Afghanistan

Controversy over interpreters reminder of failures in Afghanistan

September 19, 2015 by Strife Staff

By Alex Calvo:

Corporal Natasha Richards Royal Military Police instructs some of the up and coming Afghanistan police. Continuing police training is having a real result bringing the Afghanistan police up to speed showing modern methods of policing. Captain Damian Coxon aged 24 from Folkestone and Corporal Natasha Richards aged 30 from Eastbourne have helped in the process of building a better police service for Afghanistan. The training is held at Musa Qala Camp where the focus has been at a lowe level training which involved demonstrations and reacting out some potential roles, going through discussing where things have gone wrong or just ways to improve better policing. Date: 21st Feb 2010 Location: Musa Qala, Afghanistan Unit: Royal Military Police Photographer: Staff Sergeant Will Craig Event: Showing local town and business in Musa Qalal Crown Copyright Media Ops Camp Bastion Helmand Afghanistan — Photographer: Staff Sergeant Will Craig, photo from UK Government.

The fate of the almost 3,000 interpreters who worked with the British forces in Afghanistan’s Helmand Province has recently been highlighted in the media, prompting a debate about whether they should be allowed to settle in Great Britain. The interpreters fear reprisals and some have already suffered violence or even death in their native country.

The issue illustrates two key aspects of the long Afghan campaign. First, the confusion concerning its ultimate nature: whether it was a punitive intervention against a regime which had protected those responsible for the 9/11 attacks, or an exercise in counterinsurgency (that is, nation-building under fire). Second, is the lack of a political settlement in Afghanistan laying down the foundations for future peace and stability?

Afghanistan began as a light footprint expeditionary campaign designed to overthrow the Taliban regime for providing a base to Al Qaeda, and ideally capture the latter’s leader, once the ultimatum to hand him over had expired. The former goal was quickly achieved through a combination of local actors (Northern Alliance, previously pushed into a few pockets in Northern Afghanistan by the Taliban), Special Forces, air power, and ELINT (Electronic Intelligence). However, rather than disappear, the Taliban went underground, and to some extent across the border to their Pakistani sanctuaries. Meanwhile, Bin Laden remained in hiding.

In a short period of time a friendly regime had been installed in Kabul. This may well have been the end of the story - mission accomplished - with just the necessary measure of financial, military, and diplomatic support in place for the new government to survive and prevent the return of any international terrorist network.

However, soon more ambitious plans were in place, with Afghanistan designed to become a modern nation state, a democracy, and a developed country, and a large number of Western troops arriving to support the work of official development agencies and NGOs, while waging what would soon become an intense counterinsurgency campaign. None of these goals is negative in and of itself; after all, who is against elections, road-building, or female education?

Yet as the country’s history teaches us, no one has ever managed effective control over the whole of Afghanistan, and attempts to modernise from the centre have always met a violent response from her myriad valleys.

The transition from punitive expedition to nation-building under fire took place without a proper public debate, and enthusiasm to see Afghanistan become the Switzerland of Central Asia gradually gave way to impatience, as progress was slower and the cost in blood and treasure mounted. Finally, emphasis switched to training, mentoring, and equipping the Afghan National Army (ANA) and policy, in a bid to pave the way for a quick withdrawal not followed by an immediate collapse and return of the Taliban to power.

With regard to the fate of Afghan translators, this is important because if the intervention had merely been designed to punish a regime that had granted shelter to international terrorists, preventing their return, then it would have made sense to grant refugee status to those Afghans who would otherwise be risking their lives and those of their relatives by staying behind once British and allied troops had left.

Despite there not necessarily being an international legal obligation, and setting aside moral duties, loyalty to auxiliaries may facilitate recruitment in future operations. On the other hand, if the purpose of the campaign was to provide the foundations for the emergence of a modern, developed, Afghan nation-state, depriving the country of 3000 of her best-prepared citizens would be damaging for the nascent nation. In addition to other skills, either pre-existing or gained though work with the British military, their command of English may be useful as Afghanistan moves forward in areas like foreign trade and tourism.

Already during the nation-building stage of the international intervention, there were discussions that the heavy presence of NGOs and government agencies were attracting the most qualified strata of the workforce with their higher salaries. This was apparently prompting a crowding-out effect in the labour market that saw, for example, a significant number of teachers choose to become drivers or interpreters instead of continuing their teaching.

The controversy over the interpreters is also a reminder that despite years of combat, diplomacy, and development cooperation, Afghanistan remains politically divided, with a violent opposition bent on returning to power by force of arms, with the civilian population caught in the crossfire. The 2001 Bonn Conference, where the blueprint for the modern Afghan state was approved excluded the defeated parties, Versailles-style, and despite later proposals and initiatives designed to achieve national reconciliation, such a goal has not been achieved. In the words of former British Ambassador Sherard Cowper-Coles, “the Bonn settlement that had followed (the US invasion) had been a victors’ peace, from which the vanquished (the Taliban) had been excluded.”

One of the aspects of any such settlement would be a guarantee on the life and property of Afghans who have worked for, or in any way cooperated, with international forces and institution. While a lasting settlement should lead to safety and security for the whole of the population, an explicit commitment by the Taliban not to take reprisals against their fellow Afghans who had worked for international forces would underscore that this was no mere ceasefire but rather true reconciliation, without victors and defeated. Otherwise, as in the current scenario, it is only normal that those who worked with Her Majesty’s forces should fear for their future.

The challenge remains how to promote Afghanistan’s modernization without prompting a violent backlash by her more conservative citizens. While it is unlikely that the Taliban can be defeated militarily, progress in this area by international and Afghan government forces should be enough to ensure that the resulting settlement does not threaten progress in key areas like female education.

if the international intervention in Afghanistan was designed as a mere punitive expedition, then the Afghan interpreters should be allowed to settle in the United Kingdom. On the other hand, if the intervention was intended to be a successful exercise in counterinsurgency, resulting in a political settlement and an end to violence, it would only be logical for the translators to remain in Afghanistan, contributing to the country’s development. In COIN force is only a means to an end, the establishment of a reasonably legitimate and efficient government and a working economy bringing tangible benefits to the population.

Since the purpose of the intervention has changed with time, and a lasting settlement has not been reached, none of these two principles can be applied. Therefore, the best and most honourable solution is to grant the interpreters refugee status, in recognition of their contribution to the British presence in Afghanistan, while taking note that future interventions must be preceded by a proper public debate on their nature, keeping in mind that limited expeditions, punitive or otherwise, are very different from counterinsurgency campaigns - always long, complex, and costly.

Alex Calvo, a guest professor at Nagoya University (Japan), focuses on security and defence policy, international law, and military history, in the Indian-Pacific Ocean Region. His most recent work includes “China’s Air Defense Identification Zone: Concept, Issues at Stake and Regional Impact“, Naval War College Press Working Papers, No 1, US Naval War College, 23 December 2013. You can follow him on Twitter @Alex__Calvo.

Review: 'Sudden Justice: America's Secret Drone Wars' by Chris Woods

June 15, 2015 by Strife Staff

By Harris Kuemmerle:

Chris Woods, Sudden Justice: America’s Secret Drone Wars. London, UK: Hurst Publishers., 2015. Pages: 400. £20.00 (hardback). ISBN: 9781849044028.

The recent growth over the past decade in the scope and complexity of unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) in warfare is remarkable not only for the immense pace by which the technology and procedural practices have matured, but also for the open secrecy under which that process has been shrouded. While their existence is common knowledge, true transparency as to the use of drones remains limited. As a result, getting a firm understanding of the historical evolution and contemporary role of drone warfare is a challenging prospect. But that is exactly what Chris Woods sets out to do in his book, Sudden Justice, which attempts to present an accessible and engaging narrative outlining the history and use of drones in warfare, while also coming to terms with some of the most pertinent moral and ethical questions that the use of drone warfare poses for the 21st century.

The book begins with a description of the genesis of the drone technology. It’s a history that is inexorably linked to a pair of individuals called the “Blue brothers”, and one which poetically echoes the history of the birth of aviation a century earlier. The Blue brothers were Colorado siblings whose ambition and a fateful flight across Latin America set them on a path which would see them – in partnership with the “Moses of modern drones”, pioneering Israeli engineer Abe Karem – essentially start up the entire drone industry in their garage. In the process they saved the fledgling drone industry from the same perceptions of inadequacy by established interests that once haunted the fledgling civilian and military aviation industry in the 1910s and 1920s. It’s undeniably a great story and an excellent, almost light-hearted, place to begin the historical narrative.

However, it does not take long for the history of drones to turn darker with the move into the post-9/11 “War on Terror” and the drones’ transition into the new role of both spy and assassin. The book charts the initial failures of the drone programme at the onset of the Afghan war, to the eventual rise of the targeted killing programmes in Yemen, Afghanistan, and Pakistan during both the Bush and Obama administrations.

It is here that the book comes into its element; presenting a chilling tale of secrecy, bureaucratic infighting, ruthless pragmatism, and just what happens when humans are given the power to kill almost anyone on demand with only a few minutes notice. Indeed, the author seems almost in awe of the power and technical accomplishments of the drone programme; detailing their capabilities and clinical efficiency, yet also in equal measure presenting that path towards the modern state of drone warfare as a cautionary tale.

The chapter on the valuation of human life and the psychological impact on drone operators drive home the human consequences of drone warfare; with the description of the cold ‘boxes’ in which operators pilot their craft especially unsettling. Concrete rooms, lit bright by screen light, in which pilot and operator fight a cripplingly boring covert war against an unknown enemy on behalf of often equally unknown ‘customers’ who they communicate with via dedicated online chat rooms. In that space it becomes easy to see how the human life on the monitor can be reduced to a few words; words such as ‘target’, ‘rifled’, ‘kinetic’, ‘kill’.

To that end, it’s in its description of the behind-the-scenes workings of the programme where Sudden Justice presents its most interesting questions. Is assassination legal or justified? Are civilian casualties ever justified? What role should private military corporations be allowed to play? Are drones even legal? These are the critical questions that underlie many of the issues that Chris Woods tackles, and he generally succeeds in presenting these issues clearly and providing a fair judgement. However, the book does not really set out to give a final answer to any of these questions, which is both a limitation and a quality. Sudden Justice simply presents the issue as fairly and as completely as possible, leaving it up to the reader to decide. It’s a refreshingly honest and factual take on a muddled topic. Though one which may leave readers wanting more finality.

Furthermore, while Creech Air Force Base (from where the majority of the drones are piloted) is discussed in great detail, the author chose not to personally visit the site. The author felt visiting the site would not be necessary or in the interest of the work. However, I would argue that the decision not to go may have missed out on key first-hand insight into elements of the day-to-day processes of running the drone programme, which could have expanded upon our understanding. Although the decision not to go is not in itself a serious limitation, it is definitely a missed opportunity.

A more serious limitation is that while it is clear that Afghanistan, Yemen, and Pakistan during the War on Terror served as the proving grounds for the concept of drone warfare as we know it today, their use has greatly expanded since 2003. By focusing on that area and time almost exclusively, Sudden Justice limits its applicability to a wider contemporary debate. For example, the author does not discuss in any great detail the implications for the further expansion of drone use outside of the US and UK to countries such as Russia, China, and Pakistan. Indeed, the limited scope of the book leaves some critical questions untouched: what are the implications for global security for other countries bringing online drone programmes? Will these countries use the legal framework developed by the US and UK during the War on Terror?

Likewise, the consequences of drone warfare in the context of inter-state global security more generally is not directly dealt with. While these issues are not within the aims of the work, their exclusion leaves the book somewhat unable to move beyond drones in the War on Terror and into the area of drones in contemporary global security. Though its discussions of the history, application, and legal and ethical aspects of drone warfare during the War on Terror remain excellent and widely applicable.

Sudden Justice is an excellent book which tells the story of the historical evolution of drone warfare, with only a few notable limitations. Sudden Justice is a must-read book for anyone interested in drone warfare. It effectively straddles the gap of being both clear and entertaining, while also offering insights for both experts in the field and the average reader.

Harris Kuemmerle is a PhD Researcher in War Studies at KCL. He received a BSc in International Relations from Plymouth University and a MSc from SOAS, University of London in Asian Politics. His professional experience includes working in journalism and US congressional elections. His areas of interest include; water politics, the impacts of water on state and human security, environmental security, health and security, US foreign and domestic politics, European politics, UK politics, UK foreign affairs, South Asia, and the domestic and foreign affairs of India and China. A native of the US, he has been based in the UK since 2008. Harris is a guest editor at Strife.

Punishing the cowboys: Blackwater, justice, and easier wars

April 18, 2015 by Strife Staff

By Charlie de Rivaz:

A Blackwater Little Bird Helicopter flies over the Republican Palace in Baghdad, December 2007. Photo: jamesdale10 (CC 2.0) — A Blackwater helicopter flies over the Republican Palace in Baghdad, Iraq, December 2007. Photo: jamesdale10 (CC 2.0)

On Monday, four former employees of Blackwater, the notorious private US military contractor, were sentenced for the killing of 14 unarmed civilians and the wounding of 17 more in Iraq in 2007.

Paul Slough, Evan Liberty and Dustin Heard each received 30 years in prison after being found guilty of several charges of voluntary and attempted manslaughter. Nicholas Slatten, the team’s sniper, was sentenced to life for first-degree murder for his part in the killings, which took place while the four men were working as part of a security detail for the US State Department.

Slatten began the massacre by firing at the civilian occupants of a car caught up in traffic at the roundabout in Nisour Square, Baghdad. In the ensuing confusion three armoured vehicles opened fire, strafing the cars and pedestrians in and around the square with heavy machine guns and grenade launchers, causing what the lead prosecutor described as ‘a shocking amount of death, injury and destruction’. The defendants’ claim that they believed they were under attack did not convince the jury, who convicted them in October 2014.

After Nisour Square

In the fallout from the massacre in Nisour Square, Blackwater was blocked from providing diplomatic security in Iraq - the so-called ‘cowboys’ were sent home. Indeed, you might have expected a general cooling off in the relationship between the private security companies and state militaries.

But there’s been nothing of the kind. Between 2008 and 2011 there were more military contractors in Iraq and Afghanistan than soldiers. Compare this to the First Gulf War, when there was one contractor to every hundred soldiers. [i] Most of the contractors in Iraq and Afghanistan were working in logistics: building bases, doing the laundry, cooking the food. But a significant chunk – 18% in 2012[ii] – were involved in providing security, exactly what Slough, Liberty, Heard and Slatten were supposed to be doing on that fateful day in Nisour Square.

Even Blackwater is still involved, albeit under a new – less threatening – name: ‘Academi’. As part of the failed counter-narcotics effort in Afghanistan, Academi has received $309 million from the US government. Erik Prince, Blackwater’s founder, escaped any liability for what happened in Nisour Square and is now gallivanting around Africa for Chinese mining, oil and gas companies as part of his new outfit, Frontier Services Group. In the war against ISIS, Prince has called for the US government to ‘let the private sector finish the job’.

Rotten apples?

The use of private military contractors by governments has increased, not decreased, since the Nisour Square massacre. But does it really matter? After all, weren’t Slatten and co. just a few rotten apples, caught up in the heat of the moment?

It is difficult to know how many ‘rotten apples’ are working for private military companies. In 2012, Faiza Patel, then Head of the UN Working Group on the Use of Mercenaries, claimed that the rot was widespread, alleging that private military contractors had been involved in extrajudicial killings and sex trafficking. A 2008 RAND survey found that 20% of diplomatic personnel who had worked with armed contractors in Iraq found them to be ‘unnecessarily threatening, arrogant or belligerent’. This was echoed by a 2010 New York Times article, which claimed that American troops saw contractors as ‘amateurish, overpaid and, often, trigger-happy’.

It has also become clear that private contractors were heavily involved in the torture of Iraqi detainees during the so-called ‘War on Terror’. One of the most striking revelations from the CIA Torture Report, apart from the systematic use of brutal practices like ‘rectal hydration’ and ‘rough takedowns’, was that private contractors conducted 85% of the interrogations of terror suspects. In late 2012, L-3 Services Inc paid $5.8 million in damages to 71 former detainees of Abu Ghraib who allege that they were tortured by employees of the US defence contractor.

Hiding in the shadows

But the truth is that little is known about the behaviour of private military contractors, because they typically operate in the shadows, beyond the scrutiny of the media. Most governments do not publicise the military contractors they hire, and much of what they get up to on the ground is either classified, or obscured by layers of further sub-contractors.

Indeed, it is precisely this secrecy that makes private military companies so attractive to governments: they can hide both the violence and the cost of war. When a contractor dies no one lines the streets of Wootton Bassett, waiting for the flag-draped coffin to pass. Similarly, when a contractor abuses a civilian in a faraway warzone, the government doing the contracting can deny all responsibility. No pesky court-martials are needed; no reputations tarnished.

By employing private contractors, wars can be escalated on the sly, without the need for unpopular troop increases. This is foreign policy by proxy. The UK allegedly used SAS veterans in Libya, who claim they were paid £10,000 per month, to help topple Gaddafi in 2011. The US Congress was not made aware of the fact that Blackwater were assisting the CIA and JSOC in their ‘snatch and grab’ missions in Afghanistan (and even Pakistan) until it was disclosed by the CIA director in 2009.[iii]

At the same time, the costs of private contractors can be kept ‘off the books’ in a way that the costs of regular troops cannot, thereby making an expensive war seem relatively cheap. An estimated 70% of the costs to the US of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were kept off the books, funded by emergency appropriations approved outside of the Pentagon’s annual budget.

Regulating the cowboys

It is difficult to control what goes on in the shadows. Since the fifteenth century and despite Machiavelli’s warnings about the ‘undisciplined and treacherous’ nature of mercenaries, states have failed to effectively regulate the role of private companies in war. Even today, there is no effective system of legal accountability to check the behaviour of private military contractors; they typically operate beyond the jurisdiction of both national and international law.[iv]

For a long time it looked like Slough, Liberty, Heard and Slatten would evade justice too. It took over seven years before they were found guilty of the killings in Nisour Square, so long that the statute of limitations kicked in and prosecutors had to drop manslaughter charges against Slatten. In fact, the case only made it to trial after a personal intervention by Vice-President Joe Biden. Blackwater/Academi itself never got anywhere near the courtroom. If a case as high-profile and horrifying as Nisour Square proved so fragile, it is little wonder that private contractors rarely end up in court.

But even if there were effective regulation, even if we did live in a world where international law meant something and international institutions worked; even then it would still be better to reject the turn towards using private contractors instead of the regular state militaries.

More wars, bigger wars

This is because private contractors make war easier. With the support of private contractors, states can engage in more wars, and on a far grander scale than would otherwise be possible. The invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan would not have gone ahead without the support of private contractors: there just weren’t enough soldiers.

In particular, private contractors make unilateral wars easier. There’s a good reason that unilateral wars are unilateral: no one else supports them. If states could only entertain the possibility of going to war if that war had multilateral support, then both the legitimacy of the war and its prospects of success would be greatly increased.

Private contractors make war easier, and they also try damn hard to make it desirable. We should not kid ourselves into believing that these contractors are sitting quietly, twiddling their thumbs, waiting for the government to pick up the phone and call on their services. On the contrary, they are incentivised to lobby the hawks in government to make war. For the contractors, war equals money. It is no surprise that from 1998 Kevin Prince became a steady contributor to the Republican right – one of his recipients was, of course, George W. Bush.

Disturbingly, the more the government outsources its military needs, the more pervasive the war incentive becomes. Intelligence analysts working for companies like Blackwater are now judging security threats. Strategy experts working for these companies are now being asked their advice about the risk of prosecuting such-and-such a war. Those who stand to make money from war are gaining more and more influence in the corridors of power.

While we should welcome the weighty sentences handed down to the ‘cowboys’ responsible for the massacre in Nisour Square; it is no cause for celebration. There has been precious little change since the massacre. The state is still in thrall to the private contractors, and the contractors still operate in the shadows, beyond the eyes of the media and beyond the reach of the law. This matters. We have so far failed to tame the cowboys, we must not let them make violence an easy option.

Charlie de Rivaz is an MA student on the Conflict, Security and Development programme at King’s College London. For three years he worked in Argentina and Colombia as an English teacher and journalist. His main interests include the political economy of war, international human rights law, conflict resolution, and state-building. Charlie is the Managing Editor of Strife blog.

NOTES

[i] Pattison, James (2014), The Morality of Private War, OUP
[ii] Ibid, p.22
[iii] Ibid, p.149
[iv] Ibid, p.147

Interview - Journalist Sean Carberry on Afghanistan & conflict reporting

March 30, 2015 by Strife Staff

By Mackenzie Weinger:

Journalist Sean Carberry shut down NPR’s Kabul bureau at the end of 2014 after more than two years reporting in Afghanistan. Photo: Courtesy Sean Carberry

In December 2014, reporter Sean Carberry shut the doors of NPR’s Kabul, Afghanistan bureau. The United States public radio network had put the bureau’s closure on the calendar back in 2012, deciding to leave the country due to the planned reduction of US troops. After having a bureau in the city since 2006, NPR has now turned its coverage of Afghanistan over to its Islamabad correspondent, and Carberry has returned to the United States.

Carberry, currently a freelance journalist in Washington DC, spoke with Strife about closing NPR’s Kabul bureau, what’s next for Afghanistan, and his advice for reporting in conflict zones.

***

What did you think about the bureau closing? Did the justification for shutting it make sense to you, or was it a case of a long war and a short attention span?

I think the decision was more financial than anything else. And the feeling was similar to what they did in Iraq — NPR closed the Baghdad bureau at the end of 2011 when US troops left, so they were following that model. I understand financially why there might have been a need or desire to do that. I certainly don’t think editorially it was a decision that a number of people in management would have made.

I did have a conversation with a senior manager last summer offering to extend and stay at least through the first half of 2015 because I felt that it was essential to continue to cover the story and see how things play out at least through the first half of the year after this transition period ends. And I was told that there was agreement that editorially that would be preferable, but, you know, it was a non-starter because financially there was not a dollar to put toward that. It was a done deal at that point.

What do you think we can we expect to see from the US-Afghanistan relationship going forward?

The recent Washington visit by President Ashraf Ghani and CEO Abdullah Abdullah appears to have been very productive. Ghani was extremely gracious and really bent over backwards to show his appreciation of US investment in Afghanistan – both in dollars and lives. It’s a stark change from former President Hamid Karzai, who became increasingly hostile towards the US.

President Obama agreed to delay his planned draw-down of troops, which both US and Afghan military officials have wanted for some time. The US also announced a new pledge of $800 million in incentive funds that Afghanistan will receive if it meets certain benchmarks. But, the question is, how long will this honeymoon last? There is a lot of Afghanistan fatigue in the US, and the public and many in Congress are wondering what the US is getting for its continued investment in Afghanistan.

Ghani’s going to have to reassure people that he is making progress on some of these key things like corruption, in terms of trying to build an economy, in terms of trying to further peace initiatives and end the fighting there. And it’s going to be difficult because he doesn’t have a lot to show on any of those, even some six months into his presidency, because he doesn’t have a full cabinet and so a lot of the ministries have been just running on fumes.

And just as Karzai gradually alienated many of his supporters in Washington, there is a risk Ghani could too. He was on his best behaviour during this recent visit, but he’s notoriously prickly, and he’s already dressed down a number of western officials and diplomats in Kabul. Some have warned that working with Ghani could become more difficult over time.

What’s your take on the prospect of a peace process? What do you think about Pakistan’s role?

I’m sceptical of that. I think there are a lot of reasons why it should be doubted right now that that process is likely to move forward. The Taliban have been making some gains militarily in parts of the country and so, from their standpoint, if they can continue to make gains then that strengthens their bargaining position. Unless some of the Taliban commanders believe that they’re actually likely to lose ground this year, then maybe they would see an incentive to start talking, but I think a number of Taliban figures are going to think they have an incentive to keep fighting and increase their leverage.

And there are still a lot of questions about Pakistan and whether Pakistan is really going to come to the table and use their influence over the Afghan Taliban to start negotiations. There’s been some optimism that Pakistan is turning over a new leaf, but from some people I’ve talked to that are close to this, they don’t really buy that there is any substantive change in Pakistan’s behaviour. For example, there’s a fundamental conflict that is unresolved between Afghanistan and Pakistan — that Afghanistan still does not officially recognise the border between the two countries. This is the Durand Line that was created by the British in the late 1800s. It took a big chunk of Afghanistan and gave it to what was British India at the time. And even though the international community, the UN, all see this as the legal, defined border, it’s a point of nationalist pride in Afghanistan to say ‘we will never recognise the Durand Line’.

As long as the Afghans refuse to recognise this line, there will be this existential angst and fear in Pakistan that has fuelled their desire to have strong influence in Afghanistan through proxies, whether it’s the Taliban or politicians or what-have-you. So unless Afghanistan decides to recognise this border, I think it’s going to be hard for Pakistan to give up this feeling that it has to have a weak neighbour that isn’t going to someday be strong enough to try to claim back this land. This is an underlying dynamic that doesn’t get a lot of attention, but I think it’s a real festering sore… It’s hard to see a peace process going forward without some resolution of this underlying border conflict.

But that’s just one of many reasons why some people are wary of Pakistan’s intentions and willingness to commit to a peace process. On the Afghan side, there are still questions whether different factions have reconciled and settled on a unified approach to a peace process as well, and they can’t move forward if some powerful people have reservations about the terms of a possible peace deal.

What would you say was the most surprising story you covered while in Afghanistan?

I keep coming back to this story about the police puncturing car tires in the city. It’s just a story that found us. I had someone over to our office that we were interviewing and when he went out, around 7 o’clock at night, his car parked in front of our compound had a couple of flat tires. And he actually had a flat tire on his way over to our house, so he thought that the repair was done badly and a coincidence he had another flat tire. Then, as my Afghan producer was leaving shortly after that to head home, he calls me and says, ‘Hey, I have two flat tires as well’. I said, ‘Ok, there’s something weird about this. Call the police office at our district and tell them this and see what they have to say.’

He calls them, and then calls me back and says: ‘I talked to the police commander and he said they did it, that this is a new policy to try to prevent car theft. If people park their car in the street at night, they’re going to puncture the tires so the cars can’t be stolen and used as suicide car bombs.’ When he explained this, I thought, this is unusual. It clearly is a solution to a problem — I’m not sure it’s the best solution to the problem.

What the police were saying was, ‘Look, there is no other way to solve this problem’. And this phrase is something that I heard constantly in Afghanistan, that ‘this is the only way’, or ‘there’s no other way’. It was a fascinating phenomenon that this was how decisions would be made and rationalised in a lot of cases.

That’s the one that’s always stuck with me as this weird, little specific thing, but it was emblematic of so many bigger aspects.

How would you suggest reporters entering war zones or areas impacted by conflict approach their jobs?

I spent time in Libya in 2011 and spent time in Iraq and other conflict zones, and I think one thing I would say is every conflict is different. Even though someone’s a war reporter, each situation has its own dynamics and things you do need to study and learn and pay attention to before you get on the ground. There are some places where it’s safe to associate with certain rebel groups and things like that, and they’ll take care of you, but in all these cases — especially when you’re doing any kind of embedding — you are taking a side in the story.

When you’re embedded with US troops, you are part of that. You are a target whether you want to be or not. You can try to argue to the Taliban that you’re a journalist, but they’re not going to see it that way. You’re part of that establishment. And the same thing in Libya. If you’re there, embedded with the rebels back in 2011, you’re taking a side. And there was, I think, a clear western narrative that the rebels were on the right side and the Gaddafi regime was on the wrong side.

That’s just one of the big ethical questions for all of us in this industry: Are we always neutral? There are times where there’s a decision that the Taliban is the enemy and so if you’re reporting there are you going to be biased against the Taliban? Conceptually, I would have loved to have embedded with the Taliban to cover their side of things. My greatest reservation was that I didn’t want to be with a group of Taliban when a drone strike happened and just felt the risk factor of trying to get that other side was pretty high.

You end up embedding with forces that you can logistically do it with, so you get that part of the story, but you don’t necessarily see the other parts. And sometimes, news organisations, countries, etc., decide: ‘Well, look, this group is bad, so it’s okay to embed with the good guys and do reporting that’s focused on how they’re trying to kill the bad guys.’ But, every once in a while, I see conversations about that and discussions asking: what are the ethics and journalistic responsibilities to try to cover these things in a more neutral fashion? Or should people buy into a narrative that says, ‘This group is the enemy and therefore the reporting is going to reflect that’?

There are different things that dictate how that’s going to come out, but, as I say, it’s easy to embed with the US army, it’s not so easy to embed with ISIS, Taliban, a militia in Libya these days… There are some people that are going out and doing that, trying to do that, and, journalistically it’s worth doing. But I almost feel like it’s people who are just trying to push the edge and I’m not always sure about the quality of the reporting that comes out of some of those efforts. I think often a lot of the reporting tends to be about the journalist rather than the people that you’re trying to report on.

I get the draw to want to do that kind of thing, but I am just very wary of stories that start with the word ‘I’ or ‘we’. It’s not about us. I think that’s the challenge, to realise that we’re witnesses, we’re not participants.

Mackenzie Weinger is an MA student in War Studies at King’s College London focusing on the media and conflict. Twitter: @mweinger

Interview - Dylan Hendrickson on security sector reform

February 27, 2015 by Strife Staff

By Isobel Petersen:

Dylan Hendrickson speaking at a Conference in Kenya, June 2014. Photo: APN/Dagan Rossini (CC 2.0)

Dylan Hendrickson is a Senior Fellow at King’s College Department of War Studies. He first joined King’s College in 1999 as Senior Research Fellow of the Conflict, Security & Development Group (CSDG) specialising in the study and practice of Security Sector Reform (SSR). He is currently a member of CSDG’s sister group, the Conflict, Security & Development Research Group (CSDRG) and acts as Senior Editor of the CSD Journal.

Security Sector Reform is a holistic approach to the transformation of security processes and organisations in conflict-affected countries. Dylan is a leading figure in developing this policy agenda, initially under the UK Department for International Development (DFID) but since for the UN, EU and donor-recipient bilateral partnerships on SSR programmes. His work has taken him across Africa and Asia, and he is currently doing major work monitoring the evolving situation in Burma.

Peace-keeping in post-conflict countries and regions is now a standard aspect of international relations and the globalised world. SSR endeavours to break down the barriers between security forces and human development in order to create long-lasting human security in fragile states. Dylan’s expertise in this field are unrivalled and here he provides insight and explanation that is applicable to the multitude of conflicts and peace-keeping operations going on today.

***

Your career path is a diverse and varied one, working from Cambodia, to the Congo to right here in London. It seems that you bridge the worlds of academia and policy-making smoothly and successfully. Looking back, has this been a challenge to bring the two together in practical terms?

It’s always a challenge. To be honest, I don’t really consider myself an academic. I edit an academic journal (Conflict, Security & Development), publish occasionally and I do a little bit of teaching. But what I really focus on is policy research and advice which is intended to inform the development assistance activities of the British government, the European Union and other donor actors. So in that sense, most of what I do is practically-orientated as opposed to academic.

Have you seen, with your own work, the two worlds as mutually dependent for issues such as foreign policy? Is the academic world more influential behind the scenes than we would see in politician’s speeches or press releases?

Yes I think it is, and I think that’s part of the reason why I’m still at King’s. The Conflict, Security and Development Group (CSDG), of which I was a member from 1999-2014, was set up with a grant from the British government, precisely because they wanted a policy unit that was based in an academic institution. The whole point was to bridge academic thinking and real world policy-making and operational activity. The UK government wanted to benefit from the thinking that was taking place amongst academics. So yes, establishing the bridge was very important, and certainly the work that CSDG did at the time, along with similar units in other UK universities, has had a huge impact in the way that the UK government delivers development and security assistance in conflict-affected regions.

Security sector reform (SSR) is an example of this and is at the heart of your own research. Could you explain a little about the concept of SSR and its place over the past 15 years or so in British foreign policy?

Until the late 1990s development actors were not very involved in delivering assistance to security institutions. Instead, this was largely seen as as the responsibility of defence ministries and other security actors. This was partly a legacy of the Cold War where security assistance was very militaristic in orientation. Following the Cold War and the outbreak of conflicts in many different countries in the so-called developing world, there was a recognition that we needed to rethink the way that we provide security assistance. We needed a much more integrated and holistic approach to rebuilding the security sectors in countries that had been affected by conflict. So the basic idea of SSR is the need for an integrated international approach that brings together security and development thinking and policy.

Is there a particular case study that you have worked on that illustrates this need for a new way of thinking and that has seen success?

A good example is Uganda, though I would not qualify it as a pure success. I worked in Uganda as a King’s advisor between 2002 and 2004 on a UK government-supported defence review process. The purpose of this defence review was to get the Ugandan MoD to analyse their security problems in a more holistic way, to recognise that the country faced a broad range of both military and non-military threats. As a result they needed to develop a more integrated government response to these security challenges which involved other security instruments besides the military. This was an international assistance programme that brought together the UK Department for International Development (DFID), the Ministry of Defence and the Foreign Office. I was brought on as a governance advisor, with a developmental background, rather than as a military adviser.

During the 1990s international conflict manifested as complex, lengthy intra-state wars which resulted in varying degrees of military, political and aid intervention. To what extent do you think that intervention has become a guarantee in international relations?

I think it depends very much on the country and region. Quite clearly the international community takes more interest in certain countries than in others. That was plainly the case of Africa in the 1990s, which was afflicted by a whole range of conflicts that were largely ignored by outside actors. As a consequence, the engagement in Sierra Leone by the UK government in the late 1990s was in part spurred by a frustration on the part of many people that the UK and other Western governments had invested so heavily in addressing the crisis in Kosovo, which is a tiny territory, but had largely ignored what was happening in West Africa. The UK government felt that they needed to do more in Sierra Leone, with which it had strong historical ties. This is an illustration of how strategic interests shape the engagement of Western countries in the developing world.

Do you think that’s a lesson to be learnt? Should there be a new way of approaching intervention? Do you think that if it’s going to keep happening, is there a way that it could be conducted more successfully?

Certainly lessons have been learnt. I think a key lesson that was learnt in the case of Sierra Leone is about the importance of addressing SSR early on. Clearly many of the underlying issues were ignored in earlier international interventions and there was no integrated, comprehensive approach to dealing with the country’s security apparatus. That’s why there were cycles of violence in Sierra Leone as well as neighbouring Liberia. This spurred DFID to think much more holistically about how to rebuild the security apparatus because for too long the UK and other donors had focused on simply demobilising soldiers.

You’ve advocated that military involvement can’t be treated in isolation from socio-political events. I was just wondering if you had any particular experience of this happening and causing problems, you’ve already mentioned Sierra Leone.

We see countries like Afghanistan and Iraq which admittedly are to some extent anomalies because they were serious conflicts that were directly impacted by American and European strategic interests. We didn’t really see SSR being promoted there; the focus was much shorter-term in nature - trying to win the war - which involved security assistance activities that were not very integrated in nature and certainly not long-term enough to make a substantive contribution to creating the new security institutions Afganistan and Iraq require. The activities involved working, for instance, with militia groups that were often part of the security problem for local populations. From an SSR point of view there were many contradictions in the way that the international community engaged in these countries, which of course in part reflected US and European domestic political factors.

Have you seen a real growth in post-conflict ideas such as civil society funding, transitional justice and civic education appearing separately to the grand concepts of security assistance?

Yes, those are certainly growth areas. In recent years there has been greater interest in the role of civil society, for instance, in security reform processes. But in many countries this has been an externally-driven agenda. That’s not to say that there is no foundation in developing societies for civil society to play a useful role, but I think one has to be realistic about how quickly localised non-governmental organisations or groups can have an impact on security reform processes in Africa and Asia, which are usually government-driven.

What role do you think that aid can play?

I don’t think that the solution is necessarily more aid; I think it’s about smarter aid. There’s always the assumption that with more aid we can change more things, but delivering aid effectively is not easy to do and sometimes countries need to resolve problems on their own. In my view we need to focus more on creating the space for countries to find their own solutions rather than always seeking to provide them with a solution. Just by doubling aid does not mean that we find a solution twice as quick. On the contrary, aid is often part of a problem. We often propose short-term solutions to countries which are not appropriate instead of letting them figure out what works best themselves. Conflict-affected countries need to chart a path to resolving their own problems.

The term ‘militarised development’ is floated around as a negative connotation of security assistance and development aid becoming too closely integrated. Have you experienced this? How do you propose tackling this problem?

Yes, I think that it’s a difficult balance to strike. Security is important in order for development and reconstruction to occur. The emphasis of the international community has often been on restoring stability predominantly through military means. This often leads to the strengthening of military actors to the exclusion of other security actors, including the civilian policy sectors. This can make it difficult to develop a more balanced, long-term approach to reforming the security sector. So yes, these are matters of concern.

Demobilisation, disarmament and reintegration (DDR) is a concept frequently associated with SSR. Has SSR evolved beyond DDR or are they still mutually reinforcing in post-conflict situations?

DDR should ideally be seen as an element of a wider SSR process. The problem is that DDR has often been approached as a means of reducing the size of armies and other armed groups without thinking about what we are going to provide as replacement. In such contexts, SSR looks at how we can create new security institutions that are better geared towards peace-time security needs. This may mean, for instance, strengthening the police and a whole raft of other civil security mechanisms in order to provide security that benefits the population and prevent a relapse of violence.

Finally, SSR has a mission to try and prevent the kind of recurring conflicts that we saw in the late-1990s and early-2000s. Are localised movements and contributions to the post-conflict environment a positive route to take in order to succeed in this mission?

Any time you have a conflict affecting society there are many different actors and interests involved. To end a conflict, all these groups - both at local and national levels - have to reach some kind of agreement. It has to be in their interest to cooperate and collaborate. But if they’re doing it primarily because they’re under huge pressure from the international community to sign a peace agreement,then ultimately the agreement will break down. Lasting political settlements cannot be imposed from the outside and so the question for me is: how do we create space for these groups to reach agreement amongst themselves? I think that’s one of the key challenges for external actors working in a post-conflict context, to create the space for local solutions to emerge without seeking to fill that space. It’s a difficult balance to strike.

Isobel Petersen studied International Relations at the University of Exeter and is currently reading for an MA in Conflict, Security and Development at King’s College London. Her particular interest is post-conflict resolution with a specific focus on the Arab-Israeli crisis. Other distractions from her course are current affairs, aspirations of travel and writing. Isobel is a Guest Editor for Strife Blog.

Afghanistan

Footer

Contact

Recent Posts

Tags