPI, 2020). Judith Vorrath is a senior associate in the International Security Division of the

German Institute for International and Security Affairs (SWP) in Berlin. She has published widely on peace and security in sub-​Saharan Africa including on transnational organised crime in the context of armed conflict and fragility as well as on the UN peace and security architecture. Previously she has been a post-​doctoral fellow at SWP, at the US Institute of Peace in Washington DC and the European Union Institute for Security Studies in Paris. She holds a Doctor of Science from

xviii  Notes on Contributors

the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology (ETH) where she pursued her studies at the Center for Security Studies and as part of an National Center of Competence in Research on Democracy in the 21st Century (NCCR) research project focusing on post-​war transitions in the African Great Lakes Region. Paul D. Williams is Professor in the Elliott School of International Affairs at the

George Washington University, USA. His books include Fighting for Peace in Somalia:A History and Analysis of the African Union Mission, 2007–​2017 (Oxford University Press, 2018) and Understanding Peacekeeping (Polity Press, 3rd edition, 2021).

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

When we first discussed the idea of a book on the political economy of UN peace operations, we quickly agreed on two things. The first was the need to draw upon the insights and perspectives not only of academics but also of practitioners who have been directly involved in planning and directing UN missions deployed in conditions of actual or latent civil war. Second, we were determined to explore individual conflicts and operations in detail, giving due attention in each case to the historical and political context of the conflicts that had prompted UN involvement in the first place. The contributors were approached with these considerations in mind. We gratefully acknowledge their constructive and steadfast commitment to the project, notwithstanding many other demands and pressures on their time. We would also like to thank the Series Editors and the editorial team at Routledge for their support, encouragement, and patience throughout the process of putting the volume together. The views expressed in Chapters 1 and 15 are those of the authors and are not necessarily those of the US government. Mats Berdal and Jake Sherman London and New York August 2022

ABBREVIATIONS

AMISOM ASIFU

African Union Mission to Somalia All Sources Information Fusion Unit (deployed with MINUSMA in Mali) ATMIS African Union Transition Mission in Somalia DPA Department of Political Affairs (UN) DPKO Department of Peacekeeping Operations (UN) DPO Department of Peace Operations (UN) DPPA Department of Political and Peacebuilding Affairs (UN) FCS Fragile and conflict-​affected situations GEMAP Governance and Economic Management Assistance Program (Liberia) JMAC Joint Military Analysis Cell (UN) MINUSCA UN Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in the Central African Republic MINUSCA UN Mission in the Central African Republic MINUSMA UN Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in Mali MNCs Multinational corporations MONUC UN Mission in the Democratic Republic of the Congo MONUSCO UN Stabilization Mission in the Democratic Republic of the Congo NSAG Non-​state armed groups OC Organised crime OSESGY Office of the Special Envoy of the Secretary-General for Yemen PoEs Panel of Experts (UN) RUMs Risk management units (UN) SMEs Small and medium enterprises SRSG Special Representative of the Secretary-​General (UN)

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List of Abbreviations  xxi

UNAMA UNAMSIL UNMIL UNMISS UNOCI UNSOM UNAMID UNSMIL

UN Assistance Mission in Afghanistan UN Mission in Sierra Leone UN Mission in Liberia UN Mission in South Sudan UN Operation in Côte D’Ivoire UN Assistance Mission in Somalia UN-African Union Hybrid Mission in Darfur UN Support Mission in Libya

1 THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF CIVIL WAR AND UN PEACE OPERATIONS Mats Berdal and Jake Sherman

Introduction This book is concerned with the operational and political challenges facing United Nations (UN) peace operations deployed within societies fractured by civil war and protracted violence, the dominant setting for nearly all UN field operations since the early 1990s.1 It is premised on the conviction that both the record and future effectiveness of UN involvement in such settings require an in-​depth understanding of the ways in which individual missions have all had to operate within distinctive political economies of conflict, that is, informal systems of power, influence and governance formed by the interaction of local, national and region-​wide war economies with the political agendas of conflict actors, yet whose evolution and workings will also have been shaped by longer-​term historical factors, cultural specificities and unique developmental trajectories. Informing the book as a whole are three underlying questions: • •

•

What has been the impact of distinctive political economies on the course and trajectory of UN peace operations? In what ways has the UN “system”, from its headquarters in New York to its field operations, sought to address the policy challenges posed by political economies of conflict-​affected states and regions? What are some of the wider lessons from the UN’s experience of operating within, and interacting with, political economies of intrastate conflict over the past three decades?

The present chapter expands on the intellectual and policy rationale for a more systematic study of the political economy of civil war and UN peace operations, and is divided into three, necessarily overlapping, parts. DOI: 10.4324/9781003248637-1

2  Mats Berdal and Jake Sherman

The first of these sets out our understanding of political economy and elaborates on the value of applying what we term a political economy lens to the study of war and violence within fragile and conflict-​affected states.We identify the strengths and importance of political economy analysis but, equally, draw attention to some of its limitations, especially where such analysis underplays the importance of factors other than the economic drivers of conflict and elite behaviour. The second part turns to the evolution and contemporary character of UN peace operations. It highlights elements both of change and continuity in the practice of UN peacekeeping and, crucially, notes how those elements have combined to increase the need for engaging –​conceptually, politically and operationally –​ with the political economy of conflict. It argues that in relation to a number of policy challenges facing UN peace operations in the field –​from the need to better understand the sources of violence and the behaviour of armed groups to the reasons why conventional approaches to security sector reform (SSR) and other capacity-​building initiatives have fared so poorly –​political economy analysis offers not merely an additional perspective but is essential to a proper assessment of the record and prospects of UN involvement in civil wars. The final part examines the political, institutional and conceptual factors that help explain why the “UN” –​understood, as it properly should be, both as a collection of sovereign member states and as a corporate entity serving and working alongside member states2 –​has struggled, though not without some limited achievements, to engage effectively with the political economy of civil war. In a separate and concluding chapter, we turn more explicitly to the policy recommendations that flow from the analysis and insights provided by the contributions to the volume.

Political Economy Analysis of War and Conflict: Strengths and Limitations The concept of political economy has been applied to the study of a wide range of subjects, often loosely and without much precision. Indeed, as Peter Gourevitch has noted, the concept has long since “fragmented into discrete components so varied that users of the label do not necessarily communicate or know anything about each other”.3 It is necessary therefore to set out what we understand, but also to clarify what we do not mean, by a political economy “lens” or “perspective” when it comes to the study of the UN’s involvement in civil wars or civil war-​like settings. The approach to political economy taken throughout the book falls within a broad but recognisable tradition of inquiry concerned, fundamentally, with the “interconnectedness, or the interaction between economics and other forces”.4 What this focus on interconnectedness means in the context of our particular inquiry is most usefully illustrated by looking at the ways in which the UN –​especially, though not exclusively, through the work of its intergovernmental organs and the resolutions authorising the deployment and establishing the mandates of individual

The Political Economy of Civil War and UN Peace Operations  3

missions –​has conceived of the problem of civil war, and how the insights offered by political economy analysis serve to challenge, often profoundly so, that very conception. In the language of Security Council resolutions authorising or renewing the deployment of UN peace operations, UN missions operate within states which, although violence-​r idden and weakened by conflict, are nonetheless conceptualised by reference to a Weberian legal-​ rational ideal of the state: a geographically circumscribed entity, operating through a set of formal institutions, claiming a monopoly on the legitimate use of violence, rule-​making and governance. Its legitimacy in the eyes of its citizens derives from its ability to deliver public goods and services, above all security and physical protection, but also other services designed to improve the quality of life, from health and education to institutions offering various degrees of social and economic protection. Against this, the role of UN missions, deployed with the explicit consent of the state, has been to extend the authority and reach of central government by restoring and strengthening state capacities and formal institutions weakened, hollowed out or destroyed by war.5 Assisting in building modern liberal states along Weberian lines, relying on capacity-​ building, aid and technical support, has been viewed as the answer to the scourge of civil war and instability.6 As Ashley Jackson’s study of the UN Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (UNAMA) makes clear, the case of Afghanistan –​a fractured, ethnically diverse and politically complex country torn by years of civil war yet treated as a blank slate on which new, democratic structures and forms of governance could quickly be erected –​provides a particularly striking example of the assumptions governing external, including UN, involvement in efforts to build peace after civil war. It was an approach, as Jackson pointedly adds, that singularly failed to “engage with the political economy that had developed over the preceding decades of conflict and tumult”.7 The Afghan case, while striking, is plainly not an isolated example. Although the context, size and complexity of UN missions have necessarily varied, there is still, as Adam Day observes, a startling similarity in the mandates of major peace operations deployed in civil wars: in DRC, Mali, Central African Republic, Libya, and Darfur, the UN has been tasked with remarkably similar roles of extending state authority and bolstering state capacity.8 And yet, the conditions of civil war and protracted conflict into which UN peace operations have deployed have not merely weakened states, ensuring they fall short of the Weberian ideal: they have also transformed the social, economic and political bases of power within societies, resulting in the emergence of alternative political and economic orders and distinctive political economies. As political economy analysis, ethnographic and more historically informed studies have all shown, civil wars, while costly and destructive, cannot be viewed simply as the descent into purposeless violence or the complete breakdown of existing peacetime

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authority structures.9 Alternative systems emerge, shaped and moulded by the manner in which political-​military elites and power brokers, as well as citizens and households concerned with coping and survival amidst conflict and economic uncertainty, adjust to the realities of war, state fragility and the erosion of functional central government.10 Processes of adjustment, involving the search for new sources and means of income generation, will often produce non-​state forms of governance and networks of power and privilege that operate alongside, and/​or behind the façade of, formal institutions.11 Such systems and the war economies that underpin them will frequently also have important regional, even global, dimensions, given by transnational patterns of trade, commerce and economic activity –​formal and informal, licit and illicit, many with deep historical roots –​that cut across established borders. It is important to stress that the political economies that crystallise within zones of ongoing conflict are neither fixed nor static. They will have evolved from earlier and inherited governance patterns and ways of organising power within society, and, as with civil war itself, they are subject to mutation over time in response to internal and external pressures and stimuli. As revenue streams and sources of patronage dry up, other income-​generating mechanisms emerge.12 The processes of mutation and inevitable differences in historical and political context account for the “infinite variations and nuances of the political economy of conflict”.13 They also help explain why the distinction between “war” and “peace” is neither neat nor clear-​cut in any of the UN operational settings explored in this volume. Indeed, even while technically ended through agreements whose implementation UN peacekeepers are deployed to support, civil wars will often have evolved into protracted states of no-​peace-​no-​war. In many cases, the basic reason for this is that conflict actors will have acquired a vested interest in the continuation of violent conflict. For many combatant groups, “an intermediate situation of low intensity conflict suits them best, because it keeps the state weak, and that weakness is part and parcel of their business model”.14 State weakness, chronic insecurity and the absence of rule of law become, as it has for some of Somalia’s most powerful political actors, the “preferred political ecosystem”.15 Nowhere, perhaps, have the processes sketched in rather abstract terms above been studied and documented more thoroughly than in the case of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), where, more than twenty years after the first arrival of UN peacekeepers, violence and insecurity remain endemic in the eastern provinces of North Kivu, South Kivu and Ituri.16 As Tatiana Carayannis and Michael Kavanagh make clear, understanding the sources of violence and persistent instability in eastern Congo today requires an appreciation of how a distinctive political economy of war and peace has evolved over time: The fall of the Mobutu regime set in motion a profound change in the functioning of patronage networks, which increasingly fragmented into relatively autonomous centres of competition. The collapse of the centre made room for the further emergence of local “big men” and alternative, transborder

The Political Economy of Civil War and UN Peace Operations  5

power networks. This fragmentation was particularly acute in eastern Congo, where, from 1996 onwards, power was largely exercised through three newly established political-​military power networks, some with links to Kinshasa and others to the Rwandan and Ugandan regimes. These power networks struggled bitterly for sovereignty over territory, people, and resources. The result was the emergence of a militarized political economy, which was shaped by coercion, the military control of key sites of revenue generation, including production sites, marketplaces, border posts, and infrastructural nodes, forced monopolies, coercive resource extraction, price fixing, plunder, and assets stripping.17 As the case of the DRC makes clear, the political orders that emerge during periods of protracted civil and political strife are often predatory in nature, aimed at personal enrichment through the capturing of criminal rent and the exploitation, systematic and opportunistic, of vulnerable civilian populations through pillaging, violent taxation and abusive resource extraction. The predatory and violence-​generating character of such orders typically becomes more entrenched over time as military-​ political elites become ever more invested in conflict and the war economies they generate. As a recent Group of Experts report on the DRC concludes, persistent insecurity in eastern DRC remains intimately linked to the involvement of armed groups, criminal networks and agents of law enforcement in the illegal exploitation and trade of natural resources, especially gold, but also tin, tantalum and tungsten.18 Much of the academic and policy interest in war economies within areas of UN deployment has rightly focused precisely on their exploitative and illiberal aspects, the suffering produced and the obstacles they present to societal transformation and durable peace. As noted above, however, for many communities, groups and individuals, adapting to the exigencies of civil war is also, fundamentally, about finding ways of coping with the collapse of livelihoods, insecurity and radical economic uncertainty. Indeed, in some cases, the challenge is about more than just coping. As Boutellis observes about Mali’s political economy of conflict, the very “survival of northern Malian society” since 2013 has come to depend on the illicit flow of subsidised goods from Algeria, representing up to 90 per cent of basic goods from powered milk to fuel.19 More than simply “intractable instances of anarchy and chaos”, many protracted conflicts in Africa, as Menkhaus, Raeymaekers and Vlassenroot have persuasively shown elsewhere, involve “practical attempts by populations and individuals –​households, entrepreneurs, but also administrators, customary rules and militia members to cope with the consequences of long-​term political crisis”.20 The larger point here is that the interaction of economic and political agendas held by conflict actors can produce new structures of power and governance, and that these may come to acquire a degree of local legitimacy on account of the life-​sustaining services they are able to provide to local communities, including a reduction in violence and access to justice and informal dispute settlement mechanisms.21 Understanding the political dynamics at work in shaping such orders with a view to reinforcing incentives for peaceable behaviour and peaceful

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change –​identifying and supporting coalitions committed to peace and inclusive governance –​should be a core function of political economy analysis within UN missions.22 This raises a final and important consideration concerning our approach to and understanding of political economy. Reflecting on the direction of political economy analysis within the field of development studies, David Hudson and Adrian Leftwich, writing in 2014, expressed their concern about the limitations of political economy analysis conceived merely as the application of “concepts of economics and economic analysis to the field of politics”.23 The danger in so doing is that the role of politics itself and of political agency is neglected, while other factors critical to explaining outcomes and shaping behaviour are too readily understated.24 The concerns expressed by Hudson and Leftwich apply with equal, if not greater, force to the study of war and conflict.25 The drivers of violence and the sources of chronic instability within conflict zones plainly cannot be reduced merely to calculations of economic and material benefits on the part of political-​military elites acting as “rational” and “utility-​maximising” agents. However important such drivers may be in specific contexts, they cannot be isolated from other factors and behavioural influences –​ideas, values, cultural norms, historical traditions, ethnic and religious identities, security concerns –​ when it comes to explaining the dynamics of a given political economy of conflict. The cases presented in this volume strongly underscore the limitations of reductionist definitions of the political economy of conflict focusing on economic incentives alone.26 Individual motives and group interests in civil wars are invariably mixed and complex. As Alan Doss observes, the so-​called “political elites” with which he interacted in the field over a period of ten years all harboured “disparate ambitions and aims driven by an eclectic mix of ideological, religious, political, ethnic, and pecuniary motives”.27 A related and still more fundamental reason for resisting the reductionist impulse, however, is the fact that economic and political agendas and motives cannot be treated in isolation from one another but, rather, must be viewed in their mutual interaction. As Caryannis and Kavanagh write of the “networks of war” that have evolved in the DRC, these are also “political projects used to assert new claims on resources and political authority”.28 “They are both the locus of the activity of contentious politics and the means with which to bring about political change; and while there may be different types of networks, even economic trade networks can have a political purpose”.29 It follows that the importance of politics and political processes should also inform thinking, planning and strategising within UN peace operations.

UN Peace Operations and the Political Economy of Intrastate Conflict Although talk of crisis and the urgent need for reform are perennial themes running through the history of UN peacekeeping, what are now more usually referred to as UN peace operations –​encompassing the full spectrum of activities from special

The Political Economy of Civil War and UN Peace Operations  7

political missions (SPMs) to large-​scale multi-​dimensional missions –​can still credibly claim to be the flagship activity of the organisation. As of mid-​2022, some 87,000 peacekeepers, including uniformed and civilian personnel from more than 120 contributing countries, were deployed on 12 peacekeeping missions, supported by a US$6.5 billion budget –​more than twice the size of the UN’s regular budget, which also encompasses 38 SPMs.30 Against this, it is perhaps unsurprising that much of the writings on contemporary UN peace operations continue to emphasise the extent to which UN field operations and missions have changed since the days of “traditional” peacekeeping. There are of course good and obvious reasons for this. Viewed a whole, the post-​Cold War period has seen major changes in the scope, scale and operational focus of UN operations, especially when contrasted to the “classic” function of interposition between disputants to an inter-​state conflict. And yet, the history of peacekeeping is not simply one of discontinuity and change away from an ideal type. Recognising what has and what has not changed in the evolution of UN peace operations is essential to an understanding of why issues of political economy have become ever more central to the discussion of its record and prospects. In terms of change, two related aspects merit special attention.The first and most striking element of change lies in the level of ambition displayed by UN missions, reflected in the mandates and the specific tasks entrusted to peacekeepers, many of them not only logistically and technically demanding but also, crucially, of a politically sensitive and domestically intrusive nature. Disarming, demobilising and reintegrating combatants; reforming security sector institutions; dismantling militias and self-​defence groups; restoring state administration; monitoring human rights; protecting civilians under threat of violence –​these are all among the tasks routinely entrusted to UN peacekeepers. The span of responsibilities has necessarily varied across the spectrum of operations. In some cases, UN objectives have, at least on paper, been truly transformative in their level of ambition, involving as in South Sudan nothing less than the attempt to build a state “from scratch”.31 Where UN political missions have exercised more modest mediation, monitoring and good offices functions, even these have, inescapably, required an understanding of and engagement with the political economy of conflict in the countries and regions concerned. The reason for this is closely connected to the second element of change alluded to above: the overwhelming concentration of UN peace operations in situations of ongoing intrastate conflict or civil war-​like settings. UN missions now routinely find themselves deployed in what the Report of the High-​Level Independent Panel on United Nations Operations (HIPPO) of 2015 described, variously, as “situations of sustained armed conflict”, “non-​permissive” or “high-​tempo and insecure environments”.32 In such circumstances, even though technically deployed in a third-​party capacity, UN peacekeepers themselves become actors –​political and economic –​in their own right. In some cases, notably in Somalia, external peace operations and peacebuilding missions have become “a critical source of finances and resources over which political elites and their supporters struggle”.33 Their

8  Mats Berdal and Jake Sherman

presence and dispositions in the mission area have become a factor that impinges directly on local political arrangements, while their economic footprint is profound and distorting in its consequences. In the words of Menkhaus and Williams, while state-​builders and peacekeepers in Somalia have often strived to maintain impartiality, “their procurement, rents, subcontracting, employment, outsourcing, and geographic targeting of aid and operations are viewed by Somalis as deeply political acts that can tip the local balance of power”.34 These realities –​quite especially where the size and responsibilities of peace operations have expanded over time –​carry important implications for the day-​to-​day functioning of UN peace operations, including, critically, their ability to effectively support political pathways out of violence. In terms of continuity, there are similarly two aspects that merit special attention. The first concerns the fundamental bases of UN involvement. Although the tasks given to peacekeepers, from SSR to human rights monitoring, have become more expansive, politically sensitive and intrusive in character, UN peace operations do not, as a general rule, possess executive authority and both initial deployment and ongoing activities have remained firmly premised on the principles of “consent of the parties, impartiality, and non-​use of force, except in self-​defence and defence of the mandate”.35 For all that has been written and said about “muscular” and “robust” peacekeeping and the experimentation such talk has spawned, UN peace operations remain fundamentally consent-​based operations. Put differently, UN peacekeepers continue to rely and depend for their effective functioning on the support and cooperation of host authorities and parties to conflict. The implications for the conduct of operations are profound and pervasive. The second source of continuity derives, more straightforwardly, from the persistence of certain inherent challenges facing the UN when it comes to organising, sustaining and directing operations, ranging from the continuing lack of enabling capacities to cumbersome logistics arrangements, antiquated procurement practises and a dysfunctional system for human resource management. Taken together, such factors place natural limits on the degree to which missions can ever operate as truly cohesive and integrated entities. The persistence of these challenges derives as much from political as they do from technical obstacles (let alone from any shortage of suggestions for reform over the years), and that of course explains why they have proved so difficult to overcome. Given this more complex picture of change and continuity in history of UN peacekeeping, how does the focus on political economy contribute to our understanding of both the record and future challenges of UN peace operations? The light shone by a political economy approach on four, necessarily connected, issues that run through the book serves to illustrate the importance of that contribution. These are: the sources of violence and dynamics of armed group behaviour, the significance of non-​state forms of governance, the transnational characteristics of modern war economies and the limits of existing or conventional UN approaches to peace operations.

The Political Economy of Civil War and UN Peace Operations  9

Understanding the Sources of Violence and Armed Group Behaviour Political economy analysis provides a tool for disentangling the motives and interests of individuals for joining, and communities for supporting, armed groups. As such, it sheds an important light on the sources of violence and the dynamics of armed group formation, financing and behaviour in areas of UN deployment. Where, for example, armed groups are “weakly structured, incohesive and fragmented”,36 characterised by lack of centralised leadership, opaque chains of command and heavy reliance on economic predation for group survival –​all notable features of the conflict landscape in the CAR, DRC, South Sudan and Mali –​the political economy lens helps explain their tendency towards fragmentation and frequent defections.37 In its emphasis on the interaction of economic and political agendas, it also helps explain why the levels of violence typically identified by the UN –​from communal and local at one end to sub-​national, national and cross-​border at the other –​are in reality deeply intertwined, and why violence itself comes to acquire a degree of functional utility to members of armed groups. As Kenny Gluck reflected in a mission strategy paper prepared for the UNMISS leadership in 2020: rather than a clear division between national and sub-​national violence, or between intercommunal and political violence, the two phenomena exist in constant interaction in South Sudan as in most conflicts. The manipulation by Juba elites of local fighting has tended to receive a high degree of attention, but it is also necessary to recognize the diverse ways in which localized conflict relates to national political and military competition.38 These observations are echoed in Carayannis and Kavanagh’s critique of MONUSCO’s engagement with the political economy of DRC, pointing to a persistent failure to “recognize that one cannot simply build the state locally in isolation of national dynamics, and without understanding how local actors relate to national and regional political, security, and economic dynamics”.39 The complex, varied and mutable nature of the motives and interests held by individuals that join and support armed groups explain in part why such groups are often neither monolithic nor stable.40 At the same time, many of them are also deeply embedded within local communities and socio-​economic networks, themselves the product of distinctive historical, cultural and political dynamics. Understanding the nature of armed group–​community relationships is plainly critical to effective design of policy interventions by UN missions. All of this in turn suggests that generalisations and monocausal explanations about the drivers of violence should be treated with caution, especially those that focus on greed and the accumulation of wealth alone as the source of political action.41 The obvious implication for the UN and UN peace operations is that “each set of conflict actors –​elites and armed groups alike –​ has to be appraised in the specific context of the region or locality where they are active”.42

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Engaging with Non-​State Forms Governance The perspective of political economy can provide important insights into non-​state forms of governance, how these have crystallised during conflict, the degree of local legitimacy they sometimes enjoy and how their workings can either thwart or be made to support the objectives of UN peace operations. In the case of South Sudan, as Day persuasively argues, the failure of UN planners to account for the presence and workings of an underlying and highly resilient governance system, rooted in a long history of war and state weakness, “meant that UNMISS’ state-​building approach may have unintentionally fed conflict dynamics in the lead-​up to the civil war rather than preventing them”.43 In Mali, the conflict landscape now includes large swathes of territory where economic governance is provided by non-​state armed groups beyond the state, encompassing goldmining, kidnapping, illicit trafficking and cattle rustling, but also “mutually agreed, negotiated, or coerced business partnerships with local economic actors, illegal taxation and extortion practices”.44 While exploitative and violent forms of non-​ state governance are clearly inimical to efforts aimed at building sustainable peace, the very precariousness of formal institutions and the conditions of uncertainty that violent political strife create also, as stressed above, force citizens and households to take practical steps to cope and survive. In the process of doing so, local political orders may emerge that provide basic governance, delivering services and public goods in the absence of functioning central government, including security and justice. These may in turn provide the foundations for more lasting and less violent political orders, forms of “governance without government”45 that may even be regional in scope. There is no automaticity here, no obvious route to manipulating incentives structures of conflict actors. Again, however, an understanding of the range of interests involved in adjusting to conditions of protracted conflict is prerequisite for a more realistic assessment of both the possibilities and limitations of effective UN action, including what kinds of programmatic interventions will or will not promote functioning and more inclusive forms of governance.46

The Transnational and Networked Characteristics of Political Economies of Conflict The political economy of contemporary civil wars, as both the thematic and case-​specific chapters make clear, is fuelled by regional and global competition for influence among powers as well as by transnational economic networks and global processes of exchange, licit and illicit, that cut across national borders. In South Sudan, the role played by Sudan, Ethiopia and Uganda in feeding a “cycle of rebellion and integration as a central element in their regional political action”, has long been a feature of its political economy.47 Similarly, the dynamics of armed conflict in Sierra Leone, Liberia and Mali cannot be isolated from its wider regional context and the role played both neighbouring states and transborder economic networks in sustaining violence and state fragility. The well-​documented case of

The Political Economy of Civil War and UN Peace Operations  11

DRC shows that networks underpinning conflict are neither confined to the region, nor is instability fed merely by the political machinations of immediate neighbours. DRC’s political economy, as Caryannis and Kavanagh make clear, “needs to be understood in the context of transnational regional economies and the global economy” in which “multinational corporations, businesses linked to foreign governments, international corporations, offshore financial centres, and global markets” have all been “complicit in perpetuating war economies, frequently being key nodes in networks that supply goods and services and provide market outlets to warring government authorities, rebels, and warlords”.48 As the work of numerous UN panels of experts have detailed, Congo is far from the only location where intrastate conflict is sustained by transnational networks and illicit market structures. The cases covered in the present volume not only highlight the importance played by these structures in enabling and perpetuating violent conflict but also provide a vital clue to grasping some of the political and institutional reasons why the UN, in New York and in the field, has consistently struggled to address this critical dimension of political economy (see discussion below).

Questioning the Assumptions Underlying the UN’s Approach to Peace Operations The fourth and arguably most important role of political economy analysis lies in the insights offered into the limitations of the dominant or conventional approaches favoured by the UN in dealing with intra-​state conflict, specifically the focus on (re) building state capacity and extending the authority of central government through technocratic and apolitical means, ignoring the transformative effects of war on the socio-​economic fabric and political bases of power within societies. Those limitations have been particularly striking in the area of SSR, where capacity-​ building has tended to assume a mechanical and templated form separated from political processes and underlying conflict dynamics.49 In the case of Somalia, to take but one example, the external provision of aid (involving training, equipment, and salaries for Somali security forces) has in theory been geared towards building “an inclusive and integrated security sector”, and yet, all too often, the actual effect of aid has instead been to provide “political elites in control of those forces with enhanced clan-​based militias, often put to use to advance parochial personal and/​or clan agendas”.50 Kenny Gluck, similarly, draws particular attention to the counterproductive consequences of UN’s penchant for supporting mediation efforts “based on wishful thinking and a wilful neglect of the nature, characteristics, and capacity of armed groups”.51 It is a tendency, he persuasively argues, which, ignorant of political economy and focused on securing national agreements, has directly undermined the fulfilment of core objectives of UN peace operations. As he damningly notes, too often the prioritization of the search for and implementation of national agreements, which focuses on a country’s central political or inter-​communal cleavage,

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limits the capacity of peace operations and peace processes to effectively promote the reduction of violence, the protection of civilians, and political progress.52 The lesson for the UN: “rather than establishing the conclusion of agreements between belligerents as the primary objective, peace processes and peace operations should be directed to focus on impact, in terms of reduced violence, more stable polities and inclusive governance”.53

Engaging with the Political Economy of Conflicts: Challenges Confronting the UN The highly uneven record of UN peace operations in dealing with the political economy of intra-​state conflict over the past three decades is usually attributed to neglect, compounded by limited analytical capacity and a lack of effective policy tools both at headquarters and in the field. There is clearly some merit to this charge. Reflecting on the UN’s engagement in Libya in 2011 and 2012, Ian Martin, Special Representative of the Secretary-​General (SRSG) and Head of the United Nations Support Mission in Libya (UNSMIL) at the time, has recently noted how his mission “would have benefitted from an earlier understanding of Libya’s political economy and what would become leading drivers of later conflict”.54 Alan Doss, who served in senior mission leadership positions in Sierra Leone, Côte d’Ivoire, Liberia and DRC between 2001 and 2011, candidly acknowledges that “as outsiders, we were only tangentially aware of the motivations of the political elites and armed non-​state groups who were driving and distorting the political economy for their own power, privilege, and profit”.55 While these observations relate to operations a decade or more ago, the need to improve the analytic capacity of UN missions has plainly not diminished. Even in the DRC, where the importance of political economy was recognised from the very outset of the UN’s involvement, MONUSCO has not created an “internal capacity for political economy analysis”.56 In other missions too, as Boutellis resignedly notes of the UN operation in Mali, “political economy is unfortunately still an afterthought” (a paradox in MINUSMA’s case given that the mission has been unusually well-​endowed with both intelligence-​gathering and analytical assets).57 And yet, attributing the UN’s record only to neglect, insufficient analytic capacity or a paucity of tools is to simplify a more complex story. There are two aspects to this. On the one hand, recognition of the importance of political economy to peace operations has plainly evolved over time, resulting in additional resources and some, potentially, useful policy initiatives. On the other hand, focusing on neglect and limited capacity alone underplays what are, ultimately, the more critical obstacles –​fundamentally political and institutional in nature –​to tackling the negative and destabilising dynamics associated with political economies of intra-​ state conflict. Both aspects merit further attention as they bear directly on the future of UN peace operations.

The Political Economy of Civil War and UN Peace Operations  13

Not only Secretariat departments and mission leaderships but also the Security Council have all, especially over the past two decades, become increasingly aware of the importance of political economy to the prospects of sustainable peace. Growing awareness has led to a strengthening of information-​gathering and processing capacities and has also stimulated efforts to refine the tools available for influencing conflict dynamics. In some cases, most notably again in the DRC, the pernicious effect of a predatory war economy was recognised from the outset, as evidenced in the early establishment of a panel of experts (PoE) whose reporting, along with that of subsequent groups of experts, has become a vital source of information about the “links between the exploitation of the natural resources and other forms of wealth in the DRC and the continuation of the conflict”.58 Through investigations, monitoring and reporting, other PoEs –​that is, special political missions created to support the Security Council and its sanctions committees in facilitating the implementation of UN sanctions59 –​have greatly improved our understanding of the political economy underlying nearly all of the conflicts where the UN has been operating, including Somalia, South Sudan, Afghanistan, Sierra Leone, Mali, Liberia, CAR, Yemen and Cote d’Ivoire. In all of these save Sierra Leone, PoEs have also been mandated to cooperate and coordinate their activities with the UN peace operation in-​country. Although the remit and investigative powers of PoEs have varied from case to case, when considered alongside improvements in access to information from other sources (notably that generated by joint mission analysis centres (JMACs) and, in some cases, intelligence offered by member states), the processing of which has been aided by increasingly sophisticated information management and analysis technologies, there can be no doubt that the UN’s overall capacity for information gathering and analysis has been strengthened over the years.60 “This is especially true”, as Druet significantly adds, “at the field mission level, where UN peace operations often deploy a wide range of capacities with different mandates, expertise and access to local sources of information which, when well directed and organized, can serve broader strategic purposes”.61 Nor, as indicated, is the UN entirely without tools and mechanisms for addressing challenges posed by violent and destabilising political economies. Some of these are potentially powerful and have on occasion proved effective. Chief among them are different kinds of sanctions designed to influence, directly or indirectly, the political economy of conflict, including arms embargos, natural resource sanctions and travel bans and/​or asset freezes imposed on individuals and entities, the latter prompted by the Security Council’s increased use of more targeted listing criteria (and a corresponding decline in commodity export bans) linking natural resource exploitation to organised crime and armed groups.62 Now, the actual impact of greater contextual knowledge, and the availability of tools to influence, at least in theory, the incentive structures of groups and individuals, is much more difficult to assess. The lasting impact of some of the more comprehensive efforts to tackle the pernicious effects of the political economy of conflict –​for example, Sierra Leone’s National Recovery Strategy (NRS) or, more ambitiously and more controversially, Liberia’s Governance and

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Economic Management Assistance Programme (GEMAP) –​remains contested and ambiguous.63 And there are clearly instances where actions taken by the UN (by the Council and missions in the field) have produced perverse outcomes on the ground. In particular, the second-​and third-​order effects of sanctions, notably an increase in violence and predation by armed groups targeting civilians and the disruption of humanitarian aid, have often outweighed what are the relatively symbolic gains of policies that often amount to little more than the naming and shaming of individuals. Legitimate concern has also been expressed about the ease with which organised criminal networks and corrupt officials have been able to circumvent natural resource sanctions and arms embargos (the ban on export of charcoal from Somalia being a case in point), as well as their ability to maintain control of, even tightening their grip on, licit and illicit rents.64 Nonetheless, there are still instances where pressure applied directly on conflict actors has had a beneficial effect on prospects for peace, a notable case in point being the decisive impact on the political economy of conflict in West Africa of targeted sanctions against Liberia in 2001 and Charles Taylor’s eventual removal from power in 2003.65 Some of the effects of increased understanding may also be more indirect but no less important for that reason, including a greater appreciation shown by mission leaderships of the ways in which national actors based in capitals often drive conflict in the periphery, as seen, notably, in the cases of South Sudan and DRC. In Mali, CAR and South Sudan, moreover, increased understanding of political economy has also prompted greater political engagement by UN missions at the local level, with evidence indicating that more locally targeted mediation, dialogue and peace-​making efforts have helped mitigate violent conflict between armed groups and communities, something which, at least in theory, has enhanced the prospects for progress at the national level.66 For all this, when it comes to influencing the political economy of intra-​state conflict in ways that reduce levels of violence and contribute to the formation of more inclusive and peaceful political orders, it is impossible to escape the conclusion that the overall record of UN peace operations is, more often than not, deeply discouraging. If the focus on neglect and inadequate policy tools provides an incomplete and overly simplistic explanation for the difficulties encountered, it raises the obvious question of what the underlying sources of the UN’s uneven record are. The answer lies in the very features that, taken together, define the essence of the UN as an international organisation: its intergovernmental and fundamentally state-​centric orientation, its intensely political character and the fragmented and fief-​like nature of its bureaucracy. Answering the question also requires, as with any assessment of UN’s performance in the field of peace and security, a conceptual distinction to be kept in mind between the “UN” as constituted by a grouping of sovereign and legally equal member states and the “UN” as a corporate identity with (at least some) scope for independent action. While political and structural obstacles to effectiveness built into the UN “system” need to be factored into in any assessment of UN’s record, there is one further consideration that must be weighed in the balance: a deeper understanding

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of the underlying political economy of conflict (as the chapters in the present volume in their different ways serve to demonstrate) generates questions of appropriate policy response that are not only politically and conceptually difficult, but also frequently morally complex, involving trade-​offs and policy dilemmas the answers to which are rarely simple or straightforward.

Politics among Member States The UN is an intergovernmental body whose member states have frequently acted in ways that quite deliberately limit both the scope and ability of UN peace operations to address issues of political economy, especially those relating to the transnational linkages underlying modern war economies. In justifying such actions, member states have invoked both commitment to principle –​that is, the perceived need to uphold the sanctity of sovereignty and its corollary the rule of non-​interference in the internal affair of states –​and the duty of governments to protect what is in the “national interest”, even though the interests protected have in reality often been those of a much more narrowly defined collection of individuals and entities, from businesses and criminal organisations to family members, ethnic kin and sundry networks of patronage and privilege. The early work of PoE looking into the war economies in the DRC and the response of member states to its findings illustrate the scale of the problem and also the fundamentally political nature of obstacles to effective action: The conflict in eastern DRC immediately implicates Rwanda, Burundi, Uganda but also Kenya, India, China, Tanzania, Dubai, and Europe. All of Congo’s neighbours have economic interests in the country, particularly Zambia, Zimbabwe, Angola, Tanzania. Foreign investment has come from everywhere, including the US, China, Canada, Europe, and South Africa. The public backlash that followed the reports of the various expert groups underscored these interests and made it clear that further international action would be difficult if not impossible.67 The list of countries with an interest in the DRC conflict points to the importance not only of neighbours and regional players, but also global economic powerhouses, and helps explain why the lack of enforcement by regional states has been, in Charles Cater’s assessment, such a “significant obstacle” to the implementation of arms embargos and natural resource sanctions.68 Equally if not more important, however, have been developments within the Security Council, where the steady deterioration of political relations among the permanent five members of the Council (P5) has sharply reduced the prospects for Council-​initiated, let alone Council-​led, action to stem the challenges posed by the political economy of on-​going civil wars where UN peace operations are deployed. Boutellis’ observation with regard to Mali, noting how “sensitive political economy and governance root causes of the crisis were in the end glossed over by

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the Security Council”, certainly does not apply to that conflict alone.69 Evidence of the impact of deteriorating relations among the P5 is most evident, unsurprisingly, in relation to the use of sanctions and the role of PoEs, where Russia’s and China’s objections to applying sanctions have intensified markedly in recent years. The failure of the Security Council to act decisively on panel recommendations is, of course, hardly a new problem, nor is the fraught nature of Council politics.70 But the situation is plainly getting worse, with Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 and the geostrategic fallout of the war since then having now greatly added to an intensification of geopolitical tensions and great power rivalry. Indeed, in Cater’s view, it is not clear whether a recent string of Russian actions challenging the independence of PoEs is designed to ensure that “more Russian nationals [are] hired as experts, or whether this represents a fundamental threat to the functioning and viability of UN sanctions as a whole”.71

Bureaucratic Fragmentation and the Siloing of Politics It is a paradox that many of the UN missions examined in this volume, especially those deployed for extended periods of time, have not in fact (or certainly not always) been short of the kind of expertise –​political, economic, anthropological, and cultural –​required to generate deep contextual knowledge of the workings of political economy within their respective mission areas. UNMISS employed “some of the most knowledgeable analysts in South Sudan, many of whom had spent decades engaging with community actors”72. UNAMA’s political affairs teams were acutely knowledgeable of Afghanistan, and in Mali MINUSMA “benefited from unprecedented information collection and analysis capabilities for a UN peacekeeping operation”.73 Why then, one might well ask, has such knowledge rarely been translated into more effective operational responses? While political factors provide an important part of the answer here too, long-​ standing institutional constraints have also served to impede the effectiveness of UN policy responses. There are two closely connected aspects to this that merit special mention. The first relate to the inevitable consequences that flow from the horizontally segmented nature of the UN “system”, the high degree of autonomy enjoyed by agencies and units within it, and its in-​built “resistance to integrative reform”.74 Overcoming the resulting dysfunctions generated by a decentralised and fragmented system continues to depend on the vagaries of personal relationships and skill at improvisation. While this often produces commendable results, it does not prevent recurring challenges from falling between bureaucratic cracks and evading more coherent and systematic attention.75 Thus, for all the insights and valuable material generated by PoEs since the mid-​1990s, the UN still “has neither a system for the internal management of the information generated by PoEs nor a coherent approach to the external dissemination of their findings”.76 More generally, as Druet observes, internal “fragmentation across different parts of the UN system, including different constituent parts of peace operations themselves, has resulted in

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large bodies of information and analysis that are inconsistently structured and serve different purposes”.77 The second aspect bears more directly on the conduct of UN operations, its ability to influence the political economy of conflict and, in particular, to identify political strategies geared towards supporting more durable and inclusive peace. This is what Jackson aptly describes as the “siloing of politics” within UN bureaucratic structures, a tendency evident not only at headquarters but also, critically, within UN missions themselves. Within the secretariat in New York the tendency has long been reflected in the rivalry and tensions, often bitter and personal, between the Department of Peacekeeping Operations (DPKO) and the Department Political Affairs (DPA), whose “rival mindsets”78 have not, sadly, been overcome by the restructuring of UN’s peace and security pillar under António Guterres, which in 2017 saw the creation of two new departments: one for Political and Peacebuilding Affairs and one for Peace Operations.79 Inside missions, a similar bifurcation around civil and political affairs has not only served to undermine cohesion but also, more fatefully, impeded efforts to grapple meaningfully with the fundamentally political nature of UN’s tasks and the politics at the heart of the conflicts which peacekeepers are deployed to mitigate and help overcome in the first instance. The source of the problem is well illustrated by Jackson’s assessment of UNAMA: UNAMA’s substantive work was organized around two pillars. One was dedicated to political affairs, which contained political affairs staff at the national and sub-​national levels. The other pillar included almost everything else: governance and civil affairs, humanitarian affairs, aid effectiveness, development and so on. Even in provincial offices, these pillars functioned in silos. Political affairs teams were typically large and, particularly among national staff, deeply knowledgeable. In addition to daily and weekly reporting, they produced thematic reports on areas they identified as critical to political understanding. But … the purpose of all of this analysis was not clear.80 These problems find strong echoes in other UN peace operations and provide a major part of the explanation for the difficulties encountered in grappling with the political economy of conflict.

Political, Analytical and Moral Complexities There is a final reason why the UN’s record has produced such uneven and ambiguous results. Political economy analysis of the kind undertaken in this book generates questions that are analytically and politically difficult, and which, not infrequently, also raise morally complex policy dilemmas. The point is well illustrated by the challenges posed by the activities of organised criminal groups and institutionalised corruption in zones of UN operational involvement. As Vorrath notes, fashioning “adequate responses” to organised crime groups –​in

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theory, quintessential “spoilers” in peace processes –​raises issues of prioritisation and sequencing that are far from clear-​cut: If criminal groups and their business help to sustain the population under precarious conditions or help to secure a degree of stability in a fragile peace settlement, targeting them might be counter-​productive. On the other hand, ignoring [organized crime] in the short term may enable criminal agendas to become nested in state structures during post-​war transitions.81 Policies aimed at targeting illicit economies more broadly –​especially where these are labour-​intensive (e.g. drug cultivation, illegal mining and logging) offering income-​generating opportunities to marginalised and impoverished rural communities –​pose similar dilemmas, acutely so where there are few or no viable alternative livelihood strategies available, and where the effective regulation of illegal markets by armed groups has bought those very groups’ social capital and a measure of local legitimacy. Examples range from efforts to curb artisanal mining in eastern DRC to initiatives targeting drug production in countries like Afghanistan and Colombia. Confronting criminal groups and illicit economies is far from the only area where difficult judgements about policy choices must be made by UN missions. And, crucially, what complicates those judgements is that element of continuity in UN operations stressed earlier: the consent-​based nature of their deployment and operations. “All missions”, as Druet rightly emphasises, must balance the need to address causes and consequences of conflict that originate with the government, such as corruption and human rights abuses, and the need to maintain the host government’s consent for the mission’s presence and a working relationship with government authorities that will allow it to influence the peace process in other areas.82 The difficulties of such balancing acts are exemplified by the long and painful history of relations between MONUSCO and the Armed Forces of the Democratic Republic of Congo (FADRC), the latter, by the UN’s own admission, still a major source of insecurity and a persistent threat to civilians.83 In South Sudan, the militarisation of governance has meant that any SSR initiative seeking “to introduce transparency, accountability and effective civilian oversight will likely face well-​armed elite opposition with destabilizing consequences”.84 The resulting tension between the requirements of short-​term stabilisation and long-​term structural change is one that has confronted many other peace operations tasked with capacity-​building in the security and rule-​of-​law sector. These and other examples explored in the following pages should all induce caution and humility about what UN peace operations can achieve during deployments that are, by definition, time-​limited and exceptional. Such an attitude should include an acceptance of the possibility that there are circumstances

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in which the UN’s presence can do more harm than good. The lens of political economy can assist in recognising when those circumstances obtain. In the end perhaps the most important role played by outsiders lies in identifying and engaging with “the political dynamics that shape post-​conflict societies and try to provide a framework that will help empower in a systemic way those groups who have a genuine interest in real change”.85 Doing this, as Guéhenno perceptively underlines, “is an utterly political undertaking which requires a deep understanding of the political economy of conflict”.86

Notes 1 This focus on civil war and internal conflict becomes particularly evident if one looks more closely at the overall distribution of personnel and resources across missions. Out of 87,000 personnel currently (2022) serving under the UN flag, some 70,000 are stationed in four countries torn by internal conflict: DRC, Mali, South Sudan and CAR. All four countries figure prominently in the pages of this book. 2 For the classic distinction between these two UNs, see Inis Claude, Jr., “Peace and Security: Prospective Roles for the Two United Nations”, Global Governance, vol. 2, no. 3, 1996. 3 Peter A. Gourevitch, “Political Economy”, in Joel Krieger (ed.), The Oxford Companion to Politics of the World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993), p. 716. 4 Ibid., p. 716. 5 For representative examples, see the language of the resolutions authorising the establishment of UN peace operations in Mali and CAR. S/​RES/​2100, 25 April 2013, UN Document; S/​RES/​2149, 10 April 2014, UN Document. 6 Richard Gowan and Stephen Steadman, “The International Regime for Treating Civil War, 1988–​2017,” Daedalus, vol. 147, no. 1, Winter 2018. 7 Ashley Jackson, “UNAMA amidst Counter-​Terror and Counterinsurgency –​No peace left to keep”, p. 220. 8 Adam Day, “The Unbuilding of a State –​UNMISS’s role in the lead up to South Sudan’s civil war”, p. 208. 9 On this, see, in particular, David Keen,“The Political Economy of War”, in Frances Stewart and Valpy Fitzgerald (eds.), War and Underdevelopment: The Economic and Social Consequence of Conflict (Oxford: OUP, 2000). For ethnographic perspectives stressing the “intertwined nature of war and peace”, see also Paul Richards (ed.), No Peace, No War –​An Anthropology of Contemporary Armed Conflicts (Athens, OH: Ohio University Press, 2005). 10 See Timothy Raeymaekers, Ken Menkhaus and Koen Vlassenroot, “State and Non-​State Regulations in African Protracted Crises: Governance without Government?”, Afrika Focus, vol. 21, no. 2, 2008. 11 See Ken Menkhaus, “State Failure and Ungoverned Space”, in Mats Berdal and Achim Wennmann (eds.), EndingWar, Consolidating Peace: Economic Perspectives (London: Routledge for IISS, 2010), pp.181–​186. 12 For a detailed study of the political economy that has evolved around the proliferation of checkpoints along trade routes in South Sudan over the past decade, see Peer Schouten, Ken Matthysen and Thomas Muller, “Checkpoint economy: the political economy of checkpoints in South Sudan, ten years after independence”, IPIS, December 2021 https://​ipisr​esea​rch.be/​wp-​cont​ent/​uplo​ads/​2021/​12/​2021-​South-​Sudan-​Che​ckpo​ int-​Econ​omy-​Full-​Rep​ort.pdf

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13 Jean-​Marie Guéhenno, “The Importance of Political Economy”, p. 30. 14 Ibid., p. 31. 15 Ken Menkhaus and Paul Williams, “The Political Economy of Peace Operations in Somalia”, p. 281. 16 “DRC: Briefing and Consultations”, 28 March 2022, Security Council Report, www. securi​tyco​unci​lrep​ort.org/​what​sinb​lue/​2022/​03/​dem​ocra​tic-​repub​lic-​of-​the-​congo-​ brief​ing-​and-​consul​tati​ons-​5.php; MONUSCO, Report of the Secretary-​ General, 1 December 2020, S/​2021/​987, UN Document. 17 Tatiana Carayannis and Michael Kavanagh, “The UN and the Logic of Congo’s Political Economy –​Politics is Wealth, Wealth is Power”, p. 201. 18 “Final Report of Group of Experts on the Democratic Republic of the Congo,” 2 June 2020, S/​2020/​482, UN Document. 19 Boutellis, “MINUSMA and the Political Economy of Mali’s Crises”, p. 260. 20 Menkhaus, Raeymaekers and Vlassenroot, “State and Non-​State Regulations in African Protracted Crises”, p. 7. 21 On this, see Ken Menkhaus, “State Failure, State-​building, and Prospects of a ‘Functional Failed State’ in Somalia”, The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, vol. 651, no. 1, 2014. See also “Neither War nor Peace in the DRC: Profiting and Coping amid Violence and Disorder”, Miles Larmer, et al (eds.), Review of African Political Economy, vol. 40, no. 135, 2013, and Ashley Jackson and Ramatullah Amiri, “Insurgent Bureaucracy: How Taliban Makes Policy”, November 2019, USIP. For the persistence and functions of “rebel networks” after the formal end of civil war in Liberia, see also the thoughtful and illuminating study by Mariam Bjarnesen, Repurposed Rebels –​Postwar rebel Networks in Liberia (Athens, GA: Georgia University Press, 2020). 22 See the discussion below and ­chapters 4, 7 and 15 in the present volume. 23 David Hudson and Adrian Leftwich, “From Political Economy to Political Analysis”, Research Paper 25, June 2014, Development Leadership Programme, www.dlp​rog. org/​publi​cati​ons/​resea​rch-​pap​ers/​from-​politi​cal-​econ​omy-​to-​politi​cal-​analy​sis, p. 9. It should be added that this conception of political economy is far from uncommon. Indeed,Weingast and Wittman introduce The Oxford Handbook Political Economy with the definition of political economy as the “methodology of economics applied to political behaviour and institutions.” Barry R. Weingast and Donald A.Wittman, “The Reach of Political Economy”, in Barry R. Weingast and Donald A.Wittman (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Political Economy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), p. 3. 24 Hudson and Leftwich, “From Political Economy to Political Analysis”, p. 6. 25 On the “rather narrow and reductionist analysis of interests and incentives of elites” that underpins some of the political economy inspired work on conflict, see also the thoughtful review of the relevant literature by Patrick Meehan, “What are the key factors that affect the securing and sustaining of an initial deal to reduce levels of armed conflict? –​Literature Review”, Stabilisation Unit, August 2018, https://​ass​ets.pub​lish​ing. serv​ice.gov.uk/​gov​ernm​ent/​uplo​ads/​sys​tem/​uplo​ads/​atta​chme​nt_​d​ata/​file/​766​069/​ Elite_​Bargains_​and_​Politi​cal_​Deal​s_​Li​tera​ture​_​Rev​iew.pdf 26 This also applies to those cases where the role of economic agendas and motives is particularly well documented. As Guéhenno points out, Rwanda and Uganda have been deeply implicated in exploiting the mineral wealth of DRC, but both sides are plainly “looking for much more than the pursuit of wealth, private or national”. Guéhenno, “The Importance of Political Economy”, p. 34. 27 Doss, “Engaging with Political Elites and Non-​State Armed Groups”, p. 67. 28 Carayannis and Kavanagh, “Politics is Wealth, Wealth is Power”, p. 189.

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29 Ibid., p. 189. 30 The term SPM covers a disparate set of civilian missions, including special and personal envoys, advisers and representatives of the secretary-​general, sanctions and monitoring teams, groups and panels, and regional offices, offices in support of political processes, and other missions. In using the term SPM, this volume principally refers to the third category, which has the largest operational footprint in conflict-​affected countries. Due to the degree of difference in function, structure and operational profile, where we refer to expert panels and groups, they are specifically called such. 31 Day, “The Unbuilding of a State”, p. 199. 32 “Uniting Our Strengths for Peace –​Politics, Partnerships and People”, Report of the High-​Level Independent Panel on United Nations Operations (HIPPO)”, 16 June 2015. 33 Menkhaus and Williams, “The Political Economy of Peace Operations in. Somalia”, p. 280. 34 Ibid., p. 281. 35 S/​RES/​2567 (2021), UNMISS, 12 March 2021, para. 17. The wording, taken here from the renewal of UNMISS’s mandate in South Sudan in 2021, is identical to that found in other resolutions authorising or extending peace missions. Executive authority granted to the UN in Timor Leste (UNTAET), Kosovo (UNMIK) and Eastern Slavonia (UNTAES) in the 1990s were time-​limited exceptions to the general rule. 36 Gluck, “Operationalising the ‘Primacy of Politics’ in UN Peace Operations”, p. 46. 37 The implications of operating in such environments for UN missions are the central theme of Kenny Gluck’s contribution to this book, and draw on his own work for the UN in CAR, South Sudan,Yemen and Sudan. For the political economy of violence in post-​war settings and during war-​to-​peace transitions, see also Mats Berdal, “Reflections on Post-​War Violence and Peacebuilding”, in Astri Suhrke and Mats Berdal (eds.), The Peace in between –​Post-​war Violence and Peacebuilding (London: Routledge, 2012). 38 “Notes on UNMISS Strategy and South Sudan’s Post-​ Conflict Transition”, Kenny Gluck, 1 September 2020, UNMISS, paragraph 11. 39 Carayannis and Kavanagh, “Politics is Wealth, Wealth is Politics”, p. 190. 40 Frederick Robarts, “Motivations for Joining Armed Groups: The Case of Forces Républicaines Fédéralistes (FRF) in Eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (2006-​ 2011)”, MA Dissertation, King’s College London, 2013. 41 Guéhenno, “The Importance of Political Economy”, p. 34. 42 Doss, “Engaging with Political Elites and Non-​State Armed Groups” p. 68. 43 Day, “The Unbuilding of a State”, p. 200. 44 Boutellis, “MINUSMA and the Political Economy of Mali’s Crises”, p. 283. 45 See Menkhaus, Raeymaekers and Vlassenroot, “State and Non-​State Regulations in African Protracted Crises”, pp. 9–​14. 46 Gluck, “Operationalising the ‘Primacy of Politics’ ”, p. 56. 47 Matthew LeRiche, “Conflict Governance: The SPLA, Factionalism, and Peacemaking”, in Steven C. Roach and Derrick K. Hudson (eds.), The Challenge of Governance in South Sudan (Routledge: London, 2019), p. 65. 48 Carayannis and Kavanagh “Politics is Wealth, Wealth is Power”, p. 175. 49 See Mats Berdal and David Ucko (eds.), Reintegrating Armed Groups after Conflict: Politics, Violence, and Transition (London: Routledge, 2009). 50 Menkhaus and Williams,“The Political Economy of Peace Operations in Somalia”, p. 281. 51 Gluck, “Operationalising the ‘Primacy of Politics’ ”, p. 60. 52 Ibid., p. 51. 53 Ibid., p. 61.

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54 Ian Martin, All Necessary Means? The United Nations and International Intervention in Libya, (London: Hurst & Co, 2022), p. 156. 55 Doss, “Engaging with Political Elites and Non-​State Armed Groups”, p. 80. Of his time in Cote d’Ivoire, Doss has written elsewhere: “I don’t think we understood that we were grappling with the reordering of the patronage state” following the reign of Felix Houphouet-​Boigny, in power from independence in 1960 until his death in 1993. See Alan Doss, A Peacekeeper in Africa: Learning from UN Interventions in Other People’s Wars (Boulder and London: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2020), p. 93. 56 Carayannis and Kavanagh “Politics is Wealth, Wealth is Power”, p. 191. 57 Boutellis, “MINUSMA and the Political Economy of Mali’s Crisis’, p. 272. For MINUSMA’s unprecedented information-​gathering and processing assets, see Sebastiaan Rietjens and Erik De Waard, “UN Peacekeeping Intelligence: The ASIFU Experiment”, International Journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence, vol. 30, no. 2, July 2017. 58 Exploring those links was the mandate given to the first “Panel of Experts on the Illegal Exploitation of Natural Resources and other forms of Wealth in the DRC”, also known as the “Kassem Panel” set up in 2000. Administered by the DPKO, it recommended sanctions be imposed by the Council on Congolese and foreign armed groups active in the DRC. “Presidential Statement on the DRC”, S/​PRST/​2000/​20, 2 June 2000, UN Document. Alix J. Boucher and Victoria K. Holt, “Targeting Spoilers: The Role of United Nations Panels of Experts”, The Henry Stimson Center, Report No. 64, 2009, pp. 31–​34. 59 On the role of sanctions committees and the evolving practice of using of experts by the Council, see Lorraine Sievers and Sam Daws, The Procedure of the UN Security Council, Fourth Edition (Oxford: OUP, 2014), pp. 544–​545. See also chapters by Judith Vorrath and by Charles Cater in this volume. 60 Dirk Druet, “Commodities, Commanders and Corruption”, p. 132. 61 Ibid., p. 132. 62 For an authoritative assessment of the work of PoEs and the increased use of listing criteria, see Charles Cater in this volume. For the contribution of PoEs in relation to the political economy of conflict in the DRC, CAR and Mali in particular, see Judith Vorrath’s chapter in this volume. 63 For assessment of NRS and GEMAP, see chapters by Doss, Mitton and Guéhenno. See also the discussion in Mats Berdal and David Keen, “The Political Economy of Protectorates and ‘Post-​Conflict’ Interventions”, in James Mayall and Ricardo Soares de Oliveira (eds.), The New Protectorates –​International Tutelage and the Making of Liberal States (London: Hurst & Co, 2011), pp. 230–​233. 64 Cater, “UN Sanctions and Panels of Experts”, p. 97. Alan Doss also sounds a note of caution, pointing to the “myriad of ways that traffickers can adjust their modus operandi to avoid detection and penalties.” Doss, “Engaging with Political Elites and Non-​State Armed Groups”, p. 76. 65 The effect of the sanctions –​an early case of secondary sanctions that saw an arms embargo, travel bans and a diamonds exports ban targeting Liberia for its support of the RUF in Sierra Leone was to severely weaken RUF’s ability to prosecute the war. See UN Security Council Resolution 1343, 7 March 2001, and Mitton’s chapter in this volume. 66 See Gluck, “Operationalising the ‘Primacy of Politics’ ”, pp. 51–53. See also Head of UNMISS, “End of Assignment Report”, April 2021, UNMISS; “Assessing the Effectiveness of the UN Mission in South Sudan”, Report No.2/​2019, Effectiveness of Peace Operations Network (EPON), 2019, NUPI; Boutellis, “MINUSMA and the Political Economy of Mali’s Crisis”, pp. 266–267. 67 Carayannis and Kavanagh, “Politics is Wealth, Wealth is Power”, p. 190.

The Political Economy of Civil War and UN Peace Operations  23

68 Cater, “UN Sanctions and Panels of Experts”, p. 99. 69 Boutellis, “The Political Economy of Mali’s Crisis”, p. 263. 70 Karen Ballentine, “Peace before Profit: The Challenges of Governance”, in Karen Ballentine and Heiko Nitzschke (eds.), Profiting from Peace –​Managing the Resource Dimensions of Civil War (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2005), pp. 447–​8. 71 Cater, “UN Sanctions and Panels of Experts”, p. 101. 72 Day, “The Unbuilding of a State”, p. 205. 73 Jackson, “No Peace left to Keep”, p. 231; Boutellis, “The Political Economy of Mali’s Crisis”, p. 264. 74 Edward C. Luck, “Reforming the United Nations: Lessons from a History in Progress”, International Relations Studies and the UN Occasional Paper, 2003, no.1, ACUNS, p. 19. 75 One is reminded of Edward Luck’s astute observation that “for all the UN’s substantive dynamism…one characteristic has endured: what it achieves is despite, not because of, its administrative procedures, personnel policies, fiscal rules and management structure.” Edward C. Luck, Mixed Messages –​American Politics and International Organisation, 1919-​ 1999 (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution Press, 1999), p. 196. 76 Cater, “UN Sanctions and Panels of Experts”, p. 101. 77 Druet, “Commodities, Commanders, and Corruption,” p. 132. 78 On this, see Ian Martin, “Lessons from the High-​Level Panel’s 2015 Review for the Future of UN Peace Operations”, 30 September 2020, IPI Global Observatory, https://​ thegl​obal​obse​r vat​ory.org/​2020/​09/​les​sos-​from-​hippo-​2015-​rev​iew-​for-​fut​ure-​peace-​ ope​rati​ons. 79 “Reform of Peace and Security Pillar,” United Nations, ND, https://​ref​orm.un.org/​ news/​peace-​and-​secur​ity-​pil​lar.] On the historically fraught relationship between the DPKO and DPA, “DPKO-​DPA Interface –​Note to the Deputy-​Secretary General (B Miyet, DPKO)”, 22 February 2000, UN Document on file with author. 80 Jackson, “No peace left to keep (Draft, 21 March 2022)”, pp. 15–16. On the bifurcation of civil and political affairs within missions, see also Day,“ The Unbuilding of a State”, p. 207. 81 Vorrath, “Confronting Illicit Economies”, p. 155. For an excellent discussion of the issues and challenges involved in confronting criminal agendas, see also Vanda Felbab-​Brown, “The Hellish Road to Good Intentions”, United Nations University Centre for Policy Research, Crime-​Conflict Nexus Series: No 7, April 2017, p. 9. 82 Druet, “Commodities, Commanders, and Corruption”, p. 142. 83 According to UN reporting in 2021, some 45 per cent of documented human rights violations in the country were perpetrated by state officials, primarily by members of the FADRC and the Congolese National Police. See “Human Rights Situation and the Activities of the United Nations Joint Human Rights Office in the Democratic Republic of the Congo”, A/​HRC/​48/​47, 15 July 2021, UN Document. 84 “Notes on UNMISS Strategy”, paragraph 83. 85 Guéhenno, “The Importance of Political Economy”, p. 39. 86 Ibid., p. 39.

Bibliography Ballentine, Karen, “Peace before Profit: The Challenges of Governance”, in Karen Ballentine and Heiko Nitzschke (eds.), Profiting from Peace –​Managing the Resource Dimensions of Civil War (Boulder, Co: Lynne Rienner, 2005), pp. 447–​484.

24  Mats Berdal and Jake Sherman

Berdal, Mats, “Reflections on Post-​ War Violence and Peacebuilding”, in Astri Suhrke and Mats Berdal (eds.), The Peace in between –​Post-​ war Violence and Peacebuilding (London: Routledge, 2012), 309–​327. Berdal, Mats and David Keen, “The Political Economy of Protectorates and ‘Post-​Conflict’ Interventions”, in James Mayall and Ricardo Soares de Oliveira (eds.), The New Protectorates –​International Tutelage and the Making of Liberal States (London: Hurst & Co, 2011), pp. 221–​239. Berdal, Mats and David Ucko (eds.), Reintegrating Armed Groups after Conflict: Politics,Violence, and Transition (London: Routledge, 2009). Boucher, Alix J. and Victoria K. Holt, “Targeting Spoilers: The Role of United Nations Panels of Experts”, The Henry Stimson Center, Report No. 64, 2009. Claude Jr., Inis, “Peace and Security: Prospective Roles for the Two United Nations”, Global Governance, vol. 2, no. 3, 1996, pp. 289–​298. Doss, Alan, A Peacekeeper in Africa: Learning from UN Interventions in Other People’s Wars, (Boulder, Co: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2020). Felbab-​Brown, Vanda, “The Hellish Road to Good Intentions”, United Nations University Centre for Policy Research, Crime-​Conflict Nexus Series: No 7, April 2017. Gourevitch, Peter A., “Political Economy”, in Joel Krieger, (ed.), The Oxford Companion to Politics of the World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993), pp. 715–​719. Gowan, Richard and Stephen Steadman, “The International Regime for Treating Civil War, 1988–​2017”, Daedalus, vol. 147, no.1, Winter 2018, pp. 171–​184. Hudson, David and Adrian Leftwich, “From Political Economy to Political Analysis”, Research Paper 25, June 2014, Development Leadership Programme, www.dlp​rog.org/​ publi​cati​ons/​resea​rch-​pap​ers/​from-​politi​cal-​econ​omy-​to-​politi​cal-​analy​sis Jackson, Ashley and Ramatullah Amiri, “Insurgent Bureaucracy: How Taliban Makes Policy”, USIP, November 2019. Keen, David, “The Political Economy of War”, in Frances Stewart and Valpy Fitzgerald (eds.), War and Underdevelopment:The Economic and Social Consequence of Conflict (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), pp. 39–​69. Larmer, Miles et al. (eds.), Special Issue: “Neither War nor Peace in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC): Profiting and Coping Amid Violence and Disorder”, Review of African Political Economy, vol. 40, no. 135, 2013, pp. 1–​12. LeRiche, Matthew, “Conflict Governance: The SPLA, Factionalism, and Peacemaking”, in Steven C. Roach and Derrick K. Hudson (eds.), The Challenge of Governance in South Sudan (Routledge: London, 2019), pp. 31–​70. Luck, Edward C., Mixed Messages –​American Politics and International Organisation, 1919-​1999 (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution Press, 1999). Luck, Edward C., “Reforming the United Nations: Lessons from a History in Progress”, International Relations Studies and the UN Occasional Paper, 2003, no.1, ACUNS, 2003. Martin, Ian, All Necessary Means? The United Nations and International Intervention in Libya, (London: Hurst & Co, 2022). Martin, Ian, “Lessons from the High-​Level Panel’s 2015 Review for the Future of UN Peace Operations”, 30 September 2020, IPI Global Observatory, https://​thegl​obal​obse​rvat​ory. org/​2020/​09/​les​sos-​from-​hippo-​2015-​rev​iew-​for-​fut​ure-​peace-​ope​rati​ons/​ Meehan, Patrick, “What Are the Key Factors That Affect the Securing and Sustaining of an Initial Deal to Reduce Levels of Armed Conflict? –​Literature Review”, Stabilisation Unit, August 2018, https://​ass​ets.pub​lish​ing.serv​ice.gov.uk/​gov​ernm​ent/​uplo​ads/​sys​ tem/​uplo​ads/​atta​chme​nt_​d​ata/​file/​766​069/​Elite_​Bargains_​and_​Politi​cal_​Deal​s_​Li​tera ​ ture​_​Rev​iew.pdf

The Political Economy of Civil War and UN Peace Operations  25

Menkhaus, Ken, “Somalia’s 20-​Year Experiment in Hybrid Government”, World Politics Review, 8 August 2012, pp. 3–​7. Menkhaus, Ken,“State Failure and Ungoverned Space”, in Mats Berdal and Achim Wennmann (eds.), Ending War, Consolidating Peace: Economic Perspectives (London: Routledge for IISS, 2010), 171–​189. Norwegian Institute for International Affairs (NUPI), “Assessing the Effectiveness of the UN Mission in South Sudan”, Report No.2/​2019, Effectiveness of Peace Operations Network (EPON), 2019. Raeymaekers, Timothy, Ken Menkhaus and Koen Vlassenroot, “State and Non-​ State Regulations in African Protracted Crises: Governance without Government?”, Afrika Focus, vol. 21, no. 2, 2008, pp. 7–​21. Richards, Paul (ed.), No Peace, No War –​An Anthropology of Contemporary Armed Conflicts (Athens, OH: Ohio University Press, 2005). Rietjens, Sebastiaan and Erik De Waard, “UN Peacekeeping Intelligence: The ASIFU Experiment”, International Journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence, vol. 30, no. 2, July 2017, pp. 532–​556. Robarts, Frederick, “Motivations for Joining Armed Groups: The Case of Forces Républicaines Fédéralistes (FRF) in Eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (2006-​ 2011)”, MA Dissertation, King’s College London, 2103. Schouten, Peer, Ken Matthysen and Thomas Muller, “Checkpoint Economy: The Political Economy of Checkpoints in South Sudan,Ten Years after Independence”, IPIS, December 2021 https://​ipisr​esea​rch.be/​wp-​cont​ent/​uplo​ads/​2021/​12/​2021-​South-​Sudan-​Che​ ckpo​int-​Econ​omy-​Full-​Rep​ort.pdf Security Council Report, “DRC: Briefing and Consultations”, 28 March 2022, www.securi​ tyco​unci​lrep​ort.org/​what​sinb​lue/​2022/​03/​dem​ocra​tic-​repub​lic-​of-​the-​congo-​brief​ing-​ and-​consul​tati​ons-​5.php Sievers, Lorraine and Sam Daws, The Procedure of the UN Security Council, Fourth Edition (Oxford: OUP, 2014). United Nations, “Reform of Peace and Security Pillar”, United Nations, ND https://​ref​ orm.un.org/​news/​peace-​and-​secur​ity-​pil​lar United Nations, A/​HRC/​48/​47, Human Rights Situation and the Activities of the United Nations Joint Human Rights Office in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, 15 July 2021. United Nations, S/​ 2021/​ 987, Report of the Secretary-​ General on MONUSCO, 1 December 2020. United Nations, S/​PRST/​2000/​20, “Presidential Statement on the DRC”, 2 June 2000. United Nations, S/​RES/​1334, Security Council Resolution 1334, 7 March 2001. United Nations, S/​RES/​2100, Security Council Resolution 2100, 25 April 2013. United Nations, S/​RES/​2149, Security Council Resolution 2149, 10 April 2014. United Nations, S/​RES/​2567, Security Council Resolution 2567, 12 March 2021.UNMISS, End of Assignment Report, April 2021. UNMISS, Notes on UNMISS Strategy and South Sudan’s Post-​Conflict Transition (Kenny Gluck) 1 September 2020. Weingast, Barry R. and Donald A. Wittman, “The Reach of Political Economy”, in Barry R. Weingast and Donald A. Wittman (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Political Economy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), pp. 3–​25.

PART I

Conceptual and Thematic Issues

2 THE IMPORTANCE OF POLITICAL ECONOMY Jean-​Marie Guéhenno

Did the International Community fail? The answer to this question seems obvious when one looks at Afghanistan, whose collapse under a Taliban offensive is as emblematic of the failures of the first two decades of the 21st century as Rwanda and Srebrenica were of the last decade of the 20th century. But the question that is posed today is much harder to answer than the question that was posed twenty years ago. What is at stake today is a much broader issue than the utility of force discussed by Rupert Smith when he reflected on the Yugoslav wars.1 What needs to be analysed is the political economy of conflict, the forces that keep the world at peace or on the contrary can pull it apart. This chapter argues that while the impact of economic forces has been underestimated and needs to be better understood, the economic dynamics of conflict have to be integrated in a multilayered analysis that takes into consideration the interaction between political and economic motivations. That in turn raises the question of the impact of humanitarian aid and peace operations on the political economy of conflict. This should lead to a rethinking of how the United Nations addresses peace operations, taking into consideration the unintended impact they have on the political economy of conflict, and the political economy of rivalries and competition between member states. In the end, in a world increasingly shaped by transnational forces, peace operations need to be part of a broader strategy that addresses the transnational context. How effective can such a strategy be in an increasingly divided world remains an open question.

Recognising the Impact of Economic Forces Waging war, even the poor man’s war, requires money, and war inevitably changes the way money is earned and distributed. These two simple facts have often been ignored and yet they often determine the shape and duration of a conflict. DOI: 10.4324/9781003248637-3

30  Jean-Marie Guéhenno

There are cases where that dimension is easily identified. Much has been written on the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), and how various armed groups support themselves through predation, following a model that has much in common with the kind of protection racket of the mafia. They collect rent through checkpoints or through direct control of illicit mining, and international non-​governmental organisations (NGOs) have had some success in pushing for legislation, in particular in the United States, that tries to marginalise such criminal activities by requiring a reliable paper trail for minerals reaching the international market place. Major international mining companies also like to stress that officially sanctioned mining2 helps build up state capacities and restore the rule of law because they are, through royalties and taxes, the first source of revenue of the state. That however assumes that the state itself is not a kleptocratic state. This gradual centralisation of natural resources rent should in principle reduce conflict, as the multiple local competitions are supposed to be extinguished by the growing control of state institutions. It fits with a Weberian view of the state that consolidates its monopoly on the legitimate use of force by extending its monopoly on the legitimate collection of taxes. It however ignores the fact that the two systems can coexist indefinitely, and more fundamentally, that a state which has a monopoly on a rent, can exacerbate competition for the control of that rent. A state that becomes more efficient at collecting revenues can remain kleptocratic in the way it spends them. That is a problem that has plagued the DRC and pits Kinshasa against the provinces. The constitutional provision that 40% of the revenues should go back to the provinces has never been implemented, and actually could not be implemented because in many provinces the administrative capacity is not sufficiently developed. At the same time, the international companies that have major investments in the country cannot ignore the local security conditions, and they are inevitably caught between the politics of the capital and the politics of the locations where they have investments. The situation is neither the situation of a country deprived of natural resources, nor the situation of a rentier state, where capturing the state is exclusively about capturing the rent.The DRC is a good introduction to the infinite variations and nuances of the political economy of conflict because it combines features that can be found in isolation in various conflict situations. At one end of the spectrum is a pure rentier state like Libya, where the royalties derived from the oil industry are the only resource of the state. Oil revenues are at once the prize for which various factions fight and the resource that enables them to fight. In Libya, hundreds of thousands of households from all of the different factions depend on a member of family being on the government payroll as a ghost civil servant or militia member. Cutting them off is a destabilising political act of great consequence; but keeping them on the payroll protects the status quo and keeps the conflict going. At the other end of the spectrum are states which potentially have significant resources –​Afghanistan has impressive unexploited mineral resources –​but presently

The Importance of Political Economy  31

have meagre revenues. Taking over the state will not by itself deliver much wealth. Nevertheless, the state matters, not so much for what it does than for what it does not do. A state which lacks enforcement capacity provides many opportunities for criminal businesses that at best it will not be able to stop, at worst it might encourage in a mutually beneficial deal with shady actors. Afghanistan with its opium cultivation, Sahel countries with various traffics in drugs, weapons and human beings, are all illustrations of that political economy of conflict, which raises fundamental questions for any state-building enterprise. The assumption that various combatant groups are fighting to take over a state and build a peace of which they will be the beneficiaries is wrong.3 In a number of situations, while full war would be detrimental to their interests, full peace might be even worse. An intermediate situation of low-​intensity conflict suits them best, because it keeps the state weak, and that weakness is part and parcel of their business model. Low-​intensity conflict creates a continuum between countries where civil war further weakens an already weak state and countries where strong criminal gangs have carved a space that erodes public institutions to the point that the number of victims of criminal violence compares with the number of victims in full-​fledged civil wars, as we observe in some countries of Latin America. The business model of a weak or dysfunctional state not only benefits criminal enterprises. It has the advantage of scaring away new entrants, who will have no effective judiciary recourse in case of litigation. That keeps the local market closed more efficiently than any protectionist regulations. Haiti, with its problematic land registry and ineffective judiciary is a case in point: the Haitian economy remains controlled by a small business elite shielded from foreign competition. That business elite has no interest in making the state more transparent and efficient. Between the two extremes of a state bolstered by strong revenues and a state starved of revenues and incapable of providing basic public goods such as security and justice, there are many intermediate cases. Many states have limited revenues and do not qualify as rentier states, but even modest public revenues can be significant compared to private wealth, and states, even when they have limited enforcement capacity, are significant actors in any economy. The way they protect private property, regulate economic activities and organise public procurement matters. For instance, in many conflict countries, two systems compete for the attribution of land: a traditional system controlled by local chiefs, which carries all the risks of tradition and ancient privilege, but can in some cases provide a safety-​net to households in need and a modern national system of land registry, which is a pre-​ condition to foreign investment and should in theory be more transparent, but can lead to expropriation of poor families which do not have the right political connections. The competition between and the manipulation of the two systems is the source of innumerable conflicts in which local and national politics are intertwined. The fight for resources is in that respect inseparable from the struggle for political power.

32  Jean-Marie Guéhenno

The Interaction of Political and Economic Motivations in Conflict In a world in which the extraordinary economic expansion of the last thirty years has highlighted the enormous power of money and led to a celebration of individual agency, such considerations often lead to hasty conclusions which overstate individual greed as the primary force behind many contemporary conflicts. The temptation has grown to adopt a reductionist definition of the political economy of conflict, which attributes to greed all major political actions. From an African warlord to the leader of Russia, much speculation is today focused on the accumulation of wealth as a primary driver of conflict, and in that perspective, sanctions become a primary tool of peacemaking, as force was the instrument of choice when the competition was assumed to be a competition for power. Such a reductionist view understates the importance of collective agency in the dynamics of conflict. National, ethnic and religious identities are mobilised as force-​multipliers by political entrepreneurs who need the power of numbers to consolidate their power, and it would be simplistic to analyse such tactics in purely transactional terms that would in the end just benefit the economic interests of political leaders. The reality is more complex, and even the least ideological actors of modern conflict, criminal gangs, are bound by extended family ties. In Russia –​today a major conflict actor whose motivations need to be continuously reassessed –​the trajectory of President Putin provides useful indications on the relationship between the power of money and the power of the state. The unfettered power of oligarchs after the end of the Soviet Union generated a backlash in the Russian population for whom daily life sometimes seemed worse than the soviet past. It provided the foundation for the rise of Putin, who reversed the power-​relationship with the oligarchs, restoring the power of the state and making oligarchs dependent on the state, but not eliminating them. The new balance that was established raises interesting questions on how power builds legitimacy. In Russia, providing a measure of stability after a period of chaos has certainly contributed to the legitimacy of the state, but it can hardly endure without some ideological foundation. With the decline of politics, particularly steep in a country marked by 70 years of ideological indoctrination, Russian nationalism has been promoted as the cement of a society increasingly fractured by growing inequalities. The alliance between oligarchs and the state would not last if it were a purely transactional affair. Nationalism gives it a broader and necessary base. In some ways, the United States is facing a similar challenge: there too, various forces, including inequality, are weakening the social fabric of the country, and politics are increasingly hijacked by billionaires who fund electoral campaigns and benefit from a favourable tax code. And some of them seek to broaden their base of support by encouraging a white nationalism that minimises the growing economic gap that divides rich and poor whites, and emphasises the racial divide and the prospect of white people becoming a minority in the United States.There also, the conquest of power needs more than an alliance of billionaires.

The Importance of Political Economy  33

The political economy of the world’s two nuclear superpowers, as different as they are, is emblematic of a global crisis of politics that matters for the future of conflict: in both cases it can lead to a radical nationalism that may have both domestic and international consequences. In both cases, economic trends would not be so threatening if they were not exploited by political entrepreneurs who mobilise other dimensions to maximise their claim to power. In other countries, the control of the state, and especially its capacity to distribute rent, does not use nationalism but the manipulation of ethnic or religious identities. South Sudan is an example where for decades, operation Lifeline Sudan contributed to creating a culture of dependency vis-​à-​vis foreign aid. Ethnic groups became the inevitable interface with international donors, but they did not build a state. In a country waging war, governance was militarised, leaving the provision of services for the population to international governmental and non-​governmental organisations, while the Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA) focused on the military struggle. Once independence had been achieved, and oil revenues exploded, the budget could be massively increased, but the culture of dependency of the periphery on the centre created at the time of foreign aid did not change, and the military networks through which funds could be disbursed remained in place. As Adam Day notes, cash was not the only currency that ensured loyalty.4 Ethnicity is a key dimension of the patronage networks that have dominated South Sudan since the independence, so that financial dependence and ethnic parentage have been mutually reinforcing each other. Moreover, the very precariousness of state institutions has made informal networks inherited from the military phase of the conflict and based on ethnicity all the more important. The fear of instability reinforces the attraction of traditional structures which are perceived as a valuable reassurance in a time of stress and uncertainty. Ethnic groups and political leaders are in a symbiotic relationship in which the first provide the military muscle necessary to hold on to power, while the second guarantee durable access to the rent collected by the state. The relationship between ethnicity, religion and power is not straightforward. In Syria, the Assad regime, encouraged by western powers, wanted to move away from the state-​controlled economy that was a hallmark of the Ba’ath regime. It allied itself with the Sunni bourgeoisie of the major cities, creating a more favourable environment for private business, with the understanding that the ruling elite would have a share in the returns generated by a more open economy. Meanwhile state subsidies to farmers –​mostly Sunni farmers in the south –​were cut, which made them more vulnerable to external shocks, including the impact of repeated droughts. There was initially not much sectarianism in such policies, except for the economic benefits accruing through corruption to the family of the president, in particular his maternal cousin Rami Makhlouf. Even that family connection had its limits, as competition for diminishing revenues in an economy shrunk by war led to a fallout within the family. It would however be wrong to ignore the sectarian dimension of the conflict, and analyse the Syrian civil war in purely transactional terms. Like the leaders of South Sudan, President Bashar al-Assad needed to have a loyal base. He found it in the Alawites, the poor minority from which he comes

34  Jean-Marie Guéhenno

and which he has mobilised through a combination of factors: the fear of being overrun by the Sunni majority, which represents more than 70% of the population; the distribution of government jobs, especially in the security services, which has the double advantage of consolidating a force loyal to the regime and distributing income to a group that even after decades of Alawite rule remains poorer than many Syrians. This last point illustrates the falsity of simplistic interpretations of the political economy of conflict. In Syria, as in other countries, state capture by a particular group cannot be explained nor legitimised by a single motive, and several parallel dynamics may be mutually reinforcing. These multiple domestic dynamics are themselves connected to broader international and transnational forces that blur the distinction between domestic and international affairs, and replicate at the international level the complexities observed at the national level.Weaponising weakness is a strategy that is not unique to criminal gangs. Increasingly some states see the benefit of keeping neighbours off balance, and consider a permanent situation of fragility across their borders as a contribution to their own security. Russia has for a long time been satisfied with “frozen conflicts” on its periphery, until Ukraine appeared to emerge from its structural weaknesses. Rwanda and Uganda invaded the DRC to ensure their security. They have since withdrawn, but it is only under international pressure that they have desisted from actively supporting proxies that contribute to the weakness of the Congolese state, a weakness that suits them well. Proxies are in a relationship of mutual dependence with their sponsors, and the pursuit of wealth is only one dimension of a relationship in which the reciprocal provision of security is a critical element. Rwanda has obviously benefited from the mineral wealth of the DRC, and Ugandan generals have enriched themselves, making it easier for the respective leaderships of the two countries to consolidate their power, but both sides are looking for much more than the pursuit of wealth, private or national. Security is a key goal. In Libya, in Syria, in Yemen, outside powers, some regional, some with a global reach, have waged proxy wars for security reasons. But the international dimension of the political economy of conflict has an impact on the relationship between external sponsors and proxies. Direct access to resources –​ oil in the case of Libya, taxation and/​or extortion in the case of Syria and Yemen, gives the proxies their own agency and own timetable, and no external actor can claim total control. The most important dimension of the new political economy of conflict, however, is not found in proxy wars, but in the transnational impact that the enormous differences in wealth, especially between countries, have on conflict. Local warlords in the DRC, intermediaries who fund the opium seeds of poor farmers in Afghanistan, traffickers who organise caravans in the Sahel, accumulate power because they have access to levels of wealth that are several orders of magnitude above what their compatriots are used to domestically. By managing to become the interface between extreme poverty and the wealth of the developed world, they reorder the chessboard of power in their home country, disrupting traditional equilibria and generating new competition that can turn into violent conflict.

The Importance of Political Economy  35

In the end, it is simplistic to interpret contemporary conflict through purely economic lenses, but the interplay between power and money can redraw the political map of a country.The injection of money in the midst of poverty can displace the traditional centres of power, capture them, or result in a hybrid situation where traditional centres of power have to compete with new players. Mapping that interaction becomes an essential part of a peacemaking and peacebuilding strategy.

Mapping the Impact of Peace Operations on the Political Economy of Conflict This mapping has rarely been done systematically in the past 20 years, beyond a narrow focus on “conflict minerals”. And it often ignores the economic impact of one of the most important actors in the political economy of conflict, the UN interveners themselves, whether they are humanitarian actors or part of a peace operation, and the constellation of organisations that gravitate around them. There have been studies on the direct impact that the deployment of a peace operation has on the economy of a poor country.5 Suddenly, rental prices can double in the capital city, as internationals deploy, crowding out part of the local population that cannot afford the prices the internationals are willing to pay. More importantly, the job market is turned on its head, as international organisations, governmental and non-​governmental, hire local staff. Teachers can become interpreters, or in the worst of cases, drivers, simply because they get a better pay. Competent government workers are poached, depleting the ranks of civil servants in already fragile institutions. When the mission eventually leaves, the priority of many of the best employees will be to leave with it, and become well-​paid internationals, contributing to a future brain drain. In the security sector, the attraction of international organisations can be especially damaging: subcontracting to local security companies can actually contribute to conflict, as many of those companies are extensions of local power brokers who fund their operations through the provision of security services. The enormous imbalance between the relative wealth of the interveners and in some cases the extreme poverty of the host country has one particularly horrible consequence: it creates a favourable environment for sexual exploitation, as some international workers and peacekeepers abuse their power, and take advantage of the dire situation in which local families –​often broken by war and violence –​find themselves, trafficking in girls and sometimes boys. Only the strictest discipline can prevent that dynamics from taking hold, but discipline is difficult to enforce in an environment of war where the abusers are not constrained by their normal social structures and where the victims have little or no effective recourse. Beyond this direct and awful impact, which is sadly emblematic of everything that is wrong in international interventions, an international presence leads to a significant influx of money in the country where it is deployed. The impact of that flow of money can be as substantial as any other flow of money being injected in a

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poor country. In the same way that centres of power position themselves to capture the rent accruing from taxes, natural resources or criminal activities, the potential beneficiaries manoeuvre to become the necessary interfaces with the international community. The “intervention rent” can be just as significant in countries that have become a priority of the international community. It includes humanitarian as well as development aid. A significant proportion of it will never reach the end beneficiaries, as multiple layers interpose themselves. A major disruption is thus created, which exacerbates the competition for access to the internationals. Being able to influence the distribution of international funds is a power multiplier, which by comparison weakens those who can only rely on national revenues. Patronage networks are strengthened, some within existing state structures, some outside them, as we have seen in the case of South Sudan. International funders are usually eager to move quickly, and going through the bureaucratic structures of the host country can delay the disbursement of funds, and create additional opportunities for corruption. Directly connecting with local organisations often seems more efficient and appears to promote more accountability, as one can check whether the targeted end-​beneficiaries actually benefit. The temptation to circumvent national structures is strong, and a whole ecosystem of international development and humanitarian NGOs has grown. In the case of humanitarian NGOs, the risk is particularly high, because humanitarian NGOs deploy to address humanitarian emergencies, and speed is of the essence. But for reasons mentioned above, many conflict actors –​including in some cases the humanitarian actors themselves –​have no interest in a quick solution, and an increasing number of emergency situations last for years, if not decades. Temporary refugee camps become permanent cities, as has been observed in Darfur, and humanitarian action takes on a development dimension, but because of its origins, it is often organised outside local state structures. Development actors, who emphasise national ownership, have made special efforts to integrate their work in the structures of the host country, and promote a local process of accountability without short-​circuiting central state structures that it is their aim to strengthen. In Afghanistan, the National Solidarity Program managed by the World Bank tried to achieve precisely that: the funds were distributed through the Ministry of Rural Rehabilitation and Development, although their use was managed and monitored by local councils. But that is not enough to build the institutions of a state. In Afghanistan, everybody knew that the funds of the National Solidarity Program were a temporary windfall and not a structural change. As a consequence, their structural impact was negligible. More often than not, the humanitarian and development bubble that appears in a conflict country is not organically linked to an institutional strategy and it is likely to be captured by the traditional elites. That failure raises a difficult question on the possibility of achieving lasting change with actions that are admittedly exceptional and temporary. The deployment of an international presence, in addition to its military impact, creates an economic shock but conflict countries are very resilient because many actors have perfected the art of adaptation, as they struggle to survive in a continuously

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changing environment. As observed by Adam Day, times of trouble and uncertainty do not create a blank slate on which the international community would have the luxury to write its own narrative.6 On the contrary, when everything is in flux, traditional power brokers appear as islands of stability and they become a key component of the resilience of a conflict country. Under the circumstances, an influx of foreign money may be more likely to strengthen them than to build the foundations of a post-​conflict state. And the more money is available, the greater the risk that networks of corruption will flourish. If that hypothesis is correct, a main risk to post-​conflict strategies is not insufficient funding, but rather an over-​ abundance of international money that amplifies the corrupting and disrupting impact of an international presence. A modicum of international interest might be, under certain conditions (see below), beneficial. A massive inflow will compound the challenges. Better be Liberia than Afghanistan.

Rethinking UN Peace Operations What does the United Nations want to achieve? The last two decades have been influenced by an implicit political economy of the state that today needs to be questioned. The proliferation of “multidimensional” peace operations has reflected the belief that the consolidation of a modern state depends in large part on the provision of services to the people, who accept that the state regain its monopoly on the legitimate use of force in exchange for the services it renders. It is a functionalist vision of peace, which assumes that conflict actors have to be nudged into peace by an appropriate combination of incentives and disincentives. Following that logic, it stands to reason that a peace operation should make use of all the levers it can mobilise, using force to raise the threshold of disruption for spoilers, offering the prospect of development to restore the legitimacy of weakened institutions. The most accomplished –​and highly controversial –​example of that approach may have been Liberia in the 2000s, when the international community tried to combine security and economic oversight of Liberia –​plagued by corruption –​in a single framework.The Governance and Economic Management Assistance Program (GEMAP) was designed by the World Bank, the European Commission and the U.S. government to strengthen the Liberian state through intrusive controls of a few key state enterprises that provided most of its revenues. It was conceived in the same period that saw Kosovo and Timor Leste administered as quasi trusteeships of the United Nations, and the fact that the UN Security Council was kept informed of its implementation reflected the highly political nature of that economic oversight. It could not have emerged under any other circumstances than the brief unipolar moment in which the West could impose its agenda. Its ultimate logic would today be seen as colonial, and its lasting impact remains in doubt. Once that unipolar moment ended, the model could not be repeated, and several examples analysed in this book show that a technocratic, non-​political understanding of the state –​even in a less ambitious version than Liberia, Kosovo or Timor Leste –​is not sustainable because it does not reflect the political reality

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of such state. A state is always a political battlefield and there is no such thing as an impartial state, especially in a country emerging from conflict, where the social capital has been severely depleted. The institutions of a country cannot, on their own, ensure its stability. They have to harness the power of political constituencies that will defend them and strengthen them. When that is not the case, the state can only be a kind of Potemkin village behind which various games will continue to be played. The massive failure of the state-building enterprise in South Sudan is a case in point. As described by Adam Day, international aid was able only to build a parallel reality that collapsed at the first opportunity.7 That does not mean that no effort should be expended on strengthening state institutions beyond the security sector, but a thorough analysis should be made of what those state institutions stand for in the mapping of power. In some specific situations, a few institutions can have a strategic importance. In Libya, where the state derives almost all its revenues from oil exports, two institutions play a critical role: the national oil company, as the key collector of revenues; and the central bank, where those revenues are deposited. If they break up, the country breaks up, as the oil revenues of the country are no longer controlled by a single actor and can fuel the war effort of conflicting actors. That is precisely what began to happen as a second central bank emerged in the East, and some oil revenues could be deposited in its accounts. However, the international community was not powerless when confronted with that situation. Oil transactions are usually conducted in dollars, which gives a specific role to the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, on whose accounts many transactions appear, a situation that gives a particular influence to the United States. In most situations however, the geography of power is more diffuse. In particular, the distribution of power between local, regional and national institutions is itself a subject of dispute and has major political implications, as the support given by international partners to the different and often conflicting levels of government will send a political signal. The way international support is channelled and allocated matters as much or more than the support itself. In most cases, the national government is prioritised, in the hope that international support will help national political actors acquire more legitimacy, as they are seen to deliver more services to the people. But the expectation that in the process the legitimacy of an impartial state will be strengthened is often mistaken. It rests on the assumption noted above that people accept the legitimacy of a state because of the services they receive from it. This functionalist view of the state only partly reflects reality, because other competing sources of legitimacy –​religious, tribal, ethnic –​must be acknowledged. They undermine the vision of an impartial state providing services to the citizenry. They often reinforce relationships of patronage, as a particular group is in a privileged position to benefit from the services rendered. Under such circumstances, the national interlocutors of the international community gain respect and authority not because they are building a new impartial state, but because they prove to be astute in capturing the rent of international aid as others capture the rent of natural resources, and use it to strengthen their patronage

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network. Such capture is of a fleeting nature, and is unlikely to survive the decrease of aid flows. Actually, as noted above, the more massive the aid flows have been, the more fragile the superstructure of the state that was built with that money may be. Afghanistan is a case in point: for a few years, Ashraf Ghani was the head of state, and it is hard to imagine someone better prepared for the technical challenges of a modern state. He is a respected expert who has worked for international organisations and has a deep knowledge of the critical components that are necessary for a “fragile state” to become stronger. At the highest levels of government, competent specialists were seconded to help improve processes and build a modern state. And yet, that state collapsed in a matter of weeks. What was missing was a critical mass of political actors willing to embed in institutions and practices new modes of government. As is often the case in post-​conflict countries, the effort was supply-​driven rather than demand-​driven. The lesson from that failed experiment in state-​building is that the priority should never be for the international community to try to assemble the building blocks of a functioning state, as rational as that approach may look, and as convenient it may appear for aid agencies, funds and programmes that each have a claim to a specific expertise in one area of government. It is much more important and effective to identify the political dynamics that shape post-​conflict societies, and try to provide a framework that will help empower in a systemic way those groups who have a genuine interest in real change. This is an utterly political undertaking which requires a deep understanding of the political economy of conflict. In most situations however, the international community is poorly prepared for such a strategy. It places bets on persons rather than systems and groups, and it is driven by the impatient and often conflicting pressures of donors and countries, who want quick, visible and attributable results. In most situations, that impatience, in part a reflection of competition between rival actors, jeopardises the achievement of structural progress. There is often neither coherence nor consistency between organisations and countries that are in competition with each other and have their own objectives. Just as it is overly optimistic to expect a state emerging from conflict to be the neutral technocratic agent of progress, it is an illusion to expect intervening states to prioritise the welfare of the country they have come to help. The international engagement in Afghanistan was driven by counterterrorist goals, and the stabilisation of the country became an objective only insofar as it served the counter terrorist priority. But there were many situations where the objectives proved incompatible, as allying with warlords was useful to defeat some terrorist groups, while marginalising warlords was equally necessary to strengthen the state.8 In the end, the United Nations, as an organisation of states, wants states to remain the building blocks of the international community, and that limited goal may provide the basis for a counter-terrorist agenda, but there is some distance from that agenda to a state-building agenda, where the competing interests of national and international actors are bound to clash. The intervening states, and the United Nations that should be the expression of their collective will, are themselves part of the economy of conflict, rather than a distant and impartial referee. That

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does not disqualify peace operations as an indispensable tool of peacemaking and peacebuilding, but it should encourage humility, so that the goals are tailored to the limited shared ambitions of a fractured international community.

Taking Account of Transnational Forces and Context in Shaping Strategy Humility is all the more necessary as peacemakers are increasingly dependent on actors they do not know and often do not understand. Conflicts can rarely be isolated from the broader context in which they emerge.They are often cross border, and shaped by transnational forces that cannot be effectively addressed through a country specific approach. This has been recognised by the Security Council, and the growing use of commissions of inquiry and of targeted sanctions reflects that evolution: many conflict actors have a global outlook, and their wealth reflects it; international capital flows need to be tracked to understand the political economy of contemporary conflict. But tracking them and then acting on what has been revealed raises difficult political questions. The apparent unity of the international community often disappears when conflicting economic interests clash.9 There is even less unity of purpose for investigations and sanctions than there is for peace operations, although their effectiveness depends on the existence of a coherent framework that integrates them in a comprehensive approach of conflict management and resolution. A good example of the divisions and competing ambitions of the international community is provided by the DRC: throughout the first decade of the deployment of a peacekeeping operation in DRC, the American embassy in Kinshasa was very active in supporting the acquisition by an American company of major mining assets (copper and cobalt), and it is likely that this economic goal was not completely ignored as Washington was defining its posture with the Kabila regime. Eventually, American efforts were successful, and a U.S. company acquired a majority interest in an important mine. Ironically, a few years later, the over-​ leveraged American company which had the controlling interest decided to sell its Congolese assets, which were acquired by a Chinese company that eventually increased its control by acquiring an additional minority interest held by a private equity firm. This example, in its unexpected twists and turns, is interesting in its apparent contradictions: it illustrates how economic interests –​in this case an American mining company –​can try to mobilise political influence, with little consideration for a conflict resolution strategy. Such efforts can be interpreted as part of a broader geopolitical competition between two economic superpowers, but they also show how corporate dynamics can in the end stand in the way of that simplistic interpretation: the political economy of conflict becomes much more complicated when the outsiders who are not direct parties to the conflict are included.10 These inevitable limitations are compounded by the continuously evolving circumstances in which peace operations are deployed. The weak peace agreement

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that is often the basis for their initial deployment is overtaken by the evolution on the ground and changing perspectives of international actors who have influence on the conflict. The consent of the parties needs to be continuously managed, as well as the evolving politics of the Security Council. With so much fluidity, it becomes very hard to develop a long-​term strategy, and only a very nimble operation, capable of continuously adjusting its goals and priorities, can have a hope of succeeding. Should it prioritise salvaging the initial peace agreement, or attempt to negotiate a new one? Should it focus on politics, or tone down its ambitions and prioritise humanitarian goals such as the protection of civilians? In most situations, precisely because the situation is changing, and a new consensus is hard to forge, it will receive no such guidance, as the members of the Security Council prefer taking refuge in harmless vague recommendations.

Conclusion Where does that leave the peacemakers who shape and manage peace operations? We should first have the honesty and self-​awareness to make a distinction between those who work for a state and those who work for international organisations. Many failures come from the lack of honesty in acknowledging that the peacemakers have different perspectives, depending on where they sit. As noted above, the operation in Afghanistan was not launched to build a modern Afghan state. It was launched by the United States to destroy Al Qaeda and deter other countries to host its remnants. The state-building enterprise, with its focus on human rights and the liberation of women from oppression, was an afterthought that became useful to build support for the operation in the United States and in other democracies. It was never the core mission, but for a multitude of governmental and non-​governmental organisations, it was easier to build support and raise funds under the banner of development and gender equality than counter-​ terrorism. Likewise, there would never have been so much support for a peacekeeping operation in the DRC if the natural resources of the country had not been so huge. That does not make such operations illegitimate. The member states of the United Nations that decide to launch an operation and then support it have legitimate interests, and they should not hide them. But as they shape a peace strategy, they should acknowledge the tensions and possible contradictions between conflicting interests. They should not hide them, but rather explore how they can be reconciled, or at least balanced. That would lead to more modest but actually more achievable goals that recognise the inherent limitations of outsiders. There is a moral hazard in pretending to shape the future of a country when you will not have to suffer the consequences of your mistakes. The thousands of advisers who descended on Afghanistan are back home. The women of Afghanistan, except for a few lucky ones, are still in Afghanistan. The United Nations and international NGOs are, at least in principle, in a different and less conflicted situation. Their only obligation is to the people they

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have come to serve. The reality is however fraught with similar tensions. At the most trivial level are the bureaucratic interests of organisations that depend on voluntary contributions of member states and need to please their donors to justify their existence. They have a stake in maintaining the ideology of the functionalist state whose legitimacy is built on the services it delivers. Peacekeeping operations, funded on assessed contributions, are in theory not handicapped by such considerations. But different departments of the United Nations have different bureaucratic interests: the Department of Peace Operations will be more supportive of multidimensional peace operations while the Department of Political and Peacebuilding Affairs will advertise special political missions for their nimbleness and low cost. Bureaucratic rivalries inevitably encourage a supply-​driven approach that can only lead to failure. A better approach is however possible and the debacle of Afghanistan makes it more urgent. What international organisations need to better integrate is the international environment in which they operate. This is not to say that they should go along with the dominant narrative of the moment to cater to the whims of the powerful. That would be a betrayal of their primary mission: support and help people for whom they are the last resort. But as they define their goals, they should realistically assess the political space in which they operate, and like the member states that fund them, be more humble about what they can achieve. In the end, the most important lesson of a broader understanding of the political economy of conflict is a genuine acknowledgement of the many limitations of a peacemaking and peacekeeping strategy.This new-​found humility should be shared by states and international organisations alike. States should not be bashful about the national interests they pursue, and international organisations should not point a self-​r ighteous finger at member states. On the contrary, they should integrate as part of their strategy the need to take into account the uncertainties of conflicting national policies. In the present context of retreat and scepticism about foreign ventures and state-building, a more modest agenda, in addition to having in and of itself a greater chance of success, is more likely to attract the minimum level of support required to make progress.

Notes 1 Rupert Smith, The Utility of Force –​The Art of War in the Modern World (London: Allen Lane, 2005). 2 See, for instance, “Role of Mining in National Economies”, a study published by the International Council on Mining and Metals, which also stresses the need to abide by transparency standards (EITI): www.icmm.com/​en-​gb/​resea​rch/​soc​ial-​perf​orma​nce/​ 2020/​role-​of-​min​ing-​in-​natio​nal-​econ​omi 3 See Chapter 11 by Ashley Jackson, in this volume. 4 Adam Day, “The Unbuilding of a State”, p. 203. 5 For example, Michael Carnahan, Scott Gilmore and William Durch, “New Data on the Economic Impact of UN Peacekeeping,” International Peacekeeping, 14:3, 384–​402, 2007, DOI: 10.1080/​13533310701422943

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6 Day, “The Unbuilding of a State”, p. 209. 7 For Day’s critique of the UN’s approach to statebuilding, see also Adam Day, States of Disorder, Ecosystems of Governance –​Complexity Theory Applied to UN Statebuilding in the DRC and South Sudan (Oxford: Oxford University Press 2022). 8 Jackson, “No Peace Left to Keep”, p. 222. 9 On this, see Chapters 4, 5 and 9 in this volume by Alan Doss, Tatiana Carayannis and Michael Kavanagh, and Charles Cater. 10 See Chapter 6 by Josie Lianna Kaye in this volume.

Bibliography Carnahan, Michael, Scott Gilmore and William Durch, “New Data on the Economic Impact of UN Peacekeeping” International Peacekeeping, 14:3, 384–​402, 2007, DOI: 10.1080/​ 13533310701422943 Day, Adam, States of Disorder, Ecosystems of Governance –​Complexity Theory Applied to UN Statebuilding in the DRC and South Sudan (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2022). Role of Mining in National Economies (International Council on Mining and Metals, 2020), www.icmm.com/​en-​gb/​resea​rch/​soc​ial-​perf​orma​nce/​2020/​role-​of-​min​ing-​in-​natio​ nal-​econom​ies Smith, Rupert. The Utility of Force –​The Art of War in the Modern World (London: Allen Lane, 2005).

3 OPERATIONALISING THE “PRIMACY OF POLITICS” IN UN PEACE OPERATIONS Implications of Political Economy Analysis Kenny Gluck

Central Africans can be forgiven if they greeted the February 2019 signature of the Political Agreement for Peace and Reconciliation in the Central African Republic (CAR) with a large dose of scepticism, notwithstanding the agreement’s numerous endorsements from the African Union (AU) and the United Nations (UN). Many noted that the agreement was the eighth in only six years, none of which provided durable relief from violence or the political stability that those agreements and their international backers promised. As many Central Africans feared, the 2019 agreement’s first year was marked by numerous armed clashes and massacres, conducted by the agreement’s signatories. International guarantors, including the AU and the UN, were reluctant to confront the perpetrators or promote accountability for these crimes, many of which likely constituted crimes against humanity, for fear of undermining the accord. Before the agreement’s second anniversary, the country was back at war, with most of the signatory groups abandoning the pact and again laying siege of the capital, Bangui. Sudanese, both South and North, would likely sympathise with the frustration of their Central African neighbours. As predicted by many observers at the time, the much-​heralded Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) of January 2005, which sought to end the long war between the country’s North and South, instead was followed by wars in both the North and the South. The negotiation of the CPA was accompanied by a severe escalation of violence in Darfur. The South relapsed into civil war shortly after obtaining the independence which the accord had made possible. Both Darfur and South Sudan have since witnessed multiple agreements which struggled to stay the bloodsheds. The latest Darfur agreement, signed in Juba in December 2020, was followed by a sharp increase of violence in West and South Darfur. Plagued for decades by coups d’état, civil war and instability, the CAR and the Sudans might represent extreme cases, but the frustration with peace agreements DOI: 10.4324/9781003248637-4

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and extended peace processes which fail to produce results is seen in many other contexts from Yemen to Mali and from Somalia to the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). In many cases, years of mediation and internationally facilitated peace processes produce numerous agreements and celebratory press conferences, but little relief from the violence and abuses which characterise the conflicts. This chapter will review some of the reasons why traditional mediation-​centric strategies are likely to prove incapable of reducing violence or creating more stable political orders and where more multi-​faceted approaches to peace operations and peace processes are clearly needed. It will also examine some of the innovations adopted by peace operations in recent years as they seek to cope with the limitations of national agreements and weakly structured belligerents. This recent experience points the way to more inclusive, multifaceted and broader strategies which can help overcome some of the challenges faced by countries and peace operations in these situations.1

UN Peace Operations and the Centrality of Mediation The repeated inability of national agreements to impact patterns of violence in many contexts where UN peace operations are deployed stands in contrast to the international community’s continued promotion of mediation-​centric approaches to civil war and violent instability. This can be seen in the numerous resolutions extolling mediation, such as the 2011 General Assembly resolution on strengthening the role of mediation2, the popular Group of Friends of Mediation, chaired by Finland and Turkey, and most importantly, the plans and tactics of the many UN, AU envoys and member state stakeholders. The latest major review of UN peace operations, the 2015 High Level Panel on Peace Operations (HIPPO), called for peace operations, both peacekeeping and special political missions, to prioritise efforts to end violence through dialogue and the promotion of political settlements.3 Labelled as the primacy of politics in peacekeeping operations, this call has since been thoroughly enshrined in policy initiatives, member state compacts and official UN doctrine. While the HIPPO limited its exposition of the primacy of politics to six brief and largely abstract paragraphs, it has been interpreted and operationalised to mean the promotion of national political agreements, to the exclusion of a broader set of political, military and technical approaches.4 In its resolution 2378 on the reform of peacekeeping, the Security Council “stresses that the primacy of politics should be the hallmark of the approach of the United Nations to the resolution of conflict, including through mediation, the monitoring of ceasefires, assistance to the implementation of peace accords”.5 Under the banner of the primacy of politics, peace operations came to see the achievement of national political agreements as their primary objective, and the text of these agreements as their strategy. The primacy of politics admirably countered the notion that conflicts could be resolved by military force alone, as well as the pressure to transform some UN operations into counter-​insurgency operations. It also expanded the aspirations for

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peace operations to go beyond the limitation of violence and the protection of civilians to also promote durable political change, making these conflicts less of a threat to its neighbours and less ruinous to the lives of people living in them. Recent experience, however, suggests that these ambitions are not well served by the mediation-​centric approaches in the many contexts where national agreements have had, and likely will continue to have, limited utility for reducing violence or creating more stable political orders. Mediation practice and policy are rooted in a long history of inter-​state conflict management. In recent decades, civil wars with weakly structured and fragmented belligerents now dominate in the place of inter-​state conflict, but the design of peace processes has been slow to adapt.6 The image of peace processes as two rows of representatives around a table with a mediator between them persists. Conflicts with strong states, and limited numbers of cohesive and structured actors, might successfully achieve national agreements which sustainably reduce violence and create more stable political orders. In most cases where UN peace operations or peace processes are deployed, however, weakly structured, incohesive and highly fragmented belligerents dominate, and national political agreements around this traditional table often fail to change patterns of violence or resolve long-​term sources of instability. Many observers cite heightened great power tensions and competition as a primary source of recent failures, but progress has been scant even in conflicts where the Security Council is largely united, such as South Sudan, CAR, Mali or Yemen. In the many conflicts with weakly structured and incohesive belligerents, peace operations and the peace processes they support will need broader strategies in which the search for and implementation of national peace agreements is one tool, among others. These strategies should also provide an opportunity to generate far greater inclusivity and broader ownership and redesigned peace processes. The challenges posed by these conflicts require a search for alternative centres of gravity for these peace processes and not merely the addition of more actors to a table unlikely to produce viable results.

Weakly Structured, Incohesive and Fragmented Belligerents William Zartman famously argued that conflicts are only ripe for settlement with the presence of a mutually hurting stalemate, the conceivable beneficial settlement and the presence of valid spokespersons, capable of negotiating and concluding agreements on behalf of a group.7 For many of the conflicts where multilateral peace operations are deployed or peace processes organised, this last condition has been sorely lacking. The international community is frequently placing more faith in mediated solutions than they can realistically bear in these situations. Many armed groups struggle to develop the effective representation required to engage meaningfully in negotiations. In weakly structured and incohesive groups, the need to formulate clear negotiating positions and agree on potential compromises exacerbates internal differences and leads to defections and splintering. As a result,

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negotiations and agreements drive fragmentation and violence as was seen in the 2015 agreement in South Sudan, which drove allied rebels from Equatoria to defect from larger factions and launch a new wave of attacks.8 To avoid splits and preserve their positions, leaders of armed groups often avoid serious negotiation or negotiate with little intention of respecting agreements once concluded. Weak cohesion and fragmentation also contribute to frequent changes in armed group alliances which complicate negotiations and implementation. As Fotina Christia demonstrated, smaller armed groups tend to defect from negotiations or agreements which might leave them as a junior partner, regardless of the ethnic affiliations of the coalition.9 Negotiations in Darfur, South Sudan, and CAR involved fluid coalitions with dozens of armed groups where fighting units frequently shifted their alliances to better position themselves to sign agreements or to evade them. During many years of the conflicts in Sudan and CAR, more blood was shed in violence among armed groups than between them and the government. Although armed group leaders often sign agreements to secure short-​term or personal benefits, the lack of internal discipline and cohesion undermines their implementation, often leaving populations without the promised benefits of peace. Most weakly structured armed groups struggle to provide basic information to mid-​ level commanders about agreements, let alone effective guidance and command. Mid-​level commanders in the CAR were relying on rumours about the agreed ceasefire provisions weeks and sometimes months after agreements were concluded. Orders to obey agreements were routinely ignored as mid-​level units continued violent predation or military competition with local rivals. Even where bolstered by international monitoring, compliance with most agreements’ security provisions relies primarily on the belligerents’ internal structures to convey information and instructions, and exercise discipline. Lacking effective command-​and-​control mechanisms, groups have limited capacity to provide incentives, or impose costs, on units which violate an agreement’s provisions. In groups with high levels of fragmentation and weak structures, it is no surprise that compliance with agreements is low.10 Weakly structured and fragmented groups also frequently rely heavily on economic predation for sustenance and to enable adhesion and recruitment. In CAR, DRC, South Sudan and elsewhere armed group members, and occasionally government soldiers, are mobilised and compensated by allowing them to loot or impose illicit taxes on civilians and civilian commerce rather than through centralised payments systems.11 Where ceasefires or agreements seek to reduce violence against civilians and restore state authority by prohibiting such violence, armed groups without effective command and control are helpless to demand compliance even where agreements have been concluded. Agreements in poorly resourced countries struggle to gain adherence from units for whom the benefits of predation are immediate and outweigh benefits, such as integration in the security forces or demobilization, disarmament and ­reintegration (DDR) programmes, which an agreement can offer. Granting senior government posts to armed group leaders, which has been the most common form

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of power-​sharing arrangements in recent peace agreements, has proven to be a highly ineffective mechanisms for addressing this challenge.12 These agreements often bring individual leaders into the government but fail to end the violence conducted by armed units who see little benefits from having their erstwhile leader in a minister’s chair.

Weak, Failing and Spurious Agreements The same lack of internal structure and cohesion which undermines negotiations leads to highly flawed agreements when they are reached. Peace agreements serve different purposes in different contexts and are frequently neither inclusive, comprehensive nor an adequate response to the challenges of violence and instability facing the population. In many cases, the signatories have neither the capacity nor the intention to fulfil the obligations of the agreements they conclude. The negotiation of the February 2019 Political Agreement for Peace and Reconciliation in CAR was based on a text proposed by the government which the armed groups only saw five days before the agreement was finalised. Several key leaders chose to remain in exile despite signing the agreement. Written translations of the original French text for the armed group leaders (who spoke little or no French were only provided months after the accord was signed. Many armed group leaders had limited understanding of the agreement’s contents, which was signed under intense regional pressure. Many of the key details, including membership in an) inclusive government, and the sequencing of disarmament and reintegration provisions, were left undefined, leading to chronic delays and disputes during implementation. While most guidelines and policies highlight the need for national ownership, many agreements, which peace operations have used as the centrepiece of their strategies, are rooted in regional and international politics rather than in domestic interests and perspectives. During the 2008–​2011 Darfur peace process, the Sudanese government was negotiating less to secure an agreement with the armed groups, most of whom were already marginalised militarily, than to improve relations with the international community and escape economically devasting sanctions. The resulting agreements served to enhance Sudan’s relations with Qatar, which had hosted the talks, and relieve pressures from Western countries, but had limited value as a frame for political progress towards overcoming the country’s deep divisions or generating improved governance. The Revitalized Agreement on the Resolution of the Conflict in South Sudan (R-​ARCSS), which sought to end the civil war in South Sudan, resulted primarily from regional pressure on the South Sudanese government. Although signed in 2018 by President Salva Kiir and a rebel coalition led by his former vice president, which had militarily collapsed prior to the agreement, implementation began only in 2020. The agreement granted the rebel movements seats in the government and included largely undefined obligations for the reform of the security sector which had become the centre of corruption and misappropriation of state resources since

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independence.13 Signed under regional and international pressure, the agreement provided some useful direction for improved and more inclusive governance, but in no way provided a holistic framework for greater stability and many provisions are seen as impractical, without broad domestic support, and likely to be ignored. Peace agreements are often portrayed as a political compromise between different power centres in a society. The approach assumes that belligerents effectively represent the key ethnic, regional or religious blocs in a society. As many recent agreements show, the belligerents are not capable of exercising this representative function. Agreements frequently represent deals based on individual interests of groups invited to negotiate or are imposed by outside forces. The strategies of peace operations that were narrowly focused on agreement implementation were often left without a coherent vision for progress in the many situations in which agreements are neither inclusive, comprehensive nor likely to serve as an effective framework to reduce violence and a more stable political order.The mediation-​centric approaches to peace operations’ strategies, both in the search for agreement and their implementation, need to better factor in the flawed nature of agreements which emerge from negotiations with groups lacking structure and cohesion.

Peace Operations Caught in Spirals of Violence For the reasons noted above, peace processes and agreements signed with weakly structured and incohesive groups have repeatedly failed, leaving countries in spirals of recurring organised violence and peace operations struggling to adapt. Although the post-​Cold War system of addressing conflict was conceived as a neat progression of conflict prevention, peacemaking, peacekeeping and peacebuilding, only in rare situations are there clear and sequential paths between negotiations, agreements and implementation. Peace operations in the CAR have witnessed almost a dozen peace agreements since 1997, most of them endorsed by the UN Security Council and the AU.14 Some of the agreements, including the latest February 2019 settlement, involved upwards of a dozen different armed groups and factions. Despite numerous power-​sharing arrangements, commitments for security sector reform and DDR programmes, none of these agreements had a long-​term pacifying or stabilising effect. The numerous UN, AU and regional peace missions which have graced the country since 1997 have spent long years either calling for respect for the previous agreement or urging the negotiations for an agreement to replace its failing predecessor accord. Despite their commitments in the February 2019 agreement, many of the armed groups continued violent economic predation, leading to widespread public opposition to the accord. The agreement brought armed group leaders into the government, created new mixed security units in exchange for armed group commitments to disarm, demobilise and end illegal taxation. None of the major signatories to the agreement made progress towards disarmament or demobilisation and the country

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was again facing attacks by many of the signatory armed groups less than two years after the agreement was signed. Despite holding posts in “lucrative ministries”, such as transport, water and forests or public works, armed group leaders openly admitted that they had few effective means of demanding compliance from their own forces who were acting out of economic self-​interest or to defend local interests. After the resumption of rebellion in 2020, UN and regional calls for renewed negotiations were met with strong public resistance. The UN peace operation in Mali was deployed immediately following the signing of the Ouagadougou Agreement in June 2013 and support for the agreement’s implementation was one of the mission’s priorities. The Ouagadougou agreement was replaced as the principal political framework by the Algiers Agreement for Peace and Reconciliation almost two years later. The negotiations that led to the Algiers agreement were accompanied by the fragmentation of the armed movements, and the implementation of the agreement’s key provisions still lags seven years later amidst widespread popular hostility for the agreement. The coups d’état in October 2020 and June 2021 in Mali will raise further questions about the agreement’s viability. Both agreements focused on security and governance arrangements between Bamako and the armed groups in the country’s north. With a strategy focused on agreement implementation, the peacekeeping mission struggled to cope with the outbreak of severe violence in parts of the country not covered by either agreement. The violence which erupted in the centre of the country led the UN Security Council to also task the UN mission to support the stabilisation and restoration of state authority in addition to its support for the implementation of the Algiers agreement. Rather than serving as a tool for post-​ conflict stabilisation, peacekeeping operations now serve during long years of setbacks, multiple agreements and failing agreements. Many peace operations are engaged in situations which have seen numerous overlapping or successive agreements. In these situations, there is rarely clarity as to whether the missions should be focusing on the implementation of weak and failing agreements, mitigation of the conflict’s violence or impact on civilians, or the search for new political frameworks.

Beyond Agreements –​Expanding the Scope of the Primacy of Politics The prevalence of armed conflicts involving incohesive and weakly structured armed groups requires reconsideration of the design of peace processes and agreements, as well as peace operations strategies which look beyond peace agreements as the primary or exclusive framework for helping countries exit from conflict and build sustainable peace. The UN Security Council has responded to the challenge of chronic instability with the creation of stabilisation missions. The lack of a common understanding of stabilisation in the UN system and the disastrous recent experience of US-​led stabilisation missions in Afghanistan and Iraq has held back the development of

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comprehensive strategies for these missions.15 In their absence, missions frequently allow the text of agreements, or the search for the next one, to take the place of more comprehensive and coherent strategies. Peacekeeping missions have been multi-​dimensional for almost two decades, but the insistence on mediation-​centric approaches reduces the potential synergies of the varied tools at a mission’s disposal. Rather than tools in a coherent strategy to sustainably reduce violence or foster greater political stability, they are left as technical tasks disconnected from a political vision for change or serving the implementation of weak agreements. Developing more effective and comprehensive strategies will require that mandating authorities, or missions themselves, develop a more comprehensive and realistic vision for political stability, inclusive governance and reduced violence and deeper understanding of the nature of the violence being conducted. Rather than focusing exclusively on the relations between belligerents, as mediation policy and practice has traditionally emphasised, these approaches will require a greater study of the relations within belligerents and their relationship with social groups. This will encourage peace operations to explore new strategies in which other tools and methods complement mediation-​centric approaches or, in some situations, replace them. Some of the approaches which peace operations could consider as part of these strategies, based on recent innovations in existing processes, are explored below.

Engaging at Multiple Levels of Conflict As Kalyvas demonstrates in The Logic of Violence in Civil Wars, the patterns of violence in conflict often reflect local dynamics and competition rather than the master cleavages that define the wars for the outside world.16 This phenomenon is particularly significant in conflicts where armed groups are weakly structured and incohesive, as a group’s leadership has limited capacity to disciple local units or force them to follow national priorities.17 The prioritisation of the search for and implementation of national agreements, which focuses on a country’s central political or inter-​communal cleavage, limits the capacity of peace operations and peace processes to effectively promote the reduction of violence, the protection of civilians and political progress. Overcoming challenges facing peace processes or agreements in conflicts with armed groups that are weakly structured, incohesive and fragmented will often require greater political engagement at local levels. Many peacekeeping and special political missions, including the United Nations Support Mission in Libya (UNSMIL), the United Nations Mission in the Republic of South Sudan (UNMISS) and the Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in the Central African Republic (MINUSCA), have started to invest in the promotion of local negotiation and dialogue in recent years, both before and after the signature of national agreements. In the years prior to the 2019 peace agreement in the CAR, MINUSCA helped advance dozens of ceasefires, inter-​communal pacts and other local agreements.

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In the CAR, South Sudan and Yemen, the local dialogues were critical for creating a conducive environment for national progress as local ethnic competition was intimately related to national competition. Local leaders in these countries and elsewhere bargain for military and financial support by offering to mobilise fighters for national coalitions. As Séverine Autesserre described in the eastern DRC, rather than simple manipulation of local grievance by national leaders, the local and national existed in destructive synergy.18 The international community’s resistance to addressing local tensions and investing in local dialogue and negotiation processes often doomed their hopes for progress at the national level. Better managing local tensions and their violence eases the negotiation and implementation of national processes as localised violence often destabilises negotiations and can de-​legitimise and reduce public support for national agreements. The ability to effectively promote local dialogue and negotiations requires a greater capacity for relationship building and understanding of the nature of local political and economic competition and its role in the generation of military alliances and recruitment of fighters than is generally found in peacekeeping operations or special political missions. Lacking the extensive field presence of most peacekeeping missions, the UN Office of the Special Envoy of the Secretary-General to Yemen (OSESGY) sought to promote local dialogue through partnerships with international mediation and dialogue organisations. UNMISS also partnered with local organisations as well as anthropologists to help better understand local economic competition and its links with violence. The local dialogues supported and promoted by the different peace operations vary greatly in nature. In South Sudan and CAR, these dialogues sought to create mechanisms to better manage transhumance-​related tensions as well as attempts to minimise armed obstruction of access to public services and markets. In CAR, local dialogues often involved negotiations with armed groups as well as efforts to better manage inter-​communal issues with the participation of local traditional leaders, women’s groups and religious leaders. UNMISS-​supported local dialogues also sought to improve civil–​military relations between government security forces, non-​state armed groups and local populations to help reduce frictions, lessen abuses against civilians and build greater mechanisms of local accountability.19 The impact of these local processes varied greatly. Many processes failed to generate impact despite months of efforts. In other contexts, the effect on local well-​being and stability was dramatic. Bangassou, a town in south-​eastern CAR, became the centre of international attention in 2017 when the town’s minority Muslim quarter was attacked and burnt amidst widespread targeted killing. Six peacekeepers died while defending civilians in the neighbourhood and in related attacks.The inter-​communal tensions were so grave that the UN Emergency Relief Coordinator declared that the country was “on the edge of genocide” during a visit several months after the massacre. An 18-​month process of dialogue led by the prefect and church and Muslim officials with MINUSCA’s support led to a dramatic change so that by the end of 2019, the area was one of the more peaceful regions in the country.

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In many cases, these gains will be unsustainable over the long term in the absence of a broader political progress. The progress in Bangassou was partly undone in late 2020 as a new rebel coalition abandoned the 2019 agreement and sought to block the nation’s first post-​agreement elections. But deployed as part of a joint strategy in conjunction with efforts to support more effective and inclusive governance and programmatic initiatives, and military and police action (in peacekeeping missions) local political engagement, it demonstrated the ability to generate tangible improvements for the population, address sources of instability and reduce violence. The recent investments in local dialogue and negotiation are positive and have borne fruit in many conflicts but they will likely need to become more central to the strategies of peace operations. Far too often they remain small-​scale and ad-​hoc initiatives to compensate for the limitations of agreements and relegated to the margins of the strategy. Their potential to help advance local and national progress will be far greater if they are formulated and implemented as part of a coherent strategy for political progress relying on diverse tools.

Investing in the Stability and Inclusivity of State Institutions Peace operations in conflicts with weakly structured and incohesive armed groups have also innovated in recent years with investments in the functioning and inclusivity of state institutions. These investments have shown potential to promote stability and provide opportunities to generate tangible benefits during peace processes and in advance of larger agreements. Political and technical support for more effective and inclusive state institutions can contribute to reducing suffering, inter-​group tensions and competition over patronage. Efforts to strengthen state institutions have often been part of post-​agreement and stabilisation missions, but there is also potential for peace operations to invest as part of a broader strategy in situations of active conflict and where agreements are still distant. Rather than waiting for national agreements to determine the parameters of change, effective engagement with state institutions linked to dialogue and negotiation with diverse political and social leaders beyond the belligerents can begin early in peace processes. Peace operations in Yemen and Libya invested in the stabilisation of key state institutions as central parts of their interventions to support political progress during conflict. While these interventions were partly justified by their positive humanitarian impact, the interventions had clear political benefits. The UN in Libya viewed the continued functioning of the Central Bank, which had allowed continued salary payments to state employees throughout the country, as critical to avoiding further social fragmentation and proliferation of militias, which both drove violence and undermined the possibility of local and national dialogue.20 Reaching outside the direct belligerents, the UN Mission facilitated the creation of a diverse group of economic experts and commercial actors to negotiate ways of overcoming the breach between the capital and eastern based branches of the

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Central Bank, which threatened to undermine Libya’s currency and banking system (UNSMIL 2020).21 In the Yemen peace process in 2016–​2017, negotiated efforts to preserve the functioning of key state institutions helped maintain the provision of services, ensured space for inter-​g roup collaboration and sought to minimise instability in any post-​agreement period. The initiative built on the realisation, which emerged from the numerous civil society dialogues, that while the state was split, most of the technical departments of the social service ministries continued to function and collaborate across front lines. The efforts to support state institutions, which resulted from a collaboration between the Office of UN Special Envoy, the UN Resident Coordinator and the World Bank, leveraged the financial and programme implementation capacity of the World Bank and UN agencies, and benefited from the political space and acceptance negotiated by the Office of the Special Envoy. Backed by numerous consultations with commercial and banking elites allied with different sides in the conflict, the collaboration secured the resumption of national poverty alleviation mechanisms, the reactivation of the national mechanisms for funding labour-​intensive development projects and the creation of a trade financing facility to ensure continued exports despite the failing banking system.The involvement of the Office of the Special Envoy allowed the support for state institutions to be conducted in a coordinated way on both sides of the front lines and negotiated respect for programme integrity with non-​state armed groups with whom the World Bank had no engagement.22 The initiative also sought to enable agreements on the functioning of a single central bank and national salary payments, which were in the end not successful. Preserving state institutions and preventing their collapse during war can help avoid debilitating and potentially violent competition following agreements. The collapse of state institutions increases the likelihood of violent competition for the patronage opportunities in the process of re-​staffing state institutions. Given the failure of the Kuwait and subsequent negotiations, it is impossible to know if it would have made a significant difference, but efforts to preserve the functioning and popular accountability of state institutions during conflict should reduce the scope of this competition, particularly where there are very limited employment opportunities outside of the state sector. Investments in the functioning and inclusivity of state institutions have commonly been a feature of Missions mandated to support the restoration of state authority, such as MINUSCA, MINUSMA and UNMISS (until 2014). The parameters of these investments are often based on national agreements, regardless of the drawbacks of the agreements noted above.There should be space to consider investments in state institutions which are outside of agreement’s deals and more based on negotiations with diverse communities. Although not covered in the R-​ARCSS, investments in the inclusivity and functioning of local administration in South Sudan provided opportunities to help reduce de-​stabilising local conflicts.23 The country’s descent into civil war soon after independence, combined with rampant corruption, discredited the Juba-​based

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political elites, who continue to dominate the central government in the power-​ sharing arrangements contained in the R-​ARCSS. With little leverage and few opportunities to effectively contribute to much needed reforms in central state institutions, efforts to promote inclusive and effective governance at the local level provided a way for the mission to support local efforts to reduce violence and provide models of inclusive governance. Effective interventions are often not possible precisely where they are most needed, particularly in security sector reform. The post-​independence security sector in South Sudan has been unsustainably large and the centre of state corruption. Government and military leaders adamantly refused to allow international partners to engage effectively in reform discussions, despite its centrality to the risk of future conflict.24 The lack of transparency, as well as the UN mission’s lack of political leverage, forced the mission to explore other avenues where it could effectively engage to enhance inclusive governance. Regional and international pressure, as well as effective mission level outreach, has created more space for constructive engagement in the security sector in other contexts. For several years before the February 2019 peace agreement, MINUSCA worked with the Central African government to build the inclusivity of the security forces. Ethnic favouritism in the security sector, as well as the exclusion of groups from the country’s mostly Muslim Northeast, had long been a source of tension and instability. With support from MINUSCA and the European Union Training Mission, the Central African government in 2018 was able to institute recruitment quotas, which favoured traditionally excluded Muslim majority areas of the country, targets for recruitment of women and merit-​based recruitment systems for the first time in the country’s history. This approach allowed for greater inclusivity, professionalism and accountability in the armed forces, although it was opposed by the armed groups who wanted to control recruitment and their lines of authority over military units. At the local level, MINUSCA worked with newly redeployed police and military to build more constructive relations with minority communities and functioning accountability mechanisms. Unfortunately, with the deterioration of the relations between the peacekeeping mission and the government following the breakdown of the 2019 agreement, the opportunity for longer-​term impact of this approach evaporated. Investments in state institutions, particularly when negotiated with diverse political and social leaders, can help mitigate social and economic collapse and preserve core state functioning during conflict. Following agreements, opportunities to support continued negotiation of the parameters of changes in state practice between different communities should be explored rather than merely inheriting the prescriptions of weak peace agreements.

The Politics of Protecting Civilians Since 1999, most peacekeeping operations have been tasked with protecting civilians and many special political missions also see reducing violence as part of their objectives. Despite political engagement being one of the three approaches highlighted in

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the UN Department of Peace Operation’s Protection of Civilians Guidelines, most protection of civilian strategies emphasise lobbying of armed actors, and dissemination of standards, alongside of technical and military responses.25 There is considerable room for peace operations’ strategies to better align protection of civilian strategies with mission’s political approaches and exploit synergies in their attempts to reduce violence. While many protection of civilians’ strategies include early warning and information gathering mechanisms, the violence is rarely contextualised. In most cases the violence is described and the actors committing it are identified, but the utility of the violence for the perpetrators remains unexamined. The lack of understanding of the motivations for the violence creates severe limitations for the development of appropriate strategies based on dialogue negotiation and programmatic interventions to prevent threats to civilians. It also condemns missions to remain in a largely reactive posture, unable to imagine interventions to change the dynamic of violence.26 MINUSCA identified economic predation as one of the principal sources of violence against civilians. This included extortion, illicit taxation as well as looting and is a common phenomenon in many other contexts in which peace operations are deployed. Although consistent with extensive research about armed groups’ motivation over the last two decades, (Collier et al. 2009, Collier et al. 2005), peace operations have struggled to develop appropriate responses to violent predation, which is a major source of funding for non-​state armed groups, and occasionally, government forces. Peace operations have often treated these illicit activities as more of an economic or developmental challenge rather than as a threat to civilians. The experience of this predation by civilians argues for a different approach. The arbitrary taxation of farmers at checkpoints established between their fields and markets, as is common in the many recent conflicts, drives families into malnutrition and destitution. The checkpoints conducting this extortion frequently expose women and girls to sexual violence and other forms of abuse. The impact of these types of violent predation deserves a more aggressive and consistent response. Reactive strategies to impede these forms of violence are often highly inadequate. Illicit taxation is often conducted at light checkpoints which are easily moved to avoid peacekeepers. Understanding the mechanisms for recruiting, financing and mobilising non-​state armed actors allows the development of more sophisticated strategies. In 2018 and early 2019, after identifying a pattern of abuse by a particular armed group, MINUSCA launched military and police action which severely undermined the groups’ ability to impose illicit taxation, in coordination with pre-​existing local inter-​communal dialogues and programmatic tools to provide alternatives to fighters engaged in these practices. In the many contexts where violence is driven by competition for control over local economic resources or political control, local dialogue and negotiation can be an important component of protection of civilians’ strategies as well as strategies to build more stable, inclusive and less violent political orders as noted above.

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The use of force to end the violent economic predation has obvious limitations and creates clear dilemmas for peacekeeping missions which never have sufficient military capacity to end this type of abuse throughout a country. MINUSCA chose to use this strategy only in a limited number of high population density settings where the abuses affected the most people. For most of these armed groups, violent economic predation was their principal means of sustaining their organisation and in some cases their fundamental raison d’etre. Confronting their violent predation was critical for improving the protection of civilians, but it also strategically undermined the viability of the armed group. As such it can make an important contribution to the protection of civilians, and can increase the relative attractiveness of negotiated solutions. But the strategic weakening of one party in a conflict is a level of partisanship which tests the limits of the peacekeeping mandate. While there is a need to ensure that protection of civilians is not sacrificed to political objectives, there is a potential for greater benefits in both areas by better aligning these priorities. The implementation of many peace agreements also requires broader mechanisms to contribute to the protection of civilians more effectively. Most ceasefires and cessation of hostilities agreements, consistent with the mediation-​ centric tradition, have tended to focus on stopping violent engagements between belligerents. Common indicators of success in these agreements are battle deaths which occur during confrontations between the signatories to the agreements27. These agreements and indicators can be important in the search for comprehensive agreements, but they have real limitations as an instrument of reducing violence in conflicts plagued with violence related to local issues or violent economic predation as is common in conflicts with weakly structured and fragmented belligerents. Ceasefires more clearly negotiated and implemented to serve affected populations are often necessary. The long-​delayed implementation of the R-​ARCSS was accompanied by a severe escalation of violence in many states. The official ceasefire monitoring and verification mechanisms refrained from analysing or monitoring this violence, claiming that communal violence was outside of the scope of the peace agreement.28 The exclusion of sub-​national or communal violence from the ceasefire provisions was difficult for South Sudanese to understand as it generated the bulk of civilian casualties and involved fighters who frequently allied with the formal belligerents. To better ensure that ceasefire arrangements served affected communities, MINUSCA mobilised existing local conflict management platforms to serve as the foundation of local monitoring efforts. These platforms, which brought together local government, the diverse armed groups in an area as well as women’s associations and civil society leaders, sought to overcome the absence of effective command and control within the armed groups themselves.

Re-​imagining Civil Society Dialogue Mediation-​ centric approaches have long been criticised for the non-​ inclusive nature of most peace processes which have systematically excluded women and

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civilians more generally. While there has been some limited progress in gaining broader inclusivity, the substance of most processes remains dominated by militarily active groups regardless of their social base. Some processes, such as the 2019 CAR peace process, even invited armed groups which were no longer militarily active, but still excluded civilian groups. Many scholars and observers have highlighted the ethical challenges created by granting primacy to militarily active groups to the exclusion of other social categories and emphasised that these processes sought merely to reduce violence rather than build peace.29 The frequent inability of agreements focused on belligerents to successfully deliver a reduction of violence, or the creation of more stable political orders makes the compromise appear even less justified. For many years, peace processes have sought expanded inclusion via the organisation of parallel civil society dialogues or Track II processes. In most cases, these have been small scale, provided very limited opportunities to contribute substantively, or have been used to sell unpopular agreements. In many processes, they were seen as window-​dressing intended to give a veneer of popular participation to the “real” discussions about power, division of rents and control over the security apparatus conducted between the belligerents.Very often the conduct of these Track II processes was relegated to non-​governmental organisations (NGOs) with little strategic or design coordination with other “more important” negotiating tracks. Particularly in contexts featuring weakly structured, fragmented and incohesive armed groups, there is an opportunity and need to expand the involvement of non-​belligerents and make them more central to the overall peace process. Expanded dialogues can be used strategically to overcome the severe obstacles to the negotiation and implementation of agreements in conflicts in which weakly structured and incohesive groups dominate. Where well prepared and designed to ensure effective representation of key societal components, these processes have the potential to provide a more viable centre of gravity for peace processes, which negotiations with fragmented and incohesive belligerents lack. They also have the potential to provide broader and more substantive input to the development of proposals and agreements which are more rooted in popular aspirations, and societal balance of power and help avoid the narrow power sharing agreements that have proven so unsuccessful in the past. Recent innovations have shown the potential of more decentralised processes. To better adapt the peace process to the proliferation of armed groups and militias in Libya, UNSMIL developed a multi-​layered approach, including local dialogues and conferences of municipal leaders, and dedicated tracks on economic issues. A security track focused on ceasefire arrangements was structured around the two dominant military coalitions. In contrast, the Political Dialogue Forum, which focused on the creation of a transitional government and electoral arrangements, was built around geographic, political and gender representation as well. To overcome some of the logistic, staffing and managerial limitations of the UN system,

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UNSMIL relied on external groups, such as the Humanitarian Dialogue Centre, to conduct some tracks and their supporting mechanisms. To overcome the weaknesses of negotiations dominated by the Ansar Allah and the Government of Yemen, the Office of the Special Envoy worked with partners to support a series of dialogues with civil society. The dialogues included hundreds of consultations in Yemen and abroad with senior community, tribal, women, business leaders and academics many months in advance of the negotiations.These consultations formed the basis for many of the substantive proposals of the Special Envoy, created dynamic mechanisms for women’s input into the process and served as a tool for building acceptance and understanding of potential areas of compromise. Dedicated tracks focused on Yemeni business and commercial leaders helped define and support programmatic interventions to maintain the functioning of key state social service and economic institutions. Like UNSMIL, OSESGY relied on partnerships with UN Women and international dialogue groups, such as the Berghof Foundation, which had long-​standing relations with Yemeni civil society to conduct and lead these consultations. The Office of the Special Envoy had neither the field presence nor the staff capable of such a large endeavour. More importantly, the principal belligerents in the conflict would have obstructed the consultations, possibly with violence had they had the official stamp of the UN. Long-​term, deliberate, strategic partnerships between multilateral organisations and national or international dialogue groups are often essential for peace process to effectively expand dialogue but they remain the exception rather than the rule. Many peace operations fear that the involvement of independent third parties will lead to a loss of control over the process. Many complain that the growth of third parties has created a “crowded field” which makes coordination difficult and forum shopping a chronic threat. While there is no doubt that some organisations have deliberately sought to compete rather than coordinate, favoured donor interests or media opportunities, these problems have been best avoided by early strategic coordination and agreements on division of labour. More challenging still will be generating the tolerance of belligerents, both government and non-​state armed groups, to allow broader processes to unfold and to provide the foundation for different types of agreements. Many governments insist that they alone can represent popular opinions and all their diversity. Many non-​state armed groups have fought and killed for a seat at the table and will be reluctant to allow others to input particularly where this might threaten the potential benefits for individual non-​state armed group leaders in a process. The efforts to promote more effective inclusion are also limited by the tendency to promote presence for its symbolic rather than substantive value. This can be seen in the emphasis on numbers of participants rather than an emphasis on lines of political and moral authority within communities. Decentralising peace processes and allowing multiple levels of dialogue and negotiation should be explored to provide broader inclusion and a process design which overcomes the limitations seen in processes with weakly structured belligerents.

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The Peace Operations, Peace Processes and the Limits of Mediation The allure of mediation as the centre of international strategies remains strong. It appears to provide cheap and rapid solutions to horrific and intractable problems. This is often justified in conflicts with coherent and structured belligerents who have the capacity to both negotiate and implement agreements. In these situations, the mediation of national agreements has often provided a mechanism for ending conflict and framing transition. These conflicts, however, are fewer and fewer, as conflicts with less coherent or structured actors have become dominant, particularly where multilateral peace operations and peace processes are deployed. As a result, the hopes placed on mediation and national peace agreements often far exceed what they can achieve. Far too often the promotion of mediation-​centric approaches by the international community is based on wishful thinking and a wilful neglect of the nature, characteristics and capacity of armed groups. The international community frequently sees weakly structured belligerents as coherent and unified political actors, despite a deep reliance on economic predation and lack of capacity for effective decision-​making, negotiation or execution. Strategies often relied on the assumption that agreements, like treaties, will be held sacred, despite the frequency of spurious agreements signed with little intention or capacity to implement them. Agreements which fail to reduce violence or generate political stability impose a high cost and undermine faith in negotiated solutions and limit space for alternative strategies. The record of recent year gives us cause to approach peace agreements with greater scepticism. Negotiations with weakly structured, incohesive groups rarely produce solid agreements capable of framing political progress. In the future, there is a need for more serious evaluation of the nature of belligerents and the capacity of agreements to create a foundation for change, as well as an early understanding of what complementary types of support a process will need. This will require the international community to be more cautious when separating the task of negotiating agreements from the task of supporting their implementation. Separating these functions leaves the mediating entity little incentive to prioritise the agreement’s longer-​term viability and positive impact over the attainment of an agreement. Calls for peace operations and peace processes to be more people centred and more inclusive have grown in recent years. And there has been some important progress in bringing more women into peace processes and peacebuilding, as well as important research on options for improving inclusion.30 Given the worrying and painful rate of failure of peace processes, we should look into inclusion strategies to help overcome the challenges of peace processes with groups lacking structure and cohesion and generate more effective outcomes. In conflict with numerous, weakly structured and incohesive belligerents, just bringing more and better actors around a flawed table will not be sufficient. Alternative, more

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inclusive process designs, which decentralise dialogue and negotiation, should be explored early in the process, not only as a means of limiting the damage of failed agreements. The push for greater inclusion should enable a rethinking of the design of peace processes so that they are less dependent on unstable negotiations and agreements with weak belligerents and more rooted in decentralised negotiations with leaders from diverse communities. Rather than establishing the conclusion of agreements between belligerents as the primary objective, peace processes and peace operations should be directed to focus on impact, in terms of reduced violence, more stable polities and inclusive governance. This will encourage peace operations to design more suitable peace processes, and mechanisms of ensuring progress, mobilising a range of tools, including mediation. Rather than overselling the magic of mediation, the international community will have to recognise these conflicts do not have easy and quick solutions. More effective peace processes will need to be allowed more time to unfold and, in many cases, will require greater resources so that dialogue and negotiations can be advanced at multiple levels and fora rather than focusing on a single table. Peace operations strategies in the future will need to look beyond an agreement’s provisions and see what complementary approaches are necessary to promote tangible progress. Conflicts have evolved in dangerous ways over the last decades, making them harder to resolve and more dangerous for the people who live in them. It is critical that peace operations adapt as well.

Notes 1 The author worked for UN Peace Operations in CAR, South Sudan and Yemen as well as the Joint AU/​UN Mediation in Sudan. The perspectives related to these conflicts, except where noted, derive from that experience. 2 A/​RES/​65/​283, 28 July 2011, UN Document. 3 United Nations, Uniting Our Strengths for Peace: Politics, Partnerships and People, Report of the UN High-​Level Independent Panel on Peace Operations (New York: UN, June 2015). 4 Arnault, Jean “A Background on the Report of the High-​Level Independent Panel on United Nations Peace Operations,” Global Peace Operations Review, 2015, https://​peaceo​ pera​tion​srev​iew.org/​thema​tic-​ess​ays/​a-​bac​kgro​und-​to-​the-​rep​ort-​of-​the-​high-​level-​ panel-​on-​peace-​ope​rati​ons/​ 5 United Nations Security Council, Resolution 2378, 2017. 6 Kathleen Cunningham. “Actor Fragmentation and Civil War Bargaining: How Internal Divisions Generate Civil Conflict.” American Journal of Political Science. vol. 57. no. 3, 2013; Barbara Walter. “The New New Civil Wars.” Annual Review of Political Science. vol. 20, 2017. 7 William Zartman. “The Timing of Peace Initiatives: Hurting Stalemates and Ripe Moments.” The Global Review of Ethnopolitics. vol. 1. no. 1, 2001. 8 Alan Duursma and Feike Fliervoet. “Fueling Factionalism? The Impact of Peace Processes on Rebel Group Fragmentation in Civil Wars.” Journal of Conflict Resolution. 2021; 65(4); Boswell, Alan. Conflict and Crisis in South Sudan’s Equatoria. USIP 2021.

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9 Christia Fotini. Alliance Formation in Civil Wars. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012. 10 Paul Staniland. Networks of Rebellion: Explaining Insurgent Cohesion and Collapse. New York: Cornell University Press, 2014. 11 International Peace Information Service. Central African Republic: A Conflict Mapping. Antwerp: International Peace Information Service, 2018; Schouten, Peer. “Roadblock Politics in Central Africa.” Society and Space, vol. 37, no. 5, 2019. 12 Andreas Mehler. “Peace and Power Sharing in Africa: A Not So Obvious Relationship.” African Affairs, vol. 108, no. 432, 2009. 13 Joshua Craze. The Politics of Numbers: On Security Sector Reform in South Sudan, 2005-​ 2020. London: Centre for Public Authority and International Development, London School of Economics, 2020. 14 Tatiana Carayannis and Mignonne Fowlis.“Lessons from African Union–​United Nations Cooperation in Peace Operations in the Central African Republic.” African Security Review, vol. 26, no. 2, 2017. 15 Charles T. Hunt and David Curran. “Stabilization at the Expense of Peacebuilding in UN Peacekeeping Operations: More than just a Phase?” Global Governance, vol. 26, no. 1, 46–​68, 2020. 16 Stathis Kalyvas, The Logic of Violence in Civil War (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006). 17 Staniland, Networks of Rebellion. 18 Séverine Autesserre, The Trouble with the Congo: Local Violence and the Failure of International Peacebuilding. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010. 19 Alan Boswell, “Conflict and Crisis in South Sudan’s Equatoria.” USIP 2021. 20 United Nations, “Libya: Strategic Assessment Process,” Unpublished Report, 2017. 21 United Nations, “United Nations Support Mission in Libya: Report of the Secretary General,” S/​2020/​360, 2020. 22 Lydiah Bosire. “The UN-​World Bank Partnership in Yemen: Lessons Learned from the Deployment of a UN-​World Bank Advisor in the Office of the Special Envoy of the Secretary-​General.” Unpublished Report, 2018. 23 United Nations. “Report on the Independent Strategic Review of the United Nations Mission in South Sudan Pursuant to Security Council Resolution 2514,” 2020. 24 Craze, “The Politics of Numbers”. 25 United Nations Department of Peace Operations. “Protection of Civilians Guidelines,” 2019. 26 Muggah, Robert, Ntanga Ntita, and Jean de Dieu, “Reducing Community Violence in the Central African Republic – The Case of Bria”, Small Wars Journal, August 2018, https://smallwarsjournal.com/jrnl/art/reducing-community-violence- central-africanrepublic-case-bria. 27 Govinda Clayton, Laurie Nathan, and Claudia Wiehler. “Ceasefire Success: A Conceptual Framework.” International Peacekeeping, vol. 28, no. 3, 2021. 28 Author interview with senior officials from the Ceasefire & Transitional Security Arrangements Monitoring & Verification Mechanism and Reconstituted Joint Monitoring and Evaluation Commission, August 2020. 29 Séverine Autesserre. “The Crisis of Peacekeeping: Why the UN Can’t End Wars”, Foreign Affairs, January/​ February 2019; Marie O’Reilly, Andrea Ó Súilleabháin, and Thania Paffenholz. Reimagining Peacemaking: Women’s Roles in Peace Processes. New York: International Peace Institute, June 2015. 30 Paffenholz, Thania. “Civil Society and Peace Negotiations: Beyond the Inclusion–​ Exclusion Dichotomy,” Negotiation Journal, vol. 1, no. 30, 2014.

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Bibliography Arnault, Jean, “A Background on the Report of the High-​Level Independent Panel on United Nations Peace Operations”, Global Peace Operations Review, 2015, pp. 36–​43, https://​peaceo​pera​tion​srev​iew.org/​thema​tic-​ess​ays/​a-​bac​kgro​und-​to-​the-​rep​ort-​of-​ the-​high-​level-​panel-​on-​peace-​ope​rati​ons/​ Autesserre, Séverine, “The Crisis of Peacekeeping: Why the UN Can’t End Wars.” Foreign Affairs, vol. 98, no. 1, January/​February 2019, pp. 101–​116. Autesserre, Séverine, The Trouble with the Congo: Local Violence and the Failure of International Peacebuilding (New York, Cambridge University Press, 2010). Bakke, Kristin, “A Plague of Initials: Fragmentation, Cohesion, and Infighting in Civil Wars”, Perspectives on Politics, vol. 10, no. 2, 2012, pp. 265–​283. Bosire, Lydiah, The UN-​World Bank Partnership in Yemen: Lessons Learned from the Deployment of a UN-​World Bank Advisor in the Office of the Special Envoy of the Secretary-​General, Unpublished report, 2018. Boswell, Alan, “Conflict and Crisis in South Sudan’s Equatoria”, United States Institute of Peace, 2021. Carayannis, Tatiana and Mignonne Fowlis. “Lessons from African Union–​United Nations Cooperation in Peace Operations in the Central African Republic”, African Security Review, vol. 26, no. 2, 2017, pp. 220–​237. Clayton, Govinda, Laurie Nathan, and Claudia Wiehler, “Ceasefire Success: A Conceptual Framework.” International Peacekeeping, vol. 28, no. 3, 2021, pp. 341–​365. Collier, Paul, Anke Hoeffler and Dominic Rohner,“Beyond Greed and Grievance: Feasibility and Civil War”, Oxford Economic Papers, vol. 61, no. 1, 2009, pp. 1–​27. Collier, Paul, Anke Hoeffler, and Nicholas Sambanis, “The Collier-​Hoeffler Model of Civil War Onset and the Case Study Project Research Design”, in Paul Collier and Nicolas Sambanis (eds.), Understanding Civil War (Washington, DC: World Bank, 2005), pp. 1–​34. Craze, Joshua The Politics of Numbers: On Security Sector Reform in South Sudan, 2005-​2020 (London: Centre for Public Authority and International Development, London School of Economics, 2020). Cunningham, Kathleen, “Actor Fragmentation and Civil War Bargaining: How Internal Divisions Generate Civil Conflict”, American Journal of Political Science, vol. 57. no. 3, 2013, pp. 659–​672. Curran, David, and Charles Hunt and “Stabilization at the Expense of Peacebuilding in UN Peacekeeping Operations: More than Just a Phase?” Global Governance, vol. 26, no. 1, 2020, pp. 46–​68. Duursma, Alan and Feike Fliervoet, “Fueling Factionalism? The Impact of Peace Processes on Rebel Group Fragmentation in Civil Wars”, Journal of Conflict Resolution, vol. 65, no. 4, 2021. Fotini, Christia, Alliance Formation in Civil Wars (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). Gorur, Aditi, The Political Strategy of the UN Peacekeeping Mission in the Central African Republic in Adam Day, Aditi Gorur, Victoria K. Holt and Charles T. Hunt (eds.), The Political Practice of Peacekeeping: How Strategies for Peace Operations Are Developed and Implemented (New York: United Nations University, 2020), pp. 94–​117. International Peace Information Service, Central African Republic: A Conflict Mapping (Antwerp: International Peace Information Service, 2018). Kalyvas, Stathis, The Logic of Violence in Civil War (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006).

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Mehler, Andreas, “Peace and Power Sharing in Africa: A Not So Obvious Relationship”, African Affairs, vol. 108, no. 432, 2009, pp. 453–​473. Muggah, Robert, Ntanga Ntita, and Jean de Dieu, “Reducing Community Violence in the Central African Republic –​The Case of Bria”, Small Wars Journal, August 2018, https://​ small​wars​jour​nal.com/​jrnl/​art/​reduc​ing-​commun​ity-​viole​nce-​cent​ral-​afri​can-​repub​ lic-​case-​bria O’Reilly, Marie, Andrea Ó Súilleabháin, and Thania Paffenholz, Reimagining Peacemaking: Women’s Roles in Peace Processes (New York: International Peace Institute, June 2015). Paffenholz, Thania, “Civil Society and Peace Negotiations: Beyond the Inclusion–​Exclusion Dichotomy”, Negotiation Journal, vol. 30, no. 1, 2014, pp. 69–​91. Schouten, Peer, “Roadblock Politics in Central Africa”, Society and Space, vol. 37, no. 5, 2019, pp. 924–​941. Staniland, Paul, Networks of Rebellion: Explaining Insurgent Cohesion and Collapse (New York: Cornell University Press, 2014). United Nations, “Libya: Strategic Assessment Process”, unpublished report (2017). United Nations, Uniting Our Strengths for Peace: Politics, Partnerships and People, Report of the UN High-​Level Independent Panel on Peace Operations (New York: UN, June 2015). United Nations, A/​RES/​65/​283, “Strengthening the Role of Mediation in the Peaceful Settlement of Disputes, Conflict Prevention and Resolution”, 2011. United Nations, S/​2020/​360. “United Nations Support Mission in Libya: Report of the Secretary General”, 2020. United Nations, S/​2020/​1224, “Report on the Independent Strategic Review of the United Nations Mission in South Sudan Pursuant to Security Council Resolution 2514”, 2020. United Nations, S/​RES/​2378, Security Council Resolution 2378, 2017. United Nations Department of Peace Operations,“Protection of Civilians Guidelines”, 2019. Walter, Barbara, “The New New Civil Wars”, Annual Review of Political Science, vol. 20, 2017, pp. 469–​486. Zartman,William,“The Timing of Peace Initiatives: Hurting Stalemates and Ripe Moments”, The Global Review of Ethnopolitics, vol. 1, no. 1, 2001, pp. 8–​18.

4 ENGAGING WITH POLITICAL ELITES AND NON-​STATE ARMED GROUPS A Mission Perspective Alan Doss

The Conjuror’s Art War is ruinous. The International Monetary Fund (IMF) calculated that during twenty years of civil war Liberia lost about 80 per cent of its gross domestic product (GDP).1 But not everyone loses out. The breakdown of the rule of law and state regulation provides opportunity for political elites and armed groups to enrich themselves while most people slide further into poverty. I worked in several United Nations (UN) peace operations where we confronted this grim reality. In Sierra Leone, the Revolutionary United Front (RUF) led a scorched earth campaign, seizing anything of value, including the infamous blood diamonds; the plunder provided sustenance for the RUF rank and file and envied perks for commanders. I vividly recall a meeting with Issa Sesay, the young RUF commander (now serving a lengthy sentence for war crimes), during which he proudly displayed his latest acquisition –​a brand-​new SUV painted in a lively shade of canary yellow, a startling contrast with the drab poverty that surrounded us. Political elites in positions of influence and power could be equally predatory. In countries like Liberia, the well-​placed gained monopoly concessions for essential imports like food or licenses to operate mobile phone networks, while others were implicated in mineral trafficking and the appropriation of state assets. Where violent conflict vitiates any semblance of lawful regulation, the powerful, and those with connections to power, can use the political economy for political or private purpose free of the constraints and accountability imposed in a well-​regulated state. Nevertheless, despite our misgivings about their legitimacy and credibility, we obviously could not ignore these elites and armed groups even though they often proved to be uncertain and unreliable interlocutors. They were unavoidable denominators in the equation of peace; they could set the “price for DOI: 10.4324/9781003248637-5

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peace” through their capacity to frame –​or undermine –​the political and economic incentives for peace. So, we had to engage and run the risk of being tarnished by association. My job was to somehow find the ways and means of enlisting these actors in the journey towards peace, even though for some that goal was inimical to their interests. Along with my mission colleagues, I had to fathom and fashion incentives –​or penalties –​to persuade powerful elites and violent armed groups to cooperate in the peace process, or at least dissuade them from wrecking it. In doing so, however, we had to operate within the confines and the constraints of Security Council mandates. Those mandates uphold the principle of state sovereignty and national consent (even though the governments concerned were not in full control of the national territory), while also calling for interventions that were sometimes at odds with that principle. We also had to contend with state agents, notably national security forces, which preyed on civilians, and collaborated with rebels and other traffickers in the trading of resources and the sale of weapons. Although mandated by the Security Council, our efforts to improve the performance of these forces in countries such as the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) earned us the opprobrium of human rights activists, and indeed the Council itself became increasingly nervous about our operational engagement with them.2 The multidimensional nature of contemporary peace operations, and the contradictions implicit in their mandates, is a far cry from the earlier practice of peacekeeping –​essentially the static deployment of UN blue helmets between warring states. Dealing with the political economy and its impact on the prospects for peace added a whole new layer of complexity to UN peace operations for which, in retrospect, we were not well prepared. This chapter, which draws on my experience of mission leadership in Sierra Leone, Cote d’Ivoire, Liberia and the DRC, offers a mission perspective on the policy, operational, and moral challenges and dilemmas for peace operations that arise from such complexity. I look first at the actors in the political economy with which UN peace missions must engage, including those with unsavoury reputations. Next, I examine the Security Council’s acknowledgement of the political economy as a driver of conflict and the policy responses that have emerged to respond to that reality. I then consider how missions become enmeshed in the political economy as they seek to fulfil their mandates, and the tensions and dilemmas they face as a result. In that context, I review some of the operational interventions that UN missions have pursued to manage the challenges of the political economy, including incentives for peaceable behaviour, while supporting political avenues out of violence. In conclusion, I reflect on mission strategies, structure and staffing. I ask if they are fit for the challenges to peace created by unaccountable political elites and non-​state armed actors operating in the political economy of countries fractured by violent conflict.

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Spoilers and Survivors: Conflict Actors and the Political Economy The appellation “political elites” and “armed non-​state armed groups” covers a multitude of individuals, organisations, associations, institutions and groups active in society at national and local levels. They harbour disparate ambitions and aims driven by an eclectic mix of ideological, religious, political, ethnic and pecuniary motives. The power of political elites does not necessarily flow from legitimacy bestowed by an electoral mandate or through state-​sanctioned authority. Although UN peace operations, including the ones I served in, usually advocate for democratic elections, in many societies, legitimacy is bestowed by traditional hierarchy or by religious authority. Majoritarian rule based on electoral results may be accepted with reluctance, or possibly not all, if the outcome does not recognise or reflect those realities. The traditional chiefs in Sierra Leone, for example, are powerful figures in the rural areas. In settling disputes over land and family matters, the chiefs’ decisions are law. They became targets for the insurgency of the RUF, which sought to replace them with their own appointees. As the civil war in Sierra Leone came to an end, the UN Assistance Mission in Sierra Leone (UNAMSIL) helped facilitate the return of the chiefs to their fiefdoms, even though we knew that some were unpopular because of their autocratic and avaricious ways.3 The government was convinced, however, that the return of the chiefs would promote stability, and the mission, despite some misgivings, went along with that decision. Next door, in neighbouring Liberia, the descendants of the African-​American settlers who colonised the country in the early 19th century became the dominant but minority elite that monopolised political and commercial power to the exclusion of the vast majority of the indigenous population.4 An army coup in 1980 sparked twenty years of intermittent warfare, ending finally with the 2003 Accra peace agreement.5 But that peace came at a price; the armed groups were awarded positions in a transitional government along with some of the members of the ousted regime of former president, Charles Taylor. Notwithstanding our reservations, we had to work with that transitional government, which became a by-​word for corruption and incompetence. But the peace held, aided by the strong and robust presence of UN Mission in Liberia (UNMIL), the UN peacekeeping mission deployed in support of the peace agreement. A decisive feature of the Accra agreement, which African regional powers brokered and monitored, was that it banned members of the transitional government from running for office in the national elections that ended the transition. The former leaders of the armed groups stepped down, and UNMIL was on hand to ensure that they did not remobilise. However, the price of peace was pillage by decree as ministers made the most of their limited time in office. The label “non-​state armed groups”, like the term “political elites”, is a flexible definition that includes groups of varying sizes, capacity and intent; some have been designated as terrorist organisations, while others are armed criminal gangs

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with essentially transactional motives (drug smuggling, kidnapping for ransom, for instance). In some conflict zones like the Sahel region of West Africa, disparate armed groups cooperate with each other (and even with government forces) in loose alliances of predatory conveniences.6 In each of the peace operations where I was assigned, we had to contend with an assortment of non-​state armed actors propelled by a variety of motives. These groups ranged from ethnic Mayi-​Mayi self-​defence militias in the eastern DRC to much larger groups with a national political agenda like the Forces Nouvelles (FN) in Cote d’Ivoire, which, at the peak of its power, controlled the northern half of the country. In Sierra Leone, we faced competing non-​state armed groups. On one side were the Civil Defence Forces, essentially an alliance of ethnically based militias, including the Kamajors (traditional hunters) fighting as a proxy for the government, and on the other side, the RUF. These groups committed awful atrocities and indulged in economic exploitation; nevertheless, we had to bring them into the peace process. The conflict in the Kivu and Ituri provinces of the eastern DRC is a depressing and persistent example of predatory violence generated by local elites and ethnic groups. The rapacious behaviour of the state security forces, and armed exiles from neighbouring countries, all competing for the control of land, minerals and other resources, magnified the mayhem.7 As the Special Representative, I spent a great deal of my time commuting between Kinshasa and the Kivus as the UN Mission in the Congo (MONUC) tried, often unsuccessfully, to contain the outbreaks of violence, which also threatened to embroil Rwanda, Uganda and Burundi as they sought to protect their strategic, ethnic and commercial interests in the region. One size certainly did not fit all these warring groups in the Congo, or elsewhere for that matter. Each set of conflict actors –​elites and armed groups alike –​must be assessed in the specific context of the region or locality where they are operating; this should be the starting point for any strategy to end violence and build peace.

The Challenges of the Political Economy: Framing UN Policy Responses The illegal capture and exploitation of economic resources by political elites and armed groups in times of conflict is not a new challenge for UN peace operations. More than two decades ago, the diamond trafficking that fuelled conflict in Angola and Sierra Leone, attracted global attention leading to international action to curb the trade.8 In the years since, as the linkage between conflict and the depredations of the political economy has become ever more apparent, the issue of resource governance has moved up the Security Council’s agenda. Three recurring concerns about the political economy now feature in the mandates of the major UN peace operations. The first is the poor performance of national authorities responsible for economic and financial management. The second is the capture and illegal exploitation of natural resources for partisan or

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private purpose by elites and armed groups. The third concern relates to rent-​ seeking through corrupt practices. In response to the first concern, the Council has encouraged UN peace operations to support economic reform as an integral dimension of peace and state building. In Libya, for example, the UN Support Mission in Libya (UNSMIL) facilitated an intra-​Libyan economic dialogue based on a road map, which “provides a set of priority economic reforms required to establish a durable economic arrangement”,9 and assisted a financial audit at the Central Bank of Libya, which the Secretary General expects to “significantly increase transparency in the management of public funds”.10 Similar calls have been made by the Council for the UN Assistance Mission in Somalia (UNSOM) in Somalia to “provide support and strategic policy advice to bolster the FGS’s [Federal Somali Government] ability to deliver services and attract investment” and “to strengthen revenue mobilisation, resource allocation, budget execution, and anti-​corruption measures”.11 With regard to the second concern –​resource capture –​the dimensions of the problem have been mapped out by organisations like the Global Initiative against Transnational Organized Crime, which has estimated that the illicit exploitation of natural resources represents almost 40 per cent of the illicit financial flows to armed groups in conflict.12 The UN has focused on high-​value natural resources that provide a steady cash flow for conflict actors (and organised crime). In Libya, for example, the Secretary General has noted that “Criminal syndicates, including those involved in the smuggling of petrol to neighbouring countries, pose a direct threat to the rule of law and undermine efforts to restore stability”.13 This prompted the Council to call for the management of oil resources by the State “for the benefit of all Libyans”.14 Similarly, in a special report on South Sudan, the Secretary General pointed to “poor governance in the management of oil revenue”.15 Illicit drugs and drug trafficking are another significant source of revenue for armed groups and criminal gangs (as well as some political elites) that challenge the state.The Security Council expressed concern about the production and trafficking of illicit drugs in Afghanistan, “much of which supports the insurgency” and poses “a threat to peace and stability in the region and beyond.16 The Council has issued similar warnings about drug trafficking in Mali referring to the threats posed by transnational organized crime”.17 UN policy on drug production and trafficking is guided by a series of UN conventions.18 These conventions allow for the scheduling of proscribed drugs with a corresponding emphasis on interdiction, which has led, in part, to the “war on drugs”.19 However, UN peace operations are not mandated nor equipped to interdict drug production and trafficking. This is just as well: the militarised response to drug trafficking has failed to reduce drug production and trafficking –​even when substantial military resources have been allocated to that task, as was the case in Afghanistan. Finally, corruption is frequently cited by the Security Council and the Secretary General as an impediment to peace and stability.The latter has referred to “nationwide

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discontent over corruption”20 in Libya as well as in Iraq, where the Security Council noted the “Iraqi people’s legitimate demands to address corruption”.21 So too in Somalia, where the Secretary General has urged the Federal government and states to tackle corruption,22 while the Security Council has requested UNSOM to provide support and strategic policy advice to the Somali government on anti-​ corruption measures.23 Regrettably, a flood of poorly managed aid can also fuel corruption as reports, again from Afghanistan, illustrate.24 Corruption was a major source of popular discontent in all the countries where I served in peace operations. So, we strongly supported anticorruption reforms as part of the broader peacebuilding agenda, although the effectiveness of these initiatives tended to weaken over time. Moreover, as with other aspects of peacebuilding that require national “buy-​in”, there is a contextual dimension that must be considered.25 What is judged as corrupt behaviour in one society may not necessarily be viewed that way in others, particularly those rooted in patrimonial values and practices, and where local leaders are expected to advance the interests of their people, not necessarily of the country as a whole. While the Security Council and the Secretary General have frequently expressed concern about the impact of the political economy on the prospects for peace, how have UN peace operations responded to this concern? Do they have the authority and ability to take preventive action or remedial measures? What obstacles have they encountered in dealing with the elites and armed groups active in the political economy?

Spectators and Players: Aligning UN Peace Operations and the Political Economy The progressive enlargement of mission mandates in response to failings in the political economy has inexorably drawn peace operations into the deeper workings of the political economy placing them in the ambiguous position of being both spectators and players in the pursuit of peace. I have used the word “spectators” because while UN missions can object to national policies and practices that they believe are inimical to peace and stability, they cannot unilaterally overturn them.Their presence is based on national consent; they do not run the country where they are deployed. UN executive mandates in Timor Leste and Kosovo were short-​term exceptions rather than the rule. Nor would I advocate for such a role. As the United States post-​invasion takeover of the Iraqi administration showed, foreign control and ill-​judged decisions can stir up bitter national resentment that exacerbates rather than resolves problems. UN Missions are expected to remain above the political fray –​at least in public –​ even though the aims and actions of political leaders may run counter to the objectives of the mission. Presidents Kabila in the DRC and Gbagbo in Cote d’Ivoire, for example, frequently and publicly criticised the peacekeeping missions to advance their domestic political agendas (and electoral prospects). Mission leadership could

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only respond cautiously to avoid inflaming the crisis and feeding the anti-​UN narrative. These limitations do not mean that UN missions are totally impotent to effect change.They are players as well as spectators. UN missions can and do play a significant role in shaping the political economy in the interests of peace. In the first place, they interact –​nationally and locally –​with the political elites and armed groups that control or influence the political economy. Mission leaders can coax and cajole, persuade and pressure the “host” government and its opponents even though they cannot act independently to arrest and prosecute “bad actors” that run illegal rackets or confiscate economic assets. In Liberia, for example, the continuing control of major rubber estates by ex-​combatants in league with local politicians became a major concern. The government feared that the illegal harvesting and sale of raw rubber would generate revenue to buy arms (and bribe officials). We intervened with the ex-​combatants and convince them to peacefully transfer the estates to national authority, while making it clear that we were authorised to use force for that purpose if necessary. But we also persuaded the government to set up a national commission to plan for the restoration and rehabilitation of the estates and encourage investment and to protect the land rights of local communities. Secondly, through operational initiatives such as security sector reform and the protection of civilians, UN peace operations can have a beneficial impact on the functioning of the political economy, especially in areas most affected by violence.The demobilisation, disarmament and reintegration (DDR) programmes and security sector reforms in Sierra Leone and Liberia (despite some early missteps) were good examples of this dynamic. The dismantling of predatory armed groups and the restructuring of the security forces, aided by UN peacekeepers and international partners, facilitated the resumption of internal trade, which in turn helped to revitalise the rural economy on which most people depended. Finally, big peacekeeping missions have a large operational footprint in the local economy.They employ thousands of national staff in countries where paid employment is scarce. While the bulk of UN peacekeeping expenses are incurred outside of the country of deployment (mainly for the reimbursement of troops and police), there are, nonetheless, substantial expenditures for local services and supplies, as well as for the salaries and expenses of staff, bringing much needed foreign exchange into the country. Such expenditures need sensitive management. The award of UN contracts (e.g. transportation and fuel supplies) can exacerbate grievances and resentments, towards both the mission and recipients of the contracts, if they are perceived as political favouritism, or as a UN reward for political cooperation. The hiring of national staff can also become politically contentious if the UN mission is viewed as favouring one ethnic group over another. In conflict countries, where poverty levels are high and paid jobs are scarce, the hiring (or firing) of staff may well influence popular perceptions of the impartiality of peace operations.

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These observations briefly illustrate that UN peace operations are not predestined to be passive onlookers with no influence on the political economy. But what does that mean in terms of specific interventions? What is the nature and effect of such interventions? And what are the limitations and constraints that may circumscribe the effectiveness of such interventions?

Interventions in the Political Economy: Possibilities and Predicaments Mission interventions in the political economy cover a spectrum of actions ranging from the collaborative to the coercive.They may engage the highest levels of the state but also local communities far from the capital city. Collectively, these interventions fall into one or other of three categories. First, there are “apex” interventions aimed at developing or influencing national policies, which require engagement with the senior echelons of the government as well as the political opposition, and possibly the leaders of armed groups. The second category comprises interventions that tackle the links between conflict and the political economy in particular localities. The third group includes interventions that address the cross-​border dimensions of the political economy.

The National Perspective Policy changes that can move the political economy in the direction of a positive peace, and diminish the opportunity for rent seeking by elites or armed groups, are very difficult to accomplish in the middle of hostilities. The first priority for peacekeeping operations must be stopping bloodshed and protecting civilians. However, the end –​or even the cessation –​of hostilities opens up opportunities to nudge the political economy onto a more productive path. UN peace operations should encourage post-​conflict governments to move quickly to redress the more glaring failings in the political economy before popular support wanes and the political will to reform is squandered. Democratic elections that do not lead to institutional change and material improvement are likely to be the harbinger of further instability, as we have seen in Mali where the government’s failure to improve security and curb corruption has triggered popular discontent and military coups.26 Sierra Leone’s National Recovery Strategy (NRS)27 was an attempt to move in that direction. Developed as the war ended, the NRS brought together national leaders, local communities and international partners to set priorities (and benchmarks) for post-​war rehabilitation and reconstruction, district by district. The UN mission, UNAMSIL, working with the UN country team, played a central role in this exercise by using its field presence and logistics capacity to facilitate the preparation of the strategy. The NRS was intended to jump-​start post-​conflict recovery and to restore government authority to areas previously held by rebels. It largely succeeded in that ambition, although it was later faulted for leaning too

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heavily on external leadership and support, and for not engaging local society adequately.28 This was a legitimate criticism. Missions and donors want to deal with the ills that trigger conflict, but in doing so they must be careful to engage society in the decision-​making and priority setting process, and not only a small circle of government cadres. A more ambitious approach to the reform of the political economy was adopted in Liberia through the Governance and Economic Management Assistance Program (GEMAP). GEMAP was created by Liberia’s leading donor partners with the support of UNMIL and regional actors (notably Ghana and Nigeria). It aimed to assist the Liberian government to control “corruption, mitigate financial mismanagement, improve the capacity for better economic management and elevate the performance of key institutions in a post-​conflict environment for democratic and peaceful state-​building.”29 In an unusual move, the Security Council endorsed30 the initiative because of concerns that the transitional government in Liberia was squandering the opportunity to redress years of poor economic governance. As a presidential candidate, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf opposed GEMAP as an intrusion on national sovereignty. Once in office, however, she espoused the programme (and indeed chaired the GEMAP Steering Committee), which strengthened her ability to tackle the lamentable state of the public finances and rein in the rampant corruption that had flourished under both her predecessor Charles Taylor’s regime and the transitional government that succeeded him. GEMAP style interventions are not a panacea. As one assessment of GEMAP pointed out,31 the programme did not include adequate capacity building to ensure the long-​term sustainability of reforms. Nevertheless, the GEMAP reforms did put Liberia on the path to fiscal health and debt relief while empowering the government to void dubious contracts. Of course, the success of such reforms ultimately depends on national leadership. There were discussions at the time in the UN Department of Peacekeeping Operations (DPKO) about developing a similar programme in the DRC following the 2006 elections that confirmed President Kabila in office. However, as I quickly found out as the SRSG in the DRC, the Congolese leadership was not interested; unlike Liberia, the DRC government could call on its immense mineral wealth as a source of financing free of intrusive international oversight. Nevertheless, GEMAP-​ type initiatives offer countries emerging from conflict an option to rebuild public confidence and to repair some of the damage inflicted on the political economy by years of warlord economics and elite corruption. However, to avoid charges of neo-​colonialism, GEMAP-​type initiatives should be positioned to strengthen the autonomy of the state rather than as an imposition of donor conditionality.

Acting Locally While national policies and practice must set the direction for the political economy, conflict is often local in origin, triggered by communal mistrust and rivalry. In poor communities with few economic opportunities, and in the absence of an effective

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and acceptable state presence to adjudicate communal disputes, the risk of violence is ever present as people struggle for survival. I found that community-​based conciliation and dispute resolution could be an effective, relatively low-​profile way to prevent or defuse incipient violence. The larger UN peace operations usually have civil affairs units and military observers (MILOBS) deployed around the country that can spot potential conflicts. In Sierra Leone, for example, the UNAMSIL civil affairs team noticed that the progressive return of displaced persons and refugees towards the end of the war was creating new disputes as returnees sought to evict people from properties that they had left vacant during the war years. In the absence of the formal judicial system, which had largely disappeared during the war, the civil affairs team set up local committees led by respected members of those communities to adjudicate the respective claims in an amicable manner. At the same time, we used mission funding for quick impact projects to re-​build police posts, magistrate courts and community centres using local labour. These modest investments helped to restore a semblance of state presence and a sense that peace was taking hold. Ideally, such investments should be part of a strategic response to community vulnerability. Because of the staff turnover in UN missions, much of the institutional learning and network of contacts at the community level gets lost. This is why peace operations should systematically invest in developing local mediation and reconciliation capacities to build the resilience and capacity of communities to prevent violence. In the DRC, as elsewhere, there are numerous examples of how that can be done.32 Local initiatives, however, can only go so far. While support for building community resilience is certainly a worthwhile investment in violence prevention, there are limits on what can be achieved locally, absent the right signals from leadership at the top of the political pyramid. In the DRC, I attempted to set up, as part of the stabilisation programme for eastern Congo,33 a road rehabilitation scheme in North Kivu to aid rural revival (as we had done in Liberia). To my dismay, I learnt later that President Joseph Kabila was not pleased, alleging that better roads would make it easier for rebels to move around! This rebuff illustrated how political obstacles at the top can block efforts to make progress locally. But armed groups were also part of the problem too. Rebellion leaders and local defence militias were equally reluctant to commit to peace if it required them to give up their territorial gains (and the economic benefits they brought). We encountered similar dilemmas in Cote d’Ivoire, where the FN zone commanders resisted the UN Operation in Cote d’Ivoire’s (ONUCI) calls for free movement of goods and fuel supplies between the south and north of the country; they did so because they profited handsomely from their control of the trade. But the government for its part also used its control of the seaports for political purpose, including a blockade on mission resupply when it believed the UN was not sufficiently sympathetic to its cause.

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The Regional Dimension The cooperation with regional actors must be part of any strategy aimed at regulating the political economy in the national interest. As the report of the Secretary General’s Independent High-​level Panel on Peace Operations (HIPPO) pointed out in 2015, “Transnational illicit networks trafficking in drugs, weapons, people and money have embedded themselves in many conflicts, feeding on them, and fueling them with funds and weapons”.34 Gold smuggled out of the eastern DRC continues to find its way to Dubai, despite the Mineral Certification Scheme of the International Conference on the Great Lakes Region (ICGLR), which is supposed to eliminate the trading of minerals that finance conflicts in the region.35 The regional dimension of conflict presents a special challenge for nationally based peace operations. Cross-​border trafficking of resources, arms trading and support for insurgencies from neighbouring countries all contribute to the onset and prolongation of conflict. But these problems are not easily handled by a peace operation assigned to a specific country, especially if the host government believes that its neighbours have hostile intentions or are benefitting from the conflict. This was the case in the DRC where the government was deeply suspicious of Rwanda (also Uganda, to a lesser extent), which meant that we had to manage our interactions with the Rwandan authorities judiciously to forestall Congolese recriminations. Reports by the Security Council’s group of experts, as well as investigations by independent organisations like Global Witness, have repeatedly documented trafficking of natural resources from the DRC via Uganda and Rwanda. I witnessed light aircraft smuggling high value coltan out of the DRC on flights that transited or landed in Rwanda or Uganda. Both countries have rebuffed such claims as false and politically motivated. I was present at several high-​level meetings between senior officials of these countries and UN representatives, but as far as I can recall, the issue of trafficking was never discussed, even though it is a significant contributing factor to the endless warfare that plagues much of the eastern Congo. No UN sanctions have been imposed on the transit countries to curb the trafficking.

The Limits of Intervention The mandates of UN peace operations are a many splendid thing; they embrace an eclectic range of peace imperatives. So, there are plenty of opportunities for recalcitrant governments and armed groups to derail mission efforts to push forward with a peace process. At times, therefore, dissuasive, or even punitive measures, may be unavoidable. However, coercive measures require careful targeting, and a clear-​ sighted assessment of the second-​order effects to ensure that they do not work at cross-​purposes with other UN interventions in support of peace. Goodwill and willingness to cooperate with a mission can quickly evaporate if leaders or their collaborators believe they are being targeted. As I know from personal experience, publicly denouncing senior officials can have knock-​on effects

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that impede mission efforts at advancing peace. In the DRC, a close and highly influential adviser to former President Kabila was accused of trafficking of minerals in an expert report36 to the Security Council. He was subsequently placed on a sanctions list and thereafter harboured a lasting grudge against MONUC, even though the mission had not authored the report. Like governments, armed groups also have the means to retaliate and interrupt a peace process. They can deny access to areas under their control, withdraw from DDR programmes, inflict reprisals on civilians, disrupt humanitarian aid or even attack peacekeepers.They may simply stop cooperating. I recall trying to get a rebel warlord in eastern DRC to join the peace process, but he angrily backed out when a UN agency called for him to be prosecuted for recruiting child soldiers. The three most common forms of coercive pressure are sanctions regimes, criminal prosecutions and armed intervention, all of which have political and operational implications for UN missions on the ground. The form and intent of UN sanction regimes have evolved considerably over the years. Broad-​based sanctions that isolate an entire country and its people are now generally eschewed because of their adverse impact on the health and well-​ being of the population at large. The UN claims that “since 2004, all new sanctions regimes have been targeted, meaning that they are intended to have limited, strategic focus on certain individuals, entities, groups, or undertakings. The most common sanctions measures are travel bans, asset freezes and arms embargos”.37 Sanctions can backfire. The UN has recognised that “sanctions do not operate, succeed, or fail in a vacuum. They work best when coupled with a larger conflict management strategy”.38 When a UN peace operation is trying to build confidence with the parties to the conflict, the imposition of sanctions may well be taken as an act of partiality with the risk that those subjected to the sanctions will retaliate by withdrawing their cooperation with mediators. Case studies from Yemen and Afghanistan make that point, arguing that the imposition of sanctions unintentionally derailed peace negotiations led by the head of the UN peace operation.39 The suspension of sanctions imposed on individuals (travel bans, asset freezes) may induce cooperation. As the head of peacekeeping missions, I was approached by individuals who were anxious to cooperate so as to earn a sanctions reprieve (mostly those with personal or financial interests abroad). I was quick to advise my interlocutors that they needed to actively support the peace programme if they hoped to be de-​listed. In practice, sanctions levelled against individuals and companies involved in trafficking do not automatically prevent or reduce trafficking from zones of conflict. There are myriad ways that traffickers can adjust their modus operandi to avoid detection or penalties. Measures that constrain or regulate the demand rather than the supply of trafficked commodities may be a more effective way to tackle the problem. The Kimberley Process (KP),40 set up in 2003 to curtail the trafficking of “blood diamonds” from Sierra Leone and Angola, is an example of product certification used to prevent the laundering of a high value commodity through legitimate

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markets. Although not faultless, the KP illustrates how concerted international action can curb, if not eliminate, the funding of violent groups through illicit resource capture.41 Public pressure on users (processors, manufacturers and consumers) combined with due diligence on supply chains as required by measures such as the Dodd-​ Frank Act in the United States42 and the European Union’s restrictions on conflict minerals43 can help rein in resource capture. To be fully effective, however, these measures require the unwavering support of the national government and local authorities, as well as the cooperation of neighbouring states, which provide –​ knowingly or not –​the exit routes for illicit exports. Absent such support, UN peace operations have limited means to impose controls on trafficking, although they can certainly act as a moral voice, and expose economic operators (including foreign businesses) engaged in trafficking. In addition, UN peace operations can support community-​based schemes that give communities a stake in preventing trafficking. This is what we did in Sierra Leone working with USAID and the UN Development Programme (UNDP) to establish a scheme that gave communities in diamond producing areas a financial stake in curbing trafficking. MONUC tried a similar approach in North Kivu designed to encourage registered traders (comptoirs) to buy minerals directly from artisanal miners at fair prices. Regrettably, however, the scheme quickly ran into bureaucratic obstacles, engineered by vested interests implicated in trafficking, and was suspended. Curbing artisanal mining does, however, pose a practical dilemma: the lack of gainful alternatives for desperately poor miners who survive (barely) on their earnings from mining. Often, there are no viable alternatives, except perhaps those proffered by militias. Efforts to end drug production in poor rural areas in countries like Afghanistan and Colombia have run into a similar quandary. Missions may be called on to monitor the enforcement of sanctions but their capacity to do so is uncertain. I recall that in Cote d’Ivoire, ONUCI MILOBS were tasked to carry out compliance checks in support of the UN-​imposed arms embargo. Given the country’s 500-​kilometer maritime littoral and 3,500 kilometres of land borders, this was an impossible task for a handful of MILOBS. When intelligence-​led monitoring revealed a breach in the embargo, the Ivoirian government which opposed the embargo blocked UN inspections at ports and airports. The mission decided not to force entry because at the time we were endeavouring to lower tensions and avoid precipitating an armed confrontation between the UN and the national security forces. That example from Cote d’Ivoire illustrates a perennial dilemma for peacekeeping operations, namely: should UN forces physically intervene to interdict or interrupt resource trafficking or enforce sanctions? The use of armed peacekeepers to patrol and prevent the expropriation of natural resources is an option that needs careful assessment. UNAMSIL was asked to help patrol the diamond-​producing areas of Sierra Leone to reduce smuggling. But given the hundreds of alluvial mining sites involved, this was not a feasible or

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worthwhile use of mission capacities. Monitoring by a UN mission is more realistic, however, if the commodity is easily identified and requires substantial transportation infrastructure to move it to the point of export. That was the case in Liberia where MILOBS monitored the UN ban on timber exports and helped prevent a resurgence of illegal logging to which the transitional government was turning a blind eye.44 The threat of criminal prosecution provides another possible path to compliance. Although UN peace operations cannot prosecute criminal behaviour, they can assist national and international authorities to do so. In each of the countries where I was involved in UN peace operations, we were asked to detain warlords and officials indicted by the International Criminal Court and the UN Special Court for Sierra Leone for war crimes and crimes against humanity. That list includes Charles Taylor, the former president of Liberia convicted by the Special Court for Sierra Leone for war crimes and crimes against humanity.45 At his trial in The Hague, the prosecution was at pains to implicate him in the trafficking of diamonds. So, does the prospect of punitive measures shift the balance of risk and reward sufficiently to deliver an effective deterrent to resource trafficking? Not necessarily, but as I have illustrated, international action combined with commercial pressures can assist countries to reduce, if not end, trafficking. Very regrettably, UN efforts to expose resource trafficking have been compromised by allegations of its own involvement in trafficking (one well-​publicised case was the collusion of peacekeepers with gold smugglers in the DRC).46 Allegations of trafficking by UN employees have sometimes been made to politically discredit the UN mission. Nevertheless, such claims –​even if false –​cause enormous reputational damage. Peace operations, therefore, must exercise extreme vigilance to detect and forestall any abuses of this kind.

Rising to the Challenges: Strategies, Structures and Staffing I have illustrated the complexity of the challenges that arise when UN peace operations attempt to intervene in the political economy of countries in the throes of violent conflict. If they are to do so with an expectation of success, they must be appropriately structured and adequately staffed, and equipped with a strategy that enables them to realistically tackle those challenges. In these concluding remarks, I focus on how UN peace operations might adapt to the complex challenges posed by the political economy. I discuss three issues: first, adapting the mission’s operational strategy to the complexities of the political economy; second, configuring the mission structure to better manage those complexities; and third, ensuring that the mission has the staffing capacity and expertise necessary to meet the challenges. How the political economy operates and for whose benefit are critical questions that are central to any strategy aimed at attenuating the conflict drivers originating in the political economy. However, as UN peace operations are awash with strategies, I would not recommend a separate strategy for dealing with the entanglements of

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the political economy. UN strategies tend to become well-​intentioned wish lists rather than focused policy documents that set priorities and recognise trade-​offs. The challenges posed by the political economy should be analysed and incorporated from the outset as an integral part of the mission’s overall political (or stabilisation) strategy rather than as a later add-​on or adjunct. Such assessments should be built from a local, national and regional perspective. The continuing violence in the eastern region of the DRC illustrates this point. The Congolese elections, held in 2006, three years after the civil war ended, changed the political dynamics in the Kivu provinces.47 The ethnically based armed groups that controlled the region, and much of its economic resources (minerals, land and cross-​border trade) during the war years, failed to gain elected office and formal legitimacy. Nevertheless, they were unwilling to concede their loss of political and economic power. As a result, violent conflict in the east is unrelenting, driven by the competition for political primacy, and the wealth that comes with that power. In 2020, after 20 years of peacekeeping presence in the DRC, the UN adopted a holistic approach to conflict resolution in the eastern region, which recognises that reality as the basis, (ironically) for its exit strategy. The Joint Strategy on the Progressive and Phased Drawdown of the UN Organisation Stabilisation Mission in the Congo (MONUSCO) agreed with the DRC government states that the region “is characterized by deeply entrenched conflicts that are strongly shaped by regional dynamics and struggles over the control of natural resources”.48 However, the DRC government’s subsequent decision to impose a state of emergency in the region and the appointment of military governors raise questions about the viability of that strategy.49 Other missions have been urged to move in the same strategic direction. A special review of the Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in the Central African Republic (MINUSCA) in 2016 noted the significant role of the informal and illicit economy in influencing conflict. The review argued that a “deeper understanding of the political economy, including organized crime networks, was therefore required in order to define effective strategies to support long-​term peace and stability”.50 A review of the Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in Mali (MINUSMA) came to similar conclusions and suggested that there was a tendency to associate the worsening situation only with the expansion of the influence of terrorism and organized crime from the north; local dynamics and fundamental causes of instability, such as the multiplicity of localized conflicts over resources and land, climate change, the growing population and power struggles, must be taken into account. The review team observed that, to address the situation, a truly integrated plan that takes account of the security, governance, reconciliation and development aspects was needed.51

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All these strategic reviews recommended a disaggregated approach based on the particular domestic challenges posed by the political economy. But strategies to address the conflicts generated by the political economy must also include a regional perspective. Violent conflict typically originates in the rivalries, fears and abuses that states, and their leaders, are unable, or unwilling, to stop or avert through non-​violent means. Nevertheless, internal divides take on added complexity (and longevity) if they are facilitated or fuelled by intervention by other state actors (as has been the case in the eastern DRC, Libya and Yemen). To develop and monitor such strategies in real time, missions must have the in-​house capacity to analyse and assess the dynamics of the political economy. This does not mean, however, that special units should be created; better to integrate these functions within the joint mission analysis centres (JMACs) or the political affairs units. The profile of mission staff should be adjusted to strengthen the capacity of missions for this kind of analytical work, which would counterbalance the tendency to import ready-​made solutions from other missions and country experiences. The HIPPO report underscored this point and recommended that “Each mission should have or be able to draw upon requisite local, cultural, linguistic and country expertise, ensure regular and structured engagement with local communities”.52 This was not the case when I was in peacekeeping. The idea of recruiting cultural anthropologists, social psychologists and economic historians (whether local or international) would have been considered rather fanciful. Such expertise could also be used to assess the impact of UN interventions on the political economy through DDR, SSR and economic governance initiatives, like GEMAP. They could also usefully evaluate how “some groups whose inclusion and reinsertion are core to any peace process –​demobilized ex-​soldiers, ex-​militias and ex-​rebels, refugees, and displaced people”53 are being absorbed, or not, into the political economy. Finally, as large missions often run into internal coordination problems that inhibit the integrated analysis required to understand and deal with the complexity of the political economy, I would recommend that an internal coordination mechanism, possibly chaired by a deputy special representative, should be established. This would help to ensure that all the key parts of the mission are operating on the same wavelength based on a shared analysis.

Conclusion: Liberating the Political Economy During my mission experiences, I came to realise that too often as peacekeepers and peacebuilders we were gliding over the surface of life in the countries where we were deployed. As outsiders, we were only tangentially aware of the motivations of the political elites and armed non-​state groups who were driving and distorting the political economy for their own power, privilege and profit. Nowadays, UN reports and resolutions display a much greater consciousness of the forces at work in the political economy. Nevertheless, the central challenge

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remains the same: how to translate that awareness into operational responses that UN missions can use to counter the dark power of the political economy. I have delineated some of the avenues for action that UN missions have already charted to address the complexities and perversities of the political economy. However, innovations in the global economy like cryptocurrency and shadow banks are creating new opportunities for actors in the political economy to circumvent national and international regulation and controls. Moreover, as the market prices of commodities like coltan increase exponentially, the incentives for illegal capture and exploitation of such resources grow stronger. Obviously, UN peace operations cannot surmount these challenges alone. Globally, UN policymakers must work with governments, investors, non-​ governmental partners and consumers to build coalitions of common interest that can harness or, when needed, constrain the market forces that fuel violent conflicts. For their part, UN missions on the ground should fully integrate the political economy as a key dimension of the political solutions that they advance in the pursuit of peace. Peace, politics and the political economy are indivisible.

Notes 1 International Monetary Fund, “Liberia: Selected Issues and Statistical Appendix”. Country Report no. 05/​167. Washington, D.C., 2005. www.imf.org/​exter​nal/​pubs/​ft/​ scr/​2005/​cr05​167.pdf 2 Alan Doss, A Peacekeeper in Africa: Learning from UN Interventions in Other People’s Wars, (Boulder and London: Lynne Rienner Publishers 2020), ­chapters 5–​8. 3 Brian Thomson, “Sierra Leone: Reform or Relapse? Conflict and Governance Reform,” Chatham House, London, 2007. www.chath​amho​use.org/​sites/​defa​ult/​files/​pub​lic/​ Resea​rch/​Afr​ica/​report​sier​rale​one0​607.pdf 4 Stephen Ellis, The Mask of Anarchy:The Destruction of Liberia and the Religious Dimension of an African Civil War (London: Hurst & Co., 2007). 5 US Institute of Peace, “Comprehensive Peace Agreement between the Government of Liberia and the Liberians United for Reconciliation and Democracy” (LURD) and the Movement for Democracy in Liberia (MODEL) and Political Parties,” Peace Agreements Digital Collection, USIP Washington D.C. 6 Wolfram Lacher,“Organized Crime and Conflict in the Sahel-​Sahara Region,” Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 2012. 7 Hans Hoebeke, Christian Chiza, and Bienvenu Mukungilwa, “The Old Is Dying and the New Cannot Be Born (Yet?) Security Sector Reform in the Democratic Republic of the Congo,” Groupe d’Etudes sur les Conflits et la Sécurité Humaine (gec-​sh), Insecure Livelihoods Series, January 2022. 8 The Kimberley Process, “What Is the Kimberley Process”, www.kimbe​rley​proc​ess.com/​ en/​what-​kp 9 United Nations Support Mission in Libya: Report of the Secretary-​General S/​2021/​62, United Nations, 19 January 2021. 10 Ibid. 11 S/​RES 2540 (2020), 28 August 2020. 12 https://​globa​lini​tiat​ive.net/​wp-​cont​ent/​uplo​ads/​2018/​09/​Atlas-​Illi​cit-​Flows-​Sec​ond-​ Edit​ion-​EN-​WEB.pdf

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13 Report of the Secretary-​General on the United Nations Support Mission in Libya, S/​2017/​726 22 August 2017. 14 S/​RES/​2542 (2020). 15 Special Report of the Secretary-​General on the Renewal of the Mandate of the United Nations Mission in South Sudan S/​2018/​143, 20 February 2018. 16 Special Report on the Strategic Review of the United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan: Report of the Secretary-​General S/​2017/​696, 10 August 2017. 17 S/​RES/​2374 (2017), 5 September 2017. 18 www.unodc.org/​unodc/​en/​comm​issi​ons/​CND/​conv​enti​ons.html 19 See report on the “War on Drugs” at www.glob​alco​mmis​sion​ondr​ugs.org/​repo​rts 20 United Nations Support Mission in Libya: Report of the Secretary-​General S/​2021/​62 19 January 2021. 21 S/​RES 2522 (2020), 29 May 2020. 22 Report of the Secretary-​General on Somalia, S/​2018/​1149, 21 December 2018. 23 S/​RES 2540 (2020), 28 August 2020. 24 See Martin Sandbu, “The West Has Paid the Price for Neglecting the Afghan Economy”, Financial Times, 23 August 2021, and Steve Brooking “How to Prevent Afghan Aid Money from Reaching Terrorists”, Foreign Policy, 20 January 2022. 25 See, for example, the discussion on corruption within the Congolese army, and its relationship to broader issues of governance in the DRC, published by the Belgian Royal Institute for International Relations. www.egmo​ntin​stit​ute.be/​cor​rupt​ion-​in-​the-​ congol​ese-​army-​three-​less​ons-​for-​mod​ern-​demo​crac​ies/​ 26 Alan Doss,“Safeguarding Democracy in West Africa”, Africa Center for Strategic Studies, September 29, 2020. 27 www.refwo​rld.org/​docid/​5b430d​154.html 28 See Mary Kaldor,“Evaluation of UNDP Assistance to Conflict-​Affected Counties: Sierra Leone Case Study”, http://​web.undp.org/​eva​luat​ion/​eval​uati​ons/​docume​nts/​thema​tic/​ confl​ict/​Sier​raLe​one.pdf 29 https://​unmil.unm​issi​ons.org/​story-​unmil-​book-​gov​erna​nce-​and-​econo​mic-​man​agem​ ent-​ass​ista​nce-​progra​mme-​gemap 30 S/​RES/​1626 (2005), 19 September 2005. 31 See Kempe Ronald Hope Sr., “Liberia’s Governance and Economic Management Assistance Program (GEMAP): An Impact Review and Analytical Assessment of a Donor Policy Intervention for Democratic State-​ Building in a Post-​ Conflict State”, South African Journal of International Affairs, 2010. 32 See Sevérine Autesserre, “The Frontlines of Peace: An Insider’s Guide to Changing the World”, Oxford Scholarship Online, 2021. 33 “Stabilization Strategy (ISSSS), MONUSCO, https://​monu​sco.unm​issi​ons.org/​en/​ stabil​izat​ion-​strat​egy-​issss 34 HIPPO report. 35 See       www.thea​fric​arep​ort.com/​135​055/​uga​nda-​gov​ernm​ent-​axes-​gold-​tax-​not-​want​ ing-​to-​lose-​cent​ral-​role-​in-​trade/​? and www.bloomb​erg.com/​news/​artic​les/​2020-​06-​ 12/​un-​expe​rts-​show-​vast-​gold-​smuggl​ing-​netwo​rks-​from-​congo-​to-​dubai 36 Final Report of the Panel of Experts on the Illegal Exploitation of Natural Resources and Other Forms of Wealth of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, S/​2002/​1146, 15 October 2002. 37 See Subsidiary Organs of the Security Council –​Factsheets 2022, www.un.org/​secu​r ity​ coun​cil/​sites/​www.un.org.secu​r ity​coun​cil/​files/​subsi​diar​y_​or​gans​_​fac​tshe​ets.pdf 38 Subsidiary Organs of the Security Council –​Factsheets 2022, www.un.org/​secu​r ity​ coun​cil/​sites/​www.un.org.secu​r ity​coun​cil/​files/​subsi​diar​y_​or​gans​_​fac​tshe​ets.pdf

Engaging with Political Elites and Non-State Armed Groups  83

39 For a well-​informed analysis and commentary on how UN sanctions and mediation initiatives can complement or complicate peace processes, see Thomas Biersteker, Rebecca Brubaker, and David Lanz, UN Sanctions and Mediation: Establishing Evidence to Inform Practice, United Nations University Centre for Policy Research, 18 February 2019. 40 See www.kimbe​rley​proc​ess.com/​en/​what-​kp 41 See Audrie Howard, Blood Diamonds: The Successes and Failures of the Kimberley Process Certification Scheme in Angola, Sierra Leone and Zimbabwe, 15 Washington University Global Studies Law Review, 137 (2016), https://​open​scho​lars​hip.wustl.edu/​law_​gl​obal​ stud​ies/​vol15/​iss1/​8 42 See www.global​witn​ess.org/​en/​campai​gns/​confl​ict-​miner​als/​dodd-​frank-​act-​sect​ ion-​1502/​ 43 See https://​ec.eur​opa.eu/​trade/​pol​icy/​in-​focus/​confl​ict-​miner​als-​reg​ulat​ion/​reg​ulat​ ion-​explai​ned/​ 44 Report of the Secretary-​General in Pursuance of Paragraph 19 of Resolution 1478 (2003) Concerning Liberia S/​2003/​793, 5 August 2003. 45 www.theg​uard​ian.com/​world/​2012/​apr/​26/​char​les-​tay​lor-​trial-​naomi-​campb​ell       26 April 2012. 46 Congo peacekeepers helped gold smugglers: U.N. report www.reut​ers.com/​arti​cle/​us-​congo-​dem​ocra​tic-​peace​keep​ers-​idUSL1​0746​8632​ 0070​810 and www.hrw.org/​news/​2008/​04/​30/​un-​tac​kle-​wro​ngdo​ing-​peace​keep​ers-​0 47 Alan Doss, Peacekeeper in Africa, pp. 168–​169. 48 Letter dated 26 October 2020 from the Secretary-​General addressed to the President of the Security Council S/​2020/​1041. 49 For a recent assessment of the Joint Strategy, see Laura McCreedy, “What Can MONUSCO Do to Better Address the Political Economy of Conflict in DRC?”, IPI Global Observatory January, 2022. 50 Special Report of the Secretary-​ General on the Strategic Review of the United Nations Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in the Central African Republic, S/​2016/​565, 22 June 2016. 51 Situation in Mali: Report of the Secretary-​General S/​2018/​541, 6 June 2018. 52 Report of the High-​level Independent Panel on Peace Operations on Uniting Our Strengths for Peace: Politics, Partnership and People, A/​70/​95–​S/​2015/​446, 17 June 2015. 53 Ibid., p. 49.

Bibliography Autesserre, Sevérine, The Frontlines of Peace: An Insider’s Guide to Changing the World Oxford Scholarship Online, 2021. Belgian Royal Institute for International Relations: www.egmo​ntin​stit​ute.be/​cor​rupt​ion-​ in-​the-​congol​ese-​army-​three-​less​ons-​for-​mod​ern-​demo​crac​ies/​, 5 October 2021. Biersteker,Thomas, Rebecca Brubaker, and David Lanz,UN Sanctions and Mediation: Establishing Evidence to Inform Practice (New York: United Nations University Centre for Policy Research, 18 February 2019). Bowcott, Owen, “Charles Taylor and the ‘dirty-​looking stones’ given to Naomi Campbell”, The Guardian, 26 April 2012. Brooking, Steve, “How to Prevent Afghan Aid Money from Reaching Terrorists”, Foreign Policy, 20 January 2022. Doss, Alan, A Peacekeeper in Africa: Learning from UN Interventions in Other People’s Wars, Boulder and London: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2020.

84  Alan Doss

—​—​—​, “Safeguarding Democracy in West Africa,” Africa Center for Strategic Studies, 29 September 2020. Ellis, Stephen, The Mask of Anarchy:The Destruction of Liberia and the Religious Dimension of an African Civil War (London: Hurst & Co., 2007). European Commission, Conflict Minerals Regulation: https://​ec.eur​opa.eu/​trade/​pol​icy/​ in-​focus/​confl​ict-​miner​als-​reg​ulat​ion/​reg​ulat​ion-​explai​ned/​ Global Initiative against Organized Crime, World Atlas of Illicit Flows, December 2018. https://​globa​lini​tiat​ive.net/​wp-​cont​ent/​uplo​ads/​2018/​09/​Atlas-​Illi​cit-​Flows-​Sec​ond-​ Edit​ion-​EN-​WEB.pdf. Global Witness: www.global​witn​ess.org/​en/​campai​gns/​confl​ict-​miner​als/​dodd-​frank-​act-​ sect​ion-​1502/​ 15 November 2017. Hoebeke, Hans, Christian Chiza, and Bienvenu Mukungilwa, “The Old Is Dying and the New Cannot be Born (Yet?) Security Sector Reform in the Democratic Republic of the Congo,” Groupe d’Etudes sur les Conflits et la Sécurité Humaine (gec-​sh), Insecure Livelihoods Series, 8 February 2022 Howard, Audrie, Blood Diamonds:The Successes and Failures of the Kimberley Process Certification Scheme in Angola, Sierra Leone and Zimbabwe, Washington University in St. Louis, School of Law, 2015. Human Rights Watch, www.hrw.org/​news/​2008/​04/​30/​un-​tac​kle-​wro​ngdo​ing-​peace​keep​ ers-​0. 30 April 2008. International Monetary Fund, “Liberia: Selected Issues and Statistical Appendix”. Country Report no. 05/​167. Washington, D.C., 1 May 2005. www.imf.org/​exter​nal/​pubs/​ft/​scr/​ 2005/​cr05​167.pdf. Kaldor, Mary, “Evaluation of UNDP Assistance to Conflict-​Affected Counties: Sierra Leone Case Study”, 2006.http://​web.undp.org/​eva​luat​ion/​eval​uati​ons/​docume​nts/​thema​tic/​ confl​ict/​Sier​raLe​one.pdf Kavanagh, Michael J, “UN Experts Show Gold Smuggling Networks From Congo to Dubai”, Bloomberg News, 13 June 2020. www.bloomb​erg.com/​news/​artic​les/​2020-​06-​ 12/​un-​expe​rts-​show-​vast-​gold-​smuggl​ing-​netwo​rks-​from-​congo-​to-​dubai Kempe, Ronald Hope Sr. “Liberia’s Governance and Economic Management Assistance Program (GEMAP): an impact Review and Analytical Assessment of a Donor Policy Intervention for Democratic State-​ Building in a Post-​ Conflict State”, South African Journal of International Affairs, vol. 17, no. 2, 2010, 243–​263. Kimberley Process, What is the Kimberley Process, www.kimbe​rley​proc​ess.com/​en/​what-​ kp. 2019. Lacher, Wolfram, “Organized Crime and Conflict in the Sahel-​Sahara Region”, Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 2012. McCreedy, Laura, “What Can MONUSCO Do to Better Address the Political Economy of Conflict in DRC?” IPI Global Observatory, January 2022. National Recovery Strategy Sierra Leone (2002-​03), www.refwo​rld.org/​docid/​5b430d​154. html. October 2002. Reuters, “Congo peacekeepers helped gold smugglers: U.N. report” www.reut​ers.com/​arti​ cle/​us-​congo-​dem​ocra​tic-​peace​keep​ers. 10 August 2007. Sandbu, Martin, “The West Has Paid the Price for Neglecting the Afghan Economy”, Financial Times, 23 August 2021. The Africa Report, www.thea​fric​arep​ort.com/​135​055/​uga​nda-​gov​ernm​ent-​axes-​gold-​tax-​ not-​want​ing-​to-​lose-​cent​ral-​role-​in-​trade/​?. 12 October 2021. Thomson, Brian, Sierra Leone: Reform or Relapse? Conflict and Governance Reform ( London: Chatham House, 2007), www.chath​amho​use.org/​sites/​defa​ult/​files/​pub​lic/​Resea​rch/​ Afr​ica/​report​sier​rale​one0​607.pdf

Engaging with Political Elites and Non-State Armed Groups  85

United Nations, A/​70/​95–​S/​2015/​446, Report of the High-​level Independent Panel on Peace Operations on Uniting Our Strengths for Peace: Politics, Partnership and People, 17 June 2015. —​—​—​, S/​2002/​1146, Final Report of the Panel of Experts on the Illegal Exploitation of Natural Resources and Other Forms of Wealth of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, 15 October 2002. —​—​—​, S/​2003/​79, Report of the Secretary-​General in Pursuance of Paragraph 19 of Resolution 1478 (2003) Concerning Liberia, 5 August 2003. —​—​—​, S/​2016/​565, Special Report of the Secretary-​General on the Strategic Review of the United Nations Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in the Central African Republic, 22 June 2016. —​—​—​, S/​2017/​696 Special Report on the Strategic Review of the United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan: Report of the Secretary-​General, 10 August 2017. —​—​—​, S/​2017/​726, Report of the Secretary-​General on the United Nations Support Mission in Libya, 22 August 2017. —​—​—​, S/​2018/​143, Special Report of the Secretary-​General on the Renewal of the Mandate of the United Nations Mission in South Sudan, 20 February, 2018. —​—​—​, S/​2018/​1149, Report of the Secretary-​General on Somalia, 21 December 2018. —​—​—​, S/​2018/​5416, Situation in Mali: Report of the Secretary-​General, 6 June 2018. —​—​—​, S/​2020/​1041, Letter dated 26 October 2020 from the Secretary-​General Addressed to the President of the Security Council. —​—​—​, S/​2021/​62, United Nations Support Mission in Libya: Report of the Secretary-​General, 19 January, 2021. United Nations Mission in Liberia, https://​unmil.unm​issi​ons.org/​story-​unmil-​book-​gov​ erna​nce-​and-​econo​mic-​man​agem​ent-​ass​ista​nce-​progra​mme-​gemap. 20 April 2018. United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, www.unodc.org/​unodc/​en/​comm​issi​ons/​ CND/​conv​enti​ons.html. November 2013. United Nations Security Council, Factsheets: www.un.org/​secu​r ity​coun​cil/​sites/​www. un.org.secu​r ity​coun​cil/​files/​subsi​diar​y_​or​gans​_​fac​tshe​ets.pdf. 2022. —​—​—​, S/​RES/​1626, Security Council Resolution 1626, 19 September 2005. —​—​—​, S/​RES/​2374, Security Council Resolution 2374, 5 September 2017. —​—​—​, S/​RES 2522, Security Council Resolution 2522, 29 May 2020. —​—​—​, S/​RES 2540, Security Council Resolution 2540, 28 August 2020. —​—​—​, S/​RES/​2542, Security Council Resolution 2542, 15 September 2020. United Nations Stabilization Mission in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, https://​ monu​sco.unm​issi​ons.org/​en/​stabil​izat​ion-​strat​egy-​isss. 18 March 2018. US Institute of Peace, Peace Agreements Digital Collection (Washington, D.C.: USIP).

5 UN SANCTIONS, PANELS OF EXPERTS AND THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF INTRASTATE CONFLICT Charles Cater

United Nations (UN) peace operations often struggle to cope with the challenges posed by the political economy of intrastate conflict.These include insurgent access to illicit finance, the arms trade, war profiteering and large-​scale public sector corruption undermining state capacity. UN sanctions, including measures such as arms embargos and natural resource export bans and the targeted use of listing criteria, have significant potential to effectively complement peacekeeping and mediation by limiting the finances to pay for war and the weapons to wage it, mitigating economic incentives for the perpetuation of conflict and preventing conflict related to public sector corruption. One determinant of success or failure is whether the Security Council and its sanctions committees have the information they require for decision-​making. This is particularly true when one considers how far removed –​geographically and otherwise –​policymakers in New York are from the political and economic realities of the conflicts they are trying to resolve. This chapter concerns the little-​known work of UN Panels of Experts (PoEs), special political missions1 that facilitate UN sanctions implementation through their monitoring and reporting to the Security Council and its sanctions committees, in relation to the political economy of intrastate conflict and UN peace operations. PoEs can be useful in addressing the challenges posed by the political economy of intrastate conflict in two main ways (in descending order of significance). First, monitoring and reporting to the Security Council and sanctions committees provides a field-​based source of intelligence within the UN system that facilitates more effective UN sanctions implementation to limit the material resources, economic incentives and associated risks for armed conflict. Second, through a combination of formal and informal channels, PoEs contribute to a better understanding of the political economy of intrastate conflict that extends beyond the context of sanctions to Security Council decision-​making regarding UN peace operations and their operations in the field. PoE analyses of threats to peace and security provide a DOI: 10.4324/9781003248637-6

UN Sanctions and Panels of Experts  87

uniquely independent and timely source of information within the UN system on conflict dynamics, which has a certain utility. The chapter proceeds as follows. The next section highlights the principal sanctions tools in relation to the political economy of intrastate conflict: arms embargoes, natural resource sanctions, listing criteria, and asset freezes and travel bans. The second section then situates PoEs within the broader institutional framework of UN sanctions, covering mandates, composition, working methods and reporting. The third section concerns the relationship between PoEs and UN peace operations. This is followed by an assessment of active UN sanctions regimes and PoEs in relation to intrastate conflicts. The last section analyses obstacles for the work of PoEs, including war economies, corruption and Member States; Security Council politics and practice; and UN institutional factors. The chapter concludes with some thoughts regarding the use of sanctions to influence the political economy of intrastate conflict: how to evaluate the work of PoEs, specific recommendations to improve the impact of PoEs and priorities for reforming UN sanctions. While UN sanctions and PoEs have significant potential to complement UN peace operations in tackling the political economy of intrastate conflict, in the absence of fundamental changes –​including within the Security Council –​much of this potential will remain unrealised.

UN Sanctions: Mechanisms to Influence the Political Economy of Conflict Arms embargoes are the most prevalent sanctions tool to influence the political economy of intrastate conflict. Eight of the nine sanctions regimes (all except the most recent, Mali) within the scope of this chapter include an arms embargo (see Table 5.1). However, arms embargoes are not a one-​size-​fits-​all type of tool. Arms embargoes are most commonly imposed to prevent the import of weapons; but in some cases –​such as Eritrea and Libya (and the nuclear non-​proliferation regimes for Iran and the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea) –​they have been two-​way, also prohibiting the export of weapons. Arms embargos may either comprehensively apply to the country’s territory or selectively apply to certain actors, typically non-​state armed groups. In effect, an arms embargo may be targeted through either the initial sanctions resolution, the subsequent designation of an entity as being subject to the arms embargo or a partial-​lifting enabling a state to import weapons. Arms embargoes can also vary according to the scope of the weapons that they prohibit, ranging from comprehensive to only heavy weaponry and certain types of specialised military equipment. Natural resource sanctions are another commonly utilised tool to influence the political economy of intrastate conflict.2 The primary type of natural resource sanction is an export ban, which is intended to decrease the amount of funds available to finance the means of conflict. Import bans, which may be applied to commodities such as oil and refined gas that have military purposes, have been less frequently imposed.3 Export and import bans may also be targeted, such as

88  Charles Cater TABLE 5.1  Active UN Sanctions Regimes Concerning Intrastate Conflict

Sanctions Regime (Committee Resolution #)

Asset Travel Arms Natural Listing Criteria Regarding Political Economy Freeze Ban Embargo Resource Exports

Somalia (751) X

X

X

DRC (1533)

X

X

X

• Violation of arms embargo • Support for armed groups or criminal networks through illicit exploitation or trade of natural resourcesd

Sudan (1591) X

X

X

• Violation of arms embargoe

Libya (1970)

X

X

X

Afghanistan (1988)

X

X

X

• Violation of arms embargo • Financing or support for listed individuals and entities through the illicit cultivation, production and trafficking of narcotic drugs or the illegal exploitation of natural resourcesk

CAR (2127)

X

X

X

• Violation of arms embargo • Support for armed groups or criminal networks through the illicit exploitation or trade of natural resourcesl

Yemen (2140) X

X

X

• Violation of arms embargom

South Sudan (2206)

X

X

• Destabilisation by armed groups or criminal networks through the illicit exploitation or trade of natural resourcesn

X

X

X

• Violation of arms embargoa • Violation of charcoal banb • Misappropriation of public financial resourcesc

• Violation of arms embargof • Illicit export of oil and refined petroleum productsg • Support for armed groups or criminal networks through illicit exploitation of oil or other natural resourcesh • Attacks on oil facilitiesi • Misappropriation of Libyan state fundsj

UN Sanctions and Panels of Experts  89 Table 5.1 (Cont.)

Sanctions Regime (Committee Resolution #)

Asset Travel Arms Natural Listing Criteria Regarding Political Economy Freeze Ban Embargo Resource Exports

Mali (2374)

X

X

• Financing of listed individuals or entities through proceeds from organised crime, including the production and trafficking of drugso

a S/​RES/​2093, 6 March 2013, para. 43 (b). b S/​RES/​2036, 22 February 2012, para. 23. c S/​RES/​2060, 25 July 2012, para. 2 (c); and S/​RES/​2385, 14 November 2017, para. 44. d S/​RES/​2293, 23 June 2016, paras. 7 (a) and 7 (g). e S/​RES/​1591, 29 March 2005, para. 3(c). f S/​RES/​1973, 17 March 2011 para. 23; and S/​RES/​2213, 27 March 2015, para. 11 (e). g S/​RES/​2146, 19 March 2014, para. 11; and S/​RES/​2362, 29 June 2017, para. 2. h S/​RES/​2174, 27 August 2014, para. 4 (c); and S/​RES/​2213, 27 March 2015, para. 11 (c). i S/​RES/​2213, 27 March 2015, para. 11 (b). j S/​RES/​2213, 27 March 2015, para. 11 (d). k S/​RES/​2255, 22 December 2015, paras. 2–​4. l S/​RES/​2399, 30 January 2018, paras. 21 (a) and 21 (e). m S/​RES/​2216, 14 April 2015, para. 19. n S/​RES/​2521, 29 May 2020, para. 15 (j). o S/​RES/​2374, 5 September 2017, para. 8(c).

an export ban that only applies to oil shipments without government approval (i.e. Libya), or an import ban that only applies to oil and refined gas destined for rebel-​held territory. Supply chain due diligence (e.g. the Democratic Republic of Congo) and resource sector revenue transparency (e.g. Eritrea) are other types of sanctions mechanisms that do not prohibit export or import, but may create certain obligations to ensure that natural resource revenue is not financing armed conflict. Lastly, whether reinforcing a sanctions measure or functioning as a substitute, the Security Council has increasingly utilised listing criteria linking the illegal exploitation of natural resources to armed groups or organised crime. Overall, seven out of nine of the sanctions regimes (all except Sudan and Yemen) within the scope of this chapter have had some form of natural resource-​related sanctions mechanism, including export and import bans, due diligence and listing criteria (see Table 5.1). Consistent with a trend away from comprehensive sanctions towards targeted sanctions, the Security Council has increasingly relied on listing criteria, some of which specifically address political economy dimensions of intrastate conflict (see Table 5.1). Listing criteria, as the name suggests, establish what acts the Security Council has determined may lead to an individual or entity being designated as a sanctions violator and subjected to an asset freeze and/​or travel ban. The listing criteria vary for each sanctions regime, but cumulatively there is a wide range regarding peace and security, human rights, humanitarian assistance, terrorism, coups

90  Charles Cater

d’état, nuclear non-​proliferation and corruption. In addition to general listing criteria concerning threats to peace and security and specific listing criteria regarding arms embargoes and natural resources, misappropriation of public assets is perhaps the most relevant in relation to the political economy of intrastate conflict. While public sector corruption can have adverse implications for stability through undermining the security sector and amplifying individual economic incentives that may perpetuate war, only Libya and Somalia among active UN sanctions regimes have specific listing criteria regarding public sector corruption (see Table 5.1). The consequence for being designated as a violator of UN sanctions is the imposition of an asset freeze and/​or travel ban for individuals or an asset freeze for entities. A freeze is not a confiscation of assets, but it does obligate Member States to prohibit access to funds and other financial assets or economic resources, such as bank accounts, investments, property and criminal proceeds, among others. Asset freezes also apply to individuals or entities acting at the direction of or on behalf of the target. Travel bans obligate Member States to prohibit international travel for listed individuals. Although, depending on the UN sanctions regime, asset freezes and travel bans may have certain exemptions, such as for a humanitarian or diplomatic purpose. The implementation of asset freezes and travel bans is facilitated by Interpol –​United Nations Security Council Special Notices. At the time of writing, there were 517 individuals and 107 entities subject to Special Notices.4 However, there may also be an inherent limit to the effectiveness of asset freezes and travel bans in situations where, for example, a rebel leader does not hold either bank accounts or a passport, sells natural resources and buys weapons using cash (or directly trades natural resources for weapons), and routinely crosses insecure land borders.

Panels of Experts: Mandates, Composition, Working Methods and Reporting PoEs have a time-​limited mandate from the Security Council to monitor and report on UN sanctions implementation (see Table 5.2). This work is usually done in direct support of sanctions committees, which are subsidiary bodies of the Security Council that administer sanctions implementation. Monitoring and reporting on sanctions implementation includes the following: providing analysis of sanctions effectiveness; identifying specific sanctions violators –​such as individuals, armed groups, companies or states –​and making recommendations for listing; and making recommendations to improve sanctions implementation. Most PoEs have an investigative mandate, which enables them to proactively undertake field investigations, although some PoEs have a more restrictive mandate allowing them to merely receive information provided by Member States. The core of PoE mandates derives from the measures and listing criteria of their respective sanctions regime. The standard inclusion of language among listing criteria concerning acts which may threaten peace, security and/​or stability effectively expands the scope of PoE work beyond merely reporting on particular violations of specific sanctions measures

UN Sanctions and Panels of Experts  91 TABLE 5.2  Panels of Experts Concerning Intrastate Conflict (1995–​Present)

Country

Name (Years)

Rwanda Angola

International Commission of Inquiry (1995–​1998) Panel of Experts (1999–​2000) Monitoring Mechanism (2000–​2002) Panel of Experts on the Illegal Exploitation of Natural Resources and Other Forms of Wealth of the Democratic Republic of the Congo (2000–​2003) Group of Experts (2004–​present) Panel of Experts (2000) Panel of Experts (2001–​2016) Committee of Experts (2001) Monitoring Group (2001–​2003) Analytical Support and Sanctions Monitoring Team (2004–​present) Panel of Experts (2002–​2003) Monitoring Group on Somalia (2003–​2010) Monitoring Group on Somalia and Eritrea (2010–​2018) Panel of Experts (2018–​present) Group of Experts (2004–​2016) Panel of Experts (2005–​present) Monitoring Group on Somalia and Eritrea (2010–​2018) Panel of Experts (2011–​present) Panel of Experts (2013–​present) Panel of Experts (2014–​present) Panel of Experts (2015–​present) Panel of Experts (2017–​present)

Democratic Republic of Congo

Sierra Leone Liberia Afghanistan (and Al-​Qaida/​ISIL) Somalia

Côte d’Ivoire Sudan Eritrea Libya Central African Republic Yemen South Sudan Mali

and narrowly constructed listing criteria to also providing broader forward-​looking analyses of conflicts and potential threats. PoEs are composed of a small team of individuals5 recruited by staff at the Subsidiary Organs Branch, Security Council Affairs Division (SCAD), of the UN Department of Political and Peacebuilding Affairs (DPPA).6 Experts are officially appointed to time-​limited terms by the Secretary-​General after having been vetted by the relevant sanctions committee, where consensus-​based decision-​making rules effectively mean that each of the fifteen Security Council members could block an individual expert or an entire PoE from appointment. PoEs often have a regional expert combined with various functional experts –​such as on arms, armed groups, finance, natural resources and human rights/​humanitarian assistance –​and are led by a coordinator. Expert backgrounds vary from academic, civil society and media to intelligence, military and police. Most PoEs are home-​based, with the exception of the counter-​terrorism and nuclear non-​proliferation PoEs, which have a New York duty station, and the Somalia PoE, whose duty station has historically been based within the region.7

92  Charles Cater

PoEs utilise a variety of working methods to monitor sanctions implementation. Undoubtedly the least exciting (but in some contexts the most fundamental) tool is official correspondence (OC). OCs are letters dispatched by the Secretariat under the signature of the PoE coordinator requesting information from governments, individuals, companies and organisations. PoEs may also utilise a variety of open source and secondary source materials, but this is generally not how PoEs bring the most added value to sanctions monitoring. Making effective use of a Security Council investigative mandate entails developing confidential sources and undertaking in-​country field investigations, which frequently also have regional and international dimensions. Information gathering typically also includes building working relationships with implementing partners and other actors, such as UN peace operations, UN agencies, regional organisations, national and sub-​national governments, and military forces deployed in the region. Informal PoE outreach, which involves building trust to enable a two-​way flow of information, can also raise awareness among Member States and other implementing partners, thus potentially contributing towards more effective sanctions implementation. The specific reporting requirements of PoEs vary, but they are nonetheless fairly similar. A typical schedule of PoE reports would include monthly reports to the sanctions committee, an interim report to the sanctions committee and an annual report to the Security Council which is usually transmitted via the sanctions committee. A standard schedule based on an annual mandate means that PoEs are usually in New York at least twice a year, for induction and to present their final report, which also gives them opportunities to hold bilateral consultations with committee members and participate in committee meetings. The monthly and interim reports to the committee are typically confidential, while the annual report to the Council is typically public. The annual reports may also include confidential annexes –​to which only Council members are supposed to have access –​for particularly sensitive material. Statements of case, where a sanctions listing is proposed and backed by substantial evidence, are another important type of confidential communication between PoEs and sanctions committees. Lastly, with regard to evidentiary standards, PoEs are not required to meet the highest legal standard of “proof beyond a reasonable doubt” but rather something closer to a “preponderance of evidence”. As a general rule, all PoE reporting should be backed by multiple credible, independent sources.

Cooperation between Panels of Experts and Peace Operations In practice, many PoEs are mandated to monitor sanctions regimes in countries in which the Security Council has also mandated either a peacekeeping mission or a field-​based political mission. In these contexts, PoEs typically rely on UN peace operations for logistics and security during official missions. Recognising the operational dependence of PoEs on UN peace operations to facilitate their in-​country work, Security Council resolutions regarding sanctions usually include language explicitly requesting cooperation by UN peace operations.8 Table 5.3 summarises

UN Sanctions and Panels of Experts  93

the current combinations of PoEs, peace operations and cooperation mandates: four countries with UN peacekeeping operations, four countries with UN special political missions and one country combining a UN special political mission with a regional military force. Beyond standard cooperation with PoEs, two historical precedents for UN peacekeeping operations taking a more institutionalised approach to facilitating sanctions implementation were the Governance and Economic Management Assistance Programme of the United Nations Mission in Liberia (UNMIL), which implemented a “dual-​key” approach in natural resource ministries and state-​owned companies, and the embargo cell of the United Nations Operation in Côte d’Ivoire (UNOCI), which assisted the Group of Experts in monitoring the arms and diamond embargoes.9 Information sharing among PoEs, peace operations and the UN Secretariat can be divided into three categories –​mandated, formal practice and informal practice –​with the confidentiality requirements for certain PoE outputs establishing the parameters for shared content. As indicated in Table 5.3, most combinations TABLE 5.3  Panels of Experts, Peace Operations and Cooperation Mandates

Country

Panel of Experts Peace Operation

PoE/​Peace Op Cooperation Mandates

Afghanistan

Analytical United Nations Support and Assistance Mission Sanctions in Afghanistan Monitoring (UNAMA) Team

• MT should consult and engage in regular dialogue with UNAMAa • Calls upon all “international parties” to coordinate with UNAMAb

Central African Panel of Republic Experts

United Nations • Urges all “relevant Multidimensional UN bodies” to ensure Integrated Stabilization unhindered access for PoE Mission in the Central • Recalls the value of African Republic information sharing (MINUSCA) between MINUSCA and the PoEc

Democratic Republic of the Congo

Group of Experts

United Nations Stabilization Mission in the Democratic Republic of Congo (MONUSCO)

• Encourages “timely information exchange” between GoE and MONUSCO • Requests MONUSCO to assist GoE “within its capabilities”d

Libya

Panel of Experts

United Nations Support Mission in Libya (UNSMIL)

• Urges UNSMIL to cooperate fully with the PoE in supplying information regarding sanctions non-​compliance (continued)

94  Charles Cater Table 5.2 (Cont.)

Country

Panel of Experts Peace Operation

PoE/​Peace Op Cooperation Mandates • Calls on UNSMIL to support PoE investigatory work in Libya, including information sharing and transit facilitatione

Mali

Panel of Experts

United Nations • Authorises MINUSMA Multidimensional to assist and exchange Integrated Stabilization information with PoE and Mission in Mali assist in raising awareness (MINUSMA) regarding the role and mandate of PoEf

Somalia

Panel of Experts

African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM), United Nations Assistance Mission in Somalia (UNSOM)

• Calls upon AMISOM to facilitate regular access for PoE to charcoal exporting portsg • Reiterates request that AMISOM share information with PoE and assist investigationsh

South Sudan

Panel of Experts

United Nations Mission in the Republic of South Sudan (UNMISS)

• Encourages “timely information exchange” between PoE and UNMISS • Requests UNMISS assist PoE “within its mandate and capabilities”i

Sudan

Panel of Experts

United Nations • Requests UNITAMS Integrated Transitional cooperate with PoE to Mission in Sudan facilitate its workj (UNITAMS)

Yemen

Panel of Experts

United Nations Mission to Support the Hudaydah Agreement (UNMHA)

a b c d e f g h i j k

• Urges all parties to ensure cooperation with PoEk

S/​RES/​2557, 18 December 2020, Annex (n). S/​RES/​2596, 17 September 2021, para. 4. S/​RES/​2588, 29 July 2021, para. 10. S/​RES/​2293, 23 June 2016, para. 31. S/​RES/​2571, 16 April 2021, para. 14. S/​RES/​2584, 29 June 2021, para. 31 (b). S/​RES/​2607, 15 November 2021, para. 7. S/​RES/​2607, 15 November 2021, paras. 35 and 40. S/​RES/​2567, 12 March 2021, para. 18 (f); and S/​RES/​2577, 28 May 2021, para. 21. S/​RES/​2579, 3 June 2021, para. 16. S/​RES/​2564, 25 February 2021, para. 12.

UN Sanctions and Panels of Experts  95

of PoEs and peace operations have some form of Security Council mandate for information sharing. However, most types of PoE outputs are not directly shared with peace operations due to the confidentiality restrictions for monthly reports, mid-​term reports, confidential annexes within annual reports and statements of case. Instead, a formal practice by SCAD has been to circulate one-​page summaries of monthly reports and mid-​term reports to Secretariat colleagues in DPPA and DPO and peace operations in the field. This has been complemented by informal practices for information sharing, such as PoE coordinators verbally briefing Special Representatives of the Secretary-​General (SRSGs) regarding a forthcoming confidential mid-​term report. Regular interaction between individual panel experts and peace operations staff through working relationships developed on common issues (e.g. arms, armed groups, human rights/​humanitarian, finance and natural resources) can also lead to information sharing on a routine, informal basis.

Assessment of UN Sanctions and Panels of Experts This section evaluates the impact of UN sanctions and PoEs in relation to the political economy of intrastate conflict. It assesses the nine active UN sanctions regimes regarding intrastate conflict through reference to their relevant mechanisms –​arms embargoes, natural resource sanctions, political economy-​related listing criteria, and asset freezes and travel bans (see Table 5.1) –​and then briefly analyses cooperation between PoEs and peace operations (see Table 5.3). While the overall scope covers nine active UN sanctions regimes, the discussion focuses on Libya and Somalia.10 The section concludes with a few observations on the efficacy of UN sanctions and PoEs in tacking the political economy of intrastate conflict. Each of the nine active UN sanctions regimes concerning intrastate conflict has an arms embargo except the most recent, Mali. The Security Council has been innovative in terms of sanctions design with regard to the Libya and Somalia regimes through authorising the maritime interdiction of illicit arms, while Libya’s two-​way arms embargo is also notable. However, perhaps no other active UN sanctions regime than Libya more clearly illustrates the disjuncture between the monitoring and reporting work of a PoE on sanctions violations on the one hand and the utter lack of sanctions compliance on the other hand. According to the 2021 Final Report of the Libya PoE, The arms embargo remains totally ineffective. For those Member States directly supporting the parties to the conflict, the violations are extensive, blatant and with complete disregard for the sanctions measures. Their control of the entire supply chain complicates detection, disruption or interdiction.11 Each of the conflict’s main backers was identified as routinely violating the arms embargo through shipping arms and deploying mercenaries: Egypt, Russia and the United Arab Emirates, who support the forces of Khalifa Hifter; and Turkey, who supports the UN-​recognised government in Tripoli. For obvious reasons, the

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efficacy and integrity of an arms embargo is compromised when Member States –​ especially a permanent member of the Security Council –​blatantly violate the measure. While the relative success and failure of the other seven arms embargos varies (more the latter than the former), the Libya arms embargo remains particularly significant due to the magnitude of sanctions violations, the level of complicity by a P5 member of the Security Council and the implications for regional insecurity. While the Security Council has generally moved away from commodity export bans in favour of more targeted listing criteria, recent evidence suggests that natural resource export bans may be more enforceable than typically assumed. There are currently two measures relating to natural resources: a ban on the illicit export of oil and refined petroleum products from Libya and a ban on the export of charcoal from Somalia, both of which include associated listing criteria and authorisations regarding maritime interdiction intended to reinforce implementation.12 As the natural resources expert for the Monitoring Group, the author was directly involved in the confiscation of ten cargoes of illicit Somali charcoal from 2016 to 2018, which were instrumental in closing destination port access, thus decreasing the overall export of illicit charcoal from Somalia by 33%–​50% from 2016 to 2018.13 The Monitoring Group’s core strategy entailed disproving false certificates of origin that were being used by traffickers to import Somali charcoal into Bahrain, Kuwait, Oman and the United Arab Emirates (UAE). This included developing confidential sources at export and import locations; official missions to countries such as Comoros, Côte d’Ivoire, Djibouti and Ghana linked with false certificates of origin; frequent official correspondence to Member States; and outreach and capacity building with implementing partners such as customs authorities.While a reduction in illegal charcoal exports has affected Al-​Shabaab financing (the intended purpose of the charcoal export ban), it remains ambiguous how and to what extent sanctions implementation has influenced the overall trajectory of conflict in Somalia.14 The Security Council has adapted to the challenges posed by the political economy of intrastate conflict through adding innovative forms of listing criteria to sanctions design, but its sanctions committees have failed to make adequate use of these new tools in sanctions implementation. For example, six of the nine active UN sanctions regimes regarding intrastate conflict –​DRC, Libya, Afghanistan, CAR, South Sudan and Mali –​have listing criteria regarding support for armed groups and/​or criminal networks through the illegal exploitation of natural resources and/​ or the production and trafficking of illicit drugs (see Table 5.1).These listing criteria are intended to function as a more targeted alternative to resource-​related measures, such as an export ban; however, this only has the potential to work if the sanctions committees actually make use of the listing criteria, which is relatively infrequent. A review of narrative summaries for listing reveals three individuals that have been listed under this type of criteria, one in Libya and two in Mali.15 Another example of innovative sanctions design concerns listing criteria for the misappropriation of public sector financial resources in Libya and Somalia (see Table 5.1). Public sector

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corruption can have adverse implications as it generates economic incentives for conflict perpetuation and it undermines state capacity, which increases the risk of conflict. Despite instances where PoEs have documented public sector corruption (e.g. a systematic fraud of “ghost” soldiers on the Somalia National Army payroll), this type of listing criteria has not been utilised. A review of current UN sanctions listings readily reveals a dominant trend: a preoccupation with terrorism and a corresponding relative disinterest in intrastate conflict. Of the nine active UN sanctions regimes concerning intrastate conflict, the Afghanistan sanctions regime has approximately half (141/​281) of the total individual and entity listings (see Table 5.4). This is a legacy of Afghanistan previously being within the same sanctions regime as Al-​ Qaida until resolutions 1988 and 1989 in 2011, which split them into two sanctions regimes (creating a sanctions committee for each but retaining the Analytical Support and Sanctions Monitoring Team for both). The purpose was to create sufficient political and legal space enabling negotiation with the Taliban that would have not been possible had they remained designated as terrorists. Somalia offers another example of the Security Council’s predominant focus on counter-​terrorism. With the exception of one arms trafficker, the other 19 listings are all Al-​Shabaab related. The nearly exclusive focus on Al-​Shabaab suggests the Security Council views civil war in Somalia from the perspective of counter-​terrorism, at least with respect to the application of UN sanctions. Charcoal smugglers and corrupt government officials remain notably absent from the Somalia sanctions list, additions that would have indicated that the Security Council and the sanctions committee are also considering the wider political economy dimensions of this intrastate conflict. TABLE 5.4  UN Sanctions Listings Concerning Intrastate Conflicta

Sanctions Regime (committee resolution #)

Individuals (asset freeze and travel ban)

Entities (asset freeze)

Total

Somalia (751) DRC (1533) Sudan (1591) Libya (1970) Afghanistan (1988) CAR (2127) Yemen (2140) South Sudan (2206) Mali (2374) Total

19 36 3 29 136 14 9 8 8 262

1 9 0 2 5 1 1 0 0 19

20 45 3 31 141 15 10 8 8 281

a United Nations Security Council, “Narrative Summaries of Reasons for Listing”, www.un.org/​ secu​r ity​coun​cil/​sancti​ons/​narrat​ive-​summar​ies, accessed 30 March 2022.

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Although Security Council mandates for PoEs and UN peace operations routinely reference information sharing and assistance with PoE work in the field (see Table 5.3), confidentiality requirements also impose limitations on the transfer of written products from PoEs to UN peace operations, and special political missions typically lack the capacity to facilitate PoE work in the field. In the author’s experience with the Monitoring Group, regular working-​ level interaction nonetheless enabled informal information sharing and some forms of cooperation with UNSOM.16 However, this collaboration did not equally extend to the Monitoring Group’s working relationship with African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM), despite requests by the Security Council for AMISOM to facilitate access, share information and assist with investigations (see Table 5.3). Furthermore, while the Monitoring Group’s reporting on AMISOM included human rights violations, arms embargo violations and corruption related to the charcoal ban, experts were often simultaneously put in problematic situations of being dependent upon AMISOM for security while on official missions in Somalia. If the deployment of sub-​regional and regional military forces increases –​perhaps in response to operating environments perceived to require counter-​insurgency and counter-​terrorism rather than UN peacekeeping –​this could have adverse implications for the investigative work of PoEs in the field. This section has briefly evaluated UN sanctions, PoEs and their ability to influence the political economy of intrastate conflict. The Libya arms embargo highlights a relatively common disjuncture between the quality of PoE monitoring and reporting and the overall effectiveness of a UN sanctions measure, which in this instance was particularly compromised due to lack of compliance by a P5 member of the Security Council. In contrast, the relatively successful implementation of the Somalia charcoal export ban has been contrary to widely held negative assumptions regarding the enforceability and effectiveness of natural resource export bans. With respect to listing criteria, there have been useful innovations in sanctions design, but this has been diminished by woefully insufficient application during sanctions implementation, while the distribution of sanctions listings suggests the Security Council has prioritised counter-​terrorism over conflict resolution. Lastly, one key development influencing the prospects for future cooperation between PoEs and UN peace operations is an emerging trend away from UN peacekeeping operation deployments and towards reliance on sub-​regional and regional military forces. These various themes re-​emerge in the following section, which examines the key underlying factors determining the efficacy of UN sanctions and PoEs.

Obstacles to Influencing the Political Economy of Intrastate Conflict This section analyses three principal obstacles to UN sanctions and PoEs more effectively influencing the political economy of intrastate conflict: war economies, corruption and Member States; Security Council politics and practice; and UN institutional factors.

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War Economies, Corruption and Member States The adaptability of smuggling tactics by organised crime networks poses challenges for PoEs facilitating the implementation of natural resource sanctions and arms embargos. The ban on the export of charcoal from Somalia, imposed due to links with Al-​Shabaab financing, offers a good example.17 Organised crime networks based in Kismayo, Somalia and Dubai, UAE, adapted as their cargoes were increasingly confiscated at destination ports in the Arabian Gulf: forging certificates of origin, covering the dhow’s name and registration number while loading in Somalia or repainting it en route, forging ship registrations, turning off Automatic Identification System (AIS) transmitters, and transferring charcoal cargoes to other dhows anchored offshore destination ports. As documented by the Monitoring Group, the traffickers eventually resorted to the labour-​intensive transhipment of Somali charcoal via a third country. This included unloading the charcoal at the ports of Kish and Qeshm in Iran, transporting it to nearby warehouses, re-​ packaging the charcoal into bags stamped product of Iran, reloading the cargo onto different Iran-​registered dhows, and then importing the charcoal into the UAE using false Iran certificates of origin.18 Effectively implementing sanctions on arms and high-​value commodities, such as diamonds and gold, poses even greater difficulties than bulk commodities. War profiteering by military forces and governments presents another substantial obstacle to sanctions implementation. The illicit charcoal trade from Somalia illustrates these dynamics well.The most efficient way to prevent the export of charcoal from Somalia would be to prohibit its loading from stockpiles near the port of Kismayo and at Buur Gaabo (a natural port about 125 kilometers southwest from Kismayo) onto dhows for export. Access to the port of Kismayo has been controlled by the regional government of Jubaland and the Kenya Defence Forces (KDF) contingent of AMISOM, which also have a forward operating base overlooking the stockpiles in Buur Gaabo. However, as documented by the Monitoring Group, both Jubaland and the KDF have been complicit in illegal charcoal exports from Somalia.19 Likewise, the foreign ministry of Djibouti, another AMISOM troop contributing country, was implicated in a Monitoring Group investigation into sources of false certificates of origin enabling the import of Somali charcoal into the UAE.20 As these governments and military forces facilitated UN sanctions evasion, they also undermined their own counter-​insurgency and counter-​terrorism efforts in Somalia through enabling increased Al-​Shabaab financing. Perhaps the most significant obstacle to the effective implementation of arms embargos and natural resource sanctions is a lack of enforcement by regional Member States. When confronted with evidence regarding their weak implementation of UN sanctions, governments often reply that either they were not aware of the sanctions measure and their enforcement obligations or that they lack implementation capacity (i.e. administrative, financial and technical). Under certain circumstances, either may be plausible and both could be mitigated through PoE outreach to ministries of foreign affairs and capacity building with customs

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and port authorities. In other contexts, such as a regional military intervention or when economic interests are at stake, Member States may perceive a lack of compliance with UN sanctions to be in the national interest. One way that the Security Council has attempted to tighten implementation of arms embargoes and natural resource sanctions has been authorising maritime interdiction –​such as in Libya (oil exports, arms imports and arms exports) and Somalia (charcoal exports and arms imports) –​which also effectively broadened the range of enforcement actors beyond regional Member States.21

Security Council Politics and Practice Security Council politics can have negative implications for the independence of PoEs and the integrity of their reports. This is most clearly evident where Council members have delayed and/​or blocked the publication of PoE reports and delayed and/​or blocked the re-​appointment of individual experts and entire panels. For example, documenting arms embargo violations and natural resource dimensions of armed conflict in Sudan has provoked China and/​or Russia to delay or suppress publication of some PoE reports as well as block re-​appointment of panel members. In response to the 2010 final report, China delayed transmission from the committee to the Security Council by two months and delayed publication by six months due to objections regarding the identification of ammunition that had been made in China and used in attacks on peacekeepers in Darfur.22 Russia blocked publication of the 2011 final report due to claims regarding the use of Russian-​made incendiary devices in Darfur (despite it being much less critical than an unofficial “shadow” 2011 report informally circulating among Council members that had been written by three former panel members who had resigned in a dispute with the Coordinator).23 Lastly, the 2015 final report documented how an individual listed for a travel ban and asset freeze, militia leader Musa Hilal, made $54 million per year in profits from an unregulated gold mine in Darfur, while another $123 million per year was being accumulated from the gold trade by armed groups in Darfur. Russia’s objections delayed publication of the report by nine months, blocked reappointment of the panel members and delayed establishment of a new panel for eight months.24 More recently, a final report on the Central African Republic (CAR), presented by the PoE to the sanctions committee on 4 June 2021, has evidently been the catalyst for Russia to subsequently block the appointment of PoEs on an unprecedented scale. The report documents the involvement of armed Russian military instructors in active combat operations, including several violations of international humanitarian law: the excessive use of force, indiscriminate killings of civilians, widespread looting and complicity with the summary execution and disappearance of detainees.25 Within weeks of the sanctions committee meeting, Russia placed an indefinite hold on the renewal of the contracts for the experts on the CAR panel, effectively ending their employment for the UN. Russia’s reaction to the report has since extended in subsequent months to blocking the appointment of entire PoEs for CAR, the DRC and South Sudan, plus one expert for Somalia.26 Relations

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between Russia and France, which has historically considered West Africa to be within its own sphere of influence, have significantly deteriorated in the aftermath of the CAR final report. At the time of writing, it remains unclear whether Russia intends to use these blocking of PoE appointments as leverage for getting more Russian nationals hired as experts, or whether this represents a fundamental threat to the functioning and viability of UN sanctions as a whole. Another trend is equally concerning: as PoEs have become increasingly incorporated as standard tools within the UN sanctions architecture, the impact of their reports has been decreasing. Regarding intrastate conflict, there has been an astonishing lack of uptake of PoE recommendations by the Security Council and sanctions committees. PoEs usually make recommendations for improving the effectiveness of sanctions regimes within their final report; and PoEs generally make recommendations for the listing of individuals or entities in their final report and in confidential statements of case. However, despite the establishment of PoEs explicitly for this purpose, far more often than not these recommendations are largely ignored by the Security Council and sanctions committees. Part of the explanation concerns priorities: while most UN sanctions regimes concern intrastate conflict, as noted above, the Security Council’s attention and resources have been predominantly focused on counter-​terrorism (and to a lesser extent, nuclear non-​ proliferation). Part of the explanation is political: outside the common ground that the P5 members have found on counter-​terrorism, Council dynamics are so dysfunctional that penholders are reluctant to expend the political capital required to incorporate new language in resolutions and potential listings are blocked in sanctions committees for reasons entirely unrelated to their cases. The rest of the explanation is institutional: the Security Council suffers from something analogous to attention deficit disorder or selective amnesia, which impedes its ability to solve protracted problems. This is particularly true within a UN sanctions context as sanctions committee chairs are rotated annually among elected members lacking experience and institutional memory.

UN Institutional Factors The UN has neither a system for the internal management of the information generated by PoEs nor a coherent approach to the external dissemination of their findings.There are no established mechanisms for sharing information from one PoE mandate to the next. Other than what information is available in the reports and members who may have been retained from the previous mandate, each PoE starts without access to the previous panel’s investigations. Information sharing between outgoing and incoming panel members is only done on an informal, ad hoc basis subject to the degree of cooperation offered by the outgoing members. Similarly, information sharing between PoEs concurrently working on different countries is also limited and largely dependent on the development of inter-​panel working relationships among individuals. These information management limitations are further compounded by the lack of a public relations strategy. PoEs are usually

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under instructions from the Secretariat to not directly engage with the media as the recipients of their findings should be the sanctions committee and the Security Council. However, this leaves ample room for other actors, including sanctions violators, to spread disinformation and adversely influence public narratives regarding UN sanctions. Likewise, as the UN generally does not issue press releases regarding PoE reports, the media coverage of PoE reporting is typically uneven and frequently shaped by Council member leaks. Conditions of service and Secretariat support are other important UN institutional factors which adversely affect the operation of PoEs and the UN’s ability to recruit and retain experts. The 2015 Compendium of the High-​level Review of United Nations Sanctions sponsored by five Member State governments identified numerous issues including no diplomatic status and the lack of a laissez-​passer; poor conditions for international travel, including long-​duration flights; no health insurance and medevac only on a cost–​recovery basis; insufficient administrative and technical support by the Secretariat; and a mandate-​limited contract duration which lacks job security and under certain circumstances could compromise the independence of panel members.27 As one former expert noted, panel members are consultants hired “with the same form the U.N. uses to procure printer paper” and therefore in contrast to UN staff are not entitled to benefits.28 A lack of security in the field is the most significant UN institutional factor impeding the work of PoEs. The system established by the Department of Safety and Security (DSS) was evidently designed for mitigating general security threats in conflict zones and is entirely inadequate for countering the specific threats faced by experts investigating in the field. On 12 March 2017, two members of the DRC Group of Experts, Zaida Catalán (Sweden) and Michael Sharp (US), were killed while investigating human rights violations in the province of Kasai. The UN established a Board of Inquiry (BoI) led by Gregory Starr, a former DSS UN Under-​Secretary-​General and head of security for the US State Department. The BoI report questionably absolved the UN of negligence regarding the killings and ignored evidence regarding the involvement of the DRC government in their assassination, while Starr suggested in conversations with the victims’ families that Catalán and Sharp had taken excessive risks.29 From the perspective of this author, the UN’s principal “reform” in response to the BoI report entailed requiring more forms and signatures for approving official missions by experts, which might diffuse responsibility at the Secretariat but did not improve security in the field.30 Meanwhile, China and Russia threatened to block any Security Council resolution authorising a Chapter VII investigation, resulting in a much weaker UN response under the authority of the Secretary-​General, who established a small team to assist the DRC’s investigation. In terms of a lack of accountability, the precedent is clear.

Conclusion The conclusions one may draw regarding the contribution of PoEs to implementing sanctions within the context of the political economy of intrastate conflict vary

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depending on the analytical framework. The predominant focus among sanctions practitioners, and perhaps to a lesser extent sanctions scholars, has been on relatively narrow criteria of efficiency. Sanctions effectiveness has been perceived principally as a function of how well arms embargoes, natural resource sanctions and other measures have been implemented. Assessed from this perspective, there is no doubt that PoEs have made an indispensable contribution during their quarter century of work. However, in the technocratic push to improve sanctions implementation, one can also lose sight of the bigger picture: sanctions are a means to an end –​ the peaceful resolution of armed conflict. Evaluated within this framework, the impact of sanctions in general and PoEs in particular is more difficult to discern.31 The assessment section above concludes that the results are decidedly mixed and suggests that there remains considerable room for improvement. There are numerable courses of action that could be taken by the General Assembly, the Secretariat and the Security Council that would be beneficial for the work of PoEs. The General Assembly should dedicate more financial resources for expert salaries, panel travel budgets and institutional support by the Secretariat; and revise the rules which govern contracts and conditions of service, including with respect to issuing LPs, providing health and medevac insurance, and allowing business class travel for long-​ haul international flights (which is standard for Secretariat staff who support the work of PoEs but prohibited for experts hired as consultants). The Secretariat, specifically SCAD which supports the work of PoEs, should be less complacent regarding the numerous problems identified by the High-​level Review of United Nations Sanctions more than five years ago, particularly with respect to expert contracts and conditions of service. Finally, the Security Council should respect the independence of PoEs and take the issue of accountability more seriously. The failure to authorise a Chapter VII investigation into the deaths of two experts assassinated in the DRC is entirely unacceptable. The P3, who have traditionally been proponents of PoEs, need to re-​engage at the UN and make supporting their work a priority, particularly given Russia’s recent blocking of PoEs in reaction to the CAR PoE final report. As PoEs have become more institutionalised during the last twenty-​five years, there has been an associated risk that the health and safety of experts and the integrity of their work has become increasingly taken for granted. These recommendations are offered towards reversing that trend. More generally, how could the UN’s current approach be reformed in order to make sanctions more effective at influencing the political economy of intrastate conflict? The Security Council should exercise more due diligence and strategic planning during the sanctions design process. For example, resolutions creating sanctions regimes are typically drafted in the absence of guidance from a technical assessment mission (TAM) by the Secretariat, despite TAMs being standard procedure for Security Council resolutions establishing peacekeeping operations. The Security Council should also be more responsive to PoE recommendations regarding the modification of sanctions regimes to improve the effectiveness of implementation, while sanctions committees should be much more tactically

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adept at implementing sanctions, including but not limited to the timely uptake of statements of case and recommendations for listing by PoEs. Lastly, the overall UN approach to the political economy of intrastate conflict continues to lack a coherent strategy and coordination mechanism for linking sanctions with peace operations. This would require sustained, creative leadership by the Security Council and thoughtful input from SRSGs regarding how and when sanctions could usefully complement mediation and peacekeeping. A fundamental change in mindset is required; otherwise, the considerable potential for UN sanctions to positively influence the political economy of intrastate conflict will remain largely unrealised.

Notes 1 The term “special political mission” covers a wide range of UN entities, from special envoys and panels of experts to field missions. 2 See, for example, Security Council Report, UN Sanctions: Natural Resources, 20 November 2015, www.securi​tyco​unci​lrep​ort.org. 3 Technically, Security Council resolutions place the obligation for implementing export bans on Member States to not import the natural resource from the country; and conversely, Security Council resolutions place the obligation for implementing import bans on Member States to not export the natural resource to the country. 4 Interpol, “Notices”, www.inter​pol.int/​en/​How-​we-​work/​Noti​ces, accessed 9 January 2022. 5 Experts are hired as consultants and thus do not have the same status as the UN staff members, which has numerous significant implications; perhaps most notably, experts are not issued a UN Laissez Passer but rather a UN Travel Certificate, which does not confer the same privileges and protections. The implication of this status is explored in further detail later in the chapter. 6 Typical PoEs have four to five members. The Panel of Experts on Liberia had one member prior to termination; and the Panel of Experts on Angola and the Analytical Support and Sanctions Monitoring Team have had ten members. 7 With home-​based experts, the UN does not pay a cost of living allowance (COLA). Assuming the COLA expense for a New York duty station reflects Council priorities regarding counter-​terrorism and nuclear non-​proliferation. 8 See the PoE/​Peace Op cooperation mandates in Table 5.3 for CAR, DRC, Libya, Mali, South Sudan and Sudan. 9 UNEP, Greening the Blue Helmets: Environment, Natural Resources and UN Peacekeeping Operations, May 2012, 47–​48 and 56, www.unep.org; and Alix J. Boucher, UN Panels of Expert and UN Peace Operations: Exploiting Synergies for Peacebuilding, September 2010, 23–​24, www.stim​son.org. 10 This is partly a reflection of the significance of the Libya arms embargo, partly due to the mechanisms in place (both Libya and Somalia have natural resource export bans and listing criteria regarding misappropriation of public financial assets), and partly drawing upon the author’s experience with the Somalia and Eritrea Monitoring Group. 11 S/​2021/​229, 8 March 2021, Summary. 12 Listing criteria as an alternative to (rather than in support of) sanctions measures are covered in the paragraph below. 13 Author’s calculation based on data in Monitoring Group reports: S/​2016/​919, S/​2017/​ 924, and S/​2018/​1002.

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14 One could argue that the availability of alternative revenue streams for Al-​Shabaab negates the impact of enforcing the charcoal export ban. However, unlike the checkpoint taxation of charcoal exports, which generate massive surplus revenue, the aggressive taxation of local farmers and domestic businesses has undermined Al-​Shabaab’s support. 15 Ibrahim Saeed Salim Jadhran (LYi.027, 11 September 2018), Ahmoudou Ag Asriw (MLi 001, 20 December 2018) and Mohamed Ben Ahmed Mahri (MLi 007, 10 July 2019). United Nations Security Council, “Narrative Summaries of Reasons for Listing”, www. un.org/​secu​r ity​coun​cil/​sancti​ons/​narrat​ive-​summar​ies. 16 Although this may not be representative for home-​based PoEs as the Somalia and Eritrea Monitoring Group was field-​based in Nairobi, Kenya and thus geographically better situated to build working relationships with UNSOM. 17 S/​RES/​2036, 22 February 2012. 18 S/​2018/​1002, 9 November 2018, Annex 7.4. 19 S/​2018/​1002, 9 November 2018, para. 173 and Annex 7.2; S/​2017/​924, 2 November 2017, para. 210; and S/​2016/​919, 31 October 2016, paras. 133–​134. 20 S/​2017/​924, 2 November 2017, para. 211 and Annex 12.2.2. 21 S/​ RES/​ 2146, 19 March 2014; S/​ RES/​ 2292, 14 June 2016; and S/​ RES/​ 2182, 24 October 2014. 22 S/​2011/​111, 8 March 2011; and Louis Charbonneau, “U.N. Council gets Sudan report that infuriated China”, Reuters, 12 November 2010. 23 “UN clash over Beijing bullets claim”, Africa Confidential, 13 April 2012. 24 S/​2016/​805, 22 September 2016; and Colum Lynch,“Russia Blocks U.N. Report Linking Alleged Sudanese War Criminal to Gold Profiteering”, Foreign Policy, 4 April 2016. 25 S/​2021/​569, 25 June 2021, paras. 66–​68 and 83–​96, and Annex 3.3. 26 Colum Lynch, “Russia’s Sanctions Problem: Are its UN panel obstructions about short-​ term leverage, or are they intended as an existential threat to the system?”, Foreign Policy, 22 October 2021. 27 A/​69/​941 –​ S/​2015/​432, 12 June 2015, 36–​40. 28 Gregory Johnsen, “Russia Got Me Fired from the U.N.”, Politico, 19 July 2018. 29 Colum Lynch, “Congolese Cover-​Up”, Foreign Policy, 27 November 2018. 30 Colum Lynch, “The Worst Bloody Job in the World: UN sanctions inspectors feel unsupported and unsafe”, Foreign Policy, 20 October 2021. For example, Moncref Kartas, a member of the Libya Panel of Experts on an official mission, was illegally detained by Tunisian authorities on espionage and terrorism charges for 56 days in March–​May 2019. 31 The Targeted Sanctions Consortium has undertaken the most systematic attempt thus far to evaluate the effectiveness of UN sanctions. See Thomas Biersteker, Sue E. Eckert and Marcus Tourinho (eds.), Targeted Sanctions: The Impacts and Effectiveness of United Nations Action (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016).

Bibliography Biersteker, Thomas, Sue E. Eckert, and Marcus Tourinho (eds.), Targeted Sanctions:The Impacts and Effectiveness of United Nations Action (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016). Boucher, Alix J., UN Panels of Expert and UN Peace Operations: Exploiting Synergies for Peacebuilding, September 2010, www.stim​son.org/​wp-​cont​ent/​files/​UN_​Panels_​of_​ Expe​rts_​and_​UN_​P​eace​_​Ope​rati​ons.pdf Charbonneau, Louis, “U.N. Council gets Sudan report that infuriated China”, Reuters, 12 November 2010.

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Interpol, “Notices”, www.inter​pol.int/​en/​How-​we-​work/​Noti​ces, ND. Johnsen, Gregory, “Russia got me fired from the UN”, Politico, 19 July 2018. Lynch, Colum, “Congolese cover-​up”, Foreign Policy, 27 November 2018. —​ —​ —​ . “Russia blocks U.N. Report linking alleged Sudanese war criminal to gold profiteering”, Foreign Policy, 4 April 2016. —​ —​ —​ . “Russia’s sanctions problem: Are its UN panel obstructions about short-​ term leverage, or are they intended as an existential threat to the system?”, Foreign Policy, 22 October 2021. —​—​—​. “The worst bloody job in the world: UN sanctions inspectors feel unsupported and unsafe”, Foreign Policy, 20 October 2021. Security Council Report, UN Sanctions: Natural Resources, 20 November 2015, www.securi​ tyco​unci​lrep​ort.org/​resea​rch-​repo​rts/​this-​is-​secur​ity-​coun​cil-​repo​rts.php “UN clash over Beijing bullets claim”, Africa Confidential, 13 April 2012. United Nations, A/​69/​941 –​ S/​2015/​432, Compendium of the High-​level Review of United Nations Sanctions, 12 June 2015. —​—​—​, S/​2011/​111, Report of the Panel of Experts on the Sudan established pursuant to resolution 1591 (2005), 8 March 2011. —​—​—​, S/​2016/​805, Final report of the Panel of Experts on the Sudan established pursuant to resolution 1591 (2005), 22 September 2016. —​—​—​, S/​2016/​919, Report of the Monitoring Group on Somalia and Eritrea pursuant to Security Council resolution 2244 (2015): Somalia, 31 October 2016. —​—​—​, S/​2017/​924, Report of the Monitoring Group on Somalia and Eritrea submitted in accordance with resolution 2317 (2016): Somalia, 2 November 2017. —​—​—​, S/​2018/​1002, Report of the Monitoring Group on Somalia and Eritrea submitted in accordance with resolution 2385 (2017): Somalia, 9 November 2018. —​—​—​, S/​2021/​229, Final report of the Panel of Experts on Libya established pursuant to Security Council resolution 1973 (2011), 8 March 2021. —​—​—​, S/​2021/​569, Final report of the Panel of Experts on the Central African Republic extended pursuant to Security Council resolution 2536 (2020), 25 June 2021. United Nations Environment Programme, Greening the Blue Helmets: Environment, Natural Resources and UN Peacekeeping Operations, May 2012, www.unep.org/​resour​ces/​rep​ort/​ green​ing-​blue-​helm​ets-​envi​ronm​ent-​natu​ral-​resour​ces-​and-​un-​peace​keep​ing-​ope​ rati​ons. United Nations Security Council, “Narrative Summaries of Reasons for Listing”, www. un.org/​secu​r ity​coun​cil/​sancti​ons/​narrat​ive-​summar​ies.

6 WHAT ROLE FOR BUSINESS ACTORS IN UN PEACE OPERATIONS? Josie Lianna Kaye

An overwhelming “peace case” can and should be made for business actors operating in fragile and conflict-​affected settings (FCS) given their capacity to help foster peace or undermine it; evidence of the diverse roles they play in FCS is now extensively documented. Some of the most well-​known and, indeed, visible examples are those involving business actors “as mediators”: there is the well-​known example of Roland “Tiny” Rowland –​the former CEO of the Lonrho conglomerate, an extractives multinational corporation –​who played a critical role as a mediator and facilitator in Mozambique in the 1980s; there was the “Consultative Business Movement” that supported the negotiation of a new political settlement in post-​apartheid South Africa; in Northern Ireland the business community actively lobbied for peace and organised meetings with all the political parties that participated in the peace talks. And more recently, in Yemen, representatives of some of the most important business families actively worked behind the scenes to seek a peaceful end to the conflict at various points from 2011 onwards. On the other hand, there are also extensively documented examples of the negative if not catastrophic role business actors have played in fuelling and/​or exacerbating conflict through their operations, supply and value chains. The recognition of these nefarious roles has given rise to a wealth of regulatory frameworks and strategies designed to mitigate them including the EITI1, the Kimberley Process2, the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights3, and the “OECD Guidelines on Companies Operating in Weak Zones of Governance”.4 Despite the evident positive and negative roles played by business actors in countries in or transitioning out of conflict, in the realms –​both policy and practice –​ of negotiating peace settlements, also referred to here as “peace mediation”, the inclusion of business actors in peace efforts has yet to be meaningfully considered by the UN Security Council or the UN Secretariat. In the political space of peace mediation where warring parties come to the negotiating table to end violent DOI: 10.4324/9781003248637-7

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hostilities and co-​create a vision for peace –​a critical component in the toolbox of modern-​day UN peace operations whose primary endeavour is to secure a sustainable political settlement –​the notion that business actors have a meaningful role to play takes on an aura of taboo. In the international relations field in which peace studies “sit”, after all, businesses are understood as economic entities, and woefully neglected ones at that.5 What possible role could such profit-​oriented actors play in the political wrangling of peace mediation? As a result, those engaged in UN peace operations, regardless of whether they sit in headquarters (HQ) or in the field, tend to exhibit an endemic blind spot when it comes to business actors –​irrespective of whether the business actor in question is public or private, licit or illicit, formal or informal, local or international. Indeed, even the suggestion that business actors might have a role to play is often perceived by policymakers and practitioners alike as a controversial pro-​business, pro-​capitalist stance and an inappropriate inter-​mingling of profits with peace, in precisely the opposite way in which advocating for armed groups, or even terrorist groups, to be involved in peace mediation implies that one must be pro-​violence or “pro-​terror”. Even amongst the rare practitioners who believe business actors do have a role to play, the business actors they have in mind are often the “good” businesses: the “licit”, “formal”, “legitimate” ones, including local small and medium-​sized enterprises (SMEs), as well as multinational corporations (MNCs). The so-​called “informal”, “illicit” actors –​including weapons dealers, drug traffickers and criminal gangs –​are glaringly absent and, indeed, made invisible in the context of such narratives. Evidence of the exclusion of business actors from UN peace operations is indisputable. While the UN-​led discourse on inclusion has been extended from civil society to women, youth, and non-​state armed groups (NSAGs) –​including proscribed groups and the so-​called “pariah groups” –​business actors go unmentioned. In contrast to the vast normative framework relating to these actors, there are no academic articles linking the inclusion of business actors to the sustainability of peace agreements; there are no business and peace-​related conventions or declarations; there are no Security Council resolutions on business, peace and security;6 no Oslo forums dedicated to the topic; no UN guidance notes or internal briefings or protocols, no UN Staff College trainings or leaders advocating for business actors to be “included” in any peace-​related processes. As further evidence of their exclusion, only 13.3 per cent of peace agreements reference at least one “licit” business actor; 4.4 per cent reference “illicit” business actors; and, merely 2.5 per cent reference both –​just 22 peace agreements out of 889 in 30 years.7 When business actors are referenced, the average number of provisions is 1.79 per peace agreements for licit actors, and 1.62 for illicit actors, making them a peripheral concern given that most peace agreements contain dozens, if not hundreds, of provisions.8 The exclusion of business actors from the consideration of those working in or supporting UN peace operations is surprising, and perplexing, on three main counts. First, ever since former Secretary-​General Kofi Annan’s speech at Davos9 in 1999 where he called for a “new partnership among governments, the private sector, and the international community”10, there has been a shift away from approaching

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businesses as predominantly negative actors requiring regulation and/​or control, towards their hopeful recasting as peacemakers and peacebuilders. Whereas the early 2000s were dominated by strategies designed to mitigate the nefarious face of business in countries in conflict –​as mentioned above –​the last decade has seen a veritable explosion of initiatives that indeed make the “peace case for business”, including the Oslo-​based Business for Peace Foundation, the UN Global Compact’s Business for Peace (B4P) Platform, the appointment of a private sector focal point at the UN Peacebuilding Support Office and the 2018 UN-​Private Sector forum, Building and Investing in Peace for all, amongst others. Second, despite the “local turn” in peacebuilding –​which emerged as a response to the deficiencies of “top-​down”, technocratic engagements of the 1990s –​there is little evidence to suggest a shift towards meaningful engagement with local power dynamics in the context of UN peace operations. Meaningful engagement with local power dynamics, after all, would make it impossible to ignore the roles business actors play as critical powerholders.To the extent that shifts in engagement have occurred, they have focused on limited forms of local power, including formal and informal political authorities –​local governments, tribal and traditional leaders, for ­example –​rather than businesses or other so-​called economic actors. As this chapter will demonstrate, the roles played by business actors underscore the fact that businesses are both economic and political actors, with economic and political motivations, and certainly with both economic and political effects. Third, the efficacy of international peace and security architecture is increasingly being called into question.11 Conflicts over the past decade have increased in intensity, complexity and scope. For the first time since the end of the Cold War, the number of civil wars has almost tripled over the course of the past decade, with a sixfold increase in battle-​related deaths since 201112 –​peaking in 2016 with 53 countries experiencing conflict.13 According to the UN Secretary-​ General António Guterres, over 71 million people have been forcibly displaced by war, violence and persecution,14 resulting in the world’s largest humanitarian crisis since the end of the Second World War. Moreover, many locations in which peacekeeping operations take place today “face protracted crises with multiple adversaries, stalled peace processes, organized crime and attacks from violent extremists or terrorists”.15 As the complexity of conflict increases, so must the tools, practices and strategies used by peace and security actors to address them. In the small space for mediation which remains, this chapter argues, it is time to consider alternative ways of approaching peace –​including acknowledging, recognising and engaging with the political power of licit and illicit business actors. This chapter argues that the approach of UN peace operations to business actors is pre-​conditioned by a deeply entrenched understanding of business actors as economic (rather than political) actors whose prime “peace” role is in the private (rather than public) realms –​irrespective of whether they are licit or illicit; this understanding has been shaped by key events in the historical evolution of the UN system and precludes businesses from being seen and engaged as actors who have a meaningful contribution to make to political settlements. By acknowledging the

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socially constructed nature of this understanding, it becomes possible to explore alternative, more constructive ways of engaging with business actors tailored to the roles they play in any given context. A conceptual framework for understanding these roles is explored through the example of Yemen 2011–​2016; business actors, it is argued, play four often overlapping and certainly not mutually exclusive roles in war to peace transitions: as supporters and/​or humanitarian aid providers (or “benefactors”); as beneficiaries of the government and the war economy (“profiteers”); as mediators and peacemakers (“intermediaries”); and, as conflict actors or spoilers (“agitators”). Three avenues for improving the approach of UN peace operations to business actors are then explored. First, by recognising that the foundation of a normative framework for engagement already exists due to the UN-​led discourse on inclusion, the normative and pragmatic aspects of which are relevant to licit and illicit business actors alike. Second, by applying a “business lens in peace mediation” to UN peace operations, which can be used to bolster mediation strategies and processes; improve the content of peace agreements and inform the “structure” of political settlements –​thereby overcoming unhelpful silos. Third, a series of practical steps that UN peace operations can take to improve their expertise in this area is then explored with a view to generating enough “proof of concept” to work towards a UN Security Council Resolution on including business in peace.

The Definitional Challenge: What or Who Are “Business Actors”? What exactly do we mean by “business actors”? “Business” as a concept exists in a broader web of relevant concepts but is selected deliberately. The term business is preferred to other terms such as “corporation”, “private sector” or “entrepreneurs” since they are misleading on multiple fronts: “corporation” tends to denote international businesses (to the exclusion of vital local and/​or national business actors); the term “entrepreneurs” is often used to mean new or “fledgling” companies (ignoring many of the often long-​standing family-​held businesses operating in countries in conflict); similarly, the term “private sector” excludes businesses which may be government-​led or “public” in origin (publicly held or government-​ owned businesses also being prominent in countries in conflict). The concept of a “business” is also preferred as it is a comparatively more “open” term than the aforementioned concepts, which all direct our attention to the “formal” and the “licit” (rather than the informal and/​or illicit). Similarly, the term “actor” is preferred as it is a “collective term, capturing different types of corporate institutions and individuals, namely companies, business associations and interest groups as well as individual entrepreneurs and business executives”.16 Moreover, the use of the concept of “actor” underscores the agency of business actors in peace and conflict contexts. The terms “licit” and “illicit” are used here to denote business actors engaged in activities that may or may not be perceived as legitimate, predominantly in the eyes of the international community. “Licit” business actors are –​to state the

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obvious –​those engaged in activities considered and/​or perceived as “lawful” while illicit business actors are those engaged in activities considered “unlawful”. Formal and licit businesses operate according to broadly accepted set of “rules” and practices businesses are supposed to adhere to, even if the consequences of their actions contribute to inequality or environmental destruction –​these actions are those of legal entities, and such actors fall within a certain discourse of (albeit increasingly contested) acceptability. While informal business actors may include local farmers or women selling market goods, for example, “illicit” businesses, on the other hand, form part of markets considered “black”, in the “shadows”, operating according to rules often considered subversive or even criminal, lacking in the same level of relevance or legitimacy, irrespective of the roles they may play in fuelling conflict and/​ or providing a vital lifeline for communities. When alluding to “business actors”, therefore, this chapter refers to local or international economic entities operating in the private sphere, which have profit-​ oriented motives, and which may be licit or illicit in nature. Each of these terms, however –​economic, private, and illicit –​exists in relation to their conceptual others: political, public and licit. These ordering principles or dichotomies are central to how the UN system operates, that is, what is considered: “political” versus “economic”; “public” versus “private”; and, what constitutes “licit” versus “illicit” has explicit effects on how UN peace operations understand and engage –​or not –​ with business actors. Indeed, business actors are constructed as economic actors, whose prime “peace” role is through their agency in the “private” sphere –​contributing to peace through their so-​called “licit” business activities and, possibly, through an extension of their corporate social responsibility (CSR) agendas. Peace settlements, on the other hand, remain the prime domain of so-​called “political” actors whose goals are “public” in nature; illicit business actors are constructed as an affront to both the “political” and the “public”, which must be addressed through a “criminal” lens and, predominantly, the sanctions regime: such issues cannot be subject to negotiation or mediation. Underpinning the meaning we understand by these concepts are what Richard Ashley calls political practices, i.e., practices of power that fix and entrench a certain way of doing things while simultaneously silencing other ways of understanding and “doing” in the world.17 The political practices these terms have given rise to within the UN system must be understood if they are to be overcome. Let us take the distinction between “political” and “economic”.The architects of the post-​war order designed an international system that reinforced the artificial separation between these two spheres of activity: as elaborated during the inception of the UN in 1945, the cornerstone for international political cooperation was the Dumbarton Oaks proposal for a permanent UN; the cornerstone for international economic cooperation was the Bretton Woods proposal for an International Monetary Fund (IMF) and an International Bank for Reconstruction and Development (IBRD).This division had the effect of isolating international peace and security actors from giving due consideration to the political impacts of markets and businesses. Similarly, within international financial institutions (IFIs), the “political” was ring-​fenced from the “economic”: the

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World Bank’s articles of agreement state that the Bank and its officers must “not interfere in the political affairs of any member; nor shall they be influenced in their decisions by the political character of the members concerned”; a similar “doctrine of economic neutrality” exists in the Articles of Agreement of the International Monetary Fund (IMF). This artificial distinction is deeply embedded in the UN peace operations: as famously lamented by Alvaro de Soto and Graciana del Castillo, when the UN engaged in its first ever peace negotiations in El Salvador in the early 1990s, it did not think to consult the World Bank or the IMF –​even on those parts of the peace agreement pertaining to economic issues. Similarly, the adjustment programme and stabilisation plan were elaborated by IFIs without coordinating with the UN system: “It was as if a patient lay on the operating table with the left and right sides of his body separated by a curtain and unrelated surgery being performed on each side”.18 Efforts to overcome this structural bifurcation have been in vain: the UN System’s “set up” resists such changes. The Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC), for example, which is the only principal organ with an implicit mandate to interact with business, is also the only principal organ that has “neither legislative nor executive authority”.19 Similarly, the International Chamber of Commerce (ICC) –​founded in 1919 –​is the only business entity to have been awarded consultative status with a principal organ (ECOSOC)20; the UN Charter, however, states that ECOSOC “may make suitable arrangements for consultation with non-​governmental organizations”, with no specific mention of business.21 Economic and political issues are also siloed within the UN Secretariat: the UN Department of Economic and Social Affairs (DESA) services ECOSOC, whereas the DPPA serves both the UNSC and General Assembly, both of which have legislative and executive authority. This helps explain why “business actors” are viewed as outside the mandate of UN peace operations: they are economic actors –​the presumed realm of the Bank or the IMF but certainly outside the comfort zone of the UN Secretariat’s political work. Business actors are also viewed as having little to no role to play in the “public realm” of political settlements because their interests, operations and impacts are of a “private” nature. One of the most important events in UN history for entrenching the “public–​ private” dichotomy was the establishment of the Commission on Transnational Corporations –​by ECOSOC –​to negotiate the “Code of Conduct on Transnational Corporations” (CoC) in the early 1970s. Under the CoC, it was proposed that the “state would pledge to ensure that foreign investors respected national and human rights, disclosed relevant information to host governments about their operations, refrained from transfer pricing and resolved other points of contention”.22 The idea of “binding” corporate regulation was at the heart of this politicised debate: capitalist countries from the Global North (which benefited most from minimal regulation) favoured less or no regulation, while communist countries from the Global South (which suffered the most from the liberal market) envisioned a maximalist role for states in terms of regulating companies. Despite decades of work on the CoC, and the wide support base of the G77, the reform

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agenda ultimately failed. By 1992, despite agreement on around 80 per cent of the code, the international negotiations ended.23 Businesses would be subject to the “private” rules of the market, not the “public” rules of states. The success of these “rules of the game” is epitomised by the Washington Consensus, which dictated that the development trajectory of the Global South was dependent on free markets and minimal state involvement.The consequences of this “false” separation were profound. Whereas during the 1970s the IMF was engaged in only around 10 stabilisation programmes24 a year, by 1980 it was engaged in 28 and by 1985 there were 129 more.25 The effects of stabilisation programmes have been destructive, augmenting debt and entrenching rather than resolving conflict. The neoclassical belief in the power of the “free market” and the “invisible hand” is, after all, based on questionable assumptions, even in countries not experiencing conflict. At the core of this approach is the notion that markets –​devoid of or with only minimal government interference –​will result in the greatest efficiency and stability.26 However, this assumes both perfect information and “rational actors” –​ two assumptions which are only true in the world of abstraction, theory and 2x2 models. Rather than fostering stability, “competition in credit markets is inherently destabilizing, creating a boom-​and-​bust business cycle.”27 If competition in markets not experiencing conflict is inherently de-​stabilising, understanding the effects in countries without effective governments, rule of law or efficient institutions requires little imagination. And yet, UN peace operations tend not to have any economic expertise whatsoever to understand and grapple with the effects of these dynamics, let alone experts on how to engage with business actors. The third binary –​“licit” and “illicit” –​and its evolution within the UN system has also had profound effects on how business actors are approached, or not, in the context of UN peace operations. A broad set of international conventions and standards have been put in place to combat actors operating illegally, including through “illicit financial flows” and “illegal trade”. These include universal legal obligations, such as the Vienna Convention and the Palermo Convention; international standards, including the OECD Anti-​Bribery Convention and a wide range of legal instruments within the UN system.28 In the context of countries in conflict, these “financial flows”, “criminal activities” and trade in “illicit goods” have given rise to the concept of “war economies.” According to Kaysie Brown, this link was first articulated in the context of a 2000 UNSCR entitled “Maintenance of Peace and Security, particularly in Africa”, which offered to “take resolute action in areas where the illegal exploitation and trafficking of high-​ value commodities contribute to the escalation or continuation of conflict” (UN Resolution S/​RES/​1318).29 The resolution arose, in part, against the backdrop of the establishment of the first “Panel of Experts” in 1999, under UNSC 1237, tasked with analysing the linkages between war economies, trade, commerce and conflict dynamics.30 In parallel and as part of this discourse, there has been an increased focus on sanctions as part of UNSC tools for addressing dynamics of peace and security, particularly concerning the exploitation of natural resources and the financing of armed groups.

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The sanctions regime has evolved considerably since the end of the Cold War. While sanctions were originally “comprehensive” –​for Iraq, Haiti and the former Yugoslavia, for example, and meaning they were against states and/​or the economies of specific states31 –​with time they have become increasingly targeted. Targeted sanctions32 evolved as a response to the ineffectiveness of comprehensive sanctions, thereby institutionalising the practice of holding non-​state actors, including individuals, “accountable before the international community”.33 Supposedly underpinning the rationale behind this approach is the belief that “a state (or a political group) will change as a consequence of the pressure imposed on key individuals and non-​state entities in the decision-​making process”.34 Research published in 2015 demonstrated that 63 “asset freeze” sanctions had been applied to individuals or corporate entities, compared to 30 for political entities, 16 for governments and 13 for rebel fractions.35 The sanctions regime has thus become the predominant “tool” through which business actors are targeted in the context of UN peace operations. Sanctions are problematic in this regard on several levels: first, they tend to be “sectoral” and target arms and commodities –​such as petroleum, timber, charcoal and luxury goods –​seeming to erroneously imply that only certain goods can be used to support war/​armed groups (any goods or services can be used to support NSAGs/​“rogue” governments). Second, they ignore the fact that illicit and licit actors and activities cannot be neatly separated into distinct realms; the lines dividing black, grey and white markets are conceptual rather than factual. Indeed, the same individuals tend to participate in both: “a commodity may pass between the two in the course of successive transactions, unofficial and official modes of importation may be combined at all stages of the journey”.36 Carolyn Nordstrom suggests that 90 per cent of Angola’s economy; 50 per cent of economies of Kenya, Italy and Peru; 40 to 60 per cent of Russia’s economy; and between 10 and 30 per cent of the United States economy enter into extra-​state transactions.37 Third, and linked to the second, war economies and the broader economies of war of which they are a part depend on one another for survival. Illicit phenomena are an expression of socio-​ political as well as economic forms of power –​central therefore to the nature of the state in war to peace transitions. As a result, the individualisation inherent to the sanctions regime lays the “blame” for conflict on key actors –​often framed as being either “rogue locals” or “transnational” in nature –​conveniently diverts attention away from the (economic and political) systems in which they operate. As long as illicit business actors are treated predominantly through the sanctions regime –​ thereby treating the symptom rather than the cause –​UN peace operations will fail to foster the conditions for sustainable peace to emerge.

A Framework for Understanding the Roles of Business Actors in UN Peace Operations The belief that political and economic realities are separate, or at least function according to different sets of norms and rules, contributes to UN peace operations in which it is considered entirely acceptable, indeed normal, to treat these two issues

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independently of one another –​if the latter is to be treated at all. The notion that public and private realms are two different spheres of action has led to a false and highly problematic separation between peace mediation efforts to resolve conflict on the one hand, and macro-​economic stabilisation programmes with the potential to exacerbate it on the other hand –​leading to a well-​entrenched disconnect between the so-​called “pre” and “post-​conflict” realms. And, the distinction between licit and illicit actors belies a reality in which both are institutionally embedded in the same societal realms; the discourse of criminalisation, implemented in part through the sanctions regime, creates unnecessary hurdles for those working in UN peace operations to be able to engage with actors who may be best placed to help foster solutions that resolve conflict. Just as people take up arms against a “political” system from which they are excluded, perhaps it is time to consider that people take up alternative forms of livelihoods against an “economic” system from which they, too, are endemically excluded. Neither violence nor crime is condoned by acknowledging these social “facts”. These three issues combined highlight the missed opportunities associated with the exclusion of business actors, while simultaneously suggesting that such an oversight may be contributing to unsustainable peace, and cyclical patterns of violence. If we accept, therefore, that business actors are both political and economic actors which play a role in both public and private realms –​regardless of whether they are considered licit or illicit in nature –​it becomes possible to engage meaningfully with local power dynamics, with business actors as a solid entry-​point. Any understanding of business actors must leave behind Western preconceptions of what we think motivates business actors (i.e. not always profit) or how we think business should behave (i.e. not always according to what might be considered “rational”). Much like traditionally labelled “political” actors, business actors cannot be extricated from the historical, cultural, socio-​political and economic environments in which they exist, nor from the power struggles that dominate these realms. Through this lens, business actors –​both “licit” and “illicit” –​can support and undermine peace settlements since they represent the confluence of local, national/​ sub-​national, regional and international power dynamics. The precise roles they play can be organised into four key categories: benefactors, profiteers, intermediaries and agitators. It is important to suspend normative judgement about these roles: benefactors and intermediaries are not necessarily and/​or only positive from the perspective of peace, in the same way that profiteers and/​or agitators are not necessarily and/​or only negative from the perspective of peace. Moreover, any given business actor may play several roles simultaneously or they may play different roles as the conflict evolves. First, business actors serve as “benefactors” or humanitarians. Business actors often provide a vital lifeline for their communities and may be the first to “step up” when a crisis hits or when a situation begins to deteriorate. The forms of support provided may be wide-​ranging and may serve different political, economic, social or cultural purposes. In Yemen, for example, in 2011, the tribal groups and the traditional merchant elite found themselves in the same “camp” when

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both –​for different reasons –​provided support to the demonstrators. Traditional merchant elites such as the Hayal Saeed Group and the Thabet Group and many others provided the protestors with food, medicines and generators.38 Some of these businessmen went one step further and brought university professors to stay with the youth “to discuss what kind of change they wanted to see and how to protest in the ‘right’ way”.39 Others provided the protestors with head cameras to document the violence inflicted upon them, predominantly by regime forces.40 The Al-​Ahmar family, a long-​standing political rival of Saleh with extensive business interests, also supported the protestors, providing them with a large tent, a kitchen and publicising their cause through their media channel.41 Furthermore, grappling with the absence of the state and poor infrastructure, businesses contributed their services in ways that were instrumental to the Yemeni people by building roads, carrying out infrastructure projects and providing energy. Second, businesses play the role of “beneficiary”, reaping the benefits of their roles, and/​or in expanding the war economy as “profiteers”; these entities support actors, dynamics or systems that benefit them the most, their primary goal being financial gain. All major business actors in Yemen benefitted from the system: it was impossible to do business without being “close” to the government. However, some business actors benefited more than others. Businessman Ahmed Saleh Al-​Essi42, for example, was appointed as Deputy Director for Economic Affairs in the President’s Office in the Hadi Government. Al-​Essi made his fortune through legal and illegal means as controller of fuel imports through the port of Aden; he now serves as “political gatekeeper.” Since 2015, fuel smuggling has become the largest illicit business in Yemen; it is estimated that there are 25 new companies working in this sector from Dubai alone.While many business actors have profited from smuggling, the collapse of the banking sector and the erosion of the Central Bank’s regulatory functions have provided new opportunities for international money transfers: “A network of currency exchangers with links to the warring parties operate this black market, sharing their gains with the different parties in return for protection and permission to operate”.43 When so many businessmen are involved in both licit and illicit transactions, the line between business leaders, militias and warlords has become increasingly “fuzzy”. Third, businesses serve as mediators and peacemakers; they leverage their power and influence to seek solutions to the conflict or de-​escalate crises. In Yemen, business actors served as “intermediaries” at various critical moments during the 2011–​2016 period. In 2011, when the protestors were calling for President Saleh to step down, a group of businessmen established a “Mediation Committee” made up of around ten representatives of the largest families in the Chamber of Commerce.44 The Committee met with all relevant political stakeholders and, after several rounds of consultation, decided to propose that the president should resign one year later, cutting his remaining term into half, but leaving enough time for an orderly transition; the group planned to announce the proposal in the context of a press conference. However, the killing of protestors on March 18 led to a complete abandonment of the initiative as business actors no longer believed that there was a

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decent exit option for the president. A similar mediation initiative was launched by business actors in August 2014 in response to an escalation of the conflict with the Houthis; the group of businessmen “shuttled” between Hadi, the Houthis and other political figures but to no avail. Lastly, business actors also play the role of agitator and “conflict-​maker” –​sometimes also serving as “spoilers”; whereas profiteers’ main goal is financial gain, agitators’ goals are often explicitly political or ideological in nature; they do not only benefit from the conflict, they are central to it. Businesses affiliated with the military such as the Yemeni Economical Corporation (YECO) –​formerly the Military Economic Corporation (MECO) –​a government entity headed by a close Saleh ally, is accused of financing attacks on the 2011 protestors; witnesses claim that he sent gunmen to use live bullets to disperse demonstrators.45 Former President Saleh and Hamid Al-​Ahmar –​the family’s most successful entrepreneur46 –​furthermore, have used their extensive business wealth to support and influence the Houthis and the “anti-​Houthis”, respectively, by providing weapons and financial support. One well-​established trade and contracting company is said to have provided extensive financial and logistical aid to the Houthis;47 some businessmen have provided support in kind, through the use of their hotels, transport facilities and communication while others have been “obliged” to provide support through taxes and levies to either protect their factories or to be able to travel/​operate in certain areas. Demonstrating the “fuzziness” of lines also between business and “terrorism”, many armed groups are financed through the provision of “services” and illicit business activities. According to Yemeni officials interviewed by the UN Panel of Experts, Al-​Qaida in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP) is “mainly funded through the payment of ransom for kidnapped foreigners and the looting of banks.”48 Despite the extensive roles played by business actors in Yemen and the diverse opportunities to address, mitigate or leverage these roles, business actors in the period from 2011 to 2016 were endemically excluded from the consideration of the political mission. The UN Office of the Special Envoy of the Secretary-General for Yemen (OSESGY) not only lacked political economic analysis (PEA): it was not “guided by any structured analysis of the various stakeholder groups involved in the transition and their underlying interests”49 at all. As one OSESGY member acknowledged, even if they had completed or requested PEA, “we would not necessarily have known what to do with it”50 since the mission lacked PEA expertise and was focused on a narrower “blueprint” of what the peace process would look like (i.e. government plus “rebels”). As a result, many interviewees from or supporting the OSESGY felt the team was “unprepared”51, “out of its depth”52 and almost entirely lacking any understanding of informal power structures, or economic perspectives.53 It is not surprising, therefore, that business actors were excluded from contributing –​formally or informally –​to the transition agreement of 2011, the planning of the National Dialogue Conference (NDC) of 2014, or to the negotiations held in Geneva and Kuwait in 2015 and 2016, respectively. With regard to the NDC specifically, only 3 out of 565 seats at the NDC were allocated specifically to the private sector compared to 40 seats allocated for women, youth and civil society

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each (a total of 120 seats).54 Despite the marginalisation of business actors from the NDC process, the NDC Outcome Document features 54 provisions in which businesses55 are mentioned as an actor (the average is 13), but interestingly none of those references pertain to informal or illicit business actors. One UN official compared the UN’s approach to a flight operating at 30,000 ft. from where it is easy to focus only on the two most visible parties, losing sight of the sub-​national and local dynamics.56 While experts were brought in to advise on gender, process design and constitutional reform, expertise on business actors was not sought, i.e. the mission did not conduct political economy analysis; and expertise on business and human rights, business and peace, or on war and/​or peace economies were not sought and no efforts were made to explore the conflict-​sensitivity (or otherwise) of the business sector on the one hand, nor of the business-​sensitivity of the political mission on the other. Only in 2016, six years into the UN mission –​despite much interest on the part of the business community to engage with the special envoy and after having missed diverse opportunities for engagement –​did the UN finally begin engaging with the business community, particularly around issues related to the Central Bank. How can this situation be avoided in the future? How can UN peace operations be equipped to better able to include business in peace?

Enabling UN Peace Operations to Include Business in Peace First, it is important to recognise that the foundations for a normative framework for engaging with business actors already exist –​albeit not “codified” in the form of a much-​needed UN Security Council resolution –​due to the extensive discourse on inclusion. Both the normative and pragmatic arguments for including civil society, women, youth and NSAGs in peace can and should be applied to business actors. As a key part of any society, including businesses is likely to broaden societal support for peace much like the inclusion of women, youth and civil society. It is important to consider the reach of business actors due to their horizontal and vertical linkages, i.e., from local populations hired as employees to government representatives on the one hand, and across different parts of the country and, potentially, conflict lines on the other due to their operations, supply and value chains. From a substantive perspective, business actors have specific knowledge about formal and informal centres of power, the economy, trade routes, conditions on the ground, intimate knowledge of how the country is integrated in regional and global political economies, etc., all of which can help inform the peace mediation agenda and, potentially, the provisions of a peace settlements. From an implementation perspective, businesses with their vast networks can use their political capital and knowledge to advocate for the implementation of the agreement in the post-​conflict phases. Furthermore, it is evident that conflict adversely effects many businesses, particularly since many are often actively targeted during conflict. While it may be unpalatable in an era of increasing anti-​capitalist, anti-​business sentiment to consider business actors as “victims” of conflict in any sense (not least, since the notion of businesses as conflict instigators is deeply engrained in many people’s imaginations),

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in many conflict contexts business actors may witness generations of hard work –​ and their livelihoods –​wiped out. The pragmatic rationale for inclusion, normally extended to NSAGs, also evidently applies. Business actors –​as a result of their relationships with powerbrokers at the political level, and hundreds and thousands of families often dependent on them for survival –​could pass the actor of “relevance test” on multiple fronts; quite simply, without businesses, both the state and armed groups, for example, would lack the funding for recruitment and weapons, and local populations would struggle even more for basic survival. Business actors that have flourished in the context of the war economy may feel threatened by the emerging peace and therefore “qualify” for inclusion on the grounds of an expanded definition of the “spoiler term” to include “the activities of any actors that are opposed to peaceful settlement for whatever reason.”57 Moreover, in the same way that actors considered “morally repugnant” do not necessarily get a seat at the table, businesses in the illicit sector can contribute meaningfully to a mediation strategy without such a seat, including those who may be involved in trafficking of people, drugs and weapons. Illicit business actors are likely to have a vast wealth of knowledge about conflict dynamics, many communities may be dependent on them for survival, and the failure to bring them on board of any emerging peace settlement –​and to consider alternative livelihood strategies –​could result in them deliberately or inadvertently undermining the peace process.While the notion that actors whose sole motivation is “economic” may be advanced for not reaching out to smugglers, for example, mediators can be encouraged to take a pragmatic approach to such engagement by suspending their moral judgement, in the same way they might for so-​called “pariah groups”. And, in contexts where the UN is not able to engage with such groups for reasons of (political or moral) sensitivity, time or resources, engagement can also be “out-​sourced” to smaller mediation entities able to work behind the scenes when it is deemed that engagement could contribute to a constructive mediation process. To date, however, this type of “constructive ambiguity” has yet to be applied consistently to business actors but has been used extensively with NSAGs, including terrorist groups. Since both licit and illicit business actors are often able to thrive in conflict contexts despite or because of the vast challenges they face, they form in fact part of the natural, “home-​g rown” resilience of societies. It should be noted that this form of resilience is not meant to absolve international actors of their complicity in creating and sustaining conflicts by laying responsibility for conflict dynamics at the feet of local actors.58 Rather, local licit and illicit business actors represent, in diverse ways, the epitome of actors willing and able to cross so many of the binaries and categorisations imposed on societies from the “outside”, and which are often so prevalent in countries in conflict. Whether these are lines: between local and international –​since business actors are adept at connecting the two; between ethnic, religious or political –​since business actors are often more likely to cross these lines than any other actors through their operations and extensive business networks; or the lines of the everyday peace –​encapsulated by the “routinized

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practices used by individuals and collectives as they navigate their way through life in a deeply divided society”59 –​and the more formal, top-​down peace, as a result of their connections with local communities on the one hand, and elite political leaders on the other hand. These attributes that make business actors uniquely positioned to foster and sustain peace at Track I, II and III levels, and between them. At a time when conflicts are increasingly internationalised, often freezing the UN Security Council or hampering top-​down peace mediation efforts, the potential of such actors should be seized upon and explored more seriously by international mediators and the institutions of which they are a part. Second, UN peace operations should apply a “business lens in peace mediation”. The lens can be applied to bolster mediation strategies and processes by turning to business actors to influence the parties, mobilise support for certain actions and use their leverage both in terms of national-​level and local-​level “bottom-​up” processes; business actors in the intermediary or benefactor categories can be leveraged. Former Special Representative of the Secretary-​ General (SRSG) Michael Keating, for ­example –​one of the few to take a proactive approach to business actors –​engaged the business community in Somalia to respond to the humanitarian crisis and to help keep market prices stable; he also supported Government efforts to engage the private sector in helping Somalia to qualify for debt relief by encouraging businesses to pay taxes and import duties.60 Mediators should recognise that some business actors behave as spoilers with vested interests in conflict –​whether as profiteers or agitators –​and must, therefore, develop comprehensive, tailored strategies to engage with and/​or marginalise them, in much the same way they would with NSAGs. Given that business actors are deeply embedded in the social contexts in which they operate, they can also leverage the diverse relationships they hold with government actors, political parties, parliamentary members, armed groups, “pariah groups” and other critical social actors: all four categories of business actors can play this role. In addition to the bilateral linkages business actors may have with these particular groups –​and given the nature of markets to “cross” political lines –​many business actors are inherently well placed to move vertically and horizontally across the conflict landscape, an ability which can be used to the benefit of peace through roles as “insider mediators”.61 A local business lens in peace mediation can also be applied in terms of mediation content in two key ways. Since business actors –​across all four categories –​are rarely confined solely to the licit or illicit sector, their participation can foster dialogue about the nefarious effects of the liberal economy, while similarly shedding light on “shadow economies”. Just as unrestrained neo-​liberal economic systems can be disastrous for countries emerging from conflict –​often exacerbating and confounding the dynamics of inequality at the heart of violence –​organised criminal groups can use political transitions “to shape the state, the economy and society to fulfil their own interests”.62 Non-​ UN mediators, for example, can provide insights from “behind the scenes” workshops they held with illicit business actors both to better understand the war economy and to help such actors think through how to transition out of it or even to try to influence those funding armed groups.63

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Ignoring these dynamics or expecting the emergence of post-​conflict “peace” to make them magically disappear is highly detrimental to the prospects for sustainable peace: state–​society–​market relations must be part of the dialogue and there is no reason to distinguish criminal groups from the host of other “difficult actors” international mediators engage with, and “include”. Moreover, the inclusion of business actors can help ensure that peace agreements contain locally relevant economic provisions and economically-​sensitive political provisions –​vital since “provisions determine the conditions for post-​conflict peace”.64 Susan Woodward, Graciana Del Castillo, Achim Wennmann and Hugo De Vries all agree that “leaving economic issues like the control and exploitation of and trade in natural resources unaddressed permits the structural conditions for violence to persist”65 and that the failure to address economic issues early on makes mediation attempts increasingly difficult and subject to spoiler behaviour.66 Agreements can, and should, serve as tools for post-​conflict peacebuilding,67 which requires moving the issue of “war economies” more “upstream” into the peace agreement.68 Indeed, business actors often have an in-​depth understanding of the economy, its key actors and what is required for peace.While mediators must avoid “capture” by business actors –​much like with NSAGs –​knowledge of the formal/​ informal, licit/​illicit economy can be used to promote locally-​sensitive and inclusive post-​conflict development through the inclusion of appropriate provisions in peace settlements. And, a local business lens in peace mediation can help overcome two key challenges associated with mediation “structure”. The first concerns the siloed international approaches to political mediation on the one hand and post-​conflict reconstruction on the other; this chapter suggests that business actors can serve as a “bridge” between these two realms. As underscored by Wennmann, “peace negotiations and post-​conflict economic recovery are often perceived as two distinct operations that are conducted in different contexts and by different institutions”.69 This is evidenced by the “blind spot” of the international community towards business actors during the peace mediation phase who become the “darlings” of international peacebuilding during the post-​conflict reconstruction phase –​suddenly responsible for and capable of fostering job generation, economic rejuvenation and of producing economic peace “dividends”. Furthermore, the approach to supporting businesses in post-​conflict reconstruction efforts tends to follow the well-​documented “development as usual” approach, “as if economic development were not constrained by the consequences of war”.70 By including business actors in peace, the linkage between these two isolated spheres can better resemble a continuum, where the requirements of development from an economic perspective are informed by the realities of the (post-​)conflict context from a “peace” perspective. Furthermore, the inclusion of business actors can help address the dichotomy between economic and political issues, and economic and political actors. These divides manifest themselves in particular through the stabilisation model/​structural adjustment programmes pursued by IFIs, which are often in direct “conflict with the goals of social peace and reconciliation”.71 In this regard, peace mediation

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teams lack economists, just as IFIs lack experts in peace mediation. Since business actors are both political and economic actors, their inclusion may serve as an entry-​ point and a catalyst for greater collaboration between the UN and IFIs in conflict contexts: an actor around which these two actors can come together, balanced by the local, thoroughly contextualised understanding of the conflict that business actors provide. Third, in practice, there are very tangible steps that can be taken to ensure the four roles played by business actors are meaningfully incorporated into the “business lens in peace mediation”. First, the work of UN peace operations must be grounded in a political economy analysis which includes the role of business actors –​licit and illicit –​as an integral and vital part of that analysis. Second, staff across missions (and not only those working in civil affairs) must be equipped with the skill-​set to translate the findings of political economy analysis meaningfully into practice –​in a conflict-​sensitive manner –​and how to understand and engage meaningfully with business actors. Third, missions must be equipped with economists, with a specialisation in war economies and war to peace transitions: no peace settlement should be elaborated without the expertise of economists. Fourth, “including business in peace” must move beyond the simplistic notion that business actors must have a seat at the table or can mediate a peace agreement; it goes without saying that these opportunities should be explored when they arise and make sense. But, more importantly, UN peace operations must be designed in a manner that considers the roles that business actors play –​through their operations, their supply and value chains –​in the elaboration of peace-​related strategies at national and local levels. Fifth, the focus of peace operations must shift away from the narrow objective of securing political settlements, towards the broader goals of securing peace writ large; when peace is the objective, it becomes evident that power-​sharing deals and security sector reform will not put food on the table nor provide meaningful, sustainable jobs –​the very peace dividends considered so vital once a peace agreement has been signed. The importance of jobs –​and the relationship between the state and the market that will ultimately shape the nature/​quality of those jobs, the type of business actors that provide them and the impacts that such business actors and their supply chains have on the conflict context –​must be considered as an integral part of emerging peace settlements, not an afterthought and certainly not an issue that the “invisible hand” alone will solve. Lastly, through trial and error, UN peace operations can contribute to a body of knowledge on how to engage with licit and illicit business actors that can form the basis for a UN Security Council resolution on including business in peace.

Conclusion The exclusion of business actors from peace mediation is not an inevitable fait accompli and nor can it be explained on the basis of the roles they play in war to peace transitions. Businesses are not excluded from peace mediation because they are irrelevant actors who have little bearing on the way in which conflicts erupt

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and evolve over time, nor as a result of their (in)capacity, resources or willingness to influence –​positively and negatively –​the effectiveness and sustainability of peace mediation. Given the inclusion of NSAGs, terrorist groups and so-​called “pariah groups” –​whose ability to inflict indiscriminate violence on innocent civilians has caused incalculable suffering and damage to livelihoods –​their exclusion, furthermore, cannot be explained by a simple reference to moral or ethical quandaries around which actors, according to which “yard stick”, can and should be recognised, acknowledged and included in efforts to resolve conflict and build peace. Their exclusion raises important questions for the field of peace mediation, and points to critical areas where significant changes will be required to ensure UN peace operations are “fit for purpose”. That said, many pressing “how” related questions remain unaddressed and merit further practice-​oriented research. How to engage business actors in a manner that transforms rather than entrenches power relations? Given that many prominent businesses are male-​dominated entities, how to ensure women’s voices are included in the approach to business and peace? How to bring political and economic relationships out of the shadows to positive effect? How to provide a space, amidst the often crushing dominance of the international economic system for diverse local expressions of the desired relationship between the state and the market? How, when and in what manner/​sequence to engage licit and illicit business actors to best effect? The answers to these tough questions are not presented here; the difficulty of answering these questions, however, should not justify shying away from exploring meaningfully the responses. Just a decade or two ago, it was common to state “we don’t negotiate with terrorists!” just as today, if considered at all, it is common to state that both that “we don’t negotiate with profit-​making entities!” or that “we don’t negotiate with criminal groups!” The boundaries of the acceptability of engaging with terrorist groups have given way to the practicality of doing so, i.e., with time, the issue of whether or not to engage has been overtaken by more practical questions of how to go about it. These types of shifts come about with a dose of pragmatism, and a recognition that those actors who are part of the problem must become part of the solution. Moreover, just as different courses of action are fraught with risks, inaction itself is also not risk-​free: the failure to act also has consequences.

Notes 1 The Extractives Industry Transparency Initiative, “eiti.org,” last accessed March 30, 2022, https://​eiti.org/​. 2 Kimberley Process, “kimberleyprocess.com”, last accessed March 30, 2022, www.kimbe​ rley​proc​ess.com/​ 3 United Nations Human Rights Office of the High Commissioner, Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights: Implementing the United Nations ‘Protect, Respect and Remedy’ Framework, UN Doc. HR/​PUB/​11/​04, 2011. 4 Organisation for Economic Co-​ operation and Development (OECD), OECD Risk Awareness Tool for Multinational Enterprises in Weak Governance Zones, OECD, 2006.

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5 See Susan L.Woodward,“Soft Intervention and the Puzzling Neglect of Economic Actors,” in Strengthening Peace in Post-​Civil War States: Transforming Spoilers into Stakeholders, ed. Matthew Hoodie and Caroline A. Hartzell (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2010). 6 There was one Security Council discussion on the role of business in conflict prevention, peacekeeping, post-​conflict peace-​building in April 2004, focused on the ‘economic dimensions of armed conflict’. This did not lead to any Security Council Resolutions. See: SC/​8058. 7 The written agreements serve as a proxy rather than evidence for understanding business inclusion since the fact that they “appear” in the text of an agreement does not necessarily imply that they were included in the peace negotiation process or in the elaboration of the peace settlement. 8 This research was undertaken using the University of Edinburgh’s Peace Agreements Database (PA-​ X Version 2). Research within the PA-​ X database was undertaken using key concepts associated with businesses as actors, including typically “formal” terms: “business”, “corporation”, “company”, and, “private sector”; and, concepts typically associated with “informal” business actors: “informal”; “illicit”, “traffickers/​ smugglers”, “cartels” and “criminal groups”. A contextualised analysis of each term was then undertaken according to scope and frequency: Scope is measured on a scale of 1 to 3 whereby “1” indicates that the actor is mentioned, but only in passing; more often than not, this indicates that a business actor was referred to once, either in isolation, or as part of a longer list of other stakeholders; “2” indicates that the actor is mentioned in context, i.e. some understanding of the demands or expectations being placed on the actor, or the commitments made is provided; “3” indicates a greater level of detail, i.e. specific references to the actor in question are made, normally with some reference to a timeframe and/​or location and/​or level of granularity which went above and beyond merely putting the actor in context. Frequency is measured in terms of the number of provisions per agreement that are relevant to the actor in question. 9 United Nations Secretary-​General, UN Doc. SG/​SM/​6881, February 1, 1999. 10 George Kell and Sandrine Tesner, The United Nations and Business: A Partnership Recovered (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 2000), p. xxii. 11 In 2015, the UN concluded a number of high-​level policy processes designed to answer the question: “Is the UN ‘fit for purpose?’ This included the Report of the High-​Level Panel on Peace Operations (commonly referred to as the HIPPO report); the 2015 Review of the United Nations Peacebuilding Architecture; and, the Global Study on the Implementation of the United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325. 12 Sebastian von Einsiedel with Louise Bosetti, James Cockayne, Cale Salih, and Wilfred Wan, “Civil War Trends and the Changing Nature of Armed Conflict,” United Nations University Centre for Policy Research, Occasional Paper 10 (2017), p. 2. 13 Kendra Dupuy and Siri Aas Rustad, “Trends in Armed Conflict, 1946-​2017”, Conflict Trends, no. 5, PRIO (2018), p. 1. 14 United Nations, Report of the Secretary-​General on the Work of the Organisation, UN Doc. A/​ 74/​1, 2019, p. 23. 15 United Nations, Report of the Secretary-​General, p. 15. 16 Andrea Iff and Rina M. Alluri, “Business Actors in Peace Mediation Processes,” Business and Society Review vol. 121, no. 2, 2016, p. 188. 17 Richard K. Ashley, “Living on Border Lines: Man, Poststructuralism, and War,” in International/​Intertextual Relations, Postmodern Readings of World Politics, ed. James Der Derian and Michael J. Shapiro (New York: Macmillan, 1989), pp. 28–​29. 18 Alvaro de Soto and Graciana del Castillo, “Obstacles to Peacebuilding,” Foreign Policy, no. 94 (1994), pp. 72–​3.

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19 Kell and Tesner, The United Nations and Business, p. 9. 20 Or with any other body, for that matter. 21 Kell and Tesner, The United Nations and Business, p. 9. 22 Virgnia Haufler, A Public Role for the Private Sector: Industry Self-​Regulation in a Global Economy (Washington D.C.: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 2001), p. 16. 23 Ibid., p. 16. 24 ‘Stabilization programmes’ in this chapter refers to policies reduce government intervention in the economy in favour of market mechanisms; the policies aim to address high domestic rates of inflation and a deficit in the balance of payments. In the 1980s and 1990s, the core tenets of stabilisation programmes –​often referred to as structural adjustment programmes –​were premised on four objectives: economic stabilisation, liberalisation, deregulation and privatisation. Access to loans from the IMF and the World Bank were conditional on adherence to such policies. 25 Ian Smillie, “Developing Conflict-​ sensitive Aid: the Relationship between Aid and Conflict,” in Oli Brown, Pena Moreno and Sebastian Winkler (eds.), Trade, Aid and Security: An Agenda for Peace and Development (London: Earthscan Limited, 2007), p. 47. 26 James H. Nolt, International Political Economy: the Business of War and Peace (London and New York: Routledge, 2015), p. 29. 27 Amitav Acharya and Barry Buzan, “Why Is There No Non-​ Western International Relations Theory? An Introduction”, in Amitav Acharya and Barry Buzan (eds.), Non-​ Western International Relations Theory: Perspectives on and beyond Asia (London: Routledge, 2010), p. 31. 28 Such as: UN Convention against Illicit Traffic in Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Substances (1988); International Convention for the Suppression of the Financing of Terrorism (1999); UN Convention against Transnational Organized Crime (2003); UN Convention against Corruption (2005) and a wide range of UNSCRs, to name only a few. See: Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD), ‘Policy coherence in combating illicit financial flows’, PCSD thematic module, Draft, OECD, 2015; and,World Economic Forum (WEF),‘State of the illicit economy’, Briefing Papers, Global Agenda, October 2015. 29 Kaysie Brown, “War Economies and Post-​Conflict Peacebuilding: Identifying a Weak Link,” Journal of Peacebuilding and Development vol. 3, no. 2, 2012, p. 9. 30 Ibid., “War Economies”, p. 9. 31 Francesco Giumelli, “Understanding United Nations Targeted Sanctions: An Empirical Analysis,” International Affairs, vol. 91, no. 6, 2015, p. 1352. 32 The UN defines targeted sanctions as an arms embargo, including technical assistance, training, financial and other assistance related to military activities, and provision of armed mercenary personnel, on individuals and entities; a travel ban on individuals; and an assets freeze on individuals and entities, as designated by the Committee. www. un.org/​secu​r ity​coun​cil/​sancti​ons/​2127/​sancti​ons-​list-​materi​als 33 Francesco Giumelli, “Understanding United Nations Targeted Sanctions,” p. 1352. 34 Ibid., p. 1353. 35 Ibid., p. 1362. 36 Janet MacGaffey, The Real Economy of Zaire: The Contribution of Smuggling and Other Unofficial Activities to National Wealth (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1991), p. 2. 37 Carolyn Nordstrom, Shadows of War: Violence, Power and International Profiteering in the Twenty-​First Century (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004), p. 11 and p. 34. 38 Anonymous business leader, interviewed by Josie Lianna Kaye, 24 October 2018. 39 Ibid.

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40 Anonymous business leader, interviewed by Josie Lianna Kaye, 28 November 2018. 41 Anonymous Yemen expert, interviewed by Josie Lianna Kaye, 3 November 2018 and Geneva, 15 September 2018. 42 The Al-​Essi Group, a family-​run business, is based in Dubai. 43 Anonymous Yemeni expert and former minister, interviewed by Josie Lianna Kaye, 22 June 2018. 44 Anonymous Yemeni expert and former minister, interviewed by Josie Lianna Kaye, place, 22 June 2018. 45 Sasha Gordon, “The Parallel Revolution in Yemen,” Critical Thinking, 6 March 2012, www.crit​ical​thre​ats.org/​analy​sis/​the-​paral​lel-​rev​olut​ion-​in-​yemen. 46 Ginny Hill, Yemen Endures: Civil War, Saudi Adventurism and the Future of Arabia (London: Oxford University Press, 2017), p. 221. 47 Anonymous Yemen expert, interviewed by Josie Lianna Kaye, 3 November 2018, and Geneva, 15 September 2018. 48 United Nations Security Council, UN Doc. S/​2015/​125, 2015. 49 Steven A. Zyck,“Mediating Transitions inYemen:Achievements and Lessons,” International Peace Institute (2014), p. 10. 50 Anonymous UN Official, interviewed by Josie Lianna Kaye, 1 November 2018. 51 Ibid. 52 Anonymous UN Official, interviewed by Josie Lianna Kaye, 29 October 2019. 53 Ibid. 54 This figure was provided by various businessmen themselves; UN counterparts were unable to confirm whether the business actors were given any seats at all. 55 The outcome document references the terms ‘business’, ‘corporation’, ‘company’, and, ‘private sector’ in the context of 54 provisions. 56 Anonymous UN Official, interviewed by Josie Lianna Kaye, 1 November 2018. 57 Edward Newman and Oliver Richmond, “Peace building and spoilers,” Conflict, Security and Development vol. 6, no. 1, 2006, p. 102. 58 Roger Mac Ginty, “Everyday Peace: Bottom-​up and Local Agency in Conflict-​affected Societies,” Security Dialogue vol. 45, no. 6, 2014, p. 559; and Susan Willett, “Trading with Security –​Trade Liberalisation and Conflict,” in Michael Pugh, Neil Cooper and Mandy Turner (eds.), Whose Peace? Critical Perspectives on the Political Economy of Peacebuilding (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008), p. 81. 59 Mac Ginty, “Everyday Peace”, p. 549. 60 Michael Keating, former United Nations Special Representative of the Secretary-​General, Somalia, Executive Director of the European Institute of Peace (EIP), interviewed on 9 November 2018. 61 Insider mediators are defined as follows: “An individual or group of individuals who derive their legitimacy, credibility and influence from a socio-​cultural and/​or religious –​ and, indeed, personal –​closeness to the parties of the conflict, endowing them with strong bonds of trust that help foster the necessary attitudinal changes amongst key protagonists which, over time, prevent conflict and contribute to sustaining peace. IMs are driven by personal conviction and dedication to the cause and have a vested interest in the outcome.” See Kaye, Josie Lianna, UNDP Guidance Note, Engaging with Insider Mediators, Sustaining Peace in an Age of Turbulence, United Nations Development Programme, 2020. 62 Achim Wennmann, “Negotiated Exits from Organized Crime? Building Peace in Conflict and Crime-​Affected Contexts,” Negotiation Journal (2014), p. 256. 63 Julian Hottinger, senior mediator, Swiss Federal Department of Foreign Affairs, interviewed by Josie Lianna Kaye, 2 November 2018.

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64 Mikael Eriksson and Roland Kostic, Mediation and Liberal Peacebuilding: Peace from the Ashes of War? (London: Routledge, 2013), pp. 13–​14. 65 Hugo de Vries, Paul Lange, and Leontine Specker, “Economic Provisions in Peace Agreements,” Institute Clingendael (2009), p. 9. 66 Ibid., p. 9. 67 Ibid., p. 18. 68 Achim Wennmann, “Economic Provisions in Peace Agreements and Sustainable Peacebuilding,” Négociations vol. 11, no. 1, 2009, p. 44. 69 Wennmann, A., 2015. Practice note 5: ‘Supporting the Economic Dimensions of Peace Processes’. In: C. Gündüz and J. van der Zwan (eds.), Strengthening the Economic Dimensions of Peacebuilding, Practice Note Series, International Alert, pp. 7–​8. 70 Graciana del Castillo, Rebuilding War-​torn States: The Challenge of Post-​conflict Economic Reconstruction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), p. 26. 71 Susan L. Woodward, “Soft Intervention and the Puzzling Neglect of Economic Actors,” in Strengthening Peace in Post-​Civil War States: Transforming Spoilers into Stakeholders, ed. Matthew Hoodie and Caroline A. Hartzell (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2010), p. 191.

Bibliography Acharya, Amitav and Barry Buzan, “Why Is There No Non-​Western International Relations Theory? An Introduction”, in Amitav Acharya and Barry Buzan (eds.), Non-​Western International Relations Theory: Perspectives on and Beyond Asia (London: Routledge, 2010). pp. 1–​26. Ashley, Richard K., “Living on Border Lines: Man, Poststructuralism, and War”, in James Der Derian and Michael J. Shapiro (eds.), International/​Intertextual Relations, Postmodern Readings of World Politics (New York: Macmillan, 1989). pp. 259–​323. Brown, Kaysie, “War Economies and Post-​Conflict Peacebuilding: Identifying a Weak Link”, Journal of Peacebuilding and Development vol. 3, no. 2, 2012. pp. 6–​19. De Soto, Alvaro and Graciana del Castillo, “Obstacles to Peacebuilding”, Foreign Policy, no. 94, 1994. pp. 69–​83. de Vries, Hugo, Paul Lange, and Leontine Specker, Economic Provisions in Peace Agreements (Netherlands: Clingendael Institute, 2009). pp. 1–​23. del Castillo, Graciana, Rebuilding War-​ torn States: The Challenge of Post-​ conflict Economic Reconstruction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008). Dupuy, Kendra and Siri Aas Rustad, “Trends in Armed Conflict, 1946-​2017”, Conflict Trends, no. 5, PRIO 2018. pp. 1–​4. Eriksson, Mikael and Roland Kostic, Mediation and Liberal Peacebuilding: Peace from the Ashes of War? (London: Routledge, 2013). Giumelli, Francesco, “Understanding United Nations Targeted Sanctions: An Empirical Analysis”, International Affairs vol. 91, no. 6, 2015. pp. 1351–​1368. Gordon, Sasha, “The Parallel Revolution in Yemen,” Critical Thinking, 6 March 2012, www. crit​ical​thre​ats.org/​analy​sis/​the-​paral​lel-​rev​olut​ion-​in-​yemen Haufler,Virgnia, A Public Role for the Private Sector: Industry Self-​Regulation in a Global Economy (Washington D.C.: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 2001). Hill, Ginny, Yemen Endures: CivilWar, Saudi Adventurism and the Future of Arabia (London: Oxford University Press, 2017). Holt, James H., International Political Economy: The Business of War and Peace (London and New York: Routledge, 2015).

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Iff, Andrea and Rina M. Alluri. “Business Actors in Peace Mediation Processes,” Business and Society Review vol. 121, no. 2, 2016. pp. 187–​215. Kaye, Josie Lianna, UNDP Guidance Note, Engaging with Insider Mediators, Sustaining Peace in an Age of Turbulence, United Nations Development Programme, 2020. Kell, George and Sandrine Tesner, The United Nations and Business: A Partnership Recovered (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 2000). MacGaffey, Janet, The Real Economy of Zaire:The Contribution of Smuggling and Other Unofficial Activities to National Wealth (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1991). Mac Ginty, Roger, “Everyday Peace: Bottom-​up and Local Agency in Conflict-​Affected Societies,” Security Dialogue vol. 45, no. 6, 2014. pp. 548–​564. Newman, Edward and Oliver Richmond, “Peace Building and Spoilers,” Conflict, Security and Development, vol. 6, no. 1, 2006. pp. 101–​110. Nordstrom, Carolyn, Shadows of War:Violence, Power and International Profiteering in the Twenty-​ First Century (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004). Organisation for Economic Co-​ operation and Development (OECD), OECD Risk Awareness Tool for Multinational Enterprises in Weak Governance Zones (OECD, 2006). Smilie, Ian,“Developing Conflict-​Sensitive Aid:The Relationship between Aid and Conflict,” in Oli Brown, Pena Moreno and Sebastian Winkler (eds.), Trade, Aid and Security: An Agenda for Peace and Development (London: Earthscan Limited, 2007). pp. 41–​71. United Nations, Report of the Secretary-​General on the Work of the Organisation, A/​74/​ 1, 2019. United Nations Secretary-​General, SG/​SM/​6881, February 1, 1999. United Nations Security Council, S/​ 2015/​ 125, 2015. United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights: Implementing the United Nations ‘Protect, Respect and Remedy’ Framework, UN Doc. HR/​PUB/​11/​04, 2011.von Einsiedel, Sebastian with Louise Bosetti, James Cockayne, Cale Salih, and Wilfred Wan, “Civil War Trends and the Changing Nature of Armed Conflict”, United Nations University Centre for Policy Research, Occasional Paper 10 (2017). Wennmann, Achim, “Economic Provisions in Peace Agreements and Sustainable Peacebuilding,” Négociations vol. 11, no. 1, 2009. pp. 43–​61. Wennmann, Achim, “Negotiated Exits from Organized Crime? Building Peace in Conflict and Crime-​Affected Contexts”, Negotiation Journal vol. 30, no. 3, 2014. pp. 255–​273. Wennmann, Achim, Practice note 5: ‘Supporting the Economic Dimensions of Peace Processes’, in: C. Gündüz and J. van der Zwan (eds.), Strengthening The Economic Dimensions of Peacebuilding, Practice Note Series (International Alert, 2015). pp. 1–​15. Willett, Susan, “Trading with Security –​Trade Liberalisation and Conflict”, in Michael Pugh, Neil Cooper and Mandy Turner (eds.), Whose Peace? Critical Perspectives on the Political Economy of Peacebuilding (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008). pp. 67–​84. Woodward, Susan L., “Soft Intervention and the Puzzling Neglect of Economic Actors”, in Matthew Hoodie and Caroline A. Hartzell (eds.), Strengthening Peace in Post-​Civil War States: Transforming Spoilers into Stakeholders (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2010). pp. 189–​218. Zyck, Steven A., MediatingTransitions inYemen:Achievements and Lessons (NewYork: International Peace Institute, 2014).

7 COMMODITIES, COMMANDERS AND CORRUPTION Political Economy in the Evolving Tradecraft of Intelligence and Analysis in UN Peace Operations Dirk Druet

Introduction: Why Peace Operations Need Political Economy Analysis Analysts and policymakers in the United Nations (UN) Security Council, the Secretariat and peace operations have for years expressed a hunch that something has been missing in how the UN’s peace and security pillar understands and responds to violent conflict. In his 1992 “Agenda for Peace” laying out a vision for the UN’s approach to international peace and security in the post-​Cold War era, Secretary-​ General Boutros Boutros-​Ghali hinted at this when he cited an increasing prevalence of economic and social factors in conflict, concluding that “the information needed by the United Nations now must encompass economic and social trends as well as political developments that may lead to dangerous tensions”.1 As global conflict trends shifted from interstate to intrastate violence in the following decades, often with an ethnic or sectarian character, this view coincided with a growing emphasis in research on rationalist explanations over more identity-​and ideology-​ focused “ancient hatreds” explanations for why different groups go to war.2 This evolving understanding of why people choose to fight (or not fight) compelled peacemakers to design strategies and processes with greater “analytic attention to the interests of key actors in state failure and, by extension, to key actors and their economic interests in countries emerging from violent conflict”.3 Yet the task of understanding informal power and incentive structures poses a challenge to the UN and its peace operations that are present on the ground in conflicts around the world. As an intergovernmental organisation, the UN has an innately proclivity for formal political processes and has traditionally pursued technocratic approaches that privilege formal power-​sharing arrangements and institutional development as the objectives and outcomes of peace processes. As Berdal and Davies argue, this can have the effect of broadly legitimising large-​scale, DOI: 10.4324/9781003248637-8

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expensive and intrusive state-​building efforts that formalise existing power structures in a country, “entrenching the power of illiberal and rapacious elites”. The UN’s political “endorsement of local actors and ruling elites can be, and often has been, inimical to the avowed aims of UN engagement in the first place”.4 Indeed, over the past three decades, the UN’s challenges in preventing and decisively resolving violence have often been attributed to its failure to understand and influence the incentive structures that determine how individuals and groups engage with peace processes. The UN Organization Stabilization Mission in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (MONUSCO) has long pursued a strategy of establishing formal security apparatuses, government structures and public services in the country’s mineral-​r ich east that has been consistently stymied by what the Enough Project has termed “pillars of violent kleptocracy”.5 As Carayannis and Kavanagh have discussed in this volume, central among these pillars is the tacit approval of mineral resource capture by individual military commanders, which disincentivise elites and communities alike to buy into the international vision for the Congolese state that MONUSCO embodies. In Sudan and South Sudan, de Waal argues that international peace operations insert themselves into –​and become unwitting and ineffective actors within –​a “patrimonial marketplace, which operates according to socio-​culturally determined rules” that outsiders do not understand. Internationally supported peace processes will only be successful, then, if “formal negotiations over constitutional provisions and power-​sharing take place in support of a patrimonial buy-​in”.6 But how can peace operations know how these informal incentive structures align to formal processes, and, even if they did, can they hope to influence or adapt to them? In this context, it is unsurprising that initiatives to reform and strengthen the UN’s peace operations over the years have repeatedly called for a greater emphasis on political economy in missions’ analytical and strategy-​making processes.7 In 2000, the Brahimi report cited a dearth of multifaced, integrated analysis as a fundamental liability for peace operations and recommended scaling up headquarters and mission capacities for analysis on “variables that affect the difficulty of peace implementation, [including] economics (e.g. issues of poverty, distribution, discrimination or corruption)”.8 In 2015, the report of the High-​Level Independent Peace Operations (HIPPO) similarly called for more sophisticated strategic and in-​mission analysis of the “underlying features of the conflict beyond political issues alone, [including] analysis of the economic and cultural dimensions, local structures for managing and mitigating conflict, resource flows and revenue or illicit power networks, and regional and transitional drivers of conflict”.9 The 2018 UN–​World Bank report put forward a theory of conflict based on four “arenas of contestation” in which competing interests play out –​access to power, land and resources, service delivery, and justice and security –​calling for a comprehensive global system of analysis on risks such as inequality to inform an early warning system focusing on preventing internal tensions from sparking violent conflict.10 In response to these calls, the UN and its peace operations have made some progress in scaling up capacities for political economy analysis, briefly defined as

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an effort to “understand stakeholder incentives and the way they shape institutions [and] decisions [in order to] to build an awareness of political constraints –​as well as opportunities” for UN strategy and action.11 And yet, peace operations face continuing political and technical challenges, both in conducting political economy analysis and in applying it to concrete action that makes sustainable peace more likely. A recent study of the effectiveness of the United Nations Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in Mali (MINUSMA) found that “corruption was viewed by several MINUSMA officials to be a major issue but something which the Mission has little maneuvering space to put squarely on the table”.12 When it comes to confronting organised crime within peace processes, a 2013 study on the subject found a striking “mismatch between the seriousness of the threat posed by organized crime and the UN’s ability to tackle it”, due in part to a hesitancy among some member states to internationalise the issue, wariness among host states about the interference of the UN in internal affairs, and a deficit of technical capacity in the UN on the issue. Nevertheless, the study warned, unless peace operations can better assess conflict economies, identify and deal with spoilers involved in illicit activities, and disrupt illicit markets, organized crime will continue to flourish in theatres where peace operations are deployed—​hindering their operability and the very development, security, and justice that the UN seeks to build.13 This chapter examines how political economy analysis has fit into the evolving information, analysis and intelligence doctrine and architecture for UN peace operations, including the tools they have employed for this purpose. It highlights key substantive areas for political economy analysis in different mission contexts and the challenges each present for UN analysts. Where missions generate useful analysis, the chapter assesses the impact of this analysis on missions’ strategy and actions, highlighting the unique challenges the UN faces in acting to influence incentive structures within their host countries. The chapter concludes by offering several areas of consideration for the future of political economy analysis in UN peace operations.

Political Economy in the Evolving Intelligence Tradecraft of UN Peace Operations UN peace operations have always included significant information gathering and analysis functions, beginning with the analogue observation and reporting tools employed by peacekeepers from the United Nations Treaty Supervision Organization (UNTSO) to monitor the General Armistice Agreements signed between Israel and its Arab neighbours using binoculars and field notebooks.14 Though much more aggressive in its mandate and capabilities than its contemporaries, the United Nations Operation in the Congo (ONUC), deployed from

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1960 to 1964, contained extensive intelligence capabilities that included signals interception technologies and aerial surveillance.15 Since then, most peacekeeping operations have had some type of military intelligence function. Repeated attempts to scale up the UN’s information gathering and analysis capabilities have targeted both the field and headquarters, including in support of the organisation’s wider mandates for early warning and conflict prevention. At both levels, however, these efforts have often failed or been significantly limited by a combination of internal and external factors. Internally, fragmentation across different parts of the UN system, including different constituent parts of peace operations themselves, has resulted in large bodies of information and analysis that are inconsistently structured and serve different purposes. This is often for good reason: information gathered on refugee populations to serve the UN High Commissioner for Refugees’ (UNHCR) protection mandate, for example, will necessarily ask different questions than the military intelligence function of a peacekeeping operation endeavouring to predict the movements of an armed group, which in turn will differ from the requirements of the child protection section of that same operation. Nevertheless, this fragmentation poses challenges for UN peace operations and headquarters to generate overarching, strategic analysis, or to use existing data for multiple purposes. Externally, efforts to improve and integrate information gathering and analysis across the UN have been stymied by political sensitivities among member states around the term “intelligence”, which some associate with clandestine and even illegal activities. Others, including some peace operations’ host states, have expressed the fear that more robust intelligence capabilities could interfere with sensitive (and, no doubt, in some cases illicit) domestic political, economic and security matters. “Unfortunately”, Wilmot notes in a comprehensive survey of these efforts, “the visceral reaction to the lexicon of intelligence resulted in shying away from the broader effort of improving situational awareness, which need not involve controversial activities nor challenge notions of sovereignty”.16 While the General Assembly’s Special Committee on Peacekeeping Operations has recently endorsed a concept of “peacekeeping-​intelligence” (so named as to distinguish it from the intelligence practices of member states), it has been careful to circumscribe these to the realms of the protection of civilians and the safety and security of peacekeepers.17 Despite these challenges, considerable progress has been made to enhance UN information and analysis capabilities to generate more strategic intelligence. This is especially true at the field mission level, where UN peace operations often deploy a wide range of capacities with different mandates, expertise and access to local sources of information which, when well directed and organised, can serve broader strategic purposes. As individual and group economic and political incentives have come to be better understood as important considerations in peacemaking, many of these tools have begun to adapt in response. The following is a non-​exhaustive list of intelligence capabilities in peace operations which have a bearing on political economy analysis. It is important to note that not all peace operations include each of these capacities; in some cases, tools and structures are unique to just one or

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a few operations. The category of peace operations encompasses a wide variety of entities that range from large-​scale, multidimensional peacekeeping missions with armed military and police components to small political offices supporting Special Envoys that conduct analysis but lack specialised tools. The push to enhance political economy analysis in their work, however, applies to all.

Joint Mission Analysis Centres Joint mission analysis centres (JMACs) emerged as a response to the information fragmentation discussed above, including the sense that a lack of strategic awareness contributed to the UN’s exposure to the 2003 attack on the UN mission in Baghdad, which killed 20 people and injured dozens.18 JMACs consequently have a broad, strategic role to provide “integrated analysis and assessments of threats and opportunities of events, incidents, developments, patterns and trends that can impact mandate implementation”.19 They generally report directly to the head of mission and incorporate civilian, military and police analysts and liaison officers, providing access to, and influence over, the information gathered by all parts of the mission. JMACs also generate organic unique information gathering and analysis capabilities by recruiting former national intelligence professionals, training staff on aspects of tradecraft such as source handling and quantitative trend analysis, and employing dedicated technologies and databases (see below). JMACs operate using a standard “intelligence cycle” process to identify and prioritise their activities and link them to mission decision-​making and planning processes.20 JMACs have been at the forefront of efforts to better understand individual and group economic and political incentives and how they impact the conflict and peacemaking efforts. The Centres routinely produce “key stakeholder profiles” that inform senior mission leadership, among other things, of the networks and interests of their national interlocutors. The JMAC analysis framework breaks subjects into political, security, diplomatic, rule of law, social, information and economic dimensions, though most JMACs do not have dedicated economists. Key areas of political economy analysis cited by current and former JMAC staff include the patronage networks of national power brokers, corruption in the banking system and extractive resource flows. The political space for this type of work and tolerance for risk among senior mission leadership differs greatly from mission to mission, however. In South Sudan, for example, where the relationship between the United Nations Mission in South Sudan (UNMISS) and the government of Salva Kiir is heavily strained, one former analyst suggested that “when the relationship with the government is so weak, we would be running real and unnecessary risks to look too closely at these issues”.21

Sanctions Panels and Groups of Experts Panels and groups of experts are established by the Security Council as part of sanctions regimes, which can range from arms embargoes to financial and travel

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restrictions for individuals associated with a conflict. While not a direct part of peace operations, panels of experts often work in parallel with peace operations and rely on missions for operational support.22 Unlike peace operations, panels are often explicitly mandated to analyse economic motivations underlying political and security dynamics. For example, in the Central Africa Republic, where Security Council sanctions include an arms embargo, a travel ban and an assets freeze, the panel of experts is mandated by the Council to monitor the implementation of the sanctions, especially “incidents of non-​compliance”. They are also tasked with gathering information on individuals that may meet “listing criteria” set out by the Council, which include “providing support for armed groups or criminal networks through the illicit exploitation or trade of natural resources”.23 The most recent report of the CAR panel, which is composed of five geographic and thematic specialists (including a former member of the UN mission in CAR’s JMAC), includes detailed and well-​documented evidence on the systems and tools used by smuggling networks to extract minerals from the country and their links to government officials in and outside the Central African Republic. It also includes an analysis of links between military support provided by Russia to the armed forces of CAR, illegal mining and smuggling, and violence against civilians attributed elsewhere to the Wagner Group, a shadowy private security firm linked to the Russian government.24 Panels of experts can play important roles in enabling peace operations to engage national power brokers on sensitive political economy issues. By providing a degree of political distance between the issue and the peace operations themselves, evidence unearthed by panels of experts –​issued as independent reports to the Security Council –​provides a degree of political deniability on the part of the mission. This distance meant that the issue entered the discourse while not compromising the mission’s working relationship with the host government and other political stakeholders, which is critical if it hopes to maintain national consent for the operation’s presence and influence key parties to participate constructively in the peace process. Panel reports can be directly useful in building international political will to address the root causes of the conflict, which a mission is mandated to help resolve. For example, after the M23 rebellion broke out in eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) in 2012, the UN Group of Experts for DRC provided evidence of Rwandan military and financial support to the armed group and its leader, Bosco Ntagana, and corresponding revenues for minerals smuggled from DRC to Rwanda.25 This information, which was leaked to the media by an unknown source in advance of a Council debate on the subject, was crucial to a shift in the Council’s approach to Rwanda, which it had thus far been reticent to criticise.26 This, in turn, led to the deployment of then-​UN Chef de Cabinet, Susana Malcorra, to the region, where she met in secret with M23 commander Sultani Makenga and engaged leaders from the International Conference of the Great Lakes Region in a process that would culminate in the signing of the Peace, Security and Cooperation Framework for the DRC and the Region in 2013. Among other things, the Framework provided security guarantees for Rwanda

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in exchange for a promise of non-​interference in eastern DRC and foresaw the creation of the Force Intervention Brigade in MONUSCO to root out the M23 forces.27 The confluence of international political will around Rwanda’s problematic role in the region was made possible by the Group of Experts’ evidence, which would have been far too sensitive for the mission to collect and report on itself. While in this case the timing of the link was crucial to its impact on the Council’s discussions, information of a similar nature is frequently included in Panels’ regularly released reports. The political distance and independence brought to bear by panels of experts come with risk. In the best-​known case in point, Michael Sharp and Zaida Catalán, two members of the Panel of Experts for the DRC, were murdered in 2017 in the Kasaï region while investigating armed group activity. Many observers, including former members of the group, postulated that the killings were likely ordered by members of the government.28 In January 2022, a military court in Kinshasa sentenced 49 people to life imprisonment over the murders, though many claim that the trials veiled responsibility at more senior levels of government.29 More recently, as Carter describes in this volume, reporting by the Panel of Experts for CAR on the activities of Russian mercenaries in the country, alleged violations of the arms embargo to supply them and their links to Russian mining and political activities has spurred Russia to block the re-​appointments for individual members of the panel and the extension of some panels altogether.

Information Management and Analysis Technologies Improving analytical capabilities has long been a core objective of initiatives to enhance the use of technology in peacekeeping, and is one of the four goals of the UN’s 2021 Strategy for the Digital Transformation of Peacekeeping.30 Central to this goal is the rollout of Sage, a web-​based, relational database and geographic information system (GIS) mapping suite that allows peace operations to log incidents and events, aspiring to replace the voluminous but unstructured mixed qualitative and quantitative incident and activity reporting performed daily by many entities in the field. Commissioned by the UN Operations and Crisis Center (UNOCC), Sage offers a central repository at mission level for incident and event information that, once populated, can be sorted according to a wide variety of variables such as incident type, perpetrator name, location and time.31 The recent introduction of Microsoft PowerBI tools to the application has enhanced its capacity to process and express analysis, enabling it to identify trends over time, including cyclical patterns (e.g. local patterns of herder-​farmer violence). The tool can also be used to identify spatial correlations between different types of events to help with the process of analysing causality (e.g. the relationship between armed group presence and prevalence of conflict-related sexual violence). Some analysts have suggested that, with time and increased sophistication, Sage could provide stronger and stronger predictive powers, enabling peace operations to respond to likely sites of violence preemptively.32

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However, in its current form, Sage is unable to accommodate contextual data that could help bring a greater understanding of the meaning of individual events or trends, such as, for example, the daily price of precious metals in a village or the findings of surveys of local perceptions of corruption (both of which are periodically documented by some missions). It is also not designed to record structured information about individuals over time or track linkages among them. As such, Sage is poorly suited to political economy analysis, perpetuating a bias toward more superficial and security event-​based trend analysis. In fact, as Bahiss, Jackson et al. have recently argued, spatially based and incident-​focused ways of monitoring and analysing armed group control have generated “flawed or inaccurate understandings of how combatants exert influence have profound and painful political and humanitarian consequences”. These analytical frameworks, they argue, miss the fact that armed groups often seek to control behaviour as much as territory, and are blind to economic, political and social means of control and indirect, non-​violent means of coercion.33 This limitation may be mitigated to some extent by the integration of Sage into a broader technological system known as Unite Aware, which collates and overlays many data sets from across missions –​potentially including economic and network data –​and presents them in a customizable visual interface intended to provide real-​time support for decision-​makers and analysts. The system is in the early stages of rollout across peacekeeping operations, having been piloted in the Central African Republic, and its value as an intelligence tool is not yet clear.34 Likely more consequential to political economy analysis is the use in select missions of relational databases focusing on individual characteristics and networks, notably the IBM i2 Database and the associated Analyst’s Notebook used by many national security services. The suite allows the entry of multifaced pieces of information to create a multivariable, highly searchable database that can draw on Sage event data. Unlike Sage, iBase is focused on the identification of targets and thus also includes the capacity to record and manage information on individuals and entities. It is thus well suited to the analysis of patronage networks and incentives structures, and the hierarchies within them. However, it is comparatively costly and energy-​intensive and involves a steep user learning curve, making it an unlikely candidate for wider use beyond JMACs, UNPOL criminal intelligence units, and other specialised mission units.35

Member State-​Linked Intelligence Capabilities The increasing consensus around the need for some level of intelligence capacities has been accompanied by a greater interest among some troop-​and police-​ contributing countries to offer advanced intelligence systems and expertise as part of the units they deploy to take part in peacekeeping operations. In 2013, citing the severity and complexity of the security threat in Mali, a number of European Member States pledged to deploy an All Sources Information Fusion Unit (ASIFU), a multinational intelligence management model first developed for the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) International Security Assistance

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Force (ISAF) in Afghanistan, to the newly deployed UN Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in Mali (MINUSMA). By the end of 2014, two intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance (ISR) companies, based in Gao and Timbuktu and equipped with surveillance drones, specialised ground units, geospatial technologies and weapons intelligence capacities, were gathering and feeding information to a specialised, secure ASIFU fusion centre based in Bamako.36 While not the first instance of troop and police-​contributing countries deploying advanced intelligence capabilities as part of a peacekeeping unit –​MINUSTAH contingents provided extensive intelligence support to anti-​gang operations in Haiti over a decade ago37 –​nor the last –​the UN has signalled its intention to deploy a member-​state-​generated signals intelligence capability as part of its Force Intervention Brigade in eastern DRC38 –​the ASIFU is singular in the scale of its capabilities and policy implications. The capabilities brought by the ASIFU and related deployments of European criminal intelligence capacities deployed to MINUSMA’s police component offered the potential to add significantly to the quality and quantity of the mission’s political economy analysis. While the MINUSMA JMAC was experimenting with the i2 suite, ASIFU personnel were uniformly proficient in the system, allowing them to begin structuring data collected by the unit and the rest of the mission in a format more conducive to mapping networks and analysing incentive structures. Some of the unit’s airframes allowed imagery to be captured at a much higher level of detail than previously available to peacekeeping operations, while image analysts, based in troop contributing country (TCC) home countries, could rapidly process raw imagery with advanced technical skills, identify trends in, for example, the movement of individual vehicles linking armed groups to smuggling networks. Similarly, forensic material recovered by weapons intelligence teams or gained through policing activities with national security services could be expertly analysed and –​according to some analysts –​compared against (and, some allege, added to) national and international databases, such as that maintained by NATO.39 The introduction of the ASIFU into the peacekeeping legal, management and command structures raised a number of new challenges for both the UN and the ASIFU’s troop-​contributing countries. The sensitive nature of the tools, methods and information managed by the unit meant that only nationals of European countries that had pre-​negotiated their participation could work within it and that it had to be physically segmented from the rest of the mission. National parameters for the storage, handling and processing of raw data gathered by the unit’s surveillance technologies clashed with the UN’s rules on the ownership of information and raised questions about roles, responsibilities and ethics for sharing intelligence with non-​UN entities. UN policies and processes for oversight and compliance with UN human rights obligations were unprepared to accommodate the classified nature of the tools, tactics and procedures of the ASIFU. As a consequence, and as noted by Boutellis in this volume, assessments of the impact of the unit on the operations are mixed at best, and the ASIFU was subsequently dismantled as a stand-​alone unit, with various parts of it integrated into MINUSMA’s standard

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military organisational structure.40 The experience provided valuable lessons on the unique operational and political risks that come with the deployment of sensitive technologies in peacekeeping contexts and raised the concern among some analysts that the national and allied military doctrine of member states was a poor fit for the conduct of surveillance and intelligence activities by a UN mission. While politically, operationally and legally complicated, the experience of the ASIFU highlights several types of capabilities not normally available to UN peace operations that could be helpful for political economy analysis. Of particularly unique value were capabilities that enable information gathered by peacekeepers to be linked to regional or global networks for, for example, arms and ammunition shipments and smuggling, extremist weapons knowledge sharing and precursor trafficking, and illicit economic activities such as human and drug trafficking. Increasingly, it may be possible for peace operations to acquire some of these capabilities without resorting to member states. For example, emerging technologies developed by non-​government organisations are making it increasingly possible to independently gather and analyse weapons flows, such as through the “Tech for Tracing” initiative that has created a platform for capturing, cataloguing and comparing small arms and light weapons data collected in the field to identify the provenance of trafficked weapons and ammunition.41 Additionally, since the deployment of the ASIFU, the UN has undertaken the development of a policy on peacekeeping-​intelligence and many pieces of derivative guidance on intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance capacities, human source management, and criminal intelligence that to some extent respond to the challenges cited above.42

Local Engagement for Protection, Human Rights and Conflict Resolution At a more granular level, many parts of UN peace operations that engage daily with local people can serve as critical vectors for understanding local political economies and their relationship with larger conflict dynamics. Verweijen has analysed this phenomenon in detail in eastern DRC, where MONUSCO has a presence in many remote areas, and where the infamously rapacious armed forces of DRC (known by the French acronym FARDC) are made up of a patchwork of units representing different ethnic groups, regions and former armed groups that have integrated into the military as part of the peace process. Beyond simple patterns of domination and exploitation of local communities,Verweijen argues, the relationships between FARDC units and populations under their influence exist in a complex, dynamic and highly localised web of patronage relationships in which political, economic and security benefits are exchanged for loyalty and support. In an environment of pervasive insecurity, this dynamic enables local communities to negotiate protective transactions with FARDC units. While “private protection is primarily imposed by the FARDC and assumes forms resembling extortion”, she writes, “…in other cases, civilians actively solicit FARDC protection, as its services are seen as particularly effective in a number of respects”. This can include enforcing other patronage

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relationships within and among civilian communities in exchange for the legitimacy conferred by local political elites, thereby inverting the relationship and situating these economies at the causal core of trends in violence.43 Localised political economies are perhaps most easily observed over time through parts of UN missions engaged in protection, human rights and conflict resolution, namely civil affairs sections and human rights offices. These civilian sections often maintain permanent or periodic presences at the local level, for instance, through community liaison assistants, national staff who are deployed alongside remote military detachments in peacekeeping settings and act as linguistic, cultural and political interpreters for the troops while reporting back to the civil affairs section.44 Civilian sections also support community and civil society networks, liaise with human rights defenders and coordinate with international aid organisations working in rural areas to identify risks, develop locally tailored protection responses and investigate human rights violations, through which they can gain a detailed understanding of local political economies.45 While linking localised patronage networks to broader conflict dynamics may be beyond the immediate mandates of human rights and protection actors, an understanding of these clientelistic relationships is equally important for the development of effective protection responses. As Paddon Rhoads and Sutton argue, external protection responses –​such as an intervention by armed peacekeepers –​ that fail to account for the agency of civilians under threat and understand the arrangements they make to ensure their safety, risk undermining these bargains and exposing civilians to further harm.46 On the other hand, suggests Kaplan, when external actors take civilian self-​protection strategies into account, they can provide better-​tailored and often lower-​profile and less costly protection support, including material support, training to improve communities’ negotiating positions and monitoring to ensure the strategies are successful and step in if necessary.47

Global and Regional Trend Analysis The increasingly transboundary nature of conflict demands political economy analysis from UN peace operations that looks beyond the borders of their host states. However, missions have traditionally found this task difficult to accomplish in practice. Missions rarely maintain staff in neighbouring countries, and when they do these are political liaisons rather than analysts. Neighbouring states, which invariably have a keen interest in the conflict, tend to be extremely sensitive to the notion of intelligence gathering on their soil. In multiple countries, sensitivities of neighbouring states around the use of aerial surveillance have prompted missions to establish no-​fly buffer zones for drones along national boundaries, severely limiting their capacity to monitor cross-​border movements. This challenge is intended to be mitigated to some extent by the presence of UN regional political offices in West Africa and the Sahel (covering MINUSMA), Central Africa (covering MINUSCA and MONUSCO) and Central Asia (covering aspects of UNAMA’s mandate), all of which are tasked with monitoring conflict

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trends across their region and provide early warning of risks. Other regional political and liaison presences provide similar functions for the Horn of Africa and Southern Africa, among other regions. For example, the United Nations Office for West Africa and the Sahel (UNOWAS), headquartered in Dakar, hosts a small Research and Analysis Unit that produces thinking on issues such as farmer–​herder conflicts, climate-​related security risks and organised crime, all of which directly affect the conflict in Mali. However, the same regional political sensitivities as above apply, and the breadth of the regional office’s mandate and its limited resources restricts the energy it can dedicate to meeting MINUSMA’s individual needs, particularly when it comes to identifying and analysing individual networks or individuals. At the global level, the Department of Political and Peacebuilding Affairs’ (DPPA) global conflict prevention mandate tasks it with monitoring developments around the world that could have a bearing on violent conflicts.48 This includes economic development but, until recently, the Department’s work has been heavily skewed towards political and diplomatic developments. This has begun to change with DPPA’s 2016-​19 Strategic Plan, which committed to allocating more attention to the political economy of conflict and transnational actors.49 DPPA introduced a staff training course on political economy analysis in 2018, drawing on internal expertise from the Department of Economic and Social Affairs (DESA) and external consulting groups. DPPA and the Department of Peace Operations (DPO) have also begun to convene Headquarters-​based informal analysis groups on thematic economic issues that impact conflict dynamics, such as an oil working group that acts as a hub for organising public and proprietary data on oil shipments, new exploration and price analyses from which staff can draw.50

Political Economy Analysis in the Decision-​Making Cycles of Peace Operations For UN peace operations’ political economy analysis to be meaningful, it must inform action. Political economy issues feature regularly in the strategic documents that govern peacekeeping operations, and to a lesser extent in missions’ operational strategies and plans. However, peace operations still struggle to turn their analyses of incentive structures into effective action to influence them, for the reasons discussed in the final section of this chapter. In this section, we assess the links between intelligence cycles and planning for peace operations, highlighting ongoing analytical, political and operational barriers to action and suggesting areas of opportunity. The Security Council can affect peace operations’ work on political economy issues in three principal ways: first, by signalling normative acceptance of the UN’s role in addressing the incentive systems that drive conflict; second, by mandating and empowering missions to work on these issues directly; and third, by adopting other measures, notably sanctions, intended to help address their dynamics in mission environments. Its willingness to engage on political economy issues, however, has wavered depending on the subject matter. For instance, the Council has consistently exhibited a fairly high level of consensus on the roles played by illegal

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natural resource exploitation and illicit trafficking in driving conflict and, more recently, enabling terrorism.51 The concern about resources being used to finance conflict dates as far back as the early 1990s, when it imposed sanctions on the export of timber from Cambodia in 1992 (UNSC 1992b). At the turn of the millennium, “conflict diamonds” emerged as a driver of violence in Angola, Sierra Leone and Libera. Council sanctions resolutions during this period introduced the concept of a “certificates of origin system” and tasked UN panels of experts to monitor and report on the implementation of and adherence to such a system.52 Though the Council did not mention a specific role for the UN missions in relation to the system, it did stress that all UN bodies should report to the Council any possible violations of these measures.53 In 2001, this process was subsumed into the Kimberley Process Certification Scheme, an initiative led by several African diamond producing countries and endorsed by the General Assembly.54 Since then, the Kimberley Process has emerged as an important parallel analytical process in some peace operations environments, with significant bearings on conflict dynamics. In the Central African Republic, for example, the mission has tracked recent efforts by the government to expand areas of the country covered by the certification system, in parallel to an expansion of mining activities of companies linked to the Russian government that followed the 2018 security cooperation agreement between the two countries. MINUSCA has analysed the ways in which the Kimberley Process certification activities are likely to affect patterns of armed violence, as the government and its partners seek to avoid escalations against armed groups in the northeastern region of the country where new certification status is being sought. The UN Panel of Experts for the Central Africa Republic, meanwhile, has reported on the improper use of Kimberley Process certificates to export diamonds mined from zones considered non-​compliant.55 The Security Council has also directly tasked peace operations to work on issues of natural resource exploitation and illegal trafficking. As of 2016, the Security Council had addressed mineral resources in 93 resolutions, the majority of which addressed the exploitation of minerals as a source of funding for non-​state armed groups or other war economy actors and mandated missions to monitor and report on efforts to stem illegal exploitation. For example, in 2011 the Security Council called on MONUSCO to directly monitor mining sites that had been declared free of armed actors and operating under the rule of law by “carrying out spot checks and regular visits to mining sites, trade routes and markets”.56 As with conflict diamonds in West Africa, a surge in international interest in minerals used in technology supply chains provided strong international backing for a robust role for the mission in addressing illicit resource exploitation in DRC. In 2010, the U.S. passed the Dodd-​Frank Wall Street Reform and Consumer Protection Act, including a provision requiring companies listed on the US stock exchange to provide assurances that their commodities did not contain minerals that “directly or indirectly finance or benefit armed groups” in the DRC or its neighbours.57 The MONUSCO JMAC and Stabilization Support sections seized on this opportunity to develop a unique initiative to provide direct support to state-​controlled

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trading centres for artisanally mined minerals in areas of the country declared “conflict-​free”.58 Arguably the most ambitious intervention designed to explicitly alter the political economy of conflict by a UN peace operation, these deep field centre de négoces, as they were known, were monitored by UN–​government–​ civil society Joint Assessment Teams that relied on MONUSCO for logistical and security support. As a secondary benefit, they were intended to provide valuable political economy insights for the mission. However, security and logistical issues plagued the teams, making it challenging to consistently ensure that the centres were functioning according to the plan.59 Though often directly linked to the proceeds of illicit natural resource flows, the Security Council has shown less unanimity on the relationship between official corruption and conflict. There are numerous reasons for corruption to be a third rail of UN peace operations. These begin in the Council, where Russia and China are particularly sensitive to mission activities which might be construed as an impingement on sovereignty or interference in the internal affairs of the state. Moreover, all missions must balance the need to address causes and consequences of conflict that originate with the government, such as corruption and human rights abuses, and the need to maintain the host government’s consent for the mission’s presence and a working relationship with government authorities that will allow it to influence the peace process in other areas.60 Moreover, in complex and weak political settlements such as that which existed in support of the government of Afghanistan from 2001 until its overthrow in 2021, stability and illicit flows in a given area may depend on the same power broker that has been brought into the pact. This forces missions to balance the relative costs and benefits of, for example, targeting the proceeds of poppy processing and export, potentially resulting in a decision to avoid analysing the issue too closely lest they be compelled to act in a way they believe to be strategically unhelpful.61 The growing “climate security” agenda presents a new frame through which peace operations are increasingly being asked to understand and respond to the political economy of conflict. Though initially controversial as a topic of international peace and security, there is growing consensus around the Secretariat’s understanding that “climate change and environmental mismanagement are risk multipliers” and when “coping capacities are limited and there is high dependence on shrinking natural resources and ecosystem services such as water and fertile land, grievances and tensions can explode, complicating efforts to prevent conflict and sustain peace”.62 This preoccupation is reflected in several mission mandates, notably that of MINUSMA, which calls on the mission to employ “risk assessment and risk management strategies” of ecological trends and climate change on peace and security in Mali.63 From a political economy analysis perceptive, the climate security framework could provide a new lens through which peace operations can understand and explain evolving incentive structures that can fuel peace or violence. In 2018, the UN established a small Climate and Security Mechanism to provide technical support to the UN system to address climate-​related security risks. To do so,

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however, analysts must contend with the fact that direct climate-​related factors appear to be rarely the strongest causal dominant of conflict and yet are a ubiquitous multiplier of risk, making concise analytical conclusions difficult. In other words, as Day and Caus conclude, “a relationship between climate change and violent conflict is a mediated one, interacting with a complex set of other variables that make direct causality difficult to establish with certainty”.64 Acknowledging this, an initial analytical framework developed by the Climate Security Mechanism details how assessments of the direct impacts of climate change on group dynamics –​through increased stressors, greater exposure to shocks and reduced coping capacity –​can be married with a broader analytical lens to assess how these trends could create opportunities for elites that benefit from disorder, for example, or how captured natural resource management institutions could hamper appropriate responses and thus further increase stressors.65 In practice, however, recent research from across the UN system suggests that the analytical links between climate-​related trends and political economies of conflict are still relatively immature, focusing primarily on the direct impacts and less on the implications for elite interests and networks. At the regional level, for example, UNOWAS has surveyed multiple analyses of the impacts of climate change on farmer–​ herder conflicts and rural–​ urban migration in the region. While these studies clearly point to the potential for these trends to erode social cohesion and increase risks of intergroup conflict, they do not address the ways in which these trends may change the calculus of key power brokers that could influence the escalation or resolution of these conflicts.66 A few studies have gone deeper, such as a 2021 Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) report on climate-​related security risks in Mali and their implications for MINUSMA, which assessed, among other things, how food insecurity in northern and central Mali has strengthened the recruitment practices of armed groups, who offer food assistance to communities in exchange for allegiance.67 Based on a review of this “first generation” of UN climate security analyses, Day identifies a number of conditions necessary for the craft to mature, including the development of a common vocabulary that integrates climate change science with conflict analysis, and the need to reconcile the longer time scales of climate analysis with the typically shorter-​term scales of conflict trends.68

Conclusion: The Future of Political Economy Analysis in Peacekeeping While it has long been recognised that political economy is the key to sustainable conflict resolution in many conflict environments, the legal frameworks and political contexts for UN peace operations make these issues exceedingly difficult to act upon. Nevertheless, as this chapter has described, the UN has developed a number of valuable tools for understanding incentive structures in their operating environments. As missions’ intelligence and analysis tools become increasingly sophisticated, their success in fully capturing political economy trends will depend

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in no small part on their ability to integrate information about individuals and environmental details and, in turn, to integrate these details with other analytical frameworks, such as that for climate-​related security risks. Political economy tools and processes adjacent to peace operations, including panels and groups of experts and international commodity tracking regimes, have proved highly complementary to peace operations’ efforts to respond to political economy phenomena, and in some cases helped to open political space for mission engagement on these issues that would not have otherwise been possible. Given the deeply sensitive nature of many of these issues, building international coalitions around political economy issues thus appears to be a winning strategy for peace operations hoping to influence the political economies of violence in the environments in which they work.

Notes 1 United Nations, An Agenda for Peace: Preventive Diplomacy, Peacemaking and Peace-​keeping, Report of the Secretary-​General Pursuant to the Statement Adopted by the Summit Meeting of the Security Council on 31 January 1992, ST/​DPI/​1247, 1992, p. 14. 2 See, for example, James D. Fearon and David D. Laitin, “Violence and the Social Construction of Ethnic Identity”, International Organization 54, No. 4 (2000), 845–​877. 3 Mats Berdal, “Introduction,” in Mats Berdal and Achim Wennmann (eds.), Ending Wars, Consolidating Peace: Economic Perspectives (London: Routledge for the International Institute for Strategic Studies, 2010), p. 11. 4 Mats Berdal and Hannah Davies, “The United Nations and International Statebuilding after the Cold War”, in Mats Berdal and Dominik Zaum (eds.), Political Economy of Statebuilding: Power after Peace, (London: Routledge, 2017), p. 120. 5 Sasha Lezhnev, “A Criminal State: Understanding and Countering Institutionalized Corruption and Violence in the Democratic Republic of Congo”, Violent Kleptocracy Series: East & Central Africa, Washington, DC: Enough Project, October 2016. 6 Alex de Waal, “Mission without End? Peacekeeping in the African Political Marketplace”, International Affairs 85, No. 1 (2009), 99–​113. 7 A note on terminology: Different parts of the UN use a variety of loosely defined terms to describe the practices of gathering, organizing and analyzing information. These include “situational awareness,” which relates to the understanding of a situation and its likely trajectory, generally in a more proximate, tactical sense; “intelligence” (or “peacekeepingintelligence,” a term adopted by the Secretariat in 2019 to assuage Member State sensitivities), which involves a more deliberate, ongoing cycle of questions, information collection and processing, and analysis to serve decision-​making; and “information gathering and analysis” or “analysis and assessment,” which tend to be used to describe something in between the two. This chapter uses the terms essentially interchangeably, as appropriate to the context, since political economy analysis can, or could, be found in all the approaches. The best available breakdown of this terminology and its application to UN contexts can be found in Haidi Wilmot, Improving UN Situational Awareness: Enhancing the U.N.’s Ability to Prevent and Respond to Mass Human Suffering and to Ensure the Safety and Security of Its Personnel, Washington, DC: Stimson Center, August 2017, pp. 19–​24. Similarly, different entities also inconsistently employ “data,” which tends to refer to individual pieces of raw information (a data point, for example) and “information,” which tends to refer to multiple pieces of data that have been combined or aggregated but not yet organized. Again, this chapter does not attempt rigorous discipline in the use of these terms.

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8 United Nations, Report of the Panel on United Nations Peace Operations, A /​55/​305–​ S /​ 2000/​809, 21 August 2000. 9 United Nations, Report of the High-​level Independent Panel on Peace Operations on Uniting our Strengths for Peace: Politics, Partnership and People, A/​70/​95-​S/​2015/​446, 17 June 2015. 10 United Nations and World Bank, Pathways for Peace: Inclusive Approaches to Preventing Conflict, Washington, DC: International Bank for Reconstruction and Development /​ The World Bank, 2018. 11 Verena Fritz and Brian Levy, “Problem-​Driven Political Economy in Action: Overview and Synthesis of the Case Studies”, in Verena Fritz, Brian Levy, and Rachel Ort (eds.), Problem-​ Driven Political Economy Analysis: The World Bank’s Experience (Washington, DC: International Bank for Reconstruction and Development/​The World Bank, 2014), pp. 1–​30. 12 Jaïr van der Lijn et al, “Assessing the of the United Nations Mission in Mali /​ MINUSMA”, Effectiveness of Peace Operations Network Series, Oslo: Norwegian Institute of International Affairs 2019. 13 Walter Kemp, Mark Shaw, and Arthur Boutellis, The Elephant in the Room: How can Peace Operations deal with Organized Crime? (New York, International Peace Institute, 2013), p. 8. 14 Andrew Gregory Theobald, “The United Nations Truce Supervision Organization (UNTSO)”, in Joachim A. Koops,Thierry Tardy, Norrie MacQueen, and Paul D.Williams (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of United Nations Peacekeeping Operations (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015). 15 A.Walter Dorn and David J.H. Bell, “Intelligence and Peacekeeping:The UN Operation in the Congo, 1960–​64”, International Peacekeeping 2, No. 1 (1995), 11–​33. 16 For a comprehensive survey of these initiatives see Haidi Wilmot, Improving UN Situational Awareness: Enhancing the U.N.’s Ability to Prevent and Respond to Mass Human Suffering and to Ensure the Safety and Security of Its Personnel, Washington, DC: Stimson Center, August 2017. 17 United Nations, Report of the Special Committee on Peacekeeping Operations: 2020 Substantive Session (New York, 17 February-​12 March 2020), A/​74/​19, 2020, p. 30. 18 Phillip Shelter-​Jones, “Intelligence in Integrated UN Peacekeeping Missions: The Joint Mission Analysis Center,” International Peacekeeping 15, No. 4 (2008), 518–​527. 19 United Nations, Policy: Joint Mission Analysis Centers, PK/​P/​2020.06, 1 May 2020. 20 United Nations, Joint Mission Analysis Center Field Handbook, PK/​G/​2018.03, 2018. 21 Interviews, 29 July 2021 and 8 February 2022. See also recommendations for professionalizing peacekeeping-​intelligence in Sarah-​Myriam Martin-​Brulé, “Finding the UN way on Peacekeeping-​Intelligence”, New York: International Peace Institute, April 2020. 22 From a budgetary standpoint, groups and panels of experts are technically considered special political missions and are funded through the same budget enveloped through the UN regular budget. However, as independent entities reporting to the Security Council, they are functionally distinct from other peace operations managed by the UN Secretariat and are thus typically omitted from analyses on the subject. See United Nations, “Report of the Secretary-​General: Overall Policy Matters Pertaining to Special Political Missions”, A/​76/​198, 18 August 2021 for a full list of special political missions. 23 United Nations Security Council resolution 2399 (30 January 2018), S/​RES/​2399. 24 United Nations, Final Report of the Panel of Experts on the Central African Republic Extended Pursuant to Security Council Resolution 2536 (2020), S/​2021/​569, 25 June 2021. 25 United Nations, Letter dated 12 October 2012 from the Group of Experts on the Democratic Republic of the Congo Addressed to the Chair of the Security Council Committee Established Pursuant to Resolution 1533 (2004) Concerning the Democratic Republic of the Congo, S/​ 2012/​843, 15 November 2012.

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26 United Nations Security Council presidential statement 2012/​22, S/​PRST/​2012/​22, 19 October 2012. 27 United Nations, Internal Memorandum, 25 November 2012, on file with author. 28 Jason Stearns, “The Assassination of the UN Experts –​What do we know?” Congo Research Group, Center on International Cooperation, 20 December 2012. 29 Irwin Arieff and Deborah Baldwin, “A Fresh Look Back at Two UN Deaths in the Congo,” Passblue, 15 January 2022. 30 United Nations, Strategy for the Digital Transformation of UN Peacekeeping, UN Departments of Peace Operations, Operational Support, and Management Strategy, Policy and Compliance, 17 August 2021. 31 PAX, “Conference Report: Applying Data for Peacekeeping: Challenges and Opportunities”, Utrecht: PAX, 14 November 2018. 32 For example, see Allard Duursma and John Karlsrud, “Predictive Peacekeeping: Strengthening Predictive Analysis in UN Peace Operations”, Stability: International Journal of Security and Development 8, No. 1 (2019), 1–​19. 33 Bahiss, Ibraheem, Ashley Jackson, Leigh Mayhew, and Florian Weigand. Rethinking Armed Group Control: Towards a New Conceptual Framework. Centre for Study of Armed Groups Working Paper (London: Overseas Development Institute, 2022). 34 Dirk Druet, “Enhancing the use of Digital Technology for Integrated Situational Awareness and Peacekeeping-​Intelligence”, Paper commissioned by the UN Department of Peace Operations, April 2021. 35 Interview, 28 January 2021. 36 John Karlsrud and Adam C. Smith, “Europe’s Return to UN Peacekeeping in Africa? Lessons from Mali”, Providing for Peacekeeping Series No. 11, New York: International Peace Institute, July 2015. 37 A. Walter Dorn, “Intelligence-​ led Peacekeeping: The United Nations Stabilization Mission in Haiti (MINUSTAH), 2006–​07”, Intelligence and National Security 24, no. 6 (2009), 805–​835. 38 Statement by UN Spokesperson Stéphane Dujarric, 21 February 2021. Retrieved from www.yout​ube.com/​watch?v=​uiBa​gmyt​sAM on 11 May 2022. 39 Dirk Druet, “Enhancing the use of Digital Technology for Integrated Situational Awareness and Peacekeeping-​Intelligence”, Paper commissioned by the UN Department of Peace Operations, April 2021. 40 See Olga Abilova and Alexandra Novosseloff, Demystifying Intelligence in UN Peacekeeping Operations, New York: International Peace Institute, July 2016. 41 David Lochhead, “Briefing to the Security-​Council on behalf of Small Arms Survey”, Security Council meeting 8874 on “Small Arms,” 6 October 2021. 42 For an overview of doctrinal developments in Peacekeeping-​Intelligence and efforts to address some of the challenges cited here, see Sarah-​Myriam Martin-​Brulé, “Finding the UN way on Peacekeeping-​Intelligence”, New York: International Peace Institute, April 2020. 43 Judith Verweijen, “Military Business and the Business of the Military in the Kivus”, Review of African Political Economy 40, no. 135 (2013), 67–​82. 44 As Abilova and Novosseloff note, other parts of peace operations can also generate valuable “human intelligence,” including electoral affairs and demobilization, disarmament and reintegration (DDR) officers, which can generate distinct and complementary local networks. Rural military detachments and observers can also generate valuable human intelligence though, as the authors note, a shift in culture and capacities is required to encourage more dynamic and proactive peacekeeping patrolling that interacts more

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substantively with the local population. See Olga Abilova and Alexandra Novosseloff, “Demystifying Intelligence in UN Peace Operations: Toward an Organizational Doctrine”, New York: International Peace Institute, July 2016. 45 United Nations, Civil Affairs Handbook, 2012.02, 2012. 46 Emily Paddon Rhoads and Rebecca Sutton, “The (self) Protection of Civilians in South Sudan: Popular and Community Justice Practices”, African Affairs, 119, no. 479 (2020), 370–​394. 47 Oliver Kaplan,“The International Committee of the Red Cross and Support for Civilian Self-​Protection in Colombia”, International Interactions, vol. 47, no. 5 (2021), 898–​279. 48 United Nations, Secretary-​General’s Bulletin: Organization of the Department of Political Affairs, ST/​SGB/​2009/​13/​Corr.1, 5 November 2009. 49 United Nations, United Nations Department of Political Affairs Strategic Plan 2016-​19, UN Department of Political Affairs, 20 November 2015. 50 Interview, 8 September 2021. 51 Most recently in United Nations Security Council presidential statement, S/​PRST/​ 2021/​15, 9 August 2021. 52 Audrie Howard, “Blood Diamonds:The Successes and Failures of the Kimberley Process Certification Scheme in Angola, Sierra Leone and Zimbabwe”, Washington University Global Studies Law Review 15. No. 1 (2016), 137–​159. 53 United Nations Security Council Resolution 1306, S/​RES/​1306, 5 July 2000. 54 United Nations General Assembly resolution 55/​56, A/​RES/​55/​56, 29 January 2021. 55 United Nations, Final Report of the Panel of Experts on the Central African Republic Extended Pursuant to Security Council Resolution 2536 (2020), S/​2021/​569, 25 June 2021. 56 Peter Aldinger, Carl Bruch and Sofia Yazykova, “Revisiting Securitization: An Empirical Analysis of Environment and Natural Resource Provisions in United Nations Security Council Resolutions, 1946–​2016”, in Ashok Swain and Joakim Öjenda (eds.), Routledge Handbook of Environmental Conflict and Peacebuilding (London: Routledge, 2018), pp. 143–​172. 57 Jeroen Cuvelier, Steven Van Bockstael, Koen Vlassenroot, and Claude Iguma, “Analyzing the Impact of the Dodd-​Frank Act on Congolese Livelihoods”, paper prepared for the DRC Affinity Group, New York: Social Sciences and Research Council, November 2014. 58 United Nations, Report of the Secretary-​ General on the United Nations Organization Stabilization Mission in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, S/​2012/​838, 14 November 2012. 59 Jeroen Cuvelier, Steven Van Bockstael, Koen Vlassenroot, and Claude Iguma, “Analyzing the Impact of the Dodd-​Frank Act on Congolese Livelihoods”, paper prepared for the DRC Affinity Group, New York: Social Sciences and Research Council, November 2014. 60 El Ghassim Wane et al, Review of Peacekeeping Responses in Four Critical Missions, New York: UN Department of Peace Operations, March 2021. It should be noted that this juxtaposition is not universal. Indeed, research has demonstrated how human rights and protection activities by peace operations, when carefully and deliberately executed, can help to build a mission’s credibility with conflict parties and open political space. See United Nations, Going Further Together:The Contribution of Human Rights Components to the Implementation of Mandates of United Nations Field Missions,” Geneva: Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, November 2020; and Dirk Druet, United Nations Special Political Missions and Protection: A Principled Approach for Research and Policymaking, New York: International Peace Institute, July 2021. 61 Jonathan Goodhand, “Corrupting or Consolidating the Peace? The Drugs Economy and Post-​conflict Peacebuilding in Afghanistan”, International Peacekeeping 13, no. 3 (2008), 405–​423.

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62 Comments by the UN Secretary-​General at the 23 September 2021 Open Debate of the Security Council on Climate and Security, quoted in Security Council Report, “December 21 Monthly Forecast: Climate Change and Security, 30 November 2021. 63 United Nations Security Council resolution 2531, S/​RES/​2531, 29 June 2020. 64 Adam Day and Jessica Claus, Conflict Prevention in an Era of Climate Change: Adapting the UN to Climate-​Security Risks, New York: United Nations University Center for Policy Research, 2019. 65 United Nations, UN Conceptual Approach to Integrated Climate-​Related Security Assessments, Informal Guidance Note, UN Climate Security Mechanism, 2020. 66 Ngozi Amu, “Addressing Climate Change-​ Related Security Risks: The Experience of a Regional Special Political Mission”, Issue Brief No. 19/​2020, Stockholm: Folke Bernadotte Academy, 2020. 67 Farah Hegazi, Florian Krampe, and Elizabeth Smith,“Climate-​related Security Risks and Peacebuilding in Mali”, SIPRI Policy Paper No. 60, Stockholm: Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, April 2021. 68 Adam Day, Climate Change and Security: Perspectives from the Field, New York: United Nations University Center for Policy Research, 2020.

Bibliography Abilova, Olga, and Alexandra Novosseloff, Demystifying Intelligence in UN Peacekeeping Operations (New York: International Peace Institute, July 2016). Aldinger, Peter, Carl Bruch, and Sofia Yazykova, “Revisiting Securitization: An Empirical Analysis of Environment and Natural Resource Provisions in United Nations Security Council Resolutions, 1946–​2016”, in Ashok Swain and Joakim Öjenda (eds.), Routledge Handbook of Environmental Conflict and Peacebuilding (London: Routledge, 2018), pp. 143–​172. Amu, Ngozi. “Addressing Climate Change-​ Related Security Risks: The Experience of a Regional Special Political Mission”, Issue Brief No. 19/​2020, Stockholm: Folke Bernadotte Academy, 2020. Arieff, Irwin, and Deborah Baldwin, “A Fresh Look Back at Two UN Deaths in the Congo”, Passblue, 15 January 2022. Bahiss, Ibraheem, Ashley Jackson, Leigh Mayhew, and Florian Weigand, Rethinking Armed Group Control: Towards a New Conceptual Framework, Centre for Study of Armed Groups Working Paper (London: Overseas Development Institute, 2022). Berdal, Mats, “Introduction”, in Mats Berdal and Achim Wennmann (eds.), Ending Wars, Consolidating Peace: Economic Perspectives (London: Routledge for the International Institute for Strategic Studies, 2010), pp. 7–​13. Berdal, Mats, and Hannah Davies. “The United Nations and International Statebuilding after the Cold War”, in Mats Berdal and Dominik Zaum (eds.), Political Economy of Statebuilding: Power after Peace (London: Routledge, 2017), pp. 111–​139. Boutellis, Arthur, MINUSMA’s 2021 Mandate Renewal in Uncertain Times, Effectiveness of Peace Operations Network Series (Oslo: Norwegian Institute of International Affairs, 2021). Cuvelier, Jeroen, Steven Van Bockstael, Koen Vlassenroot, and Claude Iguma, “Analyzing the Impact of the Dodd-​Frank Act on Congolese Livelihoods”, paper prepared for the DRC Affinity Group, New York: Social Sciences and Research Council, November 2014. Day, Adam, Climate Change and Security: Perspectives from the Field (New York: United Nations University Center for Policy Research, 2020).

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Day, Adam, and Jessica Claus, Conflict Prevention in an Era of Climate Change: Adapting the UN to Climate-​Security Risks, New York: United Nations University Center for Policy Research, 2019. De Waal, Alex, “Mission without End? Peacekeeping in the African Political Marketplace”, International Affairs vol. 85, no. 1, 2009, pp. 99–​113. Dorn, A. Walter, “Intelligence-​led Peacekeeping: The United Nations Stabilization Mission in Haiti (MINUSTAH), 2006–​07”, Intelligence and National Security vol. 24, no. 6, 2009, pp. 805–​835. Dorn, A. Walter, and David J.H. Bell”, Intelligence and Peacekeeping: The UN Operation in the Congo, 1960–​64,” International Peacekeeping, vol. 2, no. 1, 1995, pp. 11–​33. Druet, Dirk, “Enhancing the Use of Digital Technology for Integrated Situational Awareness and Peacekeeping-​Intelligence”, paper commissioned by the UN Department of Peace Operations, April 2021. Druet, Dirk, United Nations Special Political Missions and Protection: A Principled Approach for Research and Policymaking (New York: International Peace Institute, July 2021). Duursma, Allard, and John Karlsrud, “Predictive Peacekeeping: Strengthening Predictive Analysis in UN Peace Operations”, Stability: International Journal of Security and Development, vol. 8, no. 1, 2019, pp. 1–​19. Fearon. James D., and David D. Laitin, “Violence and the Social Construction of Ethnic Identity”, International Organization, vol. 54, no. 4, 2000, pp. 845–​877. Fritz, Verena, and Brian Levy “Problem-​Driven Political Economy in Action: Overview and Synthesis of the Case Studies,” in Verena Fritz, Brian Levy, and Rachel Ort (eds.), Problem-​ Driven Political Economy Analysis: The World Bank’s Experience (Washington, DC: International Bank for Reconstruction and Development /​The World Bank, 2014), pp. 1–​30. Goodhand, Johnathan, “Corrupting or Consolidating the Peace? The Drugs Economy and Post-​conflict Peacebuilding in Afghanistan”, International Peacekeeping, vol. 13, no. 3, 2008, pp. 405–​423. Hegazi, Farah, Florian Krampe, and Elizabeth Smith, “Climate-​Related Security Risks and Peacebuilding in Mali”, SIPRI Policy Paper No. 60, Stockholm: Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, April 2021. Howard, Audrie, “Blood Diamonds: The Successes and Failures of the Kimberley Process Certification Scheme in Angola, Sierra Leone and Zimbabwe”, Washington University Global Studies Law Review vol. 15. no. 1, 2016, pp. 137–​159. Kaplan, Oliver, “The International Committee of the Red Cross and Support for Civilian Self-​Protection in Colombia,” International Interactions, vol. 47, no. 5, 2021, pp. 898–​927. Karlsrud, John, and Adam C. Smith, Europe’s Return to UN Peacekeeping in Africa? Lessons from Mali, Providing for Peacekeeping Series No. 11 (New York: International Peace Institute, July 2015). Kemp, Walter, Mark Shaw, and Arthur Boutellis, The Elephant in the Room: How Can Peace Operations Deal with Organized Crime? (New York, International Peace Institute, 2013). Lezhnev, Sasha, A Criminal State: Understanding and Countering Institutionalized Corruption and Violence in the Democratic Republic of Congo, Violent Kleptocracy Series: East & Central Africa, Washington, DC: Enough Project, October 2016. Lochhead, David, “Briefing to the Security-​Council on behalf of Small Arms Survey”, Security Council meeting 8874 on “Small Arms,” 6 October 2021. Martin-​Brulé, Sarah-​Myriam, Finding the UN way on Peacekeeping-​ Intelligence, New York: International Peace Institute, April 2020. Paddon Rhoads, Emily, and Rebecca Sutton, “The (self) Protection of Civilians in South Sudan: Popular and Community Justice Practices”, African Affairs vol.119, no. 479, 2020.

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PAX,“Conference Report: Applying Data for Peacekeeping: Challenges and Opportunities”, Utrecht: PAX, 14 November 2018. Security Council Report, “December 21 Monthly Forecast: Climate Change and Security”, 30 November 2021. Shelter-​Jones, Phillip, “Intelligence in Integrated UN Peacekeeping Missions: The Joint Mission Analysis Center”, International Peacekeeping vol.15, no. 4, 2008, pp. 517–​527. Stearns, Jason, “The Assassination of the UN Experts –​What Do We Know?” Congo Research Group, Center on International Cooperation, 20 December 2012. Theobald, Andrew Gregory, “The United Nations Truce Supervision Organization (UNTSO)”, in Joachim A. Koops,Thierry Tardy, Norrie MacQueen, and Paul D.Williams (eds.) The Oxford Handbook of United Nations Peacekeeping Operations (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), pp. 121–​132. United Nations, An Agenda for Peace: Preventive Diplomacy, Peacemaking and Peace-​keeping, Report of the Secretary-​General Pursuant to the Statement Adopted by the Summit Meeting of the Security Council on 31 January 1992, ST/​DPI/​1247, 1992. United Nations, Civil Affairs Handbook, PK/​H/​2012.02, 2012. United Nations, Final Report of the Panel of Experts on the Central African Republic Extended Pursuant to Security Council Resolution 2536 (2020), S/​2021/​569, 25 June 2021. United Nations, General Assembly resolution 55/​56, A/​RES/​55/​56, 29 January 2021. United Nations, Going Further Together: The Contribution of Human Rights Components to the Implementation of Mandates of United Nations Field Missions,” Geneva: Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, November 2020. United Nations, Joint Mission Analysis Center Field Handbook, PK/​G/​2018.03, 2018. United Nations, Letter dated 12 October 2012 from the Group of Experts on the Democratic Republic of the Congo Addressed to the Chair of the Security Council Committee Established Pursuant to Resolution 1533 (2004) Concerning the Democratic Republic of the Congo, S/​2012/​ 843, 15 November 2012. United Nations, Policy: Joint Mission Analysis Centers, PK/​P/​2020.06, 1 May 2020. United Nations, Report of the High-​level Independent Panel on Peace Operations on Uniting our Strengths for Peace: Politics, Partnership and People, A/​70/​95-​S/​2015/​446, 17 June 2015. United Nations, Report of the Panel on United Nations Peace Operations, A /​55/​305–​ S /​2000/​ 809, 21 August 2000. United Nations, Report of the Secretary-​General: Overall Policy Matters Pertaining to Special Political Missions, A/​76/​198, 18 August 2021. United Nations, Report of the Secretary-​1 General on the United Nations Organization Stabilization Mission in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, S/​2012/​838, 14 November 2012. United Nations, Report of the Special Committee on Peacekeeping Operations: 2020 Substantive Session (New York, 17 February-​12 March 2020), A/​74/​19, 2020. United Nations, Secretary-​General’s Bulletin: Organization of the Department of Political Affairs, ST/​SGB/​2009/​13/​Corr.1, 5 November 2009. United Nations, Security Council presidential statement, S/​PRST/​2021/​15, 9 August 2021. United Nations, Security Council presidential statement 2012/​22, S/​PRST/​2012/​22, 19 October 2012. United Nations, Security Council resolution 1306, S/​RES/​1306, 5 July 2000. United Nations, Security Council resolution 2399, S/​RES/​2399, 30 January 2018. United Nations, Security Council resolution 2531, S/​RES/​2531, 29 June 2020. United Nations, Strategy for the Digital Transformation of UN Peacekeeping, UN Departments of Peace Operations, Operational Support, and Management Strategy, Policy and Compliance, 17 August 2021.

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United Nations, UN Conceptual Approach to Integrated Climate-​Related Security Assessments, Informal Guidance Note, UN Climate Security Mechanism, 2020. United Nations, United Nations Department of Political Affairs Strategic Plan 2016-​19, UN Department of Political Affairs, 20 November 2015. United Nations and World Bank. Pathways for Peace: Inclusive Approaches to Preventing Conflict, Washington, DC: International Bank for Reconstruction and Development/​The World Bank, 2018. Van der Lijn, Jaïr, et al. “Assessing the of the United Nations Mission in Mali /​MINUSMA”, Effectiveness of Peace Operations Network Series, Oslo: Norwegian Institute of International Affairs, 2019. Verweijen, Judith. “Military Business and the Business of the Military in the Kivus”, Review of African Political Economy vol.40, no. 135, 2013. Wane, El Ghassim et al. Review of Peacekeeping Responses in Four Critical Missions, NewYork: UN Department of Peace Operations, March 2021. Wilmot, Haidi. Improving UN Situational Awareness: Enhancing the U.N.’s Ability to Prevent and Respond to Mass Human Suffering and to Ensure the Safety and Security of Its Personnel, Washington, DC: Stimson Center, August 2017.

8 CONFRONTING ILLICIT ECONOMIES AND CRIMINAL THREATS IN UN MISSIONS Operating in the “Grey Zone” Judith Vorrath

Introduction Contemporary UN peacekeeping missions usually operate in situations where state authority and the legal order are highly contested. The intrinsic links between the political and criminal spheres can be a key factor impeding meaningful progress towards sustainable peace. At the same time, the grey zone around such links tends to be particularly large in situations of “neither war nor peace”. In these contexts, the illicit components of political economies and related criminal agendas pose a significant challenge to UN peace operations, especially when restoring and strengthening state capacity are essential aspects of the missions’ mandate. The main balancing act for multidimensional UN peace operations is to engage with the centres of formal and informal authority –​often involved in a personalised struggle over power and resources –​and, at the same time, contribute to building a state grounded in the rule of law and democratic values. Under such conditions, peace operations have at times taken on functions usually performed by state actors, like policing or border enforcement. They also influence national laws, policies and standards, for example, by engaging in support to justice and policing, human rights and security sector reform programmes. Thus, they themselves become part of the setting and link to the respective political economy in various ways. This is the starting point for considering UN operations’ role in dealing with illicit economies and their links to insecurity. A second aspect is that UN peace operations are not the “only game in town”; other international and regional actors also try to influence the (post)conflict setting. Naturally, the related agendas of these different actors can compete or align when it comes to dealing with transnational criminality and illicit economies. Even within the UN system there is not always a coherent approach. There have been frequent demands by academics and practitioners for peace operations to better link with UN sanctions in contexts where both exist in DOI: 10.4324/9781003248637-9

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parallel. However, the approaches of these two different tools to illicit economies and criminal agendas are rarely assessed together. This chapter analyses how UN peace operations and UN sanctions regimes have aimed to respond to illicit economies and criminal threats in different conflict environments. After briefly outlining the evolution of the approaches taken by UN peacekeeping and sanctions in general, the chapter examines how they have addressed illicit economies and criminal agendas in Central African Republic (CAR), the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) and Mali based on an analysis of main reporting lines.1 The chapter argues that the more profound challenges for UN peacekeeping and sanctions regimes in dealing with the grey zone in criminalised conflict economies are conceptual and political rather than operational in nature. In this chapter, the phrase “criminalised conflict economy” is used to capture the features of political economies as they tend to occur in many UN mission settings. First, it refers to the unclear nature of the boundaries between what is legal and illegal (as well as criminal). Formal legal frameworks are rarely consistently enforced, and regulatory frameworks may also be unclear in and of themselves. Thus, legal practice strongly diverges from laws on paper. Moreover, the concept considers criminalising effects, intended or unintended, of international actors’ engagement, including direct efforts to influence or set formal rules and standards. The legitimacy of formal legal frameworks –​whether those that pre-​existed conflict or that reflect attempts at norm-​setting by international actors –​is a cross-​cutting theme.2 Scholars like Peter Andreas refer to criminalised war economies, which can include illicit trade in natural resources or drugs, arms trafficking, trading looted goods on the black market, all kinds of sanctions evasion and violations, as well as diversion of humanitarian aid.3 These types of activities and related networks extend into post-​war periods, leading to settings that have sometimes been referred to as “criminalised peace”, for example, in Afghanistan. Fighting might have mostly stopped and peace processes can be underway, yet violent conflict and insecurity persist –​at least partly linked to illicit economies. Even during periods of ongoing war, the role of criminal actors may be quite ambivalent as they can act “as both potential ‘enemy’ and ‘ally’ of peace processes”.4 Tackling crime and building peace are two distinct goals that may not always fit well together, even less so under shifting conditions and unclear labels of actors. Thus, the phrase “criminalized conflict economies” points to the messy reality in which UN missions operate and to some extent become part of. There have been frequent calls for a coherent UN response in tackling organised crime (OC), in particular between UN peacekeeping and UN Country Teams, Regional Offices and specialised agencies like the UN Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC).5 Greater alignment between UN missions and UN sanctions regimes is another potential way to deal with the challenges of criminalised conflict economies by building on synergies. In the cases in focus here, sanctions usually are applied in pursuit of the same goal as UN missions: supporting and sustaining peace. The UN sanctions architecture has also paid increasing attention to illicit

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economies and OC in the context of armed conflict and peace processes. The respective approaches strongly build on the work by the UN Panels of Experts (PoEs) monitoring the implementation of sanctions and supporting the respective UN Sanctions Committee.6 This chapter provides insights into obstacles for better UN coherence in criminalised conflict economies that prevail despite some common ground for action.

Tackling Organised Crime: A Growing, Yet Fragmented Response by Peacekeeping Policy-​makers, practitioners and academics have examined the nexus of transnational OC and armed conflict and its implications for peacekeeping since the end of the Cold War. According to Boutellis and Tiélès, “[n]‌owadays, almost three-​ quarter of UN peace operations […] operate in environments that are considered significantly affected by organised crime (OC)”.7 Beyond prominent cases like Afghanistan, Libya, Kosovo, Colombia, Mali and Haiti, similar dynamics are at work in the DRC, CAR and Somalia. But why should peacekeeping missions care? First, because OC can be a source of insecurity. In its 2004 report, the High-​Level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change referred to the direct threats by OC to state and human security, and its link to internal conflicts, the spread of weapons and terrorism.8 OC can also indirectly fuel armed conflict and violence, for example, by providing income to violent actors. It also tends to reduce the incentives for lasting peace.9 Such links can pose serious challenges to implementing mission mandates, but criminal agendas can also be a security risk for UN personnel on the ground.10 Security services and criminal justice systems may be unable or unwilling to combat OC to such an extent that international actors like the UN are called on to step in.11 In a rather restrained manner, the 2015 report of the High-​level Independent Panel on Peace Operations (HIPPO) noted that “Police components are often confronted with a context of rising transnational organized crime” and recommended that they acquire expertise in the area, “when requested and in partnership with others to support national police capacity”.12 There is another line of reasoning why UN peacekeeping should pay more attention to illicit economies, namely that missions can exacerbate the problem. In an indirect way, peace operations can create a more conducive business climate for OC, first, by providing a measure of security or by monitoring ceasefires lines.13 Second, the money spent on wages, rents and other goods and services can fuel the black market. Peacekeepers themselves may also create an increasing demand and thus fuel trafficking, for example, for sexual exploitation. But it might also simply be the infrastructure and transportation provided by missions that can be used for smuggling operations.14 Finally, direct involvement of peacekeepers in illicit activities has repeatedly occurred –​from Liberia and Haiti to the DRC and Kosovo.15 Thus, an approach of “do no crime” in conflict settings has been put forward for peacekeeping missions and other UN actors.16

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What really complicates dealing with these linkages is that the role of OC as a “spoiler” in peace processes is not at all clear-​cut. The types and characteristics of OC can vary significantly; for example, OC groups can be predatory, but also parasitic and symbiotic in their relationship to authority structures. Dealing with predatory OC groups needs a different approach –​most likely coercive rather than cooptive.17 And groups may change between such categories over time. There also is a common trade-​off between short-​term and longer-​term considerations in supporting peace. If criminal groups and their business help to sustain the population under precarious conditions or help to secure a degree of stability in a fragile peace settlement, targeting them might be counter-​productive. On the other hand, ignoring OC in the short term may enable criminal agendas to become nested in state structures during post-​conflict transitions. In the most extreme cases, former armed groups with strong criminal ties and business interests take over the government, as happened when Charles Taylor was elected into office in Liberia in 1997.18 In view of these difficult considerations and the lack of UN guidance, it is hardly surprising that the response by peacekeeping missions has been fragmented. Overall, measures have been developed in an ad hoc manner in reaction to challenges missions were facing, rather than implementation of a pre-​ defined strategy.19 While mission-​specific responses may be adequate given the different contexts, the respective Security Council resolutions have often not clearly referenced transnational OC in the operative paragraphs that specify a mission’s mandated tasks. Missions are rarely assigned the explicit role of tackling OC. Even the UN Interim Administration Mission in Kosovo (UNMIK), which had an executive mandate and actively tackled OC, did not have a direct mandate to do so, but rather addressed it as part of its responsibilities to strengthen the rule of law, maintain civil law and order, as well as monitor borders.20 Among the 28 peace operations existing in 2013, very few included executive policing functions and only ten mandates made reference to OC at all, mostly in a general way.21 Clearly, for smaller political missions with a mandate to combat crime like UNIOGBIS in Guinea-​Bissau, any real progress has been difficult to achieve.22 Larger peacekeeping missions are in a position to use a more robust approach, as in Haiti, where the police component, under proactive mission leadership, conducted operations against gangs.23 Similarly, in Liberia or the Western Balkans more targeted approaches were applied24 by peacekeeping missions, but under relatively favourable circumstances, including significant contributions from actors other than UN missions, namely specific member states or regional organisations like the European Union. Most other missions have dealt with criminality more indirectly, for example, through rule of law programmes or engaging in border and customs controls.25 Increasing efforts to scrutinise missions’ own role hardly add up to a coherent “do no crime” approach. Yet, the UN has introduced codes of conduct and increased awareness and training of UN mission personnel.26 Moreover, the information as provided by integrated analysis through the joint mission analysis cells is an important basis for guiding preventive as well as reactive measures.27 Yet, the overall impact of these improvements has been assessed as limited, as peacekeepers still lack

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expertise in criminal intelligence and political economy analysis and UN police components are not sufficiently trained and skilled for addressing OC.28 Another, more indirect way for peacekeeping to address OC has been capacity-​building of local law enforcement and relevant agencies. This kind of support by missions has become the main approach led by the UN Police Division.29 A more far-​reaching response by UN peacekeeping has proven difficult. Illicit trade flows might cover long distances linking conflict areas with neighbouring countries as well as far-​away places.Yet, the competency of national authorities and peace operations ends at the relevant entry and exit points of flows of the respective country’s territory. Williams and Picarelli refer to “do it yourself organized crime” by non-​state violent actors, particularly if production or exploitation sites of certain illicit or illicitly traded goods –​whether diamonds, gold, timber or drugs –​lie in conflict zones.30 Yet, the respective goods usually need to get to regional or international markets, which requires the involvement of other actors. Moreover, armed groups often engage in the taxation of illicit (and licit) economic activities in areas under their control.They may also provide protection or facilitation to traffickers or networks involving legal businesses and middlemen operating in or through these areas with a wider geographical reach. The most challenging environments will usually be those where political and criminal actors have a symbiotic relationship.31 Strengthening links with the UN sanctions system has been seen as a possible way to complement or even support missions’ responses in such difficult environments.

Same Objective, Different Reach: UN Sanctions’ Focus on “the Illicit” in Conflict Zones Among the current ten conflict-​related UN sanctions regimes,32 four apply to countries that have ongoing peacekeeping missions (CAR, DRC, Mali and South Sudan); the former UN-​African Union mission in Sudan has been transformed into an integrated UN transition assistance mission and five more have UN support/​ assistance missions (Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, Somalia and Yemen). Thus, peace operations and sanctions are often mandated by the UN Security Council in the same conflict settings. Unlike peace operations, sanctions are a coercive instrument to change behaviour, constrain certain activities and/​or signal and stigmatise a target.33 UN sanctions also have a different reach, as all UN member states are obliged to implement them.The information on illicit economies and criminal actors provided by Panels of Experts, tasked with reporting on sanctions compliance and making recommendations to improve their effectiveness,34 is the most direct potential benefit for UN missions operating in the same context.35 It has even been argued that the Security Council probably prefers to mandate PoEs to investigate illicit flows and trafficking because of the limitations for peace operations to do so.36 While this is not their prime goal, sanctions regimes have evolved in a way that can contribute to tackling illicit economies and criminal actors beyond providing information. With the development of targeted UN sanctions, a combination of

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arms embargo, travel ban and assets freeze has usually become part of the sanctions “package” to support containing or resolving armed conflict. Occasionally this is complemented by commodity bans like the one on charcoal from Somalia or the measures to block the illicit export of petroleum from Libya. These are meant to cut the ties of business and violence by depriving armed groups or other potential spoilers of their income. The criteria of sanctions regimes for listing individuals or entities are another means of tackling illicit business and OC, though unlike US sanctions against OC groups abroad (e.g. Mexican cartels or the Japanese Yakuza), the primary target of UN listings is not OC, but its links to the conflict and armed actors. Alongside a range of standard listing criteria, including those targeting individuals and entities undermining peace, committing human rights violations, or obstructing humanitarian assistance, almost all of the conflict-​related UN sanctions regimes have specific listing criteria referring to illicit economies. Most commonly these target supporting spoilers, armed groups or criminal networks through illicit economic activities and/​or illicitly generated revenue as shown in Table 8.1 for the three main cases analysed in the next section. TABLE 8.1  Listing Criteria Addressing Illicit Economies Threatening Peace and Security

Country-​Specific Regime

Specific Listing Criteria

Resolution

DR Congo

Supporting individuals or entities, including armed groups or criminal networks, involved in destabilizing activities in the DRC through the illicit exploitation or trade of natural resources, including gold or wildlife as well as wildlife products

Paragraph 7 (g) of resolution 2293 (2016)

CAR

Providing support for armed groups or criminal networks through the illicit exploitation or trade of natural resources, including diamonds, gold, wildlife as well as wildlife products in or from the CAR

Paragraph 21 (e) of resolution 2399 (2018)

Mali

Acting for or on behalf of or at the direction of or otherwise supporting or financing individuals and entities identified in subparagraphs 8 (a) and (b) of resolution 2374 (2017), including through the proceeds from organized crime, including the production and trafficking of narcotic drugs and their precursors originating in or transiting through Mali, the trafficking in persons and the smuggling of migrants, the smuggling and trafficking of arms as well as the trafficking in cultural property

Paragraph 8 (c) of resolution 2374 (2017)

Source: Summaries of listing criteria, UN sanctions page: www.un.org/​secu​r ity​coun​cil/​sancti​ons/​info​ rmat​ion [as of 15 December 2021].

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This, however, is where synergies with peace operations become more difficult. UN sanctions –​like UN peace operations –​can influence illicit economies in various ways. In situations with a large grey zone, an outside mechanism to (re)establish rules, for example, by imposing sanctions, may be useful, particularly when perpetrators of violence assume official state positions and exploit them for personal gain, as in Liberia and Sierra Leone at the end of the 1990s.37 But peace operations naturally remain concerned about the potential effects of sanctions on their mandates. The PoEs, as the “eyes and ears” of the Security Council on the ground, can make recommendations on adding persons and/​or entities to sanctions lists, as well as on changes in the regime to increase effectiveness. Their reports also have the function of “naming and shaming” those not complying with or (potentially) violating sanctions. Targeting specific persons, groups or activities may, however, be undesirable for UN missions due to the fear of negative political or security repercussions.38 This has been the most commonly named obstacle for stronger convergence of UN peace operations with PoEs and the UN sanctions system more generally –​apart from concerns about negative humanitarian side effects of sanctions. Yet, the potential as well as limitations for more synergies between UN peace operations and UN sanctions in criminalised conflict economies has rarely been analysed in detail, even less so for more recent cases.

UN Peacekeeping and Sanctions in Criminalised Conflict Economies: Insights from CAR, DRC and Mali Academics and practitioners have repeatedly demanded more coherence and cooperation of UN peace operations and sanctions in tackling OC and illicit economies. There have been suggestions concerning the interaction between missions and PoEs, for example, more standardised information-​sharing or improved cooperation on specific joint tasks like border control or disarmament, demobilisation and reintegration (DDR) programmes with embargo monitoring.39 While such operational entry points are relevant, the more profound challenges are conceptual and political. Looking at how peacekeeping and sanctions relate to the grey zone in criminalised conflict economies sheds light on prevailing obstacles as well as areas for further research. The focus here is mainly on the set-​up of UN missions and sanctions, the analysis of illicit economies and OC in reports by the UN Secretary-​ General and by the PoEs, as well as the responses put forward for the cases of CAR, DRC and Mali.40

The “Grey Zone”: Conceptual Challenges The extensive grey zone in criminalised conflict economies renders any categorisation of activities and actors difficult. This challenge is mirrored in reports by the UN Secretary-​General (SG) as well as PoEs in various ways. In essence, SG and PoE reports41 between 2015 and mid-​2021 tend to converge around the types of illicit economies they focus on, but differ in their grasp of related threats for peace and

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security and the actors involved. For Mali, the PoE reports refer in detail to drug trafficking (in general and/​or trafficking of cocaine and hashish more explicitly), migrant smuggling and human trafficking, cigarette smuggling and gold mining, while the SG’s reports mostly contain general reference to transnational OC. Drug trafficking is the only type of trafficking repeatedly mentioned in SG reports across different years while there is frequent reference to special judicial measures related to terrorism and OC in general. The SG and PoE reports on DRC and CAR tend to focus on the illicit exploitation and trade in natural resources (primarily minerals). Moreover, the PoE on CAR regularly reports on arms trafficking and illicit activities related to cross-​border transhumance which both are also mentioned frequently in the SG reports. Apart from this overlap in types of illicit economies reported, there also is some alignment in the use of key terms. The SG and PoE reports on DRC and CAR most commonly refer to “criminal networks”. But SG reports also frequently refer to “organised crime”, while the term is only used by PoEs in the case of Mali. What these terms concretely entail and what links of illicit economies to peace and security are mainly reported significantly differs –​within and across the three cases. One reason for this clearly might be the settings themselves, especially the mentioned large grey zone. In fact, the reporting lines on CAR and DRC both repeatedly refer to the challenge of blurred categories. For example, the SG reports on CAR and the DRC mention difficulties to distinguish between criminal and political motivations of violence42 or of armed groups like Mai-​Mai groups in North and South Kivu in eastern DRC which are described more like criminal gangs, supported by political and state actors while at the same time taking on an ethnic or anti-​government agenda.43 The PoEs on the DRC and CAR frequently stress how intertwined legal and illegal are in the exploitation of and trade in natural resources, particularly in the gold sector44 as well as in the cattle economy of CAR.45 This is typical for the trade in goods that are generally legal, but are pushed into the illegal sphere due to the conditions in the respective conflict zone, in particular links to non-​state armed groups. In contrast, activities like drug or human trafficking are more clearly classified as illegal, even if they may not be seen as such locally. This might explain why blurred categories come up less in the reporting lines on Mali as these kinds of trafficking play such a crucial role, particularly in the North. In the light of the substantial room for interpretation in criminalised conflict economies, PoE as well as SG reports naturally rely on their respective mandates. In general, the SG reports stress the involvement of certain non-​state armed groups inside a country and related violence as well as threats to state authority. The PoE reports also take a closer look at spoilers and identify regional and international actors and trade hubs relevant for illicit economies in the conflict zones. The differences within and between cases become most visible when it comes to the analysis of actors involved and links that amount to threats to peace and security. For Mali, the focus of SG and PoE reports differs significantly. The SG reports regularly mention transnational OC as a threat to security and the peace process.

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There is strong reference to drug trafficking in a 2017 report, as well as to the “financing of terrorism through illicit trafficking and the more frequent use of trafficking routes for illegal migration flows”.46 The most immediate concern in the reports, however, is the spread of activities by violent extremist, terrorist and criminal groups as actors that remain outside of the peace agreement,47 including attacks on convoys of the UN Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in Mali (MINUSMA) along main supply routes in Northern Mali.48 Terrorism and OC are usually mentioned together and the nexus between the two is assessed as growing in the sub-​region.49 More recently, the reports mirror the threat to civilians by violent extremist groups in northern Mali, including abduction, intimidation and illegal taxation. Criminal activities related to some gold-​mining sites are mentioned –​again with reference to the illegal taxation by extremist groups.50 The PoE reports –​which only start in 2018, following the 2017 establishment of the sanctions regime on Mali –​provide a different assessment. Generally, they state that traffickers (especially of drugs like Moroccan-​produced cannabis resin) from different communities in the north rely on armed groups in a pragmatic way to secure their business.51 There is reference to terrorist groups profiting from illicit trafficking and to some extent from gold mining that has emerged around Kidal. But the assessment of the PoE is that traffickers seem to prefer signatory armed groups –​those that signed the 2015 Algiers accords –​as allies for securing protection rather than terrorist groups, as the former are less exposed.52 The PoE reports view the transit of drugs through northern Mali as a threat to the implementation of the peace agreement, since it creates competition between signatory armed groups around the major routes. There are regular fights over drug convoys including violent clashes.53 These same routes are apparently used for arms trafficking, migrant smuggling and trade in licit goods, such as fuel.54 The Mali PoE reports also frequently reference the involvement of state actors and their links to traffickers.55 Sometimes, the blurred line between “state” and “non-​state” actors is illustrated, like in the case of an armed group’s military official who retains influence over ex-​combatants integrated into the Malian army that he uses to sustain his drug trafficking operations.56 The latter aspect, in fact, runs across all PoE reports in the three cases.The DRC Group of Experts 2016 report depicts criminal networks as “a group engaged in repeated, organized criminal activities for personal gain that cause significant harm to the larger community”.57 The same report also points out that such networks can exist within state structures, including the military, and refers to cases involving former members of armed groups as well as current and former officers of the Congolese armed forces.58 The military and armed groups also have business relationships with each other and engage in extortion schemes around the same mining sites.59 In contrast, the SG reports on the DRC refer to criminal actors in a much more limited way. The key concern clearly is neutralising armed groups in the eastern part of the country, which needs “[d]‌isarmament, demobilization and reintegration, the extension of State authority and efforts to disrupt the support base,

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networks, and financing of armed groups, some of which are criminal in nature”.60 This focus also shows in the more tailored strategies for specific conflict-​affected areas of the DRC that had been developed by 2020. These strategies indirectly relate to illicit economies, by aiming to reduce armed groups’ access to weapons (in Ituri) or to degrade their networks for recruitment, trafficking and support (in Beni area in North Kivu).61 In the case of CAR, the SG and PoE reports have a stronger overlap. The main concern across the SG reports is the violence stemming from the economic interests of armed groups, particularly in illicit gold and diamond mining. The reports mention ex-​Séléka, anti-​balaka groups and affiliated militias as relevant actors, often with localised criminal agendas and the tendency to fight among each other.62 They also detail how some of these armed groups have set up parallel administrative and justice systems in areas under their control including in mining areas, thus hampering the establishment of meaningful state authority.63 Later reports underline threats from the violence between armed groups due to competition over the access to natural resources, as well as illegal taxation.64 Crimes like armed robbery, kidnappings and looting as well as gangs engaged in extortion and illegal taxation are also described as prevalent sources of violence in some areas.65 The CAR PoE reports also stress the violence between armed groups around economic interests –​whether linked to the exploitation of natural resources or cattle-​related activities.66 They equally describe how Ex-​ Séléka factions, for example, set up parallel structures that resemble the official mining administration, including the issuance of licenses to miners and collectors.67 Yet, in areas where the establishment of state authority is not opposed like in the western part of CAR, the state has been complicit working with armed groups in trafficking.68 Moreover, the reports detail how members of the armed forces are also directly involved in trafficking, for example, of ammunition.69 Elsewhere, including at Bangui airport, army officers, gendarmes and other officers have facilitated trafficking operations or engaged in illegal taxation of trade or the movement of people.70 Apart from the role of state actors in illicit economies, the PoE reports also tackle the transnational links of illicit economies in greater detail across the three cases. On Mali, for example, unlike the SG reports, the PoE reports provide extensive information about the regional connections of criminal networks engaged in drug trafficking through northern Mali. The attempts to resolve conflicts over the control of routes and drug shipments frequently involve authorities from neighbouring countries, backing different actors inside Mali.71 A number of shell companies established in Algeria, Mali, Morocco and Niger suspected to be used for laundering drug money and financing trafficking operations have also been identified by the PoE.72 In the reports on CAR, the panel almost exclusively uses the term “criminal network” in relation to outside actors such as a network of Indian traders involved in diamond smuggling,73 international networks exporting natural resources from Cameroon that originate from the CAR,74 or arms trafficking networks in Chad and Sudan linked to armed actors in CAR.75 The reports depict

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a set of actors in the illegal trade of diamonds, including buying houses and traders from Sudan, DRC and Chad.76 Exposed smuggling cases from areas controlled by armed groups have also involved traders of Indian77 or Chinese nationality78 and in one case an Israeli collector who had already been arrested in Mali in 2004 for smuggling rough diamonds and was suspected of the same activities by the Group of Experts on Ivory Coast.79 Similarly, the DRC PoE reports refer to cross-​border connections between various actors engaged in the illicit trade in natural resources, like brokers (négociants), trading or exporting companies (comptoirs) and various middlemen linking the DRC with its neighbour countries, but also more distant places, like Dubai.80 There are two essential differences in how the grey zone is grasped in SG and PoE reports. First, in line with the earlier assessment of the different reach of peacekeeping and sanctions, not surprisingly, monitoring of the latter more extensively refers to the involvement of state actors in illicit economies as well as the different transnational links of flows and actors. Second, there are differences between cases, most noticeable between Mali on the one hand and CAR and DRC on the other when it comes to what kind of links to violent actors in the conflict area are emphasised. For the differences between cases, the diverging types of illicit economies seem to be a relevant factor. Concerning the clear difference between SG and PoE reporting on Mali about links with armed groups, a closer look at the respective mandates is useful.81 The current mandates of the three UN peace operations82 broadly match with PoE mandates when it comes to the kind of illicit economies in focus, respectively. As already mentioned, the peacekeeping mandates mostly address illicit economies and/​or OC in their operating environment indirectly through support for re-​ establishing state authority. The PoEs, on the other hand, not only look at illicit flows and criminal actors as part of monitoring the implementation of measures like arms embargoes and commodity bans, but also based on the listing criteria of the UN regimes. Thus, the PoE reports naturally mirror the underlying criteria listed in Table 8.1. The different assessment of the role of armed groups in illicit economies for Mali seems to be due to the listing criterion of the sanctions regime, which necessitates links to two other listing criteria on violating or obstructing the implementation of the peace agreement signed in 2015. This directs PoE reporting, while the mission is more concerned with extremist or terrorist groups targeting civilians as well as the mission itself and thus the SG reports stress the OC-​terror nexus. It is likely that other factors also play a role, such as the composition of the panels and mission leadership. Simply speaking, SG and PoE reports have different functions, which undoubtedly are reflected in how they grasp the grey zone. Surely, internal reporting by UN peace operations looks quite different from public SG reporting, just as the confidential annexes and reports by PoEs may shed another light on the information officially provided. As official reports, however, both influence how decision-​ makers –​including inside the Secretariat and among members of the Security

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Council –​see specific issues in the respective conflict. More importantly, this may also mirror in the responses taken by peace operations and sanctions regimes.

Engaging with the Grey Zone: Political Challenges As outlined in the SG reports, UN peace operations apply three approaches to criminalised conflict economies: operational support for state authorities, technical support and capacity-​building particularly of security forces and agencies, as well as supporting legislative and policy reforms by national governments. In practice, the three missions take significantly different approaches in line with their mandates, but also assessments of the illicit economies and related threats. MINUSMA has relied heavily on capacity-​building, while the UN Organisation Stabilisation Mission in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (MONUSCO) and the Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in the Central African Republic (MINUSCA) –​ apart from also providing technical support –​have used operational support to authorities, as well as strengthening reform efforts as main entry points. When comparing this to recommendations put forward by the respective PoEs, two observations stand out: first, there is relatively strong convergence with the SG reports of CAR and the DRC when it comes to tackling the illicit exploitation of and trade in natural resources. Second, the differences in the assessments on Mali mentioned in the last section are mirrored in diverging responses by peacekeeping missions and recommendations by PoEs. On the first point, responses mentioned in the SG and PoE reports most visibly converge with regard to extracting and trading natural resources –​i.e. on measures to reduce the grey zone. MINUSCA and MONUSCO both have supported the increase of state presence and oversight in mining areas, as well as joint patrols.83 Another field of activities by missions commonly reported is the support for reforms in specific sectors, including the development of national strategies, for example, to curb the illicit exploitation of and trafficking in natural resources by the CAR government84 or MONUSCO’s engagement with the Office of the Special Envoy for the Great Lakes Region to strengthen the regional element of strategies, including on the illegal trafficking of natural resources.85 MONUSCO also provided technical support for setting up a monitoring system aimed at strengthening civilian control over the extraction and trade of gold to increase legitimate economic activity and reduce illicit income for armed groups.86 The recommendations by the expert panel/​g roup on CAR and DRC often concerned the adoption and/​or implementation of certain rules and standards for managing natural resources. The group on the DRC, for example, called for a secure traceability and chain of custody system for the gold sector87 and the panel on CAR for the proper verification of activities, for example, of buying houses which have received a license to trade rough diamonds and gold in CAR.88 Even more frequent is the call for better monitoring and controls as well as investigating those responsible for illicit activities in these sectors including mining companies,89 military officers involved or those who collaborate with armed groups.90

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The Panel on CAR has even called on the Sanctions Committee to encourage MINUSCA to continue its support to the national strategy for addressing the illegal taxation and exploitation of natural resources by armed groups and to encourage the mission to appoint a focal point fully dedicated for natural resources.91 Moreover, PoEs by their investigations also provide relevant information on the effect of measures introduced. For the DRC, they have, for example, reported the use of fake certificates and of diverted tracing tags for minerals from non-​validated mining sites after the traceability and transparency mechanisms in the tin, tantalum and tungsten supply chains were established.92 This leads to the second finding that such convergence of responses between the PoE and the peacekeeping mission can rarely be identified in the reports on Mali. For the whole period under review, MINUSMA has mostly provided specialised capacity-​building, for example, through its own transnational OC cell.93 MINUSMA has focused on support to the Malian Specialized Judicial Unit on Terrorism and Transnational Organized Crime –​approved by the government in October 2015 –​through training, technical assistance and co-​location. From 2018 onwards, equipment and training was jointly provided with UNODC94 and MINUSMA has also cooperated directly with the Unit on cases that relate to attacks against peacekeepers.95 Overall, MINUSMA has trained Malian defence and security force personnel on a range of issues related to transnational OC and terrorism, like intelligence gathering and forensic investigations, as well as later on human trafficking and illegal migration.96 However, looking at the output of investigations by the Unit, it becomes clear that the main focus is on countering terrorism. As of July 2019, there had been 458 cases investigated by the Unit, including 200 on terrorism, 45 on transnational OC and 231 on general criminal matters.97 When it comes to cases tried in court, the SG reports exclusively refer to terrorism-​related cases by 2020.98 The PoE for Mali has also recommended encouraging the Malian government, supported by MINUSMA, to carry out judiciary investigations in the north of the country and prosecute armed group members suspected of involvement in attacks and OC.99 On closer look, however, there was little convergence in responses put forward by the UN mission and the PoE on illicit economies. First, there seemed to be a lack of information sharing. The Panel has frequently recommended that the UN Security Council shall engage with governments of neighbouring countries to support the exchange of information with the panel, for example, on seizures of drugs and arrests of traffickers.100 The 2020 report even asked the Security Council “to encourage MINUSMA to exchange in a timely manner information with Panel of Experts”,101 so there also seems to be a lack in communication between the two. The reports have at times exposed some individuals involved in these crimes in Mali102 as well as state agents protecting criminal enterprises linked to armed groups, e.g., payments by one listed individual to Malian state security service or protection by state security force of a notorious human trafficker.103 Since drug trafficking, human trafficking and migrant smuggling can hardly be shifted into the legal sphere, the Panel recommended to the Council to encourage signatory

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parties including the Malian government to investigate and undertake disciplinary measures or legal procedures against members or officers involved in any sort of trafficking.104 Here engagement by MINUSMA to strengthen law enforcement could have contributed. But the mission continuously lacked specialised police personnel including experts on transnational OC, drug trafficking and SALW as the SG reports point out.105 At the same time, the sanctions regime was of little use in tackling the terrorist threat. A 2017 UNSG report asks the Security Council to consider expanding the mandate of the Monitoring Team of the Sanctions Committee concerning Islamic State in Iraq and the Levant (Da’esh) and Al-​Qaida to increase the focus on violent extremist and terrorist groups’ activities in the Sahel.106 In general, a clear mandate providing the grounds for cooperation between the PoEs and peacekeeping missions (e.g. regarding arms monitoring and seizures in CAR) and efforts of reducing the grey zone where illicit economies can potentially become part of legal trade flows seem to enable a certain convergence or at least coherence of the two different UN instruments. Even in cases like Mali, they can work in a complementary way when it comes to addressing illicit economies, for example, PoEs provide relevant information for better understanding the grey zone in criminalised conflict economies and for the mission to act on it. However, this can only work with clear political guidance by the Committee and/​or the Security Council. Capacities matter as the chronic shortage of technical expertise in MINUSMA highlights, but priorities in addressing threats related to illicit economies need to be defined first, even more so if criminal networks involved are powerful local figures and/​or politically well connected. Raising issues like the involvement of state officials or the military in host states can pose political challenges, especially as actors in conflict areas may not distinguish between different UN actors.107 PoEs are particularly well placed to investigate these and expose them.Yet, actual responses must be directed by the UN bodies in New York. The most obvious possible action by the Sanctions Committee is the designation of individuals or entities on sanctions lists based on the PoE information. As Table 8.2 shows, however, this has rarely happened so far. It is impossible to know how many recommendations for listings by the PoEs have been made, because this

TABLE 8.2  Designations of Individuals/​Entities Based on Listing Criteria in Table 8.1

Regime

CAR (set up 2013)

DRC (set up 2003)

Mali (set up 2017)

Designations total Designations based i.a. on “illicit” criterion Designations based only on “illicit” criterion

14  6 /​

45 /​  1

8 2 1

Source: Based on narrative summaries of reasons for listing on UN Sanctions page: www.un.org/​secu​ rity​coun​cil/​sancti​ons/​info​r mat​ion [as of 15 December 2021].

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information is confidential and Committee members can block designations. But the open information across all reports from the last five years by PoEs suggests that there have been significantly more candidates than those listed. Only in the case of CAR, the number in relation to the number of overall listings seems significant. However, four out of the six listings in the table are related to the Lord’s Resistance Army and its involvement in elephant poaching and ivory trafficking for revenue; only two are related to diamond trafficking linked to the former Séléka. Thus, “naming and shaming” in PoE reports often seems to lack follow-​up, at least within the UN sanctions system. This may seriously inhibit the willingness of peace operations, especially its leadership, to more closely cooperate with PoEs as they can provide information and recommendations, but not act themselves on these. This is a key reason why responses by UN peace operations and sanctions towards illicit economies will remain incoherent unless mandates are adapted and instructions provided on what links UN actors on the ground should focus on in the interest of supporting peace. An expansion of operational efforts can hardly make up for this.

Conclusion Sanctions monitoring through PoEs provides a wealth of insights into the grey zone, including the involvement of various types of actors, their shifting labels over time and the transnational dimensions of criminal networks. At a minimum, this can enable peacekeeping missions to better assess its operational environment and how they can become entangled in criminalised conflict economies. Ultimately, a more coherent use of peacekeeping and sanctions in these contexts will depend on the willingness of the Security Council to provide clearer guidance on how to approach the grey zone. The illicit economies around natural resources show that changing rules and standards under international guidance or even pressure can lead to shifts in the grey zone rather than substantially reducing it. Moreover, efforts need to be made to ensure that the formalisation of specific sectors does not become a hurdle to business, but a basis to support the livelihood of those living in mining areas. Ideally, peace operations and sanctions could converge in securing more transparency and accountability in the respective sectors. While peace operations tend to pursue a containment approach vis-​à-​vis illicit economies in their area of operation, here some synergy towards a more transformative approach may be possible –​even more so as commodity bans as part of sanctions regimes or other restrictions on the export in natural resources can and should not remain in place forever. Naturally, these measures alone will not solve armed conflict and need to be accompanied by closely monitoring national and sub-​national governance around resources as well as revenue flows. Convergence is even more difficult when the types of illicit activities clearly fall into the criminal sphere, at least formally. Where impunity prevails, listing criteria relating to illicit economies could provide some leverage to target actors that have relevance in the criminalised conflict economy.Yet, they have rarely been used for

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designations, so their effects remain limited. In 2018, for the first time, designations explicitly targeted heads of trafficking networks –​in this case six persons in Libya engaged in human trafficking and smuggling. So far, Libya is an exceptional case108, particularly as the designations were justified mainly based on gross human rights violations linked to the exploitation and abuses of migrants inside Libya that had aroused public outrage after extensive media reporting. Since naming persons and entities engaged in illicit activities is particularly sensitive, there needs to be clear political backing for targeting such actors in New York. This is not only about deciding on listings, but also considering the consequences for the wider efforts of peacekeeping and conflict resolution. This is equally crucial when it comes to capacity-​building, technical assistance and operational support by peace operations to address illicit economies or OC. As stabilisation missions, the UN peacekeeping operations in CAR, Mali and DRC include mandates for the use of force against groups. Some have argued that this compromises their acceptance and their impartiality, one of the core principles of UN peacekeeping.109 In the light of the significant risks, missions are unlikely to take further steps if there is no policy or guidance on how to address illicit economies and criminal networks. Building more synergies of efforts by peacekeeping and PoEs in criminalised conflict economies cannot be expected from the operational level alone.

Notes 1 I would like to thank Laura Marcela Zuñiga for her crucial and tireless support by compiling data on illicit economies for the mentioned focus countries based on UN Panel of Expert reports as well as reports by the UN Secretary-​General. An analysis of key features of illicit economies in African conflicts can be found in our co-​authored paper Vorrath, Judith and Laura Marcela Zuñiga, “Key Features of Illicit Economies in African Conflicts: Insights from the Reports of UN Panels of Experts”, SWP Comment 2022/​C 36, 23 May 2022 [available at www.swp-​ber​lin.org/​en/​publ​icat​ion/​key-​featu​res-​of-​illi​cit-​econom​ ies-​in-​afri​can-​confli​cts]. The related data compilation from UN Panel of Expert reports is freely available at: https://​doi.org/​10.7802/​2421 2 On the potential disconnect between local legitimacy and state-​backed laws, see, e.g., James Cockayne and Adam Lupel, “Conclusion: From Iron Fist to Invisible Hand –​ Peace Operations, Organized Crime and Intelligent International Law Enforcement”, International Peacekeeping, 2009, 16:1, (151–​168), 152–​3. 3 Peter Andreas, “Symbiosis Between Peace Operations and Illicit Business in Bosnia”, International Peacekeeping, vol. 16, no. 1, 2009, p. 33. 4 Cockayne and Lupel, “Conclusion: From Iron Fist to Invisible Hand”, p. 151. 5 Arthur Boutellis and Stephanie Tiélès, “Peace Operations and Organised Crime: Still Foggy?” in Cedric de Coning and Mateja Peter (eds.), United Nations Peace Operations in a Changing Global Order (London: Palgrave Macmillan 2019), p. 187. 6 For further details, see the contribution by Charles Cater in this volume. 7 Boutellis and Tiélès, “Peace Operations and Organised Crime”, p. 171. 8 UN General Assembly (UNGA), A More Secure World: Our Shared Responsibility, Report of  the High-​level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change, A/​59/​565, 2 December 2004, p. 49.

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9 James Cockayne and Daniel Pfister, “Peace Operations and Organised Crime”, International Peace Institute & Geneva Centre for Security Policy: Geneva Papers 2, 2008, p. 5. 10 Boutellis and Tiélès, “Peace Operations and Organised Crime”, p. 173. 11 Cockayne and Lupel, “Conclusion: From Iron Fist to Invisible Hand”, p. 151. 12 High-​Level Independent Panel on Peace Operations (HIPPO), “Uniting Our Strengths for Peace: Politics, Partnership and People”, Report, 16 June 2015, para. 166. 13 HIPPO, “Uniting Our Strengths for Peace”, p. 42. 14 Andreas, “Symbiosis between Peace Operations and Illicit Business”, p. 6. 15 James Cockayne and Adam Lupel, “Introduction: Rethinking the Relationship between Peace Operations and Organized Crime”, International Peacekeeping, vol. 16, no. 1, 2009b, p. 12; Cockayne and Pfister, “Peace Operations and Organised Crime”, p.26. 16 Louise Bosetti, James Cockayne and John de Boer,“Crime-​Proofing Conflict Prevention, Management, and Peacebuilding: A Review of Emerging Good Practice”, United Nations University Centre for Policy Research Occasional Paper 6, August 2016, p. 1. 17 Cockayne and Lupel, “Conclusion: From Iron Fist to Invisible Hand”, p. 156. 18 Nika Stražišar Teran, “Peacebuilding and Organized Crime: The Cases of Kosovo and Liberia”, swisspeace:Working Paper 1/​2007, Bern 2007. 19 Wibke Hansen, “The Organized Crime –​Peace Operations Nexus”, PRISM 5 no. 1, October 2015, p. 70. 20 Teran, “Peacebuilding and Organized Crime”, 14; Walter Kemp, Mark Shaw, and Arthur Boutellis,“The Elephant in the Room: How Can Peace Operations Deal with Organized Crime?” (New York: International Peace Institute, June, 2013), p. 12. 21 Kemp et al., “The Elephant in the Room”, p. 7. 22 Boutellis and Tiélès, “Peace Operations and Organised Crime”, p. 174. 23 Kemp et al., “The Elephant in the Room”, p. 32. 24 Cockayne and Lupel “Conclusion: From Iron Fist to Invisible Hand”, p. 156. 25 Victoria K. Holt and Alix J. Boucher, “Framing the Issue: UN Responses to Corruption and Criminal Networks in Post-​Conflict Settings”, International Peacekeeping, vol. 16, no. 1, 2009, p. 24. 26 Kemp et al., “The Elephant in the Room”, p. 65. 27 Cockayne and Lupel “Conclusion: From Iron Fist to Invisible Hand”, pp. 164–​5. 28 Holt and Boucher, “Framing the Issue”, p. 24; Boutellis and Tiélès, “Peace Operations and Organised Crime”, p. 178. 29 Boutellis and Tiélès, “Peace Operations and Organised Crime”, p. 179. 30 Phil Williams and John T. Picarelli, “Combating Organized Crime in Armed Conflict”, in Karen Ballentine and Heiko Nitzschke (eds.), Profiting from Peace: Managing the Resource Dimensions of Civil War (Boulder and London: Lynne Rienner, 2005), p. 125. 31 Paul D. Williams with Alex J. Bellamy, Understanding Peacekeeping, Third Edition (Cambridge: Polity Press 2021), p. 399. 32 As of May 2022. 33 Thomas J. Biersteker, Marcos Tourinho and Sue E. Eckert, “Thinking about United Nations Targeted Sanctions”, in Thomas J. Biersteker, Sue E. Eckert and Marcos Tourinho (eds.), Targeted Sanctions: The Impacts and Effectiveness of United Nations Action (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), p. 22. 34 See chapter by Charles Cater in this volume. 35 Teran, “Peacebuilding and Organized Crime”, p. 37; Cockayne and Pfister, “Peace Operations and Organised Crime”, p. 46; Kemp et al. “The Elephant in the Room”, pp. 58–​9. 36 Boutellis and Tiélès, “Peace Operations and Organised Crime”, p. 178.

Confronting Illicit Economies and Criminal Threats in UN Missions  169

37 Judith Vorrath, “From War to Illicit Economies: Organized Crime and State-​building in Liberia and Sierra Leone”, SWP Research Paper 2014/​RP 13, 2014, p. 11: www.swp-​ber​ lin.org/​publ​ikat​ion/​organi​zed-​crime-​in-​libe​r ia-​and-​sie​r ra-​leone. 38 Kemp et al., “The Elephant in the Room”, p. 8. 39 Cockayne and Lupel “Conclusion: From Iron Fist to Invisible Hand”, 163; Holt and Boucher, “Framing the Issue”, pp. 28–​9. 40 Naturally, official reporting is always driven by a variety of influences –​formal or informal. Discussing and analysing in how far reports depict activities and actors in an adequate way goes beyond the scope of this chapter. 41 In the case of the DRC, the entity responsible for monitoring sanctions implementation is called “Group of Experts”. 42 S/​2015/​227. 43 S/​2017/​826. 44 S/​2018/​1119; S/​2020/​662. 45 S/​2018/​1119. 46 S/​2017/​271*. 47 S/​2015/​426*. 48 S/​2015/​1030. 49 S/​2017/​271*. 50 S/​2021/​519. 51 S/​2018/​581*. 52 S/​2018/​581*. 53 S/​2018/​581*; S/​2019/​636. 54 S/​2018/​581*. 55 e.g. S/​2018/​581*; S/​2019/​636; S/​2020/​785/​Rev.1. 56 S/​2021/​714. 57 S/​2016/​466. 58 S/​2016/​466. 59 S/​2018/​1133*. 60 S/​2016/​233*. 61 S/​2020/​554. 62 S/​2016/​565. 63 S/​2017/​94; S/​2017/​473. 64 S/​2018/​125; S/​2018/​922. 65 S/​2018/​611; S/​2020/​124. 66 S/​2016/​1032; S/​2017/​1023; S/​2019/​608. 67 S/​2018/​729. 68 S/​2017/​1023. 69 S/​2017/​1023. 70 S/​2016/​1032; S/​2018/​1119. 71 S/​2020/​785/​Rev.1. 72 S/​2020/​158/​Rev.1. 73 S/​2019/​608. 74 S/​2021/​569. 75 S/​2021/​569. 76 S/​2015/​936. 77 S/​2015/​936. 78 S/​2021/​569. 79 S/​2016/​1032.

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8 0 S/​2016/​466; S/​2016/​1102. 81 References to mandates as of December 2021. 82 DRC: S/​RES/​2612 (2021); CAR: S/​RES/​2605 (2021); Mali: S/​RES/​2584 (2021). 83 CAR: S/​2017/​94; S/​2018/​125; DRC: S/​2017/​824; S/​2020/​554; S/​2017/​824. 84 S/​2017/​94; S/​2017/​865. 85 S/​2020/​554. 86 S/​2020/​554; On the pitfalls of this approach, see the chapter by Tatiana Carayannis and Michael Kavanagh in this volume. 87 S/​2016/​466. 88 S/​2017/​1023. 89 CAR: S/​2021/​87; S/​2021/​569. 90 DRC: S/​2018/​531; S/​2018/​1133*. 91 S/​2017/​1023. 92 S/​2018/​1133*. 93 S/​2015/​219. 94 S/​2018/​541*. 95 S/​2018/​866. 96 S/​2015/​1030; S/​2017/​811; S/​2019/​262. 97 S/​2019/​782. 98 S/​2020/​1281. 99 S/​2018/​581*. 100 S/​2019/​636; S/​2020/​785/​Rev.1; S/​2018/​581*. 101 S/​2020/​785/​Rev.1. 102 S/​2019/​137; S/​2020/​158/​Rev.1. 103 S/​2020/​785/​Rev.1. 104 S/​2021/​714. 105 S/​2016/​281; S/​2016/​819; S/​2017/​478; S/​2017/​811; S/​2018/​273*; S/​2018/​866; S/​ 2018/​1174; S/​2019/​262. 106 S/​2017/​478.This is a global thematic sanctions regime with a focus on terrorist groups and those supporting them rather than a specific conflict area. 107 Alix J. Boucher, UN Panels of Experts and UN Peace Operations: Exploiting Synergies for Peacebuilding (Washington D.C.: The Stimson Center, 2010), p. 8. 108 For further details, see Judith Vorrath, “If you can’t catch them, sanction them? What the recent Libya listings tell us about the use of UN sanctions against transnational crime”, UN-​TOC Watch, Blog by the Global Initiative against Transnational Organized Crime, Posted 16 November 2018: https://​globa​lini​tiat​ive.net/​analy​sis/​ un_​sanc​tion​s_​li​bya/​. 109 John Karlsrud, “The UN at War: Examining the Consequences of Peace-​Enforcement Mandates for the UN Peacekeeping Operations in the CAR, the DRC and Mali”, Third World Quarterly, vol. 36, no. 1, 2015, p. 50.

Bibliography Andreas, Peter, “Symbiosis between Peace Operations and Illicit Business in Bosnia,” International Peacekeeping, vol. 16, no. 1, 2009, 33–​46. Biersteker, Thomas J., Marcos Tourinho and Sue E. Eckert, Thinking about United Nations Targeted Sanctions,” in Thomas J. Biersteker, Sue E. Eckert and Marcos Tourinho (eds.), Targeted Sanctions: The Impacts and Effectiveness of United Nations Action (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 11–​37.

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Bosetti, Louise, James Cockayne and John de Boer, “Crime-​Proofing Conflict Prevention, Management, and Peacebuilding: A Review of Emerging Good Practice,” United Nations University Centre for Policy Research Occasional Paper 6, August 2016. Boucher, Alix J.,UN Panels of Experts and UN Peace Operations: Exploiting Synergies for Peacebuilding (Washington D.C.: The Stimson Center, 2010). Boutellis, Arthur and Stephanie Tiélès, “Peace Operations and Organised Crime: Still Foggy?” in Cedric de Coning and Mateja Peter (eds.), United Nations Peace Operations in a Changing Global Order (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019), 169–​190. Cockayne, James and Adam Lupel, “Conclusion: From Iron Fist to Invisible Hand –​ Peace Operations, Organized Crime and Intelligent International Law Enforcement,” International Peacekeeping, vol. 16, no. 1, 2009, 151–​168. Cockayne, James and Adam Lupel, “Introduction: Rethinking the Relationship between Peace Operations and Organized Crime,” International Peacekeeping, vol. 16, no. 1, 2009, 4–​19. Cockayne, James and Daniel Pfister, “Peace Operations and Organized Crime, International Peace Institute & Geneva Centre for Security Policy,” Geneva Papers 2, 2008. Hansen,Wibke,“The Organized Crime –​Peace Operations Nexus, PRISM 5, no. 1, October 2015, 63–​79. High-​Level Independent Panel on Peace Operations (HIPPO), “Uniting Our Strengths for Peace: Politics, Partnership and People, Report,” 16 June 2015. Holt, Victoria K. and Alix J. Boucher, “Framing the Issue: UN Responses to Corruption and Criminal Networks in Post-​Conflict Settings,” International Peacekeeping, vol. 16, no. 1, 2009, 20–32. Karlsrud, John, “The UN at War: Examining the Consequences of Peace-​Enforcement Mandates for the UN Peacekeeping Operations in the CAR, the DRC and Mali,” Third World Quarterly, vol. 36, no. 1, 2015, 40–54. Kemp, Walter, Mark Shaw, and Arthur Boutellis, The Elephant in the Room: How Can Peace Operations Deal with Organized Crime? (New York: International Peace Institute, June 2013). Teran, Nika Stražišar, “Peacebuilding and Organized Crime: The Cases of Kosovo and Liberia,” swisspeace: Working Paper 1/​2007, Bern, 2007. UN General Assembly, A/​ 59/​ 565, “A More Secure World: Our Shared Responsibility, Report of the High-​level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change,” 2 December 2004. Vorrath, Judith, “From War to Illicit Economies: Organized Crime and State-​Building in Liberia and Sierra Leone,” SWP Research Paper 2014/​RP 13, www.swp-​ber​lin.org/​publ​ ikat​ion/​organi​zed-​crime-​in-​libe​r ia-​and-​sie​r ra-​leone. Williams, Paul D. with Alex J. Bellamy, Understanding Peacekeeping,Third Edition, (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2021). Williams, Phil, “Organized Crime and Corruption in Iraq,” International Peacekeeping, vol. 16, no. 1, 2009, 115–135. Williams, Phil, and John T. Picarelli, “Combating Organized Crime in Armed Conflict,” in Karen Ballentine and Heiko Nitzschke (eds), Profiting from Peace: Managing the Resource Dimensions of Civil War (Boulder and London: Lynne Rienner, 2005) 123–152.

PART II

Selected Case Studies

9 THE UN AND THE LOGIC OF CONGO’S POLITICAL ECONOMY Politics is Wealth, Wealth is Power Tatiana Carayannis and Michael J. Kavanagh

Introduction Over the past decade and a half, the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) has witnessed an extraordinary number of attempts by regional and international actors to resolve the largest conflict that Africa has seen since independence. The conflict, however, persists, at an enormous cost. The most that these attempts have achieved are several partially respected ceasefire agreements. They have failed to end the violence or to re-​establish central government authority throughout the DRC, as foreign and domestic armed groups continue to operate in eastern Congo, at times preying on communities, other times socially embedded in them, oftentimes both. This chapter analyses the United Nations’ (UN’s) engagement with the DRC’s political economy over the duration of the post-​1999 UN mission in Congo. It argues that Congo’s political economy needs to be understood in the context of transnational regional economies and the global economy. In Congo, there is ample evidence that multinational corporations, businesses linked to foreign governments, international corporations, offshore financial centres and global markets are complicit in perpetuating war economies, frequently being key nodes in networks that supply goods and services and providing market outlets to warring government authorities, rebels and warlords. Without them, belligerents would otherwise have neither the capital to finance a war nor the profit incentive to sustain one.1 The conflict in Congo over the last two decades is best understood as several interlocking wars: while the Congo wars trace their roots to the Rwanda genocide of 1994, the first Congo war began in September 1996 as an invasion by a coalition of neighbouring states of what was then Zaire, and resulted in replacing President Mobutu with Laurent-​Désiré Kabila in May 1997. The second Congo war broke out in August 1998 when a similar configuration of neighbouring states, DOI: 10.4324/9781003248637-11

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some of whom had been Kabila’s patrons in the first war, broke with him and attempted to remove Kabila as they had done with Mobutu, but without their earlier success. It ended with the signing of the Lusaka Ceasefire Agreement in July 1999 by the Kabila government and the two principal rebel groups fighting it (the Mouvement de Libération du Congo (MLC) and the Rassemblement Congolais pour la Démocratie (RCD)), the result of a stalemate in the war and considerable external pressure. In both the first and second wars, neighbouring states established local proxy movements in an attempt to put a local stamp on their military and economic activities. However, the bulk of Kabila’s Alliance des forces démocratiques pour la libération du Congo (AFDL) fighting forces in the first war were foreign (mostly Rwandan). During the second war, the MLC rebel group fighting Kabila consisted largely of Congolese trained by Ugandan officers, while the Rwandan-​ backed rebel group, the RCD, was largely integrated with Rwandan troops and commanders. Rwanda and Uganda used these proxies and their own soldiers to plunder eastern and northeastern Congo all the way to Kisangani. Their economic and security interests in the region continue to this day, and continue to generate violence. Meanwhile, Congo’s government under Laurent-​Désiré and then Joseph Kabila embarked on its own kind of plunder of Congo’s natural resources, in particular (but not limited to) the copper and cobalt mines of Katanga. Billions of dollars were diverted from state coffers. Some of the funds were used to prop up the regime, while some were used for personal enrichment of the president and his cronies. Over the past two decades, the eastern conflict has raged on, with more people displaced as of 2022 than at any other time in the nation’s history; the government held three presidential elections, each less legitimate than the last; and the population remains among the poorest in the world. The chapter concludes that the UN in Congo could have done better to understand and address the economic and financial forces that shaped –​and continue to shape –​Congo’s politics and conflicts. The UN peacekeeping mission in its various configurations over the last two decades could have better implemented its mandate had it monitored and reported on economic crimes and corruption just as it has with crimes of violence and human rights abuse. This monitoring could help curb the ways in which economic forces and corruption contribute to conflict, undermine democracy, and lead to human rights abuses.

The End of Mobutu’s Kleptocratic State Economy and the Rise of the War Economy (1990–​1997) Mobutu’s political regime has been framed as a paradigmatic case of kleptocracy, patrimonial rule and the so-​called “politics of the belly”.2 It was built around the trade of rents for political loyalty, thus transforming economic assets into a stock of political resources, with a patronage network as a redistribution structure. As Tull argues,

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the political perseverance of the Mobutu system of rule found its basis in the intricate networks of redistribution, linking the highest echelons of state hierarchy vertically with local power holders. (...) These networks were usually underfed by offering opportunities and means to access resources, rather than resources as such.3 The provision of stability to a ruling class, combined with a constant process of elite recycling and foreign support, prevented the development of a counter-​ force and undergirded regime stability. Yet, Mobutu’s patrimonialism also paved the way for officially “sanctioned” private accumulation, which, in turn, paved the way for the gradual fragmentation of central public authority and emergence of decentralised networks centred around key resources including diamonds, gold and transborder trade.4 State institutions were forced to constantly negotiate and compete with alternative instances of authority and economic production to safeguard their interests and control. “While the state depended upon those wielding power in ‘informal’ networks of social and economic control, the same networks depended on the state to consolidate their own mechanisms of control and distribution”.5 During the 32-​year reign (1965–​1997) of former president Mobutu, he and the shifting members of his inner circle reduced politics to a search for resources.6 This inner circle tried to institute full control over the self-​created political marketplace, or “a system of governance run on the basis of personal transactions in which political services and allegiances are exchanged for material reward in a competitive manner”.7 Yet, with the dwindling of income to the political centre (itself the result of economic mismanagement), the ruling network was increasingly contested by individual members, who tried to reduce their dependence on the political centre through the control of informal and lucrative trading activities. The gradual informalisation of the economic basis of patronage eventually led to a steady political disintegration and total collapse.8 But even if the Zairian regime was on the brink of collapse, it was not internal dynamics but the refugee crisis in Zaire caused by the Burundian civil war in 1993 and the Rwandan genocide in 1994 that triggered the final breakdown.When new rounds of mass violence started to spread in the Kivu provinces and the Mobutu regime showed no commitment to dealing with security threats coming from the refugee camps, a regional coalition, led by Rwanda and Uganda but involving several other countries in the region, started a military campaign to put an end to these security threats coming from eastern Zaire. It was the final blow to Mobutu’s regime, which had no effective way of countering this campaign and preventing its march to Kinshasa, bringing the long-​time rebel leader Laurent-​Désiré Kabila to power in May 1997. From the start, business was just as much a part of the war’s logic as security and politics. Even before the AFDL invasion, Laurent-​Désiré Kabila and his Rwandan and Ugandan backers began raising funds for the rebellion and, in some cases, for themselves. Laurent-​Désiré Kabila managed a business called Compagnie Mixte d’Import-​Export, or Comiex, which dealt in the cross-​border gold and coffee trade.9 Its accounts were in Kigali, and the brother of Ugandan president Yoweri

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Museveni was said to be among those with interests in the firm.10 After the invasion began, Comiex quickly expanded its investments into other parts of eastern Zaire’s economy, including banking and mining. Once the AFDL took Goma and Lubumbashi, representatives of private companies from around the world flew in to meet Kabila. The rebel leader essentially set up a market for “booty futures”, to use Michael Ross’s terminology, by signing multiple contracts for assets that the AFDL did not even control yet.11 In April 1997, one month before Kabila entered Kinshasa, an Arkansas-​based firm known as American Mineral Fields transferred millions of dollars to the AFDL and offered the rebel leader temporary use of a private jet in exchange for the rights to billions of dollars’ worth of minerals –​zinc at Kipushi and copper and cobalt tailings in Kolwezi.12 A few days later, Canada-​registered Tenke Mining Corp. provided $50 million to the rebellion for a promise to mine the massive Tenke Fungurume copper-​cobalt concession. Half of that money ended up in Comiex’s bank account.13 Foreign companies were not the only ones placing bets on Kabila’s victory: the state-​owned diamond company, Miba, sent Comiex $3.5 million six weeks before Mobutu’s fall. Bank transfer records said the money was “for the war effort”.14 AFDL leaders openly said they expected to re-​negotiate these contracts once they took power, and they did.15 Many of the contracts were cancelled and then handed out again, with more money changing hands to benefit Kabila and his new government.16 Crucially, Kabila also began cancelling and cutting Rwanda and Uganda out of their previously agreed upon economic plans, like a $2 billion trade route eastward from Kisangani.17 Several of the companies that lost contracts went to court to fight Kabila’s government or the firms that had taken over their assets. Rwanda and Uganda went to war. The fallout between Kabila and his war patrons led to the Second Congo War in 1998. Once the violence resumed, the dominant narrative among international observers gradually shifted to a more direct focus on economic incentives guiding warring factions’ ambitions and strategies.The second war was seen as a direct invasion, aimed at consolidating control over Congo’s vast wealth of natural resources. The military fragmentation which soon followed the start of the war was understood as a direct consequence of a regional power and resource struggle between national armies and their proxy rebel movements, armed groups and business and politico-​military elites. When Kabila needed funding to repel the Rwandan and Ugandan attack, he repeated the same business arrangements he had used to fund the AFDL, except now he had access to all his resource-​r ich state had to offer. He created Comiex-​Congo, and turned it into a private trust “entirely created with state assets”, according to one of the company’s board members.18 He gave 0.3 per cent of the company to Sanjivan Ruprah, a Kenyan arms dealer of Indian ancestry.19 He partnered with Zimbabwe to mine diamonds and manage a massive timber concession.20 Comiex-​Congo held shares in banks and in a fuel distribution venture with Sonangol, the state-​owned oil company of Angola, which also helped Kabila with the war effort.21 The two

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countries signed a letter of intent to drill for oil off their shared coasts, a deal that would cost Congo dearly a decade later but enrich one of Joseph Kabila’s friends.22 Laurent-​Désiré Kabila made more unorthodox deals to attract money and allies. He reached out to a young Israeli named Dan Gertler, whose grandfather had founded Israel’s diamond exchange, for a contribution of $20 million, and the possibility of Israeli military aid (which did not seem to materialise). Soon after, Kabila repaid Gertler with a near-​monopoly on the country’s diamond sales.23 Kabila made Zimbabwean national Billy Rautenbach, a close associate of Robert Mugabe, head of Congo’s state-​owned Gecamines. He signed a deal for weapons with a Chinese state-​owned military contractor, China North Industries Corporation (NORINCO), and paid with a copper mine.24 He sold off part of Congo’s telecommunications spectrum to a group of Americans, one of whom was involved in Richard Nixon’s Watergate scandal.25 That company would eventually become Vodacom Congo, and the Kabilas took a small and secret stake in its shareholding via an offshore company on the Pacific isle of Niue.26

MONUC, Privatisation and the Transitional Economy (1997–​2006) The fall of the Mobutu regime set in motion a profound change in the functioning of patronage networks, which increasingly fragmented into relatively autonomous centres of competition. The collapse of the centre made room for the further emergence of local “big men” and alternative, transborder power networks. This fragmentation was particularly acute in eastern Congo, where, from 1996 onwards, power was largely exercised through three newly established politico-​ military power networks, some with links to Kinshasa and others to the Rwandan and Ugandan regimes. These power networks struggled bitterly for sovereignty over territory, people and resources.27 The result was the emergence of a militarised political economy, which was shaped by coercion, the military control of key sites of revenue generation, including production sites, marketplaces, border posts, and infrastructural nodes, forced monopolies, coercive resource extraction, price fixing, plunder and asset stripping.28 In November 1999, as part of the Lusaka Ceasefire Agreement that formally (but not in reality) ended the second war, the UN Security Council authorised the MONUC peacekeeping mission. At the time, three rival Congolese rebel groups –​ the MLC and the RCD (then split between two factions, RCD-​Goma and RCD-​ K/​ML) –​controlled two-​thirds of the DRC’s territory. Laurent-​Désiré Kabila’s government in Kinshasa controlled the remaining third. MONUC’s Chapter VII mandate was initially a “Chapter VI and a half ” mandate –​its enforcement capability was limited to the protection of its own personnel, that of humanitarian relief workers and some Congolese civilians. It was not authorised to disarm militias by force but rather through voluntary compliance. This first phase consisted of the initial UN deployment of a small observer mission in 1999 to support the implementation of the agreement.

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The UN recognised the centrality of business to the war, and in February 2000, it added a panel of experts for Congo “on the illegal exploitation of natural resources and other forms of wealth”, chaired by retired Egyptian Ambassador Mahmoud Kassem. This coincided with a huge spike in demand from the electronics industry for the mineral coltan, whose price hit all-​time highs between 2000 and 2002, peaking at more than five times its average price for the previous 35 years. (The price then immediately dropped back down to its long-​time average as new sources of the mineral were found in other countries.) During that time, the illicit trade in the rare and hitherto barely heard-​of mineral exploded, and coltan became emblematic of how Congo’s unique resource endowments fuelled the conflict. The 2001 Panel of Experts’ report outlined multiple multinational business networks profiting from the war. In its final report of October 2002, it expanded the notion of elite networks and distinguished three main ones: one controlled by the Kinshasa government and the others by either Uganda or Rwanda.29 The panel named 85 companies from 21 countries and territories who were breaking OECD Guidelines for Multinational Enterprises in Congo. The report recommended 54 individuals for travel bans and financial restrictions and 29 companies, including Comiex-​Congo, for financial restrictions. That would be the last time the UN published such an extensive list of allegations of corporate crime. There was significant blowback from those named in the report, many of whom denied their involvement in illicit activities.30 The UN –​and the international community at large –​found itself stuck in between the urgent need to restart Congo’s economy and the desire to discourage corruption and war profiteering. Intense oversight by the experts’ panel discouraged established foreign investors, which left an opening for adventurers with a high tolerance for risk if it meant the possibility of massive profits. That risk was never more apparent than in 2001, when Laurent-​Désiré Kabila was assassinated and replaced by his 29-​year old son, Joseph. Soon after, Congo’s army executed 11 Lebanese diamond dealers who were suspected of involvement in the killing, though this has never been proven definitively. Joseph Kabila was at first more conciliatory to the international community, and more amenable to a peace deal than his father. As he toured the world’s capitals, he also professed to be more open to western democracy and free-​market capitalism. His government passed a liberal mining code, shepherded by the World Bank in 2002, that was meant to encourage investors and break up Gecamines’ near-​ monopoly on Congo’s copper and cobalt. As the second war came to an end, the UN’s appetite diminished significantly for the corruption investigations done by the 2001–​2002 expert panels. The 2003 panel report was shorter and included few new direct accusations. In 2004, the “Panel of Experts on the illegal exploitation of natural resources and other forms of wealth” became the “Group of Experts on the Democratic Republic of Congo”, no longer explicitly tasked with investigating plunder nation-​wide.

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The group still looked at business as it related directly to conflict, violations of the UN’s arms embargo and human rights abuses. But its wide-​reaching mandate, which originally included monitoring everything from one-​man mineral-​trading companies to giant corporations like De Beers, was circumscribed. This meant less oversight of the big-​money deals signed by the government, and a purview increasingly focused on Congo’s east. These reports nonetheless became key sources of information about the different actors in the networks involved in Congo’s war economy and those political, military and business elites who took part in it, yet they stopped short of analysing how these networks operate, shift and adapt. The same reports also entailed a great deal of controversy, not only because of the detailed information about the illicit business deals of a number of well-​known multinationals, but also because of the empirical evidence supporting the personal involvement of prominent politicians and heads of state from neighbouring countries in the control over Congo’s resources, in particular Rwanda and Uganda.31 In June 2003, following a national dialogue and a series of regional agreements that led to the withdrawal of most foreign troops, the DRC swore in a Government of National Unity consisting of leaders representing almost every local actor in the wars. The next phase of MONUC coincided with this political transition, and by 2004, MONUC had grown into a substantial integrated mission with the mandate to support the Government of National Unity and the transition, and the complex and expensive national electoral process held in 2006. This support was complicated by the fact that the government and army were themselves committing some of the human rights abuses the UN was there to stop –​ a tension that has always haunted UN peace operations. The tension became even more acute after the 2006 election, when Joseph Kabila began to increasingly assert Congo’s sovereignty and used it as an argument to discourage oversight from the UN and other donors. Taboo topics included the government’s support for proxy rebels in the country’s east to combat Rwanda and Uganda. It included human rights abuses against politically inconvenient politico-​religious groups like Bundu Dia Kongo in the west. And it included Kabila’s business decisions and interests. The growing focus on Congo’s war economy and continued violence in the east following the second war also renewed international attention on the role of private military companies and criminal networks in conflict areas. Concepts including military entrepreneurship32 and elite networks33 were introduced to frame both the nature of armed struggle and the aims and strategies of belligerents and their supporters. It all reinforced the increasing belief that Congo was “cursed” by its riches, that greed was the main conflict motive and that armed groups were using revenues from the exploitation and trade of natural resources to finance their war efforts and to enrich themselves.34 For some, the rapacity or greed of armed actors for natural resource revenues was increasingly understood as a key factor in explaining the onset and persistence of armed conflict.35 Despite so much of the world’s attention on the Great Lakes region, however, these analyses –​while theoretically useful –​translated into little UN action.

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MONUSCO and the Transnational Extractive Economy (2006–​2011) After the historic 2006 election, the oversight provided during the transition by opposition political groups like the MLC and RCD-​G all but disappeared. One of the four vice presidents during the transition, Jean-​Pierre Bemba, was sent to The Hague for war crimes. Two others, Azarias Ruberwa and Abdoulaye Yerodia, were sidelined and left politics.36 The Committee in Support of the Transition in the DRC (CIAT) –​the international mechanism of Security Council members and Congo’s neighbours, chaired by MONUC Special Representative of the SecretaryGeneral (SRSG) William Swing and tasked with keeping the transition on track, held its last meeting two months after Kabila won the elections. And the newly elected president, with the former banker Augustin Katumba Mwanke by his side as his top adviser, expanded the privatisation of Congo’s assets for his personal and political gain. At first, many of Kabila’s economic decisions seemed promising. He began to repair the country’s relationship with the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank with the hope of relieving Congo’s enormous $12 billion debt. He sought alternative funding from China, which was still in the early years of what would become the Belt and Road Initiative. After the two countries signed a $9.2 billion minerals for infrastructure deal, Kabila acceded to the IMF’s demands that he reduce the deal’s debt exposure before The IMF would agree to a new loan programme. By 2008, Kabila secured a $550 million IMF loan, a $6.2 billion infrastructure deal from China and a path to debt relief. Immediately after the election, Kabila began a “revisitation” process to re-​ negotiate more than 60 mining contracts, often (but not always) resulting in the government or its state-​owned companies getting a better deal, at least on paper.37 The country began shipping significant amounts of copper and cobalt again –​by 2012 Congo produced more copper than Gecamines ever had, even at its 1980s peak. But beneath the surface, the administration was deeply corrupt. The China deal came with a $350 million signing bonus. A large portion of it went missing.38 China Railway Group, the main shareholder in the Chinese mining venture, brokered a secret toll road contract with a Kabila family company that covered the export route for all of Congo’s copper and cobalt and was worth tens of millions of dollars a year. In a business empire-​building process that had begun with Laurent-​Désiré Kabila’s Comiex in the 1990s, the Kabila family created dozens of companies involved in every industry in the country –​many with links to state functions or assets. They printed drivers’ licenses and passports; they sold real estate; they collected tolls; they raised beef cattle and grew legumes and shipped them to markets in Kinshasa; they made pagnes (wax print fabrics) for political parties, and uniforms for the FARDC; they ran a movie theatre in Lubumbashi.They owned airlines and fuel import companies and more than 80,000 hectares of farmland. They ran one bank and tried to start another with the distressed assets of a bank Kabila’s government had controversially shut down.

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All told, the family companies had more than 150 mining permits, and they were rarely paying the associated fees required by the mining code. Their diamond interests stretched for more than 450 miles along the border with Angola. Kabila family companies were paid consulting fees by foreign mining firms explicitly for their “connections”.39 Some family firms operated with tax exemptions, giving them a leg up on the competition and starving the government of much-​needed cash.40 Notably, very little of the Kabila’s business interests were in the Kivus, despite the family’s connection to South Kivu province, where Joseph Kabila and his twin sister Jaynet were born. The economy of the Kivus was marked by smuggling and informal trade between neighbouring countries and little industrial development. In other words, people made money in multiple smaller transactions instead of the giant, billion-​dollar deals common in the copper mining sector in Katanga. The one major industrial deal in eastern Congo during Kabila’s first mandate was for Haut-​Uélé’s Kibali gold project, which is now Africa’s biggest gold mine. When Randgold (now part of Barrick Gold Corp.) and AngloGold Ashanti bought the mine, part of the payment went to a company owned by the president’s brother, Zoe Kabila, that had been “consulting” on the deal.41 The withdrawal of most foreign troops in 2003 created a power vacuum in rebel-​held territories, and a third “war” began behind UN-​monitored ceasefire lines in northeastern Congo. This war was fought between ever smaller groups–​ foreign and domestic –​that have since become significant actors in the illicit activities in that region. The Mission’s third phase began in 2009, soon after the strategic eastern city of Goma was threatened by the Rwandan-​backed Congrès national pour la défense du peuple (CNDP) rebel group, despite the presence of UN peacekeepers. In keeping with its reinforced mandate, MONUC entered a more robust peacekeeping phase, focusing largely on the unfinished business of the stabilisation of eastern Congo. A series of joint military operations with the Congolese national armed forces against armed groups in the east yielded mixed results and came under heavy criticism for its failure to protect civilians. Most significantly, these operations, conducted with a national army known for human rights abuses, exposed the operational tensions in the mission’s multiple mandates called for in resolution 1856. In 2010, four years after Congo’s landmark post-​conflict national election in 2006, the UN mission in the Congo entered its fourth, and what some had expected to be its final phase, as the renamed MONUSCO (UN Stabilization Mission in the Congo). On 28 May 2010, the UN Security Council adopted resolution 1925, substantially reconfiguring the UN mission in the Congo and reframing the force as a stabilisation mission. Resolution 1925 authorised the withdrawal of up to 2,000 troops from the country, further concentrating the mission’s attention on civilian protection and military operations in the east, and established a reserve force which could react, in principle, to incidents throughout the country. The dynamics of the conflict in the east changed in 2009, when the head of the Rwandan-​backed CNDP rebel group, Laurent Nkunda, was brought to Kigali

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and placed under house arrest. His lieutenant, Bosco Ntaganda, cut a deal with the Congolese government to allow the CNDP rebels to integrate into the army in a process called brassage. At first the ex-​CNDP—​most of whom were Rwandaphone –​ refused to be re-​deployed around the country and remained in FARDC units in their eastern Congolese homelands. There they used their new-​found legal status to expand the army’s mining interests. The timing was ideal. Artisanal miners had recently identified the richest tin ore mine in Africa in Walikale territory of North Kivu. Simultaneously, the price of tin soared to historic highs, nearly tripling in value between the beginning of 2009 and March of 2011. The ex-​CNDP, in their new government army uniforms, were at the vanguard of the tin and coltan trade, which in large part transited through Rwanda. Thus, the key player in the so-​called “conflict mineral” trade became the army, the very institution that was supposed to stop it. This further complicated MONUSCO’s relationship with the FARDC, its partner in peacekeeping. The UN and MONUC had already recognised the problem and began exploring ways to break the ties between natural resource extraction and conflict in eastern Congo. In 2009, the Security Council mandated that the Group of Experts create “recommendations on due-​diligence guidelines for the purchase, sourcing, acquisition and processing of mineral products” from Congo.42 The Council told the Group to focus on North Kivu, South Kivu and Orientale provinces, where most of the violence was taking place. It also asked the group and member states to investigate the supply chains for gold, cassiterite, coltan and wolframite –​the minerals most often smuggled from eastern Congo. The directive did not mention cobalt or copper, the minerals that were by far most important for Congo’s national economy and for the Kabila administration, which was preparing for the 2011 election against the popular opposition leader, Etienne Tshisekedi. This omission, which has been repeated in most policymaking around conflict minerals, represented a narrow-​minded understanding of the conflict in Congo and ignored the totality of the role that natural resources played in the country’s political development. The link between Congo’s conflict and the multi-​billion-​dollar copper and cobalt industry may have been indirect, but there is a straight line between the theft of those riches and the catastrophic elections of 2011 and 2018, which were in large part funded through money from the copper and cobalt industry –​both licitly and illicitly. The response to the conflict-​mineral trade was chaotic and uncoordinated. A tin industry group began setting up a tag-​and-​trace monitoring system of limited value. The United States passed a “conflict minerals” law in 2010, which required US-​traded companies to declare –​without sanction –​whether or not the gold, wolframite, cassiterite or coltan in their products were “DRC conflict free”. (It went into effect in 2014.) In late 2010, out of the blue, President Kabila declared a moratorium on the artisanal mineral trade in eastern Congo to break up what he called the “mafia groups” controlling the trade. This served to devastate artisanal mining communities but did little to stem the power of the ex-​CNDP and others involved in the trade. The Group of Experts regularly identified FARDC officers

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who smuggled minerals and other resources including the head of Congo’s land forces, Maj. General Gabriel Amisi. Amisi profited not only from gold and tin ore, but also from non-​mineral activities like poaching.43 In the context of this military capture of eastern Congo’s mining industry, which provides livelihoods to hundreds of thousands of civilians, the UN hatched a plan to formalise the sector by building five centres de négoces (mineral trading centres) in the Kivus. Donors and UN agencies would help build the centres and train the mining police, while the Congolese government and the UN would identify “green” mining sites that could supply conflict-​free minerals. In theory, minerals would flow through the centres, which would be bagged and traced and be sent out for processing. In reality, the centres had major problems from the start. There were construction difficulties, a lack of government buy-​in and fundamental legal problems with the different permits required for artisanal mining and industrial mining. Regular violence and a general lack of government resources and political will made it difficult to get mines certified. The unpredictable nature of mining –​due to price volatility, the unsustainable nature of mineral deposits and the constant discovery of new ones –​meant that the centres de négoces were not always in ideal locations. Transporting minerals over a long distance was a dangerous project, and the supply chain was easily contaminated by minerals from uncertified mines.44 And while the project may have met some success if MONUSCO had been employed full-​time to monitor eastern Congo’s mineral trade, as the Group of Experts said in 2011, “it is not feasible for the peacekeeping mission to provide permanent security at mines and along supply routes, given limited resources and competing priorities, in particular the protection of civilians”.45 By 2014, the experts reported that donors had “moved away from the centre de négoce approach and are favouring the construction of sales points closer to mines to facilitate transactions between miners and traders in a bid to minimize fraud”.46 The UN’s involvement in monitoring the eastern resource trade did have some positive impact. The Group of Experts’ 2010 guidelines for investing in Congo’s artisanal minerals remain influential. The support for tracing and tagging and more due diligence has improved data collection and helped formalise the coltan, tin ore and tungsten ore artisanal supply chain. Tracing schemes are widespread for these minerals, even if they are imperfect. North Kivu’s first industrial mine in decades, at the Bisie tin deposit in Walikale, began exporting in 2019 amid a decrease in violence in the immediate vicinity. However, the guidelines have done little to eliminate gold as a driver of violence.47 Uganda and Rwanda remain the key outposts for Congo’s artisanal gold, which is almost entirely smuggled. In 2020, Congo officially shipped only $2.4 million worth of artisanal gold, while Rwanda and Uganda exported around $3 billion worth of gold together, despite having almost no gold mines themselves. The UN’s inability to find a way to hold those countries (and Burundi) accountable for their plunder of Congo’s resources has helped perpetuate the conflict. Soldiers from Uganda, Rwanda and Burundi continue to operate in eastern Congo

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under questionable motives. The Group of Experts continues to document that rebel groups mine gold with near-​impunity, while the Congolese army oversees numerous gold mines, sometimes on behalf of foreign companies from China and elsewhere. Almost all of Congo’s artisanal gold ends up in Dubai. Despite the importance of mineral smuggling in eastern Congo, recent court cases suggest that the main source of corrupt funding for Kabila and his government came from foreign mining firms expanding their investments in Congo’s copper and cobalt sector. An analysis by the Carter Center shows suspicious mining deals increased around the 2011 elections.48 A 2016 settlement between the US Department of Justice, the Securities and Exchange Commission, and the New York-​based hedge fund Och-​Ziff said Kabila and his adviser, Katumba Mwanke, received more than $13 million in bribes to secure mining concessions during a three-​month period in 2010 and 2011 alone. In total, Congolese government officials received more than $100 million in bribes between 2005 and 2015, the settlement alleged.49 Swiss court documents from 2021 show that the UK’s Serious Fraud Office suspects $379 million was allegedly paid in cash bribes between 2006 and 2011 to “people in senior positions” in Congo’s government.50 The judgement describes a network of Congo-​based companies laundering money by providing cash for bribes –​often through Katumba Mwanke –​and being compensated in Swiss bank accounts by the actual bribe payers, thereby evading government restrictions and taxes on international money transfers.

The Consolidation of Kabila’s Economic Power and UN Inaction (2011–​2018) A large number of these payments appear to have come through deals with Dan Gertler, though he denies it and has never been charged. Just as Gertler provided money to Laurent-​Désiré Kabila at a key moment in his fight against Rwanda and Uganda in 1997, his later deals provided Katumba Mwanke and Kabila with funds at key political moments, including in the lead-​up to the 2006, 2011 and 2018 elections. In return, he obtained some of Congo’s most prospective mining and oil assets, several of which he sold off for massive profits. In one deal, one of his companies paid $500,000 to buy state-​owned oil company Cohydro’s stake in the off-​shore venture with Angola’s Sonangol that Laurent-​Désiré Kabila had signed a memorandum of understanding for in 1997. A decade later, Cohydro paid Gertler $150 million to buy the stake back, using a loan from Sonangol to pay the fee, thereby further indebting Congo to Angola. In another deal, Congo cancelled the contract for the Kolwezi copper and cobalt tailings project –​the same one Kabila sold to American Mineral Fields in 1997 before taking it away and selling it on again –​just months before it was supposed to start production. Gertler ended up with that asset too, eventually flipping it to Eurasian Natural Resources Corp.

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Gertler also took over Gecamines’ shares and rights to royalty streams in a number of Congo’s most lucrative mining assets for hugely discounted prices.51 The US government decided the deals likely involved kickbacks and, in 2017, it sanctioned Gertler to pressure Kabila to step down after the president tried to stay in power beyond his final five-​year mandate, which was supposed to end in December 2016. According to the US, Gertler had been involved in “hundreds of millions of dollars’ worth of opaque and corrupt mining and oil deals” in Congo and was working “for or on behalf of Kabila, helping Kabila organize offshore leasing companies”.52 Congo’s losses from Gertler’s deals went well beyond the money lost from the deals themselves. For a time, the World Bank’s International Finance Corp. (IFC) stopped investing in Congo and the Bank stopped providing political risk insurance for companies investing in the country after the government expropriated the Kolwezi tailings and flipped it to Gertler. (The IFC was a shareholder in the tailings project.) In 2012, the IMF cancelled the remaining $225 million on its 3-​year loan deal with Congo when the government refused to divulge a contract for a mining deal involving Gecamines, Gertler and at least one Kabila family member. In 2020, Congo was slapped with a $619 million arbitration award given to one of the oil companies that Gertler supplanted when he won the rights to oil blocks on Lake Albert along Uganda’s border in 2010. In summary, the country is set to lose at least $3.7 billion from Gertler’s mining deals, most of which were hatched with Gecamines and its former chairman, Albert Yuma, according to Congo N’est Pas à Vendre, a coalition of anti-​corruption non-​ governmental organisations (NGOs).53 And even when Gertler did pay Gecamines, some of it seems to have disappeared. In a 2017 report on the privatisation of Gecamines, the Carter Center found that at least $736.5 million in Gecamines revenue from all of its projects went missing between 2011 and 2014.54 Global Witness reported the same year that $1.3 billion in mining payments to Gecamines and various tax agencies between 2013 and 2015 could not be accounted for.55 In 2021, Belgian NGO Resource Matters used data from Gecamines, Congo’s inspector general and a leak from a bank previously owned in part by the Kabila family to calculate that between 2012 and 2018 Gecamines paid $592 million in loans and “tax advances” to accounts nominally run by the central bank, half of which were made during the 2017–​2018 “glissement” period, when Kabila was trying to hold on to power beyond his constitutional mandate.56 Technically tax advances should end up in the general treasury, but the central bank could not account for $530 million of that money.57 This amount of missing money is significant for Congo. During Kabila’s 18 years in power, the government’s executed budget never surpassed $5 billion. And while it is difficult to identify fraud and corruption and bribery in real time –​particularly in a cash-​based economy like Congo’s, where many transactions are untraceable –​ the sheer scale of the theft should have made at least some of these transactions raise concerns about their effect on governance.

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But the UN raised no flags on any of these deals during Kabila’s years in power. There are no public reports or communiques or letters to or from the Security Council or the mission. Many of the transactions took place in the lead up to the 2011 elections or during the glissement period between 2016 and 2018. They stripped Congo of future income and helped Kabila amass a war chest that allowed him to pay enough of the bill for the 2011 elections that he was able to kick the UN out of the vote-​counting centres. The funds also allowed Congo to pay for the 2018 election entirely on its own, and when Kabila disregarded the results, there was little the UN could do, despite its mandate to support Congo’s democratic process. The UN has sanctioned dozens of people related to the conflict in Congo, but it never sanctioned any of the major sources of financing for Kabila, such as Dan Gertler, ex-​Gecamines chairman Albert Yuma or CENI officials like Corneille Nangaa, despite massive amounts of proof provided by NGOs, journalists and, in some cases, foreign law enforcement officials. The US has sanctioned in some way all of those people for their role in undermining Congo’s democracy, so the evidence is widely available. None of the evidence, however, is from UN sources, because MONUSCO did not have personnel covering financial crimes. Despite numerous requests by the Group of Experts, the UN has not sanctioned a single economic actor in Congo since 2007. UN peace operations themselves are also implicated in the political economies of conflict, both intentionally and unintentionally.58 In 2022, as MONUSCO begins to transition to a drawdown, attention turns to the impact a 25-​year-​old peace operation itself has had on Congo’s economy. While difficult to quantify direct impact, in a country as poor as Congo, a $1 billion/​year UN mission is a huge actor in Congo’s economy. Over its two decades, the UN built important infrastructure, rebuilt airports, built roads, opened waterways and employed thousands of Congolese. It also signed massive contracts for fuel, camps and imports, although often to foreign companies. Anecdotal evidence suggests that it also distorted real estate markets, as rents in Kinshasa and Goma skyrocketed with the influx of thousands of international UN, NGO and contract personnel. An internal review59 conducted by MONUSCO in 2018 estimated that the value of financial agreements from November 2015 to June 2019 was $65,563,719. It estimated the Mission’s “overall procurement value” at $189,675,288 across 952 contracts. The reconfiguration in 2013–​2014 under SRSG Kobler, when MONUSCO closed its field offices in western provinces in its “pivot to the east”, had a major impact on local economies. National staff in Equateur who were left unemployed and civil society demonstrated for weeks in front of mission offices in Mbandaka.60 Before that reconfiguration, MONUSCO’s annual expenditure on rents for facilities was $7,671,996.61 MONUSCO’s eventual drawdown will thus need to be carefully calibrated to minimise “fire sale” opportunities and otherwise contribute to the war economy.

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Conclusions and Lessons for Peace Operations Despite the predatory patterns of governance from Mobutu to Kabila, the Congo wars of the 1990s were not solely motivated by economic interests. It is thus not surprising that conflict mineral guidance, guidelines and regulations have not translated in a reduction of conflict in eastern DRC. As of 2023, there are more rebel groups and displaced people in eastern Congo than ever. The narrow focus on conflict minerals as a driver of violence has failed and has ignored the persistent and internationally networked dimensions of the conflict. War networks are political projects.62 They are used to assert new claims on resources and political authority. They are both the locus of the activity of contentious politics and the means with which to bring about political change; and while there may be different types of networks, even economic trade networks can have a political purpose.63 Approaches that understand the Congo wars solely as greed or grievance will continue to fail.Weak and predatory governance systems in Congo have raised long-​standing grievances while opening opportunities for greed, both domestically and regionally. Thus, while the Congo wars at their root are not about plunder, peace efforts that ignore or only superficially address financial transactions will fail –​as will limiting analysis of economic interests to national borders. There are many reasons that explain the UN’s relative ineffectiveness in addressing the transnational political economy of violence in the DRC –​we will limit ourselves to two overarching ones. The first has to do with the role of the “First UN”, or the UN of member states.64 It is evident from over two consecutive decades of engagement with the DRC that there are ample tools for addressing transregional war economies: panels and groups of experts and other UN investigative mechanisms; UN peace operations, mapping reports, sanctions and regional mechanisms. Many of the economic transparency initiatives we have at our disposal have only been developed in the last 20 years. The Kimberley Process, the Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative, the Know-​ Your-​ Customer and Publish-​What-​You-​Pay initiatives and various mineral tracing schemes have all contributed to the fight against corruption. So have sanctions regimes, particularly from the US Treasury, whose Anti-​Money Laundering and Countering Terrorist Financing requirements for banks have become useful tools to identify and curb corrupt transactions. It is thus not the lack of available tools or even a lack of awareness of the extent of the illicit networks, but rather the national interests of major regional and global powers that blocked action on the evidence.The conflict in eastern DRC immediately implicates Rwanda, Burundi, Uganda and also Kenya, India, China, Tanzania, Dubai and Europe. All of Congo’s neighbours have economic interests in the country, particularly Zambia, Zimbabwe, Angola and Tanzania. Foreign investment has come from everywhere, including the US, China, Canada, Europe, South Africa, and most recently the United Arab Emirates. The backlash from governments that followed the reports of the various expert groups underscored these interests and

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made it clear that further international action would be difficult if not impossible. So, while UN pressure could have been more forceful about corruption involving companies from member states and their implication in the conflict, UN leadership decided this was just too sensitive and was unwilling, as we saw with the 2010 Mapping Report of atrocities that also implicated Congo’s neighbours, to take the heat or risk further destabilising regional relations. Despite the pressure of key international actors, there are steps that UN peace operations can take to address illicit economic activities that sustain violent conflicts. Thus, the second reason for failure has to do with the role of the “Second UN” itself –​the UN Secretariat and MONUC/​MONUSCO. Actors competing for local authority are embedded in networks that include national elites and regional elites. MONUC/​MONUSCO and its partners largely ignored the prevailing logic of the marketplace and the transnational nature of illicit economy. It failed to recognise that one cannot simply build the state locally in isolation of national dynamics, and without understanding how local actors relate to national and regional political, security and economic dynamics. When MONUSCO became more forceful in 2013 through the integration of the intervention brigade, it drew up a list of Congolese army officers with whom it refused to work. These individuals, like General Amisi, were considered human rights abusers. They were not allowed on UN transport and were not allowed to conduct operations alongside UN peacekeepers despite their high place in the FARDC hierarchy. Some of these men were publicly sanctioned by the UN. If the UN can sanction and refuse to work with human rights abusers, it would seem possible that it could sanction corrupt actors as well. In the case of human rights abusers, it does not rely on court cases, just on its own investigative ability. The same process could be followed for corrupt actors, if UN missions choose to spend resources in that way. In the case of Congo, MONUSCO did not. The UN and the peacekeeping mission recognised the centrality of money and corruption at the beginning of the Congolese conflict. It then reduced its interest in the role that money played in the politics of Congo, the region, and the global economy at large, despite having a mandate to monitor illicit activities and support the country’s transition to democracy. The narrow-​mindedness of the approach to political economy ignored the continued international dimensions of the conflict. Its narrow focus on the illicit trade in natural resources in eastern Congo failed to consider the broader political and economic factors that perpetuated the conflict: most importantly the interests of Rwanda, Uganda and the Kabila administration, all of whom plundered Congo in different ways. These governments partnered with international actors and other foreign governments to extract Congo’s resources, undermining the country’s budget, elections and its future. After the 2006 transitional election, the UN turned its gaze away from Katanga and the national economy –​now seen as the sovereign responsibility of the central

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government –​and towards the east, where the war raged. This became a missed opportunity to intervene in the economy, and therefore in development and peace. The Mission failed to address how the corruption in the mines –​but also everywhere else in the government –​undermined democracy and led to continued conflict and human rights abuse. This approach ignored that the Congolese government –​a main actor in the conflict –​also needed funding and much of it came from outside of Congo. This external funding and Kabila’s growing control of mining revenues in Katanga between 2011 and 2018 allowed him to consolidate his power, rig the 2011 election and withstand pressure to step down and hold elections in 2016 –​the glissement –​ to 2018. And despite spending hundreds of millions of dollars to hold the 2006 elections, the UN failed to recognise their economic impact: Congo’s elections are a business, one of the biggest lines in the country’s budget. While MONUSCO’s mandate included analysis of the war economy, the mission itself never built an internal capacity for political economy analysis. It left this to the expert panel and subsequent Groups of Experts. Observers would often remark that the MONUSCO Political Affairs team could name the leaders of dozens of armed groups, some with less than a few dozen members, yet almost no one knew the shareholding of Tenke Fungurume Mining or Kolwezi tailings, two of the most important copper and cobalt projects in the world and some of the biggest sources of government income. In addition, the UN left the broader economic mandate to international financial institutions (IFIs) like the IMF and the World Bank. The problem, of course, is that the IFIs do not have same democratic or human rights mandate, and in turn left that to the UN. They pushed for privatisation as a way to raise money for development, and instead it went to fund an undemocratic, murderous regime. So, the relationship between transnational economic and financial networks, corruption and war was never comprehensively tackled. And neither the UN nor the IFIs have ever held key actors in the conflict accountable for economic crimes. That said, the tragic murder of two members of the Group of Experts –​Michael Sharp of the US (the Group’s coordinator) and Zaida Catalan of Sweden –​in Kasai Central province in the DRC in March 201765 raises the question whether the UN has the tolerance for the kind of risk involved in effectively tracking violence-​ producing networks that contain criminal and/​ or violent extremist elements within them. The scaling back of the Panel of Experts after the political pushback against its initial, ambitious report is an example of the tendency towards risk aversion –​whether by the Security Council or by the UN Secretariat. While there are a number of mechanisms at the UN’s disposal for analysing the political economy of conflict, the ability of those involved in these transactions to chill investigations whether politically at UN Headquarters, or through continued violence on the ground, is a major impediment to the effectiveness of these mechanisms.

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Notes 1 Tatiana Carayannis, “Webs of War in the Congo: The Politics of Hybrid Wars, Conflict Networks, and Multilateral Responses, 1996-​2006”, PhD dissertation, 2017. 2 M. Crawford Young, Politics in the Congo: Decolonization and Independence (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1965); Crawford Young and Thomas Turner, The Rise and Decline of the Zairian State (Madison, WI: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1985). 3 Denis Tull, The Reconfiguration of Political Order in Africa: A Case Study of North Kivu (DR Congo) (Hamburg: Institut für Afrika-​Kunde, 2005): 277. 4 William S. K. Reno, “Mines, Money, and the Problem of State-​Building in Congo”, Issue: A Journal of Opinion 26, no. 1 (1998): 14–​17. 5 Koen Vlassenroot and Timothy Raemaekers,“The Politics of Rebellion and Intervention in Ituri: The Emergence of a New Political Complex?”, African Affairs 103, no. 412 (July 2004): 385–​412. 6 Kasper Hoffman, Koen Vlassenroot, Tatiana Carayannis, and Godefroid Muzalia, “Violent Conflict and Ethnicity in the Congo: Beyond Materialism, Primordialism and Symbolism”, Journal of Conflict, Security and Development 20, no. 5 (2020): 539–​560, doi: 10.1080/​14678802.2020.1840789 7 Alex de Waal, “Introduction to the Political Marketplace for Policymakers”, JSRP Policy Brief 1, (2016), World Peace Foundation. www.lse.ac.uk/​inter​nati​onal​Deve​lopm​ent/​resea​ rch/​JSRP/​downlo​ads/​JSRPBr​ief-​1.pdf 8 Janet MacGaffey and Rémy Bazenguissa-​Ganga, Congo-​Paris: Transnational Traders on the Margins of the Law (Bloomington, IL: Indiana University Press, 2000). 9 William S. K. Reno, “Sovereignty and Personal Rule in Zaire”, African Studies Quarterly 1, no. 3 (1997): 39–​64. 10 Africa Confidential, “Kabila’s Banker”, Africa Confidential 38, no. 24 (December 5, 1997), www.afr​ica-​confi​dent​ial.com/​arti​cle-​prev​iew/​id/​5431/​Kab​ila%27s​_​ban​ker; Jason K. Stearns, Dancing in the Glory of Monsters: The Collapse of the Congo and the Great War of Africa (New York, NY: Public Affairs, 2011); International Crisis Group (ICG), “How Kabila Lost His Way: The Performance of Laurent Désiré Kabila’s Government,” Africa Report no. 3, May 21 (Brussels: International Crisis Group, 1999). 11 Michael L. Ross, “Booty Futures”, working paper, May 6, 2005, www.ssc​net.ucla.edu/​ poli​sci/​facu​lty/​ross/​pap​ers/​work​ing/​booty​futu​res.pdf 12 Tailings are mining waste that can be reprocessed with new technology to extract more minerals.The Kolwezi tailings still contained billions of dollars’ worth of copper and cobalt. 13 Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), Assemblée nationale commission spéciale chargée de l’examen de la validité des conventions à caractère economique et financier conclues pendant les guerres de 1996-​1997 et de 1998. Rapport des travaux, by Christophe Lutundula, Part 1, December, Kinshasa: Democratic Republic of Congo, 2005. 14 DRC, “Rapport des travaux”. 15 James C. McKinley, Jr. “Zairian Rebels’ New Allies: Men Armed with Briefcases”, New York Times, April 17, 1997. www.nyti​mes.com/​1997/​04/​17/​world/​zair​ian-​reb​els-​ new-​all​ies-​men-​armed-​with-​bri​efca​ses.html 16 ICG, “How Kabila Lost His Way”. 17 ICG, “How Kabila Lost His Way”. 18 Stearns, Dancing in the Glory of Monsters. 19 DRC, “Rapport des travaux”. 20 Pierre Englebert, “Why Congo Persists: Sovereignty, Globalization and the Violent Reproduction of a Weak State”, QEH Working Paper 95 (Oxford: Queen Elizabeth House, 2003).

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21 DRC, “Rapport des travaux”. 22 UN Panel of Experts, 2001. 23 UN Panel of Experts, 2001; Michael J. Kavanagh, Franz Wild, and Jonathan Ferziger, “Gertler Earns Billions as Mine Deals Leave Congo Poorest”, Bloomberg Markets, December 5, 2012, www.bloomb​erg.com/​news/​artic​les/​2012-​12-​05/​gert​ler-​earns-​billi​ ons-​as-​mine-​deals-​leave-​congo-​poor​est 24 UN Panel of Experts, 2001. 25 See, for example, Democratic Republic of Congo Journal Officiel, No. 5-​ II, March 1, 2008: col. 96. 26 Congo Research Group and Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting, “All the President’s Wealth: The Kabila Family Business”, report, July, (New York, NY: Congo Research Group, 2017), https://​allth​ewea​lth.con​gore​sear​chgr​oup.org/​dist/​ass​ets/​all-​the-​pre​side​ nts-​wea​lth-​ENG.pdf 27 Ingrid Samset, “Conflict of Interests or Interests in Conflict? Diamonds & War in the DRC”, Review of African Political Economy 29, no. 93-​94 (2002): 463-​480; Philippe Le Billon, 2008. “Diamond Wars? Conflict Diamonds and Geographies of Resource Wars.” Annals of the Association of American Geographers, 98(2), pp. 345–​372. www.tand​fonl​ine. com/​doi/​abs/​10.1080/​000456​0080​1922​422 28 UN Panel and Group of Experts, 2002, 2003, 2004. 29 UN Panel of Experts, 2002. 30 According to authors’ interviews in 2022 with four people previously involved with the panel and group of experts. 31 J. Cuvelier, K. Vlassenroot and N. Olin. 2014, “Resources, Conflict and Governance: A Critical Review”. Extractive Industries and Society 1(2), 340–​350. 32 Sandrine Perrot, “Entrepreneurs de l’insécurité: La face cachée de l’armée ougandaise”, Politique africaine 3, no. 75 (1999): 60–​71; Sandrine Perrot & Koen Vlassenroot, “Ugandan Military Entrepreneurialism on the Congo Border,” in Mats Utas (ed.), African Conflicts and Informal Power: Big Men and Networks, 35–​59. 33 UN Panel of Experts, 2002. 34 Cuvelier et al, 2014; Ann Laudati,“Beyond Minerals: Broadening ‘Economies of Violence’ in Eastern Democratic Republic of Congo”, Review of African Political Economy 40, no. 135 (2013): 32–​50; Taka Miho, 2010. Coltan mining and the conflict in the eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). “New Perspective on Human Security”, ed. Adrian Hodges, Malcom & McIntosh, Alan Hunter; Dani W. Nabudere, “Traditional and Modern Political Systems in Contemporary Governance in Africa”, Journal of African Elections 3, no. 2 (2004): 13–​41; Dena Montague, “Stolen Goods: Coltan and Conflict in the Democratic Republic of Congo”, SAIS Review 22, no. 1 (Winter-​Spring 2002): 103–​ 118; Samset, “Conflict of Interests”. 35 Mats Berdal and David M. Malone (eds.), Greed and Grievance: Economic Agendas in Civil Wars, (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2000); Paul Collier and Anke Hoeffler, “Resource Rents, Governance, and Conflict”, Journal of Conflict Resolution 49, no. 4 (August 2005): 625–​633. 36 Bemba was eventually acquitted. See Tatiana Carayannis, “Making Justice Work: The Bemba Case and the ICC’s Future”, Foreign Affairs, April 5, 2016, www.for​eign​affa​irs. com/​artic​les/​cent​ral-​afri​can-​repub​lic/​2016-​04-​05/​mak​ing-​just​ice-​work 37 The Carter Center. “A State Affair: Privatizing Congo’s Copper Sector”. November 2017 www.carte​rcen​ter.org/​resour​ces/​pdfs/​news/​pea​ce_​p​ubli​cati​ons/​democr​acy/​ congo-​rep​ort-​car​ter-​cen​ter-​nov-​2017.pdf 38 République Démocratique du Congo Parlement Commission Économico-​Financière (ECOFIN), Bahati Lukwebo Modeste, Chairman. November 15, 2009.

194  Tatiana Carayannis and Michael J. Kavanagh

39 Congo Research Group and Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting, “All the President’s Wealth”. 40 Congo Research Group, “Les exonérations douanières en RDC: Qui gagne ce que perd le Trésor public?”, report, January (New York: Congo Research Group, 2022). www.con​gore​sear​chgr​oup.org/​wp-​cont​ent/​uplo​ads/​2022/​01/​rapp​ort-​gec-​exone​rati​ ons-​dou​anie​res-​rdc-​qui-​gagne-​ce-​que-​perd-​tre​sor-​pub​lic.pdf 41 Congo Research Group and Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting, “All the President’s Wealth”, 25. 42 United Nations Security Council (UNSC),“Resolution 1896,” S/​RES/​1896, November 30, 2009. www.un.org/​secu​r ity​coun​cil/​s/​res/​1896-​%282​009%29 43 UNSC, “Final Report of the Group of Experts on the DRC Submitted in Accordance with Paragraph 4 of Security Council Resolution 2021 (2011)”, report S/​2012/​843, November 15, 2012. www.und​ocs.org/​S/​2012/​843 44 United Nations Development Program (UNDP), “Fond de consolidation de la paix/​ peacebuilding fund-​programme conjoint rapport descriptif final du projet ‘Creation des centres de négoce à l’est de la République démocratique du Congo,” March 25, 2010. https://​mptf.undp.org/​docum​ent/​downl​oad/​3037 45 UNSC, “Final Report of the Group of Experts on the DRC Submitted in Accordance with Paragraph 5 of Security Council Resolution 1952 (2010)”, report S/​2011/​738, December 2, 2011. www.und​ocs.org/​S/​2011/​738 46 UNSC, “Final Report of the Group of Experts Submitted in Accordance with Paragraph 5 of Security Council Resolution 2018 (2012)”, report S/​2014/​42, January 23, 2014. www.und​ocs.org/​S/​2014/​42 47 UN Group of Experts, 2020–​21. 48 Carter Center, 2017. 49 United States District Court Eastern District of New York, United States of America v. Och-​ Ziff Capital Management Group LLC, Deferred Prosecution Agreement, September 19, 2016. In Attachment A Statement of Facts: A-​7, it states: In or about and between 2005 and 2015, DRC Partner, together with others, paid more than one-​hundred million US dollars in bribes to DRC officials to obtain special access to and preferential prices for opportunities in the government-​ controlled mining sector in the DRC. 50 A. LTD v. Ministère Public du Canton de Genève RR.2020.242 at the Cour des Plaintes of the Tribunale Penale Fédérale, March 30, 2021. 51 Africa Progress Panel, “Equity in Extractives: Stewarding Africa’s Natural Resources for All”, Africa Progress Report, (Geneva: Africa Progress Panel, 2013); U.S. Department of the Treasury, “United States Sanctions Human Rights Abusers and Corrupt Actors Across the Globe,” press release, December 21, 2017. https://​home.treas​ury.gov/​news/​ press-​relea​ses/​sm0​243 52 U.S. Department of the Treasury, “United States Sanctions”. 53 Le Congo n’est pas à vendre,“Des milliards perdus: enquête financière sur les transactions de Dan Gertler dans le secteur extractif ”, report, May 12, 2021. www.corrup​tion​tue. org/​posts/​des-​milli​ard-​per​dus 54 Carter Center, 2017. 55 Global Witness, “$750 Million in Mining Revenues Fails to Reach Treasury in Democratic Republic of Congo”, press release, July 21, 2017. www.global​witn​ess.org/​ en/​press-​relea​ses/​750-​mill​ion-​min​ing-​reven​ues-​f ails-​reach-​treas​ury-​dem​ocra​tic-​repub​ lic-​congo/​

The UN and the Logic of Congo’s Political Economy  195

56 Resource Matters, “$530 millions portés disparus: sur les traces des avances fiscales de la Gécamines”, report, December (Brussels: Resource Matters, 2021), https://​reso​ urce​matt​ers.org/​wp-​cont​ent/​uplo​ads/​2021/​12/​Resou​rce-​Matt​ers-​530-​milli​ons-​ porte%CC%81s-​dispa​rus-​Dec-​2021-​Final.pdf 57 Resource Matters, “$530 millions”. 58 Michael Carnahan, Bill Durch, and Scott Gilmore, “Economic Impact of Peacekeeping”, final report, March (Ottawa, ON: Peace Dividend Trust, 2006). www.stim​son.org/​wp-​ cont​ent/​files/​file-​atta​chme​nts/​EIP_​FINA​L_​Re​port​_​Mar​ch20​06do​c_​1.pdf 59 United Nations, “Socio-​ Economic Footprint Assessment of the UN Peacekeeping Mission in DR Congo (MONUSCO)”, internal review, September 2018. 60 Mission de l’Organisation des Nation Unies pour la Stabilisation en RD Congo (MONUSCO), “Civil Society Organization in Mbandaka, DRC Organizes Protest March for MONUSCO’s Significant Presen [sic],” press release, May 23, 2014. https://​ monu​sco.unm​issi​ons.org/​node/​100043​489 61 MONUSCO, “Civil Society Organization”. 62 Carayannis, “Webs of War”, Chapter 1. 63 Carayannis, “Webs of War”, Chapter 1. 64 Tatiana Carayannis and Thomas G. Weiss, The Third United Nations: How Knowledge Brokers Help the UN Think (London: Oxford University Press, 2021). 65 United Nations Secretary-​General, “Statement of the Secretary-​General on the Death of Two Members of the Group of Experts on the Democratic Republic of the Congo”, 28 March 2017. www.un.org/​sg/​en/​cont​ent/​sg/​statem​ent/​2017-​03-​28/​statem​ent-​secret​ ary-​gene​ral-​death-​two-​memb​ers-​g roup-​expe​rts

Bibliography Africa Confidential, “Kabila’s Banker”, Africa Confidential, vol. 38, no. 24, 5 December 1997. www.afr​ica-​confi​dent​ial.com/​arti​cle-​prev​iew/​id/​5431/​Kab​ila%27s​_​ban​ker Africa Progress Panel, “Equity in Extractives: Stewarding Africa’s Natural Resources for All”, Africa Progress Report, Geneva: Africa Progress Panel, 2013. https://​stat​ic1.squa​resp​ace. com/​sta​tic/​5728c​7b18​259b​5e00​8768​9a6/​t/​57ab2​9519​de4b​b90f​53f9​fff/​147083​5029​ 000/​2013_​Afri​can+​Progr​ess+​Panel+​APR_​Equity_​in_​Extr​acti​ves_​2506​2013​_​ENG​_​ HR.pdf Berdal, Mats and David M. Malone (eds.), Greed and Grievance: Economic Agendas in Civil War (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2000). Carayannis, Tatiana, “Making Justice Work: The Bemba Case and the ICC’s Future”, Foreign Affairs, 5 April 2016. www.for​eign​affa​irs.com/​artic​les/​cent​ral-​afri​can-​repub​lic/​2016-​04-​ 05/​mak​ing-​just​ice-​work Carayannis, Tatiana, “Webs of War in the Congo: The Politics of Hybrid Wars, Conflict Networks, and Multilateral Responses, 1996-​2006”, PhD diss. The Graduate Center, The City University of New York, 2017. Carayannis, Tatiana and Thomas G. Weiss, The Third United Nations: How Knowledge Brokers Help the UN Think (London: Oxford University Press, 2021). Carnahan, Michael, Bill Durch, and Scott Gilmore, “Economic Impact of Peacekeeping”, Final Report, March 2006 (Ottawa, ON: Peace Dividend Trust, 2006). www.stim​son. org/​wp-​cont​ent/​files/​file-​atta​chme​nts/​EIP_​FINA​L_​Re​port​_​Mar​ch20​06do​c_​1.pdf Collier, Paul, and Anke Hoeffler, “Resource Rents, Governance, and Conflict”, Journal of Conflict Resolution vol. 49, no. 4, August 2005: 625–​633.

196  Tatiana Carayannis and Michael J. Kavanagh

Congo Research Group, “Les exonérations douanières en RDC: Qui gagne ce que perd le Trésor public?” Report, New York: Congo Research Group, January 2022. www.con​ gore​sear​chgr​oup.org/​wp-​cont​ent/​uplo​ads/​2022/​01/​rapp​ort-​gec-​exone​rati​ons-​dou​anie​ res-​rdc-​qui-​gagne-​ce-​que-​perd-​tre​sor-​pub​lic.pdf Congo Research Group and Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting, “All the President’s Wealth: The Kabila Family Business”, Report, New York: Congo Research Group, July 2017. https://​allth​ewea​lth.con​gore​sear​chgr​oup.org/​dist/​ass​ets/​all-​the-​pre​side​nts-​wea​ lth-​ENG.pdf Cuvelier, Jeroen, Vlassenroot, Koen, and Olin, Nathaniel, “Resources, Conflict and Governance:A Critical Review”, Extractive Industries and Society, vol. 1, no. 2, 2014: 340–​350. Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), Assemblée nationale commission spéciale chargée de l’examen de la validité des conventions à caractère economique et financier conclues pendant les guerres de 1996-​1997 et de 1998. Rapport des travaux, by Christophe Lutundula. Part 1, December, Kinshasa: Democratic Republic of Congo, 2005. Democratic Republic of Congo Journal Officiel. No. 5-​II. March 1, 2008. www.lse.ac.uk/​ideas/​Ass​ ets/​Docume​nts/​Confl​ict-​Resea​rch-​Progra​mme/​pol​icy-​repo​rts/​JSRP-​Brief-​1.pdf de Waal, Alex, “Introduction to the Political Marketplace for Policymakers”, JSRP Policy Brief 1, 2016, World Peace Foundation. www.lse.ac.uk/​inter​nati​onal​Deve​lopm​ent/​resea​ rch/​JSRP/​downlo​ads/​JSRPBr​ief-​1.pdf Englebert, Pierre, “Why Congo Persists: Sovereignty, Globalization and the Violent Reproduction of a Weak State”, QEH Working Paper 95, Oxford: Queen Elizabeth House, 2003. Global Witness, “$750 Million in Mining Revenues Fails to Reach Treasury in Democratic Republic of Congo”, Press release, 21 July 2017. www.global​witn​ess.org/​en/​press-​relea​ ses/​750-​mill​ion-​min​ing-​reven​ues-​fails-​reach-​treas​ury-​dem​ocra​tic-​repub​lic-​congo/​ Hoffman, Kasper, Koen Vlassenroot, Tatiana Carayannis, and Godefroid Muzalia, “Violent Conflict and Ethnicity in the Congo: Beyond Materialism, Primordialism and Symbolism”, Journal of Conflict, Security and Development, vol. 20, no. 5, 2020: 539–​560. International Crisis Group (ICG), “How Kabila Lost His Way: The Performance of Laurent Désiré Kabila’s Government”, Africa Report no. 3, 21 May 1999, Brussels: International Crisis Group. Kavanagh, Michael J., Franz Wild, and Jonathan Ferziger,“Gertler Earns Billions as Mine Deals Leave Congo Poorest”, Bloomberg Markets, 5 December 2012. www.bloomb​erg.com/​ news/​artic​les/​2012-​12-​05/​gert​ler-​earns-​billi​ons-​as-​mine-​deals-​leave-​congo-​poor​est Laudati, Ann, “Beyond Minerals: Broadening ‘Economies of Violence’ in Eastern Democratic Republic of Congo”, Review of African Political Economy, vol. 40, no. 135, 2013: 32–​50. Le Billon, Philippe, “Diamond Wars? Conflict Diamonds and Geographies of Resource Wars”, Annals of the Association of American Geographers, vol. 98, no. 2, 2008: 32–​50. www. tand​fonl​ine.com/​doi/​abs/​10.1080/​000456​0080​1922​422 Le Congo n’est pas à vendre. “Des milliards perdus: enquête financière sur les transactions de Dan Gertler dans le secteur extractif ”, Report, 12 May 2021. www.corrup​tion​tue.org/​ posts/​des-​milli​ard-​per​dus MacGaffey, Janet and Rémy Bazenguissa-​Ganga, Congo-​Paris: Transnational Traders on the Margins of the Law (Bloomington, IL: Indiana University Press, 2000). McKinley, James C., Jr., “Zairian Rebels’ New Allies: Men Armed with Briefcases”, New York Times, 17 April 1997. www.nyti​mes.com/​1997/​04/​17/​world/​zair​ian-​reb​els-​new-​all​ies-​ men-​armed-​with-​bri​efca​ses.html Miho,Taka, “Coltan Mining and the Conflict in the Eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC)”, in Adrian Hodges, Malcom McIntosh, and Alan Hunter, (eds.), New Perspective on Human Security (Austin: Greenleaf Publishing, 2010): 159–​173.

The UN and the Logic of Congo’s Political Economy  197

Mission de l’Organisation des Nation Unies pour la Stabilisation en RD Congo (MONUSCO). “Civil Society Organization in Mbandaka, DRC Organizes Protest March for MONUSCO’s Significant Presen [sic]”, Press release, May 23, 2014. https://​ monu​sco.unm​issi​ons.org/​node/​100043​489 Montague, Dena, “Stolen Goods: Coltan and Conflict in the Democratic Republic of Congo”, SAIS Review, vol. 22, no. 1, Winter-​Spring 2002: 103–​119. Nabudere, Dani W.,“Traditional and Modern Political Systems in Contemporary Governance in Africa”, Journal of African Elections, vol. 3, no. 2, 2004: 13–​41. Perrot, Sandrine, “Entrepreneurs de l’insécurité: La face cachée de l’armée ougandaise”, Politique africaine, vol. 3, no. 75, 1999: 60–​71. Perrot, Sandrine & Vlassenroot, Koen, “Ugandan Military Entrepreneurialism on the Congo Border”, in Mats Utas (ed.), African Conflicts and Informal Power: Big Men and Networks (London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2012): 35–​59. Reno, William S. K., “Mines, Money, and the Problem of State-​Building in Congo”, Issue: A Journal of Opinion, 26, no. 1, 1998: 14–​17. Reno, William S. K., “Sovereignty and Personal Rule in Zaire”, African Studies Quarterly, vol. 1, no. 3, 1997: 39–​64. Resource Matters, “$530 millions portés disparus: Sur les traces des avances fiscales de la Gécamines”, Report (Brussels: Resource Matters, 2021). https://​ reso​urce​matt​ers.org/​wp-​cont​ent/​uplo​ads/​2021/​12/​Resou​rce-​Matt​ers-​530-​milli​ons-​ porte%CC%81s-​dispa​rus-​Dec-​2021-​Final.pdf Ross, Michael L., “Booty Futures”, Working paper, May 6, 2005. www.ssc​net.ucla.edu/​poli​ sci/​facu​lty/​ross/​pap​ers/​work​ing/​booty​futu​res.pdf Samset, Ingrid,“Conflict of Interests or Interests in Conflict? Diamonds & War in the DRC”, Review of African Political Economy, vol. 29, no. 93–​94, 2002: 463–​480. Stearns, Jason K., Dancing in the Glory of Monsters: The Collapse of the Congo and the Great War of Africa (New York, NY: Public Affairs, 2011). The Carter Center, “A State Affair: Privatizing Congo’s Copper Sector”, November 2017. www.carte​rcen​ter.org/​resour​ces/​pdfs/​news/​pea​ce_​p​ubli​cati​ons/​democr​acy/​congo-​rep​ ort-​car​ter-​cen​ter-​nov-​2017.pdf Tull, Denis, The Reconfiguration of Political Order in Africa: A Case Study of North Kivu (DR Congo) (Hamburg: Institut für Afrika-​Kunde, 2005). United Nations, “Socio-​Economic Footprint Assessment of the UN Peacekeeping Mission in DR Congo (MONUSCO)”. Internal review, September 2018. United Nations Development Program (UNDP), “Fond de consolidation de la paix/​ peacebuilding fund-​programme conjoint rapport descriptif final du projet ‘Creation des centres de négoce à l’est de la République démocratique du Congo’”, March 25, 2010. https://​mptf.undp.org/​docum​ent/​downl​oad/​3037 United Nations Secretary-​General, “Statement of the Secretary-​General on the Death of Two Members of the Group of Experts on the Democratic Republic of the Congo”. March 28, 2017, www.un.org/​sg/​en/​cont​ent/​sg/​statem​ent/​2017-​03-​28/​statem​ent-​ secret​ary-​gene​ral-​death-​two-​memb​ers-​g roup-​expe​rts United Nations Security Council, “Final Report of the Group of Experts on the DRC Submitted in Accordance with Paragraph 4 of Security Council Resolution 2021 (2011)”, Report S/​2012/​843, November 15, 2012. www.und​ocs.org/​S/​2012/​843 United Nations Security Council, “Final Report of the Group of Experts on the DRC Submitted in Accordance with Paragraph 5 of Security Council Resolution 1952 (2010)”, Report S/​2011/​738, December 2, 2011, www.und​ocs.org/​S/​2011/​738 United Nations Security Council, “Final Report of the Group of Experts Submitted in Accordance with Paragraph 5 of Security Council Resolution 2018 (2012)”, Report S/​ 2014/​42, January 23, 2014. www.und​ocs.org/​S/​2014/​42

198  Tatiana Carayannis and Michael J. Kavanagh

United States Department of the Treasury, “United States Sanctions Human Rights Abusers and Corrupt Actors across the Globe”, Press release, December 21, 2017. https://​home. treas​ury.gov/​news/​press-​relea​ses/​sm0​243 Vlassenroot, Koen and Timothy Raemaekers, “The Politics of Rebellion and Intervention in Ituri: The Emergence of a New Political Complex?”, African Affairs, vol. 103, no. 412, 2004: 385–​412. Young, M. Crawford, Politics in the Congo: Decolonization and Independence (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1965). Young, Crawford and Thomas Turner. The Rise and Decline of the Zairian State (Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 1985).

10 THE UNBUILDING OF A STATE UNMISS’s Role in the Lead Up to South Sudan’s Civil War Adam Day

Introduction In 2011 South Sudan became the world’s newest country, considered by its own leadership as a tabula rasa moment for state-​building.1 The United Nations (UN) Mission in South Sudan (UNMISS) began on the same day as the largest state-​ building mission in UN history, tasked with generating state capacities “from scratch”.2 Two years later, however, the country descended into civil war as the political balance fell apart and communities became pitted against each other in a conflict that lasted for five years. Scholarship to date has pointed to the failure of this state-​building project as the result of under-​resourcing, from the lack of political will by the South Sudanese leadership, or from inability of the UN to resolve deep inter-​ethnic ties.3 This chapter applies a political economy lens to offer a different explanation, one based on a mapping of the underlying governance system of South Sudan. Instead of operating in a model akin to a liberal state in which security and basic services were delivered via state institutions, the South Sudanese governance system was a network that stretched across the SPLA, traditional leaders, and ethnic communities. UNMISS’ work to build up state institutions not only ignored this reality, but also unintentionally contributed to underlying dynamics within it, bolstering the dominant ethnic group at the expense of others in the national political accommodation. The result was that UN support contributed to many of the dynamics that led up to the war and rendered the peace operation poorly placed to address the violence when it broke out in 2013. The chapter proceeds in three parts. The first part explores South Sudan’s governance system, noting the key moments in the region’s history that helped shape the dominant relationships as of 2011. The second part describes the creation of UNMISS, with particular emphasis on the planning assumptions that guided the mission’s state-​building mandate. It concludes that the UN’s approach was founded DOI: 10.4324/9781003248637-12

200  Adam Day

upon a set of assumptions about liberal forms of governance, especially a monolithic understanding of the state as the sole custodian of governance capacities. This misperception about the governance system of South Sudan meant that UNMISS’ state-​building approach may have unintentionally fed conflict dynamics in the lead up to the civil war rather than preventing them. The third part concludes with broader lessons from the South Sudan experience, pointing to the need for greater understanding of non-​state forms of governance, the utility of complexity theory as a lens through which to view state-​building, and a call for international intervention to be more cognisant of how change takes place in fragile settings.

South Sudan’s Governance System: A Brief History South Sudan’s governance system at the moment of independence in 2011 was a palimpsest, written over earlier systems of authority stretching back hundreds of years. In each major epoch of the region’s history, from pre-​colonial times to present, authorities and their communities have grappled with fundamental questions concerning how the centre would relate to (and often exploit) the periphery, modifying older structures of authority to suit their purposes. By mapping the ebbs and flows of public authority from the 20-​year Sudanese civil war to South Sudan’s independence,4 three key patterns emerge: (1) the gravitational pull of ethnicity as an ordering force in southern Sudan; (2) economic dependency of the periphery on the centre, even as nominal decentralisation was implemented; and (3) the militarisation of governance through two civil wars, resulting in what Clémence Pinaud has called a “military aristocracy” in South Sudan.5

The War Years (1983–​2005) The dominant factor in southern Sudan’s governance between 1956 and 2005 was the almost continuous state of war between North and South. The role of the Southern People’s Liberation Movement/​Army (SPLM/​SPLA)6 through the second civil war (1983–​2005) played a determinative role in re-​shaping governance systems in the South in two important and related ways: (1) through the subordination of traditional authorities into the service of the SPLA itself and (2) via the rise of ethnic factionalism, in which fomenting rebellions became the primary way in which southern communities could voice dissatisfaction with the southern leadership and negotiate greater resources and power. In 1983 the SPLM was founded upon a common southern platform of frustration at underdevelopment and marginalisation in the South and a progressive vision of economic and political autonomy from Khartoum (though the movement certainly had no goal of independent statehood at the time).7 The SPLA achieved far more cohesive territorial control than its predecessor –​the Ananyana rebellion –​ building greater unity across different constituencies through the war. However, the SPLA’s hegemony elides the long history of divisions within the SPLM/​A and southern communities; in fact, most of the civil war was fought on southern

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territory, among southern groups and proxies of the North.8 As a result, prior to the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) period in 2005, the SPLM never set up the kind of shadow ministries or provisional government structures typical to an autonomous region, but instead largely assumed the structures of the Anglo-​ Egyptian native administration in an overriding push to pursue the war.9 Traditional chieftaincies continued to be recognised as the custodians of customary law within communities, and they were expected to perform state-​like activities such as tax collection and infrastructural projects on behalf of the SPLA. At the same time, customary authorities were subjected to the military exigencies of the movement in a variety of ways: SPLA officers often played a supervisory role over the chiefs, including the selection of chieftaincies; in rural areas SPLA commanders carved out fiefdoms where they overruled community leadership and extracted resources; and rural communities were forced to contribute to SPLA upkeep via taxes in kind, such as grains, livestock and cattle.10 The SPLA’s dominant governance role created a symbiotic relationship between the rebel group and the communities, one mediated by traditional authorities.11 The SPLA gained material resources –​food, shelter, recruits and different forms of rent –​via their territorial control of many parts of southern Sudan. Operating through traditional authorities allowed the SPLA to maintain some degrees of legitimacy within communities; there were even instances where traditional authorities were given SPLA military ranks to ensure compliance and guarantee that SPLA presence was seen as part of the community governance structure.12 The ethno-​ military aspect of the SPLA allowed it to provide to its communities as well: because the network was maintained along ethnic lines, the SPLA was seen as a protector of community interests, directing land, natural resources and representation at the centre in favour of the community in which they were deployed. This governance arrangement led the SPLM/​A leadership to use the military network across southern Sudan to maintain coherence in the face of splits, rebellions and mutinies by communities during the war with Khartoum. Coherence was achieved, in blunt terms, by purchasing loyalty: faced with divisions and rebellions by southern communities, SPLM leader John Garang tended to offer integration into the SPLA and/​or leadership positions within the movement, where a secure paycheck hedged against future disloyalty. Given that Khartoum’s principal method for weakening the rebellion was to foment discord within the SPLA, preventing the collapse of the group was often Garang’s overriding strategic objective. As Matthew LeRiche notes, “managing the political economy of factional dynamics in the region became the main vehicle through which Garang and many of his commanders conducted the war”.13 The military chain of command, laid over the traditional authority structures from the colonial era, thus became the conduit to maintain the communities of southern Sudan in a unified fight against the North. As a result, communities wishing to express dissatisfaction with the SPLM/​ A found that the most expedient act was armed rebellion. Groups capable of threatening the SPLM/​A leadership with violence could establish a bargaining position, extract concessions for ending their uprising and create new economic

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opportunities for their communities. Those without the ability to confront the military strength of the SPLA were either quashed or ignored.14 As John Garang himself wrote, “the marginal cost of rebellion in the South became very small, zero to negative; that is, in the South it pays to rebel”.15 The outcome of the continual disintegration and reintegration of the SPLA was the growth of a patronage network expressed through the military chain of command, layered over existing traditional governance structures. Here, the mode of negotiation between communities and the SPLA was insurrection, where bargains were struck in accordance with the political and military threat posed by a local leader. Largesse was dispensed militarily, in the form of integration deals that included the right to SPLA command positions over specific territories. As Sukanya Podder describes, a form of “wartime governance” evolved during this period, privileging and legitimising the rebel SPLA in ways that allowed it to permeate the social and economic spheres of southern Sudan.16

The Post-​War Years (2005–​2011) If anything, these dynamics were amplified by the 2005 CPA, which ended the 20-​year civil war and transformed the SPLM into a regional government with far greater financial and political autonomy from Khartoum. In the year immediately following the CPA, Juba’s annual budget jumped one hundredfold, from $14.5 million to $1.3 billion, flowing from the more than $100 million per month in oil revenues that were shared between North and South.17 For the first time, the governing SPLM controlled its own budget, and duly spent overwhelmingly on maintaining its army. Post-​war spending on security-​sector wages outstripped even Afghanistan’s, with a near total dependency on oil revenues to maintain salary rates.18 Of this enormous sum, military wages constituted nearly 70 per cent of government salaries, with soldiers receiving roughly $150 per month (far more than neighbouring countries).19 These outlays were in part driven by dramatic increases in oil production from the 1990s through the early 2000s, and a (misplaced) belief among the southern leadership that revenues would continue to grow.20 In 2006, SPLM eagerness to pour resources into wages meant that it overspent its annual budget by more than $200 million.21 This fiscal policy demonstrated the SPLM’s overriding priority on its own military strength and its use of military structures to maintain loyalty across south Sudan. The distribution of largesse via ethno-​ military networks rather than institutionalised administrative authorities created a heavily dependent periphery within the governance system of South Sudan. Without any capacity to meaningfully collect taxes, and lacking funding from the centre, local institutions beyond the major towns relied almost entirely on Juba for their existence and communicated those needs through the SPLA. According to the World Bank, most southern counties could cover less than 20 per cent of their budgets from their own tax revenues, while the SPLA dominated local roles of administrating land and cattle markets.22 The result was a positive feedback loop within the governance system of

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south Sudan: over time the states’ ability to generate revenue declined, making them less able to develop institutional infrastructure or maintain staff, leading to a further decline in their revenue generation.23 Consequently, the formal state structures were only somewhat involved in the distribution of power and resources across south Sudan, more like rocks in a stream dampened by the flows around them, but unable to influence the current. Governance via ethno-​military networks was the basis for what Alex de Waal astutely called “the hegemonic power of the SPLM-​SPLA patronage-​coercion nexus”.24 This network relied on a pattern of exchange built over decades: loyalty to the SPLM in return for the right to draw benefits from a position within the SPLA. When the oil boom began in the early 2000s, these benefits were easily expressed in cash terms; political accommodation within the “big tent” of the SPLM was organised by payouts from the SPLM to its loyalists. However, the system did not merely depend on cash: ethnicity was a crucial currency that also flowed through it, lubricating relations when money was short. Ethnicity was how the patronage network extended from the urban centres to the largely cashless hinterlands, ensuring that those beyond the reach of payouts were nonetheless incorporated into the system.25 “Tribalizing” issues was a cheap modality to ensure loyalty, as evidenced by the widespread practice of SPLA soldiers marrying within the families of their chain of command.26 When SPLA General Paulino Matiep died, for example, his 47 wives and 102 children were more than merely a sign of his status and wealth within south Sudan, they were also a network of soldiers and loyalists with a clear function in the southern governance system.27 In the background, the governing SPLM faced a dilemma: in concentrating on political accommodation and maintenance of the ethno-​military network as the key mechanism for stability across the South, southern resources were never channelled into functioning state administrative institutions.28 In fact, to get to the 2011 referendum with the SPLM in one piece and prove that the South could achieve statehood, Garang’s successor, Salva Kiir, paradoxically was compelled to deprive state institutions of any chance of success. Indeed, part of the SPLM’s strategy from 2005 onwards appeared to be to ensure that unity with the North was not made attractive, which meant limiting development in the short term in the hopes that a deeply disaffected southern population would continue to blame the North and vote for independence.29 The result was the accelerated decline during the CPA period of much of south Sudan’s already anaemic formal administration, even as calls grew louder in favour of building the SPLM’s governance capacity. In 2007, two years after the CPA period began, zero resources had been set aside by the SPLM to pay salaries for key posts at the county level, while appointed state and county officials spent the bulk of their time chasing their own salaries.30 Fifteen government institutions representing 80 per cent of the government’s payroll could present no records of their staff.31 By the end of the interim period in 2011, roughly half of the statutory positions within ministries of south Sudan had not been filled, while the region ranked near or at

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the bottom of every governance indicator worldwide.32 Oil revenues serviced what Morris Szeftal has termed the “prebendal state”, where state officials used their position as sinecures to enrich themselves and their communities.33 In this sense, the SPLA’s ethno-​military dominance of the governance system created positive feedback loops around elite control of resources as they were diverted into elite coffers, strengthening the patterns of peripheral dependency on the centre. More resources perversely led to even less potential to build stable institutions. This set of patterns in the South Sudanese governance system meant that the UN’s approach –​focused almost entirely on building up state institutions –​was distorted and co-​opted by the strong attractors that drew resources and political energy ineluctably towards other centres of gravity. This distortion is the subject of the next section.

The Making of UNMISS From the outset, UNMISS was designed to support the transformation of South Sudan into a viable state, “strengthening the capacity of the Government of the Republic of South Sudan to govern effectively and democratically”.34 As laid out in its initial mandate, UNMISS would “support national authorities… consolidate the peace”.35 This would be achieved by large-​scale reform –​especially within the security sector –​and massive capacity-​building.36 And the capacity-​building needs were enormous: United States Agency for International Development (USAID) recommended that the number of so-​called “capacity builders” –​experts who would directly advise the government and replace the lack of experience in the short term –​be “significantly bolstered” around independence, subsequently spending more than $23 million on “good governance” in 2011 alone.37 By independence, South Sudan was receiving development assistance from thirteen bilateral and eight multilateral sources, totalling more than $1.4 billion per year.38 Hundreds of South Sudanese government officials received training in anti-​corruption; thousands of civil servants received fiscal and management skills training; dozens of institutions were refurbished in the hopes that South Sudan would begin to function more like a state.39 UNMISS was designed to deliver that state-​building vision for South Sudan. The highest priority listed in its mandate was “fostering long-​term statebuilding”, followed by “support the Government of South Sudan in exercising its responsibilities”.40 Across political, security and rule of law arenas, UNMISS was tasked to provide support to the institutions of state, with clear benchmarks for measuring its success, such as the state’s demonstrated capacity to reintegrate 150,000 former rebel soldiers, build a functioning police service, establish regulatory frameworks for rule of law institutions and implement a national strategy for security sector reform.41 Within the civilian section of the mission, more than 1,100 staff members were identified within the mission’s budget as supporting state capacity-​building programmes.42 UN agencies followed suit with the UN Development Programme referring to the overarching need to “put state-​building first”, and spending millions on a programme of support to the Government of South Sudan.43

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Moreover, UNMISS was designed to support the extension of state authority from urban areas into the rural peripheries, in recognition of the longstanding absence of formal institutional capacities beyond the larger towns. To this end, the mission design paralleled the state/​county model of the Government, setting up offices in state capitals and “county support bases” to build state governance capacities in isolated parts of the country.44 The theory behind these bases was for UNMISS’ state-​building work to have a “portal” to local communities, gradually identifying key governance needs and extending state capacity into rural areas. As articulated by the Secretary-​General, UNMISS was to support the presence of state capacities across the country, until national authorities were able to build effective institutions.45 UNMISS staff were of course aware of local governance capacities beyond state actors, and the mission possessed some of the most knowledgeable analysts in South Sudan, many of whom had spent decades engaging with community actors.46 But the mission tended to treat local issues within a different sphere. Structurally, the mission was divided into civil affairs (focused mainly on local conflict resolution) and political affairs (focused on national political issues).This contributed to a bifurcation within the mission: at a local level, civil affairs analysis focused on inter-​ communal issues, such as cattle rustling, land disputes and long-​standing cycles of violence; at the national level, political affairs dealt with issues like the constitutional provisions around decentralisation and consolidation of the peace. Indeed, when the UN and its partners referred to governance issues at the local level, it was almost uniformly in terms of bolstering state capacities. Aligned with this view of the state as the solution to insecurity in the peripheries, the UN Secretary-​General repeatedly suggested that inter-​communal violence, cattle raiding, land disputes and other tensions should be addressed via “effective rule of law and state authority”.47 The panacea to the many ills of South Sudan was state-​building. Given this detailed knowledge within the mission, it is worth briefly asking the question, why did UNMISS adopt such a state-​centric approach to its work? Part of the answer concerns the deep path dependency of the UN on the liberal state model. While working on the conflict assessment for South Sudan, I noticed a strong tendency of my colleagues within the UN to describe non-​state forms of governance as deviations from a norm, or at best a curious aberration that would correct itself with the creation of state institutions. For example, while in Malakal speaking with UN colleagues about long-​standing disputes over territory among the Shilluk, Dinka and Nuer communities, they suggested that the creation of state-​led police and judicial capacities would eventually help them resolve their disagreements. “What Malakal needs is a trusted police and court system that can sort this out for them”, one UN staff member told me. Similarly, during a visit to the oil-​r ich state in Bentiu, a senior UN official told me “as soon as the state finds a way to capture and distribute oil revenues, we can move into a new normal”. Indeed, this concept of a “new normal” was a powerful ideological force behind the UN’s support to South Sudan, an assumption that effective state institutions would form the backbone of a new nation.

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The Unmaking of South Sudan Evidence that South Sudan’s system of governance differed from UNMISS’ assumptions was perhaps most visible in attempts to decentralise authority to the state and county level. UNMISS was mandated to help build institutional capacities beyond the major urban areas, including by improving the state’s rule of law capacities across the country. Deploying 900 police to the ten states of South Sudan with a mandate to train the state’s security services, the mission dedicated a majority of its civilian resources to capacity-​building. While the Government’s development plan precisely aligned with UNMISS, in practice state resources were instead directed away from institutions and towards salaries, especially for individual units of the SPLA.48 Government austerity measures in 2011, for example, made cuts of roughly 30 per cent to consumption, development and transfers to the states, but maintained the wage levels of all public officials.49 Alex de Waal tracked a counterintuitive rise in salaries to the SPLA in the immediate post-​independence period, a continuation of the patterns of patronage described in the previous section.50 Cuts to fiscal transfers to formal institutions at the state level, combined with increases in the salaries of the SPLA in the same areas, shows the gravitational pull of the military, rather than rule of law institutions (police, judicial) as the primary vehicle for governance even in the post-​independence period. Instead, decentralised administrative structures “function[ed] above all as patronage instruments”.51 Failure to fund such institutions was not a new dynamic but rather a continuation of well rooted patterns; for decades the state had been defined by the relationship between the SPLA and its communities, most often functioning as a channel to reinforce elite power along ethnic lines. The dissonance between planning and reality became increasingly stark: within months of South Sudan’s independence, the government indicated its intent to use the internationally funded DDR programme to offload its elderly, sick or disabled soldiers, ensuring that those unfit for duty would nonetheless receive funds.52 By 2013, the World Bank estimated that the SPLA and southern militias accounted for more than 300,000 troops, a near doubling of the figure during the CPA period and a clear sign that downsizing was a mirage.53 The creation of the South Sudan National Police Service (SSNPS) offered further evidence that SSR was not resulting in a shift in the rules of the game: dramatically underfunded and clearly unable to replace the army as the providers of internal security, the newly formed police was most notable for its overwhelmingly Dinka leadership.54 Other evidence, such as the deployment of the SPLA across the territory of South Sudan rather than areas of most acute violence, pointed to the inescapable conclusion that the security services remained what it had been for decades: a means to ensure that the centre could generate the loyalty of the periphery. Why did state-​building fail to take hold in the first two years of South Sudan’s independence? Many experts have pointed to growing insecurity as a key cause: in 2011 alone, 3,000 people were killed and 300,000 displaced, requiring emergency deployment of large portions of the SPLA.55 With Special Representative of the

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Secretary-​General (SRSG) Johnson calling for increased UN troops to support the state’s protection responsibilities, downsizing the army may not have been a viable reform between 2011 and 2013.56 Other experts have pointed the finger at corrupt government officials whose interests conflicted with those of SSR;Wolfram Lacher’s suggestion that the objectives of the SPLA “diverge[d]‌considerably” from those of international partners somewhat sarcastically captures this viewpoint.57 These explanations would maintain state-​building as a worthwhile task that was merely derailed by insecurity, underfunding or individual greed. In contrast, the systemic understanding of governance described above offers greater explanatory power. The SPLA was not a monolithic entity that could be reformed via legislation and training, because it was largely defined within the centre–​periphery relationship, acting more to consolidate the SPLM’s power across communities than to secure and provide for the population. Edward Lino’s claim that “there was nothing called ‘SPLA’, it was divided and shredded into tribal formations adhering to individual commanders” captures this conceptualisation of the SPLA as caught between its ethnic/​communal identities, its role in consolidating elite control of the peripheries and its long-​standing identity as a rebellion against an oppressive regime to the North.58 Governance in South Sudan had come to depend on the SPLA as the conduit for influence from the centre to the periphery. Integration into the SPLA was the way in which Juba addressed potential rifts in its network, meaning that efforts to downsize the army ran against well-​established patterns that acted to stabilise the system. As Matthew LeRiche notes, armed group integration was a “cyclical political process” rather than a linear state-​building one, extremely unlikely to result in the development of functioning institutions.59 As South Sudan underwent successive shocks to its system—​in particular the 2012 oil shut-​off—​reliance on the SPLA to hold the network together became even more urgent, even as the SPLA itself began to fragment. Austerity was passed on to the formal institutions, not the SPLA network; generals were promoted rather than retired; patterns of purchasing loyalty proved too deep to be overcome by superficial legislation and occasional training regimes.60 These dynamics indicate that UNMISS’ support to the state may have invigorated the more divisive, predatory governance patterns across the country. The combination of a Juba-​focused, legislatively driven attempt to build formal institutions appeared to contribute to what Sukanya Podder has called “the progressive consolidation of an elite-​centred and Dinka-​dominated decision-​making”, and an embedding of the elite’s dependence upon the SPLA to maintain its web of control.61 In dozens of interviews conducted with South Sudanese –​including former government officials and members of civil society –​there was a consistent theme around the topic of state-​building: UN support to the government ran with the grain of patronage, not against it, offering resources and political support that were channelled into the existing network rather than changing how it functioned.62 When the civil war broke out in 2013, experts suggested it was triggered by deeply rooted antagonisms across the Dinka and Nuer factions within the SPLM,

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most evident in the fractured relationship between President Kiir andVice-​President Machar. Economic causes were also identified, most notably by Alex de Waal who argued that the 2012 oil cut-​off caused a breakdown in Kiir’s patronage network. As the above analysis has described, both of these dynamics are linked to a broader system of governance that had evolved over decades of civil war, an ethno-​military network that had been responsible for governing South Sudan for generations and was not going to be pushed aside by state-​building.

Implications for State-​Building and UN Peace Operations The South Sudanese experience is unique, but it finds important parallels across UN peace operations. In fact, there is a startling similarity in the mandates of major peace operations deployed in civil wars: in DRC, Mali, Central African Republic, Libya and Darfur, the UN has been tasked with remarkably similar roles of extending state authority and bolstering state capacity. Despite decades of at best incremental improvements in those settings –​and indeed in many cases the situation has worsened significantly, the UN returns time and again to the same model of investing in state institutions. As a result of recurrent failure, UN state-​building and peacebuilding may have already lapsed into a listless malaise, content with an endlessly retreating peace horizon. Pol Bargués-​Pedreny describes this as a sort of liberal paralysis in which the need to avoid imposing external frameworks leads peacebuilding to be principally an act of deferral, one where the goal paradoxically becomes failure itself.63 Perhaps UN peace operations suffer collectively from atychiphilia, the love of failure? Indeed, much of this chapter has suggested that settings like South Sudan might be better off without a UN peace operation, unless a serious adjustment is made. Scholarship suggesting a “local turn” to more culturally sensitive, less neo-​colonial approaches to interventions may help to prevent unwarranted interventions, but offers very little to answer the question “What do we do now?” Here, a systemic approach yields potentially more constructive lessons for future engagement in conflict-​prone settings, three of which I mention here as a sort of future research agenda.

Timing of Interventions First, a systemic understanding of governance suggests that we may have misunderstood the best moment to generate change in societies, including the appropriate moment for deploying a peace operation. Like a thixotropic substance, societies may appear to become more fluid when they are shaken by conflict, only returning to a more viscous, steady state when the conflict has been stabilised.64 Alex de Waal hints at this in his description of “turbulence” where systems may appear unpredictable and chaotic from one moment to the next, but still maintain a recognisable structure over the longer term.65 The UN implicitly has adopted this mindset, viewing periods of violent conflict and social upheaval as moments of fluidity and opportunity in which countries that have suffered dictatorships,

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repressive governments or other forms of corrupt, undemocratic rule become ripe for transformation. Internal wars are called “transitions” where the prospects for a shift towards better systems of governance are highest, partly because of the vulnerability of the ruling elite and the consolidation of oppositional forces.66 The hope of UN state-​building has been that periods of flux and fluidity offer the potential to re-​order societies, consolidating legitimate authority in a phalanx of effective, well-​funded state institutions.67 In contrast, evidence from South Sudan suggests that periods of violent conflict may trigger strong reactions in systems to exert their most powerful undercurrents, establishing themselves even more firmly within their respective systems with repercussions long after the conflict has ended.When the oil cut-​off in 2012 drained the system of its resources, this did not prompt a meaningful change in the underlying governance system of South Sudan, but instead caused it to gravitate to its strongest attractors –​the SPLA gained in prominence, and the ethno-​military network became even more deeply entrenched in security and basic service delivery.68 By deploying a UN peace operation aligned with the state at this moment, greater energy and resources were poured into this system at precisely the moment when the risks of SPLA capture were highest. Systemic approaches offer insight into the moments of crisis, helping to identify the underlying relationships that generate recognisable structure over time, including those operating during moments of high-​ intensity conflict. If one imagines a society as a complicated machine in need of fixing, violent conflict may appear to be an opportunity to remove the broken or unwanted pieces and replace them with good parts.69 A UN peace operation may be an imperfect mechanic, but it is the dominant one selected by the international community when faced with a country emerging from conflict. If, however, a society is described as a complex system exhibiting emergent properties that result from networked relations, then periods of violent conflict may present difficult or even dangerous moments to try to generate change. What appears as fluidity and potential for change may in fact be a moment when the system is relying most heavily on its most powerful relationships to stabilise itself. Rather than attempting to build a house during a seasonal hurricane, complexity-​oriented approaches suggest that construction might be more viable in the calm between the storms, or preferably before the inclement weather strikes. At the very least, the findings from South Sudan suggest that efforts to impose new forms of order and/​or build alternative institutions during or immediately after conflict may suffer unintended consequences that could have been anticipated by adopting a more systemic analytic lens. This conclusion has immediate repercussions for UN peace operations, which are almost by definition deployed during periods of high instability constituting “threats to international peace and security”. Indeed, if one accepts that the best time to generate change may be in moments of calm, then two shifts may be needed in the UN: (1) a greater emphasis on longer-​term, more structurally focused support as the main tool for addressing violent, predatory settings and (2) possibly reducing the ambition of peacekeeping away from large-​scale, multi-​dimensional

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approaches that tend to support the development of state institutions. Smaller, less capacity-​driven missions might well avoid some of the gravitational pulls identified above.

Reimagining “the Local” Today’s peace scholarship gravitates strongly to the local as both a principled rejection of top-​down Western approaches and a pragmatic demand that interventions be grounded in the everyday experiences of citizens. From James C. Scott’s notion of “infra-​politics of resistance” to Mac Ginty and Richmond’s “local turn” in peacebuilding, there is a growing consensus –​including within the UN –​that everyday citizens are the “primary architects, owners and long-​term stakeholders” of peace.70 The most strident critiques of the UN likewise accuse the organisation of failing to connect with local realities, uncritically imposing foreign constructs that match poorly with the lived experience of citizens.71 This scholarship juxtaposes local against national and international, creating a binary in which local activities are separated, below or somehow outside of national machinations. While the local turn has been rightly criticised by scholars as a neo-​ colonial glorification of local culture,72 there is also a more pragmatic concern: “the local” is a fuzzy term that offers no guideposts to understand how the broader system works.73 Concepts of hybridity and friction –​which argue that local, national and international actors/​institutions combine and interact in different ways –​do little more than restate the messiness and complexity of societies.74 Describing villagers going about their everyday routines may make peacebuilders feel more connected to the reality of life in the host country, but they offer essentially no explanation for how the system of power works. Instead, the above analysis of South Sudan suggests that locality is a point of connection among actors, a node in a broader system that may stretch well beyond a country’s borders. The relationship among an SPLA commander, a traditional chief and a state governor in South Sudan constitutes one such node, which may be connected to a diaspora or an international development agency.75 Some nodes may be more influential across the system, but this is the result of their relationships, not their status as a villager, a Chief Executive Officer or a politician. Such an approach allows analysis to cut through artificial local/​national divides and explore the underlying patterns holding a system together; it suggests, following John Paul Lederach’s metaphor, that we should avoid thinking of change as driven by a critical mass at the top, but rather as a “critical yeast” that may transform systems via myriad small changes from within.76 Future UN engagements with these systems would benefit from such a systemic understanding of governance systems. From a policy standpoint, this would require (1) building better political-​economy analytic capacities in peace operations, drawing on a greater number of disciplines and more grounded forms of analysis (e.g. a South Sudanese anthropologist, or historian would offer an incredibly important set of insights for a mission like UNMISS); and (2) greater willingness

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to push back on overly top-​down mandates by the Security Council and UN Headquarters, possibly via a two-​step mandating process where the UN is able to generate more nuanced analysis to feed into a mandate.77

Resilience Revisited The final insight from complexity theory concerns the autonomy of the societies in which state-​building is taking place. Critics of state-​building like Dominik Zaum and David Chandler have rightly pointed to the paradox at the heart of the practice: international intervention, ostensibly designed to restore the sovereign independence of failed or failing states, in fact tends to take over state functions, thus removing the key attribute of sovereignty itself, autonomy.78 The response to this criticism within academic scholarship and the UN has been a recognition that “peace cannot be imposed from the outside, peace needs to emerge organically from within society”.79 Intervention should enable societies to build up their own resilience, to help them develop their own capacities for self-​management, thus achieving autonomy. Resilience refers to the capacity of a system to self-​organise; it has a reinforcing tendency where a system learns from disturbances and adapts to altered circumstances without collapsing.80 Building up the resilience of conflict-​prone countries has become a mantra of development and state-​building around the world and is fairly uncritically viewed as a positive step towards more culturally sensitive, locally rooted interventions.81 As David Chandler has noted, this conceptualisation of resilience understands that complex systems cannot be governed via top-​down, controlling approaches, but must emerge from within societies.82 Cedric de Coning has similarly argued that peacebuilding should foster resilience, it “should be about stimulating and facilitating the capacity of societies to self-​organise, so that they can increase their ability to absorb and adapt to stress, to the degree necessary to sustain peace”.83 Here, state fragility is seen as the absence of resilience, a “complexity deficit” in which the state has insufficient capacity to self-​organise and develop its own ability to combat tendencies towards violent conflict.84 In this view, the role of the intervener should be one of encouragement and enabling within an essentially internal process of self-​organisation, leading to increased resilience against the tendencies towards violence.85 This chapter, however, suggests that resilience is not necessarily the positive outcome of societies. The case of South Sudan demonstrates that the so-​called fragile settings display high degrees of complexity and resilience, deeply interlinked systems of governance capable of resisting even the most robust and well-​funded attempts to change them. In other words, societies in conflict are no less complex or resilient than those enjoying long periods of peace. The continuous evolution of public authority during violent conflict may in fact create more deeply enmeshed webs of relationships than in peaceful societies, rendering apparently fragile societies potentially more complex than their more peaceful counterparts. South Sudan’s ability to maintain its underlying systems of governance despite decades of international efforts to transform it speaks to its extraordinary resilience.86

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The experiences of South Sudan suggest that we should avoid the normative gloss on our definition of resilience: it is not necessarily the positive outcome of a society that has developed healthy internal behaviours, but instead describes the capacity of a system to maintain its underlying rules in the face of major disturbances. This is the case even if such a system is violent, unequal and “corrupt”. Seen in this light, the goal of international interventions should not be an uncritical attempt to build greater resilience; in fact, this might be counterproductive if a system’s resilience is founded upon violence. Instead, a UN intervention should start with the question “What are the ways in which this system stabilises itself, and how might it respond to our proposed intervention?” In many cases, the answer may be sufficiently vague as to suggest the UN should avoid intervening. In others, the UN may need to grapple with potentially uncomfortable questions of working within corrupt, neo-​patrimonial or even ideologically opposed systems, rather than attempting to transform them. Ultimately, however, UN peace operations will need to confront the reality that they are part of the political marketplace, not apart from it, and must understand how power is distributed if they are to generate the kinds of change they hope to achieve.

Notes 1 President Salva Kiir’s Martyr’s Day Speech, 30 July 2011, available at https://​paan​luel​wel. com/​2011/​07/​31/​presid​ent-​kiirs-​spe​ech-​in-​the-​6th-​mart​yrs-​day-​30-​7-​2011/​ 2 World Bank, “South Sudan Overview” 2013, available at www.worldb​ank.org/​en/​coun​ try/​sou​thsu​dan/​overv​iew=​ 3 See, Hilde F. Johnson, South Sudan:The Untold Story from Independence to Civil War (London: L.B. Tauris, 2016), p. 98; Richard Dowden, “South Sudan’s leaders have learnt nothing from 50 years of independence in Africa,” African Arguments (22 January 2014); Kimo Adiebo et al, “Public Expenditures in South Sudan: Are They Delivering?” World Bank Economic Brief, Issue 2, February 2013. 4 While it is beyond the scope of this chapter to consider the colonial and precolonial periods, their importance in shaping the governance system of South Sudan today should not be underestimated. For insightful descriptions of these periods, see Douglas H. Johnson, The Root Causes of Sudan’s Civil Wars (Oxford: James Currey Press, 2003); Cherry Leonardi, Dealing with Government in South Sudan: Histories of Chiefship, Community and State, (Oxford: James Currey Press, 2015); Douglas H. Johnson, “Federalism in the History of South Sudanese Political Thought,” in Struggle for South Sudan: Challenges of Security and State Formation, eds. Luka Biong Deng Kuol and Sarah Logan (London: I.B. Tauris, 2019). Kuol, Struggle for South Sudan. 5 Clémence Pinaud, “South Sudan: Civil war, predation and the making of a military aristocracy,” African Affairs,Vol. 113, No. 451 (2014). 6 Throughout, I make little distinction between SPLM and SPLA, reflecting the lack of distinction within the group between its political and military leadership. In fact, this blurring is crucial to the later analysis of how the SPLA became a central node in the governance system of southern Sudan. 7 Johnson, The Root Causes of Sudan’s Civil Wars, 64. 8 Ibid., 91. 9 Ibid., 105.

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10 Pinaud, “South Sudan: Civil war”, 192–​211. 11 For an in-​depth use of symbiotic relations in peacebuilding, see Charles T. Hunt,“Beyond the binaries: towards a relational approach to peacebuilding,” Global Change, Peace & Security, 29:3 (2017): 209–​227. 12 Podder, “Mainstreaming the non-​state,” 213–​243. 13 LeRiche, “Conflict Governance”, 22–​26. 14 In 2010, for instance, the commander Peter Gatdet had defected more than a dozen times, each time receiving a reintegration deal back into the SPLA. 15 Atta El-​Batahani, Ibrahim A. Elbadawi, and Ali Abdel Gadir Ali, “Sudan’s civil war. Why has it prevailed for so long?” in Understanding Civil War: Evidence and analysis,Vol. 1 –​Africa, eds. Nicholas Sambanis and Paul Collier (Washington, DC: World Bank 2005), 193. 16 Podder, “Mainstreaming the non-​state,” 213–​243. 17 Jill Shankleman, “Oil and State-​building in South Sudan,” United States Institute of Peace, July 2011. 18 Luka Biong Deng Kuol, “The Federalism-​ Decentralisation-​ Peace Nexus in South Sudan,” in The Struggle for South Sudan: Challenges of Security and State Formation, eds. Luka Biong Deng Kuol and Sarah Logan (London: I.B. Tauris, 2019), 228. 19 Ibid., 231. 20 Jill Shankleman, “Oil and State-​building in South Sudan,” United States Institute of Peace, July 2011; Luke Patey, “Crude Days Ahead? Oil and the Resource Curse in Sudan,” African Affairs 109/​437 (2010): 617–​636. 21 Overseas Development Institute Briefing Paper, “Planning and Budgeting in South Sudan: starting from scratch” (October 2010), available at www.odi.org/​sites/​odi.org. uk/​files/​odi-​ass​ets/​publi​cati​ons-​opin​ion-​files/​6093.pdf 22 World Bank, “Southern Sudan: Enabling the State: Estimating the non-​Oil Revenue Potential of State and Local Governments” (Washington, 2010); Thomas, A Slow Liberation, 228. 23 International Monetary Fund, Sudan: Selected Issues Paper, no 12/​299, November 2012, available at www.imf.org/​exter​nal/​pubs/​ft/​scr/​2012/​cr12​299.pdf 24 Alex de Waal, “When Kleptocracy becomes Insolvent: Brute Causes of the Civil War in South Sudan,” African Affairs 113/​452 (2014): 349. 25 Naomi Pendle and Chirrilo Madut Anei,“Wartime Trade and the Reshaping of Power in South Sudan,” South Sudan Customary Authorities Project, Rift Valley Institute, 2018 (noting that the patronage network grew weaker as it extended beyond urban centres). 26 Pinaud, “South Sudan: Civil War”, 192–​211. 27 Sudan Tribune, ‘Paulino Matip Nhial Nyaak, General’, August 2012. available at www. sudan​trib​une.com/​spip.php?mot1​948 28 Wolfram Lacher, “South Sudan: International State-​Building and Its Limits,” German Institute for International and Security Affairs, available at www.swp-​ber​lin.org/​filead​min/​ conte​nts/​produ​cts/​rese​arch​_​pap​ers/​2012_​R​P04_​lac.pdf 29 LeRiche, The Challenges of Governance in South Sudan, 42. 30 Simon Harragin, “Waiting for pay-​ day: Anthropological Research on Local-​ level Governance Structures in South Sudan,” Save the Children Report (2007). 31 Johnson, South Sudan:The Untold Story, 30. 32 Ibid., 30; Magali Mores, Overview of Corruption and Anti-​Corruption in South Sudan, Transparency International, 4 March 2013. 33 Morris Szeftel, ‘Between Governance and Underdevelopment: Accumulation and Africa’s “Catastrophic Corruption,” ’ Review of African Political Economy 27, 84 (2000), 302. 34 United Nations Security Council resolution on the situation in South Sudan, S/​RES/​ 1996 (2011), para. 3.

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35 Ibid., preambular para 2. 36 Office of the Secretary-​General, “Special Report of the Secretary-​General on the Sudan,” S/​ 2011/​ 314, United Nations Security Council, UNMIS (17 May 2011), para 41(e). 37 Management Systems International (MSI). “Government of Southern Sudan: Functional Capacity Prioritization Study.” USAID, December 3, 2009. 38 Larson, Ajak, and Pritchett, “South Sudan’s Capability Trap”; Fiona Davies, Gregory Smith and Tim Williamson,“Coordinating post-​conflict aid in Southern Sudan,” Overseas Development Institute, September 2011. 39 Ibid. 40 S/​RES/​1996, para 3. 41 Budget for the United Nations Mission in South Sudan for the Period from 1 July 2011 to 30 June 2012: Report of the Secretary-​General, A/​66/​532 (2011). 42 Ibid., 41. 43 Country Programme Action Plan between the Government of the Republic of South Sudan and the UN Development Programme (2012-​2013). Available at www. ss.undp.org/​cont​ent/​dam/​sou​thsu​dan/​libr​ary/​Repo​r ts/​south​suda​noth​erdo​cume​nts/​ UNDP%20So​uth%20Sud​an_​C​PAP%202​012-​2013%20Fin%20%20Sig​ned.pdf 44 Da Costa and de Coning, “United Nations Mission in the Republic of South Sudan”, 831-​840; Report of the United Nations Secretary-​General on the Situation in South Sudan, S/​2012/​746 (8 October 2012), para 5. 45 Secretary-​ General’s remarks at Security Council open debate on trends in United Nations Peacekeeping 11 June 2014. 46 During the conflict assessment I co-​authored in 2010–​11, I worked directly with the head of civil affairs, who had spent 20 years working in southern Sudan and who had an extraordinarily rich understanding of local dynamics. Unfortunately few, if any, of her insights, were reflected in any of the finished planning documents put forward by the UN. 47 For example, United Nations Secretary-​General’s Report on South Sudan, S/​2012/​486 (2012), para 98. 48 See “Multi Annual Strategic Plan South Sudan 2012-​2015,” South Sudan Ministry of Foreign Affairs (2011). Available at http://​extw​prle​gs1.fao.org/​docs/​pdf/​ssd148​386.pdf (emphasizing capacity building as a core task). 49 Magali Mores, “Overview of Corruption and Anti-​ Corruption in South Sudan,” Transparency International, 4 March 2013. 50 De Waal, “When Kleptocracy becomes Insolvent,” 349. 51 Wolfram Lacher, “South Sudan: International State-​Building and Its Limits,” German Institute for International and Security Affairs (2012). 52 Ibid. 53 International Development Association and International Finance Corporation, “South Sudan –​Interim Strategy Note for FY2013-​2014,” Report No: 74767-​SS, World Bank (30 January 2013):5 54 Snowden, “Work in Progress.” 55 Report of the United Nations Secretary-​General on the Situation in South Sudan, S/​ 2012/​ 140 (March 2012); Written Evidence of UK International Development Committee, 11 April 2012, available at www.publi​cati​ons.par​liam​ent.uk/​pa/​cm201​012/​ cmsel​ect/​cmint​dev/​1570/​1570w​e08.htm 56 Hilde Johnson, “In South Sudan, Old Feuds Test a New State,” Sudan Tribune, 1 February 2012.

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57 Wolfram Lacher, “South Sudan: International State-​Building and Its Limits,” German Institute for International and Security Affairs (2012). 58 Edward Lino, “There Was No Coup in Juba,” 9 February 2014, available at https://​paan​ luel​wel.com/​2014/​02/​09/​edw​ard-​lino-​there-​was-​no-​coup-​in-​juba/​ 59 LeRiche, The Challenges of Governance in South Sudan, p. 19. 60 Ibid., p. 45. 61 Podder, Sukanya,“Mainstreaming the Non-​State in Bottom-​Up State-​Building: Linkages Between Rebel Governance and Post-​ Conflict Legitimacy,” Conflict, Security and Development, vol. 14, no. 2 (2014). 62 Adam Day, “Assessing the Effectiveness of the UN Mission in South Sudan,” Norwegian Institute of International Affairs, March 2019, available at https://​effect​ivep​eace​ops.net/​ unm​iss/​ 63 Pol Bargués-​Pedreny, Deferring Peace in International Statebuilding: Difference, Resilience and Critique (Oxon, UK: Routledge, 2018), pp. 8–​17. 64 I owe the concept of thixotropic substances and its application to social systems to a conversation with Stephen Jackson. I have not seen it published elsewhere. 65 De Waal, Alex, The Real Politics of the Horn of Africa: Money, War and the Business of Power (London: Polity Press, 2016), p. 17. 66 Indeed, my own published work falls into this problematic pattern. See Adam Day, Dirk Druit, and Luise Quaritsch, “When Dictators Fall: Preventing Violent Conflict During Transitions from Authoritarian Rule,” United Nations University Centre for Policy Research, May 2020. 67 See Christine Cheng, Jonathan Goodhand, and Patrick Meehan, “Securing and Sustaining Elite Bargains that Reduce Violent Conflict,” UK Stabilisation Unit Synthesis Paper, April 2018. 68 For a good description of “strong attractors,” see Peter Coleman, et al., Attracted to Conflict: Dynamic Foundations of Destructive Social Relations, New York: Springer, 2013. 69 Ashraf Ghani and Clare Lockhardt, Fixing Failed States (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009). 70 James C. Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1998); Roger Mac Ginty and Oliver Richmond, “The Local Turn in Peacebuilding: A Critical Agenda for Peace,” Third World Quarterly, vol. 34, no. 5 (2013): 763–​783; A. B. Fetherston and Carolyn Nordstrom, “Overcoming Habitus in Conflict Management: UN Peacekeeping and War Zone Ethnography,” Peace & Change, vol. 20, no. 1 (1995). 71 See, e.g., Autessere, The Trouble with the Congo. 72 Meera Sabaratnam, “Avatars of Eurocentrism in the Critique of the Liberal Peace,” Security Dialogue 44 (3) (2013). 73 See Stepputat, “Pragmatic peace”, p. 400. 74 See Mac Ginty, International Peacebuilding and Local Resistance, 73 (“everything and everyone is a hybrid”); see also Annika Björkdahl et al. eds., Peacebuilding and Friction: Global and Local Encounters in Post-​Conflict Societies (New York: Routledge, 2016). 75 For recent analysis focused on locality, see Volker Boege and Charles T. Hunt, “On ‘Traveling Traditions’: Emplaced Security in Liberia and Vanuatu,” Cooperation and Conflict (2020). 76 John Paul Lederach, The Moral Imagination: The Art and Soul of Building Peace (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), p. 91. 77 See, Adam Day, “To Build Consent in UN Peace Operations, Turn Mandates Upside Down,” UN University Centre for Policy Research, 2017.

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78 Chandler, International Statebuilding, 34; Zaum, The Sovereignty Paradox. 79 The Challenge of Sustaining Peace: Report of the Advisory Group of Experts for the 2015 Review of the United Nations Peacebuilding Architecture, New York: United Nations, 2015. 80 Körppen, The Non-​Linearity of Peace Processes. 81 See, e.g., Putting Resilience at the Heart of Development, UN Development Programme Report, 2015. 82 David Chandler, Resilience: the Governance of Complexity (Oxon, UK: Routledge, 2014), pp. 65–​66. 83 Cedric de Coning,“From Peacebuilding to Sustaining Peace: Implications of Complexity for Resilience and Sustainability,” Resilience 4:3 (2016). 84 Ibid. 85 Walter C. Clemens Jr., Complexity Science and World Affairs (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2013), p. 114. 86 Ibid., p. 175.

Bibliography Adiebo, Kimo, et al., “Public Expenditures in South Sudan: Are They Delivering?” World Bank Economic Brief, Issue 2, February 2013. Autesserre, Severine, The Trouble with the Congo (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010). Bargués-​Pedreny, Pol, Deferring Peace in International Statebuilding: Difference, Resilience and Critique (Oxon, UK: Routledge, 2018). Björkdahl, Annika et al. (eds.), Peacebuilding and Friction: Global and Local Encounters in Post-​ Conflict Societies (New York: Routledge, 2016). Boege, Volker and Charles T. Hunt, “On ‘traveling traditions’: Emplaced security in Liberia and Vanuatu,” Cooperation and Conflict (2020): 1–​21. Budget for the United Nations Mission in South Sudan for the period from 1 July 2011 to 30 June 2012: Report of the Secretary-​General, A/​66/​532, 2011. Chandler, David, International Statebuilding (Oxon: Routledge, 2010). Chandler, David, Resilience:The Governance of Complexity (Oxon: Routledge, 2014). Cheng, Christine, Jonathan Goodhand, and Patrick Meehan, “Securing and Sustaining Elite Bargains That Reduce Violent Conflict,” UK Stabilisation Unit Synthesis Paper, April 2018. Clemens,Walter C., Complexity Science and World Affairs (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2013). Coleman, Peter, et al., Attracted to Conflict: Dynamic Foundations of Destructive Social Relations (New York: Springer, 2013). Country Programme Action Plan between the Government of the Republic of South Sudan and the UN Development Programme (2012-​ 2013). Available at www.ss.undp.org/​ cont​ent/​dam/​sou​thsu​dan/​libr​ary/​Repo​r ts/​south​suda​noth​erdo​cume​nts/​UNDP%20So​ uth%20Sud​an_​C​PAP%202​012-​2013%20Fin%20%20Sig​ned.pdf Day, Adam, “Assessing the Effectiveness of the UN Mission in South Sudan,” Norwegian Institute of International Affairs, March 2019. Available at https://​effect​ivep​eace​ops.net/​ unm​iss/​ Day, Adam, “To Build Consent in UN Peace Operations, Turn Mandates Upside Down,” UN University Centre for Policy Research, 2017.Day, Adam, Dirk Druit, and Luise

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Quaritsch, “When Dictators Fall: Preventing Violent Conflict During Transitions from Authoritarian Rule,” United Nations University Centre for Policy Research, May 2020. De Coning, Cedric, “From Peacebuilding to Sustaining Peace: Implications of Complexity for Resilience and Sustainability,” Resilience, vol. 4, no.3 (2016): 166–​181. De Waal, Alex, The Real Politics of the Horn of Africa: Money, War and the Business of Power (London: Polity Press, 2016). de Waal, Alex, “When Kleptocracy Becomes Insolvent: Brute Causes of the Civil War in South Sudan,” African Affairs, vol. 113, no. 452 (2014). Dowden, Richard, “South Sudan’s Leaders Have Learnt Nothing from 50 Years of Independence in Africa,” African Arguments (22 January 2014). El-​Batahani, Atta, Ibrahim A. Elbadawi, and Ali Abdel Gadir Ali, “Sudan’s Civil War.Why Has It Prevailed for So Long?” in Understanding Civil War: Evidence and Analysis,Vol. 1 –​Africa, eds. Nicholas Sambanis and Paul Collier (Washington, DC: World Bank 2005). Fetherston,A. B. and Carolyn Nordstrom,“Overcoming Habitus in Conflict Management: UN Peacekeeping and War Zone Ethnography,” Peace & Change, vol. 20, no. 1 (1995): 94–​119. Ghani, Ashraf and Clare Lockhardt, Fixing Failed States (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009). Harragin, Simon, “Waiting for Pay-​ Day: Anthropological Research on Local-​ level Governance Structures in South Sudan,” Save the Children Report, 2007. Hunt, Charles T., “Beyond the Binaries: Towards a Relational Approach to Peacebuilding,” Global Change, Peace & Security, vol. 29, no. 3 (2017): 209–​227. International Development Association and International Finance Corporation, “South Sudan –​Interim Strategy Note for FY2013-​2014,” Report No: 74767-​SS, World Bank (30 January 2013): 5 International Monetary Fund, Sudan: Selected Issues Paper, no 12/​299, November 2012. Available at www.imf.org/​exter​nal/​pubs/​ft/​scr/​2012/​cr12​299.pdf Johnson, Douglas H., “Federalism in the History of South Sudanese Political Thought,” in Struggle for South Sudan: Challenges of Security and State Formation, eds. Luka Biong Deng Kuol and Sarah Logan (London: I.B. Tauris, 2019): 103–​123. Johnson, Douglas H., The Root Causes of Sudan’s Civil Wars (Oxford: James Currey Press, 2003). Johnson, Hilde F., “In South Sudan, Old Feuds Test a New State,” Sudan Tribune, 1 February 2012. Johnson, Hilde F., South Sudan: The Untold Story from Independence to Civil War (London: L.B. Tauris, 2016). Kuol, Luka Biong Deng, “The Federalism-​Decentralisation-​Peace Nexus in South Sudan,” in The Struggle for South Sudan: Challenges of Security and State Formation, eds. Luka Biong Deng Kuol and Sarah Logan (London: I.B. Tauris, 2019): 82–​102. Lacher, Wolfram, “South Sudan: International State-​ Building and Its Limits,” German Institute for International and Security Affairs (2012). Larson, Ajak, and Lant Pritchett, “South Sudan’s Capability Trap”; Fiona Davies, Gregory Smith and Tim Williamson, “Coordinating Post-​ Conflict Aid in Southern Sudan,” Overseas Development Institute, September 2011. LeRiche, Matthew, “Conflict Governance: The SPLA, factionalism, and peacemaking,” in The Challenge of Governance in South Sudan, eds. Steven C. Roach and Derrick K. Hudson (Routledge: London, 2019): 31–​70. Lederach, John Paul, The Moral Imagination:The Art and Soul of Building Peace (NewYork: Oxford University Press, 2005). Leonardi, Cherry, Dealing with Government in South Sudan: Histories of Chiefship, Community and State (Oxford: James Currey Press, 2015).

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Lino, Edward, “There Was No Coup in Juba,” 9 February 2014. Available at https://​paan​luel​ wel.com/​2014/​02/​09/​edw​ard-​lino-​there-​was-​no-​coup-​in-​juba/​ Mac Ginty, Roger and Oliver Richmond, “The Local Turn in Peacebuilding: A Critical Agenda for Peace,” Third World Quarterly, vol. 34, no. 5 (2013): 763–​783. Management Systems International (MSI). “Government of Southern Sudan: Functional Capacity Prioritization Study.” USAID, December 3, 2009. Mores, Magali,“Overview of Corruption and Anti-​Corruption in South Sudan,” Transparency International, 4 March 2013. Office of the Secretary-​General, “Special Report of the Secretary-​General on the Sudan,” S/​ 2011/​314, United Nations Security Council, UNMIS (17 May 2011), para 41(e). Overseas Development Institute Briefing Paper, “Planning and Budgeting in South Sudan: Starting from Scratch” (October 2010). Available at www.odi.org/​sites/​odi.org. uk/​files/​odi-​ass​ets/​publi​cati​ons-​opin​ion-​files/​6093.pdf Patey, Luke, “Crude Days Ahead? Oil and the Resource Curse in Sudan,” African Affairs 109/​ 437 (2010): 617–​636. Pendle, Naomi and Chirrilo Madut Anei, “Wartime Trade and the Reshaping of Power in South Sudan,” South Sudan Customary Authorities Project, Rift Valley Institute, 2018. Pinaud, Clémence, “South Sudan: Civil War, Predation and The Making of a Military Aristocracy,” African Affairs, vol. 113, no. 451 (2014): 192–​211. Podder, Sukanya, “Mainstreaming the non-​ state,” Conflict, Security and Development (2014): 213–​243. Putting Resilience at the Heart of Development, UN Development Programme Report, 2015. Report of the United Nations Secretary-​General on the Situation in South Sudan, S/​2012/​ 140 (March 2012); Written Evidence of UK International Development Committee, 11 April 2012, available at www.publi​cati​ons.par​liam​ent.uk/​pa/​cm201​012/​cmsel​ect/​cmint​ dev/​1570/​1570w​e08.htm Report of the United Nations Secretary-​General on the Situation in South Sudan, S/​2012/​ 746 (8 October 2012), para 5. Sabaratnam, Meera, “Avatars of Eurocentrism in the Critique of the Liberal Peace,” Security Dialogue 44 (3) (2013): 259–​278. Scott, James C., Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts (New Haven, CT:Yale University Press, 1998). Shankleman, Jill, “Oil and State-​Building in South Sudan,” United States Institute of Peace, July 2011. Sudan Tribune, ‘Paulino Matip Nhial Nyaak, General’, August 2012. Available at www.sudan​ trib​une.com/​spip.php?mot1​948 Szeftel, Morris, ‘Between Governance and Underdevelopment: Accumulation and Africa’s “Catastrophic Corruption,”’ Review of African Political Economy 27, 84 (2000): 302. The Challenge of Sustaining Peace: Report of the Advisory Group of Experts for the 2015 Review of the United Nations Peacebuilding Architecture, New York: United Nations, 2015. Thomas, Edward, South Sudan: A Slow Liberation (London: Zed Books, 2015). United Nations Secretary-​General’s Report on South Sudan, S/​2012/​486 (2012). United Nations Security Council resolution on the situation in South Sudan, S/​RES/​1996 (2011) 3. World Bank, “Southern Sudan: Enabling the State: Estimating the non-​ Oil Revenue Potential of State and Local Governments” (Washington, 2010). World Bank, “South Sudan Overview” 2013. Available at www.worldb​ank.org/​en/​coun​try/​ sou​thsu​dan/​overv​iew=​

11 UNAMA AMIDST COUNTER-​TERROR AND COUNTERINSURGENCY No Peace Left to Keep Ashley Jackson

Introduction The United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (UNAMA) has been one of the more complex and politically fraught UN missions in living memory. From UNAMA’s creation in 2002, the mission’s structure and objectives were the product of competing tensions, objectives, and narratives about the future of Afghanistan. But UNAMA, with its initial “light footprint” approach, was also shaped by a broader conceptual and actual shift in thinking and operations around peacebuilding. As security deteriorated, the gulf between UNAMA’s mandate and its ability to deliver on those objectives progressively widened.This chapter examines UNAMA during the United States (US)-​led military surge, from December 2009 through the drawdown of those forces and the handover of security responsibility to Afghan forces at the end of 2014. This period marked the most intense military activity and conflict-​related violence since the start of the intervention. UNAMA, its credibility in tatters after the 2009 electoral crisis, came under intense political pressure to support US-​led counterinsurgency efforts. Yet what precisely this meant, and the internal logic of the surge itself, was deeply contested. The following chapter situates UNAMA within a diverse, dynamic constellation of actors, institutions and personalities, both within and outside the UN system, all grappling with how to “stabilise” and “support” Afghanistan. In so doing, it argues that UNAMA was deeply constrained by a set of formal and informal processes, competing narratives and divergent interests within an exceedingly complex operating environment. During the surge era, it became increasingly clear that the incentives created by the international intervention drove behaviours and empowered institutions that undermined and actively sabotaged the prospects for stability and democratic governance. This chapter places UNAMA in that context, asking what it might have done differently given the enormous structural obstacles DOI: 10.4324/9781003248637-13

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and perverse incentive structures. It begins by describing UNAMA’s inception and early years before examining UNAMA’s role during the surge. Given UNAMA’s broad mandate during this period, it loosely focuses on the mission’s aid coordination, political affairs and governance work. It then re-​examines the good governance and institution-​building agenda, concluding that UNAMA’s mandate was based on a series of faulty assumptions about the political logic of the international community and the Afghan state. Ultimately, this chapter concludes that UNAMA’s –​and the wider international community’s –​refusal to engage with the real Afghan political economy committed the mission to inappropriate, unachievable objectives. As the conflict worsened, the gulf between the ideals and assumptions embodied in the UNAMA mandate and the reality on the ground widened. While the drivers of the crisis were political, UNAMA and the donors stubbornly persisted in applying technical solutions. Even profoundly political issues, such as subnational governance, justice and corruption, were addressed with technical fixes. While UNAMA and various international actors might have disagreed about the right strategy, these differences seem relatively inconsequential in retrospect. UNAMA and the wider international community were united in their collective agreement that the “politics” could be surmounted. This refusal to engage with the real politics was perhaps necessary to upholding the mission itself. By separating politics from the technical aspects of statebuilding, UNAMA was able to ignore fundamental questions around the interests of the Afghan state and the UN’s limited power to influence it.

UNAMA’s Inception and Early Years After the events of 9/​11 and the subsequent US military invasion of Afghanistan, the Taliban government disintegrated within months, leaving a power vacuum inside the country. At the Bonn Conference in December 2001, the international community brought together a number of Afghan political and military actors to lay out a roadmap for the future. The resulting Bonn Agreement established an Afghan transitional authority to be assisted by an UN-​mandated security international force. Loya jirgas, or traditional assemblies, held inside Afghanistan were meant to solidify domestic political consensus and support for the path ahead. It is important to point out that the Bonn Agreement was staunchly forward-​ looking and not a peace agreement per se. The Bonn Conference had not included any representatives from the Taliban, and the resulting agreement did not contain any meaningful transitional justice component to address the effects of the preceding decades of conflict. Instead, the Bonn Agreement and associated political processes portrayed Afghanistan as a country where society and institutions had been effectively destroyed and would have to be built again.1 Because Afghanistan was effectively a blank slate upon which the international community could erect new, democratic structures and forms of governance, there was little expectation of resistance or subversion. This approach did not, for example, engage with the political economy that had developed over the preceding decades of conflict and tumult,

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and the vested interests that promulgated it –​or how it might pose a challenge to the realisation of this new vision of Afghanistan.2 Instead, there appeared to be an underlying assumption that these problematic dynamics would disappear along with the Taliban. Although UN involvement in Afghanistan dates back to 1946, the preceding UN mission –​the UN Special Mission to Afghanistan, established in 1993 –​had been forced to close by the Taliban in February 2001. UNAMA was thus not established until late in the course of post-​Taliban political events, in March 2002. As a special political mission, UNAMA’s initial mandate was relatively narrow: it focused on supporting the transitional authority, implementing the Bonn Agreement and coordinating humanitarian and reconstruction efforts. From the start, UNAMA was but one of many players with diverging interests, capacities and constraints in post-​Taliban Afghanistan. Primary among these players were international military forces. Given the complexity and shifting nature of the international military intervention, it is worth pausing for a moment to examine its structure and evolution. What began as a US-​led invasion in October 2001 then morphed into a coalition and eventually a multidimensional force mandated by the UN Security Council in December 2001. The International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) evolved significantly in the early years of the intervention. Initially under UK command, the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) assumed control of ISAF in August 2003. ISAF forces would ultimately comprise troops from more than 50 countries, each with its own chains of command and rules of engagement. In addition, most US forces remained largely outside of this chain of command until later in the intervention, although they (in theory, if not always in practice) coordinated with ISAF. Finally, while the UN Security Council authorised ISAF, ISAF was not under UNAMA’s leadership (as was more common with regard to UN peacekeeping missions at the time). Instead, ISAF and UNAMA’s roles were envisioned as separate albeit complementary. They were expected to act in step with one another and in support of the nascent Afghan government. Within all of this, the US predictably played an outsized role, effectively dictating the nature of the international military and aid effort. From the outset, the US wanted to avoid a heavy and prolonged military presence. That desire set firm boundaries on the kind of international intervention permitted in Afghanistan. Statebuilding, from the US perspective, was out of the question, in part because it was seen as certain to result in a long-​term, entrenched US military presence.Then-​ Secretary of Defence Donald Rumsfeld and others instead advocated for a light footprint approach. In the initial invasion, the US relied on Special Forces, airstrikes and support (in the form of both cash and military assistance) to anti-​Taliban proxy forces on the ground. Within the UN, there was also hesitancy about getting too deeply involved and UNAMA was designed to have a “light footprint approach”. Chief among the advocates for this approach was Lakhdar Brahimi, the UN’s Special Envoy to Afghanistan. Among other things, Brahimi argued that a more limited UN role better aligned to the principle of self-​determination, would “allow Afghans

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themselves to lead reconstruction and nation-​building efforts”.3 Others wanted to limit the UN’s footprint and mandate in the hopes of avoiding a repeat of the UN’s failures in Somalia and the Balkans.4 Hailed at the time as a progressive shift in peacekeeping thinking, the UN’s “light footprint” discourse also fitted neatly with US insistence that the intervention be limited and Afghan-​led. The initial UNAMA mandate highlights the importance of quick impact projects and the Afghan government taking the lead as soon as possible. The push for UN activities to be limited to “locally appropriate” interventions5 meant that international staff numbers and UNAMA’s initial geographic presence were limited. But how transitioning to Afghans “taking the lead” would be planned and managed were never clearly articulated. In reality, there was a profound disconnect between the assumption that nascent Afghan institutions would be able to “take the lead”, and the multitude of governance, reconstruction and security challenges on the ground. “We wanted to hand over and get out quickly, all in the name of empowering Afghans”, said one former UN and US government official. And yet these people had just been through famine, there had been decades of war, you had a shaky interim administration but no actual government, and a bunch of warlords running around the country, doing whatever they wanted with the full backing of US forces.6 In late 2001, the US partly relied on local strongmen and mujahedeen to oust the Taliban. This backing carried over into the Bonn process and deepened in the following years. In fact, reliance on these figures is what allowed the US to maintain a limited presence on the ground. This support, in turn, enabled these figures to assert themselves within nascent political negotiations and state-​building processes. Reticent to upset a fragile political process, Brahimi effectively fell into line with the US approach and helped elevate the mujahedeen leaders’ role in the interim government. Brahimi later argued that a trade-​off had to be made between prioritising peace and political stability (which required accommodating the strongmen) over accountability and justice.7 While some might blame the flaws of the Bonn Agreement for these outcomes, a counterargument is that Brahimi could not have done much to influence US policy anyway. Either way, the Bonn process enshrined a form of exclusionary politics that set the stage for renewed conflict. The Taliban began to re-​emerge in late 2002 and 2003 but arguably did not present a severe threat to security until around 2006. Scattered hit-​and-​run attacks and assassinations became a more significant threat, with suicide attacks and improvised explosive devices (IEDs) increasingly frequent. The US and the NATO mission responded by increasing patrols and operations in areas of established presence and sending more troops to insecure areas. This expansion of foreign military activity had the opposite of its intended effect. Instead of shoring up security, expanded troop presence and a more aggressive posture inflamed local grievances and suspicion towards international forces.8 The increased presence of international forces

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also inadvertently gave the Taliban more opportunities to strike.9 As insecurity spread, military forces nevertheless continued to expand. ISAF’s remit had initially been limited to Kabul and Bagram airbase but, by October 2006, it was extended to cover the entire country. ISAF numbers increased from 9,000 in 2005 to approximately 30,000 by the end of 2006.10 International forces’ reliance on local power brokers for intelligence, support and security deepened. That the US and its allies were unable to establish responsive government institutions was both a cause and consequence of this dependence. These powerbrokers perpetrated widespread abuses against civilians while enjoying international protection and favour. This set the stage for a vicious cycle, as these actors, in turn, undermined the legitimacy of both international forces and the Afghan government, and fuelled civilian fear and anger.11 As part of efforts to stabilise the country and fill the governance gap, the US and its allies established Provincial Reconstruction Teams (PRTs). PRTs were civil-​military units meant to coordinate reconstruction with the UN and NGOs, premised on the idea that aid and development would support Afghan government expansion and legitimacy. The US established the first PRT in 2002; by 2006, 22 PRTs were operational, most led by the US.12 PRTs were seen as a state-​building-​ lite solution to the governance vacuum and lag in aid efforts, jumpstarting reconstruction until Afghans could “take the lead”. UNAMA recognised that PRTs had little expertise or capacity to fill the gap left by state institutions, and anticipated the problems that would result. Beginning in 2003, UNAMA had attempted to coordinate and redirect PRT’s desperate efforts towards more strategic and impactful engagement, focused on security sector reform. This was unsuccessful. While the US government increasingly recognised that some form of state-​building was required, they were unwilling to commit to deeper forms of engagement or a fundamental shift in strategy. Aid channelled through PRTs increased.13 As Barbara Stapleton surmises, PRTs “effectively enabled the promotion of an appearance of progress, which distracted from the dire state of governance in many provinces, but about which there was little if any political will, either nationally or internationally, to take more effective action”.14 In the end, the majority of donor funds pledged for Afghan reconstruction would ultimately go through the military, including PRTs.15 This would have significant implications for UNAMA’s ability to coordinate aid efforts and, perhaps more importantly, the intervention as a whole. In step with the international intervention as a whole, UNAMA’s footprint16 and scope progressively expanded. The initial resolution authorising UNAMA (S/​RES/​1401) in 2002 contained eight articles; the 2006 UNAMA reauthorisation contained 21 articles (S/​RES/​1662). By 2010, UNAMA’s mandate included 41 articles, covering electoral support, counter-​ narcotics, regional cooperation, peacebuilding efforts, anti-​ corruption, combating Al Qaeda’s presence, justice reform, civil-​ military coordination and a range of other international priorities. UNAMA’s mandate (often referred to as a “Christmas tree” mandate for its breadth) would have been ambitious even under the best of circumstances. But as

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the Taliban insurgency gathered strength and security deteriorated, the dilemmas and challenges UNAMA faced in delivering sharply intensified.

UNAMA amid the Surge By 2009, the Taliban insurgency posed a formidable threat to the Afghan state-​ building project. The US government undertook a wide-​ranging Afghan policy review. Late that year, President Barack Obama announced a revised US military and diplomatic strategy in Afghanistan. Modelled on a similar military surge in Iraq, rapid increase in troops, civilian expertise and aid was designed rapidly to halt and reverse the Taliban’s momentum. The US deployed 33,000 additional combat soldiers to Afghanistan, bringing the total US troop count to over 100,000 by mid-​ 2011. The surge was accompanied by the complementary “civilian uplift”, which increased the number of US civilian advisors from approximately 300 to 1,000 and a significant increase in aid meant to strengthen local governance and legitimacy. Aid also significantly increased: US reconstruction spending in 2010 alone was equivalent to more than 100 per cent of Afghanistan’s gross domestic product (GDP).17 The military surge itself would only last 18 months. International forces would steadily decrease from July 2011 onwards, returning to pre-​surge levels by October 2012 and then progressively declining. By 2014, Afghan forces would assume responsibility for security while the NATO presence would revert to an advisory and support function. The US and other troop-​contributing countries publicly asserted that this transition to Afghan responsibility for security would be conditions-​based.18 Security would improve, and Afghan forces would become less reliant on international support as their capacity increased. Behind closed doors, the US government logic was slightly different. US planners bargained that, within the 18-​month time frame, this approach would either be successful enough to scale back and hand over to Afghan forces or “enough of a failure to justify pulling those resources back anyway”.19 UNAMA was expected to support and coordinate this effort, yet this was also something of a test. UNAMA’s standing with the international community and its relationship with the Afghan government was badly damaged by the 2009 electoral crisis. As the first elections run by the Afghan state, the 2009 presidential and parliamentary elections were seen as a critical good governance milestone and as an indicator of democratic consolidation in Afghanistan. UNAMA’s role in the process was to support a free and fair process, at the request of the Afghan government. Widespread reports of fraud quickly emerged on voting day. This, in itself, was not surprising. There had been serious allegations of fraud in earlier elections, and the international community and Afghan government had done little to address core issues in the electoral process.20 While the UN, along with the US, European Union (EU) and other key donor governments, endorsed the first round, there was heated debate within UNAMA about the right course of action. Deputy Special Representative of the Secretary-​General (SRSG) Peter Galbraith urged SRSG Kai

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Eide to take a harder line with the Karzai government and take more direct action to address the fraud. This became public knowledge when a letter from deputy SRSG Peter Galbraith to UN Secretary-​General Ban Ki-​moon was leaked to the press. Galbraith accused Eide of downplaying fraud and refusing to take action. After Galbraith was fired, he claimed that at least one-​third of Karzai’s votes were fraudulent and accused Eide of perpetrating a cover-​up.21 Galbraith’s accusations were damning for Eide, UNAMA and the Afghan government.There were calls for Eide to step down and the UN mission to be restructured.22 Weeks later, as the vote headed into a run-​off, the Taliban targeted the Bakhtar guest house in Kabul, widely known to house UN election monitors. Over the course of more than six hours, attackers killed five UN staff, two Afghan security personnel and an Afghan civilian. Afghan security forces and ISAF took over an hour to respond.23 In the aftermath, it emerged that Afghan security forces likely killed several of the victims and that the Afghan government had not shared with the UN intelligence reports that indicated an attack on UN staff was likely. Karzai’s main rival, Abdullah Abdullah, subsequently withdrew from the run-​off. Karzai –​who had resisted a second round –​was officially declared the winner. He nevertheless blamed the UN for marring an election he claimed to have won fairly. While the election crisis was technically resolved, the electoral process suffered damage from which it would never fully recover. In later years, little meaningful electoral reform took place, voter turnout progressively declined and allegations of widespread fraud would become the norm. At the time, many felt that UNAMA would have to reassert and redeem itself during the surge or risk irrelevance.24 However, its influence over the US strategy and its implementation was minimal. In effect, the US simply expected UNAMA to fall into line. The US’s attitude in this respect was not unique to the UN. Even seemingly influential allied governments, such as the UK, had little meaningful influence over US policy during this period.25 But it nevertheless left UNAMA in the position of reacting and responding to policies they had little role in crafting –​ and dealing with their consequences. The surge in troops, money and political attention inevitably undermined UNAMA’s role in coordination. Part of the problem was that the number of entities attempting to play some sort of civilian coordination role dramatically multiplied. The EU Special Representative tried to coordinate EU member state activities, even if each of these member states had its sectoral, political and geographic priorities on the ground. The NATO Senior Civilian Representative (SCR) ostensibly coordinated the efforts of PRTs. Alongside this, various countries appointed high-​ level Special Representatives for Afghanistan-​Pakistan (SRAPs) to coordinate their own national military and civilian efforts during the surge. While coordination meetings were plentiful, genuine coordinated actions were scarce. As each of these actors attempted to “own” some piece of international coordination, they were not only wrangling with each other but often with their own internal constituencies. The EU’s role existed alongside member states, many of which had troops on the ground, significant diplomatic and aid presences, and

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divergent strategies and approaches. The NATO SCR faced similar issues: PRT strategies were dictated by host nation imperatives and positions. These divergent national strategies were decided not in Kabul but in donor capitals, which limited the role that any high level diplomat based in Afghanistan might have in influencing them.Yet even the SCRs from troop-​contributing countries were often limited by the internal infighting and conflicting interests among (and within) various ministries and departments and among their military forces. Another challenge to genuine coordination was the lack of strategic coherence. Much of the aid up until and through the surge period was bilateral. The Afghanistan Compact agreed in 2006, and the Afghanistan National Development Strategy, decided in 2008, had outlined shared objectives and ambitious benchmarks to which donors had pledged billions. In reality, donors continued to plan, spend and allocate funding with little meaningful alignment to these plans and outside of Afghan government structures. In 2010, 80 per cent of civilian aid still bypassed the government.26 Donors widely acknowledged that more money needed to go through the government. But they felt that concerns about corruption and lack of capacity made this infeasible, and repeatedly called on UNAMA to play a more significant role in oversight, anti-​corruption and coordination.27 During the surge, little attention was paid to impact. Instead, there was enormous pressure to disburse funding quickly (referred to as high “burn rates”). According to one official working for the US Agency for International Development (USAID), “The strategy was ‘money expended equals success.’ ”28 Particularly during the surge, the majority of aid money was flowing through the US military or other military actors via a mix of PRTs, contractors and other entities. Between 2002 and 2021, the US government directed approximately 12 per cent of reconstruction assistance through the Afghan government.29 The US military tasked more and more of their troops to engage in governance and reconstruction, drawing on the Commanders’ Emergency Response Program (CERP) funds. Aid was envisioned as “a nonlethal weapon” utilised to “win the hearts and minds of the indigenous population to facilitate defeating the insurgents”.30 The problems associated with the PRTs –​short rotations with little institutional memory, lack of relevant training and oversight, the pressure to spend money quickly, no overarching strategy or effective coordination31 –​significantly worsened. There are no centralised, comprehensive records of PRT interventions. This was partly because each country operated different PRTs, following different strategies and procedures. US PRT staff, for example, told US auditors that their focus was on funding projects and not monitoring their implementation. Auditors, in turn, found that project files were either incomplete or non-​existent.32 Some PRTs, as a matter of policy, destroyed any documentation before the end of their rotation for security or legal reasons. This left their successors with no record of contracts, agreements or project documents. Incoming officials at one PRT resorted to approaching village elders and local contractors to ask what activities had been pursued by the previous rotation.33

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In theory, UNAMA was expected to promote coordination through provincial governments and assist them in developing provincial development plans. This was difficult to do when PRTs and other military actors were spending vast amounts of money unaligned with the strategies and systems they were trying to build, and keeping little to no records of what they had done. The question of PRTs or other military-​aid initiatives reporting on their activities, let alone aligning them with national plans, was a practical impossibility given how they operated. At the same time, there were significant problems with the processes UNAMA was attempting to propagate.These provincial processes were not joined up to national government budgeting processes, meaning that disbursements from the central government would rarely correspond to requests from the provincial government. It made little sense to draft a provincial plan if the provincial government (a) could not depend on the central government to fund their requests and (b) if the majority of the aid at the provincial level was planned and disbursed outside these systems. All of this rendered UNAMA’s role in aid coordination writ large increasingly irrelevant as the surge progressed. UNAMA attempted to play a liaison role between donors and the Afghan government at the national and international levels, convening successive international pledging conferences meant to cultivate a more joined-​up approach. They worked with the Afghan government to develop plans and strategies to guide donor involvement, urged donors to share more information, and pushed for on-​budget support. Unfortunately, much of the strategies UNAMA helped shape were disconnected from ground realities. Benchmarks for progress and Afghan government commitments, often pushed for by donors, were typically unrealistic. They over-​promised what could reasonably be achieved and ignored the political constraints within which donors and the Afghan government operated. UNAMA’s mandate was premised on the assumption that coordination was essential to achieving the objectives of democratic consolidation and reconstruction. It also contained an implicit assumption that a diverse range of actors with varying interests and objectives would agree to be coordinated and align their action with the strategies they had participated in drafting. Coordination encompasses a wide range of activities, from designing and leading strategy to simply furthering the flow of information among actors and seeking to avoid overlap. Regardless of the parameters, coordination requires a willingness from others to be coordinated. Without that, UNAMA could only count on occasional limited wins. Further, UNAMA was seen as partly responsible for the resulting “lack of coordination”. When it came to implementing the surge strategy on the ground, UNAMA was seen by US forces and the US government as typically too slow and bureaucratic to effectively “coordinate” the aid community. US military actors and diplomats became increasingly frustrated when the UN could not help “deliver” on US plans and objectives. It was consequently often disregarded and relegated to the role of bystander. Civilian weakness was repeatedly faulted for military or strategic failures, with UNAMA bearing much blame.34

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Good Governance Re-​examined It is easy to blame insecurity, bureaucracy and the US-​driven nature of the surge for much of UNAMA’s challenges during this period.Yet there are more profound questions to explore about the limits of what UNAMA could have achieved in its relationship with the Afghan government. UNAMA’s mandate was premised on a shared interest among donors and the Afghan government in, among other things, institution-​building and good governance. This was based on the widely held assumption that democracy and open, responsive governance are central to peace and stability. However, this logic of democratic governance was fundamentally at odds with the political logic of the post-​2001 Afghan state. After Bonn, then-​interim president Karzai had relied not on elections or meritocratic processes to establish legitimacy. He instead leveraged the international community’s resources and support to cultivate a patchwork of resource-​centric elite bargains. They formed the basis of his political power (and, arguably, his legitimacy), and he used the state to shore up and consolidate and maintain these bargains. Throughout his two terms as president, Karzai used the appointment of provincial governors, ministers and other key positions to solidify these bargains. He awarded key governorships and ministries to figures who had little interest in building strong institutions, good governance or responding to the population’s needs. They made up for what they lacked in meritocratic terms with coercive power. Of the first group of appointed governors, twenty of the thirty-​two appointed were strongmen, former militia leaders or mujahedeen, or warlords.35 Many of these actors were among the US’s earliest partners after 9/​ 11 in Afghanistan.They, too, had leveraged international support to cultivate post-​Taliban legitimacy. International favour, particularly alliances with international military forces, allowed them to capture land, rents and resources. These actors wanted a stake in the state primarily because it provided opportunities to access rents and legitimacy (which provided even more potential access to rents). Securing a role in government enabled these individuals to capture more resources to strengthen their political and economic position. In some provinces, subnational government institutions were structured and staffed based on their loyalty and accountability to a single person or network rather than the central government and the populace.36 These figures used the financial resources and political power they accrued to further their own objectives, often at the cost of the Afghan state and population. That included drug production and trafficking, land grabs, extortion and settling scores with perceived enemies –​all of which undermined the rule of law and exacerbated insecurity. They also drew on US resources and backing to leverage influence with the new central government.The more power these figures assumed on the ground, the more leverage they had in influencing formal processes, creating a mutually reinforcing cycle. In short, these transactional bargains were volatile, subject to continual fluctuations and renegotiation. Political analyst Timor Sharan has referred to this as a networked state where personality-​based patronage “constitute[s]‌the state”. The state itself functions as

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an arena of “contestation and negotiation by different networked elites who use[d] state resources to promote and expand their networked interests within and outside the state”.37 In short, UNAMA and the international community effectively supported a host government that operated according to a logic counter to their stated objectives. The Afghan state, or more precisely the actors and networks that comprised it, had no genuine interest in the governance and institution-​building aspects of the UNAMA mandate.Worse yet, the exclusionary nature of government itself was actively perpetuating conflict and insecurity. The international community recognised that poor governance played a role in perpetuating the conflict. This is reflected in the central supposition of the surge strategy: that more responsive, visible and accountable government institutions, particularly at the subnational level, would lead to improvements in the security situation. The governance aspects of the surge were designed to create “capacity” and other technical fixes. It was assumed that good governance could be cultivated quickly via more aid and increased military presence and activity. Good governance was envisioned as spreading like an inkblot: news would travel of responsive services, increasing demand and enhancing the government’s legitimacy. As it played out, injecting large amounts of cash and resources further fuelled competition, violence and exclusionary politics. The king-​making role that international forces played in political competitions and the massive influx of money they brought with them cultivated what de Waal terms a “rentier political marketplace”.38 The rentier political marketplace in the Afghanistan context was characterised by pervasive rent-​seeking and intense, occasionally violent, competition among elite networks for access to critical revenue streams. Even in the US government’s view, corruption became endemic and rose to unprecedented levels due to US policies.39 Violence and volatility were most pronounced where international resources and presence were heavily concentrated. In other words, it was precisely where the international community wanted stable governance and security the most that their actions made things worse. Kai Eide, who served as SRSG from March 2008 through March 2010, publicly criticised the COIN approach, urging donors –​without explicitly calling out the US –​to rethink “quick-​impact, quick-​collapse projects”.40 Eide did not, at least publicly, dispute the premise of the surge. Instead, he critiqued the short-​term and overly militarised nature of it. In fact, Eide had a separate proposal. Working with Afghan government counterparts, he had already developed a parallel plan to build their civilian capacity and was actively lobbying for its funding.41 There’s a strange irony in that the US and UNAMA agreed that the root causes of instability and violence were political, and the solutions themselves had to be political. But the solutions that both sides pursued were fundamentally technical and did not engage with real politics. Both seemingly believed the politics could be surmounted, even if they disagreed on how that should be done. Focusing on policy and technical reform, rather than the politics, allowed UNAMA (and no doubt others) to avoid the realities of their limited influence. For UNAMA and the donor community, scattered policy “wins” masked the fact

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that governance institutions did not (and would likely never) function as donors intended them to. These wins included the passage of anti-​corruption policies (such as merit-​based civil service appointments) and notably the creation of the Independent Directorate of Local Governance (IDLG) in 2007. IDLG was meant to coordinate subnational governance issues and ultimately help address the lack of responsive, local inclusive governance, but itself became mired in bureaucratic and policy muddles. Afghan elites took advantage of the continued confusion, even as donors hired successive consultants to offer “technical assistance” and write more policies.42 Lack of capacity was a real problem, but it was also a covering tactic. Pritchett et al. highlight how isomorphic mimicry –​the adoption of institutional forms in weak states that simulate the appearance of institutions in strong, stable states –​ enables legitimacy in the eyes of the international community.43 In this instance, the IDLG simulated the appearance of an institution that ran according to a certain logic aligned to donor principles. This, however, merely camouflaged the fact that the institution served other objectives. IDLG, as it turned out, re-​institutionalised certain forms of patronage (namely the capture and redistribution of civil servant appointments) underneath a reform façade. Policies went unimplemented due to a lack of capacity, which required more funding and technical assistance, resulting in new policies that were never implemented. The underlying premise of this assistance was never fundamentally challenged, and resources continued to flow to and through the IDLG. There was a different iteration of this logic within the National Solidarity Programme (NSP). NSP aimed to extend the reach of the government and enhance its legitimacy in the eyes of its Afghans, via the delivery of rural infrastructure and enhanced access to essential services. NSP worked through NGOs, who in turn created Community Development Councils (CDCs). CDCs were similar to traditional village councils, or shuras, but they were created through formal election processes. Once elected, they identified and implemented local development projects, carried out with funding from the World Bank. NSP was designed to be transformative, fuelling the development of bottom-​up democracy and demand-​ driven governance. In reality, CDC elections were often another form of isomorphic mimicry, with the same old elders typically making decisions as they always had. NSP continued to be funded and extended (and later morphed into the Citizen’s Charter Afghanistan Programme under President Ghani), while questions of local governance, corruption and poor oversight went unaddressed and festered.44 Further, major donors and the UN tended to focus on individuals rather than the system as a whole. Many donors focused on finding specific ministers or politicians who could act as allies or proxies. Alex de Waal refers to these kinds of actors as “islands of integrity that choose, for whatever reason, to promote certain ideas and policies”. They might do so out of personal convictions, or they might believe that cultivating an image as “reform-​minded” or “honest” will serve them in other ways. In Afghanistan, policy reform was often pursued through partnerships with these “islands of integrity”. As de Waal warns, the permissive space that enabled these

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“islands” was only ever temporary and their impact limited. “Problematic” individuals were singled out in a similar way, with President Karzai a prime example. By 2009, US Ambassador Karl Eikenberry was warning his US government counterparts that “Karzai was not an adequate strategic partner”.45 It was a feeling that was becoming increasingly widespread, with Karzai seen as blocking or otherwise sabotaging international efforts and democratic governance.Within UNAMA, these feelings were particularly pronounced. “There was almost this attitude of ‘if we can get rid of Karzai, things will be better with Abdullah or Rasool or whomever, and we can maybe get this thing back on track’ ”, according to one political affairs officer.46 Karzai might not have been “an adequate strategic partner”, but his behaviour was a symptom rather than a cause. The problematisation of individuals enabled international actors to sidestep fundamental questions about the limits of their influence and more systematic challenges to their objectives. “Reporting was frustrating because it never seemed to go anywhere”, said one former political affairs officer. “Kabul [political affairs] rarely followed up, and it’s not clear that this analysis informed anyone at UNAMA’s course of action”.47 Frustration often derived from the sense that it could have helped shape or inform civil affairs, the rule of law or human rights work, but this kind of information sharing was neither systematically encouraged nor routine. There was a profound political understanding of ongoing dynamics, particularly across UNAMA’s more than twenty field offices. Yet it was not deployed to improve UNAMA’s other interventions in an integrated way. Others felt it was a broader symptom of UNAMA’s rudderlessness at the time. “Understanding the politics is only useful if you intend to engage with them”.48 There were other more prosaic, but no less consequential, aspects. Recruitment did not seem to typically prioritise candidates with the cultural, language and intellectual skills necessary to inform and implement UNAMA’s approach. New UNAMA staff members deployed to Afghanistan were given a week of pre-​deployment training outside the country and a week of orientation and administrative intake. However, they were not given much substantive preparation on Afghan culture or politics. This limited the degree to which new staff would understand the mission’s contextual challenges. Significant movement restrictions compounded these challenges. As insecurity spread, the UN’s reaction was to increase its fortifications and tighten restrictions. At the height of the surge, UNAMA staff could, in the words of one, “rarely get out of the compound to see what was actually going on”.49 Visiting, for example, a village to unobtrusively meet and hear from ordinary Afghans was out of the question in the majority of the country. UNAMA staff (typically less so than UN agency, funds and programmes’ staff) were increasingly bunkerised, unable to move to locations deemed insecure. When they did so, flak jackets and armoured vehicles typically encumbered them. “If I had followed DSS rules”, said one individual working at the UNAMA in Kabul at the time,“I wouldn’t have developed or sustained many truly meaningful contacts –​and without those personal relationships and interactions, how is one meant to even understand anything that is going on?”50 In Weigand and Anderson’s study of security trends in Afghanistan, UN workers

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said security rules made them “more conspicuous and less effective”, “hampers the work that we do” and “only serves to isolate us and makes us more vulnerable”.51 It reinforced the image of UNAMA and the broader UN as aligned to one side of a deepening conflict.52 A more insidious effect was that it disincentivised the kind of investment and deep understanding that might have helped UNAMA play a more impactful role. Staffing issues and movement restrictions might seem minor in comparison to the foundational challenges of UNAMA’s mandate but they are fundamentally related, as another means through which UNAMA insulated itself from contextual realities. The real question is if UNAMA’s mandate or mission was structured differently, would this have impacted the conduct or outcome of the surge? More broadly, could UNAMA have played a role in bringing about a different political outcome in Afghanistan? The answer in both cases is probably “not”. UNAMA, like the US and the rest of the international community, suffered from stubborn and self-​perpetuated delusions about what was required and the consequences of their own behaviour and policies. By separating politics from the technical aspects of state-​building, UNAMA was able to forestall questions around the nature of the power it wielded and its limitations. It would have been unreasonable to expect UNAMA to challenge the fundamental assumptions underpinning the surge, the wider state-​building project in Afghanistan and, ultimately, the War on Terror. It was, after all, those basic assumptions that justified and sustained UNAMA’s power and continued presence. If there is a key lesson to be learnt, perhaps it is that there are hard limits to UN influence and capacities. Under the Taliban, any role for the UN will be considerably more constrained than it has been in the past, and the domestic and geopolitics are no easier to navigate. The question now is whether the UN can work within its constraints and, in so doing, identify more realistic opportunities for political influence in Afghanistan.

Notes 1 Ashley Jackson, Seeing Like a Networked State: Subnational Governance in Afghanistan (London: Secure Livelihoods Research Consortium, 2016); Jürgen René Blum, et al., Paths between Peace and Public Service: A Comparative Analysis of Public Service Reform Trajectories in Postconflict Countries (Washington, DC: World Bank Group, 2019). 2 See Barnett R. Rubin, “The Political Economy of War and Peace in Afghanistan,” World Politics, vol. 28, no. 10 (2000): 1789–​803. 3 See Astri Suhrke,“The Case for a Light Footprint:The International Project in Afghanistan,” Anthony Hyman Memorial Lecture, School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London (2010). 4 Suhrke, “The Case for a Light Footprint: The International Project in Afghanistan.” 5 See Simon Chesterman, “Walking Softly in Afghanistan: The Future of UN State-​ Building.” Survival 44 (2002). 6 Phone interview, October 10, 2021. 7 Laura Secor, “The Pragmatist,” The Atlantic, June/​July (2004). 8 Ashley Jackson, “The Pragmatist,” Negotiating Survival: Civilian-​ Insurgent Relations in Afghanistan (London: Hurst & Co., 2021).

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9 Astri Suhrke, “A Contradictory Mission? NATO from Stabilization to Combat in Afghanistan.” International Peacekeeping, vol. 15, no. 2 (2008): 214–​36. 10 Figures from the SIPRI Multilateral Peace Operations Database. 11 Anand Gopal, The Battle for Afghanistan: Militancy and Conflict in Kandahar (Washington, DC: New America Foundation, 2010); Gilles Dorronsoro, The Taliban’s Winning Strategy in Afghanistan (Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 2009). 12 Special Inspector General for Afghanistan Reconstruction (SIGAR), What We Need to Learn: Lessons from Twenty Years of Afghanistan Reconstruction (Washington, DC: SIGAR, 2021). 13 Ibid. 14 Barbara Stapleton, “A Means to What End? Why PRTs are Peripheral to the Bigger Political Challenges in Afghanistan,” Journal of Military and Strategic Studies, vol. 10, no. 1 (2007): 2. 15 Jaroslav Petrik, “Provincial Reconstruction Teams in Afghanistan: Securitizing Aid through Developmentalizing the Military” in The Securitization of Foreign Aid, edited by Stephen Brown and Jörn Grävingholt, 163–​87 (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016). 16 The mission budget and field presence markedly increased from the early years of the intervention. Staffing numbers doubled, from 200 international civilian staff in 2003 to 417 by 2011. Figures from the SIPRI Multilateral Peace Operations Database 17 SIGAR, What We Need to Learn: Lessons from Twenty Years of Afghanistan Reconstruction (Washington, DC: SIGAR, 2021). 18 Mats Berdal, “NATO’s Landscape of the Mind: Stabilization and Statebuilding in Afghanistan.,” Ethnopolitics, July (2019): 1–​18. 19 SIGAR, What We Need to Learn, p. 30. 20 International Crisis Group, Afghanistan: Elections and the Crisis of Governance (Brussels: International Crisis Group, 2009). 21 Peter Galbraith, “The UN Isn’t Addressing Fraud in Afghan Election.” Washington Post 2009. 22 International Crisis Group, Afghanistan: Elections and the Crisis of Governance (Brussels: International Crisis Group, 2009). 23 See Kai Eide, Power Struggle over Afghanistan (New York: Skyhorse Publishing, 2012). 24 Rhoda Margesson, United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan: Background and Policy Issues (Washington, DC: Congressional Research Service, 2010). 25 Mats Berdal and Astri Suhrke “A Good Ally –​Norway and International Statebuilding in Afghanistan, 2001-​2014,” Journal of Strategic Studies, vol. 41, no. 1–​2 (2018): 61–​88. 26 Ministry of Finance, Islamic Republic of Afghanistan. “Development Cooperation Report.” (2010). 27 International Crisis Group, Aid and Conflict in Afghanistan (Brussels: International Crisis Group, 2011). 28 SIGAR, What We Need to Learn. 29 SIGAR, Quarterly Report to the United States Congress, January 31, 2021 (Washington, DC: SIGAR, 2021). 30 US Army Combined Arms Center, Commanders’ Guide to Money as aWeapons System:Tactics, Techniques and Procedures (Washington, DC: Department of the Army, 2009). 31 Paul Fishstein and Andrew Wilder, Winning Hearts and Minds? Examining the Relationship between Aid and Security in Afghanistan (Medford, MA: Tufts University, 2011). 32 SIGAR, Quarterly Report to the United States Congress, October 30, 2009 (Washington, DC: SIGAR, 2009).

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33 Ashley Jackson and Simone Haysom, The Search for Common Ground: Civil-​Military Relations in Afghanistan, 2002–​13 (London: Humanitarian Policy Group, 2013). 34 Iselin Hebbert Larsen, UNAMA in Afghanistan: Challenges and Opportunities in Peace-​ making, State-​building and Coordination (Oslo: NUPI, 2010). 35 Antonio Giustozzi, Koran, Kalashnikov, and Laptop: The Neo-​ Taliban Insurgency in Afghanistan (New York: Columbia University Press, 2008). 36 Jackson, Seeing like a Networked State. 37 Timor Sharan, “The Political Economy of the Networked State: the Post-​ 2001Afghanistan,” First Annual CASI Conference (2011): 2–​3. 38 Alex de Waal “Mission without End? Peacekeeping in the African Political Marketplace,” International Affairs, vol. 5, no. 1 (2009). 39 SIGAR, Corruption in Conflict: Lessons from the US Experience in Afghanistan (Washington, DC: SIGAR, 2016). 40 See https://​unama.unm​issi​ons.org/​statem​ent-​kai-​eide-​spec​ial-​rep​rese​ntat​ive-​secret​ary-​ gene​ral-​afgh​anis​tan-​1. 41 Eide, Power Struggle over Afghanistan. 42 See also Frances Z. Brown, Aiding Afghan Local Governance:What Went Wrong? (Washington, DC: US Institute of Peace, 2021). 43 Lant Pritchett, et al., Capability Traps? The Mechanisms of Persistent Implementation Failure (Washington, DC: Center for Global Development, 2010). 44 Jennifer Brick Murtazashvili, Informal Order and the State in Afghanistan (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016). 45 US Department of State, “Cable: Secret, COIN Strategy Civilian Concerns,” November 6, 2009, via Wikileaks. 46 Phone interview, October 9, 2021. 47 Phone interview with a former UNAMA political affairs assistant, November 9, 2021. 48 Phone interview with a former UNAMA political affairs officer, November 10, 2021. 49 Phone interview with a former rule of law officer, December 10, 2021. 50 Phone interview with a former UN official, December 13, 2021. 51 Florian Weigand & Ruben Andersson, “Institutionalized Intervention: The ‘Bunker Politics’ of International Aid in Afghanistan,” Journal of Intervention and Statebuilding, vol. 3, no. 4 (2019): 8. 52 Antonio Donini, Afghanistan: Humanitarianism Unravelled? (Medford, MA: Tufts University, 2010).

Bibliography Berdal, Mats,“NATO’s Landscape of the Mind: Stabilisation and Statebuilding in Afghanistan.” Ethnopolitics July (2019): 1–​18. Berdal, Mats and Astri Suhrke, “A Good Ally –​Norway and International Statebuilding in Afghanistan, 2001-​2014.” Journal of Strategic Studies vol. 41, no. 1–​2 (2018): 61–​88. Blum, Jürgen René, Marcos Ferreiro-​Rodríguez, and Vivek Srivastava, Paths between Peace and Public Service: A Comparative Analysis of Public Service Reform Trajectories in Postconflict Countries (Washington, DC: World Bank Group, 2019). Brick Murtazashvili, Jennifer, Informal Order and the State in Afghanistan (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016). Brown, Frances Z., Aiding Afghan Local Governance: What Went Wrong? (Washington, DC: US Institute of Peace, 2021). Chesterman, Simon, “Walking Softly in Afghanistan: The Future of UN State-​Building.” Survival , vol. 44 (2002): 37–​45.

UNAMA amidst Counter-Terror and Counterinsurgency  235

de Waal, Alex, “Mission without End? Peacekeeping in the African Political Marketplace.” International Affairs, vol. 85, no. 1 (2009): 99–​113. Donini, Antonio, Afghanistan: Humanitarianism Unravelled? (Medford, MA: Tufts University, 2010). Dorronsoro, Gilles, The Taliban’s Winning Strategy in Afghanistan (Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 2009). Eide, Kai, Power Struggle over Afghanistan (New York: Skyhorse Publishing, 2012). Fishstein, Paul and Andrew Wilder, Winning Hearts and Minds? Examining the Relationship between Aid and Security in Afghanistan (Medford, MA: Tufts University, 2011). Galbraith, Peter, “The UN Isn’t Addressing Fraud in Afghan Election,” Washington Post, 2009. Giustozzi, Antonio, Koran, Kalashnikov, and Laptop: The Neo-​Taliban Insurgency in Afghanistan (New York: Columbia University Press, 2008). Gopal, Anand, The Battle for Afghanistan: Militancy and Conflict in Kandahar (Washington, DC: New America Foundation, 2010). International Crisis Group, Afghanistan: Elections and the Crisis of Governance (Brussels: International Crisis Group, 2009). International Crisis Group, Aid and Conflict in Afghanistan (Brussels: International Crisis Group, 2011). Jackson, Ashley, Negotiating Survival: Civilian-​Insurgent Relations in Afghanistan (London: Hurst & Co., 2021). Jackson, Ashley, Seeing Like the Networked State: Subnational Governance in Afghanistan ( London: Secure Livelihoods Research Consortium, 2016). Jackson, Ashley and Simone Haysom, The Search for Common Ground: Civil-​Military Relations in Afghanistan, 2002–​13 (London: Humanitarian Policy Group, 2013). Larsen, Iselin Hebbert, UNAMA in Afghanistan: Challenges and Opportunities in Peace-​Making, State-​Building and Coordination (Oslo: NUPI, 2010). Margesson, Rhoda, United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan: Background and Policy Issues (Washington, DC: Congressional Research Service, 2010). Ministry of Finance, Islamic Republic of Afghanistan, “Development Cooperation Report.” (2010). Petrik, Jaroslav, “Provincial Reconstruction Teams in Afghanistan: Securitizing Aid through Developmentalizing the Military,” in The Securitization of Foreign Aid, edited by Stephen Brown and Jörn Grävingholt, 163–​87 (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016). Pritchett, Lant, Michael Woolcock, and Matt Andrews, Capability Traps? The Mechanisms of Persistent Implementation Failure (Washington, DC: Center for Global Development, 2010). Rubin, Barnett R., “The Political Economy of War and Peace in Afghanistan,” World Politics, vol. 28, no. 10 (2000): 1789–​803. Secor, Laura, “The Pragmatist.” The Atlantic, 2004. Sharan, Timor, “The Political Economy of the Networked State,” First Annual CASI Conference (2011). SIGAR, Quarterly Report to the United States Congress, January 31, 2021 (Washington, DC: SIGAR, 2021). SIGAR, Quarterly Report to the United States Congress, October 30, 2009 (Washington, DC: SIGAR, 2009). SIGAR, What We Need to Learn: Lessons from Twenty Years of Afghanistan Reconstruction. Washington, DC: SIGAR, 2021. Stapleton, Barbara, “A Means to What End? Why PRTs Are Peripheral to the Bigger Political Challenges in Afghanistan,” Journal of Military and Strategic Studies, vol. 10, no. 1 (2007). Suhrke, Astri, “A Contradictory Mission? NATO from Stabilization to Combat in Afghanistan,” International Peacekeeping, vol. 15, no. 2 (2008): 214–​36.

236  Ashley Jackson

Suhrke, Astri, “The Case for a Light Footprint: The International Project in Afghanistan.” Anthony Hyman Memorial Lecture, School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London (2010).US Army, Handbook No. 09-​27: Commander’s Guide to Money as a Weapons System (Washington, DC: Department of the Army, 2009). US Department of State, “Cable: Secret, COIN Strategy Civilian Concerns.” November 6, 2009, via Wikileaks. Weigand, Florian and Ruben Andersson, “Institutionalized Intervention: The ‘Bunker Politics’ of International Aid in Afghanistan,” Journal of Intervention and Statebuilding, vol. 13, no. 4 (2019): 503–​523.

12 UNAMSIL AND THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF WAR IN SIERRA LEONE What is the Price of Peace? Kieran Mitton

Introduction In the late 1980s, a group of West African would-​be revolutionaries underwent training in a Libyan military camp. It was here that Charles Taylor, leader of the National Patriotic Front of Liberia (NPFL) rebels, met Foday Sankoh, future leader of Sierra Leone’s Revolutionary United Front (RUF). A deal was struck: the RUF would help Taylor seize power in Liberia, and in return, Taylor would help them in Sierra Leone. Taylor kept his word and in March 1991, NPFL and RUF fighters invaded Sierra Leone. Over the next eleven years, the Taylor–​RUF link would figure centrally in the war and various efforts to address it, with some analysts framing it as a regional complex of conflicts –​the “Mano River War”.1 A conspicuous regional dimension of Sierra Leone’s war was the transborder trade in what became known as “blood diamonds”. Mined by the RUF, they were exchanged with Taylor for arms and exported from Liberia for huge profit. The complicity of international diamond buyers, such as De Beers, became a focal point of global activism. Meanwhile, in Sierra Leone’s towns and villages, more local economic drivers of violence appeared pronounced. Frequent looting by RUF combatants convinced some observers that their essential motivation was plunder rather than politics.2 Sierra Leone thus took centre stage in a debate over the motivations behind the so-​called “new wars”, with some scholars arguing that rebels’ political rhetoric masked greed motives: profit as an end, not a means.3 The implication of “greed” arguments was that war could not be resolved by political negotiation or addressing rebel grievances. As Berdal notes, this appealed to policymakers since “the reduction of a conflict to a struggle over economic resources also reduced, at least in theory, the policy challenge”.4 However, this was guilty of what Mkandawire terms “fatal political blindness”.5 It dangerously

DOI: 10.4324/9781003248637-14

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oversimplified the complex interaction of economic and political factors fuelling violence in Sierra Leone, obscuring the crucial context of youth grievances and pronounced inequalities that had primed the country for war.6 This chapter does not intend to re-​tread the well-​worn path of this critique. Rather, in adopting a political economy approach, it seeks to avoid reproducing simplistic dichotomies of “greed versus grievance” when interrogating the various challenges that faced the United Nations Mission in Sierra Leone (UNAMSIL). The UNAMSIL deployment was groundbreaking. It marked the UN’s return to peacekeeping following the traumatic experiences of Somalia and Rwanda earlier in the decade.7 In accordance with the 1999 Lomé Peace Agreement, UNAMSIL was tasked with facilitating an ambitious Disarmament, Demobilisation and Reintegration (DDR) programme and delivery of humanitarian assistance. Uniquely for the time, it involved collaboration with a regional organisation –​the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) –​and the “re-​hatting” of Nigerian-​ led ECOWAS Monitoring Group (ECOMOG) peacekeepers. Numbering 17,500 personnel at its peak, it would become the most expensive and largest UN peace operation of the time. The record of UNAMSIL in Sierra Leone is strikingly mixed. It has been described as a “model” mission –​an instance in which lessons were learnt and approaches adapted to successfully enable peace –​yet the impetus for those lessons was an initial series of crises that saw the mission widely regarded as an embarrassing failure.8 It gained notoriety for its inability to prevent the abduction of its own peacekeepers, and for the tensions between its Force Commander, India’s General Vijay Jetley, and the Nigerian SRSG, Oluyemi Adeniji, with the former accusing country contingents of poor discipline, inadequate training and even complicity in the war economy. These setbacks were foregrounded in the August 2000 Brahimi Report as evidencing systemic weaknesses in UN peace operations and the urgent need for reforms.9 This chapter argues that UNAMSIL should be viewed as a qualified success. The first qualification is that it ultimately made a positive contribution to peace only by learning from avoidable early failures. Second, UNAMSIL’s turnaround was strongly related to developments outside of the mission, including but not limited to intervention by UK and Guinean forces and international pressure applied to Taylor.This chapter frames the successful strategy adopted in Sierra Leone as essentially that of “carrot and stick” –​a set of complimentary, multidimensional and region-​wide interventions that created both pressure and incentives for the RUF to disarm. On the one hand, the chapter shows how efforts to sever the Taylor–​RUF economic links, combined with more robust military deployments, were instrumental in ending conflict. On the other hand, it shows how UNAMSIL played a crucial complimentary political role in persuading rebels to disarm. At the commander level, it did so via diplomatic overtures led by SRSG Adeniji and ECOWAS to convince interim RUF leader Issa Sesay to recommit to the peace process. Sesay’s appointment to this role was itself strategically encouraged by the UN, calculating that he would be more amenable to disarmament.10 For the rank-​and-​file,

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UNAMSIL built trust by positioning itself as a reliable guarantor of local security for demobilising combatants, and by offering reintegration assistance as a positive inducement –​a “carrot” which stood in stark contrast to the “stick” of surrender or defeat to battlefield opponents. Informed by fieldwork conducted between 2008 and 2012, the chapter begins with a brief background on the situation in Sierra Leone leading up to UNAMSIL’s deployment, giving particular emphasis to the war economy that had developed and would shape early peacekeeping challenges. It then charts the first stages of the mission, covering its issues of under-​resourcing, inconsistent application of rules of engagement, and inability to protect its own forces and demobilising rebels. The next section follows UNAMSIL’s change in fortunes, showing how restructuring and upscaling in resources, force size and political will led to improved security on the ground. Combined with local-​level trust-​building exercises, this helped make DDR a more attractive and viable option for rank-​and-​file rebels. The concurrent impact of British, Guinean, and CDF military advances against the RUF is then explored, demonstrating how they allowed UNAMSIL to effectively position disarmament as a preferable option to continued fighting. Finally, the chapter highlights the importance of the regional approach to peace, covering pressure applied to Taylor and efforts to negotiate peace with rebel leaders.

The Sierra Leone Civil War Well before violence broke out in March 1991, Sierra Leonean villages bordering Liberia –​which had been at war since December 1989 –​encountered the political economy of conflict. Taylor’s NPFL rebels frequently crossed the border to trade looted items, including with soldiers of the Sierra Leone Army (SLA), and some looted villages and forced residents to carry goods back over the border.11 When the RUF subsequently invaded, initially receptive villages were soon aggrieved at the rapacious behaviour of rebels. Although the RUF blamed their sizable Liberian contingent, it was clear that Sierra Leonean recruits were implicated.12 These early events convinced some observers that the RUF was composed primarily of criminals rather than ideologues.13 Soldiers tasked with defending civilians were likewise implicated in looting, popularising a view of the war as a fixed match –​“sell game” –​in which supposedly competing sides colluded for material gain.14 The view that rebels were little more than “bandits” grew in influence as they sold diamonds through Liberia and Burkina Faso. The RUF battled to hold key mining areas, such as Kono and Tongo in the Eastern Province, clashing frequently with the CDF –​a pro-​government militia primarily composed of Kamajor traditional hunters, who sought to prise them from the lucrative resources. A military government that had taken power in 1992 had made little progress against the RUF; in 1995 it turned to private outfit Executive Outcomes (EO), offering EO mining concessions in exchange for turning the tide. Faced with a far more formidable military opponent, the RUF were quickly put on the backfoot and by 1996 were

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willing to negotiate with a newly elected government headed by Ahmad Tejan Kabbah. The 1996 Abidjan Peace Accord offered amnesty for the RUF, paving the way for its transformation into a political party and the commencement of DDR. The deal included the creation of an observer mission and the withdrawal of EO. RUF leader Foday Sankoh rejected a proposed deployment of over 700 UN peacekeepers, and with no security provision to protect the fragile peace, it quickly unravelled. The CDF, backed and rapidly enlarged by the new civilian government which had little trust in its own army, continued to pursue the RUF, with fighting over diamond areas underlining the significance of natural resources to continued conflict. The government did little to halt CDF attacks, contributing to suspicion among rebel commanders that Kabbah preferred to wipe the rebels out rather than implement the deal.15 The RUF likewise breached the agreement, which Sankoh appeared to have signed as a strategic move to halt the onslaught by EO and regroup, rather than disarm. Keen notes significant divergence at this time between the rebel leadership, who were generally determined to fight-​on and maximise diamond revenues, and the rank-​and-​file who were more eager to secure peace and the concessions offered.16 However, without security on the ground, RUF cadres had little incentive to risk going against their commanders to attempt disarmament. With limited international political commitment and insufficient attention paid to the regional dynamics of war –​particularly the role of Charles Taylor –​there was little hope of lasting peace. In May 1997, a splinter faction of the SLA –​the Armed Forces Revolutionary Council (AFRC) –​seized power in Freetown. Aggrieved at being sidelined in favour of the CDF, the AFRC invited the RUF to join them. Kabbah requested Nigeria’s assistance under a bilateral security agreement, which promptly ordered the redeployment of ECOWAS Monitoring Group (ECOMOG) troops stationed in Liberia.17 Supporting CDF and loyal SLA elements, ECOMOG pushed the AFRC/​RUF junta out of the capital in early 1998, and in July a small UN Observer Mission in Sierra Leone (UNOMSIL) was established. However, relief was temporary, and the junta soon began to retake territory. Having earned the moniker “Every Car or Movable Object Gone” for alleged looting, ECOMOG troops were soon accused of profiting from Sierra Leone’s war economy. According to Peters, rebels captured territory in Kono District because ECOMOG soldiers were “too busy mining for diamonds to notice RUF movements”.18 In January 1999, the AFRC and RUF returned to Freetown with brutal vengeance, committing atrocities on a mass scale.19 Such was the intensity of violence that the war made a rare appearance on front pages of newspapers around the world, building pressure for international action to halt the violence. Somewhat perversely, the destruction unleashed on Freetown convinced Sierra Leone’s international partners that victory against the RUF was unrealistic or would come at too high a cost. The price of peace, it was believed, was compromise. The result was the Lomé Peace Agreement, signed in July 1999.

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UNAMSIL: A Faltering Start The deployment of UNAMSIL was a provision of Lomé, which in addition to amnesty for RUF abuses established a power-​sharing arrangement and made Sankoh Vice-​President and Chair of the new Strategic Mineral Resources Commission. The latter appointment made clear the logic of the settlement, and according to Olonisakin, underpinned UNAMSIL’s early optimism –​it was predicated on the belief that a sufficiently sweet deal for rebel leaders would effectively buy them off, allowing disarmament to proceed.20 This calculation greatly underestimated the willingness of rebel commanders to give up their primary leverage, the massed ranks of armed combatants. According to Olonisakin, Sankoh was determined to secure further RUF political appointments before allowing disarmament.21 This optimism also underestimated the rank-​and-​file’s deep distrust of the government and its allies, and their suspicion of peace deals which recent experience had shown to be precarious and short-​lived. There was also little in the deal for AFRC combatants, who were frustrated by being denied the chance to rejoin the restructured SLA. Finally, Lomé did little to address the regional aspects of the conflict, including Taylor’s continued support for the RUF and trade in illicit diamonds.22 Established in October 1999, UNAMSIL was tasked with implementing Lomé, overseeing DDR and the delivery of humanitarian assistance. Its mission included a Chapter VII mandate to “afford protection to civilians under imminent threat of physical violence”.23 The deployment relied on the “re-​hatting” of ECOMOG peacekeepers, but in an early set-​back, Nigeria’s newly elected President Obasanjo announced the withdrawal of Nigerian troops. This effectively signalled the end of ECOMOG’s presence and led the United Nations Security Council to expand UNAMSIL’s military personnel contingent to 11,000 in February 2000. From the outset, UNAMSIL faced severe challenges. Typical of other UN operations, the arrival of troop contingents was painfully slow. By May 2000, the force had only 9,251 military personnel deployed.24 As ECOMOG drew down, UNAMSIL remained severely under-​ strength while the quality of deployed troops was highly variable, with some lacking basic equipment, training and a clear understanding of the rules of engagement. According to UNAMSIL’s own Force Commander, General Jetley, this meant some contingents were incapable or unwilling to use force to carry out the mandate. These weaknesses were quickly exposed in UNAMSIL’s first deployments into RUF territory, where it proved unable to protect its own peacekeepers. By May 2000, the security situation had rapidly declined.The AFRC and RUF –​ former allies –​clashed frequently while continuing to fight the CDF. Meanwhile, an AFRC splinter group, the West Side Boys (WSB), had begun to target UN patrols. The RUF still controlled an estimated 90 per cent of diamond-​mining areas, and as UNAMSIL advanced they were met with hostility and resistance.25 In Magburaka and Makeni in the Northern Province, key strategic access points for the centre of the RUF’s mining operations in Koidu, rebel commanders actively prevented their fighters from entering DDR camps. When Kenyan peacekeepers

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refused to hand over ten demobilising combatants, the RUF attacked and destroyed the facilities. Rebels seized UNAMSIL weapons and vehicles and took twenty-​ nine peacekeepers captive. The entire Zambian Battalion en route to Makeni was then intercepted by an RUF roadblock, disarmed and taken captive.26 In Kailahun, Eastern Province, military observers and members of the Indian Battalion were detained. The UN reported that Sankoh, who had called peacekeepers “paper tigers”, refused to negotiate their release and instead encouraged his fighters to resist what he claimed was forced disarmament.27 “Lawless”,28 a junior rebel commander based in Tongo at the time, recalled: We were monitoring the movements of the UN from Bo, Kenema, Mano Junction, Daru. They [RUF HQ in Kailahun] told us not to disarm yet but to wait to see what the provisions were for disarmament. After three days Kailahun called to Tongo. They told us that the UN peace mission was going to Kailahun but they had arrested them, they had detained them at Kailahun.29 Overall, around 500 peacekeepers were taken hostage by the RUF in May 2000. News reports were scathing of the apparent ease with which small numbers of rebels were able to disarm UNAMSIL contingents and seize vehicles and weaponry.30 Rather than disarm the RUF, UNAMSIL had done the exact opposite. In an internal memo, Jetley complained: Most units under my command other than India, Kenya and Guinea have very little or no equipment with them. They have not been properly brief [sic] in their country about the application of chapter VII in this mission for certain contingencies. It is for this precise reasons [sic] that the troops do not have the mental aptitude or the will to fight the rebels when the situation so demanded, and resorted to handing over their arms on the slightest danger to their life. ... Also units hoped that negotiations would help the rebels see reason. The rebels took advantage of the gullibility of these units and disarmed them.31 The public humiliation of UNAMSIL led to a perception within Sierra Leone that, without the support of ECOMOG, the mission was toothless and unable to provide the sustained security necessary to convince combatants to lay down arms. Furthermore, there was a concern that the mandate was too restrictive, focusing on the protection of civilians under imminent threat rather than allowing the force to take on rebels when they threatened the peace process.32 In September 2000, Jetley’s controversial report was leaked. It revealed his tensions with SRSG Adeniji, his deputy commander, and various country contingents. Beyond issues of under-​resourced and ill-​disciplined troops, he placed the war economy front and centre. Echoing suspicions of “sell-​game”, he accused Nigeria of “staying in Sierra Leone due to the massive benefits they were getting from the illegal diamond mining”, claiming “a tacit understanding was reached

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between the RUF and ECOMOG of non-​interference in each other’s activities”.33 He concluded: In a mineral rich country like Sierra Leone, politics has a very major role to play in finding solutions to civil wars. In my case, the Mission Directive given to me and which I tried to follow implicitly, directly conflicted with the interests of not only the warring factions but also of the major players in the diamond racket like Liberia and Nigeria.34 The allegations against Nigeria were vehemently denied. India and Jordan withdrew from UNAMSIL and Jetley was replaced by Lieutenant General Daniel Ishmael Opande of Kenya. However, the UN’s December 2000 Panel of Experts Report concluded:“There is reason to believe that a certain amount of diamonds have been traded by the RUF with officers of the former West African peacekeeping force”.35 While such interactions may have reflected rank-​and-​file indiscipline as opposed to high-​level collusion, Jetley’s allegations underlined two interrelated challenges facing UNAMSIL that could not be overcome by improved force size and quality alone. First, the RUF was still able to fund and arm their movement through the diamond trade. This source of revenue provided the rebels a means to continue fighting, and for some commanders, it has been argued, a motive. Second, this trade pointed to the role of Taylor’s Liberia in sustaining the RUF and perpetuating the war economy. Beyond material support, the RUF could safely regroup and rearm in Liberia, out of reach of their opponents. It was clear then, by mid-​2000, that more boots on the ground alone would not suffice to end war in Sierra Leone; to tackle the sources of illicit funding, and the regional dynamics that helped sustain the RUF, a more holistic and coordinated approach was required.

Coming Back from the Brink From mid-​2000, UNAMSIL managed to turn its fortunes around so significantly that it was soon being celebrated as a success story. By the end of the year it had deployed throughout the country and begun the DDR process in earnest. The RUF was now in danger of military defeat, Sankoh had been arrested and replaced by an interim leader more disposed to disarmament, and SRSG Adeniji had made strides in negotiating the latter’s recommitment to the peace process. How did the mission reach this point, from what appeared a hopeless situation only months earlier? This chapter argues that success was achieved through a deliberate reorientation of the UN, the Sierra Leonean government, and its international partners, towards a multidimensional and regional strategy which combined mutually reinforcing incentives and disincentives to facilitate peace. In other words, a “carrot and stick” approach. On the one hand, a bolstered peacekeeping force combined with robust interventions by the UK and Guinea to tip the military balance against the RUF, pressuring it to disarm.Targeted sanctions against Liberia added another element to

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this “stick”, cutting-​off the RUF’s lifeline of material support. On the other hand, the improved capacity of UNAMSIL to deploy more widely and provide security on the ground made DDR a much more attractive incentive for the rank-​and-​file. Concurrent diplomatic efforts led by Adeniji to engage with the RUF at local and leadership level boosted trust in UNAMSIL and ultimately led interim rebel leader Issa Sesay to commit to disarmament, bringing an end to war in January 2002. The following discussion is divided into three sections. The first section covers the immediate steps taken by the UN to learn lessons and implement changes to UNAMSIL, boosting its effectiveness as a military force while giving greater emphasis to local trust-​building. It argues that this had an immediate impact in making DDR a more viable incentive for the rank-​and-​file.The second section explores the critical importance of British and Guinean military interventions, alongside advances made by an increasingly effective CDF. The third and final section focuses on efforts to deal with the political economy of war and an intransigent RUF leadership, arguing that a regional-​centred approach was effective in severing Charles Taylor’s links to the RUF and bringing the rebels back to the negotiating table.

UNAMSIL Reformed: From Embarrassment to “Model” Mission The abduction of UNMASIL peacekeepers provoked a swift response from the UN. A June 2000 internal report commissioned by UN Secretary-​General Kofi Annan corroborated much of what Jetley had claimed, noting “critical deficiencies” in troop quality, intelligence and equipment, and describing a fractious relationship between the Force Commander and contingent commanders who refused to follow the UN chain of command, answering only to their own governments.36 Although the findings were not made public, it was widely reported that Jetley’s Nigerian deputy, as well as the remaining Nigerian contingent, refused direct orders on at least one occasion.37 Nigeria was reportedly frustrated at the absence of West African leadership and regional expertise at the head of the force, and appeared to favour a more conciliatory approach to dealing with the RUF.38 The influential Brahimi Report on UN peace operations, published shortly after, concluded: The problems of command and control that recently arose in Sierra Leone are the most recent illustration of what cannot be tolerated any longer.Troop contributors must ensure that the troops they provide fully understand the importance of an integrated chain of command, the operational control of the Secretary-​General and the standard operating procedures and rules of engagement of the mission. It is essential that the chain of command in an operation be understood and respected, and the onus is on national capitals to refrain from instructing their contingent commanders on operational matters.39 The responsibility for many of UNAMSIL’s inherent weaknesses lay directly at the door of the international community, including the UK which had taken a

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lead in pushing for peace but had refused to put its own forces under UNAMSIL command.40 The Brahimi Report noted pointedly: “A mission such as UNAMSIL would probably not have faced the difficulties that it did in spring 2000 had it been provided with forces as strong as those currently keeping the peace as part of KFOR in Kosovo”.41 On 19 May 2000 the UN Security Council passed Resolution 1299, increasing UNAMSIL’s force size to 13,000 peacekeepers, followed in March 2001 by a further boost to 17,500, making it the largest such mission to have been deployed at the time. In addition, various efforts were made to improve in-​field communications and command and control, including through the provision of a signals battalion, new communications equipment, and satellite imagery. In one of the most militarily significant changes, UNAMSIL was also equipped with helicopter gunships, greatly increasing its offensive and defensive capacity. Annan revised UNAMSIL’s concept of operations to ensure contingents deployed to RUF territory were better trained and equipped, acting on uniformly understood rules of engagement that explicitly authorised peacekeepers to “respond robustly to any attack or threat of attack, including, if necessary, in a pre-​emptive manner”.42 The leadership of the mission was also restructured with the appointment of two Deputy Special Representatives, which, according to Olonisakin, improved UNAMSIL’s organisational cohesion and freed Adeniji to focus on diplomacy and political affairs.43 The increased efficiency, coordination and robustness of UNAMSIL had quick and tangible effects on the ground, particularly in deployments to RUF territory. In July 2000, prior to his departure, Jetley led Operation Khukri. Ghanian, Nigerian and Indian UNAMSIL units, with assistance from British helicopters and special forces, rescued 233 peacekeepers and military observers held captive in Kailahun. The rebels suffered severe losses. Keen quoted a senior UNAMSIL official at the time: “Now the RUF can see we are serious. We have helicopter gunships to back us up. Before, the mandate was a problem –​it was peacekeeping not peace enforcement”.44 That UNAMSIL was now seen as a serious force marked a crucial change in the attitude of many rank-​and-​file rebels. They not only viewed peacekeepers as increasingly difficult battlefield opponents, they now saw them as a viable protective force with the firepower to back up their DDR security guarantee. The latter was crucial for war-​weary cadres looking for a way out of the jungle.45 Such guarantees were particularly important to those who had witnessed the fate of the tentative early UN deployments, or had heard about the RUF destruction of DDR camps and punishments for those attempting to demobilise. They would only consider demobilising if the UN could keep them safe, not only from CDF, SLA and Guinean forces, but also from their own commanders and peers. Accordingly, many in the RUF followed a “wait-​and-​see” policy. “Lawless” recounted a conversation with one of his fighters: After some time, we started to see that most of our friends were escaping to disarm, but we were still in Tongo. Ibrahim asked at one time “Aren’t

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we going to disarm?” I told him “Let’s wait. Think about it –​the Kamajors who had disarmed to the UN are more in number than the RUF who have disarmed. So how can you stay among them? We have to disarm, but we don’t have to rush things. We should wait and see”.46 What they increasingly saw was a stable and secure UNAMSIL presence, and this proved a key factor in building trust that ceasefires could hold, that the peace could last, and that this time the war really was over. The value of building trust on the ground and continuing to offer incentives for disarmament, as opposed to relying solely on the threat of force, was an important lesson learnt by a revamped UNAMSIL. At the local level, RUF commanders, often operating in relative isolation from their central command, entered into negotiations with their UNAMSIL counterparts. Such micro-​level diplomacy was essential for convincing many units to ultimately trust the DDR process. Reliable information was scarce; rumours circulated among rebel ranks about the trustworthiness (or otherwise) of the UN and DDR, and the potential recriminations from the RUF leadership for disarming. “Lawless” and his unit had remained in close contact with RUF headquarters, and his senior commander remained wary of stepping out of line: At one time we heard that a helicopter had gone to Kailahun to talk to the CO. The UN team that went to Kailahun gave them some presents. Those in Tongo were only listening to Kailahun –​whatever Kailahun decided, we would follow. After some time we heard again that the UN had gone back to Kailahun with about four vehicles. They explained to them about the peace initiative. Our CO in Tongo asked us “Most of your friends have started to disarm. So how do you see this?” I said “Commander Banya, we have to listen and know what’s happening in Kailahun. Since Kailahun is our headquarters, whatever Kailahun decides to do, that’s what we should follow. If we disarm now they will say that we have betrayed them, so we have to wait”. “Lawless” and his comrades did not wait long, ultimately deciding to disarm at Mano Junction after witnessing significant numbers of their unit doing so without reprisals from RUF leaders or demobilising CDF fighters. The local-​ level approach UNAMSIL adopted throughout much of RUF-​ occupied territory centred around “decriminalising” rebels and recognising their humanity through demonstrations of trust, such as UN officials travelling without armed escort.47 In many locations across Sierra Leone, UNAMSIL forces provided assistance to local communities and rebel units as demonstrations of good will, acting as powerful signals that the country was truly moving from war to peace, from destruction to development. In Kailahun, remote villages related the symbolic power of work by a Pakistani contingent of engineers in their area, who by literally building bridges had bought UNAMSIL goodwill and convinced local RUF cadres that the promises of reintegration assistance could be delivered.48

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Military Interventions and RUF Reversals Several other developments, outside of the UN mission, that profoundly shaped the prospects for peace in 2000 were the entry of British forces into the conflict, followed later in the year by Guinea after an RUF cross-​border raid, and the overall increased threat posed to the RUF by the CDF. The UK deployed in early May 2000 under Operation Palliser as an evacuation mission, amid fears that an RUF advance on Freetown was imminent. With aircraft carrier HMS Illustrious positioned conspicuously off the coast, British troops engaged in shows of force intended to deter the RUF from attacking the capital. However, after skirmishes with the RUF around the international airport, and with UN peacekeepers attacked and abducted in rebel territory, the UK mission expanded to encompass providing logistical support to UNAMSIL and training for the SLA. In July 2000, British units played a central role in UNAMSIL’s successful rescue of UN peacekeepers. Another abduction in August 2000, this time of British soldiers by the West Side Boys military splinter faction, led to another successful and widely reported rescue mission. Through Operation Barras, British special forces effectively defeated the faction, convincing many in the RUF that the UK would now take a more direct role in the overall conflict. By the end of the year, the UK’s mission did indeed expand to encompass the defeat of the RUF and support of the civilian government, and as Ucko notes, its strategy included a political approach that recognised the regional dimensions of conflict and sought to increase international pressure on Charles Taylor and his links to the RUF’s lucrative diamond fields.49 The UK’s military presence in the country, demonstrated through repeated flyovers and direct engagements against the RUF and West Side Boys, as well as the rapid strengthening and re-​training of a resurgent SLA, deepened the impression among many RUF combatants that the war was at best unwinnable, but at worst was rapidly moving towards the outright defeat of the rebels. In this regard, the offer of protection and DDR benefits made by UNAMSIL –​the carrot, rather than the stick –​became much more appealing. The entry of Guinea into the war added another direct existential threat to the RUF. At Taylor’s request, the RUF carried out cross-​border attacks in Guinea in late 2000. The response was swift and formidable, beyond what many RUF combatants had faced to that point, with Guinean forces using helicopter gunships to devastating effect against retreating rebel fighters. Continuing the counter-​offensive into early 2001, Guinea’s progress led many RUF combatants to seek refuge through DDR and UNAMSIL, and further tipped the balance in convincing others that the writing was on the wall. Throughout much of late 2000 and early 2001, the RUF’s most potent long-​standing opponents –​the CDF –​had also begun to make major advances. Boosted by British and Guinean support, these units often boasted superior knowledge of the bush and had proven adept in pursuing the RUF through the jungle. Their treatment of captives was typically ruthless, and rumours of CDF cannibalism and torture were rife within rebel ranks.50 Added together, these battlefield threats to the RUF bolstered UNAMSIL in two ways, following the carrot and stick logic. First, they expanded the military power

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ranged against the rebels, placing them on the backfoot in a way that forced them to reconsider the viability of continued fighting. War weariness, low morale and a pronounced sense that the tide had turned, was a major and often underestimated factor in encouraging rebels to disarm.51 Second, they helped UNAMSIL position itself as a guarantor of security for demobilising RUF combatants.The peacekeepers could offer them protection from advancing Guinean forces and the CDF. In contrast to the existential threat posed by these groups, and the likelihood of harsh treatment if captured, UNAMSIL could offer RUF members cash for weapons, skills training and other reintegration assistance –​the chance not only to save their lives, but seemingly, to start new ones. The effectiveness and complementarity of the above “carrot and stick” approach were highlighted in May 2001, a year on from the RUF’s abduction of UN peacekeepers. RUF combatants under sustained pressure from Guinean and CDF forces in Kambia, close to the Guinean border, were given safe passage to Kailahun after the intervention of SRSG Adeniji. The latter’s diplomatic efforts led to an agreement that allowed the rebels to safely exit the area only once they had been disarmed simultaneously with CDF forces. This approach became known as the “Kambia formula” and provided a successful model for disarmament for the remainder of the programme.52

The Regional Approach: Diamonds and Diplomacy That the DDR programme’s offer of small cash payments for weapons and promises of vocational training was attractive to many rebels shows that the popular portrayal of the war as rife with “blood diamonds” and valuable loot was far from accurate. In reality, by mid-​2000 much of the rank-​and-​file RUF was exhausted by life in the bush, conducting raids primarily in search of food to stave off perpetual hunger, and generally demoralised by the course of the war.53 For even the most committed rebels there was growing disillusionment at the RUF’s failure to deliver on its promises of free education and employment for the country’s youth. Amid rumours of peace deals being struck by the rebel leadership that would end the war but not bring about any substantial political change, many rank-​and-​file felt a sense of betrayal and deep frustration that their years in the bush had been a waste.54 In this light, it is clear that framing the appeal of DDR purely in economic transactional terms –​as combatants seeking to trade the spoils of war for the spoils of peace –​failed to understand that for many it was simply about exiting from a war they no longer wished to fight. For those who had been forcibly recruited, it represented the first realistic opportunity to escape a life they had never chosen. Their price for peace, then, was meeting basic physical and welfare security needs rather than offering a substitute for diamond revenues. For the higher echelons of the RUF and their Liberian ally Charles Taylor, calculations were naturally very different. Sankoh, arrested on 17 May 2000 after his bodyguards turned their guns on protestors, had been staunchly opposed to disarming until further concessions to the RUF had been made. Keeping the RUF

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cadres armed and in possession of the diamond fields was his critical leverage.55 After his arrest, although loyalties were increasingly split between contending commanders, there were still significant numbers of rebels fiercely loyal to the movement, and as UNAMSIL had discovered, they had little intention of surrendering to peacekeepers. Therefore, another key element in the strategy to push the RUF back to the negotiating table was tackling the sources of funding that enabled the group to continue fighting. Moreover, doing so would address the concern that Charles Taylor had a vested interest in continued insecurity in Sierra Leone. Both diplomatic and economic pressure was exerted on Charles Taylor in a coordinated strategy that had been strikingly absent prior to 2000.56 With strong international lobbying from the UK, the UN framed the war in Sierra Leone as part of a regional complex of insecurity in which Taylor’s economic and political influence was pivotal. Initially, United Nations Secretary-​General Anan and ECOWAS sought to persuade Taylor to use his influence with the RUF to help bring about peace in Sierra Leone. This met with some success. Taylor helped to negotiate the release of UNAMSIL troops held by the RUF and, crucially, helped to secure the appointment of Issa Sesay as interim RUF leader in August 2000. Sesay was a commander the Nigerians and UN believed would be more compliant and that his orders were likely to be followed by the ranks. As Olonisakin notes, the irony of these successes was to confirm the widely held suspicion that Taylor had a direct hand in developments in the war, a perspective confirmed by the UN’s December 2000 expert panel report.57 Noting that diamonds were a “major and primary source of income for the RUF … more than enough to sustain its military activities”, the report concluded that “the bulk of the RUF diamonds leave Sierra Leone through Liberia … Such trade cannot be conducted without the permission and the involvement of Liberian government officials at the highest level”.58 Following the December 2000 report, the UN imposed an arms embargo on Liberia, prohibited trade in rough diamonds and placed travel bans on senior Liberian officials and Taylor’s associates. At the same time, the Sierra conflict had become a focal point in a growing global movement to highlight and challenge the complicity of international firms in the “blood diamond” trade. This heightened attention reinforced the effectiveness of the sanctions, with the UN reporting an immediate decrease in illicit trafficking of diamonds into Liberia. As part of a multidimensional strategy, military force had also been applied to effectively seal the Liberian-​Sierra Leonean border, denying the RUF both safe refuge and a cross-​ border route for illicit goods. From 2001, with a decline in diamond and arms trafficking, and with Taylor more isolated internationally and under threat domestically from insurgents backed by regional powers, Taylor’s influence on the RUF and Sierra Leone was dramatically reduced. The isolation of Taylor, international pressure on diamond revenues and battlefield setbacks made the prospect of outright defeat seem increasingly likely for a fragmented RUF leadership, and there was now growing concern about their potential prosecution for war crimes. At Kabbah’s request, and with strong US

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backing, the UN had authorised the creation of a Special Court for Sierra Leone in August 2000, and fear of arrest now acted as another “stick” shaping the calculations of the RUF leadership. In fact, in May 2000 it was not only the RUF leader Sankoh who had been arrested; around 400 RUF members, including senior commanders, had also been detained without trial and remained in prison in Freetown.There was more than a little suspicion that the Sierra Leonean government and its allies had sought these arrests as a means to remove what it regarded as RUF “spoiler” elements, and naturally there was deep distrust of the peace process among commanders.59 That peace was finally reached in January 2002, then, was possible in large part due to the sustained behind-​the-​scenes diplomatic efforts of UNAMSIL’s head, Adeniji, who was convinced that a military solution alone could not end the war.60 His understanding of regional dynamics, and the more conciliatory approach adopted by the West Africans, enabled ECOWAS and the UN to effectively manoeuvre Issa Sesay into place as interim leader.61 As Keen relates, the “carrot and stick” approach was evident again: UN insiders suggested that the UN had a strategy of encouraging RUF ‘moderates’ by suggesting that the international community was really after Sankoh and that those who co-​operated could escape punishment at the tribunals.62 Adeniji was able to bring the RUF back to the negotiating table in Abuja, Nigeria, leading to the signing of a ceasefire agreement on 10 November 2000 and the RUF’s recommitment to the Lomé agreement. Sesay believed he had been promised amnesty from prosecution should the RUF finally demobilise, reflecting confidence the original terms of Lomé would be observed as well personal assurances he claimed to have received. Against the advice of senior RUF commanders imprisoned in Freetown, Sesay committed the RUF to disarmament and ultimately the end of the war.63

Conclusion From its earliest days, the UNAMSIL peace operation found itself on the brink of disaster. Incapable of protecting its own peacekeepers on the ground, the mission was soon wracked by internal rifts in leadership and disharmony among country contingents, some challenging both chain of command and rules of engagement. Although the UN had arguably underestimated the difficulty of disarming the RUF and overseeing the implementation of Lomé, it had been impeded from the start by these inherent weaknesses. The speed at which the UN was able to learn the lessons from its early failures and quickly turn UNAMSIL’s fortunes around is one reason to ultimately judge the operation a success. By adapting and evolving, UNAMSIL was able to take advantage of other key developments –​such as the military intervention of British forces –​to help build security on the ground, bring the RUF to the negotiating table and eventually oversee a successful transition to

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peace. This turnaround offers several lessons for UN peace operations, providing insight on the price of peace in contexts where the political economy of war is conspicuous. An all-​too-​familiar lesson was that, in order to provide the physical security essential for the success of disarmament efforts, there needed to be a sufficient number of well-​trained, well-​equipped and well-​briefed peacekeepers on the ground, uniformly following the UN chain of command and the same rules of engagement. In a hostile environment with little peace to keep, these rules needed to signal a willingness to use force where necessary. Only once UNAMSIL addressed these issues was it able to provide security guarantees trusted by rebels and civilians alike. As in many other cases of UN peacekeeping, initial weaknesses in this regard could be traced to the limited political will of UN members and the international community, particularly nations with most capacity to pay the price of peace. The early humiliations of the UN force were instrumental in prompting action in this respect, and the lead the UK would end up taking, as their own deployment expanded in remit, helped to provide the political impetus that had been missing. Nevertheless, as the Brahimi Report noted in 2000, British troops had been deployed outside of the UN mission: “no developed country currently contributes troops to the most difficult United Nations-​led peacekeeping operations from a security perspective, namely the United Nations Mission in Sierra Leone”.64 A second key lesson from the UNAMSIL experience in Sierra Leone was that military power alone could not end the conflict; a multidimensional approach was required to address the interaction of political and economic drivers of violence. This required not only an understanding of the political economy of Sierra Leone’s war, but also an approach that took a regional perspective and looked beyond the country’s borders. For much of the conflict the RUF was sustained by the trade in illicit diamonds and supply of arms from Charles Taylor’s Liberia. A combination of regional-​led diplomacy, international sanctions and isolation, and progress on the battlefield proved sufficient to reduce Taylor’s influence on the war and ease the task facing UNAMSIL as it sought to disarm rebels based in diamond-​r ich territory. A third lesson of the UNAMSIL experience was the importance of distinguishing between different levels and needs of the rebel hierarchy, and accordingly adapting approaches to building trust and viable incentives for demobilisation. By the time of UNAMSIL’s deployment the majority of the RUF’s rank-​and-​file had seen little material gain from the war and had many good reasons to demobilise, if only they could trust the peace. Those in senior leadership, on the other hand, believed they had more to lose from peace –​they feared prosecution for war crimes and believed that giving up their leverage (a mobilised RUF) would lead to loss of political power and concessions. In their calculations, maintaining control of the diamond mining areas ensured they could keep the war machine running. Appreciating these differences enabled UNAMSIL to address the barriers to demobilisation that had frustrated earlier attempts. Improving the provision of physical security to demobilising combatants and undertaking crucial local negotiations and

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trust-​building exercises helped convince rebels that DDR was now a viable option. For the most committed RUF remnants and senior commanders, another approach was needed. Reducing the influence of Taylor and the capacity of the group to draw on its diamond resources, combined with RUF setbacks on the battlefield, helped to make continued fighting an increasingly futile prospect for commanders. At the same time, Adeniji’s complimentary political strategy successfully identified and built trust with more compliant elements of the RUF leadership, and, through interim leader Sesay, was able to bring the rebels back to the peace process. Finally, the UNAMSIL deployment underscored the importance of the UN’s ability to reflect on its failings and quickly put lessons into practice. It was by doing so that the mission was able to transform its fortunes and make a positive contribution to peace in Sierra Leone.Yet many lessons, such as the need to promptly deploy sufficient numbers of capable troops, had already been well established prior to UNAMSIL, and resulted directly from the problem of limited investment in peace by major players in the international community. The fact that these same failings continued to plague deployments65 long after Sierra Leone points to a more fundamental, overarching lesson: peace operations will continue to face a similar set of challenges until and unless UN members seriously commit to act on lessons learnt.

Notes 1 Danny Hoffman, The War Machines: Young Men and Violence in Sierra Leone and Liberia (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2011), p. 27. 2 See Lansana Gberie, A Dirty War in West Africa:The RUF and the Destruction of Sierra Leone (London: C. Hurst & Co, 2005). 3 For a range of early contributions to this debate, see Mats Berdal and David Malone, Greed and Grievance: Economic Agendas in Civil Wars (Boulder, CO: Lynne Reiner, 2000). 4 Mats Berdal. “Beyond Greed and Grievance: And Not Too Soon . . . A Review Essay”, Review of International Studies, vol. 31, no. 4 (2005), p. 689. 5 Thandika Mkandawire. “The Terrible Toll of Post-​Colonial “Rebel Movements” in Africa: Towards an Explanation of the Violence against the Peasantry.” The Journal of Modern African Studies, vol. 40, no. 2: 181–​215 (2002), p. 182. 6 See, for example, David Keen,“Greed and Grievance in Civil War.” International Affairs 88, No. 4 (2012): 757–​777; and Ibrahim Abdullah, “Bush Path to Destruction: The Origin and Character of the Revolutionary United Front (RUF/​SL),” Africa Development /​ Afrique et Dévelopement 22, No. 3/​4 (1997). 7 Funmi Olonisakin. “The United Nations Mission in Sierra Leone.” In The Oxford Handbook of United Nations Peacekeeping Operations, edited by Joachim A. Koops, Norrie MacQueen, Thierry Tardy and Paul D. Williams (Oxford and New York, Oxford University Press, 2015), pp. 629–​641. 8 ‘Funmi Olonisakin, Peacekeeping in Sierra Leone:The story of UNAMSIL (Boulder, CO and London: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2008). 9 United Nations. The Report of the Panel on United Nations Peace Operations. UN Doc. A/​ 55/​305-​S/​2000/​809, 21 August 2000, p. 1. See also Olonisakin, “The United Nations Mission in Sierra Leone.” 10 Keen, David (2005) Conflict and Collusion in Sierra Leone (Oxford: James Currey), p. 274.

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11 Interviews with villagers, Kailahun, Sierra Leone, April 2010. See also: Kieran Mitton, Rebels in a Rotten State: Understanding Atrocity in Sierra Leone (London: Hurst/​Oxford University Press, 2015); Gberie, A Dirty War, p. 59; Krijn Peters, War and the Crisis of Youth in Sierra Leone (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), p. 63. 12 The NPFL fighters sent by Taylor to assist the RUF proved such a liability that the rebels demanded Taylor recall them. Remnants who refused to leave were killed by the RUF. See Mitton, Rebels in a Rotten State, p. 83. 13 See Gberie, A Dirty War; and Abdullah, “Bush Path to Destruction.” 14 Keen, Conflict and Collusion, p. 107. 15 Ibid, p. 203. 16 Ibid, p. 194–​195. 17 Peter A. Dumbuya, “ECOWAS military intervention in Sierra Leone: Anglophone-​ Francophone bipolarity or multipolarity?” Journal of Third World Studies 25, no. 2 (2008): 83–​102. 18 Peters, War and the Crisis of Youth, p. 77. 19 The 6th January 1999 assault has frequently been misreported as primarily the work of the RUF, but the first wave was led primarily by AFRC and West Sides Boys factions. 20 Olonisakin, ‘United Nations Mission in Sierra Leone’, p. 635. 21 Olonisakin, Peacekeeping in Sierra Leone, p. 56. 22 Keen, Conflict and Collusion, p. 253. 23 UN Security Council Resolution 1270 (October 22, 1999), UN Doc. S/​RES/​1270. 24 United Nations Secretary-​General, Fourth report of the Secretary-​General on the United Nations Mission in Sierra Leone, UN Doc. S/​2000/​455, May 19, 2000. 25 Keen, Conflict and Collusion, p. 265. 26 United Nations Secretary-​General, Fourth report, pp. 9–​10. 27 Ibid., p. 9; Adekeye Adebajo and David Keen, “Sierra Leone.” In Mats Berdal and Spyros Economides (eds.), United Nations Interventionism, 1991–​2004 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), p. 262. 28 An anonymised pseudonym. 29 Interview, Kenema, Sierra Leone, 27 March 2010. 30 See Keen, Conflict and Collusion, p. 262. 31 Vijay Jetley, Report on the Crisis in Sierra Leone, available at www.sie​r ra-​leone.org/​Other-​ Confl​ict/​jet​ley-​0500.html . 32 Olonisakin, “United Nations Mission in Sierra Leone”, pp. 635–​636. 33 Jetley, Report on the Crisis in Sierra Leone. 34 Ibid. 35 United Nations, Report of the Panel of Experts Pursuant to Security Council Resolution 130. UN Doc. S/​2000/​1195, December 20, 2000, p. 30. See also Keen, Conflict and Collusion, p. 266. 36 David H. Ucko, “Can Limited Intervention Work? Lessons from Britain’s Success Story in Sierra Leone”, Journal of Strategic Studies, 39:5–​6 (2016), p. 856. 37 Douglas Farah, “Old Problems Hamper U.N. In Sierra Leone”, The Washington Post, June 11, 2000. 38 Olonisakin, “United Nations Mission in Sierra Leone.” 39 United Nations, The Report of the Panel on United Nations Peace Operations, p. 45. 40 Adebajo and Keen, “Sierra Leone”, p. 262. 41 United Nations, The Report of the Panel on United Nations Peace Operations, p. 18. 42 United Nations Secretary-​General, Eighth Report of the Secretary-​General on UNAMSIL, UN Doc. S/​2000/​1199, December 15, 2000, para. 60.

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43 Olonisakin, “United Nations Mission in Sierra Leone.” 44 Keen, Conflict and Collusion, p. 272. 45 Interviews with ex-​RUF combatants, Kenema, March 2010. See also Keen, Conflict and Collusion, p. 272. 46 Interview, Kenema, Sierra Leone, March 28, 2010. 47 Keen, Conflict and Collusion, p. 272. 48 Interviews, Kailahun District, Sierra Leone, April 2010. 49 Ucko, “Can Limited Intervention Work?”, pp. 866–​867. 50 Multiple interviews with RUF combatants in Freetown, Kenema, and Makeni, 2009 –​2012. 51 See Kieran Mitton, “Where Is the War? Explaining Peace in Sierra Leone”, International Peacekeeping, vol. 20, No. 3 (2013): 321–​337. 52 Olonisakin, “United Nations Mission in Sierra Leone”, p. 639. 53 See Mitton, “Where Is the War?” 54 Ibid. 55 Keen, Conflict and Collusion, p. 254. 56 Ibid, p. 253. 57 Olonisakin, “United Nations Mission in Sierra Leone”, p. 638. 58 UN, Report of the Panel of Experts, p. 1. 59 Richards notes the 400 were held on suspicion of involvement in the shooting of protestors for which Sankoh had been detained, yet some were arrested a day before this occurred. He asks: “Who conceived this move, and why?” See Richards, Paul. “Peacekeeping in Sierra Leone: The story of UNAMSIL, by Funmi Olonisakin”, African Affairs, vol. 108, no. 433 (2009). 60 Olonisakin, “United Nations Mission in Sierra Leone”, p. 637. 61 Ibid, p. 638. 62 Keen, Conflict and Collusion, p. 274. 63 Interviews with senior ex-​RUF commanders, Freetown,April 2012.The ex-​commanders recounted warning Sesay not to give up the RUF’s only leverage without solid guarantees of amnesty for war crimes.They saw Sesay’s trust in personal assurances as naïve, and Sesay was indeed later indicted and convicted by the Special Court for Sierra Leone, as was Charles Taylor. 64 UN, The Report of the Panel on United Nations Peace Operations, 18. 65 Writing in 2009, Richards recognised the same failings of the international community in the “underfunded, under-​equipped and understaffed” mission in Darfur. Richards, “Peacekeeping in Sierra Leone”, p. 697.

Bibliography Abdullah, Ibrahim. “Bush Path to Destruction: The Origin and Character of the Revolutionary United Front (RUF/​SL),” Africa Development /​Afrique et Dévelopement, vol. 22, no. 3–​4, 1997: 203–​235. Adebajo, Adekeye and David Keen, “Sierra Leone”, in Mats Berdal and Spyros Economides, (eds.), United Nations Interventionism, 1991–​2004 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007). Berdal, Mats, “Beyond Greed and Grievance: And Not Too Soon ... A Review Essay.” Review of International Studies, vol. 31, no. 4, 2005: 687–​698. Berdal, Mats and David Malone (eds.), Greed and Grievance: Economic Agendas in Civil Wars. (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2000).

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Dumbuya, Peter A.“Ecowas Military Intervention In Sierra Leone:Anglophone-​Francophone Bipolarity or Multipolarity?”, Journal of Third World Studies, vol. 25, no. 2 (2008): 83–​102. Farah, Douglas. “Old Problems Hamper U.N. In Sierra Leone”, The Washington Post, June 11, 2000. Gberie, Lansana, A Dirty War in West Africa: The RUF and the Destruction of Sierra Leone (London: C. Hurst & Co, 2005). Hoffman, Danny, The War Machines:Young Men and Violence in Sierra Leone and Liberia (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2011). Jetley, Vijay, Report on the Crisis in Sierra Leone, available at www.sie​r ra-​leone.org/​Other-​ Confl​ict/​jet​ley-​0500.html . Keen, David, Conflict and Collusion in Sierra Leone (Oxford: James Currey, 2005). Keen, David, “Greed and Grievance in Civil War”, International Affairs, vol. 88, no. 4, 2012: 757–​-​777.Mitton, Kieran, Rebels in a Rotten State: Understanding Atrocity in Sierra Leone (London: Hurst and Oxford University Press, 2015). Mitton, Kieran, “Where Is the War? Explaining Peace in Sierra Leone”, International Peacekeeping, vol. 20, no. 3, 2013: 321–​337. Mkandawire, Thandika, “The Terrible Toll of Post-​ Colonial “Rebel Movements” in Africa: Towards an Explanation of the Violence against the Peasantry”, The Journal of Modern African Studies, vol. 40, no. 2, 2002: 181–​215. Olonisakin, ‘Funmi, Peacekeeping in Sierra Leone: The Story of UNAMSIL (Boulder, CO and London: Lynne Rienner, 2008). Olonisakin, ‘Funmi, “The United Nations Mission in Sierra Leone.” In Joachim A. Koops, Norrie MacQueen, Thierry Tardy and Paul D. Williams (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of United Nations Peacekeeping Operations (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2015): 597–​606. Peters, Krijn, War and the Crisis of Youth in Sierra Leone (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011). Richards, Paul, “Peacekeeping in Sierra Leone: The story of UNAMSIL, by Funmi Olonisakin”, African Affairs 108, No. 433 (2009): 696–​697. Ucko, David H, “Can Limited Intervention Work? Lessons from Britain’s Success Story in Sierra Leone”, Journal of Strategic Studies, vol. 39, no. 5–​6, 2016: 847–​877. United Nations, A/​55/​305-​S/​2000/​809, The Report of the Panel on United Nations Peace Operations, 21 August 2000. United Nations, S/​2000/​455, Fourth Report of the Secretary-​General on the United Nations Mission in Sierra Leone, 19 May 2000. United Nations, S/​2000/​1195, Report of the Panel of Experts Pursuant to Security Council Resolution 130, 20 December 2000. United Nations, S/​2000/​1199, Eighth Report of the Secretary-​ General on UNAMSIL, 15 December 2000. United Nations, S/​RES/​1270, Security Council Resolution 1270, 22 October 1999.

13 MINUSMA AND THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF MALI’S CRISES1 Arthur Boutellis

Over the course of 2020–​2021, Mali experienced two successive coup d’états in the span of only nine months. The May 2021 putsch, which has been termed a “coup within a coup”2, had much to do with tensions between the Malian junta wary of losing its grip on power and civilian transitional authorities. The earlier August 2020 coup that deposed former President Ibrahim Boubacar Keita (IBK) had deeper roots, however. It followed months of popular protests that called on President IBK to resign over his political manoeuvring and manipulation of electoral results following the March/​April 2020 parliamentary polls, his inability to address the deepening security crisis across the country, as well as to curtail government corruption and socio-​economic hardship.3 The recent coups are only the latest in a series of successive crises Mali has experienced since its independence in 1960. The way national, regional and international actors have managed these crises has over time contributed to creating a complex political economy of violence.4 The government in Bamako and its elite supporters have favoured short-​term military solutions to quell rebellions, but have failed to address the underlying political and economic causes of the crises. As a result, they have fed increasing public resentment not only in northern Mali, but also in large parts of the country against a centralised state and security forces often seen as predatory, as well as elites largely perceived as selfish and corrupt. The latest decade-​long cycle of instability in the country started in 2012 with a Tuareg rebellion, the fourth since Mali’s independence, bolstered by the return of soldiers with heavy weaponry from Libya following the fall of Muammar Qaddafi. The Malian armed forces’ poor performance in fighting this new rebellion triggered a coup d’état in Bamako in March 2012. The control over northern Mali by Tuareg rebels was short-​lived as jihadi groups took advantage of the situation to take control of Timbuktu, Gao and Kidal. In January 2013, the French-​led military intervention Operation Serval and the African-​led International Support Mission in DOI: 10.4324/9781003248637-15

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Mali (AFISMA) helped regain control of northern Mali and paved the way for the deployment of the UN Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in Mali (MINUSMA) in July 2013. Despite the brokering of a peace agreement between the Malian government and two coalitions of armed groups in June 2015, the overall security situation has deteriorated, spreading further south in Mali and beyond in the Sahel.5 This growing insecurity, the recent coups in Bamako, compounded with April 2022 French presidential elections and the arrival of Russian mercenaries from the Wagner Group, prompted President Emmanuel Macron to announce in February 2022 that France would end Operation Barkhane, its regional counterterrorism military operation in the Sahel, that same year. This decision calls into question the future ability of the Joint Force G5 Sahel (which Mali withdrew from in May 2020) and MINUSMA to continue maintaining and securing all their current bases across the country, given the deterrent and in extremis support roles Barkhane played.6 Meanwhile, the nine-​year-​old UN peace operation has entered a new phase. The Security Council requested MINUSMA “to develop a long-​term conditions-​ based transition approach to ensure a phased, coordinated and deliberate transition of security responsibilities” and other responsibilities to the UN Country Team and the government.7 It also asked the Secretary-​General to produce a long-​term road map that would be the basis for an eventual exit strategy for MINUSMA, effectively initiating discussions on mission transition but without a specific timetable.8 This chapter examines the major dimensions of the political economy of successive crises in Mali, including the role of elite bargains in state formation, illegal trafficking and increasingly deadly agropastoral conflict. It then looks at how the UN has attempted to analyse and, in some cases, respond to these challenges, both directly through MINUSMA and in partnership with others. Lastly, the chapter provides an overview of how the mission interacts with and inevitably becomes part of the political economy, and implications at a time when MINUSMA started developing a long-​term transition and exit plan. It argues that the Security Council focused on aspects of the political economy, particularly the link between organised crime (OC) and jihadist armed groups, to the exclusion of others, and without specific guidance to the UN mission on how to deal with these issues. While MINUSMA has taken innovative steps to better understand these dimensions –​and at times has pushed its mandate to respond to other dimensions, including agropastoral conflict –​it has done so inconsistently and without the benefit of strategic vision for how Mali’s political economy drives continue cycles of instability and violence.

The Major Political Economy Dimensions of Mali’s Crises The role of elite bargains and corruption in state construction has often been overlooked in Mali’s cyclical crises, but is increasingly recognised as being the root cause, due to poor governance and a repeated failure to build an inclusive state. Other important political economy dimensions of the crises include illicit

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trafficking in northern Mali and the related question of how to address economic governance by non-​state armed groups, as well as deadly intercommunal conflicts, particularly agropastoralist, over access to land and competition over gold mining, which have plagued central Mali and the larger Sahel in recent years and have been exploited by various jihadi groups to gain local anchorage.

State Construction, Elite Bargains, Corruption and Poor Governance Since gaining independence, Mali has experienced cycles of political instability due to two main factors. The first set of factors relates to centre-​periphery dynamics that decentralisation efforts failed to address. This led to the economic and political marginalisation of large parts of the country, episodes of state repression, and deals between elites in Bamako and leaders of certain tribes of northern Mali that were used as state proxies in a “divide-​and-​rule” strategy.The second set of factors relates to state corruption and poor governance, which also explain the repeated failures to build an inclusive, legitimate socially cohesive state, as well as well-​resourced defence and security forces and a credible justice sector. In 2020, Mali ranked 184 out of 189 countries on the human development index,9 with 90 per cent of the country’s poverty concentrated in the densely populated rural areas of the south where people survive off subsistence agriculture. The Sahelian country’s undiversified economy largely based on cotton, livestock and gold is vulnerable to commodity price fluctuations, the decline in cotton production and the poor performance of the agricultural sector, compounded with rapid population growth, the effects of climate change on food security, and cyclical political and security crises. The coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-​19) pandemic and political instability have tipped Mali into an economic recession, with an estimated two per cent contraction of the gross domestic product (GDP).10 The successive peace agreements signed between Bamako and armed groups of northern Mali (in 1992, 2006 and 2015) temporarily ended conflicts, but systematically failed to reconfigure the political settlement and address the core drivers of contestation … Instead, these agreements have created a form of governance that relies on a fragile ‘managed’ balance between different elite interests, each representing –​albeit unequally –​Mali’s multiple Northern communities.11 The painfully slow implementation of the 2015 Algiers agreement and the fact that it still holds highlights that the parties –​government and armed groups –​ and many of their appointed representatives from these different elites are more interested in the process and the personal financial and political benefits it can bring them, than in peace itself and the peace dividends it could bring to their communities.12 These elites are also often the first ones to criticise MINUSMA when the mission doesn’t serve their interest, under the claim of respect for Malian sovereignty.

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Centre–​periphery dynamics and marginalisation issues are not limited to northern Mali Tuareg and Arab populations (which formed the backbone of the 1963, 1991 and 2006 uprisings), however. The distrust in Bamako elites, and by extension in the Malian state and security forces often perceived as predatory, is shared by other communities of central Mali, who now represent the foot soldiers of the insurgency that started in 2014. Mali’s dominant southern elites have tended to focus on the needs of their immediate constituencies in the south, who also represent the majority of electors, directing state resources towards their own client networks.13 Prior to 2012, Mali was often regarded by outsiders as a model of good governance and democratic stability. Political dialogue and national consensus were regarded as part of the political culture. In practice however, “the post-​colonial period has been exclusively dominated by southern political and military elites, who have known each other for a long time and are used to working together”.14 The business elite, political class, civil society and traditional leaders are deeply interconnected, monopolising state and economic resources that are then distributed through a clientelist system of patronage.15 Nepotism and regionalism have in turn negatively affected economic development across the entire country, generated high levels of corruption, resulted in an ineffective justice sector and defence and security forces, as well as grievances towards the state –​all of which motivated the 2020 popular protests that called on President IBK to resign. When first elected in 2013, IBK had promised to root out corruption. Yet, he and his family would soon become the target of multiple accusations of routinised nepotism, favouritism and corruption, including the purchase of a new presidential aircraft in early 2014 and defence procurements, which raised questions among international donors short of calls for accountability.16 High levels of corruption at every level of the Malian state have eroded state legitimacy. Malians have come to increasingly rely on a range of non-​state actors for governance and service provision, including in some cases jihadi groups.17 Corruption within Malian defence forces is particularly damning, as it not only reduces their operational effectiveness and ability to protect populations, but also undermines democratic control and enables impunity for abusive behaviours.18 As numerous recent studies have highlighted, violations of human rights and negative experiences at the hands of state actors remain one of the most consistent factors in driving individuals to join jihadi groups in the Sahel.19

Illicit Trafficking and the Economic Governance of Non-​state Armed Groups Illicit trafficking is one of the most often studied dimensions of the Malian crisis, but is not always well understood. It is widely acknowledged to generate competition and violence between northern Mali armed groups, but OC has also co-​opted the state and key state institutions all the way to the capital Bamako, sometimes as part of regional networks, which makes the topic extremely sensitive politically.20

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In 2012, Wolfram Lacher pointed to the “destabilizing impact of organized crime in the region” and suggested that up until Mali’s military coup of March 2012, state complicity with organized crime was the main factor enabling [Al Qaeda in the Maghreb (AQIM)’s] growth and a driver of conflict in the north of the country. Actors involved in organized crime currently wield decisive political and military influence in northern Mali. Lacher also warned that “with few alternative sources of income in the region and none that can rival the gains to be made from criminal activity, taking strong steps to break up criminal networks could do more harm than good”, given the important source of livelihood this represents for many communities.21 Despite the official closure of the Algerian border in January 2013, informal cross-​border trade flows remain significant, with the illicit circulation of subsidised products from Algeria central to the survival of northern Malian society, representing up to 90 per cent of basic goods such as pasta, flour, powdered milk, semolina products, as well as fuel.22 The collapse of tourism in part due to hostage taking linked to Al Qaeda’s growing presence in the Sahel has further limited opportunities for employment outside the growing illicit and criminal sectors. The 2012 Malian crisis only worsened the situation, generating alliances and fluidity between criminal networks wary of preserving both their licit and illicit activities, and armed groups (including in few instances jihadi groups wary of the drying up of kidnap-​for-​ransom money), as well as successive governments in Bamako. As explained by Crisis Group, the influx of higher value illegal drugs, hashish in the 1990s and cocaine in the 2000s, has shaken up the local economy, and led to increasingly militarised competition between criminal networks both between and within ethnic groups, notably Arabs and Tuaregs, upending traditional hierarchies. The Malian state has not only been unable to prevent or regulate such trafficking, but has also backed business actors (who often also own licit businesses and real estate in Bamako as part of money laundering schemes) and ethnic militias controlling the transiting of drugs from Latin America to Europe through Mali.23 The November 2009 “Air Cocaine” episode of a crashed Boeing 727 in the Gao region suspected of having carried between 7 and 11 tons of cocaine24 brought this business to light and has had repercussions in the decade since in terms of revenge killings.25 One of the main suspects, Mohamed Ould Aweinat, incarcerated in 2010 but released two years later in exchange for the mobilisation of part of the Arab community against the Tuareg rebellion, recently took over the leadership of the Arab armed movement following the assassination of its leader Sidi Brahim Ould Sidati in Bamako in April 2021.26 During the 2014–​2015 peace negotiations that led to the signing of the Algiers agreement, OC was an “unspoken factor” only discussed behind the scenes, as armed groups often end up relying on the criminal economy for financing their

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activities.27 Unresolved issues, including rivalries between communities and armed groups, and competition over trafficking, continued to be a major source of violence between armed groups after the June 2015 signing of the agreement. This led conflict parties to initiate the Anéfis process in October 2015, which the international community initially saw as a business deal between traffickers, but would later support as part of the Anéfis 2 process in 2017 (discussed below).28 Lastly, the issue of artisanal gold mining has also gained prominence over the past couple of years, as it has experienced a boom across the Sahel-​Sahara. In Mali, it extends historically from the southern regions all the way to the Kidal northern region, which has experienced a gold rush since 2016. In a context where the state is weak and not able to oversee this rapidly expanding sector, artisanal gold mining has benefited a few “strong men” who control the means of production and various armed actors –​self-​defence groups, bandits, traffickers, rebel groups and jihadists –​ who at times challenge the state and other times cooperate with it.29 This situation is symptomatic of the bigger issue of economic governance by non-​state armed groups –​including in some cases jihadi groups –​in various parts of the country beyond the reach of the state. It ranges from gold mining to kidnapping (increasingly of Malians rather than foreigners), illicit trafficking, as well as cattle rustling. But it also involves mutually agreed, negotiated or coerced business partnerships with local economic actors, illegal taxation and extortion practices increasingly under the cover of the zakat (religious tax), and sometimes thrives on transnational supply chains extending all the way to coastal countries.30

Agropastoral Conflicts Grow Deadlier in Central Mali In March 2019, armed traditional hunters from a sedentary farmer Dogon community attacked and killed 175 Fulani/​Peul pastoralists in the village of Ogossagou in central Mali. The massacre caused large protests in Mali against the government’s perceived inaction and led to the resignation of one of the longest serving prime ministers of recent times, Soumeylou Boubèye Maïga.31 While this and other subsequent massacres (e.g. in Koulogon and Sobane-​Da) have often been reported in the media as being ethnically motivated, a number of researchers have since insisted on the need to see this violence in its wider political-​ economic and historical context. They caution in particular against interventions that are based on sectoral policies (supporting either farmers or pastoralists) that fail to take into account the political economy driving farmer–​herder conflicts.32 Livestock production represents a vital part of agricultural GDP in countries across the Sahel and contributes to 40 per cent of the agricultural GDP in Mali, subsistence agriculture being itself the main source of living for most Malians. Pastoralism is particularly well suited where land is arid and unfavourable for crop production and is instead well-​adapted to livestock production and moving herds according to the availability of water and pastureland.33 Agropastoral tensions and conflicts over natural resources such as land and water for farming and cattle among pastoralist groups and between nomadic pastoralists

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and sedentary farmers have a long history but are becoming increasingly violent. Competition over scarce resources is often put forward as the key driver of farmer–​ herder conflicts, when in fact governance plays a significant role. Traditional arrangements such as customary tenure and dispute mechanisms have increasingly become dysfunctional or are simply not able to cope with more and larger scale conflicts, while the state is often either absent, far away, expensive and corrupt.34 Tor A. Benjaminsen and Boubacar Ba argue that while climate change and population growth may play a role –​desertification of previously fertile lands, coupled with decreasing rainfall and the expansion of cultivated land –​the current conflicts can only be fully understood by including what they term a “political ecology” framing with a focus on “the material politics of land governance in a historical and political economic context”.35 From the 19th century, Fulani/​Peul military power dominated the plains of Mali and chased the Dogon in the nearby escarpment where most of the Dogon population lived. Dogons who did not want to abandon their farms had to accept integration into Fulani society as slaves of the higher status Fulani. Dogons have since gradually moved down again from the nearby escarpment to farm on the plains below, generating new tensions. In recent times, violence has been exacerbated by the fact that Dogon hunters have been supported and trained by the Malian army while Fulani groups have often been accused of having ties to jihadis.36 While not the source of these local conflicts, jihadi groups have proven adept in exploiting local grievances, diminished livelihood options and socio-​ political marginalisation among Fulani/​ Peul who found themselves in increasingly violent revenge killings with Dogon militias.37 The jihadi groups have also provided basic justice, security and relief from decades of state predation in areas under its control.38 Forced out of major towns by the 2013 French military intervention, they have since regrouped in rural areas from which the state is largely absent.39 Mali is therefore both a complex and changing operating environment for a UN peace operation. It combines domestic factors of state fragility related to a non-​inclusive dysfunctional state (e.g. elite bargains, centre–​periphery divisions, problematic security and political governance, and intercommunity tensions) with transnational factors related to illegal trafficking and expanding non-​state armed group economic governance, the circulation of combatants and weapons (after Libya’s implosion). Furthermore, the rise of jihadi groups linked to Al-​Qaeda and the Islamic State has been used to justify international and regional military counterterrorism interventions. All of these dynamics contribute to a prolonged situation that is neither war, nor peace, but a grey zone somewhere in between.

How the UN Has Attempted to Analyse and, in Some Cases, Respond to These Challenges MINUSMA was established on 1 July 2013.40 This peacekeeping mission has since undergone three major phases. During the first phase (2013–​2015), the mission

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supported the organisation of the 2013 elections that led to the restoration of the constitutional order (following the March 2012 military coup) and assisted the peace process that led to the 2015 Agreement for Peace and Reconciliation in Mali, also known as the Algiers Agreement. The second phase (2015–​2018) was characterised by the mission’s support to the implementation of the Algiers Agreement in addition to supporting the extension of state authority. The agreement provided the mission with a clearer political framework, captured in Resolution 2295 (2016), which also gave MINUSMA a “more proactive and robust” mandate. During this second phase, in 2017, the Security Council also established a parallel Mali sanction regime and, through resolution 2391, authorised MINUSMA to provide “operational and logistical support” to the Joint Force of the G5 Sahel (JF-G5S, a joint initiative of Burkina Faso, Chad, Mali, Mauritania and Niger). The third phase of the mission (2019–​2021) was marked by a shift of attention towards central Mali in response to the deteriorating security situation, adding a second strategic priority in resolution 2480 (2019) to “facilitate the implementation of a comprehensive politically-​led Malian strategy to protect civilians, reduce intercommunal violence, and re-​establish State authority, State presence and basic social services in Central Mali”, while maintaining the mission’s primary strategic priority to support the implementation of the Algiers Agreement. In 2020, the Council also requested the UN “to develop a long-​term conditions-​based transition approach to ensure a phased, coordinated and deliberate transition of security responsibilities” and to produce a long-​term road map with benchmarks that would lead to a possible exit strategy for MINUSMA,41 but the August 2020 military coup d’état shifted again international attention towards supporting the political transition. This section looks at how the UN has attempted to analyse and, in some cases, respond to the political economy challenges in Mali, both directly through MINUSMA, which has prioritised a law enforcement approach, but has also used good offices and experimented with local mediation and community-​based projects, and in partnership with others, notably since the establishment of the Mali sanctions regime and in support of the JF-​G5S.

Where Is MINUSMA’s Political Economy Unit? When creating MINUSMA in 2013, the Security Council foresaw the “serious threats posed by transnational organized crime in the Sahel region, and its increasing links, in some cases, with terrorism”, and emphasised the urgent need to address these issues. It also stressed “the need to work expeditiously toward the restoration of democratic governance and constitutional order” through the holding of elections, and to launch a “process of inclusive dialogue and active engagement with Malian political groups, including those who have previously advocated independence”.42 The sensitive political economy and governance root causes of the crisis were in the end glossed over by the Security Council, which, while emphasising the issue of transnational OC, did not give any specific guidance to the UN mission on

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how to deal with this issue nor state corruption, when in fact these could directly undermine the successful implementation of the mission’s mandate to support the reestablishment of state authority. The case of Mali reflects the disconnect between the growing recognition by the UN system that political economy and OC issues in particular cannot be ignored by peace operations and the fact that the UN system and member states are uncertain or disagree about how to approach these issues, with what tools and resources, but also probably about how to handle the political sensitivities and possible domino effects associated with attempting to look into some of these issues. As a result, when MINUSMA was created in 2013, neither the joint mission analysis center (JMAC) –​a multidisciplinary civil, military and police structure mandated to provide integrated strategic analyses for the senior management of peacekeeping missions –​nor the office of the Deputy SRSG/​Resident Coordinator and Humanitarian Coordinator, or the political affairs, civil affairs or security sector reform and disarmament, demobilisation and reintegration (SSR/​DDR) section, possessed such capacity –​and they still don’t. There is indeed no such thing as a political economy analyst job profile in the staff rosters for UN peace operations. Nevertheless, MINUSMA benefited from unprecedented information collection and analysis capabilities for a UN peacekeeping operation, notably on OC, due to the experimentation with a NATO-​standard All Sources Information Fusion Unit (ASIFU). ASIFU even briefly included a dedicated OC analyst out of the eighty European intelligence officers but lacked context and language skills.43 It was also unclear how the information it produced was acted upon by the mission, and the absence of clear Council mandate and mission leadership tasking on OC however meant the analyst would rotate out after a few months only and would not be replaced. The fact that ASIFU was not well integrated into the mission eventually led to it being merged with the U2 military intelligence branch of the MINUSMA force. The kind of criminal intelligence and political economy analysis required for analysing criminal networks and their impact on various mandated activities of the UN mission, such as mediation or DDR was not compatible with the methodology and purpose of the UN which was primarily to prevent attacks on peacekeepers.44 In an October 2013 report, the UN Secretary-​General had mentioned “the fight against corruption and organized crime” as an equally important governance challenge to the effective functioning of the Malian state, alongside security sector reform, national dialogue and reconciliation and justice.45 However, it was only in 2018 that the Council for the first time explicitly requested the UN mission to “enhance its awareness” of the issue of OC “in order to contribute to the definition of integrated and effective strategies”.46 While a welcomed step, it was a late one, and has not yet led to the required change of mindset within the mission.

The Inherent Limits of MINUSMA’s Capacity-​Building Approaches Amid a near-​absence of UN strategic guidance for peace operations on OC,47 the UN Police Division at UN Headquarters has taken the lead in promoting a law

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enforcement capacity-​building approach. MINUSMA was one of the first peacekeeping missions to operationalise this approach.A twenty-​five-​officer strong Serious and Organized Crime (SOC) unit was set up, tasked to support Malian authorities with counterterrorism and counter-​OC training and equipping, including a new Pôle judiciaire spécialisé. By dedicating specialised crime advisers covering a wide range of police techniques, the mission increased its ability to provide in-​depth expertise in the complex fields of forensics, criminal intelligence and large-​scale investigation, which improved working relations with Malian counterparts and helped them uncover links between different terrorist attacks in the sub-​region.48 What has been missing however is a more strategic and integrated approach by the UN that would consider the fight against state corruption as a foremost concern to be tackled in parallel at the macro and political levels, so that efforts at the operational and technical level to strengthen the capacity of local law enforcement agencies are not in vain. Short of this, the UN and broader international community took the risks of strengthening institutions that are part of the problem rather than the solution, and to build security institutions that risk collapsing –​or staging a coup –​because key issues of civilian oversight and governance of the security sector reform have not been properly addressed.Yet, of course, this risks antagonising the UN mission and its leadership with the host country government, whose consent they largely depend on. But there is also the risk that pushing an anticorruption agenda could in the short term at least further weaken the authority of the state the UN mission is mandated to support. Academic research advises refocusing security sector reform on human security and the needs of individuals and communities to avoid building the capacity of government structures which can inadvertently –​or sometimes by design –​support officials connected to crime.49 And indeed, several UN reports including the 2015 High-​Level Independent Panel on Peace Operations have emphasised the importance of people-​centred approaches to peace, which despite protection of civilian (PoC) mandates remain an uphill battle for peace operations that remain very state centric. More people-​centred approaches also seem key to reinforcing the confidence of the local population in their national institutions when many are tempted by alternatives offered by criminal or armed groups.50

MINUSMA’s Good Offices with Not So Good Guys The boldest political economy experiment the UN mission in Mali has been involved with has been in the domain of mediation, under its good offices and PoC mandate. Despite the signing of the June 2015 peace agreement in Mali, unresolved issues, including intercommunal and intergroup rivalries and competition, notably over trafficking, continued to be a major source of violence between armed groups in the following months. Both licit and illicit business actors were absent from formal negotiations and issues were not dealt with, even though they would occasionally invite themselves on the sidelines of the formal negotiation in late night discussions over ceasefire violations.

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Instead, the conflict parties –​initially, the two platforms of armed groups without the government –​initiated the Anéfis process in October 2015 as a first attempt at what Crisis Group called “peace from below” efforts to complement the top-​ down peace agreement with a bottom-​up process of addressing power-​sharing and intercommunal rivalries and facilitating the free movement of people and goods in northern Mali.51 At the time, the international community largely saw the process as a business deal between traffickers that had the potential to undermine, not complement, the formal peace process. Following a new round of clashes between armed groups in the summer of 2017 and an escalation of intercommunal violence, the then Special Representative of the Secretary-​General and head of MINUSMA, Mahamat Saleh Annadif, initiated discreet bilateral discussions that would result in an Anéfis 2 process from September to November 2017. Unlike the first process, Anéfis 2 benefited from greater facilitation and financing by the UN mission and the government of Mali. It also resulted in a “commitments” document signed by the government, with the international community, including MINUSMA and Algeria, serving as guarantors. Although Anéfis 2 did not alter the political economy of north Mali and may in some ways have contributed to consolidating the control of certain groups over trading routes through formalising a “division of the trafficking pie”, the agreement has considerably reduced violence by helping to address some of the underlying tensions between communities and armed groups that were not dealt with in the formal process.52 No risks–​benefits analysis of the UN mission being involved in such an experiment (which would have taken place without the UN anyways) or lessons learnt exercise has ever been formally carried out. The Anéfis 2 deal has since held, with another round of discussions held in Anéfis in early 2021, and the two main platform s of armed groups signing a Cadre Stratégique Permanent (CSP) in Rome early May 2021 to further coordinate and unify their positions and consolidate/​reaffirm their grip over northern Mali vis-​ à-​vis a Bamako elite tempted with reopening the Algiers agreement. Despite the semblance of stability as the two rival coalitions of signatory armed groups seem to have found a modus vivendi without formal state presence, the resuming of violence can’t be ruled out, notably if the Malian junta were to attempt a forceful military return to the North with the support of its “new” Russian military allies.

MINUSMA’s Experiment with Local Mediation in Central Mali The mission started looking at agropastoral conflicts in 2018, as they were leading to increasing levels of violence that threatened to destabilise central Mali –​despite the Malian government’s reluctance to recognise the problem –​after the Security Council asked MINUSMA to “facilitate the implementation of a comprehensive politically-​led Malian strategy to protect civilians, reduce intercommunal violence, and re-​establish State authority, State presence and basic social services in Central Mali”.53

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The other innovation for MINUSMA, since the addition of a second strategic priority for central Mali to its mandate54 has been a greater involvement –​notably by its regional office in Mopti –​in facilitating and/​or supporting various local peace deals between different communities. Local conflict dynamics in central Mali where the security situation has greatly deteriorated since 2015 were not addressed in the Algiers Agreement either, since it dealt primarily with the northern rebellion. As discussed in the previous section, conflict dynamics are extremely complex in central Mali, with jihadi groups exploiting local disputes between and within communities and feelings of marginalisation, but also community-​based armed groups and militias proliferating as a result. With the addition of this as a new strategic priority, but without additional resources for implementation, MINUSMA initially had to refocus its energy on trying to better understand these local conflict dynamics. Since late 2020, violence has reduced significantly in central Mali and markets have reopened in some localities, allowing the resumption of trade between communities. This is in great part due to some fifty local peace deals brokered in the region since 2019, which generally include a cessation of hostilities, forgiveness/​ pardon for past actions, and the call for the return of displaced populations. Some of these local deals were concluded with the support of governmental regional reconciliation teams, MINUSMA55 and/​or international or national non-​ governmental organisations (NGOs); some with support from the Haut Conseil Islamique du Mali (in March 2021 in Niono circle, Segou region, including the lifting of the “siege” of Farabougou) apparently with a mandate from the Ministry of National Reconciliation. Others seem to have been imposed by jihadi groups, generally excluding state return and introducing their versions of Islamic justice and education, which presents serious human rights –​including women’s rights –​concerns.56 While the MINUSMA-​supported local deals are generally the result of longer mediation processes (seven months in the case of Dounapen in Koro circle in 202057) and involve state representatives, their main added-​value seems to be the peace dividends they bring in the form of quick impact projects (QIPs) many financed through MINUSMA’s Trust Fund for Peace and Security in Mali. The mission observed that humanitarian and development projects played a pivotal role in bolstering reconciliation efforts and strengthening social cohesion at a local level, but also play a prevention role as jihadi groups tend to target communities where they can exploit pre-​existing divisions rather than villages with strong social cohesion.58 Many observers see these local deals as being primarily the result of communities being tired of the violence and displacements, and caution that they are fragile. While these local peace deals may limit the ability of jihadi groups to exploit local disputes and tensions, they do not fundamentally modify the political economy and jihadi groups continue to move around the areas and to exert pressure on local populations. The Malian state accompaniment of these local deals is therefore crucial, including through projects and social services if drivers of long-​standing

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conflicts are to be sustainably addressed. However, the return of the state –​too often conceived in Bamako as the return of the Malian army –​could also easily unsettle these fragile deals, several of which have collapsed already.

The Limitations of the MINUSMA’s Community-​Based Projects MINUSMA benefits from considerable project resources, notably through its Trust Fund for Peace and Security in Mali,59 to which donors have voluntarily contributed more than USD 70 million as of 2020,60 the UN Peacebuilding Fund (PBF), as well as QIPs and Community Violence Reduction (CVR) projects both funded by the mission. In central Mali, for instance, MINUSMA funded some 200 projects between 2014 and 2021. Most projects implemented by the UN mission in Mali are short term and approved in an ad hoc manner, rather than part of an overall mission strategy designed to address the political economy of recurrent instability. Regional stabilisation plans developed by MINUSMA largely focus on the shorter-​term protection of civilians. MINUSMA has always suffered from the absence of a genuine national political strategy for central Mali that would address deep-​rooted issues of access to land and water exacerbated by changing climate patterns. Due to limited progress on the implementation of the peace agreement that would enable actual DDR/​ demobilisation of elements from armed groups, MINUSMA has instead focused on implementing CVR projects. Consisting of vocational training and short-​term employment opportunities, these projects aim to reduce the risk of ex-​combatants (and community members) returning to conflict and participating in illicit activities. In central Mali, where there is no official DDR process (because the groups active there are not party to the Algiers peace agreement), the mission has implemented an average of 12 CVR projects per year. While the broader DDR community has recognised the added challenge of criminal economies and recently released updated international guidance (Integrated DDR Standards),61 providing alternative livelihoods to a trafficking economy is proving an illusion when a profound transformation of the economy is needed. Projects indeed only go so far. The challenge for all of these short-​term projects is how to align them with longer term goals articulated in a vision and end state of the mission in support of a (missing) Malian national vision. There is only so much impact a UN mission can have by itself on the political economy and leveraging partnerships with others is therefore key.

Targeting Traffickers: The UN Sanctions Regime for Mali The Security Council, while increasingly recognising the issues of criminal economies in Mali, rather than mandating the UN peace operation directly, has delegated dealing with OC and trafficking to a little-​resourced but regionally focused panel of experts mandated to monitor a sanctions regime established in September 2017,

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and to the regional joint force G5 Sahel mandated to combat terrorism, drug trafficking and human trafficking.62 Although MINUSMA was created in 2013 and the Algiers peace agreement signed in 2015, it took until the second half of 2017 for the Security Council to establish a sanctions regime for Mali, at the request of the Malian government, supported by the pen holder, France. The stated purpose of the sanctions regime is to encourage the implementation of the Algiers agreement and therefore complement the work of the UN mission. It specifically targets actors who would derail the peace process in Mali, in particular through travel bans and the freezing of assets. In December 2018, the Security Council designated the first three individuals identified under the newly established regime, two of them explicitly because of alleged implication in drug, oil and human trafficking.63 The reports of UN experts also clearly state that OC has been a driver of insecurity that threatens implementation of the Malian peace agreement and undermines the work of the UN mission. In July 2019, five more individuals were designated, including again members of armed groups also known to have been businessmen involved in trafficking, notably from the Arab Lemhar community.64 The list included an elected member of parliament, Mohamed Ould Mataly, and generated stronger discontent from the armed groups and public demonstrations including against the UN mission.65 Ould Mataly, a major actor of the peace process –​representing one of the Arab armed groups during the Algiers peace negotiations –​has been accused of impeding the implementation of the Algiers peace agreement. He had been coming to MINUSMA offices regularly and travelling in the UN mission’s flights, which he can no longer do. Despite this, in March 2021, the Malian transition government appointed him as an advisor to the president of the National Transitional Council (the legislative body), thus defying the UN Security Council with impunity. This episode illustrates the connivance between various Malian elites, and also the limited ability of the UN and the international community as a whole to alter the political economy even through constraining tools such as sanctions. The Malian junta itself became the target of sanctions imposed on the country by the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) in January 2022 when it became clear that it would not comply with the agreed road map for a return to civilian rule, suggesting that the transition period could be extended for up to five years. These sanctions paradoxically bolstered public support for the populist transition prime minister and could actually encourage a cash-​strapped junta to more actively seek financing from and collude with Malian and other regional criminal actors if this situation were to last.66

The Joint Force G5 Sahel and Transnational Crime The Joint Force G5 Sahel launched in July 2017. It includes an explicit mandate to combat transnational crime, including drug trafficking and human trafficking,

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in addition to terrorism. Sometimes misunderstood as being another peace operation of the type the UN or African Union would deploy, the JF-​G5S consists of a coalition of five armies, each initially operating in their own national territories in a strip of 50 kilometres on their respective sides of the border, with a right of pursuit; Chadian contingents were later deployed in the Liptako-​Gourma region in early 2021, but incidents of violence against civilians committed by members of the contingent deployed in Tera, Niger, drew attention to these deployments beyond national territory.67 The JF-​ G5S builds on about twenty joint cross-​ border military operations carried out in previous years with support from French force Barkhane, including planning, communication, air cover and medical evacuation, with French troops operating alongside African armies. It however remains unclear to this date how this military force with relatively limited means is supposed to implement the crime fighting component of its mandate. The importance of the cooperation between the JF-​G5S and the police and justice institutions of the five Sahelian countries quickly came to the fore, both to deal with arrested individuals –​to make sure they are prosecuted and convicted in court in compliance with the rule of law –​but also to prevent abuses committed by some of the G5 Sahel military forces. As international support for the regional force grew, including through MINUSMA following the adoption of resolution 2391 (2017), which authorised the UN to provide limited operational and logistical support to the JF-​G5S, this issue has become more pressing. Gendarmes are being integrated into military battalions and trained alongside specialised investigators and a police component, which has yet to be deployed alongside the military one.68 Yet, the fight against transnational crime and trafficking remains a secondary issue for international partners. International forces also at times find themselves in ambiguous situations when they collaborate for the purposes of counterterrorism with armed groups that they know are also linked to trafficking networks, in an ad hoc pragmatic deal making fashion.69 Despite reports of hundreds of “terrorists” and “traffickers” neutralised and arrested70 and that the joint force “patrols have disrupted the flow of illegal trafficking, including by considerably hampering the mobility of traffickers and other armed bandits”,71 it remains unclear how effective a largely military force can be in combating powerful and nimble transnational criminal networks with solid local anchors in the different Sahelian countries.

How the Mission Became Part of the Political Economy This third and last section provides an overview of how the mission interacts with and becomes part of the political economy of conflict and post-​conflict, and what implications this may have at a time when the discussion over a MINUSMA transition plan is starting.

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MINUSMA’s Political Economy Blind Spot and Limited Due Diligence Nine years into the life of the UN mission it is difficult to estimate what impact it would have had on the political economy of the country, and indeed many would argue this is not part of the mandate of the UN mission. When the UN does spend money directly or indirectly (through its staff) in the country, it usually benefits elites in the capital and the regions, and perpetuates inequalities. UN missions like MINUSMA seem to make decisions in relation to “operational support” without necessarily assessing or understanding the broader impact these may have on the local political economy. Local perceptions on this are often as important as realities and this is an area that would also benefit from more strategic decision-​making and communication. The most striking example of this blind spot is probably the apparent absence of due diligence. Although Mali was known to be significantly affected by OC, MINUSMA did not systematically assess the contractors and subcontractors it financed directly or indirectly, when in fact it is highly likely that someone who owns heavy vehicles (for transport, construction, water drilling, etc.) in northern Mali is linked to OC. This when some embassies in Bamako keep and update a blacklist, and when other UN missions like the ones in Somalia and Afghanistan have integrated due diligence and risk management into their procurement procedures and trained local NGOs and government institutions as well.72 While it may not be possible to completely “crime-​ proof ”73 a UN peace operation the size of MINUSMA, and criminal groups and corrupt officials will always try to benefit from the relative stability a mission brings, both procurement and capacity-​building efforts should be accompanied by adequate risk analysis to ensure that mission efforts are not in vain –​or even unwittingly contribute to strengthening corrupt and/​or abusive state institutions –​always bearing in mind that peace operations are themselves not immune to corruption. Ideally, mandates would even acknowledge the political economy impact of missions and the need to manage it.

Planning for Mission Transition: Political Economy Is Still an Afterthought Resolution 2480 (2019), while adding a second strategic priority to MINUSMA’s mandate in central Mali, also requested the mission “to develop a long-​ term conditions-​based transition approach to ensure a phased, coordinated and deliberate transition of security responsibilities” to the UN Country Team and the government, which the mission did in January 2020 before the two successive coups put transition plans on hold. As part of this process, the UN mission and the UN Country Team identified the following priority areas for intervention: (1) effective and accountable governance for a peaceful, just and inclusive society; (2) resilience of populations to conflict; (3) reconciliation in an environment of peace and security that is respectful

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of human rights and positive cultural traditions; (4) inclusive growth and environmental sustainability; (5) more equitable access to quality basic social services; and (6) achieving gender equality and empowering all women and girls.74 While these priorities relate to major political economy challenges, these integrated efforts between MINUSMA and UN development agencies also come late in the life of the UN mission (the UN Secretary-​General issued in 2019 a directive on transitions that requests missions to start planning for transition from the early stages of their lifecycles75), which has limited means and access in a highly unsecure environment. They also don’t seem to factor in adequately the relationship between the political economy of Mali discussed in the first section of this chapter and poor governance, underdevelopment and cyclical violence. The building of more inclusive and equitable social and economic development policies and institutions is no doubt essential and a generational endeavour, but without a better understanding of the multiple forces working against such inclusion because they benefit from the current system, it is unlikely that the mission or the UN agencies will be able to contribute meaningfully to it. Political economy is unfortunately still an afterthought.

Conclusion: What Can UN Peace Operations like MINUSMA Really Do about Political Economy? The international community’s somewhat muted reactions to the August 2020 military coup d’état, seven years into the presence of MINUSMA but also the French military presence (Operations Serval then Barkhane) and a European Union military training mission (EUTM), which have trained and equipped the Malian forces but failed to get them to reform76, were telling. Several researchers have warned about corruption, trafficking and governance issues for years.77 Yet there has been little self-​questioning among international institutions of the way support to the Malian state has failed to address the political economy at the root of the Malian crises, despite recent rhetorical emphasis on governance without necessarily adapting their old practices.78 So, what can UN peace operations like MINUSMA really do about political economy? Its one-​year mandate renewed every year is an obstacle to longer term governance approach; its focus on Track I peace process tends to favour elite bargains; and its state-​centric nature and reliance on host country consent makes it unlikely to speak truth to power or call for true accountability. This is however slowly evolving: strategic planning particularly for the transition and future exit of the mission is becoming more medium term; local mediation is gaining currency as a complement to Track I and a pragmatic violence reduction effort; and the UN mission in Mali has realised the limits of supporting a state that does not have presence and legitimacy in large parts of the country and is exploring pragmatic ways to be more people-​centred in its protection efforts. A further step would consist in more forcefully supporting the population’s calls for change and better governance. It will nonetheless take time for the crisis-​prone

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but still risk-​averse peacekeeping mindset to properly integrate political economy in its analysis and actions. A peacekeeping operation like MINUSMA has many issues to deal with, starting with the challenge of managing its own security while implementing a complex mandate. Integrating a political economy lens into its work does not necessarily mean actively changing embedded economic and power structures, but at a minimum a mission needs to be conscious that its presence and the implementation of its mandate are not neutral and present an opportunity to alter some, not all, governance root causes of the crisis and instability. A UN mission should do its due diligence, avoid feeding crime and corruption, and work to better understand political economy dynamics and how to work within these in implementing its mandate. Where possible, it should together with its partners also attempt to contribute to positive social, political, cultural and economic changes over the decade or more it is present in a country.This however will require to continue to adapt some of the UN tools, such as good offices, mediation, DDR and support to security sector reform, but also being more open about the risks and benefits of being more proactive in this area and the lessons to be learnt.

Notes 1 The author is grateful to those who provided comments on earlier drafts, including Colombe De Nicolay and Ornella Moderan. 2 “Mali, a Coup within a Coup”, Crisis Group, (June 4, 2021). 3 “Mali’s Military Takeover Puts Popular Protests in the Spotlight”, ISS Africa, (August 24, 2020). 4 Grégory Chauzal and Thibault van Damme, “The roots of Mali’s conflict: Moving beyond the 2012 crisis”, Netherlands Institute of International Relations Clingendael, CRU report, (March 2015). 5 Arthur Boutellis and Marie-​Joëlle Zahar, “A Process in Search of Peace: Lessons from the Inter-​Malian Agreement”, New York: International Peace Institute, (June 2017). 6 Norimitsu Onishi, Ruth Maclean and Aurelien Breeden, “France Announces Troop Withdrawal from Mali After 9-​Year Campaign”, New York Times (February 17, 2022). 7 United Nations Security Council Resolution 2480 (2019). 8 United Nations Security Council Resolution 2531 (2020). 9 United Nations Development Program, “Human Development Report: Mali” (2020). 10 World Bank, “Mali Overview” (April 28, 2021). 11 Nicolas Desgrais and Yvan Guichaoua. “Elite Bargains and Political Deals Project: Mali Case Study”, UK Stabilisation Unit (2018). 12 Boutellis and Zahar, “A Process in Search of Peace”. 13 Grégory Chauzal and Thibault van Damme, “The roots of Mali’s conflict: Moving beyond the 2012 crisis”, Netherlands Institute of International Relations Clingendael, CRU report (March 2015). 14 Ibid. 15 Isaline Bergamaschi, “Mali: patterns and limits of donor-​ driven ownership”, GEG Working Paper, No. 2007/​31, University of Oxford (2007). 16 Alex Duval Smith, “Mali Flies into International Storm over Purchase of $40m Presidential Jet”, The Guardian, (May 16, 2014).

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17 Mathias Bak. “Mali: Overview of corruption and anti-​ corruption”, Transparency International (June 2, 2020). 18 Seán Smith, “Building integrity in Mali’s defence and security sector”, Transparency International (October 2020). 19 Ornella Moderan, Habibou Souley Bako and Paul-​ Simon Handy, “Sahel counter-​ terrorism takes a heavy toll on civilians”, Institute for Security Studies (April 14, 2021). 20 Mark Shaw and Tuesday Reitano. “The Political Economy of Trafficking and Trade in the Sahara: Instability and Opportunities”, World Bank (December 2014). 21 Wolfram Lacher,“Organized Crime and Conflict in the Sahel-​Sahara Region”. Carnegie Paper (September 2012). 22 Sami Bensassi, Anne Brockmeyer, Mathieu Pellerin and Gaël Raballand, “Algeria-​Mali Trade: The Normality of Informality”, Middle East Development Journal, vol. 9, (2017). 23 “Drug Trafficking,Violence and Politics in Northern Mali”, Crisis Group Africa Report No. 267, (December 13, 2018). 24 “Transnational Organized Crime in West Africa”, UN Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) (February 2013). 25 “Drug Trafficking,Violence and Politics in Northern Mali”. 26 Arthur Boutellis, “MINUSMA’s 2021 Mandate Renewal in uncertain times”, EPON/​ NUPI (June 4, 2021). 27 Boutellis and Zahar, “A Process in Search of Peace”. 28 Arthur Boutellis, Delphine Mechoulan, and Marie-​ Joëlle Zahar, “Parallel Tracks or Connected Pieces? UN Peace Operations, Local Mediation, and Peace Processes”, International Peace Institute (December 2020). 29 Luca Raineri, “Gold Mining in the Sahara-​Sahel: The Political Geography of State-​ making and Unmaking”, The International Spectator, 55:4, 100-​ 117 (November 2, 2020). 30 Jeannine Ella A Abatan and Boubacar Sangaré, “Katiba Macina and Boko Haram Including women to what end?” ISS (March 2021). 31 “Mali government resigns after massacre, insecurity”. Reuters (April 19, 2019). 32 Ine Cottyn and Jos Meester, “  ‘Of Cattle and Conflict’ –​Rethinking responses to pastoralism-​ related conflicts”, Clingendael Institute’s Conflict Research Unit (August 2021). 33 Mulumba J.B. Kamuanga, Jacques Somda, Yacouba Sanon, Hamade Kagoné, “Livestock and regional market in the Sahel and West Africa Potentials and challenges”, OECD, p. 12 (2018). 34 Boubacar Ba and Morten Bøås. “Mali: A Political Economy Analysis”. NUPI (November 24, 2017). 35 Ibid. 36 Tor A. Benjaminsen & Boubacar Ba, “Fulani-​Dogon Killings in Mali: Farmer-​Herder Conflicts as Insurgency and Counterinsurgency”, African Security (May 13, 2021). 37 “Exploiting Disorder: al-​Qaeda and the Islamic State”. Crisis Group (March 14, 2016). 38 “Speaking with the “Bad Guys”: Toward Dialogue with Central Mali’s Jihadists”. Crisis Group (May 28, 2019). 39 “Forced out of Towns in the Sahel, Africa’s Jihadists Go Rural”, Crisis Group, (January 11, 2017). 40 United Nations Security Council Resolution 2100 (2013). 41 Boutellis, “MINUSMA’s 2021 Mandate Renewal”. 42 United Nations Security Council Resolution 2100 (2013). 43 Arthur Boutellis, “Can the UN Stabilize Mali? Towards a UN Stabilization Doctrine?” Stability: International Journal of Security and Development, 4(1), Art. 33 (June 25, 2015).

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44 Arthur Boutellis and Michael Beary, “Sharing the Burden: Lessons from the European Return to Multidimensional Peacekeeping”, International Peace Institute (January 2020). 45 United Nations, Report of the Secretary-​General on the situation in Mali, S/​2013/​582, para. 82 (October 1, 2013). 46 United Nations Security Council Resolution 2423 (2018). 47 In 2010, the Security Council noted in a Presidential Statement (S/​PRST/​2010/​4) the “serious threats” posed by drug trafficking and transnational organized crime and the financing of terrorism to “the security of countries on its agenda,” and invited the Secretary-​General “to consider these threats as a factor in conflict prevention strategies, conflict analysis, integrated missions’ assessment and planning and to consider including in his reports, as appropriate, analysis on the role played by these threats in situations on its agenda”. 48 Morgane Le Cam, “Un an après l’attentat de Ouagadougou, le point sur l’enquête”, Le Monde (January 16, 2017). 49 Niagalé Bagayoko, “Security Sector Reform Process in Mali”, Université Quebec Montreal (UQAM), (November 2018). 50 Sasha Jesperson. “Rethinking the Security-​Development Nexus: Organised Crime in Post-​conflict States”, Routledge Studies in Conflict, Security and Development (November 24, 2016). 51 “Mali: Peace from Below?” Crisis Group, (December 14, 2015). 52 Boutellis, Mechoulan, and Zahar. “Parallel Tracks or Connected Pieces?” 53 United Nations Security Council Resolution 2480 (2019). 54 Ibid. 55 MINUSMA’s involvement in local mediation reflects an increased engagement by UN headquarters and other peace operations in local mediation, particularly pastoralism-​ related insecurity. Peacekeepers have become more aware of the need to address these conflicts in the framework of their broader mandates, and of how they interlink with national dynamics. A better understanding of such dynamics is key to prioritize when, where and how to engage in local mediation. See Gabriel Delsol, “UN Peacekeeping Operations and Pastoralism-​ Related Insecurity: Adopting a Coordinated Approach for the Sahel”, IPI (July 2020). United Nations, “Preventing, Mitigating & Resolving Transhumance-​ Related Conflicts in UN Peacekeeping Settings”, (2020). Boutellis, Mechoulan, and Zahar. “Parallel Tracks or Connected Pieces?” 56 Field research conducted in Mopti in April 2021. 57 See dedicated case study in Seàn Smith,“Early Warning and Rapid Response: Reinforcing MINUSMA’s Ability to Protect Civilians”, Center for Civilians in Conflict (April 2021). 58 Field research conducted in Mopti in April 2021. 59 While some of the larger trust fund contributions went towards infrastructure projects (Germany funded a USD 14 million project to rehabilitate the airport’s runway in Gao), others were earmarked towards “tangible community impact projects” (notably around USD 10 million from Denmark and USD 3.5 million from the UK focused on central Mali). MINUSMA, Stabilization & Recovery website. Consulted March 21, 2022. https://​minu​sma.unm​issi​ons.org/​en/​stabil​izat​ion-​recov​ery. 60 MINUSMA, internal document. 61 United Nations, Integrated DDR Standards, Module 6.40. DDR and Organized Crime, (2021). 62 United Nations, Security Council Outlines Modes of Support, Reimbursement for Joint Anti-​Terrorism Force in Sahel, Unanimously Adopting Resolution 2391 (December 8, 2017).

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63 Arthur Boutellis and Kari Osland. “Preventing Organized Crime. The Need for a Context-​Sensitive, System-​Wide Approach”, NUPI (April 28, 2020). 64 An Arab faction originally from the Tilemsi valley North East of Gao town. 65 United Nations Security Council, Final report of the Panel of Experts established pursuant to resolution 2374 (2017) on Mali and extended pursuant to resolution 2432 (2018), S/​2019/​636, (August 7, 2019). 66 Charles Dietz, “How will sanctions on Mali affect the West Africa region?” African Business (March 2, 2022). 67 Ornella Moderan, Habibou Souley Bako and Paul-​ Simon Handy, “Sahel counter-​ terrorism takes a heavy toll on civilians”, Institute for Security Studies (April 14, 2021). 68 United Nations Office of Drugs and Crime (UNODC), “The G5 Sahel Police Component: A Unique Mechanism for the Restoration of Justice”, Consulted March 21, 2022. 69 “Drug Trafficking,Violence and Politics in Northern Mali”. Crisis Group Africa Report No. 267, (December 13, 2018). 70 United Nations, “Ignoring Sahel Region Will Have ‘Disastrous Implications’ for West Africa, Peace Operations Chief Warns Security Council”, Press Release (November 16, 2020). 71 United Nations Security Council, Report of the Secretary-​General on the Joint Force of the Group of Five for the Sahel, S/​2021/​442 (May 10, 2021). 72 Marc Jacquand, “Inside the Engine Room: Enabling the Delivery of UN Mandates in Complex Environments,” International Peace Institute (July 2019). 73 Louise Bosetti, James Cockayne, and John de Boer, “Crime-​ Proofing Conflict Prevention, Management, and Peacebuilding: A Review of Emerging Good Practice”, United Nations University (August 2016). 74 United Nations, Sustainable Development Group website: Mali. Consulted March 21, 2022. 75 United Nations, “UN Transitions: Sustaining Peace and Development Beyond Mission Withdrawal”, UN Transitions Project (DCO, DPO, DPPA and UNDP), (2020). 76 Denis M. Tull, “Mali, the G5 and Security Sector Assistance: Political Obstacles to Effective Cooperation”, Berlin, German Institute for International and Security Affairs (2017). 77 See for instance Andrew Lebovich, “How to ensure Mali’s coup leads to a true democratic transition”, European Council on Foreign Relations (September 4, 2020). 78 Alex Thurston, “The Hollowness of ‘Governance Talk’ in and about the Sahel”, ISPI (April 13, 2021).

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Benjaminsen, Tor A. and Boubacar Ba, “Fulani-​Dogon Killings in Mali: Farmer-​Herder Conflicts as Insurgency and Counterinsurgency”, African Security, 14(1): 4–​26, 2021. Bergamaschi, Isaline. “Mali: Patterns and Limits of Donor-​ Driven Ownership”, GEG Working Paper, No. 2007/​31, University of Oxford, 2007. Bosetti, Louise, James Cockayne, and John de Boer. “Crime-​Proofing Conflict Prevention, Management, and Peacebuilding: A Review of Emerging Good Practice”, United Nations University, August 2016. Boutellis, Arthur. “Can the UN Stabilize Mali? Towards a UN Stabilization Doctrine?” Stability: International Journal of Security and Development, 4(1), Art. 33, 2015. Boutellis, Arthur. “MINUSMA’s 2021 Mandate Renewal in Uncertain Times”, Effectiveness of Peace Operations Network/​Norwegian Institute of International Affairs (NUPI), 2021. Boutellis, Arthur and Kari Osland. “Preventing Organized Crime. The Need for a Context-​ Sensitive, System-​Wide Approach”, NUPI, 2020. Boutellis, Arthur and Marie-​Joëlle Zahar, “A Process in Search of Peace: Lessons from the Inter-​Malian Agreement”, New York: International Peace Institute, 2017. Boutellis, Arthur and Michael Beary. “Sharing the Burden: Lessons from the European Return to Multidimensional Peacekeeping”, International Peace Institute, 2020. Boutellis, Arthur, Delphine Mechoulan, and Marie-​ Joëlle Zahar. “Parallel Tracks or Connected Pieces? UN Peace Operations, Local Mediation, and Peace Processes”, International Peace Institute, 2020. Chauzal, Grégory and Thibault van Damme, “The Roots of Mali’s Conflict: Moving beyond the 2012 Crisis”, Netherlands Institute of International Relations Clingendael, CRU report (March 2015). Cottyn, Ine and Jos Meester,“ ‘Of Cattle and Conflict’ –​Rethinking Responses to Pastoralism-​ Related Conflicts”, Clingendael Institute’s Conflict Research Unit (August 2021). Delsol, Gabriel,“UN Peacekeeping Operations and Pastoralism-​Related Insecurity:Adopting a Coordinated Approach for the Sahel”, International Peace Institute, 2020. Desgrais, Nicolas and Yvan Guichaoua. “Elite Bargains and Political Deals Project: Mali Case Study,” UK Stabilisation Unit, 2018. Dietz, Charles, “How Will Sanctions on Mali Affect the West Africa Region?” African Business, March 2, 2022. Institute for Security Studies, “Mali’s Military Takeover Puts Popular Protests in the Spotlight”, ISS Africa, August 24, 2020. International Crisis Group. “Drug Trafficking, Violence and Politics in Northern Mali”, Africa Report N°267, 2018. International Crisis Group. “Exploiting Disorder: al-​Qaeda and the Islamic State”, 2016. International Crisis Group, “Forced out of Towns in the Sahel, Africa’s Jihadists Go Rural”, 2017. International Crisis Group, “Mali, a Coup within a Coup”, June 4, 2021. International Crisis Group. “Mali: Peace from Below?”, Crisis Group, 2015. International Crisis Group. “Speaking with the ‘Bad Guys’: Toward Dialogue with Central Mali’s Jihadists”, 2019. Jacquand, Marc. “Inside the Engine Room: Enabling the Delivery of UN Mandates in Complex Environments”, International Peace Institute, 2019. Jesperson, Sasha. “Rethinking the Security-​Development Nexus: Organised Crime in Post-​ conflict States”, Routledge Studies in Conflict, Security and Development, 2016. Kamuanga, Mulumba J.B., Jacques Somda,Yacouba Sanon, Hamade Kagoné, “Livestock and regional market in the Sahel and West Africa Potentials and challenges”, OECD, 2018. Lacher, Wolfram. “Organized Crime and Conflict in the Sahel-​Sahara Region”, Carnegie Paper, September 2012.

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Lebovich, Andrew. “How to Ensure Mali’s Coup Leads to a True Democratic Transition”, European Council on Foreign Relations, 2020. Le Cam, Morgane. “Un an après l’attentat de Ouagadougou, le point sur l’enquête”, Le Monde, January 16, 2017. Moderan, Ornella, Habibou Souley Bako and Paul-​Simon Handy,“Sahel Counter-​Terrorism Takes a Heavy Toll on Civilians”, Institute for Security Studies, 2021. Onishi, Norimitsu, Ruth Maclean and Aurelien Breeden, “France Announces Troop withdrawal From Mali after 9-​Year Campaign”, New York Times (February 17, 2022). Raineri, Luca. “Gold Mining in the Sahara-​Sahel: The Political Geography of State-​making and Unmaking”, The International Spectator, 55:4, 100–​117, November 2, 2020. Reuters, “Mali Government Resigns after Massacre, Insecurity”. April 19, 2019. Shaw, Mark and Tuesday Reitano. “The Political Economy of Trafficking and Trade in the Sahara: Instability and Opportunities”, World Bank, 2014. Smith, Alex Duval, “Mali Flies into International Storm over Purchase of $40m Presidential Jet”, The Guardian, May 16, 2014.Smith, Seán, “Building Integrity in Mali’s Defence and Security Sector”, Transparency International, 2020. Smith, Seàn, “Early Warning and Rapid Response: Reinforcing MINUSMA’s Ability to Protect Civilians”, Center for Civilians in Conflict, 2021. Thurston, Alex. “The Hollowness of ‘Governance Talk’ in and about the Sahel”, ISPI, 2021. Tull, Denis M. “Mali, the G5 and Security Sector Assistance: Political Obstacles to Effective Cooperation”, Berlin, German Institute for International and Security Affairs, 2017.United Nations, “Ignoring Sahel Region Will Have ‘Disastrous Implications’ for West Africa, Peace Operations Chief Warns Security Council”, Press Release (November 16, 2020). United Nations, Integrated DDR Standards, Module 6.40. DDR and Organized Crime, 2021.United Nations, “Preventing, Mitigating & Resolving Transhumance-​ Related Conflicts in UN Peacekeeping Settings”, 2020. United Nations, S/​ 2013/​ 582, “Report of the Secretary-​ General on the Situation in Mali”, 2013. United Nations, S/​2019/​636, “Final Report of the Panel of Experts Established Pursuant to Resolution 2374 (2017) on Mali and extended pursuant to resolution 2432 (2018)”, 2019. United Nations, S/​2021/​442, “Report of the Secretary-​General on the Joint Force of the Group of Five for the Sahel”, 10 May 2021. United Nations, “Security Council Outlines Modes of Support, Reimbursement for Joint Anti-​Terrorism Force in Sahel, Unanimously Adopting Resolution 2391”, December 8, 2017. www.un.org/​press/​en/​2017/​sc13​112.doc.htm United Nations, Security Council Resolution 2100, 2013. United Nations, Security Council Resolution 2423, 2018. United Nations, Security Council Resolution 2480, 2019. United Nations, Security Council Resolution 2531, 2020. United Nations, Sustainable Development Group Website: Mali. Consulted March 21, 2022. https://​unsdg.un.org/​un-​in-​act​ion/​mali United Nations, “UN Transitions: Sustaining Peace and Development beyond Mission Withdrawal”, UN Transitions Project (DCO, DPO, DPPA and UNDP), 2020.United Nations Development Program, “Human Development Report: Mali”, 2020. United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, “Transnational Organized Crime in West Africa”, 2013.

14 THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF PEACE OPERATIONS IN SOMALIA Ken Menkhaus and Paul D. Williams

Introduction Somalia occupies a special place in the history of international peace operations. It has arguably hosted more external peacekeeping, peace enforcement, stabilisation, state-​building and counter-​insurgency missions than any other country in the post-​ Cold War era. These have included the United Nations’ largest Chapter VII peace enforcement mission (the United Nations Operation in Somalia, or UNOSOM), as well as the largest and costliest African Union peace operation (the African Union Mission in Somalia, or AMISOM). Somalia has also been the site of some of the greatest frustrations for international peace operations and state-​building. The ambitious UNOSOM mission ended in armed conflict, failure and withdrawal in 1995. AMISOM and its 2022 successor entity the African Union Transition Mission in Somalia (ATMIS) have been on the ground in Somalia since 2007, but have had only limited success in achieving their evolving mandates, including stabilising the country against threats posed by the jihadi group Al Shabaab. Despite billions of dollars in aid dedicated to state-​ building, peacebuilding, security sector reform and economic development by a panoply of donors, Somalia remains one of the poorest and most insecure countries in the world, consistently ranked among the most corrupt and failed or fragile states.1 In summary, over thirty years of international efforts to revive a functional state and improve peace and stability have yielded only modest results. There are dozens of reasons for this poor track record in Somalia, all of which have been documented elsewhere. Some apportion blame on Somali leaders or society, while others focus on flawed international strategies, poor coordination or meddling neighbour states. Still others argue that the entire enterprise of intervention in failed states is doomed to fail, especially in a very short time frame. No DOI: 10.4324/9781003248637-16

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single cause alone can adequately explain the difficulties faced by external peace operations in Somalia, and this analysis does not purport to offer one. Instead, this chapter explores the salience of one of the more poorly understood factors –​the political economy dynamics which these peacekeeping missions have encountered and become a part of. Somalia’s political economy, we argue, constitutes a “nonpermissive environment” for peace operations –​not a guarantee of failure, but an added difficulty for already challenging missions. Specifically, this study contends that within the first year of Somalia’s descent into state collapse and civil war in 1991, powerful local actors became stakeholders in perpetuation of conditions of state weakness, varying levels of political violence and ineffective rule of law, or what David Keen termed in another setting “durable disorder”.2 These conditions initially enabled powerful armed groups to engage in predatory activities ranging from extortion to land grabbing to looting of food aid. Over time, some of these actors transitioned to more quasi-​legitimate political and private sector enterprises –​a shift “from warlord to landlord”.3 In recent years, Somalia’s political economy has evolved further, due to a fragile political settlement between elites that has produced an equally fragile state, creating new sources of revenue to divert and an elite compact for division of the spoils that has reduced somewhat the use of political violence as a tool of appropriation. Central to this political economy, argues Claire Elder, has been the rise of a logistics contract system of “tenderpreneurship” in which procurement and service delivery contracts are principal items of contestation and political influence. “The logistics economy”, she argues, [is] a deeply unstable and volatile system of political clientelism that entrenched co-​dependence between political and economic elites, harmful competition, and clan and class conflict, demarcating and constituting the boundaries of moral politics…. [T]‌he logistics economy unveils a system of ‘interactive disorder’ whereby it financially engineered a toxic politics and state failure.4 The Somali political economy today is loosely governed by rules or norms on the use or threat of violence, routinisation of extortion, expectation of political payoffs, employment of well-​honed systems for disguising diversion of funds flowing through the government and donor agencies, and negotiated arrangements between rivals involving an admixture of collusion and conflict. In this complex political economy, possession of militia power, money and social capital –​principally but not exclusively based on clan affiliations and lineage obligations –​is key to political survival and advancement. Systemic corruption is baked into this political economy. In this context, international peace and state-​building operations in Somalia are both influenced by and shape the political economy. Such missions are a critical source of finances and resources over which political elites and their supporters struggle. By serving as the primary source of resources and contracts over which

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political elites compete, these missions are, whether they are aware of it or not, at the very centre of the political economy. External provision of military aid, in the form of training, equipment and salaries for Somali security forces, is meant to build an inclusive and integrated security sector, but has instead provided political elites in control of those forces with enhanced clan-​based militias, often used to advance parochial personal and/​ or clan agendas. Though intended as a means to help Somalia transition from armed conflict and state failure, external peace operations and state-​building missions have become embedded in a political economy that helps to perpetuate the very conditions external actors are hoping to transform. For some of the most powerful Somali political actors and networks in the country, externally funded missions are viewed as valuable projects to perpetuate, not goals to be achieved. Existing conditions of state weakness, insecurity, the threat of terrorism and weak rule of law are not, for this group, a problem to be solved; they are conditions in which important constituencies have learnt to operate and even thrive, and is their preferred political ecosystem. Perpetuation of insecurity and state weakness also continues to require the large African Union (AU) force, and attracts billions of dollars in foreign economic and military aid that would presumably shrink were Somalia to defeat Al Shabaab, stabilise the countryside and build effective governance.5 Though it claims otherwise, a case can be made that Al Shabaab has interests in ensuring that external peace operation and state-​building missions stay in Somalia but remain largely ineffective. And though peacekeepers and state-​builders have often worked hard to maintain impartiality, their procurement, rents, subcontracting, employment, outsourcing, and geographic targeting of aid and operations are viewed by Somalis as deeply political acts that can tip the local balance of power. This analysis, while sobering, is in no way meant to imply that peace operations and state-​building in Somalia are doomed to fail, or that spoilers will prevail. Coalitions of Somali leaders are committed to advancing the political transition towards a state of genuine peace and rule of law, and if given the right combination of strategy, time and support, may manage to move the country towards sustainable security and governance that will allow for withdrawal of peacekeepers.

Background Recent History In 1991–​1992, Somalia experienced an intense crisis of war, state collapse and dislocation that left enduring legacies. When the repressive Siyad Barre regime fell, rival militia leaders were unable to agree on a provisional government. Violent lawlessness, land grabbing, ethnic cleansing and civil war swept southern Somalia. Most of the capital Mogadishu was damaged or destroyed. One million Somalis fled as refugees, many forming the basis for the large Somali diaspora today. A war economy developed, centring on predation of the large, weak farming groups in

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southern Somalia. Repeated looting produced a famine that cost 250,000 lives. Relief efforts were stymied by systematic diversion of food aid by militias. That led in December 1992 to an unprecedented US-​led, UN-​authorised peace enforcement operation, the United Task Force (UNITAF), which transitioned to a UN-​led mission (UNOSOM II) in May 1993. UNOSOM stepped into a chaotic and violent context. It failed to broker national reconciliation and rebuild the Somali state, and was drawn into a disastrous armed conflict with one of the principal militia leaders and his faction. Its withdrawal in 1995 led to a period of relative international disengagement from Somalia from 1995 to 2002. A second era of peace operations in Somalia was prompted by the creation in 2004 of a transitional federal government (TFG), and the need to protect the nascent government. The TFG, which was negotiated in neighbouring Kenya, met with resistance from Mogadishu-​based factions and clans. It was only able to establish a presence in the capital in December 2006, following an Ethiopian invasion and occupation of southern Somalia which routed the Islamic Courts Union (ICU) which had briefly extended control over much of southern Somalia. The TFG immediately faced the threat of attack by the military wing of the ICU, which came to be known as Al Shabaab, and relied on protection provided by Ethiopian forces. To protect the TFG and allow for the gradual withdrawal of Ethiopian forces, the AMISOM force began deploying to Somalia in March 2007. It initially numbered just 1,600 troops, had poor logistical support, and was outnumbered by Al Shabaab.6 As documented below, it was an extremely challenging environment for the AU peacekeepers. In 2012, Somalia moved –​at least on paper –​from a transitional to a post-​ transitional government. This was largely the result of donor pressure on the TFG to hold indirect elections. Those elections produced the Federal Government of Somalia (FGS). The FGS, first led by President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, became the recipient of considerable external assistance in ensuing years. AMISOM grew to over 20,000 troops. The UN Support Office for AMISOM (UNSOA), a UN operation providing logistical support to AMISOM, was expanded following its establishment in 2009. The UN Assistance Mission in Somalia (UNSOM) was formed in 2013, with a mandate that includes provision of policy advice on peacebuilding, state-​ building, security sector reform, rule of law, federalism, constitutional review and democratisation.7 In addition, numerous bilateral and multilateral donors poured resources into the Somali security sector and state-​building. Personnel working for the UN, AMISOM, embassies, donor agencies and the many contracting companies poured back into the capital. The heavily guarded “city within a city” known as Halane that formed around the international airport and that became home to thousands of international personnel was emblematic both of the level of international re-​engagement and the chronic insecurity they faced in the country. As discussed below, it also became a critical part of the wider political economy of intervention.

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This robust external support led to funds pouring into the country. The Somali security sector alone attracted an estimated $1.5 billion in military aid per year, and by 2020 constituted 80% of all paid government employees.8 The country received $2 billion in development and humanitarian aid in 2020 as well.9 It also benefited from a debt relief agreement with the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund under the Heavily Indebted Poor Countries (HIPC) initiative, potentially reducing its $5.2 billion debt to about $500 million, and making it eligible for new grants and loans.10 This rapidly expanding portfolio of development, humanitarian and military aid gave President Mohamed Abdullahi Farmaajo, who assumed office in 2017, far more resources than his predecessor. The federal government budget increased from a paltry $39.5 million in Fiscal Year 2012 to $260 million in 2017 to $671 million in 2021.11 Those increased state resources did not catalyse expanded capacity and performance of the government. They instead were mainly harnessed in political battles with domestic rivals, or were diverted into private pockets.

The Somali Political and Socio-​Economic Context The Somali political economy features both continuities and transformational changes, so the context in which AU peacekeepers have operated since 2007 is distinct from the situation into which UNOSOM was plunged in 1993.The following are some of the most important features of the Somali political economy: •

•

•

Poverty and unemployment: Somalia was one of the poorest countries in the world even before it descended into civil war in 1988–​1991. High levels of poverty, unemployment and food insecurity have remained a constant. The rural sector, comprising mainly of pastoral or agro-​pastoral communities and farming villages, has faced severe challenges, resulting in destitution and distress migration to Somalia’s fast-​g rowing cities. Precarious livelihoods have created fierce competition for resources, land and employment, puttings pressure on political leaders to divert resources to their constituents. In some cases, populations have been more preoccupied with the jobs, contracts and rent associated with the presence of peacekeepers than with the actual peace those forces were meant to contribute. Remittances and the diaspora: The precariousness of the Somali economy has been partially offset by the rise of a remittance economy fuelled by the generosity of the 1–​1.5 million Somali diaspora.The diaspora is responsible for remitting an estimated $1.5 billion –​about 20% of the national gross domestic product (GDP) –​back to Somalia per year, mostly to relatives.12 Remittances are a major source of local purchasing power that helps sustain the wider Somali economy. Land disputes: The Somali civil war produced large-​scale displacement and land-​grabs, especially in valuable cities and riverine zones of southern Somalia. That legacy endures, resulting in long-​simmering tensions and conflicts in local communities over who has the right to live where. Both UNOSOM and

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•

•

AMISOM had to navigate communal violence, often exploited by Al Shabaab, over contested land. Clan and clannism: Somalia is a segmentary lineage-​based society, in which every Somali is a member of a clan-​family that can be broken down into increasingly smaller lineages. Which level of lineage matters politically is situational and fluid. Clannism has been cited as a major factor dividing Somalis and contributing to the country’s prolonged crisis, and is manipulated by both Somali elites and external actors. But clannism endures in part because it also plays critical roles in the day-​to-​day lives of Somalis –​as a source of protection, customary law, access to resources and social welfare –​in the absence of an effective state. High levels of distrust between clans, borne of years of violence and ethnic cleansing, endure in Somalia, but Somalis also forge many relationships and partnerships across clan lines. Clan interplays with the Somali political economy in complex ways. On the one hand, political and community leaders are under pressure from their lineage to maximise control of jobs and resources. At the same time, political elites frequently mobilise and manipulate clan to advance their own parochial interests. Private sector actors have even more complex relations with clannism. Businesspeople are expected to generate jobs for their own lineage, and in return enjoy the clan’s protection.They can also manipulate clan to gain an advantage over rivals. But they also need to build partnerships across clan lines in order to have access to markets in regions dominated by other clans. To manage clan competition, Somalia has adopted a clan-​based proportional representation system, called the “4.5 formula”, to ensure some degree of equitable representation in government. Somali communities carefully watch the allocation of international humanitarian, development and military aid to see if it flows disproportionately to one clan or another. The clan implications of contract and employment decisions create significant challenges for international actors seeking to maintain impartiality but often possessing limited understanding of the intricacies of clannism. If aid or peace operations support a national or local government dominated by one clan, or extend contracts to private sector actors only from one clan, that is viewed locally as reinforcing ethno-​hegemony and is contested. Urbanisation and contested cities: Somali cities are growing at very rapid rates; are the site of most available social services, jobs and amenities; feature valuable real estate; and are among the most contested areas of the country.They are also overwhelmingly the site of most political violence in Somalia. Indeed, during the 21st century, Mogadishu and several other Somali towns have been among the most deadly urban centres in all of Africa.13 Both UNOSOM and AMISOM deployed primarily into urban centres, which pose unique challenges for peacekeepers.14 Somali cities have attracted concentrations of non-​state armed groups, ranging from gangs to clan-​based paramilitaries answering to neighbourhood or district authorities. Urban centres are also the main locations of formal government authorities claiming roles in local

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•

•

security arrangements. Peacekeepers must work with and through complex and disputed local urban authorities, must understand how hybrid governance arrangements at the local level operate and must avoid becoming embroiled in local power struggles. Finally, Somali cities have proven to be dangerous and challenging operating environments for peacekeepers when confronted by an armed resistance movement employing asymmetrical urban war tactics. In both 1993 and the post-​2007 period, UNOSOM and AMISOM faced armed groups that exploited Mogadishu’s maze of densely populated neighbourhoods and congested main roads, as well as trenches and tunnels, to ambush peacekeepers and elude direct engagement. However, the urban context of peacekeeping in Somalia changed significantly from the UNOSOM to AMISOM era. In 1993–​1994, southern Somalia’s cities were badly damaged by war. Since 2011, Mogadishu and to a lesser extent other southern Somali cities have enjoyed an impressive revival, with hundreds of millions of dollars of real estate investment reshaping them. This is turn has increased the number of Somali stakeholders seeking to avoid armed conflict that risks damaging property. Notwithstanding Al Shabaab’s periodic attacks on prominent hotels and restaurants, warfare is “bad for business” in Somalia’s main cities. Calibrated political violence, however, remains on the menu of options. Private sector dominance: The prolonged collapse or weakness of the government has meant that most services and public goods in the country are provided by the private sector.Though some non-​profit services exist –​funded either by international aid or by Somali self-​help efforts –​most education and health care is privatised and accessible only to those who can pay.15 Likewise, utilities (power grids, piped water and telecommunications) and key infrastructure (sea ports and air strips) have mainly been operated by private businesses. The private sector is powerful and plays an important behind-​the-​scenes role in Somali politics and in political violence. Though this varies by sector and issue area, Somalia’s private sector has generally been unenthused about the revival of the state’s capacity to tax, regulate and provide services; peacekeeping and state-​building work that inadvertently threatens powerful private sector interests risks being undermined. At the same time, external peace operations and state-​building missions are lucrative sources of contracts for the local business community. Privatisation of security: Somali communities quickly developed informal systems to provide for themselves a modicum of security and order in a context of state failure. Better-​off Somalis rely on private security to protect themselves, their homes and their businesses. International aid and diplomatic personnel who must move around the city also rely on private security services. In the 1990s, these were relatively crude arrangements with local militias, but later evolved into formal businesses. These companies are lucrative and often include high ranking political figures among their owners. They thrive in an environment of at least low levels of chronic insecurity, which perpetuates the need for their services.16

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•

In consequence, they do not always share international peace operations and state-​building missions’ enthusiasm for a strong security sector. Private security firms are one of the fastest growing sectors of the urban economy. International aid and dependence: During both the UNOSOM (1993–​ 1995) and the post-​2007 AU peace operations period, Somali communities in the vicinity of peacekeepers grew dependent on assistance, jobs, rents and contracts generated by the large international presence. UNOSOM paid so many Somali employees that every two weeks, when it paid out local salaries, an estimated 20% of all Somali shillings in currency were exchanged for dollars between the local money-​changing contractor and UNOSOM.17 By contrast, AMISOM has relied more on international contractors. But the AU’s missions have been part of a much larger international presence devoted to state-​ building and development. Overseas development aid to Somalia totalled $2 billion in 2020.18 Of the $671 million 2021 FGS budget, over 60% was derived from international aid contributions.19 Peacekeeping and state-​building operations in Somalia were and are very substantial sources of finances on which Somali governments and society depend, and hence are at the heart of political economy struggles. Importantly, most of this money remains concentrated in the capital Mogadishu; it has far less impact on the rest of the country. This disproportionately benefits clans that dominate the capital, and hence has significant impact on clan politics.

Political Economy of the UNOSOM Operation (1992–​1995) The dramatic arrival of 37,000 personnel in the US-​led, UN-​sanctioned peace enforcement operation in December 1992 (UNITAF) transformed much of the war economy that had laid waste to southern Somalia in preceding years. But elements of that political economy would re-​emerge as UNOSOM wound down in early 1995.

The Civil War Political Economy The political economy of the civil war was based on the use or threat of violence to acquire resources. Factional/​clan militias were the principal actors, and constituted loosely bound bands of unpaid gunmen who usually shared a close clan relationship, and who fought to loot. Above them, militia leaders –​known then as warlords –​and their top financial backers earned windfall profits from the commanding heights of the war economy. The main types of wartime livelihoods in this highly insecure and violent period included: •

Looting: Government buildings, embassies, warehouses and residences were plundered in the capital and main cities. In the countryside, farmers and some pastoralists were repeatedly raided to the point of starvation. The country’s largest agro-​industrial investment, the $220 million Jubba Sugar Project, was

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•

•

•

•

•

•

•

completely dismantled and sold in neighbouring Kenya for scrap metal by General Mohamed Farah Aideed’s financial backer, reportedly for $1 million. Checkpoint tolls: Armed groups established roadblocks on main roads and demanded payment for passage. This was a particularly dangerous living, and one that endures to this day. Extortion and protection rackets: Armed groups quickly learned that demanding protection money from a local community was a safer way to earn a living with a gun than looting. Though predatory, some of these arrangements began to evolve into neighbourhood watch groups that blurred the line between mafia-​style protection rackets, vigilantism and nascent private security groups. Key to this arrangement was the fact that the armed groups created the threat of insecurity from which they then offered protection. Even the short-​lived UNOSOM I peacekeeping force, a 900-​person unit sent in mid-​1992 to monitor proposed ceasefires and protect humanitarian aid, was forced to pay protection money to surrounding militias in Mogadishu.20 Land grabbing: Valuable urban property, and high-​value riverine agricultural land, was expropriated by armed settlers. The armed occupants then imposed sharecropping arrangements on the dispossessed small farmers, most of whom came from weak and marginalised social groups. “Taxation” of imports at seaports and airstrips: Points of entry for imports and travellers were prized assets, fought over by militias. Much of the importation in this civil war consisted of humanitarian aid; warlords took a cut at the seaport, and charged landing fees at airstrips.21 Rent: As international aid agencies poured in to respond to the worsening humanitarian crisis, armed groups demanded very high rent for housing and vehicles. Aid agency security: All relief agencies –​even the International Committee of the Red Cross –​had to rely on armed protection from local militia in order to remain safe in their compounds and move on the roads. The price was very high, and enriched militia commanders. In Mogadishu, the cost of security for a non-​governmental organisation (NGO) compound reached $100,000 per week, and was considered “the cost of doing business” in Somalia.22 Not surprisingly, militia control over areas where aid agencies were active became a top priority. This increased militia presence and fighting in the very areas hardest hit by famine. For their part, the aid agencies, keen to downplay the enormous security costs of their operations to their headquarters, referred to the militia protection in their financial reports as “technical assistance”, earning the militia battlewagons the unusual nickname “technicals”.23 Food aid diversion: Though militias and their commanders were paid to protect aid operations, they also orchestrated attacks on food convoys, and looted villages after food aid was distributed. In parts of southern Somalia, food aid became the most valuable commodity over which militias fought. Some reports estimated that 50% of food aid never reached its intended target.24 This claim was an important justification for the UNITAF/​ UNOSOM

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intervention. According to this view –​which was not universally shared in the aid community –​international humanitarian aid had become a central part of the war economy and was fuelling the very war that was causing the famine.

UNITAF and UNOSOM II UNITAF’s massive armed intervention in December 1992 was intended to take direct control of major entry points, transit corridors and distribution sites for humanitarian aid, to break the back of the famine. It was also tasked with imposing security across the country, which it achieved by requiring all militia weapons –​ from technicals to hand-​held guns –​off the streets. Its successor, UNOSOM II (hereafter UNOSOM), was given a much more ambitious mandate by the UN Security Council, which tasked it with, among other things, maintaining security, facilitating refugee repatriation and promoting national reconciliation, “including the re-​establishment of national and regional institutions and civil administrations through broad participation of all sectors of Somali society.”25 This latter mandate was an ambitious peacebuilding and state-​building project, especially since the UN had never attempted such as thing in a collapsed state before, and given the very short time frame (3 years) envisioned. The immediate task of ending the famine was completed within weeks, and was a resounding success. It allowed relief agencies to expand beyond food distribution to other pressing needs, including medical aid, water and sanitation projects, and early phases of support to devastated local communities to rebuild livelihoods. But forcing militias to cease activities and hide their weapons was a profound shock to the local political economy. Suddenly, much of the revenues earned through the threat or use of violence were gone.26 This placed militia leaders at a disadvantage at precisely the same time they were competing for power in a UN-​led reconciliation and state-​building process that privileged grassroots rather than top-​down claims on legitimate political authority.27 Militia leaders and their clan constituencies that controlled valuable real estate via military conquest, not popular referendum, were also threatened by the prospects of local communities selecting their own district councils. For some of the country’s warlords, the UN peace enforcement mission posed a threat to their political survival. Some international observers warned that a warlord would try to disrupt the mission. That fear was realised in June 1993 when General Aideed launched an attack on a UN convoy in Mogadishu, leading to the deaths of 24 Pakistani peacekeepers and the beginning of the disastrous four-​month war between UN forces and General Aideed’s clan militia, which controlled most of south Mogadishu where the UN operation was headquartered. Though Aideed was able to prevail in his short-​term goal of derailing UNOSOM, the choking of the wartime economy that fed his coffers and those of other militia leaders had a long-​term impact. Within a few years of the UNOSOM withdrawal, most of the militia commanders who dominated the Somali scene in the early 1990s faded into irrelevance, and their factions ceased to exist.

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The UNITAF/​UNOSOM missions did not, however, eliminate all forms of the predatory political economy. For militia, opportunities to parlay the threat of violence into a livelihood remained. In displaced persons camps, food aid deliveries attracted robbers who moved from shelter to shelter stealing the provisions. Even with 37,000 troops, UNITAF could not patrol and protect camps from this predation. Protection rackets grew as well, as did the hiring of private guards by an emerging business community.Work as a private security guard was valued as a safer and more respectable way to make a living with a gun. Many financial backers of the militias, and some militia commanders themselves, took advantage of the new opportunities to serve UNOSOM’s enormous needs to transition to legitimate business activities. While much of the logistical support to the UN mission was provided by the US military, and large logistical and procurement contracts went to international firms such as Brown and Root, UNOSOM poured about $1.5 billion into the local economy each year in 1993 and 1994. This generated many contracts for procurement of goods and services, ranging from local produce to transportation to construction projects.28 Indeed, while UNOSOM failed in its principal peacebuilding and state-​building mission, it inadvertently helped to promote the rise of an increasingly robust business class in Somalia, which was keenly interested in UNOSOM’s continued presence. One study later concluded that “[s]‌ome of the giants of the present day Mogadishu business sector” got their start securing UNOSOM contracts.29 Even financial backers of General Aideed, who supported his war against UNOSOM, profited from UNOSOM and hoped the mission would stay on.30 Their intent was to defang it, not drive it away. This emerging business class was investing in fixed assets –​hotels, telecommunications companies, private schools, local power companies –​which required a degree of stability.While businesspeople employed violence to advance their business interests, and colluded with militia commanders when it suited them, they had no interest in returning to full-​scale war and looting. The new political economy that UNOSOM helped to create was initially heavily dependent on contracts for UN services. This was precarious, as the UN mission was not expected to last for more than a few years. It was also contentious. UN procurement teams were not always aware of the clan and other implications of their choice of contractors, and so made allocation decisions that could roil local politics. Some of this was geographic and largely unavoidable. UNOSOM’s choice to base its headquarters in the expansive compound of the US embassy –​a sprawling enclosed area in south Mogadishu –​placed it squarely in the middle of neighbourhoods controlled by General Aideed’s militia and clan. In consequence, most of the money spent on salaries for local employees, as well as vehicle rental, property rental, building and other contracts were captured by Aideed’s clan and its business leaders. Other clans complained bitterly that UNOSOM was enriching their rival. This same dynamic occurred in outlying regions where peacekeepers and civilian UN staff were based –​invariably one clan came to dominate and “capture” contracts and jobs with the mission. In other cases, UN procurement

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offices were well aware of the factional affiliation of the businesspeople with whom they dealt, but kept contracts out of the public eye. Not surprisingly, allegations circulated of widespread corruption in UNOSOM procurement.31 One particularly lucrative contract was money-​ changing. The UN mission required massive amounts of Somali shillings to pay local salaries and services, and the businessperson who acquired that contract made enormous profits buying up and then exchanging shillings for dollars. The money-​changing contracts in Mogadishu and outlying posts attracted the attention of rival businessmen, who demanded the service rotate among them, and when that did not occur, the businessman with the contract was assassinated. Though the informal rules of the game regarding use and threats of violence have changed in the Somali private sector in ensuing years, elimination of competition through violence remains a legacy from the early 1990s. UNOSOM coincided with an explosion of activities by UN specialised agencies and international NGOs, focusing on humanitarian, rehabilitation and other projects in what was then referred to as the “relief to development” continuum. Their presence generated opportunities for Somalis possessing high-​end homes and compounds to rent to international agencies, typically at very inflated prices. The lucrative rental market in Mogadishu triggered disputes over ownership, as some homes had changed hands during the 1991–​1992 land grabbing epidemic. Fights over rent and ownership led to violence and fatalities, and previewed what would become one of the most intractable features of the Somali political economy –​unresolved property disputes. The tendency for international aid agencies (and UNOSOM, which retained housing rentals in some areas) to cluster in relatively well-​protected neighbourhoods near the international airport also produced winners and losers in the local political economy, as some clans benefited disproportionately while others lived in districts untouched by the international presence. The expansion of international aid increased the need for local counterpart organisations to implement projects. The sudden demand for “local NGOs” in 1993–​1994 produced an explosion of “pocket NGOs” looking to secure contracts with international NGOs but without any capacity, staff, or even a functioning office. While a small number developed into genuine civil society organisations, most were fronts controlled by armed factions and their financial backers. The vast majority of them evaporated with the withdrawal of most of the aid community in 1995. The contracts generated by the UNOSOM operations and their attendant international aid organisations thus created an entire new sector in Somalia, but one which resembled a Potemkin village, and which perfectly illustrated what Tobias Hagmann has described as the “politics of extroversion” in Somalia –​local institutions that direct almost all of their energies towards, and derive most of their finances and legitimacy from, external actors rather than their own constituencies.32 A similar dynamic occurred with UNOSOM’s attempt to revive the Somali state from the bottom up by supporting the selection of local district councils. At least on paper, more than half of the pre-​war districts in Somalia had formed a

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21-​person district council in the 1993–​1994 period.The councils were intended by UNOSOM both to create a local governmental authority and provide representation in regional councils and a national parliament. In reality, the district councils performed neither of those roles. Instead, they were seen locally as a means of interfacing with and managing international aid organisations. International NGOs that had become accustomed to operating without accountability to any local authorities were generally unenthused about the new district councils, questioned their legitimacy and sought to circumvent them. Only a small number of district councils remained functional following the UNOSOM withdrawal. Their short-​lived existence, and the very different roles they played from those envisioned by officials in UNOSOM’s Department of Political Affairs, reflected a dynamic described by Markus Hoehne as “isomorphic mimicry” in Somali governance –​that is, creation of institutions that appear similar to those of developed countries on the surface, but with no capacity or interest in performing any of the functions of those institutions.33 This latter dynamic has endured in Somali politics. The UNOSOM experience also offered an early glimpse of a dynamic that later became a central feature of the Somali political economy –​namely, the tendency of some local parties to view state-​building, peacebuilding and development efforts as projects to perpetuate rather than as goals to achieve. UNOSOM officials and their colleagues in development agencies were frequently confounded by local behaviour that, in the interest of extending contracts and employment, undercut objectives. To take one example, the UNOSOM “3D” (Demining, Demobilisation and Disarmament) Office trained Somali non-​profits in demining techniques and awarded them contracts to demine specific sites. Payment was based on the number of mines cleared. The savvy local NGOs quickly realised that they would lose these lucrative contracts if their areas were cleared of mines, and so purchased cheap mines and planted them to keep themselves in business. Demining as a goal was undercut; demining as a business enterprise was perpetuated.

Post-​UNOSOM Political Economy Towards the end of the UNOSOM mission, as the peacekeepers began withdrawing, armed groups again made livelihoods providing security for a fee for remaining aid agencies. The cost of security was so high, however, that most aid agencies eventually withdrew. Kidnapping for ransom became a new means of earning a livelihood but drove wealthy businessmen to relocate with their families to Dubai or Nairobi, and led aid agencies to operate “by remote control” in Nairobi, relying on national staff to implement projects and, in the process, shifting the security risks onto their shoulders. Somalia was largely left to its own devices from 1995 to 2004, and the enormous political economy built around UNOSOM and the aid agencies shrank. Local protection rackets, checkpoints and private security remained options for young gunmen, but little remained for those at the commanding heights of the predatory political economy that had thrived in the early 1990s. The private sector

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was saved in this period by a happy confluence of events –​the rise of a large Somali diaspora able to remit money to relatives, thereby sustaining local consumer demands; the telecommunication revolution, which enabled movement of funds globally by remittance companies at very low transaction costs; and the rise of new opportunities for untaxed transit trade from Somali beach ports overland into the lucrative Kenyan market. Between the UNOSOM and AMISOM eras, the Somali private sector shifted away from reliance on contracts and rent, and towards fees for service delivery and consumer demand generated by Somalis and markets in neighbouring states. In the process, the private sector learned to navigate and even thrive in a context of state collapse, chronic insecurity and local “hybrid governance” arrangements.34

Political Economy of the AMISOM Mission (2007–​2022) Authorised by both the AU Peace and Security Council and the UN Security Council, AMISOM was the AU’s longest, largest, most deadly and most costly peace operation, peaking at around $1 billion per year.35 It operated until May 2022, when it transitioned into the ATMIS. Having started with just 1,600 troops in March 2007, by 2017 AMISOM was the world’s largest peace operation, peaking at over 22,000 uniformed personnel. Its mandate involved a complex mixture of urban warfare, VIP protection, counterinsurgency and stabilisation. Although the details of its mandated tasks altered over the years, its three key strategic objectives endured, namely, protecting the TFG and then FGS authorities; degrading Al Shabaab; and helping to facilitate a transition whereby Somali security services could assume responsibility for national security. AMISOM’s relationship with Somalia’s political economy was shaped by the fact that the mission arrived into a city at war –​with Ethiopian and TFG forces against Al Shabaab, as well as some local warlords who still controlled parts of the city –​and with an already well-​established set of political economy dynamics. For instance, AMISOM’s heavy equipment needed to travel by sea into the Mogadishu seaport, which required AMISOM to establish one of its four initial bases there. As a consequence, the Banadir Group, which managed the port, won several large infrastructure contracts with AMISOM.36 For five years, AMISOM only operated in Mogadishu, where it fought a bloody series of battles to expand its footprint across the city and expel Al Shabaab’s main forces. Because of its economic importance, it was no accident that the final campaign to jettison al-​Shabaab forces from Mogadishu centred around the city’s biggest commercial zone, Bakara Market. AMISOM estimated that control of Bakara generated Al Shabaab $30–​$60 million per year in taxes on sales and protection fees.37 Bakara was so central to Mogadishu’s political economy that AMISOM took the decision to declare it a “no-​fire zone”. When, in 2011, the AU and TFG troops launched their campaign to push Al Shabaab out of Mogadishu, they proceeded from three sides of Bakara, leaving Al-​Shabaab one pathway to leave the city without destroying this central economic hub.38

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Between 2007 and early 2012, AMISOM was only deployed in Mogadishu, with Uganda and Burundi being the only troop-​contributing countries (TCCs). In 2012, AMISOM’s area of operations expanded to cover the whole of south-​central Somalia and hence it was exposed to the country’s broader political economy dynamics. Four other states –​including all Somalia’s neighbours –​deployed troops in the mission: Djibouti (2011), Kenya (2012), Sierra Leone (2013) and Ethiopia (2014).39 The period after 2009 and especially post-​2012 (when the TFG transitioned into the federal government), when AMISOM experienced its greatest expansion, saw many business elites gain political office, including as parliamentarians.40 Once in office, they devoted much of their energies to securing contracts from the state or international actors. Procurement and other contracts become an important currency of corruption. AMISOM itself was not the biggest source of economic opportunities for the Somali private sector. Unlike UNOSOM, it did not hire thousands of Somali employees and tender lots of local contracts –​it relied more on external contractors and UN support offices for most goods and services.41 But the wider state-​building, stabilisation and security sector reform efforts by international actors during the AMISOM mission injected a massive amount of money into the Somali economy and into state coffers, transforming the Somali political economy of the previous decade and helping to fuel significant private sector investments in real estate and businesses in the capital.

AMISOM’s Internal Political Economy AMISOM is notable for the unusual system of financing the mission itself.42 During its initial phase (2007–​2009), it was funded by the TCCs (Uganda and Burundi), with major help from their key bilateral partners (notably the US and UK). This was a very difficult time for AMISOM peacekeepers: poor supply lines left them without many basic infrastructural and logistical necessities. For example, the mission had to buy food from local sellers. As one internal UN assessment noted, With the help of [US] DynCorp contractors, the Ugandans had sourced rice, meat, fruit, and water locally. They brought in live cows for beef and cooked in huge pots over charcoal fires. Sourcing locally served a dual purpose. It meant they were not solely dependent on flights from Entebbe to keep them alive, but they also wanted to ensure they were giving something back to the local community.43 Even by late 2009, AMISOM troops were cooking without refrigeration and using charcoal.44 Sanitation and nutrition was so poor that an outbreak of wet beriberi infected several hundred AU peacekeepers –​over 50 requiring medical evacuation abroad, and four died.45 From 2009, however, the situation improved when other donors stepped into key roles. While the US and UK continued to help train and equip the mission,

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the European Union (EU) paid the allowances of its uniformed contingents, while the UN financed AMISOM’s logistics via an unprecedented mechanism known as the Support Office for AMISOM (UNSOA), which was renamed as the Support Office for Somalia (UNSOS) in 2015. EU monies for the allowances did not go directly to individual peacekeepers but instead went to the AU, which then disbursed them to the TCC governments. Each of these governments retained between 20% and 50% of these allowances. Some, most notably Burundi, also delayed or withheld payments, which incentivised their peacekeepers to make money via other means while deployed in Somalia, such as purchasing cheap electronic and other goods in Somalia and selling back home. Having paid a much higher cost for these allowances than it initially envisaged in 2009, the EU cut these payments by 20% in 2016. Since the AU failed to find a donor to make up this reduction, AMISOM peacekeepers were left with official allowances of $800 per month (minus what their government retained). Compare this to UN peacekeepers who by 2014 were receiving approximately $1,400 per month but also to Somali National Army soldiers who received only about $150.46

The Political Economy of AMISOM’s Main Base Unsurprisingly, AMISOM’s main base at the Mogadishu airport became a hub for a variety of economic activities, some licit, some illicit. Given the mission’s huge expansion between 2007 and 2012, there were lots of construction and engineering tasks to develop the base. When the first Ugandan troops arrived, the base was almost devoid of infrastructure. Troops had to set up camp in the scrub and bush. With no walls or fixed perimeter, Somalis regularly came and went. As the base grew and was fortified, a small group of Somalis set up kiosks inside it, mainly selling food and small personal items. However, in 2009, AMISOM removed these shops from its base because it was suspected some Somalis connected to them had passed on information facilitating al-​Shabaab attacks, including a suicide attack in September in AMISOM’s base which killed 19 peacekeepers, including the deputy Force Commander. The expansion of the base resulted in the heavily guarded “city within a city” known as Halane around the international airport, and that became home to thousands of international personnel, ranging from diplomats to contractors. This created a significant market for VIP lodging and security as an indirect spin-​off of AMISOM’s and, from 2013, UNSOM’s presence. A symbolic example was Bancroft Global Development’s decision to build a hotel inside the base to accommodate the increasing number of international visitors. Many Somali entrepreneurs and politicians partnered with international firms to develop the dozens of guesthouses, hotels, restaurants, transport, logistics and security services that sprung up in Halane. Allegations of corruption and theft by AU peacekeepers also emerged as early as 2008. They involved allegations of AMISOM personnel illicitly trading goods and mission supplies, including rations, fuel, equipment and even HESCO defensive barriers, sandbags and ammunition.47 This resulted in some AMISOM TCCs

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establishing courts martial in Somalia to try suspects. Uganda’s President Yoweri Museveni made a public show of prosecuting dozens of AMISOM personnel on corruption charges. Ironically, AMISOM was also simultaneously trying to stop Somali security forces from selling weapons and ammunition on the open market by overseeing their ammunition storage and even strictly rationing their supplies of ammunition.48 The biggest case of AMISOM corruption involved the illicit trade in charcoal. In February 2012, at the TFG’s request, UN Security Council resolution 2036 banned charcoal exports from Somalia because of benefits Al Shabaab was deriving from the trade. However, Kenyan troops in AMISOM who had captured Kismayo were accused of breaking the UN ban and skimming off revenues generated at the city’s lucrative deep-​water port, which was a key export location for charcoal from the region’s acacia forests.49 While the local business community in Jubaland clearly wanted the ban on charcoal exports lifted, which was arguably their main source of revenue, critics alleged that the KDF’s control of Kismayo port enabled them to keep some proceeds from the illicit trade in charcoal.50 The implicit collaboration between Kenyan peacekeepers, the Jubaland authorities and Al Shabaab over charcoal exports shows how economic incentives can sometimes trump both ideological commitments and mission mandates. Finally, there were also persistent allegations that AMISOM peacekeepers were paying for prostitution in and around their Mogadishu base camp. In 2014, Human Rights Watch accused AU peacekeepers of collaborating with Somali interpreters to bring women and girls onto the base for sex.51 Some Burundian soldiers even filmed themselves bartering for sex with what appear to be Somali schoolgirls around the perimeters of the base.52

The Political Economy of Training and Equipping AMISOM A sizable international political economy also developed around the training and equipping of AMISOM personnel. This was an external market with Somalis playing almost no roles beyond providing interpreters and some support services. Initially, Ugandan and Burundian troops received training and equipment from the US and UK, but also from the contractor firm Bancroft Global Development. The US Global Peace Operations Initiative (GPOI) provided considerable training and equipment for AMISOM TCCs. US government support also extended to some counter-​terrorism programmes because of Al Shabaab’s designation as an Al-​Qa’ida affiliate. These counter-​terror programmes were much larger and involved more types of assistance and lethal equipment than peacekeeping support programmes. As well as training, the US also provided ammunition and vehicles, including from 2016, military helicopters for Kenya and Uganda. In 2011, the US also provided AMISOM with its first small Raven drones for improved surveillance. For its part, the UK provided early support to Uganda. It mainly supported AMISOM force headquarters, and provided training for Ugandan infantry battle groups and the small maritime unit used to guard Mogadishu’s coastline.

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The Political Economy of Financing the Somali Security Sector After the Somali National Army (SNA) was officially re-​established in 2008, a market developed around training, equipping and advising its troops. Similar but cheaper initiatives appeared later to resurrect the rest of Somalia’s official security sector too, notably the police, justice and corrections services. From 2013, UNSOA was mandated to support 10,900 SNA personnel who were engaged in joint operations with AMISOM, a number which increased over time. Consisting of food, water, fuel, transport, tents and in-​theatre medical evacuation, this support was funded via a UN Trust Fund for AMISOM and the SNA. Other external actors also helped finance the Somali security sector. Among the main players were the US government (sometimes via contracting private firms like Bancroft Global Development and VALAR); the EU, which established a training mission in 2010 (based in Uganda until 2014);Turkey, which mainly trained SNA troops abroad but in 2017 built a major military facility in Mogadishu; the UK, which provided mainly headquarters support to SNA units around Baidoa as well as policing support; and the UAE, which ran a small training programme from 2013 until 2018, when its relations with the Farmaajo administration deteriorated.

The Political Economy of UN Procurement Contracts and Political Analysis Overall, it is difficult to say how much money AMISOM’s presence put directly back into the local economy via the awarding of UN contracts. But UNSOA/​ S, UNSOM and UNOPS all offered a considerable number of contracts, some of which went to Somali firms. UNSOA was particularly reliant on private contractors because it was explicitly designed as a light-​footprint model with very few UN personnel based in Somalia. Most of the large contracts went to international firms, often with good connections with their respective governments.53 Table 14.1 summarises the Somali firms that received UNSOA/​S contracts after 2012, which probably totalled over $45 million. Some Somali firms also received UNOPS contracts. These were mostly under $500,000. For example, under “peace and security support” since 2018, Somali firms awarded contracts included UGBAAD Developers, Pioneer Construction, Afrah Construction, Easyway General Services, Rubaab Safety Solutions, Ridwaan Supplies, SAAFI Logistics, Raasi Training & Logistics, and Diamond General Trading.54 As with UNOSOM, to some degree UN contracts could not help but generate political and clan-​related jealousies. But between 2017 and 2019, the awarding of UN contracts –​especially large ones for maintenance, fuel and infrastructure –​ became heavily politicised, with President Farmajo accusing the UN and AMISOM of siding with some of his political rivals.55 There were also explicit UN–​AU partnerships in some areas, notably strategic communications support. Here, the UN paid for a variety of private firms

The Political Economy of Peace Operations in Somalia  297 TABLE 14.1  Somali Firms Awarded UNSOA/​S Procurement Contracts, 2012–​2022a

Vendor

Commodity Group

Year(s)

Value US$ Approx.

Deeqa Construction & Water Well IAG International

Engineering, Design, Construction Engineering, Design, Construction

2017–​18

18.5 million

IAG International Star General Trading Co.

Facilities Management Engineering, Design, Construction Engineering, Design, Construction Engineering, Design, Construction Engineering, Design, Construction Communications Communications Training & Recruitment Waste Management

2012, 2013–​16, 2020–​21 2020–​21 2012, 2020–​-​21 2020–​21

4.1 million +​ unspecified 2013–​16 1.75 million 1 million

2020–​22

6 million

2020

330,000

2020–​21 2020–​21 2020–​21 2020–​22

390,000 650,000 235,000 1.4 million

Security Services

2021–​23

8.1 million

Travel Management

2021–​23

240,000

Mogadishu Stars General Trading Co. Docol Construction Afrah Construction Somcast Networks Somlink Telecom Somalia Aviation Service Yusro Cleaning & Property Service Duguf Enterprise Security Services Puntland Professional Service

890,000

a Data obtained from the United Nations Procurement Division, Contract Awards Datbase www.un.org/​Depts/​ptd/​fr/​contr​act-​awa​rds

to support AMISOM strategic communications strategies designed to reduce the influence of Al Shabaab’s propaganda and enhance the mission’s preferred narratives with its main target audiences.56 This Information Support Team was particularly notable because it was one of the few areas within AMISOM that hired a majority of Somalis. In comparison, AMISOM and UNSOA tended to hire relatively few Somalis, often out of concern about security risks of infiltration by Al Shabaab. Although relatively small in financial terms, a political economy also developed around conflict analysis. UNSOM, for example, provided financial support for a variety of research projects designed to improve conflict analysis of the mission and its partners.57 Other notable cases include SAHAN, which won numerous contracts to deliver analysis to a variety of international actors in Somalia, and newly created local entities such as the Heritage Institute for Policy Studies and Hiraal Institute. Over time, a market also developed around monitoring and evaluating various external state-​ building activities. In 2020, for instance, Dansom

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Research and Consultancy won a $1.3 million UNOPS contract to provide a range of monitoring and evaluation services.

The Wider Somali Political Economy in the AMISOM Era Compared to the previous two decades, the Somali economy post-​2010 saw a dramatic expansion of local wealth, investment and purchasing power, mainly in Mogadishu, and a few of the country’s other larger urban centres. Mogadishu saw a remarkable spike in real estate development and new businesses, mainly in the service sector. Private sector services expanded in education, health care and security. Though little of this new wealth impacted the poorer portions of the population –​ the country remained among the least developed in the world –​it provided new opportunities for accumulation for the wealthier, more powerful tier of society. The two main sources of this new wealth were foreign assistance pouring into the country –​which supported both direct services and lots of contracts and employment –​and the continued flow of remittances from the diaspora, which by this point was not only providing family members with stipends but was also a major source of real estate investment. The flow of foreign aid into government coffers during this period fuelled levels of corruption and diversion that earned Somalia top rankings annually in Transparency International’s most corrupt countries.58 Both the entrenched political elite and Somalis who played a transient role in politics devoted most of their time and energy to securing access to and diverting these funds. This had a dramatic impact on both state-​building and peacekeeping initiatives. Security sector reform was undercut by diversion of funds for salaries, leading to Somali soldiers defecting to Shabaab, deserting, moonlighting as private security guards, or manning roadblocks to earn a living. Equipment provided to the security sector was routinely sold on the open market. Some Somali parliamentarians insisted on payment in return for their votes on legislation. The Somali expression “maxaa igu jiraa” or “what’s in it for me?” permeated the political culture. As early as 2012, a UN Monitoring Group report determined that up to 70% of funds intended for reconstruction and development were unaccounted for, and concluded that “the systematic misappropriation, embezzlement and outright theft of public resources have essentially become a system of governance”.59 That same report warned that this “system” risked reinforcing vested interests in perpetuating weak accountability measures and rule of law, so that political elites could continue to pocket state revenues with impunity. Somalis and international actors attempting to advance the goals of security sector reform and state-​building found themselves caught in a political economy that worked to undercut those goals at every turn. The limited capacity of aid donors and AMISOM to work around the worst aspects of the Somali political economy was made painfully clear in the 2011 drought and famine that hit southern Somalia. There were many reasons that humanitarian aid efforts failed, including Al Shabaab’s rejection of international

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aid in its areas of control and Western anti-​terrorism legislation that created legal impediments for aid agencies in Shabaab-​ controlled zones.60 But the flow of humanitarian assistance was impeded by government officials’ malfeasance as well. Aid was slowed or diverted even to areas outside of Shabaab’s control. Port officials demanded kickbacks to release food aid; food aid was diverted by local strongmen and their militias; innumerable militia roadblocks demanded payments from food aid convoys; and quarrelling, autonomous district commissioners competed to set up their own Internally Displaced Person (IDP) camps to attract aid.61 For both Somali and international humanitarian aid organisations, the impediments caused by corruption and diversion were reminiscent of the 1991–​1992 famine. The main difference was that in 2011 AMISOM was in no position to stop it. Revealingly, a better outcome occurred in the 2017 drought, when local and national government officials were much more responsive and helped rather than hindered the flow of aid to drought victims, thereby helping to avert another famine. Al Shabaab was also more accommodating of aid flows. Both the government and Shabaab appeared to have learnt that the political economy of diversion and obstruction had gone too far in 2011, badly damaging the legitimacy of both in the eyes of the Somali public. In 2017, they actively sought to portray themselves as facilitators of relief. This impulse to earn “performance legitimacy” with the Somali public may reflect an evolution in the Somali political economy, one which could create windows of opportunity to erode the maxaa igu jiraa political culture. Importantly, the wider Somali political economy that developed after 2007 was only possible because of AMISOM’s role providing protection of key government offices and critical infrastructure, especially in Mogadishu, and its success in keeping Al Shabaab at least partially at bay. While AMISOM was never in a position to provide public security, and was not mandated to do so, the security that it did provide was essential to the expansion of both the government and the Mogadishu private sector. As early as 2010, the UN Monitoring Group report concluded that “the government owes its survival to the small African Union peace support operation, AMISOM, rather than to its own troops”.62 Had AMISOM not been present to protect the TFG and later the FGS from Al Shabaab advances and attacks, Al Shabaab would almost certainly have overrun the capital, and a very different political economy would have emerged in Somalia. One dimension of the Somali political economy that did not change much from the UNOSOM intervention to the AMISOM era was the privatisation of security and its central role in generating revenue for armed groups. Both prominent Somalis and virtually all staff of international aid agencies and contractors relied on private security companies to move around the city and at their compounds. The cost of private security varied by location but was consistently very high –​in some cases, over a thousand dollars per day for rental of a civilian armoured vehicle accompanied by armed security guards. An Overseas Development Institute study in 2012 concluded soberly that “a growing culture of protection fees and other financial injections from humanitarian organizations

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[have] resulted in humanitarian assistance becoming increasingly embedded in the political economy of violence” in Somalia, a conclusion that would not have been out of place in 1992.63

Conclusion Somalia has been a very challenging environment for international peace operations. Both UNOSOM and AMISOM had to navigate complex political economies that limited their ability to execute their missions successfully. Importantly, both missions became a central pillar of the political economies within which they operated and were at times complicit in illicit economic transactions. The two missions, and the resources they injected into the local political economy, both produced unintended consequences. For UNOSOM, its sudden injection of massive amounts of money into the local economy, combined with its suppression of some aspects of the predatory war economy, helped to produce a “warlords to landlords” transition on the part of some militia commanders and their financial backers. UNOSOM left Somalia without national reconciliation or a functioning state, but with a new political economy featuring an emerging class of private sector investors with an interest in reduced political violence and more predictable security and market arrangements. For its part, AMISOM and the accompanying state-​building and security sector reform projects funded by international donors inadvertently generated local interests in perpetuating rather than achieving state-​building agendas, as those initiatives became lucrative ongoing flows of revenue and contracts. This points to the possibility that the international state-​ building and stabilisation efforts of which AMISOM has been a part run the risk of “moral hazard” –​that is, the risk of inadvertently incentivising local actors to perpetuate the conditions and systems that the interventions are meant to change or overcome. This is hardly unique to the Somali setting, but is a potentially nettlesome feature of many peacekeeping and state-​building interventions, especially those stepping into very poor and poorly governed local political economies.

Notes 1 Fund for Peace, “Fragile States Index 2021,” https://​fra​gile​stat​esin​dex.org/​; Transparency International, “Corruption Perception Index 2021.” https://​www.trans​pare​ncy.org/​en/​ cpi/​2021 2 David Keen,“Incentives and Disincentives for Violence” in Mats Berdal and David Malone (eds.), Greed and Grievance: Economic Agendas in Civil Wars (Lynne Rienner, 2000). 3 Ken Menkhaus, “State Failure and Ungoverned Space,” in Mats Berdal and Achim Wennmann, (eds.), Ending Wars, Consolidating Peace: Economic Perspectives. Adelphi Book Series no. 412–​413 (IISS, 2010), p. 180. 4 Claire Elder, “Logistics Contracts and the Political Economy of State Failure: Evidence from Somalia,” African Affairs, vol. 121, no. 484 (July 2022), pp. 395–​417.

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5 Some evidence suggests that some external actors –​specifically some regional actors –​ have at times since 1991 shared a preference to perpetuate Somalia’s condition of state weakness. This study focuses only on domestic actors with this agenda. 6 Paul D. Williams, Fighting for Peace in Somalia: A History and Analysis of the African Union Mission (AMISOM), 2007–​2017 (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2018), pp. 69–​72. 7 https://​unsom.unm​issi​ons.org/​mand​ate. 8 World Bank, “Somalia Economic Update: Reforming Somalia’s Security Sector: A Pathway to Increased Investment in Development Initiatives” (October 2020). www. worldb​ank.org/​en/​coun​try/​soma​lia/​publ​icat​ion/​soma​lia-​econo​mic-​upd​ate-​reform​ing-​ somal​ias-​secur​ity-​sec​tor-​a-​path​way-​to-​increa​sed-​inv​estm​ent-​in-​deve​lopm​ent-​init​iati​ves. 9 United Nations Somalia. “Aid Flows to Somalia 2021” (June 2021). https://​soma​ lia.un.org/ ​ e n/ ​ 1 60 ​ 0 02- ​ a id- ​ f lows- ​ s oma ​ l ia- ​ 2 021#:~:text= ​ S oma ​ l ia%20r ​ e cei​ ved%20 US%24%202%20bill​ion,deve​lopm​ent%20aid%20(Table%201) 10 Full implementation of the debt relief package was delayed due to political crises in 2020–​21. See www.imf.org/​en/​News/​Artic​les/​2020/​03/​25/​pr20​104-​soma​lia-​soma​ lia-​to-​rece​ive-​debt-​rel​ief-​under-​the-​enhan​ced-​hipc-​ini​tiat​ive;      www.the​east​afri​can. co.ke/​tea/​news/​east-​afr ​ica/​ins​ecur ​ity-​dela​yed-​polls-​dash-​soma​lia-​s-​debt-​rel​ief-​hopes-​ 3722​264 11 Federal Government of Somalia, Ministry of Finance and Planning and International Cooperation, “2013 Budget Policy Framework Paper” (2013) p. 24. www.cabri-​sbo.org/​ en/​docume​nts/​2013-​bud​get-​pol​icy-​framew​ork-​paper p. 23; “Somali Cabinet Approves 46% Rise in 2021 Budget to $671.8 Million,” Garowe News (November 2 2020). www. garow​eonl​ine.com/​en/​news/​soma​lia/​soma​lia-​cabi​net-​appro​ves-​46-​r ise-​in-​2021-​bud​ get-​to-​6718-​mill​ion 12 World Bank, “Somalia Poverty and Vulnerability Study,” c­hapter 6 “Remittances” (Washington DC, 2019). https://​doc​umen​ts1.worldb​ank.org/​cura​ted/​en/​597​7115​9411​ 8138​283/​pdf/​Summ​ary-​of-​Chap​ter-​6-​Remi​ttan​ces.pdf; Laura Hammond, ed., Cash and Compassion:The Somali Diaspora’s Role in Relief, Development and Peacebuilding (UNDP, December 2011). www.so.undp.org/​docs/​Cashan​dcom​pass​ion_​Dec%202​011.pdf 13 Armed Conflict Location and Event Data Project (ACLED), Data Export Tool https://​ acledd​ata.com/​data-​exp​ort-​tool/​. 14 Emma Elfversson, Sarah Lindberg Bromley, and Paul D. Williams, “Urban Peacekeeping Under Siege: Attacks on African Union Peacekeepers in Mogadishu, 2007-​2009,” Third World Thematics, vol. 4, no. 2–​3 (2019), pp. 158–​178. www.tand​fonl​ine.com/​doi/​full/​ 10.1080/​23802​014.2019.1678​399 15 Members of clans provide financial support to their kinsmen in need, which can help them cover whatever expenses they face, but do not directly provide social services to their own. 16 Ken Menkhaus, Non-​State Security Providers and Political Formation in Somalia, Center for Security Governance Paper no 5. (Waterloo CA: Center for Security Governance, April 2016), p. 14. www.secgo​vcen​tre.org/​files/​www/​NSS​Ps_​i​n_​So​mali​a_​Ap​r il2​016.pdf 17 Ken Menkhaus and John Prendergast, “The Political Economy of Post-​Intervention Somalia,” Somalia Task Force Issue Paper #3 (Washington DC April 1995). 18 United Nations, “Aid Flows in Somalia 2021.” https://​soma​lia.un.org/​en/​160​002-​aid-​ flows-​soma​lia-​2021#:~:text=​Soma​lia%20r​ecei​ved%20US%24%202%20bill​ion,deve​ lopm​ent%20aid%20(Table%201). 19 “Somalia Approves $671 Million Budget for 2021,” All-​Africa News (29 October 2020). https://​allafr​ica.com/​stor​ies/​20201​0300​256.html 20 Trevor Findlay, The Use of Force in UN Peace Operations (SIPRI/​Oxford University Press, 2000), p. 145.

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21 Stig Hansen, “Civil War Economies, the Hunt for Profits, and the Incentives for Peace –​ The Case of Somalia,” AE Working Paper no. 1 (University of Bath, 2007), pp. 38–​40. www.regj​erin​gen.no/​globa​lass​ets/​upl​oad/​ud/​vedl​egg/​hum​anit​art-​arb​eid/​somal​iadr​aft. pdf; Menkhaus, Non-​State Security Providers and Political Formation in Somalia, pp. 12–​14. 22 Refugee Policy Group, “Hope Restored? Humanitarian Aid in Somalia, 1990–​ 94” (Washington, DC: Refugee Policy Group, 1994), p. 85. 23 John Drysdale, Whatever Happened to Somalia? (London: Haan, 1994), pp. 46–​47. 24 Ken Menkhaus, “Report on an Emergency Needs Assessment of the Lower Jubba Region (Kismaayo, Jamaame, and Jilib Districts), Somalia” (Nairobi: World Concern, July 1991). 25 United Nations Security Council, Resolution 812 (March 1993). http://​unscr.com/​en/​ reso​luti​ons/​doc/​812 26 Hansen, “Civil War Economies,” pp. 46–​47. Interestingly, some of the international NGOs were quite critical of the UNITAF/​UNOSOM demands that they rely on their protection and not those of private security forces.The NGOs lost a degree of flexibility in their movements, and in some area worried that the UN peacekeeper presence at their compounds made them a target. 27 Terrence Lyons and Ahmed Samatar, Somalia: State Collapse, Multilateral Intervention, and Strategies for Political Reconstruction (Washington DC: Brookings, 1995). 28 Author’s access to UNOSOM internal discussion. For details on logistical materiel sold by departing US military to Brown and Root, see US GAO, Peace Operations:Withdrawal of US Troops from Somalia (Washington DC: GAO, 1994), pp. 4–​7. www.gao.gov/​ass​ets/​ nsiad-​94-​175.pdf 29 Hansen, “Civil War Economies,” p. 41. 30 Hansen, “Civil War Economies,” p. 42. 31 Hansen, “Civil War Economies,” p. 42. 32 Tobias Hagmann, “Stabilisation, Extroversion, and the Political Settlement in Somalia” (Nairobi: Rift Valley Institute, 2016). https://​r if​tval​ley.net/​publ​icat​ion/​stabil​izat​ion-​extra​ vers​ion-​and-​politi​cal-​sett​leme​nts-​soma​lia 33 Marcus Hoehne, “Mimesis and Mimicry in Dynamics of State and Identity Formation in Northern Somalia,” Africa 79, 2 (2009). See also Lant Pritchard, Andrew Woolcock, and Matt Andrews, “Looking Like a State: Techniques of Persistent in State Capability for Implementation,” Journal of Development Studies 49, 1 (2013).The concept is borrowed from biology, where it describes species that develop markings or colours that appear to perform one function but actually perform another, designed to deceive predators or prey. In the political context, it describes the conflation of form for function in institution building. 34 Ken Menkhaus, “Governance without Government in Somalia: Spoilers, State Building, and the Politics of Coping,” International Security 31, 3 (Winter 2006/​07), pp. 74–​106. 35 See Williams, Fighting for Peace in Somalia. 36 Elder, “Logistics contracts,” p. 16. 37 Cited in Williams, Fighting for Peace in Somalia, p. 118. 38 Williams, Fighting for Peace in Somalia, p.116. 39 Access to international financial support was part of the reason Kenya and Ethiopia decided to integrate some of their unilateral forces into AMISOM, in 2012 and 2014, respectively. 40 Elder, “Logistics contracts,” p. 15. 41 The UN support services, and its reliance mainly on international contractors, are explained below. 42 Paul D.Williams,“Paying for AMISOM,” IPI Global Observatory, 11 January 2017. https://​ thegl​obal​obse​rvat​ory.org/​2017/​01/​ami​som-​afri​can-​union-​peace​keep​ing-​financ​ing/​

The Political Economy of Peace Operations in Somalia  303

43 Cited in Williams, Fighting for Peace in Somalia, pp. 95–​96. 44 Ironically, much of the charcoal came from areas of southern Somalia controlled by Al Shabaab, and hence probably helped to indirectly finance the insurgents (see below). 45 Williams, Fighting for Peace in Somalia, p. 16. 46 Ironically, the Ugandan Guard Force for UNSOM received the higher UN rates while their colleagues in AMISOM received the lower AU rate. 47 See Williams, Fighting for Peace in Somalia, p. 62. 48 Williams, Fighting for Peace in Somalia, p. 90. 49 See especially Report of the Monitoring Group on Somalia and Eritrea submitted in accordance with resolution 2060 (2012) (S/​2013/​413, 12 July 2013), pp. 38–​39 and Annex 9, and Report of the Monitoring Group on Somalia and Eritrea pursuant to Security Council Resolution 2111 (2013): Somalia (S/​2014/​726, 13 October 2014). 50 Journalists for Justice, Black and White: Kenya’s Criminal Racket in Somalia (Nairobi, 2015). https://​jfjust​ice.net/​wp-​cont​ent/​uplo​ads/​2020/​01/​Black-​and-​White-​web.pdf 51 Human Rights Watch, The Power These Men Have Over Us: Sexual Exploitation and Abuse by African Union Forces in Somalia (Human Rights Watch, 2014). www.hrw.org/​rep​ort/​ 2014/​09/​08/​power-​these-​men-​have-​over-​us/​sex​ual-​explo​itat​ion-​and-​abuse-​afri​can-​ union-​for​ces 52 See Torstein Grude’s documentary Mogadishu Soldier (2016). www.imdb.com/​title/​ tt6273​226/​ 53 For a list of contractors operating in Halane in 2012, see Williams, Fighting for Peace in Somalia, p. 217. 54 See UNOPS, “Open Data.” https://​data.unops.org/​ 55 Elder, “Logistics contracts,” p. 20. 56 Paul D.Williams, “Strategic Communications for Peace Operations,” Stability, 7:1 (2018), p. 3. DOI http://​doi.org/​10.5334/​sta.606 57 See Michael Keating and Matt Waldman (eds.), War and Peace in Somalia (Hurst, 2019). 58 Transparency International, “Corruption Perception Index.” www.trans​pare​ncy.org/​en/​ cpi/​2021 59 Report of the Monitoring Group on Somalia and Eritrea pursuant to Security Council resolution 2002 (2011) (S/​2012/​544, 13 July 2012), p. 7. 60 For explanations of those causes, see Maxwell and Nisar Majid, Famine in Somalia: Competing Imperatives, Collective Failures, 2011-​ 12 (Oxford, 2016); and Ken Menkhaus, “No Access: Critical Bottlenecks in the 2011 Somali Famine,” Global Food Security 1:1 (2012), pp. 29–​35. 61 Menkhaus, “No Access,” p. 32. 62 Report of the Monitoring Group on Somalia pursuant to Security Council resolution 1853 (2008) (S/​2010/​91, 10 March 2010), p. 6. 63 Laura Hammond and Hannah Vaughan-​Lee, “Humanitarian Space in Somalia: A Scarce Commodity” (London: Overseas Development Institute, HPG Working Paper, 2012), p. 2. https://​cdn.odi.org/​media/​docume​nts/​7646.pdf

Bibliography Drysdale, John, Whatever Happened to Somalia? (London: Haan, 1994). Elder, Claire “Logistics Contracts and the Political Economy of State Failure: Evidence from Somalia,” African Affairs, vol. 121, no. 484 (July 2022), pp. 395–​417.

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Elfversson, Emma, Sarah Lindberg Bromley, and Paul D. Williams, “Urban Peacekeeping under Siege: Attacks on African Union Peacekeepers in Mogadishu, 2007-​2009,” Third World Thematics, vol. 4, no. 2–​3, 2019, pp. 158–​178. Federal Government of Somalia, Ministry of Finance and Planning and International Cooperation, “2013 Budget Policy Framework Paper,” 2013, p. 23. www.cabri-​sbo.org/​ en/​docume​nts/​2013-​bud​get-​pol​icy-​framew​ork-​paper Findlay, Trevor, The Use of Force in UN Peace Operations (Oxford: SIPRI/​Oxford University Press, 2002). Governance Paper no 5. (Waterloo CA: Center for Security Governance, April 2016). www. secgo​vcen​tre.org/​files/​www/​NSS​Ps_​i​n_​So​mali​a_​Ap​r il2​016.pdf Grude, Torstein, Mogadishu Soldier (documentary, 2016). www.imdb.com/​title/​tt6273​226/​ Hagmann,Tobias, Stabilisation, Extroversion, and the Political Settlement in Somalia (Nairobi: Rift Valley Institute, 2016). https://​r if​tval​ley.net/​publ​icat​ion/​stabil​izat​ion-​extra​vers​ion-​and-​ politi​cal-​sett​leme​nts-​soma​lia Hammond, Laura (ed.), Cash and Compassion:The Somali Diaspora’s Role in Relief, Development and Peacebuilding (UNDP, 2011). www.so.undp.org/​docs/​Cashan​dcom​pass​ion_​Dec%202​ 011.pdf Hammond, Laura and Hannah Vaughan-​Lee, “Humanitarian Space in Somalia: A Scarce Commodity” (London: Overseas Development Institute, HPG Working Paper, 2012). https://​cdn.odi.org/​media/​docume​nts/​7646.pdf Hansen, Stig, “Civil War Economies, the Hunt for Profits, and the Incentives for Peace –​The Case of Somalia,” AE Working Paper no. 1 (University of Bath, 2007). www.regj​erin​gen. no/​globa​lass​ets/​upl​oad/​ud/​vedl​egg/​hum​anit​art-​arb​eid/​somal​iadr​aft.pdf Hoehne, Marcus, “Mimesis and Mimicry in Dynamics of State and Identity Formation in Northern Somalia,” Africa, vol. 79, no. 2, 2009, pp. 252–​281. Human Rights Watch, The Power These Men Have over Us: Sexual Exploitation and Abuse by African Union Forces in Somalia (Human Rights Watch, 2014). www.hrw.org/​rep​ort/​ 2014/​09/​08/​power-​these-​men-​have-​over-​us/​sex​ual-​explo​itat​ion-​and-​abuse-​afri​can-​ union-​for​ces Journalists for Justice, Black and White: Kenya’s Criminal Racket in Somalia (Nairobi, 2015). https://​jfjust​ice.net/​wp-​cont​ent/​uplo​ads/​2020/​01/​Black-​and-​White-​web.pdf Keating, Michael and Matt Waldman (eds.), War and Peace in Somalia (London: Hurst & Co. 2019). Keen, David, “Incentives and Disincentives for Violence,” in Mats Berdal and David Malone (eds.), Greed and Grievance: Economic Agendas in Civil Wars (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2000), pp. 19–​42. Lyons, Terrence and Ahmed Samatar, Somalia: State Collapse, Multilateral Intervention, and Strategies for Political Reconstruction (Washington DC: Brookings Institution, 1995). Maxwell, Dan and Nisar Majid, Famine in Somalia: Competing Imperatives, Collective Failures, 2011-​12 (Oxford University Press, 2016). Menkhaus, Ken, “Report on an Emergency Needs Assessment of the Lower Jubba Region (Kismaayo, Jamaame, and Jilib Districts), Somalia” (Nairobi: World Concern, July, 1991). Menkhaus, Ken and John Prendergast, “The Political Economy of Post-​ Intervention Somalia,” Somalia Task Force Issue Paper #3 (Washington DC April, 1995). Menkhaus, Ken, “Governance without Government in Somalia: Spoilers, State Building, and the Politics of Coping,” International Security, vol. 31, no.3, 2006/​07, pp. 74–​106. Menkhaus, Ken, “State Failure and Ungoverned Space,” in Mats Berdal and Achim Wennmann, (eds.), Ending Wars, Consolidating Peace: Economic Perspectives. Adelphi Book Series no. 412-​413 (London: Routledge/​IISS, 2010), pp. 74–​106.

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Menkhaus, Ken, “No Access: Critical Bottlenecks in the 2011 Somali Famine,” Global Food Security, vol. 1, no. 1, 2012, pp. 29–​35. Menkhaus, Ken, Non-​State Security Providers and Political Formation in Somalia, Center for Security, 2016. Pritchard, Lant, Andrew Woolcock, and Matt Andrews, “Looking Like a State: Techniques of Persistent in State Capability for Implementation,” Journal of Development Studies, vol. 49, no. 1, 2013, pp. 1–​18. Refugee Policy Group, Hope Restored? Humanitarian Aid in Somalia, 1990–​94 (Washington, DC: Refugee Policy Group, 1994). United Nations Somalia, “Aid Flows to Somalia 2021,” https://​soma​lia.un.org/​en/​160​002-​ aid-​flows-​soma​lia-​2021#:~:text=​Soma​lia%20r​ecei​ved%20US%24%202%20bill​ion,deve​ lopm​ent%20aid%20(Table%201). US GAO, Peace Operations:Withdrawal of US Troops from Somalia (Washington DC: GAO,1994). www.gao.gov/​ass​ets/​nsiad-​94-​175.pdf Williams, Paul D., Fighting for Peace in Somalia: A History and Analysis of the African Union Mission (AMISOM), 2007-​2017 (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2018). Williams, Paul D., “Paying for AMISOM”, IPI Global Observatory, 11 January 2017. https://​ thegl​obal​obse​rvat​ory.org/​2017/​01/​ami​som-​afri​can-​union-​peace​keep​ing-​financ​ing/​ Williams, Paul D., “Strategic Communications for Peace Operations,” Stability, vol. 7, no. 1, 2018, p. 3, DOI http://​doi.org/​10.5334/​sta.606 World Bank, “Somalia Economic Update: Reforming Somalia’s Security Sector: A Pathway to Increased Investment in Development Initiatives” (October 2020). www.worldb​ank. org/​en/​coun​try/​soma​lia/​publ​icat​ion/​soma​lia-​econo​mic-​upd​ate-​reform​ing-​somal​ias-​ secur​ity-​sec​tor-​a-​path​way-​to-​increa​sed-​inv​estm​ent-​in-​deve​lopm​ent-​init​iati​ves World Bank, Somalia Poverty and Vulnerability Study (Washington DC, 2019). https://​doc​ umen​ts1.worldb​ank.org/​cura​ted/​en/​597​7115​9411​8138​283/​pdf/​Summ​ary-​of-​Chap​ter-​ 6-​Remi​ttan​ces.pdf

PART III

Conclusions

15 ADOPTING A POLITICAL ECONOMY LENS Policy Implications for UN Peace Operations Mats Berdal and Jake Sherman

This chapter is concerned with the policy implications for United Nations (UN) peace operations of the findings and insights provided by both the thematic and the case-​specific contributions to the present volume. It does not purport to provide a comprehensive summary of the book, let alone do justice to the richness of individual contributions or the complexities and nuances exhibited in the analyses of different conflicts and operations. Its concerns instead are broader and more strategic in scope. Focusing on the different approaches, policies and tools that have been employed by UN peace operations to better understand the political economy of conflicts, the chapter explores the challenges involved in translating such understandings into strategies and day-​to-​day operations. Making the case for enhancing the effectiveness of UN peace operations through a more conscious and systematic application of a political economy lens, it offers a set of pragmatic policy recommendations aimed at the UN Security Council, the secretariat that backstops missions, and the missions themselves. At the same time, however, the chapter also urges greater openness and honesty about the constraints and limits on the UN’s ability to influence the political economy of civil wars, drawing particular attention to the danger that individual UN peace operations, in the absence of a coherent political strategy, can over time become “embedded in a political economy that helps to perpetuate the very conditions external actors are hoping to transform”.1 As the contributions to the volume make clear, UN peace operations cannot avoid the political economy of armed conflicts in which they deploy. Nearly every aspect of their mandates –​from political settlement and human rights monitoring to demobilisation, disarmament and reintegration (DDR) and security and justice sector reform to enabling humanitarian assistance and supporting government institutions –​touches the political economy of conflict. Regardless of the extent of analytic capacity at their disposal, or their skill, acumen or willingness to translate insight of how power is distributed and controlled into strategies and tactics DOI: 10.4324/9781003248637-18

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to end violence, the ability of UN missions to effectively support peace processes and protect civilians in conflict-​affected states is significantly influenced by the interplay of local, national and regional political and economic power. In turn, UN interventions –​whether sizable peacekeeping missions or relatively lighter civilian political missions, or the massive humanitarian and development presence that accompanies them –​interact with the political economy of conflict, often in unintended ways. The chapters in this volume also demonstrate that, in response to these dynamics, the UN has made efforts over the past three decades to better understand, engage with, mitigate and in some cases intentionally try to alter the political economy of conflict –​whether through refining the practice of sanctions regimes, investigative reports of panels of experts, initiating anti-​corruption and public sector reform programmes, undertaking DDR, supporting local mediation efforts, or developing operational analytic and intelligence policies and capacities. Yet, the track record of these efforts to significantly tilt the incentives towards the side of peace is mixed. As multiple contributors note, it is not a lack of awareness of the extent of illicit networks or available tools that prevent UN peace operations from effectively addressing political economy dimensions of conflict –​though several authors do point to areas where policies, skills and capacities should be strengthened or augmented to deepen the scope of analysis, better coordinate across the UN system and improve transparency. Rather, there is broad agreement among the authors that peace operations continue to struggle with transforming their analysis of illicit networks and power structures into operational responses capable of countering what Doss calls “the dark power of the political economy”.2 The process of shifting the incentive structures of elites and other stakeholders towards a peace economy is at best a generational shift; the UN and wider international community does not have the leverage –​political, economic, legal –​to change deeply embedded power structures, as Jackson points out in her case on Afghanistan.3 There is no shortage of failed technical projects based on Western good practice and backed by wishful thinking to reform legal frameworks or train civil servants and security services without changing the underlying system of competition and control. Moreover, as Carayannis and Kavanaugh detail in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), major regional and global powers, including members of the Security Council, block action on the evidence to protect their national interests and increase the political costs for the UN. Rather than publicising corrupt practices by companies and their impact on the conflict, UN leadership is often too cautious, unwilling to take the risk of damaging relationships.4 Against these realities and to contribute to the effectiveness of UN peace operations, the chapter presents a set of pragmatic policy recommendations to the UN Security Council, the secretariat and the missions themselves. These recommendations are framed by an understanding that UN peace operations can improve the tools at their disposal –​their expertise, analysis, information sharing and strategies. But perhaps the overriding lesson for the UN is that the value of a

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political economy lens is not to transform well-​established power structures and their basis of support, but rather to provide insight into how its presence and activities influence these structures, where they may offer an opportunity to address the drivers of conflict, where they are unlikely to do so and where they may make matters worse.

Ensure that Political Strategies Are Grounded in the Political Economy of Armed Conflict For nearly two decades, multidimensional peacekeeping missions have been the dominant UN approach to resolving armed conflict. In the Central African Republic (CAR), the DRC, Mali and South Sudan, these missions are struggling. Recent analysis of UN peace operations has consistently emphasised the need for missions to be guided by clear political strategies –​an articulation of the core political objectives and of how to coherently use the various tools at the mission’s disposal (e.g., mediation and dialogue, security sector reform, military and police operations) to achieve those objectives, based on an analysis of the stakeholders and their underlying interests.5 Kenny Gluck persuasively argues that, in part, a preoccupation with mediation has resulted in these missions being less than the sum of their parts. The insistence on mediation-​centric approaches reduces the potential synergies of the varied tools at the mission’s disposal. Rather than tools in a coherent strategy to sustainably reduce violence or foster greater political stability, they are left as technical tasks disconnected from a political vision for change or serving the implementation of weak agreements.6 UN missions have plainly had difficulty adapting political strategies to the central role that economic competition and predation have in most conflicts where the UN is mandated to send peace operations. They need to better reflect how power is distributed at the local, national and regional levels; the interplay between these levels; and how they are linked to drivers of violence. As Gluck observes, strategies to move groups away from armed predation, as well as plans to reduce the violence associated with local economic competition will need to accompany the negotiation process and agreement implementation.7 Analytically, this necessitates not only the traditional focus on competition and cooperation between belligerents, but also analysis of dynamics within belligerent structures, how they engage with different social groups and the specific role that violence plays in achieving their political and economic interests.8 In determining what is realistic, UN missions should, as Felbab-​Brown has argued elsewhere, “focus on the most disruptive and dangerous networks, those that cause most damage”, including “those that are most rapacious and detrimental to society and the development of an equitable state, and those that most concentrate rents from illicit economies to a narrow clique of people”.9 Missions will not be able to mitigate all economic activity that feeds or fuels violence.

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The challenge of grappling with the political economy of armed conflict exists not only at the level of individual peace operations, but also lays in how they are mandated by the Security Council. While political strategies need to take a bottom up approach to determine how to end violence and address the drivers of conflict, Security Council mandates have remained top-​down, relying on similar blueprints across missions. Peacekeeping missions in the Central African Republic, Darfur, DRC and Mali have strikingly similar mandates, tasked to extend state authority and support state capacity. This is true of major special political missions in Afghanistan and Libya as well. UN mission leaderships need to push back on mandates driven by the Security Council and UN Headquarters. One way to do this, suggested by the High Level Independent Panel on Peace Operations (HIPPO), is a two-​stage mandating process in which, following an initial politically oriented mandate, the Secretary-​General would undertake a more nuanced analysis to identify a limited number of achievable and sequenced goals.10

Complement National Political Solutions with Local Mediation The primary aim of UN peace operations is to support lasting political settlements that end large-​scale violence. Over the past seven decades, missions have developed a range of tools to achieve this goal, including mediation and dialogue.Yet, as Druet notes, “the UN has an innate proclivity for formal political processes and has traditionally pursued technocratic approaches that privilege formal power-​ sharing arrangements and institutional development as the objectives and outcomes of peace processes”.11 Recent attempts by the UN to broker national level peace agreements in Libya, Yemen and Syria have failed to gain traction, while agreements in Mali, South Sudan, CAR and elsewhere have faced repeated delays, and renewed outbreaks of violence. While national level political settlements may be necessary to settle the distribution of power in government institutions and the armed forces, UN peace operations need to improve their ability to pursue political settlements at multiple levels, strategically engage in local level conflicts, and develop a keener understanding of the linkages between this violence and national level networks of power and patronage. Traditional mediation-​centric strategies are unlikely to prove capable of reducing violence in cases with weakly structured, incohesive and numerous belligerents, heavily dependent on economic predation for sustaining themselves and mobilizing fighters,12 dynamics that describe most, if not all, of the cases in this volume. In these settings, efforts to find a national level political solution should be one tool among many. Subnational violence poses serious threats to civilians, impedes humanitarian assistance and risks destabilising already fragile political agreements in several contexts described in this volume.13 In response, UN missions like those in South Sudan and CAR have become more involved in local level mediation, at times to prevent intercommunal conflict and local insurgency from undermining confidence in national political processes and deepening social divisions, or to uphold

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their protection mandates by mitigating civilian causalities and human rights violations, and maintain public faith in the UN’s presence. The impact of such engagement varies: by temporarily deescalating tensions, it can save lives, prevent human rights abuse and displacement and facilitate delivery of assistance, but is most often unsustainable without a broader political process. Much of the UN’s engagement in local conflict remains ad hoc or reactive. As Gluck persuasively argues, local level dialogue is more likely to yield results, including at the national level, if interventions are designed and carried out as part of coherent political strategy that also encompasses a range of other tools.14 In fact, local peace deals agreed in response to communities’ exhaustion with conflict and displacement are unlikely to alter the underlying political economy, or to prevent armed groups from coercing local populations. In their study of local mediation by the UN, Boutellis, Mechoulian and Zahar caution against local mediation becoming a “false panacea” to struggling national processes, arguing that missions need to take informed strategic decisions about whether, when, where and with whom to engage.15 To determine whether local political engagement will strengthen rather than undermine national level processes, UN peace operations field offices require the autonomy and capability to plan and implement tailored, context-​specific responses that bring together civil affairs, human rights, rule of law expertise –​often in support of local authorities.16 To effectively assess where, when and how to engage in local conflict, UN peace operations need “a greater capacity for relationship building and understanding of the nature of local political and economic competition and its role in the generation of military alliances and recruitment of fighters”.17 Following the closure of the United Nations –​African Union Hybrid Mission in Darfur (UNAMID) in December 2020, no peacekeeping mission has an explicit mandate to mediate intercommunal violence. Several existing missions –​in South Sudan, Mali, CAR and DRC –​are involved in local mediation, but in an ad hoc manner. Often such engagement is left to staff, without strategic level engagement from mission leadership. In conflict-​affected states marked by patterns of local level violence, the Security Council should consider providing missions with explicit mandates to mediate such violence. According to Delsol, an explicit mandate to address local conflict provides missions with the political backing to expand their geographic focus, allocate logistical support and ensure the necessary support for mediation.18 National level political agreements are frequently imperfect; their omissions and ambiguities can leave unresolved the drivers of conflict, including control of economic resources, and set the stage for continued violence. The UN, with regional partners like the African Union, ECOWAS and Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD) that engage in political dialogue and mediation, rather than being limited to the confines of weak peace agreements, should explore opportunities to secure additional binding commitments between states and their societies to address these shortcomings.19 Boutellis describes how, in Mali, the licit and illicit business actors excluded from formal, national level negotiations would occasionally hold side talks with the parties to address power-​sharing and intercommunal

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rivalries.20 Similarly, Gluck describes how UN and World Bank collaboration, in partnership with Yemeni business leaders, allowed the continued functioning of key social service and economic institutions on both sides of the war’s front lines.21 These examples reinforce Kaye’s argument that UN peace operations need to identify and work with licit and illicit economic actors to influence the parties in support of specific actions in both national level and local level bottom-​up processes. “Ignoring these dynamics or expecting the emergence of post-​conflict ‘peace’ to make them magically disappear is highly detrimental to the prospects for sustainable peace: state-​society-​market relations must be part of the dialogue”.22 For agreements to support post-​conflict peacebuilding, the issue of war economies must be tackled during the peace processes given their intrinsic relationship to the motivations for violence.

Proactively Address the Motives of Violence to Protect Civilians Amid the failure of national level peace agreements to end violence, the Security Council has made protection of civilians a priority for UN peace operations. Multidimensional peacekeeping missions are equipped with a range of tools, including dialogue, civic engagement, military and police deployments, and human rights monitoring.Violent predation of civilians is a key source of self-​sustainment for non-​state armed groups and, at times, government forces. Peace operations have struggled to respond effectively because they often treat illicit activities as a development challenge, while relying on reactive protection strategies that fail to contextualise the violence. By developing an understanding of the motivations of violence, UN missions will be better able to design proactive strategies to change patterns of violence.23 Understanding how predatory groups recruit adherents, finance themselves, and mobilise should enable missions to develop more targeted strategies to protect civilians. One of the key lessons drawn from an assessment of the challenges faced by UNMISS in South Sudan since 2017 has been that a more flexible and nimble response to protection challenges require the mission to improve its analysis of the political economy at the subnational level, including competition between states, ethnic groups, armed youth and official belligerents, as well as the existing dispute resolution mechanism available.24 In the Central African Republic, where economic predation, including extortion, illicit taxation and looting, is one of the main sources of violence, Gluck –​citing a similar approach –​observes that the UN peacekeeping mission, the Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in the Central African Republic (MINUSCA), used a combination of military and police operations, inter-​communal dialogue and programmatic interventions to provide alternatives for combatants involved in predatory economic activity.25 Peacekeeping operations will never have sufficient military capacity to end all instances of violent economic predation, however.26 Facing limited resources, they need to weigh where force will be most effective in undermining armed groups and where it is likely to protect the greatest number of people or prevent the most

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serious forms of violence. MINUSCA, for example, focused on “a limited number of high population density settings, where the abuses affected the most people”27 and undermined the viability of the armed group. The targeted use of force not only deters or disrupts violence, but can also incentivise armed groups to negotiate. Ultimately, however, durable solutions to protection will require resolving the political dynamics that drive violence.

Acknowledge the Limits of Institutional Reform –​But Seize Opportunities Where They Exist Building state capacity, reforming state institutions and extending state authority are among the standard toolkit of UN peace operations, featuring prominently in Security Council mandates. As an organisation of member states, the UN’s preoccupation with strengthening the role of the state is not surprising.Yet in conflict-​ affected countries, state institutions are often part of the problem, often directly involved in the perpetration of violence, predation and exclusion. Too often, efforts by UN peace operations, the UN country team and wider donor community have focused on technical assistance programmes –​legislative reform, training and capacity building, equipping offices and handing out vehicles, uniforms –​that fail to account for the political and economic interests of elites, including distortion and cooption of such reforms to protect and extend these interests. As Ashley Jackson notes in the case of Afghanistan, this refusal to engage with the real politics was perhaps necessary to upholding the mission itself. By separating politics from the technical aspects of statebuilding, UNAMA was able to ignore fundamental questions around the interests of the Afghan state and the UN’s limited power to influence it…. Focusing on policy and technical reform, rather than the politics, allowed UNAMA (and no doubt others) to avoid the realities of their limited influence.28 There are instances where modest reforms of public sector institutions have proven useful, however. As the main instrument of state-​sanctioned coercion, attempts to downsize and reform the security sector have been particularly fraught, often failing to address the security concerns of ordinary citizens.29 Yet in CAR, MINUSCA worked at the local level with redeployed police and military units to build trust with minority communities and develop accountability mechanisms.30 In Libya, consultations by the UN envoy, resident coordinator and World Bank with commercial and banking elites allied with different sides in the conflict enabled resumption of national development projects and financing mechanism for trade.31 Yet attempting political, economic or social change during periods of violent conflict is certain to be difficult, and likely to be risky. “What appears as fluidity and potential for change may in fact”, as Day perceptively notes, “be a moment

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when the system is relying most heavily on its most powerful relationships to stabilize itself.”32 Under these circumstances, international interventions to change the “rules of the game,” to alter balances of power, and set up new institutions, may result in unintended consequences. In response, UN missions require a more systematic understanding of governance systems informed by political economy analysis while also drawing on other disciplines and methodologies, including historical analysis and ethnographic research.

Develop Analytic Capacity to Understand War Economies Since the 1990s, the UN has become more attuned to the importance of understanding the incentives of belligerents and other stakeholders in conflict, developing policy frameworks, designing mechanisms and acquiring expertise. Joint Mission Analysis Centres (JMACs) are now standard in most peacekeeping missions, as are “peacekeeping intelligence” capacities following the experience with the All Sources Information Fusion Unit (ASIFU) in Mali.33 Panels and groups of experts have experts in natural resources, financial flows and the arms trade. In some cases, missions have even deployed special expertise in organised crime. And all missions benefit from the significant insight and understanding of long-​serving staff, particularly national staff, into networks of power and influence. These developments have helped address analytic blind spots and overcome fragmentation. Nonetheless, these capabilities are often not focused on the political economy. Josie Kaye decries the systemic lack of economic expertise in UN peace operations and staff focused on analysis of key economic actors.34 As Carayannis and Kavanaugh note in the case of MONUSCO, the political affairs team could name dozens of armed groups, but almost no one knew the shareholding of Tenke Fungurume Mine or Kolwezi tailings, two of the most important copper and cobalt projects in the world and some of the biggest sources of government income.35 Informed analysis is dependent on UN missions having the requisite local, cultural, linguistic and country expertise. This volume suggests the contribution a few individuals with the right skills can make, like the group of economic and public finance experts assembled to support the two divided branches of the Libyan Central Bank,36 as well as lost opportunities, like the short-​lived deployment of an organised crime analyst in Mali.37 But it is also replete with calls to build better political economy analytic capacity. Increasing the range of expertise available to missions –​and providing them with mobility to delve into subnational dynamics –​ will provide missions with a more granular picture of their areas of operation. As Ashley Jackson notes with respect to UN’s experience in Afghanistan, “staffing issues and movement restrictions might seem minor in comparison to the foundational challenges of UNAMA’s mandate but they are fundamentally related, as another means through which UNAMA insulates itself from contextual realities.”38

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While UN peace operations are able to use consultant contracts to bring in an array of external expertise, including historians, economists, anthropologists and other experts on a short-​term basis, long-​term analytic capacities could support political and civil affairs units, JMACs and risk management units. Missions should develop requests for dedicated staff positions, particularly for economists with a specialisation in war economies.39 There is another dimension to this, which concerns the extent to which information and analysis that rests in one part of the mission is accessible to other parts of the mission. Structurally, there is a division between civil affairs (largely based in field offices away from mission headquarters and focused mainly on local conflict resolution) and political affairs (typically centralised at mission HQ and focused on national political issues). As Adam Day points out in the case of UNMISS, this contributed to a bifurcation within the mission: at a local level, civil affairs analysis focused on inter-​communal issues, such as cattle rustling, land disputes, and longstanding cycles of violence; at the national level, political affairs dealt with issues like the constitutional provisions around decentralisation and consolidation of the peace.40 Yet the instrumentalisation of local conflict by national elites, and the potential impact of subnational violence on national level political and economic decision-​ making, suggests that there is a strong need for more strategic coordination and exchange of information between the different levels.

Strengthen Risk Management to Mitigate the UN’s Role in War Economies Starting with the UN mission in Somalia (UNSOM), several special political missions (SPMs) in high-​risk environments have established dedicated risk management units to pool information on risks and develop “whole of UN” risk assessments across political, development and humanitarian sectors. Situated in the Office of the Deputy Special Representative of the Secretary-​General/​Resident Coordinator/​ Humanitarian Coordinator (DSRSG/​ RC/​ HC), risk management units augment the “standard” UN risk management policies and processes related to the conduct of audits, investigations and evaluation. In conflict-​affected environments, this framework is insufficient to identify, analyse, respond and learn from day-​to-​day operational risks. According to Marc Jacquand, In complex environments, almost every task involved in implementing a mandate carries a political, security, legal, programmatic, fiduciary, or reputational risk for the UN…from procuring goods and services to selecting program implementing partners, from designing a recovery strategy to providing relief in remote areas, and from launching a DDR project to conducting an election.41

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While special political missions in Afghanistan and Yemen have since set up risk management units, integrated peacekeeping missions (those where the UN country team falls under the responsibility of a “triple hatted” DSRSG/​RC/​HC) have not yet adopted the practice, despite facing similar risks of aid diversion, unintended consequences of programming and exacerbating the war economy through procurement of goods and services, including from sanctioned individuals.42 In South Sudan, for example, the UN country team relies ad hoc on a few analysts in different UN agencies to assess the potential political economy impact of hundreds of millions of dollars of humanitarian and development assistance, from food assistance to avoid looming famine to resettlement of internally displaced persons (IDPs).These actions, if “not grounded in a thorough understanding of the political economy of the locale in question can generate pernicious incentives that encourage violence through the militarization of politics and the proliferation of militias and armed groups.”43 The UN should make more widespread use of risk management units to enable more informed decision-​making that mitigates the risks of UN country teams playing into the local war economy, both in integrated peacekeeping missions and in high-​r isk contexts with large volumes of humanitarian and development assistance (including non-​mission environments). In some cases, this may require seeking approval for new resources in peacekeeping and SPM budgets; in other cases, missions may be able to draw on or repurpose existing capacities.

Ensure Sanctions Regimes and Peace Operations Are Mutually Reinforcing The UN’s overall approach to the political economy of intrastate conflict requires a more coherent strategy to align sanctions and peace operations. Most major peace operations operate in parallel with country-​specific sanctions regimes, and the panels or groups of experts mandated to support their enforcement, both of which share a common goal to disincentivise violence. As Druet observes, Panels and Groups of Experts and international commodity tracking regimes have proved highly complementary to peace operations’ efforts to respond to political economy phenomena, and in some cases helped to open political space for mission engagement on these issues that would not otherwise have been possible.44 Yet several contributions in this volume suggest that there is considerable scope to better coordinate and exchange information between Panels of Experts (PoEs) and peace operations and to improve the working methods of PoEs –​if not to refine the practice of sanctions targeting illicit economic activity. UN sanctions regimes include arms embargoes, asset freezes, travel bans and export bans on specific commodities. Sanctions on natural resources can lead to improved business practices that prevent them from financing conflict, or becoming a source of conflict.45 The Security Council’s attention to natural resources

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is in response to lucrative, and occasionally high profile, sources of revenue for belligerents, but these represent a narrow slice of profit-​generating activities in war zones. As Kaye points out, sanctions “erroneously imply that only certain goods can be used to support war/​armed groups [and] ignore the fact that illicit and licit actors and activities cannot be neatly separated into distinct realms”.46 The Security Council, in principle, can criminalise any economic activity that supports armed groups or criminal networks, provided that it establishes listing criteria. As Vorrath notes, in 2018, Security Council designations explicitly targeted the leaders of trafficking networks for the first time, though as she points out, the designations were for human rights violations of migrants outside of Libya.47 Yet if the UN can sanction individuals engaged in profiteering for human rights violations, it is arguably a small step to sanction profiteers for their ties with belligerents, or even for fuelling the war economy. In the DRC, according to Carayannis and Kavanaugh, “the UN peacekeeping mission in its various configurations over the last two decades could have better implemented its mandate had it monitored and reported on economic crimes and corruption just as it has with crimes of violence and human rights abuse”.48 Panels of experts provide much of the information regarding sanctions violations, and in doing so, a picture of the political economy of conflict. This information, in the form of regular, confidential reporting, is the principal basis of decision-​ making by the Security Council’s sanctions committees.Yet, the UN does not have a system to internally manage information developed by sanctions experts, nor a consistent way to share their findings. Moreover, there is no mechanism for information sharing across panels, even when they cover contiguous conflict (e.g. South Sudan, CAR and DRC).49 Despite the recommendation of the 2015 High Level Review of Sanctions, expert groups continue to lack a sophisticated knowledge and case management system. The Department of Political and Peacebuilding Affairs should maintain an accessible, searchable, secure archive on behalf of the sanctions committees to which panel members have access as a way of ensuring institutional memory and ensure that they have access to relevant UN system reporting as background. At a minimum, such an archive should compile all public information in previously released public PoE reports for all regimes. A more robust version would include confidential reporting, including monthly committee reports, confidential annexes and statements of cases, related to the sanctions regime on which they work. Investigating illicit flows to conflict and identifying the hand behind them is inherently risky work. As consultants, panel members are intended to be independent and to resist political pressure –​but they can also be vulnerable, as the murder of two panellists in the DRC and the arrest of one of the Libya panellists demonstrate. The UN has taken some steps to improve operational support (e.g. for travel) to panellists, but as Cater highlights, panellists continue to have concerns about their safety and security and conditions of service –​an issue unsuccessfully taken up by Estonia during its term as an elected Security Council member in 2021.

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Conclusion In an effort to improve understanding of the political economy of conflict, the motivations of belligerents and possible incentives and pressure points to nudge them away from violence, and the ways in which their own interventions may unintentionally contribute to conflict, UN peace operations have many ways in which they can improve coordination, structure, recruitment or reporting. All of these technical fixes are worthwhile and should be pursued. But they are also up against the much larger challenge that the UN and international community, as outsiders, have limited leverage to alter the political economy of war towards peace. As Jackson says, “If there is a key lesson to be learnt, perhaps it is that there are hard limits to UN influence and capacities”.50 Faced with limited ability to influence the key drivers of violence, what should the UN do? The answer in most cases is to be more modest in what their efforts will achieve: [T]‌he most important lesson of a broader understanding of the political economy of conflict is a genuine acknowledgment of the many limitations of a peacemaking and peacekeeping strategy. This newfound humility should be shared by states and international organizations alike… In the present context of retreat and skepticism about foreign ventures and state building, a more modest agenda, in addition to having in and of itself a greater chance of success, is more likely to attract the minimum level of support required to make progress.51 UN peace operations cannot by themselves transform states and their societies. They can, however, help lay the foundations for internally driven societal transformation through the mitigation of violence and the encouragement of constructive and positive political dynamics.These are still formidable tasks that cannot be achieved without an understanding of the political economy of conflict-​affected states and societies.

Notes 1 Menkhaus and Paul Williams, “The Political Economy of Peace Operations in Somalia”, p. 281. 2 Doss, “Engaging with Political Elites and Non-​State Armed Groups”, p. 81. 3 Jackson, “No Peace left to Keep”, pp. 228–229. 4 Carayannis and Kavanagh, “Politics is Wealth, Wealth is Power”, p. 190. 5 According to Day et al., UN “mission strategies should be based on cross-​cutting analysis, including stakeholder mapping, scenario planning, and a strong sense of the political economy of conflict; today’s missions often only partially engage with these analytic tools and approaches. Understanding how power is distributed is important, and often not the principal focus of analysis.” Adam Day, Aditi Gorur,Victoria K. Holt and Charles T. Hunt, “The Political Practice of Peacekeeping: How Strategies for Peace Operations are Developed and Implemented” (New York: United Nations University, 2020), p. 11.

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https://​stim​son.org/​wp-​cont​ent/​uplo​ads/​2020/​09/​0-​Peace​Ops-​2020-​1245-​Ful​lRep​ ort-​Poli​tica​lPra​ctic​eofP​eace​keep​ing.pdf 6 Gluck, “Operationalising the ‘Primacy of Politics’ ”, p. 51. 7 Ibid., p. 56. 8 Ibid., p. 51. 9 Vanda Felbab-​Brown, “The Hellish Road to Good Intentions: How to Break Political-​ Criminal Alliances in Contexts of Transition,” United Nations University Centre for Policy Research Crime-​Conflict Nexus Series: No 7, April 2017. 10 Day, “The Unbuilding of a State”, p. 221; United Nations High Level Independent Panel on Peace Operations, June 2015, para 176. https://​peaceo​pera​tion​srev​iew.org/​wp-​cont​ ent/​uplo​ads/​2015/​08/​HIPPO​_​Rep​ort_​1_​Ju​ne_​2​015.pdf 11 Druet, “Commodities, Commanders and Corruption”, p. 129. 12 Gluck, “Operationalising the ‘Primacy of Politics’ ”, p. 47. 13 As Boutellis et al. describe, actors at the local level use national level conflicts to amplify or reframe their own struggles, and national level actors strike alliances with local actors and instrumentalize local conflicts as part of national struggles. In other contexts… intra-​and intercommunity conflicts can develop in isolation from national political dynamics. Arthur Boutellis, Delphine Mechoulan, and Marie-​ Joëlle Zahar, “Parallel Tracks or Connected Pieces? UN Peace Operations, Local Mediation, and Peace Processes,” International Peace Institute, December 2020, p. 9. 14 Gluck, “Operationalising the ‘Primacy of Politics’ ”, p. 55. 15 Boutellis et al., “Parallel Tracks or Connected Pieces?” 16 For an effort to do this in South Sudan, see Mats Berdal and David Shearer, “Hard Lessons from South Sudan”, Survival, vol. 63, no. 5, 2021, pp. 79–​96. 17 Gluck, “Operationalising the ‘Primacy of Politics’ ”, p. 52. 18 Delsol, Gabriel, “UN Peacekeeping Operations and Pastoralism-​ Related Insecurity: Adopting a Coordinated Approach for the Sahel,” International Peace Institute, July 2020. www.ipi​nst.org/​wp-​cont​ent/​uplo​ads/​2020/​07/​2007​_​UN-​Peace​keep​ing-​Ope​rati​ ons-​and-​Past​oral​ism-​Rela​ted-​Ins​ecur​ity.pdf 19 Gluck, “Operationalising the ‘Primacy of Politics’ ”, pp. 59–61. 20 Boutellis, “MINUSMA and the Political Economy of Mali’s Crisis”, p. 265. 21 Gluck, “Operationalising the ‘Primacy of Politics’ ”, p. 54. 22 Kaye, “What role for business actors in UN peace operations?”, p. 121. 23 Gluck, “Operationalising the ‘Primacy of Politics’ ”, p. 56. 24 Berdal and Shearer, “Hard Lessons from South Sudan”, p. 83. 25 Gluck, “Operationalising the ‘Primacy of Politics’ ”, p. 56. 26 Carayannis and Kavanaugh citing the DCR panel of experts on sanctions observe that “it is not feasible for MONUSCO to provide permanent security at mines and along supply routes, given limited resources and competing priorities, in particular the protection of civilians.” Carayannis and Kavanagh, “Politics is Wealth, Wealth is Power”, p. 185. 27 Gluck, “Operationalizing the ‘Primacy of Politics’:, p. 57. 28 Jackson, “No Peace left to Keep”, p. 220 and 229. 29 Detnzer notes that “despite two decades of implementation experience, as of 2016 there has been no increase in the tiny number of post-​conflict SSR efforts generally considered successful.” Sarah Detzner, “Modern Post-​Conflict Security Sector Reform in Africa: Patterns of Success and Failure”, African Security Review, vol. 26, no. 2, 2017.

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30 Gluck, “Operationalising the ‘Primacy of Politics’ ”, p. 55. 31 Ibid., p. 53. 32 Day, “The Unbuilding of a State”, p. 209. 33 For the somewhat mixed record of ASIFU’s actual contribution to MINUSMA’s operations, notwithstanding the advanced nature and sophistication of the assets deployed, see chapters in this volume by Boutellis and Druet. 34 Kaye, “What role for business actors in UN peace operations?”, p. 113. 35 Carayannis and Kavanagh, “Politics is Wealth, Wealth is Power”, p. 191. 36 Gluck, “Operationalising the ‘Primacy of Politics’ ”, p. 53. 37 Boutellis, “MINUSMA and the Political Economy of Mali’s Crisis”, p. 264. 38 Jackson, “No Peace left to Keep,” p. 232. 39 Pushing for peacekeeping mandates to explicitly instruct missions to adapt a political economy could help ensure that they have the necessary staff resources to conduct political economy analysis and inform mission strategies. Anecdotally, Carayannis and Kavanaugh note that despite MONUSCO having had a mandate to analyse the political economy of the conflict in DRC, the mission outsourced this to the PoE –​a missed opportunity on the part of the mission, but one that suggests the enormous challenges and risks involved in digging into illicit networks. 40 Day, “The Unbuilding of a State”, p. 205. As we noted in the introduction, the division between civil and political affairs and the consequent “siloing of politics” within missions is an obstacle of unity of strategic purpose in several UN missions. 41 Marc Jacquand, “Inside the Engine Room: Enabling the Delivery of UN Mandates in Complex Environments”, International Peace Institute, July 2019. 42 Risk management units serve a different function from JMACs, which are explored in Dirk Druet’s chapter in this volume and focus on the political/​security activities of mission, rather than those of the UN country team. 43 Mats Berdal and David Shearer, “Hard Lessons from South Sudan”, Survival, vol. 63, no. 5, 2021, p. 90. 44 Druit, “Commodities, Commanders and Corruption”, p. 144. 45 High Level Panel on Sanctions, p. 84. 46 Kaye, “What role for business actors in UN peace operations?”, p. 114. 47 Vorrath, “Confronting Illicit Economies”, p. 167. 48 Carayannis and Kavanagh, “Politics is Wealth, Wealth is Power”, p. 176. 49 According to the High Level Review of UN Sanctions, “Outgoing experts are currently required to prepare end-​of-​contract reports and the Secretariat maintains an archive of their material for the use of their successors, but experts stressed the value of a face-​to-​face meeting to place this material in context, as well as ongoing contact with their predecessors to consult on cases and other work of the group. Continuity was also provided by the accumulated institutional and technical knowledge of the longer serving UN support staff.” High Level Review of United Nations Sanctions, Compendium, p. 43. www.onp​csb.ro/​pdf/​HLR_​Comp​endi​um_​2​015.pdf. According to Cater, sanctions experts starting a new mandate have access to all previous public reporting, some confidential reporting related to the sanctions regime on which they work, but not in a user-​friendly format. In some cases, they may have access to investigative leads, targets of interest and other supporting document from previous experts –​but this is ad hoc and depending on personal relationships. They do not have access to confidential files from other sanctions regimes. E-​mail on file with author, July 13, 2022. 50 Jackson, “No Peace left to Keep,” p. 232. 51 Jean-​Marie Guehenno, p. 42.

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Bibliography Berdal, Mats and David Shearer, “Hard Lessons from South Sudan,” Survival, vol. 63, no. 5, 69–​96, 2021. Boutellis, Arthur, Delphine Mechoulan, and Marie-​ Joëlle Zahar, “Parallel Tracks or Connected Pieces? UN Peace Operations, Local Mediation, and Peace Processes,” International Peace Institute, December 2020. Day, Adam, Aditi Gorur, Victoria K. Holt and Charles T. Hunt, The Political Practice of Peacekeeping: How Strategies for Peace Operations are Developed and Implemented (New York: United Nations University, 2020). Delsol, Gabriel,“UN Peacekeeping Operations and Pastoralism-​Related Insecurity:Adopting a Coordinated Approach for the Sahel,” International Peace Institute, July 2020. Detzner, Sarah,“Modern Post-​Conflict Security Sector Reform in Africa: Patterns of Success and Failure,” African Security Review, vol. 26, no.2, 2017: 116–​142. Felbab-​Brown, Vanda, “The Hellish Road to Good Intentions: How to Break Political-​ Criminal Alliances in Contexts of Transition,” United Nations University Centre for Policy Research Crime-​Conflict Nexus Series: No 7, April 2017. High Level Review of United Nations Sanctions: Compendium, 2015. Jacquand, Marc, “Inside the Engine Room: Enabling the Delivery of UN Mandates in Complex Environments,” International Peace Institute, July 2019. United Nations High Level Independent Panel on Peace Operations, June 2015.

INDEX

Note: Endnotes are indicated by the page number followed by “n” and the note number e.g., 105n4 refers to note 4 on page 105. Abidjan Peace Accord (Sierra Leone 1996) 240 Adeniji, Oluyemi (SRSG in Sierra Leone) 238, 242–​5, 248 Afghanistan: and aid/​money as “non-​ lethal weapon” 226; and Commanders’ Emergency Response Program (CERP) 226; and elections in 2009 224–​5; and National Solidarity Programme 36, 230–​1; and NATO 224–​6; and Provincial Reconstruction Teams (PRTs) 223, 226, 229; and sanctions 97; and statebuilding 39; and the surge 224–​5; and War on Terror 232; see also Lakhdar Brahimi; Kai Eide; Karl Eikenberry; Ashraf Ghani African Union Mission to Somalia (AMISOM): and panel of experts 94, 98; political economy of AMISON 292–​8; and wider Somali political economy 298–​300 African Union Transition Mission in Somalia (ATMIS) see AMISOM al-​Assad, Bashar 33–​4; see also Syria Algiers Agreement for Peace and Reconciliation in Mali (2015) 50, 258, 260, 263, 267, 269 All Sources Information Fusion Unit (ASIFU) in Mali 96–​7, 99, 105n14, 136–​8, 264, 316

All Sources Information Fusion Unit and local mediation 266–​8; and transnational crime 269–​70 Al-​Shabaab 279, 281–​2, 284; and AMISOM 292, 294, 295, 297–​9 Al-​Qaeda 262, 295; see also terrorism and organised crime (OC) Annan, Kofi 244–​5 Bargués-​Pedreny, Pol 208 Berdal, Mats 129, 237, 321n16 “blood diamonds” 65, 76, 237, 248–​9 Boutros-​Ghali, Boutros 129 Brahimi, Lakhdar: ‘Brahimi’ report on UN peace operations 130; and ‘light footprint’ in Afghanistan 221–​2 business actors: definition of 110–​11; and clannism in Somalia 284, 285; as mediators 116–​17, 120–​1 Cambodia, 141 Central African Republic (CAR) 44, 51, 55, 79; and panel of experts 93, 100, 134, 141, 153, 314; Political Agreement for Peace and Reconciliation 44, 48, 49 Christia, Fotina 47 Chandler, David 211 civil society: and business 118; dialogue and mediation 57–​9; in Mali 259; in South Sudan 207

Index  325

civil war: impact of money and economic forces on 30–​1; mutation over time 26; nature of armed groups in 46–​8; networked and transnational characteristics of 10–​11; regional dimension of in Sierra Leone and Liberia 248–​50; and sectarianism in Syria 33–​4; wartime livelihoods in 286–​8 complexity theory and analysis see statebuilding counterinsurgency (COIN): in Afghanistan 229–​30; in Somalia 98–​9, 292 counter-​terrorism: in Mali 159; in Somalia 97–​8; and UN sanctions 97, 101 Comprehensive Peace Agreement Sudan (CPA 2005) 201–​2 Côte d’Ivoire 12, 13, 22n55, 68, 70, 74, 77, 91, 93, 96 criminalised conflict economies: definition of 153; and blurring of criminal and political motivations for violence 159; response to by UN peacekeepers 154–​6; see also terrorism and organised crime (OC)

Garang, John: views on rebellion 202; see also Southern People’s Liberation Movement/​Army (SPLM/​A); South Sudan; UN Mission in South Sudan (UNMISS) Ghani, Ashraf 39; see also Afghanistan; statebuilding Governance and Economic Management Assistance Program in Liberia (GEMAP) 14, 37, 73, 80 governance and governance systems: in Afghanistan 228–​30; economic non-​state governance in Mali 259–​60; via ethno-​ military networks in South Sudan 200–​4; informal and non-​state 4–​6; in Somalia 291; under Mobutu in Congo 176–​7; see also political economy of conflict Gourevitch, Peter 2 “greed versus grievance” debate 32–​3, 189, 237–​8 groups of experts see panels of experts; sanctions and sanctions regimes Guinea: entry into Sierra Leone war 243, 247–​8

de Coning, Cedric 211 Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) 138, 142; Angola, role in 178; Etienne Tsksekedi 184; group of experts 134, 180–​1, 185–​6, 191; Joseph Kabila 180–​3, 186–​8, 191; Laurent-​Désiré Kabila 175–​80; Lusaka Ceasefire Agreement (1999) 176; Michael Sharp and Zaida Catalán 135, 191; Mobutu Sese Seko 175–​7; Rwanda and Uganda, role in 134, 176–​8, 181, 185, 186; Zimbabwe role in 178; see also UN Stabilization Mission in the DRC (MONUSCO) de Waal, Alex 130, 203, 206, 208, 229, 230 Dodd-​Frank Wall Street Reform and Consumer Protection Act 141

Haiti 3, 31, 114, 137, 155, 146n37 High-​Level Independent Panel on Peace Operations (UN) 7, 23n78, 45–​6, 75, 80, 124n11, 130, 154, 265, 312; see also peace operations (UN) HIPPO see High-​Level Independent Panel on Peace Operations (UN) Hudson, David 6 human rights 138–​9, 313–​14, 319; see also protection of civilians

ECOWAS Monitoring Group (ECOMOG) 238, 240–​3; see also UN Mission in Sierra Leone (UNAMSIL) Eide, Kai (SRSG in Afghanistan) 229, 223n23; and Peter Galbraith 225 Eikenberry, Karl 231 Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative (EITI) 189 Elder, Claire 280 Executive Outcomes (EO) 239 Felbab-​Brown,Vanda 311

inclusion (in peace processes) 58–​61, 110, 118–​19 information management and analysis technologies (in UN peace operations) 135–​6 intelligence tradecraft and analysis in peace operations see peace operations (UN); information management and analysis technologies (in UN peace operations) International Chamber of Commerce 112 International Monetary Fund (IMF) 111–​13, 182 “isomorphic mimicry”: in Afghanistan 230; definition of 30; in Somalia 291; see also statebuilding Jetley,Vijay 241–​3; see also UN Mission in Sierra Leone (UNAMSIL)

326 Index

Joint Force G5 Sahel (JF-​G5S) 257, 263, 269–​70; see also intelligence tradecraft and analysis in peace operations Joint mission analysis centre (JMAC) 13, 80, 133–​6, 316–​17; in MINUSCA 134; in MINUSMA 137, 264; in MONUSCO 141 Kalyvas, Statis 51 Karzai, Hamid 225, 228, 231 Keating, Michael (SRSG Somalia) 120 Keen, David 19n9, 22n63, 240, 250, 252n6, 280, 300n2 Kiir, Salva 48, 133, 203, 208; see also South Sudan; UN Mission in South Sudan (UNMISS) Kimberley Process (certification scheme) 76–​7, 107, 141, 189; see also natural resources and conflict Ki-​moon, Ban 225 Lederach, John Paul 210 Leftwich, Adrian 6 LeRiche, Matthew 21n47, 201, 207 listing criteria (sanctions) see sanctions and sanction regimes Liberia: civil war 20n21, 67, 71–​3, 87, 237–​9; and sanctions 14, 22n65; see also Charles Taylor, GEMAP Libya 12, 30, 34, 38, 51, 53–​4, 58, 87, 89–​91, 95–​8, 100, 104n10, 154, 156–​7, 167, 170n108, 208, 256, 312, 315, 319; see also UN Support Mission in Libya (UNSMIL) local mediation (UN support of) 51–​3, 73–​4, 312–​13; in Mali 263, 266–​8, 272, 275n55; see also peacebuilding Lomé Peace Agreement (Sierra Leone 1999) 240–​1 Mac Ginty, Roger 210 Makhlouf, Rami 33; see also Syria Mali 256–​73; Anéfes process 266; agropastoral conflicts 261–​2; Operation Barkhane 257, 270, 272; Operation Serval 272; Ouagadougou Agreement 50; sanctions in 268–​9; Wagner Group in 257; see also Algiers Agreement for Peace and Reconciliation; All Sources Information Fusion Unit (ASIFU); Joint Force G5 Sahel; local mediation; UN Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in Mali (MINUSMA) Martin, Ian 12

Mission in the Central African Republic (MINUSCA) see UN Mission in the Central African Republic (MINUSCA) Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in Mali (MINUSMA) see UN Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in Mali (MINUSMA) Mobutu, Sese Seko: and kleptocracy 176–​9; see also DRC National Patriotic Front of Liberia (NPFL) see Charles Taylor National Recovery Strategy (Sierra Leone) 72–​3 natural resources and conflict: capture by elites and organised crime 69; centralisation of resource rent 30; and Libya 69; see also criminalised conflict economies; DRC; “greed and grievance”; sanctions and sanction regimes Operation Barkhane (Mali) 257, 270, 272 Operations Barras (Sierra Leone) 247 Operation Palliser (Sierra Leone) 247 Operation Serval (Mali) 272 Opande, Daniel (UNAMSIL) 243 panel of experts (PoEs) 100–​3, 113, 145n22; and CAR 134–​5, 141; and DRC 180–​1, 191; effectiveness of 95–​8, 133–​5, 319; in Mali, 164; mandates, composition, working methods and reporting 90–​2, 316; Michael Sharp and Zaida Catálan 135, 191; and peace operations 92–​5; security of experts 102, 104n5, 135; in Sierra Leone 243; see also individual countries peacebuilding: artificial distinction between local and national divide 210; “local turn” in 109, 208; see also local mediation; peace operations (UN) peacekeeping (UN): evolution and core principles 6–​8; and internal conflict 7–​8; “robust” and “muscular” peacekeeping and the use of force 8, 183 (in DRC); see also peacebuilding (UN); peace operations (UN) peace operations (UN): and civilian protection 55–​7; and climate-​related security 142–​3; economic impact of 35–​6, 286; evolution of 6–​8, 37; and High-​ Level Independent Panel on UN Peace Operations (HIPPO) 7, 23n78, 45–​6, 75, 80, 124n11, 130, 154, 312; and intelligence 13, 86, 131–​3; and organised crime 154–​6,

Index  327

259–​60, 265; and statebuilding 208–​12; timing of interventions 208–​10; see also joint mission analysis centre (JMAC); panels of experts political economy of conflict: of Afghanistan 3, 220–​1; building analytic capacity for understanding political economy 210–​11; of ‘checkpoint economy’ in South Sudan 19n12; definition and understanding of 2–​3; of Somalia 279–​81; international and regional dimension of 10–​11, 34, 75; as raising morally complex policy dilemmas 17–​18; reductionist view of 32–​3; and UN peace operations 11–​12, 35–​7, 70–​2, 271–​2; varieties of 30–​1 privatisation of security (in Somalia) 285–​6 protection of civilians (POC) 55–​7, 71, 132, 314–​15; see also peace operations; UN Mission in Sierra Leone (UNAMSIL); UN Mission in South Sudan (UNMISS); UN Mission in the Central African Republic (MINUSCA); UN Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in Mali (MINUSMA); UN Stabilization Mission in the DRC (MONUSCO) Provincial Reconstruction Teams (PRTs) see Afghanistan; UN Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (UNAMA) Putin,Vladimir: and oligarchs 32; see also Ukraine Qaddafi, Muammar 256; see also Ian Martin; Libya Raeyemaekers, Timothy 5 Revitalized Agreement on the Resolution of the Conflict in South Sudan (R-​ARCSS) 48, 54–​5, 57; see also South Sudan; UN Mission in South Sudan (UNMISS) Revolutionary United Front (RUF): origins and nature of 239; reversals on battlefield 247; see also Foday Sankoh; Sierra Leone risk management units 317–​18 Rumsfeld, Donald 221 sanctions and sanction regimes: cooperation with peace operations 92–​5, 318; in criminalised war economies of CAR, DRC and Mali 158–​66, 268–​9; effectiveness in Liberia and Sierra Leone 243–​4, 251; impact of in Afghanistan 97; effectiveness of in South Sudan 94, 96; effectiveness of generally 95–​8; impact

of in Somalia 97–​9; impact on political economy of conflict 86–​90, 114, 133–​5; second-​and third-​order effects of 14; and Security Council listing criteria 89–​90, 96–​9, 134, 318–​19 Sankoh, Foday 237, 240–​3, 248, 250; see also RUF; Sierra Leone Security Council see UN Security Council Sesay, Issa 65; see also Revolutionary United Front (RUF) Sierra Leone: civil war 239–​40; National Recovery Strategy 72–​3; non-​state armed groups in 67–​8; power of traditional chiefs 67; see also Revolutionary United Front (RUF); UN Mission in Sierra Leone (UNAMSIL) Sharan, Timor 228–​9 Smith, Rupert 29 Somalia: civil war political economy 286–​8; features of political economy 283–​6; history of intervention since fall of Siyad Barre regime 281–​3; importance of remittances and diaspora 283; international aid and dependence 286; and land disputes 283–​4; and “politics of extroversion” 290; post-​UNOSOM political economy 291–​2; as a segmentary lineage-​based society 284 Southern People’s Liberation Movement/​ Army (SPLM/​SPLA): origins and nature of 200–​2; see also John Garang; Salva Kiir; South Sudan; UN Mission in South Sudan (UNMISS) South Sudan: 7, 9–​10, 14, 16, 18, 36, 48, 52, 69, 130, 199–​212, 318; ethnicity and ethnic factionalism 47, 200–​1, 203; failure of state-​building 38, 206–​8; local dialogue in 52; political economy, civil war, and militarised system of governance 18, 33, 47, 200–​4; see also Revitalized Agreement on the Resolution of the Conflict in South Sudan (R-​ARCSS); UN Mission in South Sudan (UNMISS) state-​building: and complexity theory 208–​10; and liberal state model 205; and resilience 211–​12; and risk of moral hazard 300; and UN peace operations 37–​40; and violence 30–​1; see also political economy of conflict; Max Weber stabilisation 50–​1; in CAR and Mali 167; in eastern Congo 74, 183; and inclusivity of state institutions 53–​5; in Somalia under AMISON 292–​3; see also UN Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization

328 Index

Mission in Mali (MINUSMA); UN Stabilization Mission in the DRC (MONUSCO) Stapleton, Barbara 223 Syria: civil war 34; sectarianism, ethnicity, power, and religion 33–​4 Szeftal, Morris 204 Swing, William (SRSG, MONUC) 182 Taylor, Charles 67, 78, 155, 243, 249 terrorism and organised crime (OC) 154, 159–​60, 164; and listing criteria 89, 97–​9; and MINUSMA 263, 269–​70, 275n47; and Somalia 281, 295, 299; see also criminalised conflict economies Ukraine 16, 34 UN-​African Union Hybrid Mission in Darfur (UNAMID) 313 UN Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (UNAMA) 315, 316; establishment of and mandate 221; see also Afghanistan; Ashraf Ghani; Kai Eide; Karl Eikenberry; Lakhdar Brahimi UN Department of Peacekeeping Operations (DPKO) 17, 22n58, 23n79, 56, 73 UN Department of Peace Operations (DPO) 42, 62n25, 95, 140, 147n60 UN Department of Political Affairs (DPA) 17, 23n79 UN Department of Political and Peacebuilding Affairs (DPPA) 42, 91, 95, 112, 140, 319 UN Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC) 111–​12 United Nations (UN): inbuilt resistance to reform 16, 23n75; intergovernmental, state-​centric and political nature of 14, 15, 129; see also individual UN missions; UN Secretariat; UN Security Council UN Mission in Liberia (UNMIL) 67, 73, 93 UN Mission in Sierra Leone (UNAMSIL): qualified success 238–​9; civil war background to 239–​40; see also Charles Taylor; Foday Sankoh; RUF UN Mission in South Sudan (UNMISS) 51, 133, 314, 317; bifurcation of political and civil affairs 207; mandate and statebuilding ambition 204–​5, 207; and panel of experts 94; and South Sudan’s governance system 204–​8; SSR/​DDR 206; and support for local dialogue 52 UN Mission in the Central African Republic (MINUSCA) 51–​2, 55–​7, 79, 139, 141, 163–​4, 314–​15

UN Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in Mali (MINUSMA) 50, 130, 137, 142, 262–​73; see also All Sources Information Fusion Unit and local mediation; transnational crime UN Operation in the Congo (ONUC) 131–​2 UN Operation in Côte d’Ivoire (UNOCI) 22n55, 68, 70, 74, 77, 93 UN Operation in Somalia (UNOSOM/​ UNOSOM II) 279, 282–​6, 317; political economy of UNOSOM intervention 286–​91; see also Somalia UN Organization Mission in the DRC (MONUC) 68, 179, 181–​2, 184 UN recruitment, staffing and human resource management 8, 78–​80, 231, 320; see also UN Secretariat UN Secretariat 16–​17, 41–​2, 112; and siloing of politics 16–​17; see also individual UN missions UN Security Council: listing criteria 89–​90, 96–​8, 134, 318–​19; and Mali 50; mandating peace operations 141, 313, 314; and panels of experts 100–​1, 103; peace operations’ mandates 3, 210–​11; and politics 15–​16, 41, 100–​1, 142, 310; and reform of peacekeeping 45; and stabilisation 50–​1 UN Stabilization Mission in the DRC (MONUSCO) 93, 130, 135, 138, 141–​2, 163, 183, 185, 188–​90, 316 UN Support Mission in Libya (UNSMIL) see Libya UN Treaty Supervision Organization (UNTSO) 131 Vlassenroot, Koen 19, 25, 147, 192, 193, 196–​8 war economies and network analysis 10–​11, 33, 136–​7; in Afghanistan 107–​8; in DRC 188–​91; in Mali 259–​60, 264; in South Sudan 202–​3; see also criminalised conflict economies Weber, Max 3, 30; see also statebuilding World Bank 111–​12; in DRC 191; and role in Yemen 54, 314, 315 Yemen 34, 52–​4, 59, 89, 107, 115–​17, 314, 318; Office of the Special Envoy 52, 117 Zartman, William 46