UN Peacekeeping: From Hammarskjold to Brahimi and beyond
The UN Charter
The aspirations enshrined in the UN Charter are indeed ambitious. They are nothing
less than the establishment of a global system of collective security, the protection and
promotion of human rights, and the establishment and further development of
economic well-being on an equitable basis for all. But the Charter is also a political
treaty as well as an aspirational document. It was drafted, by three suspicious allies,
when the outcome of the Second World War was not clear, who presented it as a
virtual fait accompli to the other independent states of the world. Not only did the
drafters of the Charter not know what the shape of the post-war world would be, they
were also men and women whose personal lives had surely been marked by the
triumphalism of the late Victorian and Edwardian ages and the catastrophes of the
Great War, Revolution, the Great Depression, the rise of fascism and the, then still
raging, Second World War.
It is easy to see, therefore, why the UN Charter is a flawed document. In a sense it is
a moving tribute to the much-maligned League of Nations to the degree that there was
a general consensus that another universal international organisation needed to be
established. So the Charter had to be that with which the great Powers of the day –
the United States, Britain and the Soviet Union – were prepared to live. Escape
clauses abound, and most of them are easily recognisable by an article which usually
begins with the phrase ‘Nothing in the present Charter…’.
But that is a frank
recognition that without political will little can be done. Nevertheless, it is one of the
glories of the Charter that where a political will exists, then it is an enabling
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document. Moreover, it is not merely the tool of the great Powers, it is also the friend
of small Powers and a facilitator for the growth of international community.
Mesmerised as we have been by the failure of the United Nations to implement the
notion of collective security, at least until the 1990s, we forget that in terms of human
rights the Charter was well in advance of its era. Time and again it demands “respect
for human rights and for fundamental freedoms for all without distinction as to race,
sex, language, or religion” – a respect that was, and remains, far from complete in the
Big Three themselves. The UN became a major vehicle for colonial emancipation.
One of the earliest cases with which the new organisation was seized concerned the
human rights of the Indian community in South Africa.
While sovereignty is
preserved, it can be challenged when human rights are at stake, and sovereign rights
do not always prevail in their entirety. Of course, there is the frequent application of
double standards, but that is a feature of politics at any level. Indeed, we might say
that the business of politics and politicians is to get their double standards right! And
then there is the plethora of Specialised Agencies and Programmes, without whose
work our lives would be radically different. Think of the number of Specialised
Agencies and Programmes whose work is necessary in order for us to have breakfast!
While the UN may not be the epitome of our aspirations, it is surely not a failure,
since we cannot do without it, and if it did not exist we would have to re-invent it.
Elements of the UN system wax and wane. For more than a decade now the Security
Council has been able to play a role in a system of collective security as envisioned in
the Charter, but before that it was not able to do so as the UN System became a
battleground for the Cold War. Likewise, human rights are now pushing back the
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frontiers of sovereignty, but so is globalisation. Progress is not linear, nor is it unidirectional. The threat and actuality of regression is always present. Moreover, the
UN system is capable of self-transformation. There has been one great innovation to
do with peace ─ the development of peacekeeping.
Peacekeeping
The bedrock principle of the United Nations system in striving “to save succeeding
generations from the scourge of war” is the notion of collective security. The idea
itself is tantalisingly simple, but its achievement is fraught with difficulties. Indeed,
there are some who argue that if we fulfil the conditions necessary for collective
security, then we have no need for it, since relations will already be harmonious. A
system of collective security involves the coming together of the members of that
system, in this case the universality of states, to lay down common codes of behaviour
acceptable to all, and to agree upon ways in which those codes of behaviour may be
changed, again according to modalities acceptable to all. But if one state or actor
refuses to abide by the rules or the methods of changing the rules, then that state can
be subject to sanctions. The model is that which supposedly pertains within states,
and it is based on the idea that, as citizens, we share, to a very high degree, values in
common, and therefore we are prepared to allow the collectivity to act in our name
and to exercise a monopoly of organised violence. Such an exercise is likely to be
infrequent, precisely because of the high degree of commonality of values and, on the
analogy with domestic society, where in both France and Britain, with populations of
some 60 million, the prison populations, although rising, are only of the order of 60
thousand, then the international equivalent of a custodial sentence – sanctions,
especially military sanctions – are likely to be a rare occurrence.
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Because of the Cold War collective security remained merely an aspiration for more
than four decades of the United Nations’ experience. But this did not mean that the
United Nations was idle in the pursuit of peace. It was the object of its everyday
business in diplomacy and in functional cooperation, but the centre of gravity had
moved from the Security Council to the Secretariat and the General Assembly.
Nevertheless, there was one area in which the United Nations was able to play a role.
Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjold and Canadian Foreign, later Prime Minister
Lester Pearson realised that although the United Nations was not able to intervene
effectively in the Cold War, it was in a position to ease the contentious relations that
often arose in the process of decolonisation. Indeed, the United Nations had an
important contribution to make if it could prevent the fusion of the Cold War with the
decolonisation process.
Hammarskjold, in particular, was highly instrumental in laying the foundations of
peacekeeping. Such operations are of an actual or potential military character in
actual or potential conflict situations and are based on three principles, namely these
of consent of all the principal parties to the dispute, the non-employment of coercive
force, except for immediate self-defence, and impartiality, in the sense of there being
no obvious bias and that operations should be guided by the mandate and the
principles of the United Nations Charter. Peacekeeping operations depend upon an
agreement, continuously renewed, between the sponsoring states, usually in the
Security Council, the donor states of contingents, the host actors, which were not
always governments, and the managers, who are the UN Secretariat in New York and
the Special Representative and Force Commander in the field.
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The effects of such interventions are usually to maintain and sustain a marked
diminution of hostilities between the parties and to prevent escalation, both within the
area of hostilities and from spreading to other areas. Very quickly UN peacekeeping
operations became involved in a range of tasks including humanitarian activities and
the informal and formal assumption of a range of governmental functions. The UN is,
formally at least, an interstate organisation, but from the very beginning, with a few
notable exceptions, UN peacekeeping has dealt with intrastate conflict, or
transnational conflict. The boundary monitoring force as in Suez, or more recently
between Eritrea and Ethiopia, is the exception rather than the rule. In the early days
the UN was involved in the Lebanon, the Congo, the Yemen, West Irian and Cyprus,
and in the case of the Congo peacekeeping turned into enforcement measures. There
is thus no real ‘second generation’ of peacekeeping, merely differences in degree
rather than in kind.
In 1992, after a relative period of quiescence for UN peacekeeping, where regional
and ad hoc organisations played a greater role, the end of the Cold War and successful
examples of collective security, at least in the military sense, of the United Nations
against Iraq over the occupation and annexation of Kuwait, as well as in the resolution
of such long-standing questions as that of Namibia, suggested that it was time to take
stock under the rubric of a ‘new world order’. There was also a pressing need to
consider those peacekeeping operations which had a tendency to become part of the
problem rather than part of the solution to a problem. By taking the blood out of
conflict, at least to a considerable extent, and thereby often removing a particular
conflict from the global agenda, peacekeeping operations made things sufficiently
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comfortable for the parties to the dispute to the extent that they had little incentive to
take the risks necessary to move towards a self-sustaining, non-coercive resolution of
their conflict. In this sense the parties knew they might not be able to win, but they
also knew that they would not be defeated, and while they could not escape from the
conflict its manifestations were bearable. Very rarely did the Special Representatives
of the United Nations or various negotiators, including Secretaries-General, succeed
in bringing the parties to a dispute to a successful resolution of their contentious
relationship. In short, was peacekeeping merely a palliative, the purveyor, perhaps of
a negative peace, but an impediment towards a positive peace?
The debate turned around a paper prepared by Secretary-General Boutros BoutrosGhali entitled An Agenda for Peace. Written at the request of the Security Council,
meeting at the level of Heads of Government, Boutros-Ghali divided his report into
four clearly indicated, but a fifth rather more contentious section, namely, preventive
diplomacy, peacemaking, peacekeeping, peacebuilding and finally, sotto voce, peace
enforcement. Preventive diplomacy is, of course, part of the everyday business of
bilateral and multilateral diplomacy, but in this context it meant that the United
Nations, in particular, would be more pro-active as an organisation by intervening in
potential conflicts since it was widely recognised, and rightly so, that prevention was
better than cure in almost any circumstances. A leaf was to be taken out of the
Helsinki process book, with the development of confidence building measures,
preventive deployments, such as in Macedonia, and the like. The problem is that
most of those actors that need the help of preventive diplomatic methods are reluctant
to accept them in public, because it is seen as an admission of their own failure, or at
least their incompetence, in managing their own affairs. Peacemaking, on the other
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hand, is the diplomacy, often coercive diplomacy, to achieve a truce in a conflict. The
problem with such action is how to turn an imposed truce into a long lasting peace,
and we have already seen that the third stage, peacekeeping, is likewise fraught with
this problem. It is in this context that the fourth stage, that of peacebuilding, enters
into the rationale. Peacebuilding is not merely about the restoration of basic facilities
after a conflict, although its functional dimension is of great importance. It is a
concerned with fostering a new (democratic) political culture and institutions building
in a wide variety of domains – political, security, economic, social, cultural and of the
like. It is also about the promotion of a new set of relationships. At its grandest this
can be seen in Cambodia, East Timor and Kosovo, but so can all the difficulties that it
entails. Indeed, this is where efforts may be vitiated by the state-centricity of the
United Nations. The member states are a club, and to some degree their status may be
prejudiced if breakaway states in contentious relationships can get away with it,
whether they be Biafra or Kosovo. While states are willing to envisage an amicable
divorce, they are extremely fearful of secessionist tendencies achieved under duress,
since they are not sure who the next ‘victim’ of these processes might be.
The final, somewhat hidden, but nevertheless, controversial subject that An Agenda
for Peace espoused was the notion of peace enforcement. Peacekeeping is neither the
pacific settlement of disputes under Chapter VI of the UN Charter, nor an action with
respect to threats to the peace, breaches of the peace, and acts of aggression under
Chapter VII of the Charter, hence it is commonly known as Chapter Six and a Half.
But peace enforcement challenges two of Hammerskjold’s three basic tenets, namely
those of no use of force and impartiality. The idea is that, within a general climate of
consent, a limited amount of force may be used in a local context, if local actors
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refuse to comply with the mandate, the principles of the Charter, or indeed, the
instructions of their own higher authorities. Such incidents may range from the
activities of a politicised local Mafia to atrocities on an intense but localised scale.
The question is about the extent to which there is a space between no use of force,
except in immediate self-defence, and enforcement measures. It is about mission
cringe and mission creep.
The question posed is to determine what, in effect, keeps a limited action limited, and
the response to that is surely the threat to escalate. It is because the parties are fearful
of the dangers that escalation might bring, that they agree to limit their hostile actions
towards each others. Such agreements can be made if the interests are relatively
symmetric.
‘We won’t shoot our prisoners if you don’t shoot your prisoners’,
assuming that both sides have commensurate numbers of prisoners, is a case in point.
But what happens in cases where there are asymmetries, and in particular,
asymmetries in what is at stake? A desperate, but weak local party may be willing to
escalate, because if it loses at the local level it has lost anyway.
Whereas a
multinational peacekeeping force is likely to be guided by the lowest common
denominator of either the major donors or the principal sponsors, who, rather than
escalating, may assume that the game is not worth the candle, and withdraw. It is
easy to envisage how the space between Chapter Six and a Half of peacekeeping and
Chapter VII of enforcement can become a skid zone whereby once enforcement
measures are used it is difficult to prevent escalation to Chapter VII operations with
all the political repercussions involved therein including precipitous withdrawal in the
force of a deliberate or self-driven process of escalation.
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The experience between 1992 and January 1995 when a ‘Supplement to An Agenda
For Peace’ was published, and again until the summer of 2000 when the Brahimi
Report on peacekeeping was published, was undoubtedly mixed. Sometimes peace
enforcement seemed to work, and on other occasions it plainly did not. But neither
was a rigorous application of Hammerskjold’s principles appropriate in all cases. It
was the task of the Brahimi Report (A/55/305-S/2000/809 21 August 2000) again to
take stock.
The Brahimi Report
The Brahimi Report contains many admirable suggestions. For the most part they are
not controversial if you wish peacekeeping operations to succeed, but that begs the
question of whether members of the Security Council, in particular, are willing to give
a blanket approval to capacity building in the United Nations for peacekeeping
operations. The answer is that they are not, and therefore the controversy is not in the
nature of the proposals themselves, but in the lack of political will to implement them.
Member states want to have their cake and eat it. They require a well-oiled UN
machine to jump into action when they so wish, but they are not willing to approve
and pay for the necessary preparations in case its very readiness might embroil them
in situations in which they do not wish for such action.
At the heart of the report there is a fudge. While it “concurs that consent of the local
parties, impartiality and the use of force only in self-defence should remain the
bedrock principles of peacekeeping”, at the same time it envisages complex
peacekeeping operations which will have a strong propensity to go beyond these
principles. Consider the following quotations from the executive summary; “when
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the United Nations does send its forces to uphold the peace, we must be prepared to
confront the lingering forces of war and violence, with the ability and determination
to defeat them”.
Again, “no amount of good intentions can substitute for the
fundamental ability to project credible force if complex peacekeeping, in particular, is
to succeed. But force alone cannot create peace; it can only create the space in which
peace may be built”. Two further quotations are illustrative: “Once deployed, United
Nations peacekeepers must be able to carry out their mandate professionally and
successfully. This means that United Nations military units must be capable of
defending themselves, other mission components and the mission mandate. Rules of
engagement should be sufficiently robust and not force United Nations contingents to
cede the initiative to their attackers”. Finally, “United Nations peacekeepers – troops
or police – who witness violence against civilians should be presumed to be
authorised to stop it, within their means, in support of basic United Nations principles.
However, operations given a broad and explicit mandate for civilian protection must
be given the specific resources needed to carry out that mandate”.
These quotations signify that the UN will defeat the lingering forces of war and
violence but this assumes that a smouldering fire cannot regenerate itself and the
United Nations will not, willy-nilly, be embroiled in major enforcement actions.
Moreover, it is not clear how force can “create the space in which peace may be
built”. The use of force by the UN might also destroy such a space. Again, how
much force will be necessary if United Nations contingents are not “to cede the
initiative to their attackers”? Are we talking of heavy armour, of the use of air power,
of a significant infantry capability, all of which are likely to involve important civilian
casualties? On the other hand, the authorisation to stop violence against civilians is
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accompanied by the caveat that this will only occur if it is within the means of UN
peacekeepers.
All of this suggests that the UN system wishes in certain circumstances to embrace
enforcement by the back door. Thereby it runs the risk of tears in the long run for it
will have either to escalate significantly or to withdraw, if it is not successful, thus
prejudicing the functions that traditional peacekeeping on the Hammerskjold
principles can perform. The tenor of the debate is to edge further towards Chapter VII
from Chapter VI. Little contemplation has been given to the possibility of edging
away from Chapter VII towards Chapter VI, in other words, to commence with the
stance of enforcement and then to mitigate it. The operation in Sierra Leone has
something of this approach in that the British contingent is not within the UN
framework but clearly bolsters a UN operation. The elements of enforcement and
peacekeeping are being kept separate.
The Brahimi Report does not really address fully one of the fundamental criticisms of
peacekeeping, namely that it may be in itself part of the problem in that it acts as an
impediment to a resolution of the conflict. Neither academics nor practitioners have
an answer to this conundrum. We do not even have rules of thumb which indicate
what sort of peacekeeping operation in a particular sort of conflict is likely to give a
specified outcome if coupled with particular modes of peace making and peace
building. We shall not have a permanent peace until we have clearer minds on the
theory and practice of such relationships.
The larger debate
There are many inconsistencies in United Nations peacekeeping, indeed one could
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call them hypocrisies. We have already mentioned one which is the desire to have a
well-oiled machine on tap, presumably under the Secretary-General’s control, coupled
with a refusal to authorise the preparations necessary to create such a machine
because of the fear of the political uses to which it might be put. Indeed its very
creation would send a political message. A second hypocrisy is to complain about the
many deficiencies of the UN system for peacekeeping.
This system could be
ameliorated without any great difficulty. There is no dearth, in the Brahimi report or
elsewhere, of excellent suggestions which are perfectly feasible but lack the necessary
financial resources for their implementation. The sums required are in reality modest
in comparison, say, with the military expenditure of even a medium ranking military
Power. However, the question is not financial, it is a question of political will. If the
United Nations, in general, and peacekeeping in particular, are not financed in a
reasonable manner then the question of finance becomes a tool for political control.
Some states, notably the United States, do not pay in full or they pay in arrears. In
order for the United Nations to squeeze the money out of them they insist on
additional political concessions simply for doing their duty and for fulfilling their
obligations. Of course the United States are not alone in doing this, but question of
payment for peacekeeping and for other activities is clearly a means of political
blackmail.
Linked to this are two further inconsistencies. The Security Council seems to have no
qualms about passing resolutions which give a mandate for a peacekeeping force
knowing full well that it will be extremely difficult to implement or couch the
resolution in such terms that it gives no clear direction. Sometimes an argument can
be made to justify such an action in that a mission and a mandate, however
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incoherent, may be better than no mission and no mandate. On other occasions it is
merely a means of passing the onus to the Secretary-General, the Secretariat and,
more particularly, the Field Commander and the Special Representative. In short, it is
a wilful disregard of responsibilities. This can be illustrated in a further inconsistency
that has been discussed above, namely the unwillingness to recognise that the
abandonment of the principle of consent at any level, including the local level, and the
use of enforcement even if only at the local level, is a risky policy. Members of the
Security Council seem to be unwilling to accept the logic of that which they want to
happen and their responsibilities therein. They may want a ‘pretend’ peacekeeping
force because they are not willing to face the obligations of enforcement.
But
however limited the use of force, there is always a potential for escalation and it helps
not at all to have an ostrich-like attitude towards this propensity. A willingness to
endorse the notion of safe areas but not to provide the means by which such safe areas
could be enforced is a case in point. Such an attitude leads to tears.
From the Gulf War in 1990-91 to the Kosovo conflict, and now during the
Afghanistan conflict, the UN’s humanitarian agencies as well as humanitarian NGOs
have been faced with an ever-growing problem of their political profile. Prior to the
last decade there had been a tendency of many of the UN agencies in this area to
move towards to a status not dissimilar to that of the International Committee of the
Red Cross. That is to say that its neutrality was assured even where a UN organ such
as the Security Council might make political judgements between the parties and in
the conflict. However, the Gulf War saw a reversal of this trend with the growing
politicisation of all the UN agencies and NGOs as they became associated with a
institution bent on enforcement action, or in the case of former Yugoslavia, in that
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contradiction in terms, ‘peace enforcement’. The situation is repeating itself in a
fortiori in Afghanistan. While the International Committee of the Red Cross was
sometimes treated as ‘boy scouts’ because of their insistence on the niceties of
neutrality and a few NGOs such as Medecins sans Frontières eschewed any
connection with Nato forces in Kosovo, and indeed with UN enforcement operations,
those peacekeeping operations and the peace building efforts on the humanitarian side
have fallen ever increasingly under the wing of the military. This makes them less
acceptable to the actors who feel themselves to be coerced and therefore they become
legitimate targets, at least in their eyes. That these actors may be morally repugnant is
not the point, rather the point is to aid those people most in need. They are frequently
those who need humanitarian aid in areas under the control of actors who are the
target of law or quasi-law enforcement measures by the UN or illegal or quasi-illegal
action by actors who have not received the blessing of the Security Council. We are
thus faced with an emerging problem. If humanitarian operations and consequent
peacekeeping activities and peace building activities lose the cachet of help for all in
need regardless of status or the standing of the local political authority, access may be
denied or a peacekeeping force related to an humanitarian operation may seem to be a
legitimate target. We need therefore to reflect upon the process of politicisation of
humanitarian activity and to look again at the methods and ethics of those
organisations which have preserved a high degree of neutrality and gone out of their
way to reject any process of politicisation by stealth.
Many of the conflicts in which peacekeeping forces are now being deployed arise in a
situation where the Westphalian system is being rocked to within an inch of its life.
In many ways the Westphalian system is an anomaly and we are returning to normal,
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that is situations where there are wide ranges of actors, multi-loyalties, quasiindependent functional systems and a variety of forms of governance. In such a
situation there is a tendency for a peacekeeping operation to move from helping the
parties to a dispute towards providing an element of governance in a particular entity.
It is very different matter to move from the provision of help with the agreement and
at the request of local authorities to providing what is in reality a temporary form of
government whether there is a local authority to sanction it or not and irrespective of
any local wishes that may be discerned. This is not a new problem for the United
Nations. It first manifested itself in the Congo in 1960 and there have been numerous
cases since such as West Irian, Namibia, Cambodia, various entities of the former
Yugoslavia, Somalia and most recently East Timor. It may well be that the United
Nations will be called upon to play a like role in Afghanistan. What should be the
role of a peacekeeping force in such a situation? Is it merely to protect humanitarian
operations as well as to monitor whatever peace there is to keep? Is it to go further, as
in Kosovo, by acting as the overall agent for the reconstruction of an entity in its
political, economic and administrative, legal and security aspects and if so on what
principles should a peacekeeping force act? On some occasions the role of has been
clear, namely it is to enable a people either to exercise their right of selfdetermination, as in the case in East Timor but as was not the case in West Irian, in
practice if not in theory, or, as in Cambodia, to give a people the opportunity again to
exercise a fundamental act of self-determination.
The UN is in a difficult situation in such cases because, as An Agenda for Peace
pointed out, and has been subsequently reiterated, sovereignty is a fundamental value
of the Charter and is a principle very dear to the member states. But the world is not
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like that and so the UN system finds itself hamstrung in that the need for action on its
part in a post-Westphalian world is evident while there are many who regret, or even
oppose, such activity because of its threat to sovereignty-a/sovereignty in which they
have a vested interest.
We seem to be evolving not towards a trusteeship system as set out in Charter, but
towards a system more in common with the Class A mandates of the League of
Nations.
The Trusteeship Council of the United Nations cannot be used as a
framework for UN programmes in Afghanistan, Kosovo (Yugoslavia), Somalia, or
indeed, in Bosnia. The reason for this is that they are all member states of the UN,
and therefore independent states, and the Trusteeship Council is not empowered to act
in such a circumstance. For it to do so would require revision of the Charter and this
is unlikely to occur. However, the Security Council could establish a subsidiary body
to act along the lines of the Trusteeship Council for independent states which are
going through a process of a renewal of self-determination. This would involve an
acknowledgement of formal sovereignty, at least in the external sense, although it is a
suspension of a substantial element of internal sovereignty. This is close to the status
of Class A mandates under the League where former entities in the Ottoman Empire
were acknowledged as being quasi-independent but requiring substantial assistance
for a short period of time. In such situations the security element is likely to involve a
substantial policing task which will involve a militarised gendarmerie.
Such a force will have to deal with the post-conflict strategy and the different forms
of this have wide-ranging implications for a peacekeeping force. If the post-conflict
strategy is one of retribution led by the erstwhile victims who take their revenge on
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their former masters, as occurred in Kosovo, or as has been a sickening concomitant
of the reversal of fortunes in Afghanistan, then the security role is fundamental. The
role of the peacekeeping force where there is a legal process, which is nevertheless
that of courts established by the victors, is rather more difficult.
The former
Yugoslavia gives many instances of this and if a peacekeeping force takes a major and
active role in support of the victors’ courts, then it risks alienating the vanquished and
perhaps moving the conflict more towards another cycle of violence than in the
direction of resolution.
The third strategy of restitution is much easier and an excellent example of this is the
policy of successive New Zealand governments vis-à-vis the Maoris and many of the
agreements made between the British Crown and the Maori Chiefs which were
implemented, either partly or in full, by local settlers.
Such situations can also be
found in Australia, Canada and to a lesser degree the United States where the
treatment of Japanese-Americans in the Second World War created a situation
requiring restitution. In such circumstances there is no usual need for a peacekeeping
force but
there may be in a situation where there is a truth and reconciliation
commission. This may be an appropriate way towards conflict resolution but its
establishment and conduct can be difficult to achieve where the conflict is in the
recent past. Where the forces of law and order of the old regime and those of the
newly acknowledged and legitimised forces for change are not yet well integrated and
there are a large number of ex-soldiers swelling the labour market and when the level
of trust is not yet sufficiently high and fully assured, then in such circumstances the
peacekeeping force could provide an extra element of security that might allow a
difficult process of peace and reconciliation to move more smoothly forward.
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There seems to be a much wider agenda for peace which has nevertheless a specific a
concern for peacekeeping than is to be found in the contributions of Boutros-Ghali or
Brahimi. Yet such considerations do have to be faced because they are a part of the
world for which peacekeeping is relevant. We can learn about them the hard way
through bitter experience in the future, but the best way is to learn about them now.
There is, therefore, the need to for both academics and practitioners to go beyond
Brahimi.
A J R Groom
Canterbury December 2001
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