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THE UBC JOURNAL OF INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS


THE JOURNAL OF INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS

THE 2016 ISSUE OF THE UBC JOURNAL OF INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS

The Annual Publication of the International Relations Student Association The University of British Columbia Vancouver, B.C.

Cover Design: Ophir Moshkovitz Cover Photograph: Adrian Cheung Back Cover Photograph: Philippe Roberge

The cover photograph represents the dedication to architectural integrity in Czech Republic. Taken from the Astronomical Clock overlooking the historic centre of Prague, the photograph symbolizes the enduring nature of Czech culture in its 1,100-year existence despite the countless political struggles. The back cover photograph features a busy street in downtown Vancouver. Photographer Philippe Roberge writes: "Waiting for the bus, I was taken aback by the sheer amount of movement happening around me. Cars were zooming by as people were crossing the street, as street lamps and signs were starting to light up. It had a very urban feel to it, and I felt the need to capture the moment. The long focal length did a good job of compressing the depth of field into a tight compact shot of Granville Street."


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CONTENTS Contributors Foreword Introduction The Domestic Priority Daniel Jacinto Military Loyalty During Civil Unrest Shereen Kotb Testing the Ice Paul AndrĂŠ Narvestad Lessons from Afghanistan Julian D'Souza More Than Feasible Robert Gorwa Resistance to the International Criminal Court Karen Slakov Paper References Contributor Biographies Sponsors

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CONTRIBUTORS Editors-in-Chief Jordan Buffie Nicole Chan

Senior Editors Paul André Narvestad, Audrey Tong

Editors Maahin Ahmed, Nemee Bedar, Peter Bennet-Koufie, Harleen Brar, Tristan Bobin, Anson Ching, Akshay Iyer, Queena Lau, Jacob Medvedev, Andres Orduz

Layout and Design Ophir Moshkovitz Authors Daniel Jacinto, Shereen Kotb, Paul André Narvestad, Julian D'Souza, Robert Gorwa, Karen Slakov

Photography Adrian Cheung, Philippe Roberge

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FACULTY REVIEWERS Dr. Mark Warren

Department of Political Science

Dr. Lisa Sundstrom

Department of Political Science

Dr. Richard Price

Department of Political Science

Dr. Kurt Huebner

Department of Political Science

Dr. Kyung-ae-Park

Department of Asian Research

Dr. Allen Sens

Department of Political Science

Dr. Samuel LaSelva

Department of Political Science

Jenny Peterson

Department of Political Science

Michael Byers

Department of Political Science

Arjun Chowdhury

Department of Political Science

SPECIAL THANKS Dr. Steven Lee

Chair, International Relations Program

Parmida Esmaeilpour

UBC Journal of Political Studies

Andrea Reynolds

International Relations Program

Bridgitte Taylor

Editor-in-Chief, UBC Outside-In

Gregg Iftody

MET Fine Printers

2015 UBC International Relations Student Association | All rights reserved. 313 – 6476 NW Marine Drive | Vancouver, BC | Canada | V6T 1Z2 The UBC Journal of International Affairs is a publication of the International Relations Student Association of the Alma Mater Society of the Unitversity of British Columbia. All articles published in the Journal of International Affairs represent the opinions of the authors and do not reflect the policies or opinions of the University of British Columbia, the staff of the Journal of International Affairs, or the International Relations Student Association. The University of British Columbia does not assume any responsibility for errors or omissions in this journal.


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FOREWORD Dear Reader, On behalf of the International Relations Student Association, I would like to welcome you to the 2015/2016 issue of the UBC Journal of International Affairs. The JIA has been in publication at the University of British Columbia for over 30 years, distinguishing it as one of the oldest and most revered undergraduate journals at the university. The production of the journal has always been made possible through extensive collaboration and this year was no different. The excellent content that will follow this letter has been the product of the collective efforts of UBC’s world class faculty and some of the top students at the university through a rigorous faculty- and peer-reviewed process. The JIA prides itself on showcasing some of the best academic writing in the world. In addition to accepting submissions from UBC, the journal also solicits submissions from Universitas 21, a network of twenty-six research-intensive universities spanning seventeen countries and territories. This has granted the journal the unique opportunity to highlight a diverse range of perspectives from around the world, and distinguish itself as a truly global publication representative of today’s globalized world. I would like to extend my most earnest of congratulations to the entire 2016 JIA team on another successful publication and personally thank them for the hours of effort, commitment and diligence they poured into the journal. To the co-Editors-in-Chief Jordan Buffie and Nicole Chan, the entire editorial board and the publication team, I thank you. In addition, I would like to thank the Liu Institute for Global Issues, the UBC Sustainability Fund and the UBC International Relations program for their continued support for our association and this publication. I now present you the 31st volume of UBC’s Journal of International Affairs, I hope each paper offers you an enlightening perspective on some the most important international issues driving our world today. Enjoy! Sincerely, David Markwei President, 2015/2016 UBC International Relations Student Association

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INTRODUCTION Dear Reader, Welcome to the 2016 issue of the UBC Journal of International Affairs! Now in its 31st year of publication, the Journal of International Affairs is UBC's oldest undergraduate publication. While many things transform with the passage of time, our dedication to upholding rigorous editorial standards and our commitment to displaying exceptional undergraduate research remains unchanged. This year, the Journal of International Affairs continued to pursue our goal of becoming a genuinely international undergraduate student journal. Following the direction laid out by last year's editorial team, this year's board solicited submissions from the Universitas 21 research network. The journal received an impressive field of submissions, each reflecting international perspectives on many salient topics. We will also be digitizing this year's issue in the hopes of preserving the journal's history while sharing the outstanding work of undergraduate students with a broader audience. The six papers published in this issue were selected for their originality, skilled composition, nuance, argumentative strength, and diversity. Slakov investigates the ways in which international norms affect how states choose to resist the authority of the International Criminal Court. Jacinto's contribution analyzes the relationship between domestic policy and the legal status of North Korean refugees in the People's Republic of China. Through the use of a comparative analysis, Gorwa makes a contribution to the “resource curse” literature by showing how different forms of government mismanagement of natural resources increase the likelihood of violent civil conflict. Using the Arab Spring as a case study, Kotb provides an account of the structural determinants of military loyalty during times of widespread nonviolent protest. Focusing on Canadian foreign policy, D’Souza argues for an increased training role for the Canadian Armed Forces in global counterinsurgency operations. Finally, Narvestad shows how the Ukraine crisis has affected cooperation between Norway and Russia in the Arctic. We would like to express our gratitude to all students, faculty, and staff who contributed to this issue. Our editorial and production staff have invested immense time and energy to make this year's publication of the Journal of International Affairs possible. We would also like to thank UBC faculty for their timely and productive feedback, without which we would not be able to maintain our high academic standards. In addition, we have chosen to partner with the Outside In photo journal this year when selecting our cover photo. Thank you to the staff and photographers of Outside In for their time, energy, and contribution. We also like to thank the AMS Sustainability Fund, whose ongoing and generous support enables us to print using sustainable resources. Last, we would like to thank our readers for their continued support and interest, and without whom there would not be a Journal of International Affairs. Sincerely, Jordan Buffie and Nicole Chan Editors-in-Chief, 2016 UBC Journal of International Affairs


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The Domestic Priority CHINA’S RESPONSE TO THE NORTH KOREAN REFUGEE CRISIS AND ITS IMPLICATIONS DANIEL JACINTO

On May 8, 2002 international media published dramatic photos and videos of five North Koreans—two men, two women, and a three-year old child— making a mad dash away from police towards asylum in the Japanese consulate in Shenyang, China. All five were arrested by Chinese authorities by the end of the incursion attempt. In the aftermath, Japanese Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi called Chinese police’s entrance into the consulate to detain two of the defectors a “violation of the Vienna Convention” 1. On the other hand, Chinese ambassador Wu Dawei outright disagreed, claiming it was China’s responsibility as host country to secure the consulate’s safety from these illegal immigrants23. While the defectors were ultimately granted permission to resettle in South Korea due to the high negative publicity of the event4, recent cases have not ended in the same manner. In late May 2013, Yonhap News Agency reported that China had received the ‘Laos Nine’—a group of nine North Korean youth defectors—from Laotian authorities and repatriated them back to North Korea5. On November 21, 2015, Human Rights Watch reported that a group of nine defectors were transferred from Vietnamese to Chinese custody, and from there taken to a military garrison in Jilin province by the China-North Korean border6. Such repatriations occurred—and still occur—in spite of non-refoulement principles of refugee asylum being entrenched in international law. Thus, the Chinese policy response to the North Korean refugee crisis provides insight to understanding why certain international ideals—even when codified in 1 2

“Japan-China spat over North Koreans,” BBC News, May 9, 2002, accessed April 4, 2015, http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/1976702.stm. Elisabeth Rosenthal, “North Koreans Seek Asylum at Consulates in China,” New York Times, May 9, 2002, accessed April 4, 2015, http://www.nytimes. com/2002/05/09/world/north-koreans-seek-asylum-at-consulates-in-china.html.

3

“N. Koreans halted at Japan’s Shenyang Office,” The China Post, May 9, 2002, accessed April 4, 2015, http://www.chinapost.com.tw/news/2002/05/09/26269/ N-Koreans.htm.

4

“Defector still bitter over consulate’s handling of Shenyang incident,” The Japan Times, May 10, 2003, accessed April 4, 2015, http://www.japantimes. co.jp/2003/05/10/announcements/defector-still-bitter-over-consulates-handling-of-shenyang-incident/#.VSMPQ_nF9qU.

5

“Nine defectors repatriated to N. Korea from China: official,” Yonhap News Agency, May 29, 2013, accessed February 20, 2016, http://english.yonhapnews. co.kr/national/2013/05/29/17/0301000000AEN20130529010900315F.HTML.

6

“China: Don’t Return Nine North Korean Refugees,” Human Rights Watch, November 21, 2015, accessed February 20, 2016, https://www.hrw.org/ news/2015/11/21/china-dont-return-nine-north-korean-refugees.


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international law—cannot be enforced. Examining the North Korean refugee crisis as a case study, this paper will argue that despite legal definitions that would suggest the need for protecting North Korean refugees, China’s desire to protect domestic economic and political interests supersedes its international legal responsibilities in granting asylum to North Korean refugees. This case study suggests that domestic economic and security interests— particularly those of veto-wielding United Nations Security Council states, such as China —limit the effectiveness of international law on issues such as human rights. However, reframing human rights to increase their applicability to the UN Security Council mandate and slightly limited implementation of the Responsibility to Protect (R2P) may provide an avenue for successful human rights discourse at this level. This paper will first lay out the framework of North Korean refugees’ humanitarian plight and their resulting entitlement to refugee protection under international law. Next, Chinese law and policy actions will be examined in order to illustrate the rationale behind China’s refugee repatriation. Finally, this paper will examine how China’s resulting human rights deflection policies at the United Nations subsequently play a role in restricting current human rights discourse at the Security Council level, and several strategies that can be employed to re-engage states with concerns over human rights abuses.

THE REFUGEE CRISIS The main humanitarian issue addressed in this paper is that of refugees fleeing the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK). According to the South Korean Ministry of Unification, 1,516 North Koreans—371 men and 1145 women— entered the country as refugees in 2013. This number is not an anomaly. The number of annual North Korean refugees entering the South has fluctuated from as few as 947 in 1998 to as many as 2,914 in 20097. However, a 2013 survey by the Korean Institute for National Unification (KINU) and the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health estimated that China, as a major exit point from North Korea, was

7

Republic of Korea Ministry of Unification, 2014 White Paper on Korean Unification (Seoul: Ministry of Unification, 2013), 186.

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home to around 8,708 defectors with an additional 15,675 North Korean children8. The reasons for departure are varied, although economic motives feature commonly among both defectors living in China and those who successfully escaped to South Korea. A 2004-2005 survey conducted on North Korean refugees residing in China revealed that 94.7% of participants have left the North due to economic reasons, with 1.8% seeking political freedom, 1.8% having fled out of fear, and 0.2% pursuing religious freedom. Another 2008 survey by the same researchers conducted in South Korea revealed identical causes for defection, with only variances in proportion: 56.7% had fled for economic reasons, 27.0% for political freedom, 8.0% out of fear, and 1.0% for religious freedom9. A 2014 KINU survey of 221 North Koreans who defected that same year revealed 38.91% left for financial reasons, 19.46% due to grudges against the regime, and 6.33% in fear of punishment10. The frequency of economic-related defections was spurred on by the continuing effects of widespread famine in the 1990’s, often labelled the ‘Arduous March’, which was caused by inclement weather, the breakdown of North Korea’s public distribution system, and the cutoff of aid from the collapsing Soviet Communist bloc11. The other motivations for defection reflect the political state of North Korea: the lack of freedom of thought, expression, religion, movement and residence, the discrimination in North Korea’s assigned social class system, the state’s deprivation of the right to life, arbitrary detention, abduction, and other violent crimes12.

DEFECTORS UNDER INTERNATIONAL LAW As previously mentioned, more North Korean defectors claim to have left due to economic hardship than to any other motivations; only a smaller—though increasing—portion of refugees claimed political motivations. However, this economic push factor alone does not entitle North Korean defectors to refugee 8

Do Kyung-ok, Kim Soo-Am, Han Dong-ho, Lee Keum-soon, and Hong Min, 2015 White Paper on Human Rights in North Korea (Seoul: Korean Institute for National Unification, 2015), 429.

9

Stephan Haggard and Marcus Noland, Witness to Transformation: Refugee Insights into North Korea, (Washington, DC: Peterson Institute for International Economics, 2011), 30.

10

Do et al., 2015 White Paper, 29.

11

Stephan Haggard and Marcus Noland, Famine in North Korea, (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007), 52-73.

12

United Nations Human Rights Council, Report of the detailed findings of the commission of inquiry on human rights in the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, A/ HRC/25/CRP.1 (7 February 2014), 45-319.


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status. The widely observed definition prescribed by the UN Convention and Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees grants the status to those who, owing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group, or political opinion, is outside the country of his/her nationality and is unable to or, owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail him/ herself of the protection of that country13. Nevertheless, Article 117 of the DPRK’s criminal code imposes heavy restrictions on movement14; violation(s) of this statute subjects repatriated defectors—those who fled the North without authorization—to physical punishments, verbal abuse, discrimination, forced labour, detention, forced infanticide or abortion for those impregnated outside of the DPRK, and potential execution upon return to North Korea15. According to a 2012 report by the Committee for Human Rights in North Korea, some distinction is made within the penal system between those who fled to China on political motives, and those who fled on the basis of food or employment. However, both forms of defectors are often sent to the same interrogation, political re-education, or short-term/long-term labour facilities; the only difference is the option of being sent to a dedicated political penal colony for those with political motives. David Hawk, former Executive Director of Amnesty International and author of the report, notes that “[it] should not be assumed that the lifetime prison camps or the longer-term penitentiaries…are ‘worse’ or more brutal than the shortterm interrogation/detention facilities and the short-term forced-labor facilities... Nor should it be assumed that the repatriated persons deemed to have committed a political offense…are treated “worse” or more brutally than those North Koreans… who went to China for food or employment”16. As argued by Elim Chan and Andreas Schloenhardt, the criminalization of departure and over-breadth of the resulting penal consequences are made with the intent to punish the defectors for challenging the political order of the DPRK, as opposed to simply persecuting on the grounds 13

United Nations General Assembly, “Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees,” 28 July 1951, United Nations Treaty Series vol. 189, No. 2545, p. 137, art. 1A(2).

14

Dinah PoKempner Tae-Ung Baik, and Mike Jendrzejczyk, The Invisible Exodus: North Koreans in the People’s Republic of China (New York: Human Rights Watch, 2002), 20.

15

Ibid, 20-24.

16

David Hawk, The Hidden Gulag, Second Edition, (Washington, DC: Committee for Human Rights in North Korea, 2012), 118-122.

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of violating the law. As a result, this creates an imposed political opinion—and fear of retribution—which constitutes the well-founded fear stipulated by the Refugee Convention and Protocol needed for classification as a refugee17.

CHINESE INTERPRETATION AND DOMESTIC CONCERNS China does not accept an argument entitling North Korean defectors to refugee status, despite China’s domestic law having various provisions that would allow for the accommodation of refugees. For instance, Article 32 of the Constitution of the People’s Republic of China states that China “may grant asylum to foreigners who request it for political reasons”18. In addition, China’s Exit and Entry Administration Law would allow for the entrance of refugees to the extent that “foreigners who are recognized as refugees may stay or reside in China on the strength of refugee identity certificates issued by public security organs”19. Nevertheless, as many as 300 attempted refugees are repatriated back to the North by China every week20. The rationale behind this can be seen in a letter by Wu Haitao, the Chinese ambassador to the UN, in response to the Commission of Inquiry on Human Rights in North Korea: “DPRK citizens who have entered China illegally do it for economic reasons. Therefore they are not refugees”21. The vast majority of refugees and border crossers in China that have historically fled the North under economic motives give Mr. Wu’s statements some credence, although recent shifts in motivations for defection puts this into question. Regardless, Chinese authorities use this definition as a legal means to deny North Korean defectors refugee protection. By labelling North Korean defectors as economic migrants who have violated China’s entry and exit laws, these individuals are subject to on the spot interrogation, detention, and later repatriation under Chinese legislation22. To further mitigate North Korean defectors into China, Pyongyang has also extensively increased security along the North Korean-Chinese border and around foreign embassies that may act as safe havens, as demonstrated in the 2002 Shenyang case23. 17

Elim Chan and Andreas Schloenhardt, “North Korean Refugees and International Refugee Law,” International Journal of Refugee Law 19, no.2 (2007), 227-228.

18

People’s Republic of China, Constitution of the People’s Republic of China, art. 32.

19

People’s Republic of China, Exit and Entry Administration Law of the People’s Republic of China, art. 46.

20

Chan and Schloenhardt, “North Korean Refugees and International Refugee Law,” 222.

21

United Nations Human Rights Council, Report of the commission of inquiry on human rights in the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, A/HRC/25/63 (7 February 2014), 33.

22

People’s Republic of China, Exit and Entry Administration Law, arts. 59-60, 64.

23

Chan and Schloenhardt. “North Korean Refugees and International Refugee Law,” 237.


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These responses are due to China’s fear of the potential domestic economic and political consequences of granting these defectors protection. China has acceded to—and thus is legally bound by—both the Convention and Protocol relating to the Status of Refugees24. If China were to grant refugee status to North Koreans, this may create a two-fold chain of events. Firstly, under Articles 32 and 33 of the Refugee Convention—to which China has posed no reservations25—China may be required to bear the accommodation costs in hosting the refugees, along with some degree of aid26. Secondly, the refugee designations may open China’s borders to an influx of North Korean refugees eager to avail themselves of the nearby refuge. Historical precedent provides two potential outcomes for an influx scenario. In the first, the refugee source-state, so to speak, can face collapse as massive swathes of its population flee elsewhere. Julie Park and Andrei Lankov both cite the case of Hungary where, in 1989, Hungary opened its borders to Austria, allowing East German defectors access to West German asylum. This arguably facilitated East Germany’s collapse27,28. If one is to consider a North Korean collapse due to a similar refugee out-migration, the collapse would force China’s involvement in a military stabilization mission along the North Korean border where it may once more find itself face to face with South Korean and American troops also responding to the security crisis29. The second, more likely potential outcome for an influx scenario would involve a collapse—or at least severe economic and political strain—on the part of the destination-state, in this case China. Economically, such an influx may result in an oversaturation of China’s labour force30. North Korean refugees, because of their lack of legal recognition in China, are able to slip past employment regulations and receive bare minimum wages, thus crowding out their legal Chinese working counterparts31. This is especially troublesome for Chinese residents along the China24

United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, States Parties to the 1951 Convention relating to the Status of Refugees and the 1967 Protocol (as of April 1, 2011).

25

United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, Reservations and Declarations to the 1951 Refugee Convention, 7.

26

Andrei Lankov, “North Korean Refugees in Northeast China,” Asian Survey 44, no.6 (2004), 868.

27

Julie Yeo Hoon Park, “China’s ‘Way Out’ of the North Korean Refugee Crisis: Developing a Legal Framework for the Deportation of North Korean Migrants,” Georgetown Immigration Law Journal 25, no.2 (2011), 519.

28 29

Lankov, “North Korean Refugees in Northeast China,” 868. Gregory J. Moore, “How North Korea threatens China’s interests: understanding Chinese ‘duplicity’ on the North Korean nuclear issue,” International Relations of the Asia-Pacific 8, no.1 (2008), 519.

30

Ibid, 520.

31

Lankov, “North Korean Refugees in Northeast China,” 862.

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DPRK border given that the majority of North Korean defectors who are able to land a job, despite China not being their final destination, spend over two years in China taking up local jobs in an attempt to save enough money to fund their resettlement elsewhere32. Politically, a permanent and growing Korean ethnic enclave along the border regions may give rise to problems of ethnic non-cohesion. Historical evidence for civil unrest in these circumstances is plentiful: Gregory Moore points to ethnic minority conflicts like that of Albanians in Kosovo as an analogy for what could take place between an ethnic Chinese majority and a rapidly growing migrant North Korean enclave33. Within China, the potential for ethnic conflict could be seen following the 2009 Urumqi uprising in Xinjiang that saw roughly 200 people killed34. There, rapid changes in the regional ethnic composition along with economic inequity based on ethnic grounds led to the marginalization of the Uighur minority, thus creating violent ethnic conflict35. The current Syrian refugee crisis is also exemplary of potential civil backlash and instability against refugee influx worldwide. In late October 2015, a racially-driven school attack by a 21-year old assailant killed two victims and injured another two—all with immigrant backgrounds—in response to government announcements of increased refugee acceptances. In early February 2016 a refugee camp in Calais, France witnessed an anti-migration protest that saw demonstrators clashing with police and 20 recorded attacks on refugees.36 Later that month, Germany saw its own anti-migrant rallies37 and cheers from onlookers at a suspected arson attack on a building intended for housing new migrants38.

CHINA’S POLICY OF DEFLECTION AT THE UN Bearing these destabilizing domestic concerns in mind, the Chinese 32

Haggard and Noland, Witness to Transformation, 33.

33

Moore, “How North Korea threatens China’s interests, 17.

34

“Xinjiang police to ‘strike hard’,” BBC News, November 3, 2009, accessed April 5, 2015, http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/8339367.stm.

35

Jungmin Seo and Young Chul Cho, “Rethinking Beijing’s Geostrategic Sensibilities to Tibet and Xinjiang: Images and Interests”, Pacific Focus 28, no.2 (2013),

305. 36

Tomos Morgan, “Anti-migration protest at a refugee camp in Calais France,” BBC News, February 6, 2016, accessed February 21, 2016, http://www.bbc.com/ news/world-europe-35513467.

37

Joseph Nasr and Matthias Inverardi, “Anti-migrant protest turns violent as German welcome cools,” Reuters, January 9, 2015, accessed February 20, 2016, http://www.reuters.com/article/us-germany-assaults-idUSKCN0UN0JQ20160110.

38

“Germany migrant shelter fire ‘cheered by onlookers’,” BBC News, February 21, 2016, accessed February 21, 2016, http://www.bbc.com/news/worldeurope-35625595.


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government has regularly attempted to deflect international discussion away from the North Korean refugee issue. From 2011 to 2013, China has rejected various United Nations General Assembly agreements pertaining to human rights as a whole. At the UN General Assembly from 2011 to 2013, China’s representatives Li Xiaomei and Yao Shaojun repeatedly stated China’s opposition to “country-specific resolutions” and blamed Western countries for using human rights issues as political leverage. Here, China made explicit reference to its definition of North Korean defectors as illegal immigrants with economic motives, thus asserting its alleged compliance with international law. These statements were accompanied by votes against directly discussing human rights issues in North Korea, Syria, and Iran, often citing respect for sovereignty as a justification against intervening in internal affairs39. A similar pattern occurred during the UN Security Council’s 7353rd meeting on December 22, 2014, when China voiced opposition to the inclusion of North Korean human rights on the UN Security Council agenda and voted against the motion40. There, Ambassador Liu Jieyi emphasized that the “Security Council is not a forum designed for involvement in human rights issues, and still less should human rights issues be politicized”. He then explicitly stated: “We oppose the adoption of any outcome document by the Council on the human rights situation in the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea”41. At the UNSC’s 7575th meeting on December 10, 2015, China broadened this statement with Ambassador Wang Min declaring: “China is always opposed to intervention by the Council on issues concerning the human rights situation in any country”42. By deflecting discussion away from human rights in general within the UNSC, China has created a universal policy stance through which it can avoid the domestic ramifications of being held accountable for the North Korean crisis. 39

United Nations General Assembly, Summary record of the 47th meeting: 3rd Committee, held at Headquarters, New York, on Monday, 21 November 2011, General Assembly, 66th session, A/C.3/66/SR.47 (21 November 2011); Summary record of the 27th meeting: 3rd Committee, held at Headquarters, New York, on Friday, 2 November 2012, General Assembly, 67th session, A/C.3/67/SR.27 (2 November 2012); Summary record of the 45th meeting: 3rd Committee, held at Headquarters, New York, on Tuesday, 27 November 2012, General Assembly, 67th session, A/C.3/67/SR.45 (27 November 2012); General Assembly official records, 67th session: 60th plenary meeting, Thursday, 20 December 2012, New York, A/67/PV.60 (20 December 2012); General Assembly official records, 68th session: 70th plenary meeting, Wednesday, 18 December 2013, New York, A/68/PV.70 (18 December 2013).

40

United Nations Security Council, Security Council, 69th year: 7353rd meeting, Monday, 22 December 2014, New York, S/PV.7353 (22 December 2014), 2-3.

41

Ibid, 16.

42

United Nations Security Council, Security Council, 70th year: 7575th meeting, Thursday, 10 December 2014, New York, S/PV.7575 (10 December 2015), 2 (emphasis added).

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BROADER IMPLICATIONS OF CHINA’S DEFLECTION POLICY China’s blanket policy response has spilled over into other crises as well. For instance, at the 7180th Security Council Meeting in May 2014, China—with the Russian Federation—vetoed a draft resolution that would bring the Syrian government to the International Criminal Court. Ambassador Wang Ming justified the action, stating “any action to seek recourse to the International Criminal Court to prosecute the perpetrators of serious violations should be conducted on the basis of respect for State judicial sovereignty and the principle of complementarity...this is our principled position”43. Speaking on the humanitarian situation in Syria on February 26, 2015, China emphasized that the Syrian Government held primary responsibility for the protection of its civilians; bodies like the UN should only provide assistance “on the basis of respect for Syria’s independence, sovereignty, and territorial integrity, and avoid politicizing humanitarian questions”44. Seen in the Syrian case above, China’s veto as a permanent member has the potential to place decisive boundaries on Security Council human rights discourse as a by-product of China’s ‘principled position’ and justifications rooted in respect for sovereignty and nonintervention. Due to the structure of the veto system, the UN Security Council—perhaps the only institution with the coercive power to force action in these sorts of human rights situations—is unable to address such issues. This situation will last as long as the policy concerns of the permanent members conflict with the dictum of international law, much like how China’s domestic fears currently conflict with its international refugee obligations. There is little evidence to suggest that China is due to modify its opposition towards country-specific human rights resolutions. Rather, it is likely to continue deflecting any attempt to enforce China’s refugee obligations in the North Korean question, among other issues, and consequently any attempt to address human rights at the highest international level.

PROSPECTS FOR SECURITIZED HUMAN RIGHTS AND LIMITED R2P Adopted at the 2005 World Summit, the Responsibility to Protect (R2P) 43

United Nations Security Council, Security Council, 69th year: 7180th meeting, Thursday, 22 May 2014, New York, S/PV.7180 (22 May 2014), 13.

44

United Nations Security Council, Security Council, 70th year: 7394th meeting, Thursday, 26 February 2015, New York, S/PV.7394 (26 February 2015), 21.


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affirmed that “each individual State has the responsibility to protect its populations from genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing and crimes against humanity.” Regarding state failure to uphold this responsibility, the UN General Assembly agrees to use “appropriate diplomatic, humanitarian and other peaceful means” for such protection; failing that, states are “prepared to take collective action”45. The case of North Korea likely falls into the ‘crimes against humanity’ category, as evidenced by the political state of North Korea as a whole and by the treatment of repatriated defectors, detailed above. As an emerging international norm, the R2P on face value could act as an avenue for the resolution of these human rights issues through external pressure. However, in practice there are numerous obstacles that would prevent an application of the R2P in North Korea. For instance, Alex Bellamy points out how limited areas for engagement with the North, such as the prioritization of nuclear non-proliferation and the regime’s ideological entrenchment, complicate attempts at diplomatic negotiation with North Korea46. The nuclear issue in particular would hedge any consideration of a collective intervention. Nevertheless, this does not completely discredit the R2P in its application to the North Korean scenario. Perhaps a more practical solution involves laying the structural framework for later R2P diplomatic initiatives by maintaining discourse of North Korean human rights issues at the UN Security Council, particularly by keeping China—one of North Korea’s closest allies and its direct geographical neighbour—engaged in such discussions. This would necessitate a reframing of the North Korean human rights issue so as to nullify China’s deflection policies as outlined above, and would also require adding a slightly accommodationist flavour to the R2P doctrine in terms of implementation. As mentioned previously, China generally relies on two main justifications to defend against including human rights into the Security Council’s agenda: the first is the allegation that human rights falls beyond the scope of the UNSC; the second is the notion of sovereignty and non-interference in a state’s internal affairs. In addressing the first justification, any attempt to bring human rights discussions 45

United Nations General Assembly, 2005 World Summit Outcome, A/RES/60/1, (24 October 2005), par. 138-139.

46

Alex J. Bellamy, “A chronic protection problem: the DPRK and the Responsibility to Protect,” International Affairs 91, No. 2 (2015): 239-240.

10


11

JACINTO

to the UNSC by any other member state must involve a securitization of human rights issues—that is, emphasizing the potential threats to a state that prolonged human rights abuses may pose. In the North Korean case, this would involve the domestic security risk that defectors—increasingly driven by political motivations that no longer fit China’s repatriation justifications—could pose within China. Addressing concerns of sovereignty and non-interference, on the other hand, may involve tailoring the definition and scope of the R2P doctrine itself. As Bellamy and Drummond have noted, the case of Southeast Asia’s gradual movement in favour of the R2P emerged through a domestication of the norm to fit the region’s strongheld values of non-interference. This involved calls to place clear limits on what the intervening force is able to do, and for some degree of consent on the part of the host country47. Limiting the extent of the R2P’s application in North Korea in a similar manner could help alleviate Chinese concerns of a second Western-led invasion of the Korean peninsula—a security concern right along its own border and within China’s sphere of influence. These modifications to both the R2P and the framing of human rights abuses themselves fall in tandem with China’s primary concerns over the R2P’s application. As Liu and Zhang have found, the main concern among Chinese scholarship is not so much the principled basis of the R2P, but rather its implementation48. The ultimate goal of such an approach would be to lay the foundation for greater diplomatic engagement under the same principles of the R2P (i.e. states being responsible for the security of their populations) without necessarily infringing on the sovereignty of the state in question. In the case of the North Korean refugee crisis, reframing the refugee issue in terms of its domestic security impact on China, with clearly defined limits on the extent of invasion, plays to China’s own domestic priority. Additionally, this could also increase the probability that China would allow such issues to be discussed at the Security Council on a regular basis, thus paving the way for later R2P engagement. 47

Alex J. Bellamy and Catherine Drummond, “The responsibility to protect in Southeast Asia: between non-interference and sovereignty as responsibility,” The Pacific Review 24, No. 2 (2011): 195-196.

48

Tiewa Liu and Haibin Zhang, “Debates in China about the responsibility to protect as a developing international norm: a general assessment,” Conflict, Security & Development 14, No. 4 (2014): 422.


THE DOMESTIC PRIORITY

CONCLUSION In concluding this discussion, it is important to restate several facts regarding the North Korean refugee crisis and the implications that can be derived from it. Under the current international legal system, North Koreans may be entitled to refugee protection due to their political persecution upon repatriation to North Korea. As a major exit point China, which receives a large number of North Korean refugees, does have domestic legal stipulations that would accommodate political refugees. China is also bound by international legal documents which demand adherence to the principles of non-refoulement and stipulate the protection of refugees. However, China’s definition of North Korean defectors as economic and illegal immigrants allows China to sidestep these obligations and continue with forced repatriations and other domestic policies designed to prevent North Korean refugees from staying in China. This policy stance is the direct result of domestic fears over the disruption of China’s labour market, political and ethnic tension, and the potential collapse of North Korea—factors which guide China’s recalcitrant stance against the discussion of North Korean human rights on the international level. More broadly, this case is exemplary of the kinds of motives that inevitably end up shaping the discourse of human rights issues at the highest international level. As it stands, the idea of R2P can serve as a means to bring human rights discourse into the UN Security Council for more direct action. For the purposes of laying proper framework for diplomatic engagement in order for R2P application to succeed, it may be useful for these human rights concerns to be securitized in order to fall within the scope of the UNSC. As well, any implementation methods would need more precise guidelines and limitations in order to quell concerns of noninterference and infringement on sovereignty. In the absence of such an approach, however, the current international system demonstrates that domestic priority plays a more powerful role in guiding policy than any obligation to an unenforceable international standard—the social cost of which is the ongoing North Korean refugee crisis, among other human rights dilemmas.

12


13

KOTB

Military Loyalty and Civil Unrest: A CASE STUDY OF EGYPT, BAHRAIN AND LIBYA SHEREEN KOTB

In Why Civil Resistance Works, Maria J. Stephan and Erica Chenoweth make the argument that, in cases of nonviolent popular uprising, security forces1 are more likely to shift their loyalty away from the regime to protesters, as opposed to when they are violent. However, their argument does not explain why in some cases of nonviolent resistance, security forces remain loyal to the regime while in others, their loyalty shifts to the protesters. This was one of the observations made during the Arab Spring. Although the protests in each of the countries engulfed by the Arab Spring generally began as nonviolent demonstrations against authoritarian regimes and while their respective militaries were given orders to repress them, the responses of the militaries varied.2 Thus, the aim of this paper is to further Stephan and Chenoweth’s theory by accounting for this variation in military responses to nonviolent popular uprisings. This will be done through an investigation of the determinants of military loyalty to a regime during the Arab Spring. This paper will apply Michael Makara’s respective definitions of military loyalty and defection as the willingness of the military to follow the regime’s orders to use force against the protesters and as its lack of willingness to do so.3 Military loyalty will be categorically measured in terms of whether the military remained loyal and used force against the protests, did not remain loyal and refused to use force against them, or fragmented – i.e. a significant portion of 1

Why Civil Resistance Works deals with security forces, which is an umbrella term that encompasses military and internal security forces. This paper will focus on military forces, as the discrepancy in military responses was the most notable observation made during the Arab Spring; Erica Chenoweth, and Maria J Stephan. 2011. Why Civil Resistance Works.

2

Militaries defected in Egypt and Tunisia, remained loyal to ruling regime in Syria and Bahrain, and fragmented in Libya and Yemen; Michael Makara. 2013. “Coup-Proofing, Military Defection, And The Arab Spring”. Democracy and Security 9 (4): 334.

3

(Makara 2013, 339); Note that this definition includes, but is not limited to, cases in which the military joined the protesters. This is because the military’s refusal to follow the orders of the regime, regardless of whether they join the protesters, is sufficient evidence that the regime no longer enjoys the military’s loyalty.


MILITARY LOYALTY DURING CIVIL UNREST

the military remained loyal while others defected. Three case studies will be used for this investigation: Egypt, as a country in which the military did not remain loyal to the regime, Bahrain, as a country in which it did, and Libya, as a country in which it fragmented. These countries are appropriate cases for this investigation as they were all governed by authoritarian regimes that experienced mass dissent, and in all cases, the regime ordered the military to use force against the protesters.4 Other countries such as Syria, Tunisia and Yemen would have been equally appropriate case studies,5 and an investigation of all of the countries that experienced the Arab Spring would have also yielded valuable results. However, this paper chose to focus on three cases - each representing one of the three categories of military loyalty – in order to provide more qualitatively, rather than quantitatively, valuable findings. This paper will assert that military loyalty in Egypt, Bahrain and Libya was determined by the military’s will to maximize its interests, which were determined by the following three factors: the military’s enlistment procedure, the degree of military institutionalization, and the existence of foreign troops within military ranks. As such, the military maximized its interests by remaining loyal to the regime in cases where it was institutionalized, did not include foreign troops and had an enlistment procedure that did not exploit communal identities. Conversely, the military maximized its interests by defecting in cases where it was not institutionalized, included foreign troops, and had an enlistment procedure that exploited communal identities. As for the case of partial defection in Libya, the inconsistency in military loyalty was determined by the lack of homogeneity in the Libyan military’s composition, and the subsequent absence of a unified and singular set of institutional interests. This argument is based on the assumption that the military is a rational institution that acts to maximize its interests. It draws on the theories of neoliberal institutionalists, such as Keohane (1984),6 which argue that actors are rational, self interested, and have the capacity to cooperate in cases where such cooperation would maximize its interests. 4 5

Zoltan Barany. 2011. “The Role of the Military”. Journal of Democracy 22 (4): 30. An investigation of any combination of the Arab Spring countries, with one case representing each category of military loyalty, would have yielded equally valuable results. The choice to investigate Egypt, Bahrain and Libya was based on the greatest availability of academic literature regarding military responses to the Arab Spring uprisings.

6

Robert O Keohane. 1984. After Hegemony. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press.

14


15

KOTB

MILITARY ENLISTMENT PROCEDURE The leading theory on the effect of a military enlistment procedure is that it determines military loyalty by shaping the composition of the military body and its relationship with the broader societal identity. Such a relationship is referred to as “social distance”.7 However, an analysis of the cases of Bahrain, Libya and Egypt will reveal that an enlistment procedure determines the interests of the military in so far as it exploits the communal identities in society by granting favor to groups that share the regime’s identity, as opposed to those that do not. This process fuses the interests of the military with that of the regime, thereby making it more likely to preserve the regime in times of civil unrest. This is illustrated by the cases of Bahrain and Libya, which exploited communal identities, and Egypt, which did not. Fruzsina Tofalvi, one of the few academics that notes the relationship between recruitment procedure and military loyalty, argues that when an enlistment procedure, such as conscription, produces a military body that reflects the composition of society, the military will be less willing to use force against popular uprisings.8 On the other hand, when an enlistment procedure, such as one that is selective or exclusionary, produces a military that does not reflect society, the military will be less willing to defect.9 This is based on the notion of “social distance,” employed by Chenoweth and Stephan; the more distant the military is from society, the less likely it is to share social ties with the protesters, making disloyalty less likely, and vice versa.10 From a quantitative perspective, Zoltan Barany reaffirms this claim by arguing that conscripted soldiers are more likely to sympathize with a broadly supported revolution, and finds that, “Virtually all major rebellions in the twentyfirst century bear out this hypothesis”.11 While a superficial analysis of the cases of Egypt, Libya and Bahrain would appear to satisfy this argument, a more nuanced examination reveals that social distance is a determining factor of military loyalty to the extent that it is achieved through the exploitation of communal cleavages. In Egypt, the military was - and 7

(Chenoweth and Stephan 2011, 189)

8

Fruzsina Tófalvi. 2013. “Disloyalty And Regime Change”. CEU Political Science Journal, no. 8.1: 85.

9

(Tófalvi 2013, 85)

10

(Chenoweth and Stephan 2011, 189)

11

(Barany “Explaining Military Responses to Revolutions” 2013, 8)


MILITARY LOYALTY DURING CIVIL UNREST

continues to be - conscription based. At the age of 18, military service is compulsory for men, and lasts for eighteen months for those with a university degree, and three years for those without.12 This system of conscription produces a military body that largely represents a cross-section of society, not favoring membership along sectarian lines. Further enhancing the shared identity of the military and the protesters, which were largely youth, was the fact that approximately 12% of conscripts were (and continue to be) young men.13 According to Tofalvi, the high degree of shared identity between the military and protesters explains the military’s decision to defect. However, as demonstrated by Michael Makara, an enlistment procedure that does not entail the exploitation of communal identities, such as conscription, does not sufficiently explain military loyalty. For example, it cannot account for the Egyptian internal security forces’ use of force against the demonstrations, despite a similarly shared identity with the protesters.14 Neither can it account for the military’s willingness to suppress popular uprisings after the successful overthrow of the Mubarak regime.15 Despite the popular belief in Egypt that closeness in identity was the reason that the military sided with the protesters, and while such closeness may have been felt by individual members of the military, it was not a determining factor of military loyalty. This is because a feeling of social and cultural affinity experienced by members of the military towards the protesters does not sufficiently affect the interests of the military so as to determine its decision on following the orders of their regime. Therefore, in contrast to Bahrain and Libya, the enlistment procedure in Egypt was not a determining factor of military loyalty, as it did not exploit social cleavages. Unlike conscription, enlistment procedures that involve the exploitation of communal identities determine military loyalty, as such exploitation directly determines the interests of the military. Sectarian enlistment procedures exploit communal identities, as they are discriminatory and base membership on ethnic, religious or socioeconomic background. It is important to distinguish between two 12

Exceptions are made to the mentally or physically disabled, only sons, individuals with multiple nationalities, and students during their studies. Egypt: Information on Military Service. Rep. N.p.: UN Refugee Agency, n.d. Refworld. Web.

13

(Tofalvi 2013, 91)

14

Internal security forces is used here to specifically refer to the police.

15

(Makara 2013, 344)

16


17

KOTB

types of sectarian enlistment mechanisms - selective based systems, in which certain groups are favoured over others, as found in Libya, and exclusionary systems, in which certain groups are entirely excluded, as found in Bahrain. In sectarian based systems, the military composition will reflect the composition, and thus the interests, of the sectarian group from which it is chosen, rather than of society as a whole. This is especially true when the marginalized group make up the majority of society. Unlike conscription, sectarian enlistment procedures determine military loyalty, as in such cases the interests of the military directly oppose the interests of anti-regime protesters.16 Some regimes intentionally fill the military with members of a specific sectarian group – usually a minority group that corresponds with the identity of the ruling class – to ensure that the interests of its members oppose that of the broader society, and to prevent military disloyalty. This is especially effective in cases where the ruling class is a minority sectarian group. This was the case in Bahrain, which had an exclusionary military enlistment procedure. Despite making up 70% of the Bahraini population, Shia Muslims have lived under the rule of the minority Sunni Muslim al-Khalifa family since 1783, and have been widely discriminated against across various sectors of society.17 Such discrimination extends to Bahrain’s Armed Forces, which Shias are not allowed to serve in.18 This has prompted Zoltan Barany to reject it as being a “national army.” Instead, he describes it as a Sunni Muslim fighting force, mandated to protect the interests of the minority Sunni elite.19 Therefore, exclusionary enlistment procedures that produce a state of competing interests between the military and the broader society ensure that such a military will be more willing to use force against broad-based uprisings, and account for the Bahraini military’s decision to forcefully repress the 2011 anti-regime protests. The case of Libya is more complex, as the military fragmented – neither fully defecting nor fully remaining loyal to the regime. Ultimately, this fragmentation 16

Zoltan Barany. 2013. “Explaining Military Responses To Revolutions”. Arab Center For Research And Policy Studies: 4.

17

(Lutterbeck 2012, 43); Justin Gengler. “Bahrain Drain.” Foreign Affairs. N.p., 5 Sept. 2014. Web.

18

Shia representation in other security agencies in Bahrain, while allowed, is very limited. For example, according to Bahrain’s Centre for Human Rights, less than 5% of country’s internal security apparatus, the National Security Agency, is made up of Bahraini Shias. However, the case of security forces outside of the military is beyond the scope of this paper; Derek Lutterbeck. 2012. “Arab Uprisings, Armed Forces, And Civil-Military Relations”. Armed Forces & Society 39 (1): 43.

19

(Barany “The Role of the Military” 2011, 35)


MILITARY LOYALTY DURING CIVIL UNREST

was also the result of an enlistment procedure that exploited communal identities, however, to a lesser extent than in Bahrain. This exploitation of tribal cleavages is illustrated by the fact that the enlistment procedure of part of the military body was conscription based,20 while the other was selective based. The selective based enlistment procedure was applied in the paramilitary forces, which included the Revolutionary Committees, the Revolutionary Guards and the People’s Guards.21 Unlike other sections of the Libyan armed forces, these paramilitary forces consisted of volunteers, rather than conscripts, who were generally made up of members of the tribe to which Gaddafi belonged, and joined out of support for the regime and the aim to preserve it.22 Moreover, unlike other parts of the armed forces, “these forces [were] highly ideological and subject to constant indoctrination”.23 They received privileges that the rest of the military did not and generally had higher salaries, more modern equipment, and the like.24 Therefore, during the protests, these forces remained loyal, as they represented the section of society that benefited from, and had vested interests in, the regime - whether ideologically or materially. Meanwhile, many of the conscripts in the Libyan military originated from eastern Libyan tribes, which were generally underprivileged, and which competed over economic resources and political influence with the regime and its tribal affiliates. The interests of the eastern tribes were in direct contrast to the interests of volunteer forces and the regime, which accounts for the decision of the members of these tribes to defect entirely from the military when the 2011 Libyan uprisings began.25

THE DEGREE OF INSTITUTIONALIZATION Another factor that determines the interests of the military, and thus its loyalty to the regime, is its level of institutionalization. The concept of an institutionalized organization, and in this case military, is defined by Eva Bellin as one which is rule20

At the age of 18, all men and women must serve in the military. As a result of the secretive nature of Muammar Gaddafi’s regime, the details of the length and nature of compulsory military service in Libya have not been disclosed; The World Factbook 2013-14. Washington, DC: Central Intelligence Agency, 2013

21

Gaddafi created this fragmented security apparatus due to a history of distrust of the armed forces. During his reign, four military coups were attempted against him. Therefore, he created parallel security agencies whose role was to protect the regime against domestic threats, including challenges from the regular army; (Barany “The Role of the Military” 2011, 30)

22

(Lutterbeck 2012, 31)

23

ibid.

24

(Barany “Explaining Military Responses to Revolutions” 2013, 6)

25

(Makara 2013, 353)

18


19

KOTB

based, meritocratic and apolitical. It is one in which career paths and advancements are merit-based and there is a clear distinction between the public and private sphere. Furthermore, such a military is governed by an ethic to serve the people.26 In contrast, a patrimonial military is one which is not institutionalized. It is characterized by rampant corruption, a blurred distinction between the public and the private realm, and cronyism, in which promotions are based on political loyalties and tribal, ethnic or religious affiliations.27 According to Bellin, institutionalization is inversely related to the will to repress reform. The more institutionalized a military establishment is, the less willing it will be to repress reform, while the less institutionalized it is, the more willing it will be to do so.28 This is because institutionalization separates the military from the regime, and allows it to have a distinct organizational identity, function and career path. In Bellin’s own words, “Officers can imagine separation from the state… They do not perceive that they will be ‘ruined by reform.’”29 Conversely, patrimonialism fuses the identities and functions of the state and the military, thereby making the survival of the military establishment highly dependent on that of its regime. The distinction between institutionalized and patrimonial militaries is not relevant in the case of Bahrain for the purposes of this paper. Bahrain’s exclusionary enlistment procedure ensures that the military is already highly politicized and characterized by cronyism. Therefore, whether or not the military is institutionalized makes no significant difference to the interests of the Bahraini military, which are already highly opposed to those of the majority Shia society. On the other hand, the distinction between patrimonialism and institutionalization does affect the interests of the militaries of Egypt and Libya in a significant way. Although neither completely institutionalized, nor completely patrimonial, an evaluation of the Egyptian military would reveal it to be more patrimonial than institutionalized. On the one hand, the Egyptian military is professional and predominantly meritocratic. Military careers and advancements are merit-based, 26

(Bellin 2004, 145)

27

Ibid.

28

Ibid.

29

Ibid.


MILITARY LOYALTY DURING CIVIL UNREST

despite the existence of some cronyism at the highest levels in recent years.30 On the other hand, it is also highly politicized and there is no clear distinction between the public and private sphere, as the military has significant interests in the economy. Since the military overthrow of the monarchy in Egypt in the 1950s, the military has expanded its influence into the economy. It began investing and running major projects in tourism, industry and real estate. It has particular influence in agriculture and land reclamation, arms manufacturing, construction and services.31 Therefore, according to Lutterbeck’s extension of Bellin’s theory of institutionalization, the more involved a military is in the economy, the more likely it is to remain loyal to its regime, as it would fear losing its economic interests under the rule of another regime.32 An analysis of the Egyptian military’s economic dependence on the regime would yield a prediction of military loyalty during the 2011 revolution, which contradicts the reality of the military’s response. The Egyptian military’s decision to defect can be explained by the fact that its economic interests had begun to significantly decline. Under the rule of Hosni Mubarak, the government initiated the privatization of much of the economy, such as banks and reclamation projects, at the expense of the military’s interests.33 Moreover, it was expected that Gamal Mubarak - Hosni Mubarak’s son and expected successor - would further economic privatization. Therefore, while the partially patrimonial Egyptian military initially had vested interests in the regime, they were being increasingly threatened. It became in the military’s interest to remove the regime during the 2011 uprisings to secure its economic influence. The Libyan military was also patrimonial, yet, in a different sense than its Egyptian counterpart. Unlike in Egypt, advancements and career paths within the Libyan military were largely determined by political loyalties and tribal affiliations under Gaddafi’s rule. Although the rank and file of the military was conscripted from the general populace, Gaddafi gave key military positions to members of his 30

(Lutterbeck 2012, 36)

31

Sara Salem. “The Egyptian Military and the 2011 Revolution.” Jadaliyya. N.p., 6 Sept. 2013. Web.

32

(Lutterbeck 2012, 37)

33

(Sara Salem 2013)

20


21

KOTB

own tribe and close relatives.34 Moreover, all of Gaddafi’s paramilitary forces were led by loyal tribesmen or relatives.35 This form of cronyism was a coup-proofing tactic that Gaddafi employed. He attempted to maintain the loyalty of the military by ensuring that the privileged positions of these forces depended on the survival of the regime. The result was that the units of the military that were led by relatives of, and loyal tribesmen to, Gaddafi remained loyal to his regime and responded to the protesters with unrestrained force.36

NATIONAL VERSUS FOREIGN MILITARIES The final significant determinant of the interests of the militaries in Egypt, Bahrain and Libya during the Arab Spring was nationality. When the composition of the military is based largely on foreign recruitment rather than nationality, the military has more vested interests in the regime than one purely filled with nationals, ceteris paribus. This is because foreign troops are paid for their military service by the regime, and unlike some national militaries, they do not share the grievances of the protesters. Therefore, as their interests are purely monetary and dependent on the survival of the ruling regime, they are more likely to remain loyal than militaries purely composed of nationals. Of the three cases, the Egyptian military is the only one that consists entirely of nationals. However, this does not in itself explain why it did not remain loyal to the regime. The absence of foreign troops does less to explain military loyalty than their presence. To say that having a purely national army causes military loyalty is to reflect the “social distance” argument and its flaws. The level of shared identity or nationality only determines military loyalty in so far as it entails common interests between the military and the broader society. Due to the economic, and at times political, dependence of foreign troops on the ruling regime that they serve, their interests directly clash with those of anti-regime protesters. As a result, the effect of the use of foreign troops in Bahrain and Libya on military loyalty is more significant than the effect of the use of nationals in the Egyptian military. 34

(Barany “The Role of the Military” 2011, 33)

35

(Barany “The Role of the Military” 2011, 30)

36

(Makara 2013, 344)


MILITARY LOYALTY DURING CIVIL UNREST

Bahrain engages in a process of “political naturalization”, in which Sunni foreigners – mainly from Pakistan, Yemen, Syria and Jordan – are recruited to join the armed forces. In return, they are rewarded financially and regularly granted citizenship.37 The Bahraini regime does this because while it wants to increase the size of its largely Sunni military, it lacks a significant native Sunni population. Political naturalization has resulted in the dominance of foreign Sunnis in various parts of the Bahraini military. According to Bahrain’s Center for Human Rights, 75% of the members of the National Security Agency and 90% of the Special Security Force Command are Sunni foreigners.38 These foreign troops remained loyal to the regime, as the interests of the Sunni-minority and Shia-majority Muslims in Bahrain directly oppose to one another. This is especially true for naturalized Sunni Bahrainis, who remained loyal to the regime not only because they financially benefited from it, but also in large part because they feared that their citizenship would be revoked if there were a change in regime, given the controversy over the legitimacy of their citizenship.39 Unlike Bahrain, Libya did not engage in a process of political naturalization. However, both Bahrain and Libya employed foreign troops in their militaries. Gaddafi is said to have used foreign troops mainly from Chad, Mali and Niger, while Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates collectively sent 1,500 security forces to Bahrain to help protect the regime.40 Like the foreign Sunnis in Bahrain, it was in the interests of these foreign troops to remain loyal to the Libyan and Bahraini regimes, as they financially benefitted from them. They had no reason to defect militarily, as they did not share the grievances of the protesters. The result was a brutal military response against the protesters in both countries, with thousands of lives lost in Libya, including those of civilians.41

37

Sharon E Nepstad. 2013. “Mutiny And Nonviolence In The Arab Spring: Exploring Military Defections And Loyalty In Egypt, Bahrain, And Syria”. Journal Of Peace Research 50 (3): 343.

38

(Lutterbeck 2012, 43)

39

(Nepsted 2013, 343)

40

(Lutterbeck 2012, 41; Nepstad 2013, 343)

41

(Lutterbeck 2012, 41)

22


23

KOTB

CONCLUSION Although this paper does not attempt to create broad generalizations of the determinants of military loyalty to its regime, it has come to certain conclusions related to the three case studies that prompt further research. It is evident from a comparative analysis of the cases of military loyalties during the protests in Egypt, Bahrain and Libya that there is a correlation between the institutional interests of the military and military loyalty. The interests of the military are determined by its enlistment procedure, degree of institutionalization and use of foreign troops. In cases where the military would benefit from the fall of the regime, it was less likely to remain loyal to it. In cases where the military benefitted from the survival of the regime, it was more likely to remain loyal to it. Contrary to popular belief, it was not closeness in identity that determined the Egyptian military’s decision to defect. Rather, this was a result of its level of institutionalization. As a partially patrimonial institution, with heavy interests in the economy, the military’s defection was driven by their will to preserve these interests, which had been increasingly threatened under the Mubarak regime. In Bahrain, military loyalty was similarly determined by the military’s desire to protect its interests. The exclusionary enlistment procedure ensured that only the privileged Sunni minority, naturalized Sunnis and foreign troops were represented in the military, making the political and economic interests of the military highly linked to the survival of the regime. This ensured that the military remained loyalty during the uprisings, as a means to protect its interests, which were directly threatened by the Shia-majority anti-regime protests. In Libya, the military’s fragmentation in its loyalty to the regime was a result a lack of a unified institutional identity and set of interests. Like Bahrain, the paramilitary forces, elite members of the military and the foreign troops remained loyal to the regime, as their privileged economic and political positions depended on it. Meanwhile, many conscripted soldiers defected, as they shared the grievances of the protesters and resented the distribution of economic and political influence along sectarian lines. The result of the fractured loyalty of the Libyan military was a drawn out and bloody six-month civil war. While a more


comprehensive study is required to establish broad theoretical generalizations, the findings of this paper are nevertheless significant. These findings would prove valuable in predicting the degree of military loyalty in future cases of mass uprisings, thereby predicting the probability of a revolution’s success and the robustness of authoritarian regimes.


25

NARVESTAD

Testing the Ice

HAS THE UKRAINE CRISIS AFFECTED COOPERATION IN THE ARCTIC? PAUL ANDRÉ NARVESTAD

The Arctic is commonly known as a “region of exception”. Its politics are characterized by exemplary cooperation between former Cold War adversaries through establishing agreements, institutions and settling disputes over resource abundant areas. The region consists of the five littoral states: Canada, Denmark (Greenland), Norway, Russia and the United States (US). It is geographically unique: uniting Eurasia and North America, which consequently makes the Arctic involve key global actors from across the Northern Hemisphere. Inevitably, Arctic states are involved with non-Arctic issues and global events. In 2014, the Russian Federation sparked an international crisis by annexing Crimea and fuelling further conflict in the Eastern Ukrainian provinces of Donetsk and Lughansk. This has created a state of diplomatic tension between Arctic states; for instance, the European Union (EU) and the US have implemented sanctions on Russia. Has this reaction been consistent? Have developments in Eastern Europe soured cooperation in the Arctic? This essay investigates what the state of cooperation in the Arctic in the midst of turmoil can tell us about international relations by using Norwegian-Russian High North Politics as a case study. At the theoretical level, the paper uses Robert Keohane and Joseph Nye’s concept of complex interdependence to explain the pattern of responses to the Ukraine Crisis in the Arctic. The findings in this essay uncover that there has been a twofold response, or dual reaction in Arctic politics: channels of local cooperation that exclusively concern Norway and Russia have remained stable, while channels that involve the two states on a multilateral level have been discontinued. Cooperation in the Arctic consists of a complex constellation of relations. Keohane and Nye’s concept of complex interdependence recognizes that “multiple channels connect societies”,1 and this essay will investigate cooperation through a nuanced lens based on this theory. Cooperation will therefore be examined through different approaches: environmental, economic, military, and people-to-people. The case study has been selected for various reasons. Norway and Russia both share land borders and maritime boundaries in the Arctic. As opposed to other regions within the Arctic such as the Bering Strait, these 1

Robert Keohane and Joseph Nye, Power and Interdependence: World Politics in Transition (Boston, Toronto: Little, Brown and Company, 1977), 24.


TESTING THE ICE

two states share a populated border with historic human interaction. Since the end of the Cold War, cooperation between the two societies has evolved progressively in fisheries, boundary limitations agreements, environmental protection, military, as well as oil and gas exploration. Nevertheless, this bilateral relationship is asymmetric: one is a great unpredictable power and the other a small state bound to institutions with other great powers - Norway is a member of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), and has close ties to the EU, which means it is tied to obligations of international institutions that oppose recent Russian aggression.

COMPLEX INTERDEPENDENCE Complex interdependence was developed to counter the notions of realism, however it is not a theory, but a concept. “Interdependence� in global politics refers to activities in which there are reciprocal effects among states or actors,2 and evolves out of transnational communications, economic cooperation, and human interaction.3 Complex interdependence examines international relations through different channels between societies: interstate relations (government elites and militaries), transnational organizations (firms and corporations), and informal non-governmental elites (interaction between the citizens).4 The concept operates on three main assumptions: (1) there is an absence of hierarchy in state policies; (2) societies communicate through multiple channels of communications; and (3) military force is largely irrelevant.5 The essay will employ the first two assumptions of complex interdependence to analyze the case study. The third assumption regarding the irrelevance of military force will be not included because it fails to explain militarization of the Arctic and the very fact that Russia used military might in Ukraine. The absence of a hierarchy and the presence of multiple channels of communication results in a complex web of relationships across the world. Military force loses its significance as the key power tool because states are incentivized to refrain from waging war as it would harm themselves.6 Complex interdependence challenges the realist notion that the Westphalian state is the key actor in world politics by claiming other non-governmental agencies have significance in global politics. This dependence is normally not balanced symmetrically, which means that states would be equally dependent of each other. Rather, large states tend to dominate, and create relationships of asymmetry. 2

Ibid, 8.

3

Ibid, 3.

4

Ibid, 24.

5

Ibid, 270.

6

Ibid, 25

26


27

NARVESTAD

In asymmetry, interdependence provides one actor with sources of power. The less dependent state can use this interdependency to affect the other.7 At the moment, the Norwegian-Russian bilateral relationship cannot be described as a situation of pure interdependence. But the notion of different channels of cooperation is relevant to the argument in this paper, and explains the dynamics of the bilateral interdependent cooperation. Also, it is important to take into account how Norway has interdependent relationships with other actors such as the EU and the US. This essay distinguishes global and regional (or local) cooperation. Global cooperation represents the state with interstate global agendas, while regional cooperation is driven by local necessities. Given the absence of a hierarchy of issues and the presence of multiple channels of cooperation according to complex interdependence, local cooperation should not be affected by multilateral decision-making, and therefore not be affected by geopolitical fluctuations in world affairs such as the Ukraine crisis. On the other hand, interactions with a global agenda will be more susceptible to geopolitical fluctuations of the Ukraine crisis.

NORWAY-RUSSIA RELATIONS FROM COLD WAR TO POST-COLD WAR Norway’s membership in NATO sent a clear message to the international community that it was a part of the Western Bloc. Throughout the Cold War, Norway was strategically important to NATO as it was one of the countries that bordered the Soviet Union. The West’s strategy during the Cold War was based on classical geopolitical thought8, to establish a rimland to contain the Soviet Union by a circle of military alliances surrounding the Eurasian Soviet heartland.9 The Kola Peninsula was highly militarized, hosting the Soviet Northern Fleet’s submarine base and missile launch facility. Thus, the Barents Sea was the key access route for Soviet militaries to access the Atlantic.10 Norway, as the sole European Arctic member of NATO, became the far north stronghold containing the Soviet Union. The post-Cold War period gave Norway and Russia opportunities to evolve their Barents Regional cooperation in petroleum, fish exploitation, or combat common threats, such as environmental degradation and accidents at sea. This has been achieved through so called “joint-commissions” in fisheries, nuclear safety, and environmental security.11 According to Hønneland, the overall trend in

7

Ibid, 11.

8

Geir Hønneland and Øyvind Østerud. “Geopolitics and International Governance in the Arctic,” Arctic Review on Law and Politics 5, no. 2 (2014): 172.

9

Ibid.

10

Ibid, 175.

11

Geir Hønneland. “Norsk-Russisk Miljø-og Ressursforvaltning i Nordområdene”. Nordlit 29, no 1. (2012): 80 - 85.


TESTING THE ICE

these joint-commissions is that they became more influential and important after the Cold War.12 Russia and Norway both share the perception of the High North being an area of potential industry and growth. To make the region viable and sustainable, both states are incentivized to equip the region with essential services. Environmental factors do not respect human static borders, and therefore cross border cooperation is necessary. The dream of the Arctic becoming a prosperous region has driven an incentive to solve boundary disputes. A milestone in Norwegian-Russian cooperation was the 2010 Barents Sea Boundary Treaty. The Barents Sea is abundant in fish, gas, and oil with high prospects for exploitation, and thus is important for Norwegian and Russian economies. Approximately 50,000 square nautical miles (10% of the Barents Sea) has been contested between the two states.13 Both governments had ratified the United Nations Convention on Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) in 1996 and 1997,14 and were able to agree on dividing the disputed area in exactly half. The agreement demonstrated how two former Cold War adversaries could cooperate to divide resource abundant areas. Furthermore, the accord outlined a “unitization agreement”, which provides a framework for Russia and Norway to exploit reserves as one entity if the reserve lies on the boundary.15

“NORWAY TURNS FROM NORTH TO WEST”: SANCTIONS AND IMPLICATIONS Sanctions are political tools that can send strong messages to actors in the international community. Norway has a principle of adhering to sanctions from the United Nations Security Council when customary international law is breached. However, since the beginning of the 2000s, Norway has been implementing the EU’s sanction politics despite these not being approved by the UN. Norway is not a member of the EU, but is bound by several agreements such as the European Economic Area (EEA) and the Schengen Agreement. This makes Norway strongly dependent on Europe, and obliged to adhere to Brussels in certain circumstances under the EEA-Agreement. Without following EU sanctions, Norway would have functioned as a loophole in the EU’s strategy, and would have received European pressure.16 In July 2014, Norway implemented EU sanctions on Russia, including freezing economic 12

Ibid, 86.

13

Michael Byers, International Law and the Arctic, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 39.

14

Ibid, 40.

15

Ibid, 46.

16

Ulf Sverdrup. “Norske Sanksjoner?” Norwegian Institute of International Affairs, May 21, 2014. Accessed February 20, 2015.

28


29

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assets, no-entry for designated Russian citizens, and a ban on weapons exports.17 The sanctions also forbid exports of petroleum technology,18 which was significant because of the cooperation between Norwegian oil company Statoil and its Russian partners Gazprom, Lukoil and Rozneft in the Barents Sea. Statoil had to follow the stricter American sanctions, because it is listed on the New York Stock Exchange.19 The Russians are highly dependent on Norwegian offshore technology, which cannot be bought from China.20 The Statoil-Roznef relationship has been especially sensitive to the sanctions from onshore and offshore activity due to an agreement signed in 2013 on joint oil exploration with prospective benefits for both parties.21 Consequently, Norway’s ties to the EU and the US disrupted the oil cooperation in the Arctic, and shows how the ties to other actors can disrupt cooperation. Despite these sanctions, the Russian-Norwegian energy cooperation has continued to a degree. Rozneft and Statoil started their joint oil exploration in the Norwegian sector of the Barents Sea in August 2014.22 This cooperation continued because the sanctions only forbade activity in Russian waters, and not activity in the state implementing the sanctions.23 The Norwegian government has also sold licences for drilling in the Barents Sea to Lukoil in the previously contested area24, thereby showing the government’s willingness to let Russians operate in Norwegian waters despite the Ukraine Crisis. In addition to some of the continued cooperation, Norwegian Prime Minister Erna Solberg has told DagensNæringsliv that “there was room for interpretation of the sanctions”, and that not all energy cooperation would be discontinued. She specified that the terms “Arctic” and “deep water”, in particular, were loosely defined and that Norwegian companies could find loopholes in the agreement.25 This shows an ambivalent approach in Norwegian sanction politics; Norway wants to adhere to international principles through alliances, but realizes that joint oil exploration with Russia is important for its oil companies and the economy. Environmental and sustainability cooperation has also been affected by the Ukraine Crisis. In March 2014, Russian and Norwegian ministers were scheduled to meet in Moscow to discuss environmental cooperation and trade with other members of the European Free Trade Association (EFTA). Norway chose to not send a delegation because of the crisis. Amongst several issues, the 17

The Norwegian Government Office of the Prime Minister. (2014) Norge vil innføre nye restriktive tiltak mot Russland. Accessed February 19, 2015.

18

Norwegian Government Ministry of Justice and Public Security. (2014) Statsråd 10 oktober 2014. Accessed. February 17, 2015.

19

Ånestad et al. “Sanksjoner Skaper Forvirring”. DagensNæringsliv, September 2, 2014. Accessed February 19, 2015.

20

Arild Moe. “Russian Oil – Challenges and Possibilities”. Oxford Energy Forum 97. No. 4 (2014): 19.

21

Atle Staalesen. “Oil ministers shuttle between Russian and Norway”. BarentsObserver, June 13, 2013. Accessed February 18, 2015.

22

Rozneft. Rosneft and Statoil Start Exploration Operations on the Norwegian Continental Shelf in the Barents Sea, August 18, 2014. Accessed February 19, 2015.

23

Ibid,.

24

Atle Staalesen. “Lundin, Lukoil prepare for Barents drilling” BarentsObserver. March 12, 2015. Accessed March 20, 2015.

25

Ånestad et al. “Sanksjoner Skaper Forvirring”. DagensNæringsliv, September 2, 2014. Accessed February 19, 2015.


TESTING THE ICE

meeting was going to concern emissions from Pechenganikel and the signing of a memorandum of understanding on joint polar bear counting.26 During the autumn of 2014, Norwegian and Russian researchers and scientists executed a mission to investigate whether a sunken nuclear submarine was leaking radiation. This was planned and organized by the Joint Environmental Commission.27 The meeting in Russia was a ministers’ meeting with other allied states, while the nuclear investigation was managed by the Joint Commission limited to local aims. The multilateral ministers’ meeting was cancelled because of the Norwegian government’s principle of solidarity with other EFTA states towards the Ukraine Crisis. The investigation in the Barents Sea was controlled by joint-commissions, which deal with exclusive bilateral cooperation. Therefore, a dual reaction prevails in environmental cooperation because of the different channels dealing with the issue.

“THE FOG OF UKRAINE”: DISCONTINUED MILITARY EXERCISES AND THE COAST GUARD COOPERATION As military tensions receded after the Cold War, the Norwegian and the Russian Armed Forces increased their cooperation in different activities. The most notable are the joint Coast Guard cooperation and the joint military exercises with armed units. Even the militaries have not responded to the Ukraine Crisis with a coherent policy. Despite flexing muscles on each side of the border, military cooperation still takes place through the Coast Guard. Norway and Russia have in the past launched joint-military exercises. Exercise Pomor between Russia and Norway stresses cooperation against counterterrorism and anti-piracy in the Barents Sea, and has been held annually since 1994. Exercise North Eagle was initially a bilateral Arctic military exercise between the U.S and Russia held every four years since 2004, and Norway joined in 2008 and 2012.28/29 Nevertheless, the Norwegian government chose to suspend “all scheduled bilateral military activities” with Russia due to the “illegal annexation of Crimea”.30 As a consequence of this policy the bilateral exercise Pomor was cancelled31,32, along with multilateral exercise Northern Eagle.33 Military exercises are not exclusively bilateral and local. Northern Eagle included the U.S and therefore 26

Alf Ole Ask. “Norge utsetter miljømøte og handelsavtale med Russland”. Aftenposten, March 19, 2014. Accessed March 17, 2015.

27

The Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs. (2014) NordKloden. (Oslo: Det kgl. utenriksdepartement), 61.

28

The Norwegian Government. (2015) Norway suspends bilateral military activities with Russia in 2015. Accessed March 13, 2015.

29

Norwegian Armed Forces. (2015) Pomor. Accessed March 13, 2015.

30

The Norwegian Government. (2014) Norway suspends all planned military activity with Russia. Accessed March 13, 2015.

31

The Norwegian Government. (2015) Norway suspends bilateral military activities with Russia in 2015. Accessed March 13, 2015.

32

Norwegian Armed Forces. (2015) Pomor. Accessed March 13, 2015.

33

Norwegian Armed Forces. (2015) Northern Eagle. Accessed March 13, 2015.

30


31

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this cooperation becomes multilateral, which means Norway was obliged to discontinue its military cooperation. In March 2015, the Norwegian Armed Forces held a military exercise, Joint Viking, in Finnmark. It was the largest unilateral exercise in the Norwegian Arctic since 1967, with over 5,000 soldiers participating.34 Simultaneously, the Russians held a naval military exercise in the Russian high north.35 This stirred a bit of controversy in the Norwegian media, because Russia had not informed Norwegian authorities about the exercise. According to the Vienna Document, states are supposed to inform other states about exercises concerning land and air forces,36 but because it was a naval exercise the Russians were exempt from doing so. Still, the unexpected exercise worried Norwegian authorities. However, even the military has not responded to the Ukraine crisis coherently, as is exemplified through the Joint Coast Guard Cooperation. The Joint Coast Guard cooperation is the most unique aspect of the military cooperation. It is constructed on nuances of cooperation, which include control over fisheries, search and rescue, and oil recovery operations. Under the Norwegian Coast Guard Act of 1997, the Coast Guard is given police authority to deal with civilian threats.37 The cooperation can be traced back to the Cold War when Norway and the Soviet Union signed agreements in the 1970s relating to the Joint Fisheries Commission. This agreement gave the parties rights to inspect the vessels of the other party to the agreement as long as the vessel was in the economic zone of the state carrying out the inspection.38 In the post-Cold War period this cooperation evolved progressively with several new agreements: The Memorandum on Cooperation Arrangements for Control in 2000, and additional protocols in 2005 and 2008. These agreements specified information sharing, meeting schedules, and inspector exchanges39. The Search-and-Rescue aspect of the cooperation improved and was formally accepted in 1979 through the International Convention on Maritime Search and Rescue (SAR). The agreement for the Barents Sea (based on the international agreement), specified responsibilities, communications, exercises, and access to waters and airspace40. The Oil Recovery Operations Agreement was signed in 1994. Similar to the previous agreements, it emphasized details on communications, joint action response and joint exercises organized by the Barents Regional Council. 34

Norwegian Armed Forces. (2015) Joint Viking. Accessed March 13, 2015.

35

Aslak Ballari and Robert Greiner. “Kan være Putin som ønsker å svare Norge”. Norwegian Broadcasting Corporations, March 16, 2015. Accessed March 21, 2015.

36

Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe. “Vienna Document 2011”. Reissued according to the Forum for Security Co-operation Decision on Reissuing the Vienna Document (FSC.DEC/14/11) adopted at the 665th Special Meeting the OSCE Forum for Security Co-operation in Vienna on November 30, 2011

37

Svein Kosmo. (2010). “Kystvaktsamarbeidet Norge-Russland: En forsettelse av politikken med andre midler?”, (Unpublished Masters diss., Forsvarets stabsskole, Oslo), 23.

38

Ibid.,

39

Kosmo, “Kystvaktsamarbeidet Norge-Russland”, 24.

40

Ibid,.


TESTING THE ICE

The Coast Guard cooperation outlined above has not been affected by the Norwegian government’s decision to discontinue “all bilateral military activities”. There is regular communication between the Norwegian and Russian Coast Guards, and in March 2015 they launched their annual Joint Coast Guard exercise Barents 2015.41 The Coast Guard cooperation is bilateral and is exclusive to Norway and Russia in the Barents, meaning it is driven by local agendas and does not need to respond to international solidarity. From this we can glean a dual response in the military domain. The government elite responded by discontinuing cooperation. Norway has incentive to react because of its vital cooperation with NATO in other fields, such as terrorism. It is worth considering that former Norwegian Prime Minister Jens Stoltenberg was appointed as the new Secretary General of NATO during the crisis (October 2014).42 Therefore, Norway feels pressure to take a stance on Ukraine in solidarity with the rest of NATO. Simultaneously, the Coast Guard cooperation continues because of its importance to maintaining security in the region, and because it is linked to local civilian issues.

“THE UNTOUCHED BORDERLANDS”: THE BARENTS REGION AND PEOPLE-TO-PEOPLE INITIATIVES The Barents Cooperation was initiated by the Kirkenes Declaration in 1993. This established an institutional body with two levels. The Barents Euro-Arctic Council (BEAC) would be a platform for the national governments of Norway, Russia, Finland and Sweden while the Barents Regional Council (BRC) consists of counties and oblasts of the Barents region, along with representatives from the indigenous communities (mostly Samii). Created in the euphoria at the end of the Cold War, its aim is to improve relations across the previous East-West divide in the Barents Region through industry, business and culture.43 The spectrum of cooperation ranges from environmental protection, industry, infrastructure, health care, tourism, border crossings, visas, science, and indigenous exchanges. Despite the serious events in Ukraine, the regional institutional cooperation has remained unchanged.44 The Norwegian government has chosen to continue the local channel of communication and enhance dialogue with Russia. The Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs chose to allocate $20 million to the Barents Secretariat for the period 2015 – 2017, which is an increase of $2.5 million from the last budget for 2011 – 2014.45 At a Conference in Kirkenes in February 2015, Russia and Norway decided 41

Trude Pettersen. “Norway and Russia join forces in Arctic response drill”. BarentsObserver, March 10, 2015. Accessed March 17, 2015.

42

North Atlantic Treaty Organization. (2014) “NATO Secretaries General”. Accessed March 23, 2015.

43

Geir Hønneland, Borderland Russians: Identity, Narrative and International Relations, (New York, Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), 37.

44

Jan-Gunnar Winther. “Ukraina-krisen”. Norsk Polarinstitutt , November 16, 2014. Accessed 14 Feb 2015.

45

The Norwegian Barents Secretariat. “Regjeringen øker støtten til Barentssamarbeidet”. February 2, 2015. Accessed February 15, 2015.

32


33

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to continue improving cross-border conditions, work permits, and local cross-border shopping.46 Norwegian State Secretary for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Bård Glad Pedersen reported that the Norwegian government is cooperating with Russian authorities “on other levels and by other means.” 47

He stressed the importance of continuing “pragmatic people-to-people cooperation…in areas

of common interest…including management of fisheries and environmental issues”, in light of the Ukraine Crisis.48 There has also been opposition to the sanctions within the region. In the Norwegian town of Kirkenes, also known as “Little Murmansk” because of its close ties to the city across the border, almost every institution in Kirkenes has a Russian partner, whether it be a hospital, school or local business.49 Northern Norwegian businesses have asked the government to abandon the sanctions because the policy is damaging the local trade in the Barents Region. The sanctions on exporting fish caused one company, Kirkenes Trading, to consider declaring bankruptcy.50 The trading in the Barents region goes back in history to the Pomor trade, and is sensible because of the close proximity between the cities. In the beginning of March 2015, diplomats from the Norwegian and Russian Ministries of Foreign Affairs, representatives from oil companies Total, Statoil, Rozneft, and representatives from the Moscow State Institute of International Relations and University of Nordland met to discuss enhancing student exchanges between the two states. Both states (and oil companies) realize that bridging culture and language gaps between these people is key for future cooperation in seismic oil exploitation in the Barents Region.51 Researchers have also stressed the importance of continued cooperation. Norway and Russia conduct bilateral research in numerous fields including petroleum, nuclear technology, seismic, oceanology and other Arctic related fields. A report from the Norwegian Research Council from September 2014 concluded that collaborating with Russian scientists was essential to continuing fruitful research and working towards common Arctic goals.52 Human interaction should not be undervalued, as the bridging of cultural gaps can establish a framework for cooperation in the future. This is also cooperation that does not require international solidarity for Ukraine, and is exclusive to the regional partnership.

46

Atle Staalesen. “Norway Russia Committed Barents Cooperation Despite Divisions over Ukraine”. AlaskaNews, February 10, 2015. Accessed. February 21 2015.

47

Eliese Laustsen. “Sanksjonene mot Russland, Slik beholder Norge forholdet til Russland” DagensNæringsliv, August 21, 2014. Accessed 13 March 2015.

48

Laustsen. “Sanksjonene mot Russland”.

49

Natalia Golysheva. “Ukraine crisis spells Arctic freeze in Russia-Norway ties”. BBC, October 4, 2015. Accessed 21 March 2015.

50

Rune Ytreberg. “Dropp Boikotten av Russland”. DagensNærignsliv, February 4, 2015. Accessed. February 17, 2015.

51

Stein Sneve. “Boikott hindrer ikke norsk-russisk samarbeid i nord”. AvisaNordland. January 15, 2015. Accessed February 12, 2015.

52

Norwegian Research Council (2014) “Veikart for bilateralt forskningssamarbeid: Forskningssamarbeid med Russland”, (Oslo, Forskningsrådet), 9.


TESTING THE ICE

“GLOBAL VS. LOCAL”: ANALYSIS OF THE REGIONAL AND GLOBAL CHANNELS A state’s foreign policy is influenced by a myriad of factors including domestic politics, internal issues, culture, demographics, balances of power as well as external issues and threats. The challenge is to balance these variables to shape an ideal foreign policy. Norway’s response to Russia in light of the Ukraine Crisis demonstrates the complexity of factors and opinions that make up the duality of its policy. The realist notion that the state is the sole key political actor loses its merit through the lens of complex interdependence, which prescribes a prism of channels to cooperation. Keohane and Nye’s concept breaks down the traditional view that international relations can only be examined through looking at the interaction between governments and other state elites. Their concept demonstrates the complex situation in Norwegian-Russian affairs, and prescribes a sobering framework to analyze the current state of affairs. In this analysis the channels of cooperation are divided into “global” and “local”. “Local” describes the channels that exclusively concern regional cooperation in Norway and Russia. “Global” concerns Norwegian-Russian relations at a multilateral state level where Norway has an interest in maintaining solidarity with its allies. The “global” channel of cooperation in the High North has been significantly affected by the Ukraine Crisis. The Norwegian government implemented EU sanctions, suspended formal military ties and even boycotted a multilateral meeting on environmental issues. This discontinued petroleum partnership, military exercises, and environmental cooperation. Global forces of solidarity and alliances with the EU and NATO drove it to pursue these policies. The “local” channel of the High North is less reactionary to the Ukraine Crisis. The BEAR and BRC continues its cooperation and the Norwegian government chose to allocate more resources to this area of cooperation. Concurrently, military coast guard cooperation has continued. These channels deal with issues that are exclusive bilateral relations between Norway and Russia, therefore cooperation is not required to follow the global driving forces of solidarity to Ukraine. The 2008 Russian invasion of Georgia can be compared as a similar geopolitical event to the Ukraine crisis. During this crisis a pattern of events similar to the current crisis occurred. All NATO cooperation with Russia was discontinued while regional Barents cooperation and the Coast Guard cooperation continued untouched by tensions.53 The local cooperation was too valuable for both parties to let the cooperation be influenced by the war in South-Ossetia. This supports the hypothesis that local 53

Kosmo, “Kystvaktsamarbeidet”, 45.

34


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cooperation is not influenced by external geopolitical events due to the actors having local interests. Conversely global cooperation, as far as NATO is concerned, reacts to aggressions because of principles of multilateral action.

CONCLUSION The Ukraine Crisis’ ripple effect did not reach the local channels of cooperation in the High North. The continued Barents Regional cooperation as well as Coast Guard activities confirm this. However, the Arctic is not immune from global politics, as demonstrated by the Norwegian government and military elite following the West’s sanctions and breaking formal ties at the governmental level. The lesson gleaned from this is that the actors on a global scale, states, respond to fluctuations in geopolitics, while regional elites, commissions, and people-to-people organizations are more resistant to respond to global events. The difference between these channels is firstly, that they have different goals and secondly, that local initiatives are exclusive bilateral concerns that do not concern other states. The 1970s buzzword “globalization” describes the process of barrier breaking between closeto-home interests and global issues. The evidence presented in this essay has challenged this notion by demonstrating how local cooperation does not fall victim to global paradigms. The reluctance to adhere to Cold War divides in the local region of Norway and Russia demonstrates that the Barents Region has come far with its local post-Cold War regionalization project. That the Ukraine Crisis had been reminiscent of Cold War tensions has been the perfect test for post-Cold War cooperation in the icy regions of the High North.


TESTING THE ICE

36


37

D’SOUZA

Lessons from Afghanistan

SECURITY FORCE CAPACITY BUILDING AND THE CANADIAN ARMED FORCES JULIAN D’SOUZA

The invasion and occupation of Afghanistan following the terrorist attacks of September 11th is a subject which has been extensively studied as an example of the future of warfare. The occupation forced Western militaries to modify the way they interpret, approach, and participate in increasingly complex asymmetrical conflicts. For the Canadian Armed Forces it was certainly significant because it was their largest engagement abroad and first full-fledged counterinsurgency operation. Consequently, the occupation of Afghanistan has been closely scrutinized by military professionals, academics, and individuals in the public sphere, and has changed the way Canadians perceive their military and its role abroad. Complex counterterrorist operations, coupled with the toppling of host regimes and subsequent violent insurgencies, may be the future of conflict-a future in which the enemy wears no uniform and the certainty of victory is nonexistent. Certainly many critics have pointed to the invasion and occupation of Afghanistan by the United States of America and its allies as a failure, and based on the state of affairs in Afghanistan today, it would be hard to discredit these criticisms. However, the purpose of this essay is not to discuss the success nor failure of the mission in Afghanistan as a whole. Rather, this essay analyzes the counterinsurgency (COIN) efforts of the Canadian Armed Forces (CAF) in Kandahar province from 2006 to 2011 in an attempt to uncover worthwhile lessons which can be applied to future military engagements of a similar nature. This essay will yield a study of some of the relative successes of the CAF, in the face of what some might otherwise deem a failure. This will be done by first describing the characteristics of an insurgency and the conditions under which insurgencies are likely to arise. Building upon this foundation, Canadian counterinsurgency doctrines will be examined to understand Canada’s ‘3D’ and


LESSONS FROM AFGHANISTAN

‘Whole of Government’ approaches to fighting insurgencies. Next, an examination of the CAF’s role in employing these approaches will provide practical context to the theories discussed. From these examinations the importance of training indigenous security forces will be analyzed, and in conclusion I argue for greater emphasis on Security Force Capability Building (SFCB) during CAF training and engagement. Consequently, I will argue that Canada’s Armed Forces should adapt to 21st century COIN wars by emphasizing their own ability to train others, which provides Canada with a valuable opportunity to assert its military power in a way that promotes conflict resolution.

INSURGENCIES AND COUNTERINSURGENCY OPERATIONS In 2008, the Canadian Department of National Defence released a document called ‘B-GL-323-004/FP-003 Counter-Insurgency Operations’, hereafter referred to as ‘the COIN doctrine.’1 Similar to the U.S. Field Manual 3-24, the COIN doctrine laid out the basics of insurgencies and counterinsurgency operations, providing overarching guidelines for the formulation and execution of COIN operations. The beginning of the doctrine claims that “it is highly likely that future operations will also be characterised by the requirement to continue to conduct counter-insurgency operations,” a clear indication that the CAF considers COIN operations to be a matter of importance.2 The COIN doctrine further defines insurgency as “An uprising or insurrection against an established form of authority, normally a government, occupying authority, or social structure. Various situations may give rise to an insurgency, and a single insurgency may have several root and contributing causes… Many insurgencies will develop in failed or failing states where the governments have failed to address or satisfy the needs of their populace… [which] in general will include the basic essentials of stable life, responsible government, religious freedom and economic viability.”3 1

Chief of the Land Staff, “Counter-Insurgency Operations (English) (B-GL-323-004/FP-003),” (Department of National Defence, Ottawa, ON, 2008), xx.

2

Dept. of National Defence, “Counter-Insurgency Operations,” 1.

3

Ibid., 11.

38


39

D’SOUZA

Eric Jardine and Simon Palamar argue that the goal of insurgencies is to control territory and undermine the legitimacy of the state while increasing the insurgents’ own legitimacy.4 As such popular support is critical to the success of an insurgent group’s continued rebellion. Insurgencies are fundamentally political organizations which, in rebelling against a given authority, aim to delegitimize said authority’s control over a region and establish their own autonomous territory, a desire which requires the support of the local population. This understanding of the necessity of popular support has led to the persistent emphasis on a ‘holistic approach’ to counterinsurgency because an insurgency will survive so long as the population it draws support from continues to be disaffected or marginalized by poor living conditions and weak governance. According to the COIN doctrine the holistic approach involves “military, paramilitary, political, economic, psychological and civil actions… the military plays but one part of a COIN campaign that will involve a wide variety of other government and non-government agencies.”5 Jardine and Palmar explain that “a core precept of contemporary counterinsurgency is that a campaign is either won or lost by how well counterinsurgents provide order and security for the population.”6 This point aligns with the COIN doctrine which states that the primary role of the military is to provide security for political initiatives to begin long-term solutions meant to address the root causes of the insurgency in question.7 This is emphasized by the doctrine’s repeated use of the phrase “primary strategic centre of gravity” when referring to the civilian populace.8 These holistic approaches to COIN are embodied in the rhetoric employed by Canadian officials, who refer to a ‘Whole of Government’ approach consisting of the ‘3Ds’: defense, diplomacy, and development. Together, these approaches advocate for cooperation between the Department of National Defence, governmental branches, 4

Eric Jardine and Simon Palamar, “From Medusa Past Kantolo: Testing the Effectiveness of Canada’s Enemy-Centric and Population-Centric Counterinsurgency Operational Strategies,” Studies in Conflict & Terrorism 36 no. 7 (2013), 590.

5

Dept. of National Defence, “Counter-Insurgency Operations,” 14.

6

Jardine and Palamar, “From Medusa Past Kantolo,” 590.

7

Dept. of National Defence, “Counter-Insurgency Operations,” 14.

8

Ibid.


LESSONS FROM AFGHANISTAN

such as the Department of Global Affairs, and governmental organizations, such as the Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS) and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP). Cooperation among organizations forms “a multi-pronged, multiagency approach at the strategic operational and tactical levels,” and could further be compounded by the inclusion of non-governmental and intergovernmental organizations.9 Collectively, this network of agencies and organizations is intended to address the multi-faceted causes and symptoms of insurgencies. As previously noted, in order for non-military agencies to function effectively, a reasonable level of security must be established and maintained. Additionally, the local populace must feel secure enough to legitimize their own government and the COIN forces assisting the host government. As summarized by Jardine and Palamer, “the counterinsurgency needs to provide security simply because the population demands it in return for their support of the regime… A secure environment also matters indirectly because it is needed for economic development and political programs to do work.”10 By establishing a base level of security in the host country, military COIN efforts can act as a force multiplier for their non-military counterparts. Without the establishment of security it is impossible to begin to win the hearts and minds of the local population-‘the strategic centre of gravity’-in any COIN mission. With this foundational knowledge in mind, this essay will proceed to examine Canada’s experience in Afghanistan and the lessons learned for future COIN operations.

CANADA IN AFGHANISTAN: COUNTERINSURGENCY SUCCESSES AND PITFALLS In the case of Afghanistan, Dr. Lee Windsor offers a useful study of the experience of the Royal Canadian Infantry Corps in Kandahar during Operation ATHENA II (2006-2011). Exemplifying the complexities of the occupation of Afghanistan, Windsor points out that “Canadian infantry soldiers served at once as 9

Ibid., 15

10

Jardine and Palamar, “From Medusa Past Kantolo,” 591.

40


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D’SOUZA

fighting soldiers, nation builders, and diplomats,” to help secure what was arguably the most dangerous province in Afghanistan.11 Based on ATHENA II it was evident that Canadian infantry had proved themselves to be capable, skilled soldiers with the capacity to undertake differentiated and diverse roles.12 Infantry training was found to be effective, insofar as “fundamental skills and functions remained timeless and adapted well to the evolving mission.”13 In the context of warfighting, David Bercuson and J. L. Granatstein found that the establishment of the Canadian Manoeuvre Training Centre (CMTC) was a highly worthwhile exercise in preparing troops for Afghanistan, particularly in the continued adaptation of training exercises to real-life operations. As the performance of Canadian troops progressively improved on the battlefields of Kandahar, the CMTC quickly developed a reputation as a top-calibre training centre.14 In ATHENA II, and other missions in Afghanistan, the Royal Canadian Infantry Corps proved itself to be a capable and effective force in offensive counterinsurgency operations. While Canadian troops were effective in their abilities to operate in combat, the argument has already been made that military efforts alone are not sufficient to defeat an insurgency. The study by Jardine and Palamar compares two phases of Canadian involvement in Kandahar, Task Force Orion and Op KANTOLO, to illuminate how different military efforts yielded different rates of success. Task Force Orion was an enemy-centric offensive mission which aimed to create a secure environment for the population and eliminate the insurgents’ challenge to state authority by directly pursuing and combating Taliban forces.15 However in studying Canada’s enemy-centric counterinsurgency operation, the authors found that it “failed in two respects: first it failed to produce a controlled and secure environment for the population… Second, it is possible that the initial operational strategy actually made matters worse by swelling the ranks of the insurgency with disaffected members 11

Lee Windsor, “An Introduction to Canada’s Experience During Operation Athena Phase II,” Canadian Army Journal 15, no. 2 (2013): 15.

12

Ibid., 16.

13

Ibid., 18.

14

David J. Bercuson, and J.L. Granatstein, “Lessons Learned? What Canada Should Learn from Afghanistan,” (Canadian Defence & Foreign Affairs Institute, Calgary, AB. 2011), 19.

15

Jardine and Palamar, “From Medusa Past Kantolo,” 592.


LESSONS FROM AFGHANISTAN

of the local population.”16 In contrast, a population-centric approach attempts to directly secure the population and deter insurgents from “targeting civilians by providing a visible and consistent counterinsurgent presence near major population centers, rather than conducting lengthy search-and-destroy missions.”17 This was put into practice during Op KANTOLO whose “main objective was to retrench the Canadian and ISAF [International Security Assistance Force] forces in and around Kandahar City in order to win the support of the people by providing a controlled and secure environment to the civilian population and through security provision and targeted development efforts.”18 Jardine and Palamar found that the populationcentric strategy was more successful than the enemy-centric strategy at producing a “controlled and secure environment for civilians,” and consequently had distinct advantages over simply killing the insurgents.19 To some degree the necessity of coalescing enemy- and population-centric approaches was reflected in Canada’s multi-faceted efforts to combat the Taliban while rebuilding Kandahar. Windsor notes that ATHENA II was the first test of the “three-block war” and the “strategic corporal,” which promoted a soldier who simultaneously played the parts of a warrior, diplomat, and nation-builder.20 This complexity is further evident through the four distinct roles and teams that Canadian infantry were divided into: combat and security, force protection, Provincial Reconstruction Teams (PRT), and Operational Mentoring and Liaison Teams (OMLT). Interviews with returning Afghanistan veterans who participated in ATHENA II shed further light on Canadian efforts. From the beginning of their deployment, infantry were briefed that military force alone would not bring stability to Afghanistan, and that they were to establish sufficient security for other governmental, non-governmental, and international organizations to assist Afghans in rebuilding their country instead. Soon after the campaign began, it became clear that protecting reconstruction efforts in Kandahar province from the Taliban was still 16

Ibid.

17

Ibid.

18

Ibid., 597.

19

Jardine and Palamar, “From Medusa Past Kantolo,” 604.

20

Windsor, “Canada’s Experience During Operation Athena,” 16.

42


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too large a task for a single Canadian battle group. Similarly, Jardine and Palamar note that the size of the Canadian battle group was, amongst other issues, a significant detractor to the absolute success of the mission.21 With the US shifting its focus to the war in Iraq, the Canadian infantry in Afghanistan were tasked with increasingly more burdens amidst a backdrop of Taliban resurgence in the province.22

CANADA IN AFGHANISTAN: TRAINING INDIGENOUS AFGHAN FORCES To substantiate coalition forces and ensure the longevity of COIN efforts in Afghanistan, efforts were made throughout the occupation to develop and strengthen indigenous Afghan security forces, notably the Afghan National Army (ANA) and Afghan National Police (ANP). Windsor found that the Canadian Operational Mentoring and Liaison Teams (OMLT) were under “unique pressure to master abilities such as core infantry skills, directing supporting arms, and cultural awareness,” skills which were most salient when teaching indigenous forces.23 However, it was also found that, “unique pre-deployment training for OMLTs was lacking from the time the first ones were formed in 2006 right up to the summer of 2010 as the last teams prepared to deploy.”24 Compared to Bercuson and Granatstein’s high praise for the adaptability of the CMTC, Windsor is critical of OMLT training as being relatively static throughout ATHENA.25 This could indicate a concerning devaluation of an essential tenet to COIN nation building-the training of local forces, which Wentzel calls “a key element of counterinsurgency operations.”26 Accordingly Canadian Forces must continue to strengthen and develop their capacity to train foreign forces as an essential function of all counterinsurgency and state-building operations. Indigenous security actors offer many long-term benefits, such as stability and legitimacy, that help achieve the overarching goals of counterinsurgency strategy. 21

Jardine and Palamar, “From Medusa Past Kantolo,” 604.

22

Windsor, “Canada’s Experience During Operation Athena,” 18.

23

Ibid., 22.

24

Ibid., 29.

25

Bercuson and Granatstein, “Lessons Learned?” 19; Windsor, “Canada’s Experience During Operation Athena,” 29.

26

Tyler Wentzell, “Security Force Capacity Building: Local Ownership Versus Human Capital,” Canadian Military Journal 12 no. 1 (2011), 15; Windsor, “Canada’s Experience During Operation Athena,” 29.


LESSONS FROM AFGHANISTAN

SECURITY FORCE CAPACITY BUILDING AND THE FUTURE OF THE CAF In “Unconventional Warfare,” Tony Balasevicius critiques the Department of National Defence’s concept of the Adaptive Dispersed Operations (ADO) which argues for agile, multi-purpose, and full-spectrum capable forces that can operate effectively while dispersed throughout the battlefield.27 He argues that the ADO concept may not be sufficiently robust to combat a sophisticated enemy with a large, well-organized military, particularly if the organization using ADO has a limited number of forces at its disposal. Based on experiences during Op ATHENA II it should be evident that the Taliban insurgents, while hardly sophisticated, were both motivated and resilient, and posed a significant challenge to Canadian forces. This challenge was amplified by the comparatively small and limited number of Canadian troops. Balasevicius introduces the concept of compound warfare, “the simultaneous use of conventional and irregular forces against an enemy.”28 Due to their local nature, indigenous troops offer significant advantages, such as superior intelligence and the ability to garner nature support and resources. Their specific use within combined warfare is referred to as unconventional warfare (UW), which “can be defined as the ability to organize, train, equip, advise, and assist indigenous and surrogate forces in military and paramilitary operations.”29 In a context more specific to Canadian counterinsurgency, the COIN doctrine notes: Indigenous police forces may play a valuable role in the conduct of a COIN mission and will be a key element in a comprehensive approach… the presence of police forces, particularly if seen to be leading operations, will have a normalizing effect on the population... indigenous [military] forces should be seen, to the greatest extent possible, to be leading missions against the insurgents. This will indicate an attempt at a local solution to the insurgency and add legitimacy to the overall campaign… The training and development of indigenous forces will be a key part of security sector reform.30 27

Tony Balasevicius, “Unconventional Warfare,” Canadian Military Journal 9, no. 4 (2009), 30-40.

28

Ibid., 32.

29

Ibid.

30

Dept. of National Defence, “Counter-Insurgency Operations,” 32-33.

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In turn, Peter J. Williams argues for a more proactive approach to their use, going so far as to suggest that the Canada First Defense Strategy should be amended to “deploy capacity building forces in advance of a crisis overseas.”31 He argues that this is essentially a cost-saving mechanism which allows for small-footprint deployments, which may mitigate conflict far more efficiently than more costly military interventions.32 J. Paul de B. Taillon adds: The employment of [Canadian forces] as training a training asset to assist friendly nations would ensure high-quality training while concomitantly extending and leveraging Canadian foreign policy interests and influence abroad. In addition, [CF] initiatives, while requiring a relatively small outlay in personnel and material, would contribute strategically to nation building, democratization and regime stabilization in nascent democracies, while strengthening Canadian relations and influence in regions needing training assistance.33 Regardless of whether or not it holds value in retrospect, as was the case in Kandahar, or prospective value, as is the case in future conflict, it is clear that the CAF’s ability to conduct Security Force Capacity Building (SFCB) is one which should be emphasized in future military affairs. In order to better understand the complexities of SFCB operations, this essay will review existing literature on the practice and its various forms before concluding with suggestions on how the CAF can best incorporate this tactic into future deployments. In “Security Force Capacity Building,” Tyler Wentzell describes five force development models focused on human capital and its relationship with local leadership.34 The first is leadership, in which the host nation or indigenous forces provides the majority of the manpower, but the intervener provides leadership to 31

Peter J. Williams, “Being ‘Left of Bang,’ or Proactive: The Future Place of Capacity Building in the Department of National Defence and the Canadian Armed Forces,” Canadian Military Journal 15, no. 2 (2015), 21.

32

Ibid., 21.

33

J. Paul de B. Taillon, “Canadian Special Operations Forces: Transforming Paradigms,” Canadian Military Journal 6, no. 4 (2006), 68.

34

Tyler Wentzell, “Security Force Capacity Building: Local Ownership Versus Human Capital,” Canadian Military Journal 12 no. 1 (2011): 15-23.


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command and control the forces. Second is the apprenticeship model, where the host nation again provides the majority of the manpower, however, the intervener develops and trains the indigenous forces and their leaders with the intention of surrendering control of the organization once it is deemed ready. Third is partnership, in which a unit shares an area with a host nation security force. This was the prevailing approach in both Afghanistan and Iraq. The approach is complicated by the necessity of unity of command which dictates that either the intervening leadership or host leadership must take final authority. Fourth is mentorship, in which intervening mentors, most often a team comprised of specialized trainers or advisors, will participate in operations with a unit of indigenous forces, mentoring their leaders and increasing their human capital. Finally, technical support and training is a model in which an individual specialist or a team provide indigenous forces with training and instruction, but, for the most part, do not actively participate in operations. These ideal types should be employed in a flexible manner that reflects the context of the indigenous forces’ pre-existing capabilities and human capital.35 In doing so the intervening or advising force can most effectively build the capacity of the host security force. Given that a number of models for Strategic Force Capacity Building are known, which team within the Canadian Armed Forces should supply such training? Balasevicius suggests using Special Operations Forces (SOF) to train and equip indigenous forces, and notes that in the context of Afghanistan, “they proved they have the ability to adapt quickly to changing circumstances… [U.S.] SOF teams were able to successfully rally unorganized and rival anti-Taliban opposition within the country to focus a northern alliance, which defeated Taliban forces.”36 He goes on to argue that Canadian Special Operations Forces Command (CANSOFCOM) should develop the capability of working in a theatre of unconventional warfare, which requires a “major cultural shift for both the Army and CANSOFCOM.”37 It seems likely that this has already occurred to some degree, as CAF member Williams 35

Ibid., 21.

36

Balasevicius, “Unconventional Warfare,” 35.

37

Ibid., 37.

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notes that “having spent a year in a capacity-building capacity in Afghanistan, perhaps the greatest lesson I took away from the work of our team was that it was our grounding in having trained for combat throughout our careers that made us successful as advisors.”38 While current Canadian SOF have shown the capacity to effectively train indigenous forces, more can be done at the strategic level to increase the capacity of the SOF in future SFCB missions. In an article intended to review the transformation of Canadian SOF, Taillon argues that “tact and persuasive skills are also important for those involved in advising and training foreign militaries. Those not sensitive to the socio-cultural milieu in which they are operating will hold little local influence over foreign officers and their NCOS…”39 Balasevicius agrees, arguing that “the importance of language training for the UW specialist cannot be overstated, as the benefits of speaking a native language [are] clearly evident…”40 Combined with cultural training, the two skillsets ensure that deployed forces are less likely to alienate the indigenous population. Taillon suggests ‘talent spotting’ to directly recruit second-generation Canadians from various ethnic groups in the hopes that they are predisposed to language and cultural sensitivity.41 He further suggests selecting Canadians born in other multiethnic countries capable of providing similarly valuable language skills and cultural sensitivity skills. Finally, he suggests talent spotting “university-level students studying languages of operational interests,” in order to assess their value to CANSOF SFCB operations.42 Regardless of where candidates are drawn he states that they must be adaptable to foreign environments, as “those who are capable will garner the respect of the locals, and develop useful personal relationships while expediting the mission.”43 CANSOF SFCB operators should be proficient in language skills and cultural sensitivity, so as to ensure their effectiveness in theatre. Finally, Williams argues that the “CAF doctrine will need to place more emphasis 38

Williams, “Being ‘Left of Bang,’” 23.

39

Taillon, “Canadian Special Operations Forces,” 67.

40

Balasevicius, “Unconventional Warfare,” 36.

41

Taillon, “Canadian Special Operations Forces,” 69.

42

Ibid.

43

Ibid.


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upon capacity building, a gap which currently exists in our military literature.”44 This issue could be addressed by creating a Department of National Defence doctrinal publication similar to the COIN doctrine repeatedly cited throughout this paper. Said SFCB doctrine should be based on the Canadian experiences in Afghanistan and should also draw from American experiences with Security Sector Reform (SSR). Williams also suggests employing the expertise of retired generals, flag officers, and retired senior civil servants with strategic defense experience, as these figures have years of practice and may also be granted greater respect in cultures which value the wisdom of elders particularly when advising high level technocrats and politicians.45 In time, SFCB should be further integrated into infantry institutions, reflecting the substantial necessity of training capabilities for a middle-power state such as Canada. However, in the increasingly complex contemporary intrastate conflicts, the Forces must be cautious in their integration and application of SFCB operations. Shifting allegiances and volatile political landscapes in conflicted regions require the CAF to be highly selective, particularly if and when they train non-state actors, although governmental forces are certainly not guaranteed successes either. Language skills and cultural sensitivity can only do so much, and ‘green-on-green’ attacks, in which the trainee attacks the trainer, will likely continue to arise in future COIN operations. Security Force Capacity Building is a challenging practice and the Forces must continually evaluate their efforts at applying it, such as Op ATTENTION (2011-2014) in Afghanistan and Op IMPACT (2014-2016) in Iraq. It is unlikely that the practice will ever be a ‘safe deployment,’ and the Canadian public must be made sufficiently aware of this whenever the CAF is deployed on an SFCB operation. By pursuing a cautious and adaptive approach to security force capacity building, the Canadian Armed Forces can ensure a more effective and holistic engagement in future COIN operations.

44

Williams, “Being ‘Left of Bang,’” 22.

45

Ibid.

48


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CONCLUSION Canada’s experience in Afghanistan and the opinion of government officials and academics alike indicate that the CAF should, to some degree, focus on preparing for future counterinsurgency operations. These operations should be characterized by a holistic approach to defense, diplomacy, and development, with the aim of addressing the root causes that sustain violent insurgencies in weak or failing states. In this context, population-centric approaches to COIN appear to be more effective than enemy-centric approaches, in turn necessitating the practice of Strategic Force Capacity Building to substantiate limited numbers of Canadian troops. Herein lies an opportunity for Canada to further develop its Special Operations Forces, who are able to deploy into existing or potential conflict zones and effectively counsel indigenous forces through a number of methods, assisted by an emphasised proficiency in language skills and cultural sensitivity. Finally, Canada must create an SFCB doctrinal publication to guide these operations, while expanding high level networks of military and government officials whose experience will pay greater dividends in providing high-level advice to the host government. By engaging with these lessons from Afghanistan and funneling them into constructive output, Canada can continue to actively pursue conflict resolution in the international arena, establishing norms of Canadian military leadership and peace promotion abroad.


LESSONS FROM AFGHANISTAN

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More than Feasible

THE MISMANAGEMENT OF NATURAL RESOURCES IN SOUTH SUDAN AND THE DRC ROBERT GORWA

GLOSSARY CPA - Comprehensive Peace Agreement FARDC - Armed Forces of the Democratic Republic of Congo SPLA - Sudan People’s Liberation Army SPLM - Sudan People’s Liberation Movement FDLR - Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda CNDP - National Congress for the Defence of the People M23 - March 23 Movement

As two countries which have been plagued by longstanding political turmoil and internal conflict, South Sudan and the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) are both often said to suffer from the “resource curse,” a scenario where natural wealth not only fails to provide requisite economic development, but also actively undermines the capacity of the state and serves as an incentive for conflict. Natural resources do not exist in a vacuum, and they do not cause war on their own; however, when mismanaged, they can create a host of institutional problems which drastically increase the risk of civil war. Having achieved independence more than 50 years apart, these two countries serve as a fascinating case study. Despite their differing political circumstances, colonial legacies, and resource endowments, they share many similarities regarding the failure of their respective governments to effectively utilize their natural wealth. This paper will argue that government mismanagement of natural resources in both the DRC and South Sudan has dramatically increased the feasibility of intrastate conflict at civil war onset.


MORE THAN FEASIBLE

SOUTH SUDAN: PATRONAGE, PREDATION, AND THE CONSOLIDATION OF POWER After decades of conflict between North and South Sudan, and a particularly long and bloody civil war which claimed the lives of thousands, South Sudan obtained autonomy in 2005. With the third-largest oil reserves in Sub-Saharan Africa, independence provided an exciting opportunity for the South Sudanese to finally reap some of the benefits of their large natural resource wealth.1 Instead, Juba’s new control over oil was exercised in a manner which would exacerbate the rural-urban split, foster patronage networks, breed corruption, and generally set the stage for the 2013 conflict. In 2005, the new government in Juba decided to focus almost entirely on oil, despite provisions in the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) that committed it to the development of agriculture, infrastructure, and the service sector. As noted by Medani, “oil now accounts for 98 percent of the country’s total exports and over 80 percent of its gross domestic product” despite the fact that the livelihoods of most South Sudanese are dependent on herding and agriculture. He went on to claim that “there is no oil-exporting country in the world so dependent on this one commodity for its revenue, the bulk of which accrues directly to the state” — oil revenues between 2005 and 2010 have been estimated to be approximately 9.5 billion.2 Troublingly, almost none of this money has made its way to the South Sudanese population, the majority of whom live below the global poverty line.3 Instead of investing in public infrastructure, education, health, or job creation, the government spent oil revenues on defence — on average, 50% of the entire budget was spent on the Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA) every year.4 This focus on oil widened the gulf between the majority of the population (80% of whom live in rural areas) and the ruling elite in the capital.5 Policies enacted by the South Sudanese government in the years between autonomy and 1

Khalid Medani, 2013. “Open for Business: The Political Economy of Intercommunal Violence in South Sudan,” Middle East Report, p. 28

2

Medani, 2013, p. 28

3

World Bank, 2009. http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/SI.POV.NAHC/countries/SS?display=graph

4

Ibid., p. 29

5

World Bank, 2015. South Sudan Overview: http://www.worldbank.org/en/country/southsudan/overview

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independence (2005-2011) exacerbated this rural-urban split — a factor which Medani lists as crucial in the lead-up to the civil war in 2013. For example, traditional grazing lands were ‘privatized’ and leased to foreign corporations: “Between 2007 and 2010, companies based in the US, the United Arab Emirates, Egypt, Finland, Great Britain, South Africa and elsewhere secured an estimated 5.74 million hectares of land for agriculture, biofuels, forestry, carbon credits and ecotourism.”6 Additionally, Juba’s unwillingness to mediate tribal disputes over land and water rights created unrest at the local level and divided communities.7 As the majority of South Sudan experienced economic stagnation, drought, and poverty, the ‘aristocracy’ in Juba became wealthier and wealthier, further augmenting the rural-urban divide.8 This process was enabled by the government’s total control over oil reserves and oil revenues. Le Billion notes that differing types of resources will have differing strategic effects on conflict dynamics, and contrasts ‘diffuse’ resources (which are scattered, difficult to control, and vulnerable to predation) with ‘point’ resources (which are concentrated, easier to control, and can be dominated by one group or actor). He goes on to argue that while “oil revenues accessible to rebellions can prolong hostilities, oil revenues only accessible by the central government can be used to ensure an overwhelming military dominance.”9 Indeed, in the case of South Sudan, the government took advantage of rapidly rising oil prices to consolidate its power through patronage networks, corruption, and bribery. For this reason, De Waal claims that “South Sudan achieved independence as a kleptocracy.” He cites a Transparency International report which placed South Sudan near the very bottom of its annual corruption index, noting that “corruption permeates all sectors of the economy and all levels of the state apparatus and manifests itself through various forms, including grand corruption and clientelistic networks along tribal lines.”10 This corruption served as the vehicle through which the new South Sudanese government was able to consolidate power immediately following its independence. Despite the fact that public spending per capita was more than seven times that of 6

Medani, 2013, p. 29

7

Ibid.

8

Clemence Pinaud, 2014. “South Sudan: Civil War, Predation and the Making of a Military Aristocracy,” African Affairs, p. 194

9

Philippe Le Billon, 2005. Fuelling War: Natural Resources and Armed Conflict, p. 66

10

Alex de Waal, 2014. “When Kleptocracy Becomes Insolvent.” African Affairs, p. 358


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neighbouring Ethiopia, or that South Sudan received more aid per capita than any of its neighbours, almost no money was spent on public goods such as education or health — instead, “Much of the national wealth was simply stolen or recycled into a patronage system” enabled and fuelled by the government’s mismanagement of oil revenues.11 Scholars analyzing the economic aspects of civil war have found that government management of natural resources is an important variable in determining civil war onset. Collier et al. (2008) state that control of natural resource reserves “can sever the government from the need to tax citizens and hence indirectly produce a government that is not accountable, thereby increasing the grounds for grievance.”12 Fearon and Laitin (2003) focus on oil more specifically, and argue that “oil producers tend to have weaker state apparatuses than one would expect given their level of income, because the rulers have less need for a socially intrusive and elaborate system to raise bureaucratic revenues.”13 Interestingly, this process concurrently raises the incentives for patronage and corruption, as “oil revenues raise the value of the ‘prize’ of controlling state power.”14 In the case of South Sudan, the government became locked in a sort of ‘tug-of-war’ between these two factors, as growing revenue from natural resources increased government power while simultaneously also encouraging factions within the government to vie for that power. In the words of Le Billion, “Rapidly rising oil revenues did consolidate the Government of Sudan’s security apparatus, but also intensified wealth incentives for Southern groups.”15 In sum, all of these processes combined to dramatically increase the feasibility of civil war. The government’s focus on oil reserves at the expense of all other natural resources exacerbated a rural-urban split that fostered discontent and dissatisfaction, and oil revenues were consolidated to an extent which allowed the government to wholly ignore the grievances of the rural majority. All the while, internal factions and forces contested for larger shares of these revenues, as patronage networks and corruption ran amok in Juba’s political marketplace. It was only a matter of time 11

de Waal, 2014. p. 359

12

Collier, Paul, Anne Hoeffler and Dominic Rohner, 2009. “Beyond Greed and Grievance: Feasibility and Civil War,” Oxford Economic Papers 61, p.8

13

Fearon, James and David Laitin. 2003. “Ethnicity, insurgency, and civil war.” American Political Science Review 97, p. 81

14

Ibid.

15

Le Billon, 2005. p.74

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until leaders would no longer be able to buy off rival factions and the country would be torn apart by vicious infighting.

THE DRC: DIFFUSE RESOURCES AND STATE FAILURE The Democratic Republic of the Congo has one of the world’s largest mineral endowments, with massive stores of cobalt, coltan, copper, gold, tin, and diamonds, as well as huge amounts of timber and other natural resources.16 However, the country has remained locked in a cycle of conflict since achieving independence in 1960. As a result, the wealth from these natural resources has not been transferred to its population. In 2013, the Congo was named the world’s least developed country by the UN, and scholars such as de Wit have since suggested that the DRC may have the worst case of the resource curse ever seen.17 In the Congo, as in South Sudan, government mismanagement of natural resources made conflict far more feasible. In the case of the DRC, however, this failure has been the result of two inexorably linked factors: the inability to control natural resources, and the lack of effective governance. Many of the problems plaguing the Congo at the onset of the Kivu conflict were related to the lack of an effective state. These problems were not new, and were likely product of a legacy of resource exploitation that harkens back to the colonial period. As noted by Gambino, the patronage networks and corruption characteristic of the Mobutu regime were handed down to Laurent Kabila, and then again to Joseph Kabila.18 Corruption has since ran rampant, with secret ‘local agreements’ determining profit-sharing structures in the mining trade. Revenues were embezzled at all levels of the resource extraction process—which lacks an effective regulatory framework or consistent system of taxation. “Unaccounted private bargains, through the sales of national mines and resources, far exceed the state’s annual budget in health and education,” as officials skim profits and hand over land rights for kickbacks.19 Corruption has turned government revenues into personal profits, thereby seriously 16

de Wit, Maarten. 2015. Geology and Resource Potential of the Congo Basin. p. 26

17

de Wit, 2015. p. 26.

18

Gambino, Tony. 2011. “Case study: Democratic Republic of Congo.” World Development Report, p. 15

19

de Waal, 2014. p. 360


limiting the ability of the government to effectively govern—a problem, especially when combined with the DRC’s abundance of diffuse natural resources. Alluvial diamonds, sometimes dubbed the ‘guerrilla’s best friend,’ are the most lootable resource of them all. Not only easy to mine artisanally, they are also incredibly easy to smuggle — a few million dollars worth of diamonds can be carried out of the country in someone’s pocket. The Democratic Republic of the Congo is massively abundant in alluvial diamonds—as well as coltan, casserite, and several other minerals classified as diffuse resources by Le Billion.20 Resources which are both diffuse and distant are especially vulnerable to predation.21 In the case of the Congo, these minerals are predominantly concentrated in the North and South Kivu provinces, more than 3000 kilometres from the capital of Kinshasa.22 With the bulk of Eastern Congo’s mineral wealth situated in an area not only outside of effective state control, but also extremely close to the Ugandan, Rwandan, and Burundian borders, predation by outside forces, foreign-backed militias, and local tribal groups became even more feasible. Established to combat resource predation, the Armed Forces of the Democratic Republic of Congo (FARDC) has not made the situation any better. In fact, due to insufficient funding and corruption at the highest levels of its leadership, the FARDC itself became involved in the mining trade. Perpetrating mass atrocities against civilians and imposing horrific conditions at mines under its control, the army now largely sustains itself on its mining profits.23 Understandably, the FARDC has been unwilling to change the status quo and has been largely ineffective in its protracted battles against the Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda (FLDR), the March 23rd Movement, and the other armed groups which have established mining operations in the Eastern Congo. As summarized in a 2010 International Alert Report, “The current system of commercial trading is an oligopolistic one that enriches a whole group of government officials, army officers, militia leaders, traders, transporters and foreign intermediaries whose profits are 20

Le Billion, 2005. p. 34

21

Ibid.

22

de Wit, 2015. p. 21

23

International Alert, 2010. The Role of the Exploitation of Natural Resources in Fuelling and Prolonging Crises in the Eastern DRC. p. 7


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thought to be running in the millions of dollars.”24 Rampant corruption undermines the government’s ability to operate effectively, feeding a recursive loop of resource extraction and bad governance which has culminated in decades of civil war, death, and suffering.

COMPARISON: NATURAL RESOURCES AND CIVIL WAR Measuring which variables increase the likelihood of civil war is difficult, and the literature remains divided. But scholars are still debating an even more essential question: why does civil war occur? Many explanations have been proposed, including ethnic tensions, ideological differences, various social grievances, inequality (both real and perceived), and assorted economic aims.25 However, there has been a growing consensus that natural resource wealth, and petroleum wealth in particular, is correlated with the onset of civil war.26 In both South Sudan and the DRC, an explanation of conflict rooted in the political economy of natural resources holds water where many of the common narratives do not. For example, the common ethnic theory of conflict that pits the Dinka against the Nuer in South Sudan and the Tutsis against Hutus in Eastern Congo fails to account for the puzzling instances of cooperation between these rival groups. Gambino notes that “An intriguing reality of the Congolese conflict is that sharp ethnic differences have not, in general, interfered with economic interests” — interests largely related to the effective exploitation of natural resources.27 Even existential enemies, such as the Hutu FDLR and the Tutsi National Congress for the Defence of the People (CNDP), have at times peacefully cooperated and traded for their mutual economic benefit. Similarly, high level officials in South Sudan have ‘crossed racial lines’ when allying themselves with one of the two main factions, dispelling the notion that the government split occurred completely on the basis of ethnicity.28 Moreover, evidence suggests that economic patronage networks often 24

Ibid. p. 6

25

Göran Holmqvist, 2012. “Inequality and Identity: Causes of War?” Uppsala: Nordiska Afrikainstitutet Discussion Paper 72. p. 7

26

Michael Ross, 2015. “What Have We Learned about the Resource Curse?” Annual Review of Political Science 18. p. 240

27

Gambino, 2011. p. 18

28

Douglas Johnson, 2015. “Briefing: The Crisis in South Sudan.” African Affairs.


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operated along ethnic lines, and that in a high-stakes political marketplace, toplevel officials attempted to ensure that those entrusted with power would not betray them.29 Historical legacies can be combined with an economic, resource-based analysis to provide further understanding, as well. In South Sudan, the government’s choice to focus on oil and consolidate power must be understood in the historical context of the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement (SPLM), and the decades of conflict between North and South Sudan. According to de Waal, the roots of the South Sudanese kleptocracy “lie in the way that Sudan ruled southern Sudan, including through a counter-insurgency that used ethnic militia, and in the nature of the insurgency itself, which was run along neo-patrimonial lines.”30 Because Sudan had a history of backing Southern groups to create divisive infighting and intra-South conflict, the transitional government of South Sudan utilized natural resource wealth to buy off various factions and integrate them into South Sudan’s new government and army.31 However, this came at a cost; as South Sudan’s large oil reserves were not sufficient to keep buying off these groups (such as the Nuer and Shilluk SPLA splinters) indefinitely, the government played into the cycle of patronage which would dramatically increase the feasibility of intra-southern conflict.32 In the Congo, the government’s role must be understood within the historical context of resource exploitation that dates back to colonialism. Under Belgium’s King Leopold II, the Congo was subject to a horrific period of extraction-based slavery, where local populations were brutally conscripted en-masse to collect rubber and other resources. After the Congo finally achieved independence, the situation did not improve as much as some had hoped— Mobutu seized power in a coup and then “retreated to a houseboat on the Congo River, engaging in nearly no governance of his huge country.”33 Under his rule, the government “existed only as a structure for individual enrichment and patronage, devolving into the web of personal interests 29

Jok Madut Jok, 2013. “Mapping the Sources of Conflict and Insecurity in South Sudan,” p. 13

30

de Waal, 2014. p. 348

31

de Waal, 2014, p. 349

32

Ibid.

33

Gambino, 2011. p. 3

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and connections which would allow for the misuse and exploitation of Congo’s natural resources by various armed groups.34 In both South Sudan and the DRC, the government’s management of natural resources played a decisive role in raising the risk of civil war to the point that it became more than feasible—a point where the economic costs of rebellion became very low, or the potential gains from rebellion became very high. This outcome was reached in two different ways. In the South Sudan, point and direct resources provided the government with the overwhelming wealth which allowed it to steadily increase its power, while simultaneously increasing the likelihood that internal factions would contest for this power. In the case of the Congo, diffuse and indirect resources made it far more difficult for the government to exercise control of its natural wealth — a problem exacerbated by a lack of effective institutions, governance, and accountability. As a result, the costs of resource predation for local armed groups and neighbouring countries became negligible, and civil war became practically inevitable.

EASIER SAID THAN DONE: POLICY SUGGESTIONS AND CONCLUSION Combating more than 50 years of entrenched corruption is no easy task, and neither is uniting a country expressly divided for political gain. Effective resource management must be undertaken as a barrier against recidivism. This means that, as the most oil-dependent economy in the world, South Sudan must finally diversify its resource strategy and begin to invest in other, untapped sources of natural wealth— especially those which provide outputs that do not accrue immediately to the state. As most South Sudanese are pastoral-agriculturalists, farming would seem to be a natural choice. Additionally, rigorous international oversight needs to be applied to Juba’s budget to ensure that security spending does not exceed a certain level and that money is spent on public goods such as education and health. As well, transparency and anti-corruption programs should be implemented at all levels of government, and international aid should be made conditional upon their continued 34

Ibid.


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success. Without these three provisions, it seems very likely that war will erupt again, for the exact same reasons as before. The question of what to do in the Democratic Republic of the Congo is a slightly more difficult one. As follows from my analysis, natural resource management and governance are inter-related, and any effective solution will have to address both issues simultaneously. The answer is not as simple as increased aid or international intervention; in South Sudan, international actors have not been as helpful as one would hope. For example, Stearns notes that the United States and the international community “have supplied over 40 percent of the budgets of Congo and Rwanda, but they have rarely displayed the commensurate political and diplomatic muscle necessary to leverage this aid toward a sustainable solution.”35 While it seems obvious that international pressure should be used to dissuade Uganda, Rwanda, and Burundi from backing rebel groups in Eastern Congo, these groups are not about to disappear and are likely to continue stirring up trouble in the region. Programs which impose transparency, accountability, and anti-corruption measures at the highest level—and then tie them to international aid—will likely also be necessary to induce the government to crack down on corruption. Furthermore, the FARDC needs to be brought under control, as it continues to be implicated in assorted atrocities and war crimes. As well, the government should consider physically addressing the disconnect between Goma and Kinshasa, and should consider establishing a large regional outpost or secondary capital in the region. Finally, sustainable, reasonable, and transparent programs of taxation and regulation are desperately needed to govern mining and the mineral trade. Far fetched as they may be, serious changes along these lines are necessary in order to reduce the feasibility of further conflict. As Kabila’s term is slated to end next year, and the rumours about his seeking a unconstitutional third term continue to swirl, one cannot help but worry that war shall return to the Congo once again. Although South Sudan and the DRC vary greatly in resource type and have differing political contexts, government mismanagement of natural resources 35

Jason Stearns, November 2013. ”Helping Congo Help Itself.” Foreign Affairs.

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increased the risk of civil war and made it far more feasible in both cases. The two case studies show that natural resource management and overall governance are closely intertwined, especially in countries which are heavily resource dependent. A vicious cycle is often created, as bad governance increases the mismanagement of these resources, and vice versa. Many of the problems which made war feasible at civil war onset still affect South Sudan and the DRC today, and especially good policy- making shall be needed if the pattern is to be broken. The stakes are definitely high, as resource wealth may just determine the future of these two countries. Will it be one where resources are utilized as an engine for productive development, or one where they once again fuel civil war and conflict?


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Resistance to the International Criminal Court by Disaffected African Member States KAREN SLAKOV

The adoption of the Rome Statute in 1998 laid the groundwork for the creation of the first permanent international court set up to try individuals for crimes against humanity, war crimes, genocide, and crimes of aggression. Today, 123 countries have ratified the Rome Statute and the International Criminal Court has investigated 21 cases in nine different situations (ICC 2015).1 However, the court has not met with unqualified praise from member states, the public, or academics despite that climate of optimism that surrounded its creation. State leaders have called for the ICC to stop “ignoring the voice of Africa” (Ruhindi 2013), while academics have criticized the Court’s “blindness” to the potentially disruptive effects of its investigations in volatile post-conflict contexts (Armstrong 2014). Although 34 African states have ratified the Rome Statute and all the ICC’s investigations thus far have involved African nations, often referred to the ICC by the countries themselves, there is a growing movement among African member states which is heavily critical of the ICC’s interventions. This thesis examines the possibilities for disaffected member states to resist the ICC in light of these criticisms. This research is part of a broader inquiry into the role that developing or less powerful states can play in affecting change on an international level, both on the organizational and normative levels. This paper finds that entrenched international norms serve to discourage direct forms of resistance or actual withdrawal from the ICC, while encouraging discursive resistance to the organization. Member states wishing to resist the ICC have incentives to create change within the organization rather than looking for alternative organizations and to frame criticism of the ICC as consistent with widely accepted norms of 1

Situations can be defined in terms of temporal, material, and territorial parameters (ICC 2015). For example, the violence in Kenya following the 2007 election is a situation currently under investigation by the ICC which has both territorial and temporal parameters. Each situation may encompass multiple cases against individuals accused of crimes under ICC jurisdiction.


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individual criminal responsibility for crimes against humanity. Thus, member states use mechanisms of discursive and direct resistance in order to oppose the ICC as an organization, but are hesitant to resist the established norms which underlie the organization. This paper finds several important factors which seem to predict how states choose to resist the ICC. Perhaps the strongest indicator of resistance is the degree to which states feel that the ICC is a threat to existing power relations. Thus, member states have often welcomed ICC indictments of rebel leaders, while simultaneously criticizing the ICC’s indictment of state leaders who may be equally culpable. Differing state capacities and types of governance also help to explain the way states choose to resist. This paper develops a theoretical framework that describes which methods resisting states employ in their efforts to either change the ICC’s behavior or avoid its influence depending on the characteristics of the resisting state. This paper proceeds as follows. First, I review the existing literature regarding the creation and structure of the ICC and its role in developing international norms of justice, and provide a brief overview of common criticisms of the ICC. I then investigate the possibilities for developing countries to affect organizational change and transform or reject international norms and review ICC procedures for dealing with dissent internally, as well as exploring external routes for states to express their discontent. Finally, I elaborate a theoretical framework which will help to explain the ways member states choose to resist and review the behaviors of African member states in light of this framework. Although a comparative case study is beyond the scope of this paper, I believe that the theoretical framework I develop is wellsupported by a qualitative analysis of the different types of resistance employed by African ICC member states.

THE INTERNATIONAL CRIMINAL COURT IN CONTEXT: CREATION AND CRITICISMS The creation of International Criminal Court was preceded by several other attempts to institute courts that could prosecute crimes against humanity in cases where national courts lacked either the capacity, willingness, or perceived legitimacy

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to do so. However, the ICC is the first permanent, independent body which is not be limited to one situation, but has a broader mandate that extends to a variety of situations. The ICC is often considered the inheritor of a tradition dating back to the Nuremberg trials or even earlier, which lost momentum during the Cold War but resurfaced on the international stage with the creation of the International Criminal Tribunals for Rwanda and Yugoslavia (Deitelhoff 2009; Schiff 2008).2 As Simmons and Danner (2010) argue, the temporary courts in Rwanda and Yugoslavia set an important precedent for the creation of the ICC by showing that international courts could operate effectively outside of the immediate post-World War II context. Although an atmosphere of optimism surrounded the creation of the International Criminal Court, there has been no shortage of criticisms of the ICC from a variety of different perspectives both during and after its creation. Some of the earliest criticisms of the ICC were over the issue of sovereignty. During the negotiation process which eventually led to the Court’s creation, many states, including the United States, raised concerns that the jurisdiction of the ICC could threaten national sovereignty (see Kissinger 2001; Schiff 2008, 92). However, many states were skeptical of these claims, and sovereignty is no longer a popular criticism among member states. Some (Leonard 2005; Schiff 2008) argue that the principle of complementarity, which is enshrined in the Rome Statute, was what allowed so many states to disregard arguments about sovereignty and join the ICC. Complementarity is the provision that limits the potential reach of the ICC to only those cases where a member state “is unwilling or unable genuinely to carry out the investigation� (Rome Statute Art. 17). This principle offers clear protection for state sovereignty even among member states by guaranteeing the primacy of national courts over international courts and served as a counter to concerns about sovereignty. In addition to the principle of complementarity, a shift in international norms that has prioritized cooperation and justice over sovereignty may also have had some impact on the decrease in significance of these arguments (Ramos 2013; Sikkink 2011). However, these arguments continue to be made by some member states who, 2

Some scholars (Bass 2002; Schabas 2001) suggest that the origins of war crimes tribunals date back earlier than Nuremberg, with Schabas citing the trial of Peter von Hagenbach for war crimes committed while occupying the town of Breisach in 1474 as the first example of an international criminal tribunal.


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despite choosing to ratify the Rome Statute, feel reluctant to allow international institutions to operate in their countries (see, for example, Pflanz 2014). Interestingly, the United States, which has not been directly affected by ICC prosecutions, has been more willing to argue against the ICC on the basis of sovereignty than many states who have hosted ICC investigations (Schiff 2008). Resisting African member states who have been subject to ICC involvement have turned instead to arguments based in discourses of neocolonialism and relative power in the international community. This suggests that states who are most worried about sovereignty simply chose not to join the ICC from the start, whereas resisting member states are driven by other concerns not captured by the sovereignty argument. Many African Union member states have voiced frustration with the ICC’s focus on the African continent, often employing discourses of neocolonialism to express their disaffection. Muammar Gaddafi, for example, characterized the ICC indictment of Sudanese President Omar Al-Bashir as “an attempt by [the West] to recolonize their former colonies” (BBC News 2009). Similarly, Yoweri Museveni, the president of Uganda, has criticized the ICC as being a “tool for oppressing Africa” (Al Jazeera 2014). This concern is echoed in the scholarly literature. Sagan (2010) argues that the ICC has helped to reproduce cultural narratives as Africans as ‘others’ who must alternately be saved from their own brutality and punished for it (see also Ndahinda 2013). However, much of the literature rejects this explanation for the ICC’s decision to operate solely in Africa thus far, even while recognizing that the ICC is perceived as a neocolonial institution by many developing states (Mamdani 2010; Ainley 2011; Sarkin 2011). Sarkin (2011) points out that the majority of the world’s genocides in the late twentieth century occurred in Africa, and that “the majority of crimes under the Court’s jurisdiction have occurred where the Court has issued indictments” (134). By far the most cogent and convincing argument against the ICC is one that focuses on the link between the Court and power asymmetries in international relations. According to this argument, the ICC is forced to issue indictments only in less powerful, developing nations because developed states have the influence internationally to protect their nationals from indictment (Mamdani 2010;

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Armstrong 2014). Tedros Adhanom, the Ethiopian Minister of Foreign Affairs and chairperson of the African Union Executive Council, has complained that the ICC is “condescending” towards Africa, and that the Court has “transformed itself into a political instrument targeting Africa and Africans” (Hickey 2013). The African Union has also condemned the ICC’s seeming bias against African member states, citing “unfair treatment” as an area of frustration and calling for the ICC to “take Africa’s concerns seriously” (AU 2013). Another important criticism of the ICC made by member states is that it disrupts peacebuilding efforts by pursuing retributive justice outcomes without considering possible negative impacts on building a sustainable peace. In Uganda, there is significant public debate over the ICC indictments of the leaders of the Lord’s Resistance Army (Armstrong 2014). Armstrong (2014) argues that in an effort to promote the ICC, the Court’s supporters in Uganda and elsewhere lost sight of the end goal of peace. Insisting that Joseph Kony and other leaders indicted by the ICC be brought to trial internationally, she argues, may have seriously damaged the prospects for peace in Uganda because many rebel leaders offered to sign peace agreements in exchange for amnesty in international courts (see also Branch 2007). Furthermore, local groups may have very different expectations for justice than international observers; for example, Baines (2007) points out that victims of violence in Uganda may search for forgiveness and reconciliation through spiritual healing processes rather than through internationally recognized mechanisms such as the ICC. However, other scholars (Clark 2011; Gegout 2013) are more optimistic about the prospects for the ICC in promoting lasting peace in conjunction with justice, particularly through the integration of restorative justice models with the retributive model of the Court. Understanding these criticisms of the ICC is essential to understanding the ways in which member states choose to resist it. It is important to note that these criticisms are generally aimed at the ICC as an organization, not at the norm of individual criminal responsibility that the ICC is often seen to represent.3 Thus, 3

Of course, the lines between resistance to norms and the resistance of an organization that is seen as representative of those norms are often unclearly drawn. For a more thorough examination of state resistance to entrenched norms, see Brennan et. al 2013 and Shannon 2000.


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member states often reaffirm their commitment to the norms which underlie the ICC’s creation even as they criticize the ICC’s actions. For example, Kenya, a strong critic of the ICC, recognized at the thirteenth general debate that while the state “has strong views on the manner in which the Rome Statute is being interpreted and implemented,” it is committed to and believes in “the rule of law… the fight against impunity and in the promotion and protection of human rights” (Kamau 2014). Even non-member states such as the US continually affirm their adherence to the norms which the ICC represents. This seems to confirm Sikkink’s (2011) argument that the norm of individual criminal responsibility which allowed for the creation of the ICC has become increasingly powerful, forcing would-be violators of the norm to reconsider their actions in light of potential consequences. However, another less optimistic explanation for the apparent support for the norm of individual criminal responsibility is that violations still occur, but are now framed differently in order to avoid political repercussions. In the case of the ICC, African member states seem to frame resistance as organizational, rather than normative.

THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK: NORMS, RESISTANCE, AND DISAFFECTED STATES The creation and current international standing of the International Criminal Court cannot be explained without reference to theories of norm cycles and the constraining influence of these norms on the international community. While the principle of complementarity helped to convince states to join the ICC, many scholars (see Deitelhoff 2009; Sikkink 2011) argue that a shift in international norms of individual criminal responsibility was the deciding factor which allowed for the creation of the ICC. Finnemore and Sikkink (2010) describe this shift as a “norm cascade” (895). A norm cascade occurs when enough actors accept a certain norm that it becomes politically difficult to reject it. Finnemore and Sikkink argue that while actors have many different motivations for promoting emerging norms, after a “critical mass” of actors accept an emerging norm, other actors are encouraged to imitate these “entrepreneurs” through a combination of pressure to conform and desire to enhance international legitimacy (895). Finally, the norm is internalized and

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most debate ceases as it becomes generally accepted by the international community. While these steps may follow linearly on each other, norm reversal is also possible, and some norms may never reach the stage of internalization. This framework is essential to understanding the creation of the ICC and its ongoing influence on the international stage. Sikkink (2011) argues that the creation of the ICC is the result of the internalization of the norm of individual criminal responsibility for crimes against humanity, which had become prevalent enough at the moment of the creation of the ICC that it would have been politically difficult for countries to refuse to commit to its creation. Even the United States, which has been very critical of the ICC, signed the Rome Statute, although it simultaneously declared its intent not to ratify the statute and become a member state (UN 2015). Sikkink (2011) points out that while the US has the international influence to refuse to ratify the statute, they have still been affected by the norm cascade which allowed for the ICC’s existence. Speeches by US officials which criticize the ICC often seek to affirm, for example, that “the US is more committed than ever to bringing perpetrators of war crimes and violators of international humanitarian law to justice” (Prosper 2001). Statements such as these reveal that despite a refusal to ratify the Rome Statute, the US still conforms to the norm of individual responsibility for crimes against humanity, even as they criticize the ICC as a mechanism for the implementation of this norm. Despite the apparent explanatory power of norm cascades in describing the creation of the ICC, it can be difficult to pin down exactly how these cascades begin. As Finnemore and Sikkink (2010) point out, “norms do not emerge out of thin air” (895). Rather, they are the result of dedicated actors working actively to promote a particular norm or set of norms, either for normative reasons or more pragmatic concerns. However, it often seems unclear what exactly actors can do to promote the emergence of new norms or the replacement of old ones. Holsti (2004) suggests that change on the international scale will necessarily be gradual, but does not offer much practical advice to states wishing to speed up this gradual process. Some constructivist scholars posit “ideational change” (Hirsch 2014, 810) as a causal force behind norm emergence, but this conception of norm emergence leaves little space


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for state or individual agency in affecting change. Finnemore and Sikkink (2010) offer a more agent-centered description of the process of norm emergence. They argue that the primary method of actors engaging in norm promotion during the initial stages of norm emergence is “persuasion” (898); however, they offer few examples of this phenomenon on an organizational level, instead referencing acts of civil disobedience as examples of this behavior. Other scholars (Coleman 2013; Deitelhoff 2009) have taken up this concept and used it to explain the negotiation processes which take place in international organizations such as the ICC and the UN, both in their creation and in their ongoing operations. In the case of the ICC, Deitelhoff argues that during the negotiation process, less powerful actors were able to reach compromises with powerful actors through the process of persuasion in order to bring about the creation of the ICC despite the resistance of important powers, particularly the United States. In addition to theories of norm emergence, some scholars (McKeown 2009; Brennan et al 2013) posit theories of norm regression or unraveling. McKeown argues that constructivist theories of norms tend to be biased towards “nice norms” (5), and fail to explain why some norms, in particular the moral norm prohibiting torture, have eroded despite having gained widespread acceptance internationally. He argues that the unraveling of the torture norm signals that is impossible to consider any norm to be “irreversibly internalized… it will be useful to perceive them only as more or less salient” (7). This theorization of norm regression or replacement seems to point towards an understanding of norm emergence and regression as part of a larger cycle of norm change, in which norms are continually being revaluated and reimagined by international actors, and gain or lose power in this process. This understanding of norms can help to explain the desire of member states to appear to conform to the norm of individual criminal responsibility, which is currently powerful due to its widespread acceptance in the international community, but also allows us to imagine a possible erosion of this norm if enough states were to challenge it. In the context of disaffected states, a theory of norm change in which norms gain and lose power in an ongoing process of revaluation and contestation by states,

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NGOs, and other actors can help to explain how states choose to resist organizations which are based in entrenched norms. In the case of the ICC, the power of norms of criminal responsibility and rule of law serve to discourage overt withdrawal from the Court because of the penalties which noncompliant states face both internationally and domestically, thus encouraging diverse forms of resistance as less costly alternatives. Norms have the power to affect organizational loyalty because the ICC is seen to represent these entrenched norms, and withdrawal from the organization would be interpreted as a violation of the norms associated with the ICC. Norms with greater international influence – those which have been widely accepted by the international community – will create greater barriers to organizational withdrawal than those with less power because breaching these more powerful norms will result in increased costs for the noncompliant state. If, for example, norms endorsing individual criminal responsibility were to fade, disaffected states would face less severe penalties or a decreased probability of penalties for withdrawing from the ICC. However, given the deeply entrenched nature of this norm, states would currently face significant penalties for appearing to breach them. Currently, the fear of such penalties has prevented any member state from actually leaving the ICC, although some states have threatened to do so and Kenya’s National Assembly actually voted to withdraw in 2010, but the motion was never signed into law and no further actions have been taken since (Mueller 2014). Of course, as McKeown (2009) suggests, there remains the possibility that these norms will erode with time; in the interim, however, disaffected states will likely try to find alternative methods of resisting the ICC that stop short of withdrawal or attempt to frame withdrawal in ways which discourage perceptions that the country is breaching norms of human rights legalism. In order for withdrawal to be a viable option for states, given the current influence that the norm of individual criminal responsibility holds over the international community, states would have to succeed in discursively separating the ICC as an organization from the ICC as representative of a set of entrenched norms. The hesitance of member states to appear to be in violation of these norms


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is reflected in the way criticism of the ICC has been framed. That is, states have criticized the ICC as a mechanism, but not as an idea. As Kenya stated at the 13th Assembly of State Parties, it is the “implementation and interpretation” of the Rome Statute that has come under fire, rather than the norms which are enshrined in that document (Kamau 2014). In threats of withdrawal, similar strategies are observed among resisting states. For example, in a recent call for the mass withdrawal of African member states from the court, Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni stated that while he initially supported the ICC because of its support for the rule of law and “discipline,” he could no longer do so as it had “turned into a tool for oppressing Africa” (Reuters 2014). By opposing the behaviour of the court while affirming his commitment to the rule of law, Museveni attempted to avoid the appearance of nonconformance to powerful norms. Similarly, the creation of an African criminal court could serve as a way for states to leave the ICC or avoid its jurisdiction without appearing to breach entrenched norms, as this court could potentially serve as a replacement, in theory if not in practice.4 This paper explores the ways in which ICC member states attempt to frame their resistance to that organization in ways which avoid the appearance of violation of entrenched norms and minimize costs associated with the breach of those norms.

CASE SELECTION AND METHODOLOGY: RESISTING AND NONRESISTING STATES This paper has chosen to focus on African member states for several reasons. Firstly, Africa has been the sole target of the International Criminal Court’s interventions; although there have been preliminary examinations in other areas, none of these have yet progressed into an actual investigation and there have been no indictments outside of Africa. Given the criticism that the ICC has faced for this perceived bias, a focus on the African case is warranted. Furthermore, African states tend to have less influence on the international stage, a factor this paper wishes to isolate. States such as the United States, which never joined, have considerable 4

For a critique of the proposed African Court of Justice and Human Rights as a replacement for the ICC, see Naldi & Magliveras 2012.

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international leverage and thus can occasionally act outside of the norms which less powerful states are constrained by. In examining how less influential states are resisting the ICC, this paper aims to provide insight into the broader question of how these states can affect change on the international level, despite possessing considerably fewer resources, both in terms of ‘soft’ and ‘hard’ power. For the purposes of this study, it is necessary to divide African member states into the categories of ‘resisting’ and ‘non-resisting’ (Table 1). As is the case in the creation of any binary, there is some nuance lost in this categorization of states; however, because this paper wishes to examine only the actions of resisting states, this distinction is unavoidable. There is certainly space for further investigations into the reasons why states choose to resist or not to resist, but responding to this question is beyond the scope of this paper. The choice to resist seems to be related to the degree of grievance a state has with the ICC, yet this does not completely explain the behaviour of African member states. Furthermore, it appears that actions by the ICC which threaten to destabilize the current power relations in a state are more likely to result in resistance by that state. In particular, as might intuitively be expected, heads of state are most likely to object to ICC actions that threaten either themselves or their colleagues with prosecution, or actions which might be seen to undermine the power of African heads of state collectively, such as subjecting another head of state to prosecution. TABLE 1: RESISTING AND NON-RESISTING STATES RESISTING STATES

NON-RESISTING STATES

CHAD

NIGERIA

BENIN

LIBERIA

COMOROS

REPUBLIC OF CONGO

BOTSWANA

MADAGASCAR

COTE D’IVOIRE

SENEGAL

BURKINA FASO

MALI

DRC

SEYCHELLES

BURUNDI

MAURITIUS

DJIBOUTI

SOUTH AFRICA

CAPE VERDE

NAMIBIA

GHANA

UGANDA

CAR

NIGER

KENYA

TANZANIA

GABON

SIERRA LEONE

LESOTHO

ZAMBIA

GAMBIA

TUNISIA

MALAWI

GUINEA


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In deciding which states to categorize as resisting, this paper disregards bilateral immunity agreements between member states and the United States, given their ubiquity and the immense pressure that the US holds over many African member states, both financially and militarily (AMICC 2011). I also do not consider as resisting states which, as members of the African Union, are formally part of the statements and actions taken by the AU which are critical of the ICC. Doing so would mean that all African ICC member states, which are all also AU member states, would be categorized as resisting despite having taken no other measures to resist or even having criticized the AU decisions regarding the ICC. While this paper considers the AU decisions to be acts of resistance, only those states which championed those decisions or showed support for them beyond their status as AU member states are categorized as resisting states. The complex relationships many African member have with the ICC further complicates the task of dividing states into categories of resisting and non-resisting states. For example, Cote d’Ivoire has encouraged the prosecution of former president Laurent Gbagbo and his wife, but has been less open to the investigation of alleged war crimes committed by the current leadership and has supported an amendment to the Rome Statute that forbids the indictment of sitting heads of state (BBC News 2013a; Gnenema 2013). Thus, the categorization of a state as ‘resisting’ does not mean that it has been solely critical of the ICC, as many states have criticized the ICC while simultaneously reaffirming their commitment to the organization. In short, resisting states are those that have exhibited one or more of the types of resistance which I will detail in the next section, even if at other instances that same state may have declared their support for either the ICC as an organization or for the norms which the ICC represents.

ANALYSIS: TYPES OF RESISTANCE ICC PROCEDURES AND STRUCTURE: RESISTANCE FROM WITHIN The International Criminal Court is composed of two major bodies, the court itself and the Assembly of State Parties, which is made up of representatives

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of each of the member states and is charged with the management, oversight, and legislative duties of the ICC (ICC 2015). The Assembly has a Bureau which comprises a President, two Vice Presidents, and eighteen elected members from among member states, which are supposed to be representative of the different geographical locations and legal systems of members (Rome Statute Art. 112). The activities of the ICC are governed by the Rome Statute, which describes how the court is organized, what types of crimes fall under the jurisdiction of the court, basic principles of criminal law to which the court adheres, and the roles of member states in the operation of the court and the Assembly of State Parties (Arsanjani 1999). The International Criminal Court offers several internal mechanisms that allow for disaffected member states to express their discontent and suggest reforms. The primary internal forum for debate is the General Debate, which occurs at every session of the Assembly of State Parties (ICC 2015). Near the beginning of each session, each state party, as well as observer states and attending NGOs and IOs, are given the opportunity to make a statement representing their country’s position with regards to the ICC’s policies. States such as Kenya and Uganda have used this opportunity to make strong statements criticizing the ICC, particularly for its indictment of Kenya’s president, Uhuru Kenyatta, and its perceived bias against African countries. At the most recent session of the Assembly, Kenya’s representative openly expressed that Kenya “deeply regretted that the ICC continues to be a hindrance and a stumbling block to these aspirations [of building a strong democracy and society]” (Kamau 2014). Member states can also attempt to pass amendments to the Rome Statute, as some African state parties are currently doing. The Rome Statute allows for amendments with the approval of two thirds of state parties; however, states wishing to opt out of any particular amendment may do so even if it has been approved by the requisite number of state parties (Art. 121). Amendments which are not “of an exclusively institutional nature” (Art. 122) became possible seven years after the entry into force of the Statute, in accordance with Article 121. Since then, the Working Group on Amendments has been established, which meets regularly to discuss


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amendments to the Rome Statute proposed by member states. Both Kenya and South Africa, with the support of other African member states, have suggested amendments to the working groups, most notably the proposal to forbid the indictment of sitting heads of state (Working Group on Amendments 2014). In proposing amendments to the Rome Statute, member states have found ways to promote organizational change from within the ICC, while simultaneously maintaining at least the appearance of adherence to internationally accepted norms.

EXTERNAL AVENUES TO RESISTANCE Outside of the formal procedures of the International Criminal Court, state parties have a number of alternative methods of resistance to the organization. Political speeches which criticize the ICC are the most common of these methods. The criticisms of the ICC which this paper has already discussed have been found in speeches given by state leaders, civil society groups, and even the chairs of the Arab League and the African Union. For example, the Arab League, in condemning the indictment of Omar Al-Bashir, stated that they “reject attempts to politicize the principles of international justice and using them to undermine the sovereignty, unity, and stability of Sudan� (NYT 2009). Through these critical speeches, political leaders have the opportunity to persuade other politicians, as well as domestic actors, of the illegitimacy of the ICC as a mechanism of norm enforcement. Another method of resistance is non-cooperation, in particular the refusal to arrest indicted persons upon arrival in a member state. Many African states, including ICC member states, have failed to comply with ICC requests to arrest Al-Bashir. Since his indictment, he has been welcomed in numerous countries, including Chad, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Djibouti, Kenya, Malawi, and Nigeria, although some of these states have since refused to allow him to visit (ICC 2015). Non-cooperation represents a more direct form of resistance to the ICC. Unlike attempts to amend the Rome Statute or the voicing of criticisms through the General Debate, non-cooperation presents an avenue of resistance which aims not necessarily to change the ICC, but to remove the resisting state from its sphere of

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influence. Rather than trying to change aspects of the Court which they dislike, by refusing to cooperate with the court, these states are simply choosing to opt out of participation in activities of the court which they do not support. The inability of the ICC to reliably enforce its decisions without the support of member states means that non-cooperation remains a viable mode of resistance. Resistance to the ICC has also taken the form of multilateral agreements or decisions, primarily through the African Union. In response to perceived ICC bias against Africa, the African Union held an extraordinary summit on the ICC in 2013, which concluded that “no charges shall be commenced or continued before any international court or tribunal against any serving head of state� (AU 2013). African state parties, led by Kenya, have since proposed an amendment to the Rome Statute that echoes this decision. There have also been attempts, led by the African Union, to create a regional criminal court which could potentially replace the ICC (ACHPR 2015). A proposal to extend the mandate of the AU’s judicial branch to include criminal matters is currently under review by the AU, but there has been no significant progress in its realization since the idea was first proposed in 2009. Alternate courts could potentially provide a way for member states to leave the ICC without facing the political costs that such an action would normally incur. Finally, member states could potentially simply withdraw from the ICC altogether. However, no member state has ever done so, although some African member states threatened to leave the ICC over the indictment of Uhuru Kenyatta, the President of Kenya. Kenya has voted to withdraw from the ICC twice, although neither of those votes have resulted in any further legislative action and Kenya continues to participate in Court activities as a member state (Mueller 2013; BBC News 2013b). Since then, even those states which have been highly critical of the ICC have been careful to reaffirm their commitment to the ICC even as they attempt to change those policies which they dislike. Because of the international commitment to the norms that the ICC is seen to represent, withdrawing from the ICC would likely incur significant costs to any state which attempted to do so, as they would be seen to be rejecting not only the ICC as an organization, but the norms of individual


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criminal responsibility, rule of law, and human rights legalism.

CATEGORIZING RESISTANCE: DISCURSIVE AND DIRECT FORMS OF RESISTANCE This paper divides the types of resistance observed among African member states into two groups, discursive and direct forms of resistance. Broadly, the avenues to resistance to the International Criminal Court available to member states are as shown in Table 2 below.

TABLE 2: TYPES OF RESISTANCE DISCURSIVE

DIRECT

GENERAL DEBATE

NON-COOPERATION

AMENDMENTS

CREATION OF ALTERNATE COURTS

POLITICAL SPEECHES

WITHDRAWAL

MULTILATERAL AGREEMENTS

As previously noted, these types of resistance are commonly framed by states as being organizational rather than normative. The method of non-cooperation is probably the closest to an attempt to challenge norms that is observed among African member states, although even states which practice non-cooperation often do so while employing rhetoric that attempts to align their actions with international norms. For example, the Democratic Republic of Congo, in justifying their failure to arrest Al-Bashir, claimed that because of his position as a head of state, they were unsure as to the legality of his arrest (ICC Decision 2013). While this justification certainly poses a challenge to the Rome Statute’s declaration that “official capacity as a Head of State… shall in no case exempt a person from criminal responsibility under this Statute” (Art. 27), it does not attempt to undermine the principle of criminal responsibility itself. Resistance labeled as discursive includes criticism of the ICC in the Assembly’s general debate or through political speeches. It also includes attempts to

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amend the Rome Statute. Multilateral agreements, in this case, are decisions made by regional or international organizations outside of the ICC, such as the AU, which are critical of the court. An example of this would be the decision made by the AU at the Extraordinary Summit on the ICC, which called for the end of indictments of heads of state (AU 2015). Direct resistance includes non-cooperation, such as the refusal to arrest indicted persons, as well as the creation of alternate courts which could potentially replace the ICC as the mechanism of enforcing the norm of individual criminal responsibility. Theoretically, the withdrawal of a member state from the ICC would also be a form of direct resistance; however, no state has done so thus far – although some states initially refused to join the ICC upon its creation, no state has joined the ICC and subsequently left the organization. Although I have chosen to divide the different modes of resistance exhibited by member states into the categories of direct and discursive resistance as listed above, I do not mean to exclude the possibility of overlap between these categories. For example, Kenya’s aborted attempts at withdrawal are certainly a direct form of resistance, but they also use these attempts as leverage in order to make their discursive resistance efforts more credible and thus more effective. Similarly, when some AU member states called for a mass withdrawal of African states from the ICC, they were using the threat of withdrawal as leverage to increase the power of other resistance tactics. While discursive and direct resistance are clearly distinct forms of resistance, they can be seen as interacting tactics which may complement or work against each other. This interaction can be clearly seen in the actions of states which undertake multiple methods of resistance which may fall under the categories of both discursive and direct resistance at different times.

DISCUSSION: DEVELOPING A FRAMEWORK FOR RESISTANCE GRIEVANCE LEVELS AND RESISTANCE TO THE INTERNATIONAL CRIMINAL COURT Perhaps the most intuitive potential explanation of resistance among member states is a state’s level of grievance with the International Criminal Court. By grievance, I specifically refer to a member state’s status as under investigation or preliminary examination by the court. If the ICC is interfering directly with the


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governance of a state, it seems likely that that state would push back against that interference. Of eight total investigations or preliminary examinations in African member states, five of those are taking place in states that are engaged in some type of resistance against the ICC; however, it is difficult to draw conclusions based on this information due to the relatively small number of ongoing ICC investigations. Furthermore, many of these states are fully cooperative with the ICC’s investigation in their own country, focussing their criticism on other aspects of the ICC’s behavior. Among states which choose to resist, the most common tactic is discursive resistance, with only six of the fifteen resisting states employing some form of direct resistance in order to express their dissatisfaction with the ICC (Table 3). Of those states which have resorted to direct resistance, non-cooperation has been the primary tool employed by these state parties. Discursive resistance, on the other hand, has been employed in a variety of ways, both from within and from outside the ICC. As Table 3 shows, while there does not appear to be a strong relationship between a country’s choice to use discursive or direct methods of resistance and its level of grievance with the ICC, there are some important conclusions that can be drawn from this table.

TABLE 3: GRIEVANCE AND RESISTANCE

HIGH GRIEVANCE

DISCURSIVE

DIRECT

BOTH

UGANDA

DRC

COTE D’IVOIRE KENYA NIGERIA

LOW GRIEVANCE

COMOROS GHANA LESOTHO REPUBLIC OF CONGO SENEGAL SEYCHELLES SOUTH AFRICA TANZANIA ZAMBIA

CHAD

DJIBOUTI MALAWI


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Firstly, states which are hosting an ongoing investigation or examination have a slightly increased tendency to employ multiple methods of resistance rather than just one. This finding implies that member states who are experiencing an ICC investigation or examination, and have a higher stake in the outcome of resistance to the ICC, are more involved in resistance. This explanation is further supported by the fact that Uganda, although using only discursive resistance, has been at the head of the AU movement calling for withdrawal from the ICC, along with Kenya. Conversely, member states with lower levels of grievance tend to rely solely on discursive resistance to express their discontent (Table 3). This seems to confirm that states with less personal stake in the outcome of disputes with the ICC may be less willing to take the political risk that direct resistance would entail. Those states which are least directly affected by the ICC’s involvement in Africa and have chosen to employ only discursive methods of resistance – states in the low grievancediscursive resistance category – are those which have been less vocal about their frustration with the ICC. Thus, the behavior of low grievance states which choose to resist the ICC through discourse only may be explained by a desire to express solidarity with other African states, yet maintain a politically desirable position. A state’s internal power relations may also serve as a strong predictor of resistance. In particular, as mentioned briefly earlier in this paper, states tend to resist the ICC when they see its behavior as a threat to established internal structures of power. This tendency is reflected in the insistence of many resisting states on the problem of the indictment of sitting heads of state over other issues. For example, Ghana has actively worked with the court to promote the cooperation of state parties, but has also criticized the court’s indictment of Uhuru Kenyatta and other heads of state (Ayine 2014; Mahama 2014). A desire to protect powerful members of one’s own state and a desire to personally avoid future prosecution may explain the behavior of the many member states not directly affected by the ICC’s involvement in Africa choosing to support initiatives that criticize indictments of heads of state, such as amendments to the Rome Statute and the decision of the African Union’s Extraordinary Summit on the ICC. Although these states may not


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be directly threatened by ICC actions, they see the indictment of formerly powerful heads of state as a potential future threat to their own power. This desire to protect oneself from future prosecution is likely another important concern which, along with a desire to express solidarity for other African leaders, encourages discursive resistance among member states that are not currently undergoing investigation or examination by the ICC.

STATE CAPACITY AS A PREDICTOR OF RESISTANCE The reliance of certain states on direct over discursive forms of resistance seems to be at least partially explained by state capacity. Table 4 below shows the relationship between the type of resistance employed by a state and its FSI rating, which approximates capacity. States such as the DRC and Chad, which are ranked among the top ten most fragile states in the world according to the Fragile States Index, have relied primarily on direct resistance to oppose the ICC (Fund for Peace 2015). This could simply represent a lack of state capacity to comply with ICC requests, given that both states are among the most fragile states in the world. Chad and the DRC have both refused to cooperate with ICC requests to deny entry to Al-Bashir or to arrest him upon arrival. As a form of resistance, non-cooperation is an easy tactic for member states with lower state capacity to employ as it simply requires a lack of action. In defending the choice not to cooperate with the ICC, the DRC cited a lack of “time and resources” as the primary reason for their inability to arrest Al-Bashir upon his visit to that state, which implies that a lack of capacity was at least a part of the DRC’s decision not to cooperate (ICC Decision 2014).5 Chad, in a similar situation, failed to even respond to the ICC’s inquiries regarding its failure to arrest Al-Bashir, similarly suggesting a lack of resources (ICC Decision 2013). On the other hand, state capacity cannot explain the behaviours of other low capacity states who resist using both discursive and direct resistance (Table 4).

5 Decision 2014).

However, the ICC refused to accept this explanation as sufficient and referred the matter to the Assembly of State Parties and the Security Council (ICC

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TABLE 4: STATE CAPACITY AND RESISTANCE

WARNING

DISCURSIVE

DIRECT

BOTH

SEYCHELLES

--

--

--

DJIBOUTI

SOUTH AFRICA HIGH WARNING

COMOROS GHANA

MALAWI

LESOTHO REPUBLIC OF CONGO SENEGAL TANZANIA ZAMBIA ALERT

UGANDA

--

KENYA

HIGH ALERT

--

CHAD

COTE D’IVOIR

DRC

NIGERIA

Another explanation for the observed relationship between capacity and type of resistance may be that states with higher capacity are more able to navigate the formal channels available to them in order to use voice on the international stage. It may also be the case that states with lower capacity are less invested in cultivating the appearance of norm adherence that the use of discursive over direct resistance encourages. Given the unclear nature of the relationship shown in Table 4, it is difficult to be certain what exactly is driving this relationship. I suggest that the interaction between grievance and state capacity may be important to understanding why lower capacity states tend to employ direct over discursive resistance. In Table 4, there is a clustering of states in the higher capacity-discursive resistance corner, all of which are also states with low levels of grievance with the ICC. On the other hand, among the states with the lowest capacity, only Chad does not have an ongoing ICC investigation or examination in its territory. This suggests significant correlation between state capacity and level of grievance, making it difficult to see which is the stronger predictor of resisting states’ behaviours. There is other evidence that state capacity is part of the reason why states choose to employ either direct or discursive resistance, however. Other measures of


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state capacity, such as GDP per capita, total aid received, and government spending, are all related to how states choose to resist. GDP per capita and government spending are higher on average among member states who practice discursive resistance compared to member states which practice both discursive and direct resistance, and states which employ only direct resistance have even lower averages (World Bank 2015). A states’ total aid received has the opposite relationship to its choice of either direct or discursive resistance, with higher aid totals found among states practicing direct resistance and lower aid totals in member states employing only discursive resistance (World Bank 2015). The fact that the relationship between state capacity and type of resistance holds up when measured in multiple different ways suggests that there is indeed some real relationship between the two. Further research would be necessary in order to determine the strength of this relationship as well as how this relationship interacts with the relationship between grievance and resistance.

DEMOCRACY AND CIVIL LIBERTIES A state’s political institutions seem to be strongly related to the way it chooses to resist the International Criminal Court. Among resisting African member states rated as free by Freedom House, all three relied solely on discursive forms of resistance to oppose the ICC (Freedom House 2015). While some partly free and not free states similarly employed only discursive resistance, most not free states relied on direct resistance and around half of partly free states relied on some combination direct and discursive forms of resistance (Table 5). This relationship suggests that more democratic states tend to rely on discursive resistance, while less democratic states favor direct resistance. There are a few different possible interpretations of this relationship. It could be the case that citizens of resisting states tend to prefer discursive methods of resistance, and are able to express this preference more effectively in democratic resisting states. On the other hand, it may also be the case that discursive resistance echoes existing habits of political behavior in democratic states, encouraging its use. This theory would suggest that a state’s behavior in the international community

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is a reflection of its domestic institutions (see, for example, Milner 1998). The most intuitively convincing explanation of the democracy-discursive resistance relationship, however, is linked to the earlier argument that because heads of state and other powerful figures wish to protect their positions and avoid prosecution by the ICC, resistance to the ICC has tended to focus on issues which threaten states’ internal power relations. This would explain why less democratic states might be particularly concerned about the potential for the ICC to prosecute heads of state for crimes against humanity, as unaccountable state leaders are often those most likely to commit crimes against humanity and other crimes the ICC prosecutes. However, without deeper knowledge of citizens’ preferences regarding modes of resistance, it is difficult to conclude with certainty that one or the other of these theories is the best explanation for the relationship between democracy and the use of discursive resistance.

TABLE 5: TYPE OF GOVERNANCE AND RESISTANCE

FREE

DISCURSIVE

DIRECT

BOTH

GHANA

--

--

--

COTE D’IVOIRE

LESOTHO SENEGAL SOUTH AFRICA PARTLY FREE

COMOROS SEYCHELLES

KENYA

TANZANIA

MALAWI

UGANDA

NIGERIA

ZAMBIA NOT FREE

REPUBLIC OF CONGO

CHAD DRC

DJIBOUTI


RESISTANCE TO THE INTERNATIONAL CRIMINAL COURT

Literacy rates are also strongly related to the type of resistance chosen by a member state. In member states resisting using only direct methods such as noncooperation, the average literacy rate was 49.3%, compared to 74.3% among states using only discursive methods (World Bank 2015). Because literacy allows citizens to access a variety of different information sources, this difference could suggest that where citizens have the capacity to be more informed about the politics of their country, leaders are more constrained by norms. While the desire to appear to be adhering to entrenched norms applies to all states, states whose citizens are more informed and thus more able to criticize perceived breach of norms seem to be even further constrained by the need to appear to be in conformance with norms. In the case of the ICC, domestic pressure from informed citizens’ groups has certainly been important in discouraging direct resistance to the Court. Prior to the AU Extraordinary Summit in 2013, a coalition of civil society organizations operating in a variety of different member states was very vocal in their criticism of any potential withdrawal from the Court by African member states, clearly aligning withdrawal with a breach of norms in their speeches, letters, and other publications (HRW 2013). As higher literacy rates are associated with more democratic governance, this may help to explain why more democratic governments prefer discursive over direct forms of resistance. Furthermore, the civil liberties afforded by liberal democracies allow for citizens to hold their leaders accountable for the violation of norms, including the norm of individual criminal responsibility for crimes against humanity in the case of the ICC.

CONCLUSION There is a significant body of literature regarding the emergence and evolution of norms, but less work concerning the role of states in affecting organizational or normative change on the international stage. However, Deitelhoff’s (2009) and others’ (Finnemore & Sikkink 2010; Sikkink 2011; Coleman 2013) exploration of the concept of persuasion as an avenue for affecting change helps to provide a theoretical underpinning for the exploration of the potential for International Criminal Court

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member states who are no longer satisfied with the organization’s behavior to resist the ICC’s influence. This paper has examined the ways African member states have chosen to express discontent with the ICC. This paper has found that while African member states have been quick to criticize the ICC’s behavior, they have simultaneously reaffirmed their commitment to the norms which underpin the ICC’s existence and often to the ICC itself. Furthermore, despite intense criticism, no member state has yet withdrawn from the Court, suggesting that the entrenchment of the norm of individual criminal responsibility for crimes against humanity and other norms represented by the ICC has discouraged organizational withdrawal, as well as direct forms of organizational resistance. Member states’ resistance to the ICC has been primarily discursive, and has included criticism of the ICC in political speeches and the Assembly’s general debate, the proposal of amendments to the Rome Statute, and multilateral decisions and agreements which are critical of the court. Direct resistance has also been employed by some states in the form of noncooperation with ICC decisions. Some states have also used the threat of withdrawal as leverage in order to potentially enhance the influence of acts of discursive resistance. African member states have strategically employed a variety of tactics in order to express discontent with the ICC, carefully choosing when to use discursive or direct forms of resistance in order to achieve their goal of creating organizational change within the Court. In general, the clear preference of most resisting states for discursive over direct resistance suggests that norms act as an important barrier to direct resistance for disaffected member states. The political and economic costs that states often face when violating internationally agreed upon norms, such as the norm of individual criminal responsibility which drove the creation of the International Criminal Court, serve to dissuade states from actually withdrawing from the organization in order to avoid the appearance of breaching the norms which it represents. Instead, states tend to rely on discursive resistance in order to avoid the potential costs associated with withdrawal or direct resistance, such as sanctions or decreasing domestic support. In cases where states do employ direct resistance, they attempt to frame


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their use resistance as a protest against the organization of the ICC, rather than against the established norms of individual criminal responsibility or rule of law. Often, states which refuse to cooperate with ICC requests to extradite indicted persons excuse their actions by describing their decision in terms of frustration with the ICC’s implementation or interpretation of the Rome Statute, rather than with the Statute itself. In doing so, these states attempt to distance themselves from accusations of norm violation while still managing to resist behaviors of the ICC which they disagree with. However, given the difficulty of successfully framing direct resistance as genuinely organizational rather than normative, given how the ICC as an organization has come to represent important and deeply entrenched norms about justice, most states refrain from the use of direct resistance, relying instead on methods of discursive resistance which similarly attempt to frame criticism of the ICC as entirely organizational. Beyond the general tendency of member states to use discursive as opposed to direct methods of resistance, there is important variance among member states in the ways in which they choose to resist the ICC. In particular, it seems that more democratic states are more likely to rely on discursive methods of resistance, while less democratic states tend to rely on direct resistance. Higher state capacity also seems to lead to an increased tendency towards the use of discursive over direct resistance. Member states with higher grievance with the ICC – those undergoing an investigation or examination by the ICC in their own country – were more likely to be involved in direct forms of resistance, and those that used only discursive resistance did so more vocally than other resisting states with less of a personal stake in the outcome of their resistance. States which felt the most threatened by the ICC’s indictments, particularly Kenya, whose president was indicted by the court, were also among the more vocal resistors. This indicates that the protection of existing domestic power structures was an important motivator of resistance, leading to increased resistance to the indictment of heads of states compared to other issues. While this paper is limited in scope, it has identified several important factors predicting how member states choose to resist international organizations.

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Furthermore, it is my hope that the conceptualization of norms as providing a barrier to withdrawal and discouraging the use of direct resistance will open up a space in the discourse on international organizations and provide fertile ground for further research into the effect of norms on resistance to organizations other than the ICC, among other potential areas of investigation.


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Hønneland, Geir. Borderland Russians: Identity, Narrative and International Relations. New York, Palgrave Macmillan, 2010. Hønneland, Geir. “Norsk-Russisk Miljø-og Ressursforvaltning i Nordområdene”. Nordlit 29, no 1. (2012): 79 - 87. Hønneland, Geir and Øyvind Østerud. “Geopolitics and International Governance in the Arctic,” Arctic Review on Law and Politics 5, no. 2 (2014): 156–176. Jacobsen, Alf R. U-2-Affæren. Oslo, Aschehoug & co, 2009. Laustsen, Eliese. “Sanksjonene mot Russland, Slik beholder Norge forholdet til Russland” DagensNæringsliv, August 21, 2014. Accessed 13 March 2015. Keohane, Robert and Joseph Nye, Power and Interdependence: World Politics in Transition. Boston, Toronto: Little, Brown and Company, 1977. Kosmo, Svein. (2010). “Kystvaktsamarbeidet Norge-Russland: En forsettelse av politikken med andre midler?”, Unpublished Masters diss., Forsvarets stabsskole, Oslo. Moe, Arild. “Russian Oil – Challenges and Possibilities”. Oxford Energy Forum 97. No. 4 (2014): 17 – 19. The National Archives of Norway. Frigjøring og gjenreising. Accessed February 17, 2015. North Atlantic Treaty Organization. (2014) “NATO Secretaries General”. Accessed March 23, 2015. The Nobel Foundation 1922. Fridtjof Nansen – Biographical. Accessed. February 17, 2015. Norwegian Armed Forces. (2015) Joint Viking. Accessed March 13, 2015. Norwegian Armed Forces. (2015) Pomor. Accessed March 13, 2015. Norwegian Armed Forces. (2015) Northern Eagle. Accessed March 13, 2015. The Norwegian Barents Secretariat. “Regjeringen øker støtten til Barentssamarbeidet”. February 2, 2015. Accessed February 15, 2015. The Norwegian Government. (2014) Norway suspends all planned military activity with Russia. Accessed March 13, 2015. The Norwegian Government. (2015) Norway suspends bilateral military activities with Russia in 2015. Accessed March 13, 2015. The Norwegian Government Office of the Prime Minister. (2014) Norge vil innføre nye restriktive tiltak mot Russland. Accessed February 19, 2015. The Norwegian Intelligence Service. (2015) FOKUS-2015: Etterretningstjenestens Ugraderte Vurdering. Oslo: Forsvaret.


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The Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs. (1993). Barentsregionen: et regionaliseringsprosjekt i det nordligste Europa. Oslo: Det kgl. Utenriksdepartement. The Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs. (2014). NordKloden”. Oslo: Det kgl. Utenriksdepartement. The Norwegian Government Ministry of Justice and Public Security. (2014) Statsråd 10 oktober 2014. Accessed. February 17, 2015. Norwegian Research Council (2014) “Veikart for bilateralt forskningssamarbeid: Forskningssamarbeid med Russland”. Oslo, Forskningsrådet. Pettersen, Trude. “Norway and Russia join forces in Arctic response drill”. BarentsObserver, March 10, 2015. Accessed March 17, 2015. Rozneft. Rosneft and Statoil Start Exploration Operations on the Norwegian Continental Shelf in the Barents Sea”. Published August 18, 2014. Accessed February 19, 2015. Sneve, Stein. “Boikott hindrer ikke norsk-russisk samarbeid i nord”. AvisaNordland. January 15, 2015. Accessed February 12, 2015. Staalesen, Atle. “Lundin, Lukoil prepare for Barents drilling” BarentsObserver, March 12, March 20, 2015.

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Staalesen, Atle. “Oil ministers shuttle between Russian and Norway”. BarentsObserver, June 13, 2013. Accessed February 18, 2015. Staalesen, Atle. “Norway Russia Committed Barents Cooperation Despite Divisions over Ukraine”. AlaskaNews, February 10, 2015. Accessed. February 21 2015. Sverdrup, Ulf. “Norske Sanksjoner?”. Norwegian Institute of International Affairs, May 21, 2014. Accessed February 20, 2015. Winther, Jan-Gunnar. “Ukraina-krisen”. Norsk Polarinstitutt , November 16, 2014. Accessed 14 Feb 2015. Ytreberg, Rune. “Dropp Boikotten av Russland”. DagensNærignsliv, February 4, 2015. Accessed. February 17, 2015. Ånestad, Morten. Åshild Langved, Jostein Løvås, Ida Grieg Riisnæs. “Sanksjoner Skaper Forvirring”. DagensNæringsliv, September 2, 2014. Accessed February 19, 2015.


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LESSONS FROM AFGHANISTAN — JULIAN D'SOUZA Balasevicius, Tony. “Unconventional Warfare: The Missing Link in the Future of Land Operations.” Canadian Military Journal, 9, no. 4 (2009) : 30-40. Bercuson, David J., and Granatstein, J.L. “ Lessons Learned? What Canada Should Learn from Afghanistan.” Canadian Defence & Foreign Affairs Institute, Calgary, AB, 2011. Chief of the Land Staff. “Counter-Insurgency Operations (English) (B-GL-323-004/FP-003)”. Department of National Defence, Ottawa, ON, 2008. Jardine, Eric. and Palamar, Simon.“From Medusa Past Kantolo: Testing the Effectiveness of Canada’s Enemy-Centric and Population-Centric Counterinsurgency Operational Strategies.” Studies in Conflict & Terrorism, 36, no. 7 (2013) : 588-608. Taillon, J. Paul de B. “Canadian Special Operations Forces: Transforming Paradigms.” Canadian Military Journal 6, no. 4 (2006) : 67-77. Wentzell, Tyler. “Security Force Capacity Building: Local Ownership Versus Human Capital.” Canadian Military Journal 12, no. 1 (2011) : 15-23. Williams, Peter J. “Being ‘Left of Bang,’ or Proactive: The Future Place of Capacity Building in the Department of National Defence and the Canadian Armed Forces.” Canadian Military Journal 15 no. 2 (2015) : 16-25. Windsor, Lee. “An Introduction to Canada’s Experience During Operation Athena Phase II.” Canadian Army Journal 15 no. 2 (2013) : 14-31.

MORE THAN FEASIBLE — ROBERT GORWA Collier, Paul, Anne Hoeffler and Dominic Rohner, 2009. “Beyond Greed and Grievance: Feasibility and Civil War,” Oxford Economic Papers 61, 1-27. de Waal, Alex. 2014. “When Kleptocracy Becomes Insolvent.” African Affairs, 347-369. de Wit, Maarten. 2015. Geology and Resource Potential of the Congo Basin. New York: Springer Publishing Fearon, James and David Laitin. 2003. “Ethnicity, insurgency, and civil war.” American Political Science Review 97, 75–90 Gambino, Tony. 2011. “Case study: Democratic Republic of Congo.” World Development Report. Holmqvist, Göran. 2012. “Inequality and Identity: Causes of War?” Uppsala: Nordiska Afrikainstitutet Discussion Paper 72.


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International Alert. 2010. The Role of the Exploitation of Natural Resources in Fuelling and Prolonging Crises in the Eastern DRC. Johnson, Douglas H. 2015. “Briefing: The Crisis in South Sudan.” African Affairs, 300-309 Jok, Madut Jok. 2013. “Mapping the Sources of Conflict and Insecurity in South Sudan.” Juba: The SUDD Institute Special Report No. 1. Le Billon, Philippe. 2005. “Chapter 2: The Strategic Role of Resources in Wars.” Fuelling War: Natural Resources and Armed Conflict. International Institute for Strategic Studies. Le Billon, Philippe. 2010. “Oil and Armed Conflicts in Africa,” African Geographical Review 29:1, 63-90. Medani, Khalid M. 2013. “Open for Business: The Political Economy of Intercommunal Violence in South Sudan,” Middle East Report. Pinaud, Clemence. 2014. “South Sudan: Civil War, Predation and the Making of a Military Aristocracy,” African Affairs, 192-211 Ross, Michael. 2015. “What Have We Learned about the Resource Curse?” Annual Review of Political Science 18: 239-259. Shankleman, Jill. 2011. “Oil and State Building in South Sudan.” In USIP Special Report 282. Washington: USIP Stearns, Jason. 2013. ”Helping Congo Help Itself.” Foreign Affairs. World Bank. 2015. South Sudan Overview. Accessed Nov. 22. <http://www.worldbank.org/en/country/ southsudan/overview>

RESISTANCE TO THE INTERNATIONAL CRIMINAL COURT — KAREN SLAKOV Ainley, Kirsten. “The International Criminal Court on Trial.” Cambridge Review of International Affairs 24, no. 3 (2011): 309-333. Armstrong, Kimberly. “Justice without Peace? International Justice and Conflict Resolution in Northern Uganda.” Development and Change 45, no. 3 (2014): 589-607. Arsanjani, Mahnoush H. “The Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court.” The American Journal of International Law 93, no. 1 (1999): 22-43. Ayine, Dominic. Statement at the 13th General Debate of the ASP of the ICC, New York, December 10, 2014. http://www.icc-cpi.int/iccdocs/asp_docs/ASP13/GenDeba/ICC-ASP13-GenDeba-GhanaENG.PDF.


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Baines, Erin. “The Haunting of Alice: Local Approaches to Justice and Reconciliation in Northern Uganda.” International Journal of Transitional Justice 1, no. 1 (2007): 91-114. Bass, Gary. Stay the Hand of Vengeance: The Politics of War Crimes Tribunals. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2002. Branch, Adam. “Uganda’s Civil War and the Politics of ICC Intervention.” Ethics and International Affairs 21, no. 2 (2007): 179-198. Brennan, Geoffrey, Lina Eriksson, Robert E. Goodin, and Nicholas Southwood. Explaining Norms. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013. Clark, Janine Natalya. “Peace, Justice, and the International Criminal Court: Limitations and Possibilities.” Journal of International Criminal Justice 9, no. 3 (2011): 521-545. Coleman, Katharina P. “Locating Norm Diplomacy: Venue Change in International Norm Negotiation.” European Journal of International Relations 19, no. 1 (2013): 163-186. “Countries Concluding Bilateral Immunity Agreements.” AMICC. January 1, 2011. http://www.amicc.org/ usicc/bialist. “Decision on the Cooperation of the DRC Regarding Omar Al-Bashir’s Arrest and Surrender to the Court.” ICC. April 9, 2014. http://www.icc-cpi.int/iccdocs/doc/doc1759849.pdf. “Decision on the Non-Compliance of the Republic of Chad with the Cooperation Requests Issued by the Court Regarding the Arrest and Surrender of Omar Hassan Ahmad Al-Bashir.” ICC. March 26, 2013. http://www.icc-cpi.int/iccdocs/doc/doc1573530.pdf. Deitelhoff, Nicole. “The Discursive Process of Legalization: Charting Islands of Persuasion in the ICC Case.” International Organization 63, no. 1 (2009): 33-65. “Extraordinary Session of the Assembly of the African Union.” African Union. October 12, 2013. http://www. au.int/en/content/extraordinary-session-assembly-african-union. Finnemore, Martha and Kathryn Sikkink. “International Norm Dynamics and Political Change.” International Organization 52, no. 4 (1998): 887-917. “Fragile States Index 2014.” Fund for Peace. June 24, 2014. http://library.fundforpeace.org/fsi14 -overview.“Freedom in the World 2014.” Freedom House. 2014. https://freedomhouse.org/report/ freedom-world/freedom-world-2014. Gegout, Catherine. “The International Criminal Court: Limits, Potential, and Conditions for the Promotion of Peace and Justice.” Third World Quarterly 34, no. 5 (2013): 800-818. Gnenema, Coulibaly. Statement at the 12th General Debate of the ASP of the ICC, The Hague, November 21, 2013. http://www.icc-cpi.int/iccdocs/asp_docs/ASP12/GenDeba/ICC-ASP12-GenDebaCoteDIvoire-FRA.pdf.


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Haddad, Heidi Nichols. “After the Norm Cascade: NGO Mission Expansion and the Coalition for the International Criminal Court.” Global Governance 19, no. 2 (2013): 187-206. Hickey, Stanley. “African Union Says ICC Should not Prosecute Sitting Leaders.” The Guardian 2013, October 12. Hirsch, Michal Ben-Josef. “Ideational Change and the Emergence of the International Norm of Truth and Reconciliation Commissions.” European Journal of International Relations 20, no. 3 (2014): 810-833. Holsti, K. J. Taming the Sovereigns: Institutional Change in International Politics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. International Criminal Court. Entire Website. Last Modified April 8, 2015. http://www.icc-cpi.int/EN_ Menus/icc /Pages/default.aspx. “Ivory Coast Dismisses ICC Warrant for Simone Gbagbo.” BBC News 2013a, September 20. “Jurisdiction.” African Court on Human and People’s Rights. Last Modified April 6, 2015. http://www. african-court.org/en/index.php/about-the-court/jurisdiction. Kamau, Macharia. Statement at the 13th General Debate of the ASP of the ICC, New York, December 11, 2014. http://www.icc-cpi.int/iccdocs/asp_docs/ASP13/GenDeba/ICC-ASP13-GenDeba-KenyaENG.PDF. “Kenya MPs Vote to Withdraw from ICC.” BBC News 2013b, September 5. Kissinger, Henry A. “The Pitfalls of Universal Jurisdiction.” Foreign Affairs 80, no. 4 (2001): 86-96. Leonard, Eric K. “Discovering the New Face of Sovereignty: Complementarity and the International Criminal Court.” New Political Science 27, no. 1 (2005): 87-104. “Letter to Foreign Ministers on Support for the ICC in Advance of Extraordinary AU Summit.” Human Rights Watch 2013, October 10. http://www.hrw.org/news/2013/10/04/letter-foreign-ministerssupport-icc-advance-extraordinary-au-summit. Mahama, John Dramani. Remarks on December 13, 2014. Republic of Ghana. http://www. presidency.gov. gh/node/762. Mamdani, Mahmood. “Responsibility to Protect or Right to Punish?” Journal of Intervention and Statebuilding 4, no. 1 (2010): 53-67. Milner, Helen V. “Rationalizing Politics: The Emerging Synthesis of International, American, and Comparative Politics.” International Organization 52, no. 4 (1998): 759-786. Mueller, Susanne D. “Kenya and the International Criminal Court: Politics, the Election, and the Law.” Journal of Eastern African Studies 8, no. 1 (2014): 25-42. “Museveni Calls on African Nations to Quit the ICC.” Reuters 2014, December 14.


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Naldi, Gino J. and Konstantinos D. Magliveras. “The African Court of Justice and Human Rights: A Judicial Curate’s Egg.” International Organizations Law Review 9, no. 2 (2012): 383-449. Ndahinda, Felix Mukwiza. “The Bemba-Banyamulenge Case before the ICC: From Individual to Collective Criminal Responsibility.” The International Journal of Transitional Justice 7, no. 3 (2013): 476-496. Pflanz, Mike. “Kenya President to Go to Hague Court.” The Telegraph 2014, October 6. Prosper, Pierre-Richard. Address at the Peace Palace, The Hague, Netherlands, December 19, 2001. http:// www.amicc.org/docs/Prosper_12_19_01.pdf. Ramos, Jennifer. Changing Norms through Actions: The Evolution of Sovereignty. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013. “Report of the Working Group on Amendments.” 13th Session of the ASP of the ICC, New York, December 7, 2014. http://www.iccnow.org/documents/KPTJ_Response_to_Kenya_UNGA_ Statement_on _ICC. pdf. Roach, Steven C. “How Political Is the ICC? Pressing Challenges and the Need for Diplomatic Efficacy.” Global Governance 19, no. 4 (2013): 507-523. Rodman, Kenneth A. & Petie Booth. “Manipulated Commitments: The International Criminal Court in Uganda.” Human Rights Quarterly 35, no. 2 (2013): 271-303. “Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court.” In Encyclopedia of Genocide and Crimes against Humanity, edited by Dinah L. Shelton, 1258-1268. Detroit: Macmillan Reference USA, 2005. Ruhindi, Frederick. Statement at the 12th General Debate of the ASP of the ICC, The Hague, November 21, 2013. http://www.icc-cpi.int/iccdocs/asp_docs/ASP12/GenDeba/ICC-ASP12-GenDeba-AUUganda-ENG.pdf. Ryder, McKeown. “Norm Regress: US Revisionism and the Slow Death of the Torture Norm.” International Relations 23, no. 1 (2009): 5-25. Sagan, Ann. “African Criminals/African Victims: The Institutionalized Production of Cultural Narratives in International Criminal Law.” Millenium Journal of International Studies 39, no. 1 (2010): 3-21. Sarkin, Jeremy. “Enhancing the Legitimacy, Status, and Role of the International Criminal Court Globally by Using Transitional Justice and Restorative Justice Strategies.” Interdisciplinary Journal of Human Rights Law 6, no. 1 (2011): 83-101. Schabas, William A. An Introduction to the International Criminal Court. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001. Schiff, Benjamin N. Building the International Criminal Court. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008.


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Shannon, Vaughn P. “Norms Are What States Make of Them: The Political Psychology of Norm Violation.” International Studies Quarterly 44, no. 2 (2000): 293-316. Sikkink, Kathryn. The Justice Cascade: How Human Rights Prosecutions Are Changing World Politics. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2011. Simmons, Beth A. & Allison Danner. “Credible Commitments and the International Criminal Court.” International Organization 64, no. 2 (2010): 225-256). Slackman, Michael and Robert F. Worth. “Often Split, Arab Leaders Unite for Sudan’s Chief.” New York Times 2009, March 30. Songying, Fang & Erica Owen. “International Institutions and Credible Commitment of Nondemocracies.” The Review of International Organizations 6, no. 2 (2011): 141-162. “Sudan Leader in Qatar for Summit.” BBC News 2009, March 29. “Ugandan Leader Calls on Africa to Quit ICC.” Al Jazeera 2014, December 12. “World Development Indicators – Data.” The World Bank. 2015. http://databank.worldbank.org/ data/ views/variableselection/selectvariables.aspx?source=world-development-indicators.


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CONTRIBUTOR BIOGRAPHIES | JIA 2016

STAFF Editors-in-Chief JORDAN BUFFIE is a fourth year student double majoring in the Political Science Honours and English Honours programmes. He intends to pursue graduate research in political science following graduation. He had a blast working with the JIA this year, and he would like to thank everyone for their tremendous work and dedication. NICOLE CHAN is a fifth year student pursuing a degree in International Relations and Economics, and enjoys learning about economic history, the impact of globalization, and the effect of China›s rise on the world order. Her spare time (and paycheck) goes towards funding her dreams to travel the world. She looks forward to commencing her studies at the Allard School of Law in the fall. She warmly thanks all contributors to the JIA, and wishes them happy adventuring this summer! Senior Editors PAUL ANDRÉ NARVESTAD is a fourth year standing student in the Honours Program in Political Science and International Relations. His research interests revolve around Arctic and European security, international law and defence policy. He hopes to pursue an academic career studying the Geopolitics of War with a particular focus on the role of international organizations. As a good Norwegian he enjoys cross-country skiing and getting distracted by the nice views of the Tantalus Range from the Law Library when studying. AUDREY TONG is a fifth year student in the Honours Political Science with International Relations program. Her research interests include Canadian politics, institutional design, and the development of civil society. In the fall, she intends to pursue a master›s degree in public policy and public administration. Her goal is to provide strategic planning and develop public policy that works towards empowering strong and self-sufficient communities. Editors MAAHIN AHMED is a third year International Relations major interested in issues of security and development in South Asia. When not obsessing over school assignments, she enjoys watching her favourite movies or parts of TV shows over and over again. Alternatively, being with family and friends, in person or through never-ending Skype sessions, is her idea of time spent well. NEMEE BEDAR is a graduating History and Political Science student at the University of British Columbia. Her academic interests include security studies in the Middle East and North Africa, dependency and nation-state theories, and Canadian foreign policy. Scrabble, spoken-word poetry, and sushi rank high among her greatest pleasures.


THE JOURNAL OF INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS

PETER BENNET-KOUFIE is a third year student pursuing an Honours degree in History with International Relations. He enjoys studying the history of Great Power relations over a warm cup of Earl Grey and hopes to go to law school and eventually devote his life to economic development in West Africa. HARLEEN BRAR is a Political Science major with a minor in Law and Society. She currently interns at Access Pro Bono and has completed UBC’s Co-ordinated Arts Program. In the future she plans to pursue a legal career and will be attending the National University of Singapore this summer for an exchange. TRISTAN BOBIN is a fourth year Franco-Canadian student double majoring in International Relations and Geography (Environment and Sustainability). His research interests include cartography, geopolitics in the 21st century, environmental sustainability, international political economy and International Relations Theory. Having lived in China, India and Kenya before attending UBC, Tristan will continue to travel the world in search of new experiences. ANSON CHING is graduating with a double major in Human Geography and Political Science. He is fascinated by the diverse ways human ingenuity takes shape around the world. So even though he doesn›t know what he’ll want to be doing ten ortwenty years from now, he is certain that he will continue to travel, write, eat, and marvel. AKSHAY IYER is a third year student majoring in Environment & Sustainability. His research interests are in environmental, socio-economic and geopolitical issues concerning SubSaharan Africa, South East Asia and the Middle East. Specifically, he is interested in the geopolitics and environmental policies of resource development and extraction. He is an avid global traveller and believes that his experiences abroad have shaped his academic interests. QUEENA LAU is a fourth year double major in Political Science and English Literature with particular interests in East Asian politics, securitization policies, and aesthetics. She recently studied abroad in Manchester for politics and took additional time to wander around Western Europe, Korea, and Japan. Queena is also an avid reader who enjoys taking her stress out through yoga and kickboxing. Like many fellow students, she has future plans in law. JACOB MEDVEDEV is a third year student in the International Relations program at UBC. Jacob is interested in Canadian structure and society as well as globalization. Jacob is also passionate about languages and he is excited about learning his fourth language, Spanish. Jacob had a pleasure working with the JIA editorial board this 2015-2016 year and looks forward to future endeavors with the UBC IRSA. He wishes everyone a wonderful summer. ANDRES ORDUZ is a fourth year International Relations student interested in the spaces where multinational corporations interact with development banks. He will go on to specialize in international business economics in Brussels, hoping to start a career in the private sector. Head of Producation and Design OPHIR MOSHKOVITZ is fifth year student in the English Honours program. She hopes to pursue a career in advertising or art directorship while using her English major skills to write great Instagram captions and read every book by Haruki Murakami.

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CONTRIBUTOR BIOGRAPHIES | JIA 2016

AUTHORS JULIAN D’SOUZA is a fourth year Political Science major from Toronto. Within the field he is interested in security studies, particularly counterterrorism, counterinsurgency, and intrastate war, with a specific focus on the Middle East and Africa. In the future he would like to provide consultation services to governments and the private sector on how to better implement and organize “Whole of Government” strategies abroad. ROBERT GORWA is a 4th year International Relations major and a Research Associate at the Liu Institute for Global Issues. While he enjoys studying the political economy of conflict, his work primarily focuses on the relationship between digital technology and international security, as well as on issues relating to quantum computing, internet governance, and surveillance. He will begin his graduate studies at the University of Oxford’s Internet Institute in the fall DANIEL JACINTO is a 3rd year UBC student with an Honours specialization in Asian Studies (Korea) and a Major in International Relations. He is keenly interested in North Korean governance, society, and international relations. Upon graduation, he hopes to pursue further graduate studies in these fields. SHEREEN KOTB is a graduating Political Science student. Her research interests include Middle Eastern and comparative politcs. She enjoys dystopian novels, playing squash, and doing yoga, and plans to pursue a graduate degree in International Affairs. Ultimately, she hopes to pursue a career in the Middle East, and shape public or foreign policy in the region. KAREN SLAKOV was a 4th year honours Political Science student at the time of writing. She is now a Master’s student in Political Science at UBC.

PHOTOGRAPHERS ADRIAN CHEUNG is a fourth year student majoring in Political Science with a minor in Law and Society. His academic interests broadly include modern and contemporary political philosophy, theories of justice, and post-Kantian ethics. He will be pursuing graduate studies in the UK in areas of political philosophy and legal theory this September. PHILIPPE ROBERGE was born in Montreal and spent ages 5-18 growing in Abu Dhabi before moving to Vancouver to pursue his studies in Environmental Science. An avid musician, Philippe took up photography as an additional creative outlet and hasn’t looked back since. He specializes in Adventure, Travel and Events photography. A high achiever, he hopes to some day work for either National Geographic, Time, or the BBC (if he doesn’t become a rockstar first).


SPONSOR ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

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SPONSORS INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS STUDENT ASSOCIATION UBC has long encouraged global citizenship as a key part of academic development. For many years, the International Relations Students Association (IRSA) has worked to develop co-curricular programs that help achieve this goal. We aim to provide students from a variety of disciplines with a forum for discussing international issues. IRSA membership is available to all UBC students and alumni. THE AMS SUSTAINABILITY FUND The AMS Sustainability Fund is supported through a contribution of just slightly over $2 from each UBC student. This fund of over $100,000 goes to support reducing the ecological footprint and increasing the social cohesion of the student community at UBC. UBC INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS PROGRAM The UBC International Relations program is a degree granting undergraduate program in the Faculty of Arts. With approximately 300 majors, the program is one of the largest in the Faculty. International Relations is an interdisciplinary major which permits students to take courses in a variety of disciplines including History, Political Science, Economics (the three core disciplines), as well as Geography, Asian Studies, and Sociology, among others. The IR program is a proud sponsor of the UBC Journal of International Affairs. OTHER SPONSORS IRSA and the JIA would like to thank the following organizations and departments for their generous support of our programs: UBC Alma Mater Society UBC Arts Undergraduate Society The Liu Institute for Global Issues UBC Global Lounge



Journal of International Affairs 2016