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Different colours, same hats? UN vs. non-UN peace operations

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The AU/UN Joint benchmarking team led by the Head of the African Union Peace Support Operations Division head Mr. Sivuyile Bam Bam, poses for a poto with senior AMISOM officers in Baidoa on April 18, 2015. AMISOM Photo / Abdikarim Mohamed

From the period of June 1948 to December 2000, non-United Nations (UN) actors implemented 53 peacekeeping operations, a figure identical to that of the number of operations deployed by the UN during the same period. Since the turn of the century, moreover, the number of peace operations deployed by regional organisations and coalitions of states has surpassed that of those initiated by the UN. This historic, and burgeoning, proliferation of non-UN peace operations has solicited an enduring and seemingly strategically important research agenda seeking to determine whether UN or regional peace operations are better-equipped to intervene in civil wars. This article contends that the prevailing conceptual dichotomy between UN and non-UN peace operations is in large part an illusory one. Through an analysis focussed primarily on regional/UN operations on the African continent, the article posits first that an increasing level of UN support for regional operations blurs distinct analytical lines between the two. Second, regional and UN peace operations often operate according to a de facto division of labour, meaning some comparative statements pit UN/regional operations against one another according to false standards. Third, the increasing regionalisation of UN peace operations renders the UN/non-UN dichotomy a weak one.

The UN/non-UN Playoff

While large-n quantitative studies charting the track record of UN vs. regional peace operations can identify valuable broad-scale patterns, these studies reap often inconsistent results. This is in part due to the fact that such investigations are ultimately contingent upon how authors define and code peacekeeping operational success, amongst other variables. For instance, one quantitative analysis argues that, controlling for ‘mission difficulty’, UN and non-UN operations have a similar ‘success’ rate, yet a similar study finds UN operations to be more successful than non-UN operations whilst controlling for the same variable. Furthermore, a 2020 study concluding that only UN operations curb violence against civilians committed by non-state actors is contrasted by recent research finding that non-UN peace operations limit rebel-caused violence.

Speculative theoretical stances attributing innate premiums to either regional or UN peace operations are similarly contradictory. Primordialist accounts recite the UN’s alleged intrinsic global moral authority over peacekeeping, premised upon its unique mandate for the maintenance of international peace and security, claims to the UN’s transcendent impartiality, and the belief that, ultimately, ‘peacekeeping is UN business’. In contrast, proponents of regional solutions to regional problems tout the inherent pre-eminence of non-UN intervention based on the idea that the people and governments of one region have a natural affinity with others in that region and an intrinsic distrust of external intervention. Ultimately, advantages in political will, legitimacy, and rationalist-material factors are ascribed equally to either regional actors or the UN, depending on who is doing the ascribing. One common theme throughout these conflicting inferences, however, is that they subscribe to a binary UN vs. non-UN taxonomy of peace operations. In practice, this taxonomy is much more convoluted.

Past the Regional/UN Dichotomy

Whilst the UN has sought its own resource-based support from some regional organisations - the European Union, for example - it provides an increasing degree of quasi-institutionalised support to regional peace operations on the African continent. For instance, the United Nations Support Office for the African Union Mission in Somalia (UNSOA) uses assessed contributions for peacekeeping to directly support a non-UN peace operation: the African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM). Mounting debates over the creation of a similar support office to finance the G5 Sahel Joint Force coalition using assessed peacekeeping contributions point to a more widespread, growing interconnection between UN and non-UN operations. Indeed, some forewarn of a new type of UN peace operation, led by the Department of Operational Support, as a result of this trend. Thus, while the case of the hybrid African Union (AU)-UN operation in Darfur epitomises explicit UN-regional organisation cooperation, relationships between the two operate on a much broader scale. Unprecedented support structures emerging from the UN dictate that more regional peacekeeping also effectively means more UN peacekeeping; the two are by no means divorced from one another.

Furthermore, there often exists to some extent a temporal division of labour between UN and regional peace operations. The AU, for example, has often demonstrated a clear preference to deploy interim operations that act deliberate precursors to UN intervention. AU operations in Mali (2013) and the Central African Republic (2014) were recast as UN missions within one year of their deployment, and the AU explicitly demanded the deployment of a UN follow-up mission to the African Union Mission to Somalia (AMISOM) within six months of AMISOM’s implementation in 2007. That this did not come to fruition does not alter the reality that the AU at least conceives of its peace operations as short-term measures. As such, assessing regional operations directly against UN operations fails to account for key differences in mandated objectives and the comparative advantages held by each in line with this temporal division of labour.

What is more, UN operations themselves have frequently emerged as a preferred form of regional peacekeeping, particularly in sub-Saharan Africa. In 2009, former UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon proclaimed that African troops in UN operations were ‘helping to find African solutions to African challenges’, appealing to the popular mantra coined to underscore the benefits of regional intervention. This sentiment echoes an enduring tendency for neighbouring states to supply the bulk of troops for UN peace operations. For instance, in August of 1999, Nigeria insisted upon a phased withdrawal of troops from the regional Economic Community of West African States’ (ECOWAS) peace operation in Sierra Leone, offering instead to subsume these troops into a new UN operation (UNAMSIL). The same regional troops were effectively rehatted under the auspices of the UN. In a similar vein, ECOWAS countries plus Chad provide nearly two thirds of the UN operation in Mali’s military personnel, reflecting a tendency for regional states to compose a large bulk of UN troops.

This regionalisation is also reflected in the data. Throughout the 2000s, sub-Saharan African contributions to UN peacekeeping increased significantly. Notably, though, the majority of this increase in contributions was disproportionately channelled towards UN operations within the continent; from 2001-2009, sub-Saharan Africa’s commitment remained relatively stable to an ever-increasing number of military personnel deployed outside the region, with the figure remaining between 680 and 1,120 troops. In contrast, sub-Saharan African contributions to UN peacekeeping within the African continent rose from 8,441 troops in 2001 to 20,677 in 2009, a 145% increase. As such, while sub-Saharan African participation in UN (global) peacekeeping ascended rapidly in the early 21st century, it in fact became more localised and regional.

Conclusion

While failing to acknowledge distinctions between UN and non-UN peace operations is clearly unproductive, increasingly blurred lines between the two divulge a fundamental tension inherent in the conceptual UN/regional peacekeeping binary. There is a spurious homogenisation inherent in arranging a vast and diverse scope of peace operations into a taxonomy of UN vs. non-UN-sanctioned interventions, meaning ‘non-UN’ and, to a lesser extent, ‘UN’ as categories of peace operations require considerable further disaggregation in order to be able to draw meaningful comparisons. Paul Diehl’s 1993 observation that the success of regional peacekeeping is contingent upon many of the same factors as UN peacekeeping has withstood the test of time; regional peacekeeping is not the antithesis of UN peacekeeping and vice versa.

Still asking to vote

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by Sonia Martínez Girón

Photo by Dominik Mecko on Unsplash

There seems to be some sort of 404 error in cartography. Internet maps plainly show ‘no data’ in Western Sahara. How exactly did this global anomaly to the twenty-first-century nation-state construction occur? Most importantly, can it change? Examining diverse perspectives can help venture into what could ease Western Sahara’s socio-political situation.

Western Sahara covers a 266,000-sq-km area within the Sahara Desert on the Atlantic coast of Northwest Africa. In this territory, the sovereignty of the Sahrawi Arab Democratic Republic (SADR) has not been internationally recognised. This is an intricate conflict where numerous parties and identities are involved. Morocco has just initiated military operations in the area, raising tensions within the ‘stable instability’ that characterises the territory and disrupting the brittle ceasefire of the last three decades. The Polisario Front, the pro-independence unit supported by Algeria, is based in Tindouf since 1975. The position of the Polisario is that the irresolution of the Security Council has given it no alternative than to “escalate its fight”, as the United Nations Mission for the Referendum in Western Sahara (MINURSO) has been ineffective in preventing confrontations. Despite this state of affairs, the UN has accorded to extend the United Nations mission until 31 October 2021. Historical context can help appreciate the big picture.

To begin, the ‘Spanish Sahara’ was what the Territory of Western Sahara was called between 1884 and 1976, while it was occupied by Spain. It was within the context of the Berlin Conference of 1885 where Spain was permitted to occupy the region over which the country could make historical claims. In 1975, Spain withdrew from the colony. Spain was undergoing a period of instability, in which profound divisions and internal conflict marked by the end of Francisco Franco’s dictatorship. The United Nations (UN) mission had intervened in the territory in response to the Morocco-Mauritania campaign to prevent the self-determination vote that the Spanish government had professed in 1974.

In November of 1975, Hassan II of Morocco took advantage of the circumstances to organise the Green March, a protest aiming to annex the Spanish Sahara to Morocco where troops of volunteers crossed to the Spanish Sahara. Arias Navarro, the Spanish president at the time, ordered the colony to be withdrawn and abandoned. That same year, just days before Franco died, Morocco, Mauritania and Spain signed the Madrid Pact to formally end the Spanish occupancy of the Western Sahara territory, which stated that the decolonisation of the region and the opinions of the Saharan population would be respected. While the treaty came into force, its international recognition was not expressed. After the Spanish withdrew from the territory in the 1970s, Western Sahara was annexed by Morocco and Mauritania in 1976. In 1979, Mauritania renounced ‘its share’ of this land and Morocco constructed a 2,700-kilometre wall with landmines alongside that has retained the Polisario. Since then, Western Sahara has been a territory administered de facto by Morocco.

In September 1991 and after 16 years of war, a truce was signed by the parties of the conflict. Still, the intended plebiscite of auto-determination for Western Sahara has been recurrently suspended, as there seems to be no consensus between Rabat and the Polisario Front – who the UN considers to be the legitimate representative of the Sahrawi people – over the conformation of the electorate and the status of the zone. A political settlement in Western Sahara has been even more difficult after Morocco intervened last month. According to Morocco, the country had merely erected a “security cordon”.

The Polisario Front considered the truce with Morocco to be over after Morocco’s attacks. Bachir Sayed, the Polisario Front leader, stated that the 13th of November was a turning point in the Saharawi national struggle and stressed how Sahrawi people support the Polisario Front. On that day, Moroccan soldiers had shot at civilians who had been protesting against what they consider to be Morocco’s exploitation of reserves. Sayed suggested that the war of national liberation was caused by Morocco’s violation of the ceasefire and the UN’s indifference. Since last month, the UN has multiplied its efforts to prevent further escalation in the Buffer Strip in the Guerguerat area. Morocco’s position on the sovereignty of the Guerguerat area is that it is a ‘no man’s land’; while the Front considers it its ground, appealing to the agreement signed by all parties in 1991. This back-and-forth between both sides is a continuation of previous themes of the territorial dispute. During these decades, the UN has been trying to balance the possible applications of sovereignty and self-determination. Stéphane Dujarric, Spokesperson of the UN, alleged that both Morocco and the Polisario should show some responsibility. Regarding how this unsolved dispute has affected the Sahrawi population, Amnesty International highlights that human rights abuses have been committed in the disputed territory over the last 40 years.

The Sahrawi population has waited for a legal referendum that has not yet arrived. Although this ceasefire was thought to entail peace, the absence of active conflict does not mean that the dispute has settled. The promise of a referendum remains crucial, especially for the many exiled Sahrawis involuntarily living in camps near Tindouf. Still, there seems to be no consensus regarding the census for a referendum for the West Sahara natives. Adding fuel to the fire, President Trump newly recognised Moroccan sovereignty over Western Sahara via Twitter as compensation for the normalisation of Morocco-Israel relations. While this can account for the existing trade relations between Rabat and Washington, Trump’s announcement shows little engagement with the conflict itself and the pleas of the Sahrawi’s.

In the future, the international community will continue to observe how Western Sahara events unfold, most likely with significant concern. Ironically enough, the etymology of the word ‘referendum’ means ‘that must be brought back or taken back’. Concerning the Sahrawi community, maybe the word choice of ‘election’ would be more accurate, as one cannot have back what one never had. In this sense, it is consistent to state that those who were part of the problem should be part of the solution. The UN should embrace a new approach, as this strategy has not proved efficient for the last decades. If the Sahrawi people had the choice of independence or incorporation to Morocco, this setting would feasibly alter.

Sonia is an MA International Affairs student at KCL. She holds a Bachelor in Modern Languages from Universidad Autónoma de Madrid. In her Bachelor thesis she explored the use of language in the context of the Spanish Civil War. She is a gastronomy enthusiast. Sonia follows International Security issues with particular interest.

EU Migration Mismanagement: Canary Islands the new Lesbos?

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by Cristina Romero-Caballero Cuttell

Hundreds of migrants crammed in unseaworthy boats.
Source: Council of Europe

Migrants embarking in unseaworthy boats from Northern and Western African shores or making arduous overland journeys on foot from Middle Eastern countries, such as Syria or Afghanistan, to reach Europe demonstrate the harsh reality of irregular migration. These movements are normally prompted by the perilous circumstances such as wars, ethnical violence or scarcity of essential resources affecting their home countries.

In addition to their tough past and uncertain future, many migrants find themselves alone and vulnerable in foreign lands, often enduring dangerous, inhumane, and degrading circumstances caused by governmental policies where they arrive. For its part, the EU continues to turn a blind eye to the humanitarian issues underlying such migratory movements, focusing mainly on the associated security and logistical matters. This failure to give help where it is most needed is causing extreme suffering at its borders, proving the lack of empathy and solidarity of EU migration laws and regulations towards the arrivals.

The EU aims to show on occasions, the apparent importance it places on safeguarding migrants, leading the European population to believe its actions are sufficient. Germany´s decision in 2019 to take in vulnerable refugees through the European Resettlement Programme, and the provision of EU aid to Turkey to support refugees escaping from Syria, are just some examples. Both overtures initially appear altruistic; yet closer examination reveals they are, by all accounts, insufficient. In March 2020, when the unsustainable situation in Turkey led it to threaten to allow migrants to cross the border into Greece, the EU acted swiftly by providing aid to Greece to seal its Turkish borders. This response was not born from a spirit of goodwill and solidarity; as expected, the EU was simply trying to secure its borders to prevent a reignition of the 2015 crisis. Likewise, the response from other powerful European actors, such as the UK and France, to the plight of migrants has been begrudging at best, and shameful at worst, as exemplified by the recent drownings in the English Channel.

Such a lacklustre response is a deeply controversial issue as the EU aims to protect the interests of all Europeans by ensuring their safety and economic growth; but it fails to do enough for the displaced, asylum-seekers, refugees and migrants. The EU is, in effect, preventing genuine refugees from seeking asylum through laws that disregard outsiders by complicating and slowing down such processes, as dictated, for instance, by the Dublin Regulation. Such law, only permits refugees to seek asylum in the country where they arrive, leaving many without protection since the receiving countries, such as Greece, Italy, Malta or Spain, are overwhelmed. Furthermore, through such laws, refugees are being denied their right to freely choose where to live. Denying such protection and freedom is in breach of the human rights upheld by international law through the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the 1951 UN Refugee Convention, and the 1990 Migrant Workers Convention. This insular and nationalistic approach is dehumanising the lives of those escaping from wars, genocides, terrorist regimes, and the effects of climate change in order to find a place where they can live, instead of remaining in one where they are simply trying to survive.

To confront African migration, the EU is seeking to establish Migration Agreements with third countries in Northern Africa, the ultimate territorial border before the Mediterranean and, hence, European waters. The strong relationship established with Morocco attests to this. Since the 1990s, a series of bilateral re-admission agreements have been signed between Morocco and Spain to cooperate in the control of irregular migration. This cooperation was later complemented by FRONTEX, the EU External Border Agency. In 2013, a new tool was put forward to North African countries as part of the EU Global Approach to Migration. This ‘Mobility Partnerships Facility’, a “long-term framework based on political dialogue and operational cooperation” for collaboration on migration, was accepted by Morocco and Tunisia. Although certain aspects have not yet been finalised, including the controversial readmission issue of third-country nationals (TCN), its implications are visible: higher securitization, and stricter border controls.

West African Maritime Route.
Source: International Organization for Migration

What sounds like a great step forward in helping Morocco to manage the large influx of migrants is, in reality, just shifting part of the migratory issue from the north of Morocco to the south and west, and to southern Sub-Saharan countries such as Senegal, Gambia, and Mauritania, where less control exists. Thus, migrants seeking a better life in Europe now view the more dangerous West African Maritime route, crossing to Spain’s Canary Islands from Africa’s Western Coast, as their only viable option. This is a route that has witnessed over five hundred deaths in 2020, a figure which is likely much higher as not all shipwrecks are reported. Despite the patrols between the archipelago and the African coast, the abundancy of boats has overwhelmed the islands’ rescue and humanitarian services.

As a result, the Canary Islands are currently suffering a humanitarian emergency and Europe is once again ignoring another migratory issue affecting its southern border. Migrant arrivals in Spain’s Canary Islands are at their highest level in over a decade. Although the number of migrants arriving in Spain via the Mediterranean Sea has decreased by fifty per cent versus 2019, arrivals in the Canaries have increased by more than a thousand per cent. These are shocking numbers, but they fail to reflect the reality of the harsh journey as one in every sixteen migrants who embarks upon this gruelling journey dies along the way. For example, on 24 October 2020, a boat caught fire off the coast of Senegal and almost all of its 140 occupants drowned.

Problems do not end upon reaching land as Canary Island authorities lack the capacity to manage the enormous influx of migrants. Gran Canaria is the island feeling the heaviest toll, with its reception centres full and over two-thousand people at a time forced to camp on the dockside in the port of Arguineguin. Concurrently, this humanitarian crisis is impeding the maintenance of coronavirus prevention measures, putting at risk the lives of migrants and those involved in their rescue and care. Moreover, due to tedious bureaucratic and legal procedures, further hampered by COVID-19, these migrants are facing another deadlock as the Spanish government has hindered their transfer to other Spanish regions to prevent the establishment of a new migratory route into Europe. This, together with the closure of African countries’ borders due to the pandemic, is effectively converting the islands into an open-air prison for the 18,000 freedom-seekers currently being held on them, mirroring the appalling situation on the Greek island of Lesbos.

The Spanish Government and the EU both believe that protection should only be provided to those who have the right to it and those who comply with the Dublin Regulation. A study on arrivals in the Canary Islands completed by the UN Refugee Agency in 2020 revealed that over sixty-two per cent were escaping from generalised, gender-based, ethnic, religious or political violence, hence having the right to seek asylum; therefore, Spain and the EU are duty-bound to come to their aid. Nevertheless, there are also, the so-called economic migrants, escaping from the hardship exacerbated by COVID-19 in their home countries. This group is not entitled to international protection and such migrants are liable for deportation to their countries of origin.

To some extent, the caution shown by the Spanish authorities and the EU when handling the irregular arrivals is understandable. Whilst some are genuine refugees, striving to reach a destination where their life is not in danger, this does not assuage the fears of the Spanish government and the EU that some may be members of criminal groups, thereby endangering the security of Europe. For this reason, two measures are required: procedures that ensure protection is provided to all those entitled to it under international law; and, in parallel, the creation of safe deportation routes. Without these improvements to guarantee a dignified response, Gran Canaria risks suffering a similar humanitarian catastrophe to the one befalling Lesbos.

Although logistical processes have commenced, with migrants finally being transferred to tourist complexes unoccupied due to COVID-19, and receiving more dignified shelter, the problem remains unresolved as very few migrants are being transferred to other parts of Spain or Europe, or extradited, due to European and Spanish bureaucracy and the pandemic. Unsurprisingly, some experts suggest that a “Call Effect” has been created, as migrants encourage others to make the dangerous journey, putting further strain on the Spanish system, and placing more lives at risk. Consequently, collaboration between the EU, Spain, and African countries to address the underlying factors spurring migration in the countries of origin is the only way forward. It will not be easy, but the push factors driving migrants from Northern Africa to make the perilous voyage to Europe must be addressed to enable a more long-term solution than the piecemeal efforts undertaken to date. Until such a time, the EU’s moral duty must be to offer help and support to all of those who reach its shores.

Cristina Romero-Caballero Cuttell is a part-time MA International Relations student in the Department of War Studies at King’s College London. Her research interests are around the topics of Migration, especially African migration into Europe, Gender and Human Rights. She is currently a Spanish Red Cross volunteer in the Canary Islands helping with the management of the latest influx of migrants to the islands.

Cristina is a part of the Strife Women in Writing Programme.

How China’s Military-Civil Fusion strategy fuels China’s ambitious military aims

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by Orlanda Gill

Flag of China. Source: Pixabay

Military-Civil Fusion (MCF) is a Chinese state-directed strategy which seeks to modernise the Chinese military by creating a distinct Chinese military-industrial complex. The MCF strategy effectively seeks to eliminate the barriers between the civilian and military sectors, which consist of legal, political, communicative, and bureaucratic divisions. Once eradicated, the result is a fused civil-military sector which allows for simultaneous military and economic growth. Whilst similarities can be found in the Civil-Military Integration (CMI) of the United States in that it shares the same goals of the civilian and military industry working closely together, CMI demands co-operation either within the military industry, or with a civilian company, rather than a complete removal of barriers between the civilian and military industry. The goal of the MCF is to have a ‘world-class military’ by 2050. Whilst the exact meaning is unclear, it can be interpreted to mean China desires to be amongst the world’s greatest military powers. How this would be realised can be understood by analysing China’s strategic guidelines which can be most closely translated to operational doctrine in the West. Realisation of this aim can also be examined through China’s attitude towards the Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA) which for China has placed and will place technological and scientific innovation at the center of war. The MCF therefore must be understood with regards to China’s strategic guidelines and the RMA. Overall, it can be demonstrated that the MCF is about having a modernised military which can fight and dominate in wars that demand technological and scientific superiority.

The MCF is not a new concept. The idea that economic growth cannot be without military is found in Deng Xiaoping, in the early 1980s, who focused on economic development before military equipment modernisation. It was, however, not until the ascension of President Jiang Zemin in 1993 when focus started to shift back more towards defence than solely economic growth. Jiang emphasised dual-use technologies, combining military facilities and civilian infrastructure to streamline military and econoomic spending. These core components, which are at the heart of the MCF, have endured from Jiang until the present, under Xi Jinping. The MCF, however, shares the most similarities to the policies of Xi’s predecessor Hu Jintao whose Civil-Military Integration (CMI) in 2009 sought to integrate the civilian and military sectors.

Whilst this brief historical overview demonstrates the evolution of a concept, the MCF is best understood at the implementation level. The strategy can be seen at work at many different levels: institutional, provincial, and local. At an institutional level, there is a growing number of the former and current senior defence industrial cadre serving in prominent party and state posts, while President Xi Jinping leads the Central Commission for Integrated Military and Civilian Development to monitor Military-Civil Fusion policies. Outside of government, the MCF also extends to universities for research. Currently, Tsinghua University is pursuing human-machine interaction with funding from the CMC Science and Technology Commission, which will likely contribute to China’s modernised military and concept of intelligentised warfare. At the provincial level, among production facilities, beginning in 2019, ten provincial-level governments are investing money into research and overseas acquisitions through guidance funds. At the local level, looking towards Tianjin, an AI Military-Civil Fusion Innovation Center was set up next to the National Supercomputer Center. This was coordinated with the Academy of Military Science. The MCF, therefore, should be understood as a guiding principle enforced and supervised by the state to guide the civilian sector to military usages, whilst retaining the civilian economic benefits from technologically innovating and supplying dual-use technology.

President Xi Jinping has remarked that the MCF strategy is instrumental, and this view is supported by China’s prioritisation of technology in contemporary warfare. The Gulf War (1990-1991) and Kosovo War (1998-1999) for China indicated a Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA) and therefore a new standard and future trend which puts information superiority and thus the quality of technology as a key factor in military victory and for what constitutes a powerful military. This understanding continues in the PLA’s strategic guideline in ‘winning informatised local wars’ in July 2014. An important (although not the only) aspect of this strategic guideline is the role of information. Informatisation ‘refers to the collection, processing, and utilization of information in all aspects of warfighting in order to seamlessly link individual platforms in real time from across the services to gain leverage and advantage on the battlefield.’ The demand for information superiority therefore places importance on the ‘cyber, space, and electromagnetic domains’. The importance of advanced information technologies is thus heightened and the MCF is made a crucial process for the PLA to advance technological innovation at a rapid pace in comparison to its adversaries to gain information superiority. Additionally, the MCF allows China to capitalise from the tech-dominated global RMA and to become a ‘world-class military’ by 2050.

The MCF is also important in what appears to a new and emerging concept known as intelligentised warfare. This may be understood as a ‘uniquely Chinese concept of applying AI’s machine speed and processing power to military planning, operational command, and decision support’. In President Xi Jinping’s report to the 19th Party Congress in October 2017, intelligentisation was elevated to a guiding principle for China’s military modernisation. This conceptualisation of future warfare marks an evolution from informatised warfare. Differences can be analysed in that intelligentised warfare involves an ‘algorithm confrontation’ rather than ‘systems confrontation’ that characterises informatised war. Winning would therefore come from having an ‘algorithm advantage’. Furthermore, whilst informatised warfare recognises the importance of the space and cyber domain, intelligentised warfare would expand the domain of warfare into the cognitive domain which concerns ‘the field of decision-making through reasoning’. Superiority in this domain would be achieved through enhanced cognitive capacity of human combatants via integrated human-machine intelligence. The expansion of warfare into new domains and the potential Revolution in Military Affairs through AI would certainly help produce a ‘world-class military’. The connection of intelligentised warfare and MCF is made explicit when we observe that the PLA’s Science of Military Strategy, an authoritative book on the PLA compiled by the PLA’s Academy of Military Science (AMS), states the intention to ‘Promote deeper military-civil fusion, and leverage societal resources for the development of military intelligentisation’. The MCF is thus integral to China’s capacity to leverage science and technology to bolster their combat capabilities as well as to lead in what China envisions as future wars.

Overall, the Military-Civil Fusion is an ambitious concept and strategy that seeks to modernise the military to great heights by fusing the civilian and economic sectors. The question of its success perhaps depends on whether the PLA is a world-class military by 2050. Nevertheless, the strategy has further implications; it promises China a technological edge, the strengthening of economic security and domestic and international prestige. Therefore, rather than becoming overly attached to what may be perceived as an end goal, it is important to remain open so as to see where the fusion is leading China.

 

Orlanda Gill is a MA National Security Studies student at the Department of War Studies at King’s College, London. Her interest is in East Asian security with a key focus on China’s foreign and domestic policy. She is also currently exploring the technology-security nexus especially with regards to China.

Orlanda is a part of Strife’s Women in Writing programme.

You can find her on Twitter at @orlanda_gill.