Healing Communities in Conflict: Chapter Two

State Interests and Public Spheres: The International Politics of Jordan’s Identity

Kimberly A. Maynard

1999

2. The Nature of Conflicts and Complex Emergencies

Since, in any war, the reasons that cause troops to fight constitute the most decisive factor of all, the time has now come to take our leave of strategy, looking into the human soul instead.

—Martin van Creveld (1991:161)

Violent conflict has always been at the center of human existence and a fundamental, if not pivotal, aspect of its evolution (van Creveld 1991). Human beings have been preoccupied with physical might and the threat of force throughout time, from clashes over mates, territory, or food to global positioning for nuclear war. Indeed, a brief review shows that written history is largely a history of warfare. Most states as we know them came into existence through violent struggle, conquest, or wars of independence (Keegan 1993).

A large part of military history literature concerns the various cultural and official roles that combat has played in diverse societies. Soldiers, armies, battle, and death in defense of one’s loyalties have held distinct places of honor and have had different meanings, depending in part on the values of society and the ethics of the fighting force. The Chinese, for example, who may have had the first philosophy of war, exhorted moderation and the preservation of culture over the mandates of internal revolution or foreign conquest (Keegan 1993). Historians thus corroborate that violent conflict has played a vital part in the dynamics of human culture, politics, strategic development, and personal interaction.

At the same time, nonviolent conflict also plays a vital role in healthy societies (Fahey 1993). Discord generates new thought, breeds fresh ideas, and is the origin of innovation. Without elements of conflict, individuals, communities, and governments would have less impetus to progress toward positive social change. Nonviolent struggle has historically given voice to the disenfranchised to articulate their condition and work toward creative changes in domestic policies (Fahey 1993).

Equally apparent, however, is the fact that when conflict degenerates into the use of extreme physical force and provokes civil disorder, it begins to destroy the social fabric of society. Human rights abuse and violent disruption not only polarize elements of society, closing the door to creative problem-solving, but create massive humanitarian problems. If violent conflict is at the root of complex emergencies, then an examination of its essence is critical to addressing today’s crises. Attempting to discern what causes individuals and groups resort to violence and to destroy their own habitat and entreat others to participate is a crucial aspect of responding to the ensuing humanitarian disaster. Only by understanding the foundation of, and factors affecting, contemporary conflict, can we adequately bring about its resolution. I suggested in chapter 1 that the conventional concept of war no longer applies in today’s internal conflicts. Earlier in the century, rules governed the conduct of combat, but modern violence does not adhere to the same standards. It is therefore critical that we know it more intimately and attempt to explain its characteristics. In this chapter, I explore the foundation of modern armed violence in greater depth and show how it leads to complex emergencies. The first section describes the evolution of armed violence in the twentieth century and offers a new construct for the essential traits of today’s conflicts. Next, I propose various conditions that foster such outbreaks of violence and consider factors involved in bringing them to an end. Finally, I analyze the complex emergency and its repercussions on all aspects of society.

Changes in the Nature of Combat

Over the course of modern history, the type of violent conflict and the methods by which it is carried out have undergone significant transformation. The twentieth century has been marked by three distinct evolutions in the character of major armed conflict. Trinitarian war—combat dictated by the state, conducted by its military, and waged on behalf of its people—presided over international military relations until midcentury, followed by insurgent movements until the end of the 1980s. At the end of the Cold War, these gave way to identity conflicts, which have dominated the rest of the century. Though by no means absolute, these phases seem to describe a historical trend in violence and its relation to the broader framework of social interaction and global affairs. Using these three general categories to explore conflict’s evolution in recent history, we might better understand the factors that have contributed to contemporary violence, and thus gain insight into its effects on the world.

Trinitarian War

We began this century with the reign of the Clausewitzian universe, where “politics is the womb in which war develops.” This model, presented by Carl von Clausewitz (1780–1831) in his celebrated book On War, bears the name “trinitarian war” from its foundation in the interrelationship between the three elements of government, army, and citizens. Clausewitz maintained that war is an extension of national interest as decided by the state and carried out by the military against opposing armies. By this definition, war is wholly rational and dispassionate, simply “an act of force to compel our enemy to do our will” (1976:75). The trinitarian model prevailed over the first half of the century, as exemplified by both World Wars. This form of combat was conducted by professional infantry on battlefields, for the most part, or in a more technologically removed mode by artillery and aerial units against enemy military targets. Military planning and field maneuvers were designed in strict consultation between political authorities and force commanders and carried out by combat soldiers (van Creveld 1991).

Despite Clausewitz’s championing of the trilogy where armies, as a continuation of state will, fought on behalf of the people, the latter, as van Creveld suggests, was never an equal participant. Public input was unsought and unwanted, and citizens were all but excluded from the process entirely. To segregate the people from the mechanism of war, the state often isolated soldiers in special areas. It also kept arms away from the common citizen and maintained legal distinctions between war and domestic crimes for the same offense (van Creveld 1991:40).

Accordingly, during this phase of history, civilians as a rule did not take part in battle, though they were increasingly used as tactical targets for military gain and were consequently forced to flee their homes in search of safety. In World War I, for example, occupying forces on the Western front looted and burned cities and took civilian hostages, and strategic air raids terrorized civilian populations (Ahlström 1991). Still, civilian casualties were small in comparison to military casualties: noncombatants accounted for 14 percent of the deaths, while soldiers suffered 86 percent. In World War II these ratios reversed and civilians accounted for 67 percent and soldiers 33 percent (Beer 1981:37). Both wars caused massive human migrations.

It appears that two factors contributed directly to the demise of the trinitarian model of warfare. First, the advent of nuclear weapons in 1945 radically transformed the trinitarian notion that war is rational and seriously reduced its potential as a realistic extension of politics (Keegan 1993:391). Second, toward the middle of the century the colonial era gradually came to a close, forcing the issue of independence and focusing attention on internal power struggles. As a result, a new mode of violent conflict emerged, one that could be generically termed “insurgent movements.” (Van Creveld [1991] labels this and all succeeding types of conflict “nontrinitarian war.”) This was to be the first of two evolutions in combat after the demise of the trinitarian era.

Insurgent Movements

The second phase of conflict in this century consisted of independence movements, guerrilla warfare, political rebellions, socialist revolutions, national liberation struggles, counterinsurgency campaigns, and separatist and irredentist crusades. In contrast to trinitarian wars, these conflicts were generally fought within the confines of national borders, not against other countries. Nor did they appear to be the direct manifestation of state political policy or necessarily fully engage the government army. Examples include the Philippine Muslims’ fight against the Catholic majority between 1946 and 1954, Algeria’s struggle for independence from France, the Ibo separatist movement in Biafra in 1967, the Lebanese civil war in 1975–76, the Nicaraguan Sandanista revolution in the 1970s, and Guatemala’s and El Salvador’s guerrilla wars in the 1980s.

Insurgent movements were based on group conviction generated from mutual experience and massive appeal to a rational solution. Rooted in an ideology promising tangible outcomes, they required a certain amount of understanding of the rallying principles, strong convictions, and a will to subordinate personal agendas to the larger objective. They were characterized by grassroots inculcation, propaganda campaigns, crusades of ideological education, political agitation, social persuasion, and isolated acts of violence and intimidation. The semieducated and charismatic individuals who usually organized these movements attempted to erode the social status quo and win public support, demanding specific retributions.

Ironically, the part of Clausewitz’s triad most isolated from trinitarian war, the people, was the most important in these conflicts. Insurrectionist movements depended heavily on the generation of massive public support among common citizens who were members of a particular group. Combatants were those with conviction, not necessarily those with professional fighting skills. However, because dedication to the cause often included covert military training, thousands of young recruits became semiskilled with conventional weapons. This resulted in a proliferation of arms-bearing youth and, as van Creveld notes, blurred the age-old distinction between soldier and civilian (1991:20).

Historically, each side of an insurgent movement was likely to receive military, financial, or technical support from a superpower. During the Cold War, the globe’s division between the two camps often made it notoriously easy for faction and government leaders to seek and acquire copious quantities of money, training, and weapons. As a result, the period between 1950 and 1990 was characterized by a culture of violence permeating many parts of the third world, backed by world powers playing out their political agendas and aggravated by inordinate amounts of Soviet- or American-supplied conventional weapons.

Insurgent movements frequently seemed to gain gradual momentum and then maintain a level of constant but low-level activity over a long period of time. Thus the term low-intensity conflict, or LIC, emerged. According to van Creveld, of the approximately 160 armed conflicts between 1945 and 1991, three-quarters of them were of low intensity, never escalating to all-out civil war (1991:20). The lack of escalation may have been partly a function of inadequate human or technical resources to sustain an intense fight over a long period of time, or it may have been the result of a political strategy to erode the resolve of the opposition. Furthermore, each superpower supporting the opposing parties may have intentionally prevented the escalation in order to avoid domestic controversy and an expensive arms race. (After the United States’ experience in Vietnam, for example, policymakers were notably sensitive to the public’s uneasiness about third world involvement. In the following years, the U.S. government repeatedly dealt with harsh public criticism of its low-intensity involvement with insurgent movements, such as those in Angola, Afghanistan, Nicaragua, Ethiopia/Somalia, and El Salvador [Keegan 1993].)

The end of the insurgent period corresponded with the close of the bipolar era as the communist empire crumbled. International observers watched as the relatively sudden decrease in financial and military support for many third world countries left many ongoing struggles in the lurch, with neither material nor philosophical support. Some conflicts—those in Ethiopia, Cambodia, and Chad, for example—declined or halted rather quickly. Others, such as in Afghanistan and Sudan, continue relatively unabated, though the nature of the fighting and even some of the alliances and ideologies have changed.

Identity Conflicts

My experience in several post–Cold War battlefields around the globe reveals that a third pattern of violent conflict has emerged. This form involves not merely political dimensions but the full spectrum of societal interaction. Rooted in individual identification with a group, these armed struggles can be called “identity conflicts.” (The word war, it seems, entirely befits the trinitarian model, implying calculated interaction with another force of relatively equal strength. Insurrectionist movements, for their part, were generally just that: consolidated efforts to achieve a specific end. In contrast, genocide and massacres of unarmed civilians require a more emphatic term to describe the intensity of the engagement and the personal hostility that the combatants must possess. Thus the term conflict seems appropriate.) Recent examples include Sierra Leone, Somalia, Tajikistan, Rwanda, the former Yugoslavia, Liberia, Georgia, Algeria, and Chechnya, each of which began its present battle in the early 1990s.

It is important to note that identity conflict is not exclusively a post–Cold War affair, but it has set the trend for violence in the 1990s. At the same time, it shares attributes with insurgency movements. The latter’s internal, grassroots nature and intimate involvement of the common citizen, for example, are also inherent in contemporary conflict. On closer scrutiny, however, identity conflict appears as a distinct form of armed violence by virtue of several unique characteristics. First, identity conflicts entail widespread citizen involvement. No longer confined to battlefields, isolated targets, or contested territory, the violence now flows visibly into houses, communities, schools, religious grounds, and communal property. No area is sacred and all land and structures are potential battlegrounds. Most combatants appear to be essentially untrained ordinary citizens of all ages and social status.

As in insurgent movements, combatants fight with low-technology weapons—in fact, usually arms left over from the Cold War era or, as in the case of Rwanda’s conflict in 1994, crude agricultural tools (Carnegie 1997). Most fighters in insurgent movements, however, though recruited from the citizenry, generally had a modicum of training and indoctrination and belonged to an organized faction before partaking fully in the struggle. Their common discipline and orientation allowed for concerted tactical maneuvers. In identity conflicts, in contrast, the average level of training initially is significantly lower, as many combatants are simply normal civilians motivated by a common passion and personal survival. Their level of organization, however, is less, making them prone to disorder and unbridled action. In Tajikistan, for instance, whole communes were embroiled in the fighting, involving farmers, brigade leaders, and business owners. Other than membership in mostly very young political parties and the creation of a new national guard, there was minimal preorganized structure (Brown 1992). In protracted conflicts, both organization and training appear to improve over time.

Correspondingly, the victims are also common citizens. As many as 90 percent of all casualties in such conflicts are civilians. Since much of the fighting takes place in the community across identity lines, not against tactical targets, it involves business associates, neighbors, medical professionals, and educators, as well as relatives of mixed blood. This intimate nature of today’s armed violence cuts through all relationships and structures of society. At the same time, identity conflicts produce massive numbers of refugees, equally representative of all aspects and tiers of society. Their movement exacerbates the intense disorder typical of identity conflict. International observers, including Gil Loescher, professor of international relations at the University of Notre Dame, contend that refugees affect local, regional, and international stability to an extent not known in the recent past (1993:12).

A second characteristic of identity conflict is extreme polarization of the population. From the previous era’s discernible commitment to an intellectual agenda, the seat of violence appears to have migrated to a more internal and visceral arena. This arena is found in the most fundamental characterization of self, seemingly bypassing most ideological and even moral considerations, to the single most basic element of intrinsic uniqueness—whether it be language, culture, geographic affiliation, religion, ethnicity, nationality, tribal, or some other form of deep-rooted identification. At the risk of oversimplifying for the sake of illustration, one could classify the conflicts in the former Yugoslavia and Burundi as those primarily based on ethnic heritage, while Afghanistan’s and Tajikistan’s struggles exemplify geographic allegiance, and religion plays a fundamental role in the violence in Sudan and Nagorno-Karabakh. Most conflicts entail a mix of contentious issues, such as in Sri Lanka, where language, religion, class, and geography all serve as identity divisions.

It is this most basic point of personal distinction in the individual that generates the polarization of the population between those of differing characteristics (identities). Mark Duffield, professor at the University of Birmingham, uses the term “New Racism” to describe the breakdown between individuals of differing identities:

What people feel about their culture and identity is paramount. According to contemporary racism, if people sense their way of life is threatened, it arouses deep-seated fear and hostility. . . . It does not matter whether these fears are real or imaginary: for them to be genuinely held is sufficient to threaten the national fabric. (Duffield 1996:175–76)

In and of themselves, these distinctions do not create conflict, as evident in the many years of relatively peaceful coexistence—including intermarrying—between Serb, Croat, and Muslim Bosnians, between Russian and ethnic Chechens, between Tajik Kulyabi and Garmi, and between Armenians and Azeris. When the identity distinction is either threatened or used as a basis to threaten other identity groups, however, it becomes a rallying force, creating the will to fight.

Identity is first and foremost a function of the individual, not of the group, although it has critical social implications. Unlike the collective agreement and interdependence of the trinitarian and insurgent periods, as discussed in the works of such military historians as Clausewitz, Keegan, and van Creveld, the underlying foundation for modern conflict finds companionship and motivation in others with similar feelings, but remains a personal element. Its mutuality, however, becomes the shared pivot point in the execution of collective violence inspired by a sense of group self and its distinction with respect to others. Samuel Huntington, professor of the science of government at Harvard University, similarly suggests that the world is experiencing an identity crisis in which a shift is occurring away from a more united power structure and towards multipolarism and multi-“civilization.” This neo-isolationism can lead to a “clash of civilizations.” The new unifying element, he claims, is kinship-based ties between cultural kin (1993). This is portrayed in an inverted pyramid where the least important but most plentiful elements of society sit at the top, and the single, most fundamental, lies at the bottom. In a fictional society, for instance, class, local dialect, religious denomination, skin color, and place of residence may all have some bearing on individual identity, but in this case, tribal affiliation might be the foremost identifying factor.

The widespread identity conflict that erupted in Somalia in 1990 exemplified this distillation of complex consanguinity. Somali culture is structured on a genealogical-based clan system where clan loyalty is at the root of personal survival. According to Somali scholar Milas Seifulaziz:

This [leads] to a clear hierarchy of loyalties and interests. In a society based on blood relationships, the extended family defends its interests where necessary, against other members of the sub-clan, while the elders of the sub-clan try to negotiate any disputes because of the need for the sub-clan to stand together against other sub-clans to defend its common interests and those of its component families. Sub-clans in turn, may fight among themselves, but present a common front against other clans to defend the clan interests. (Seifulaziz 1992:3)

When widespread interclan fighting escalated in Somalia in 1992, I watched as clan alliance often broke apart when subclans fought among themselves, ultimately disintegrating into the most fundamental unit of attachment, that of the extended family.

A third property of identity conflict is its roots in human emotion—often translated as repressed animosity. The targets in today’s violent struggles do not appear to be selected with calculating strategy for a political end, as they were in insurgent movements and trinitarian wars. Nor is the fighting motivated directly by profound loyalty or an allegiance to the group itself; it is not the identification itself that seems to drive the killing. Rather, the victims appear to be the subject of social opposition and separatism, driven by individual acrimony. Liberia’s civil strife, for example, built up over years of intensive animosity between tribes, erupted into fierce ethnic fighting in 1989 that resulted in tribal members consuming the body parts of their enemy (Shiner 1996).

Because the driving force of these conflicts is heightened mutual animosity—in short, feeling—rather than cognitive understanding and ideology, factions in identity conflicts do not always appear to have clear, coherent, or universal objectives. In fact, some of the chaotic nature of identity conflicts most likely stems from this lack of collective vision and organization. Combatants are civilians driven by their own personal sense of justice, making it difficult to harness their energy into a well-disciplined and organized fighting force.

This is not to say that strategy and leadership do not exist in identity conflict. On the contrary, it is often the leadership that instigates much of the fervor that propels the fighting. As the world saw in Rwanda, Burundi, and the former Yugoslavia, midlevel authorities made calculated public appeals to stir the repressed feelings of resentment into violent action. At the same time in Chechnya, Somalia, Sierra Leone, and Georgia, the leadership has played an apparent role in maintaining the sense of otherness for the purpose of continuing the battle. In fact it is often this new leadership structure, with its accompanying parallel economies, that often prolongs complex emergencies. This role of leadership, however, can be easily misconstrued as purely a play for political power. Indeed, the seductive allure of power plays an integral part of the appeal to fight and usually manifests itself in an overarching purpose. In today’s armed violence, however, it does not seem to be the lure of power that most propels the fight, but the emotional drive rooted in identity alienation.

Because such fervor demands tremendous individual energy, high-intensity identity conflicts tend to be either short-lived or characterized by intermittent bouts, followed by recuperative lulls. This pattern is corroborated by the number of conflicts in this decade that have emerged and subsequently fallen off the list of major armed conflicts (SIPRI 1996). Similarly, the identity conflicts in Somalia, Rwanda, and Burundi are ripe for eruptions into new, intense rounds of violence. This obviously contrasts with the low-intensity conflict of many insurgent movements and the long-range strategy inherent in trinitarian wars.

A fourth unique trait of identity conflict is the resultant implosion of civilized life. Though all conflict can contain fierce fighting and inhuman brutality, today’s bitter hostilities lay ruin to the most fundamental structures that make up community. As we have seen, both trinitarian war and insurgent movements united individuals around common, tangible goals. This left the foundation of the broader society relatively intact, even in defeat. In contrast, identity conflict appears to destroy the social framework, bursting it apart from the inside due to its ubiquitous nature and the extreme polarization of the population.

Given that identity conflicts are fought at the community level and among former associates of all kinds, every citizen is a potential victim and a potential combatant. Sacredness, then, becomes a casualty of violence along with respect and ritual. John Keegan observes how modern conflict has reverted to other “primitive” examples of combat, matching its ferocity and ruthlessness. “Primitives,” as he notes, however, are able to limit the nature and effects of their actions through exemption of certain members of society from the fight, through timing, place, and season of attacks, and through ritual. The latter defines the nature of combat and requires that once the ritual has been performed, both sides have recourse to conciliation, arbitration, and peacemaking (Keegan 1993). In contrast, I’ve watched as the ever-present threat of violence erodes community cohesion to a point of virtual nonexistence and a culture of fear prevails, often scattering the membership around the region.

Furthermore, the intensity of the animosity across identity lines, and the ruthlessness with which it is often expressed, seem to separate the integrated aspects of mixed cultures. Because trinitarian wars were calculating and abstract, being driven by state decision-makers, they were largely dispassionate and strategic. Similarly, insurgent movements were grounded in a principle and specific objectives. Today’s conflicts, in contrast, are rooted in the individual motivation to fight, a personal history, passion, and a primal internal force. This kind of fundamental animosity among neighbors and associates cannot help but sever relationships and destroy the fabric of society. The image of roving groups of machine-gun-toting youths in pickup trucks in the streets of Mogadishu suggests the unbound brutality that destroys any semblance of integration and amity. The accompanying picture of streets teeming with people carrying belongings and trying to escape their fellow citizens illustrates the unmistakable intensity of the fear.

A consequence of identity conflict, accordingly, is social collapse. The once-strong moral and social order that glued mixed societies together in a common culture seems to disintegrate. Without some semblance of social relationship, most societies cease to function effectively. As we have seen in Iraq, contemporary armed violence leaves scars that do not heal quickly. Moreover, solace and support from one’s neighbor or community is not readily found under such pervasive alienation and disunion.

Ironically, despite this evolution in the nature of conflict over the century, much of the world has continued to operate under the trinitarian model. During the insurgent period, for example, the bipolar politics essentially assumed this paradigm by dividing the world geographically between allies and enemies. In spite of the model’s inconsistency with the real world, the superpower agendas aimed to destroy their foe and defend their friends, whether communist or capitalist, in a trinitarian mode of self-protection (Keegan 1993). This outdated worldview, wherein “leaders of nation-states amass economic and military power to pursue objectively defined interests in zero-sum contests of material power against other nation-states” (Saunders 1996b:421), has guided most Western political and military policy-making into the post–Cold War period, as evidenced in our assumptions about the former Yugoslavia.

In trinitarian war, peace accords marked the end of hostilities, generally resulting from the triumph of one side, as in both World Wars. Upon defeat, the losers removed their forces and subjugated themselves to the victors in agreed-upon procedures. This was the final phase of the conflict, leaving only the oversight of the agreement, often by an occupying force, to complete the operation. The dispossessed, then, retreated to the confines of their own territory and nursed their wounds among themselves. Today’s scene in the former Yugoslavia shows the persistence of this pattern of reasoning. The United States sent 20,000 military troops to Bosnia and Herzegovina to help enforce the Dayton peace accord. It did so under the supposition that, as in trinitarian war, the agreement requires oversight by military force until the transition to peace is complete. The United States similarly committed to a trinitarian time frame, initially sending its troops for no longer than a year. This suggests that policymakers expected a post–World War II model of steady, rapid recovery. Though time will tell, I suspect that a marched progression to a sustained peace in the former Yugoslavia is questionable.

Under the identity conflict model, where it is the passion of the people, not state will, that incites violence, this kind of state-dictated peace ultimately does little to preserve tranquillity. According to Duffield, “Issues of power are secondary in questions of family, custom and the psychological underpinnings of identity” (1996:178). More turbid lines of control and conquest have replaced the clear victory and adherence to traditional surrender protocol of the trinitarian era. These override notions of conventional ceasefires and call for new approaches to transition to peace. (This transformation from an environment of hostility to one of peaceful coexistence under contemporary conditions will be explored further in chapter 6.)

The trinitarian war model may endure partly because it supports self-defense against outside aggression, which remains the raison d’être for most national military forces. The suggestion is not that the threat of interstate war is obsolete in the post–Cold War era. In fact, the potential for international violence has become more complex with nuclear proliferation, chemical and biological warfare capacities, and the growth in state-associated terrorist groups. It is this ever-present, however small, risk to nationhood that legitimizes the maintenance of some configuration of a defensive military posture. Nevertheless, as we have seen, the reality of the contemporary international environment does not support the probability of significant interstate combat. As Harold Saunders explains, “Our increasing experience of the complex interdependence of today’s world causes us to think beyond a system focused mainly on the nation-state” (1996b:421).

Another reason for the endurance of the trinitarian model is that the notion of responding principally and repeatedly to internal foreign conflicts has not been wholly accepted by the Western troops themselves. The sentiment and expectations of the armed forces, built up over nearly a century of preparation for outside aggression, are understandably resistant to change. Political and military policymakers, moreover, lack an equivalent, actuality-based model to fit the current global scenario, which itself retards any move away from the comfortable trinitarian paradigm. All this said, as the post–Cold War era evolves we may now be seeing the birth of a new doctrine. One sign is the U.S. military’s significant professionalization in its new role as humanitarian protectors in complex emergencies. Another sign of changing times is the U.S. government’s current reconsideration of its age-old doctrine stating it must be prepared to fight two wars simultaneously. Undoubtedly, unforeseen events will propel us to continue to adjust our philosophy as we roll into the twenty-first century.

In sum, I argue that the world has seen three shifts in the character of conflicts fought on its surface since the beginning of the century. Where conflict was once ideological and international, the predominant armed violence is now identity-based and intranational; once conducted on battlefields with trained soldiers, or remotely with high-technology weapon systems, conflict is now fought in communities by local citizens using basic weaponry in intimate combat. In this form of combat, community members regardless of age, sex, or status become immersed in the battle with neighbors, business partners, and long-term associates.

The type of conflict that has dominated the 1990s is born of divisions in society and thrives on their expansion. It is loosely analogous to the growth of a prolific, noxious weed. Increased segregation and worsening cross-identity relations are the soil that germinates misunderstanding and disconnection. The seeds of the animosity are sown when negative aspects of society are attributed to other identity groups. Yet it is the individual sentiment learned from experience and the personalization of the animosity that fertilizes the seeds and makes them grow. Personal differentiation is cultivated by its mutuality and nurtured by leadership encouragement and justification in tangible terms. The animosity then blooms into full-fledged violence, sending its seeds throughout the area to multiply and spread, thwarting benevolent growth in the process. Some of these seeds, then, carry to other parts of the country and outside its borders via human migration, further strewing malevolence around the region. The result, as scholar and conflict resolution expert Hizkias Assefa describes, is “community disruption, cultural alienation, disconnectedness, wide-spread misery and degradation, especially of the least fortunate” (1993:39).

Conditions That Foster Identity Conflict

It is difficult to conceive of conditions and factors that are so abhorrent as to breed the extreme brutality found in such identity conflicts as Rwanda. Despite an extensive search for the biological, psychological, or social rationale that induces aggressive behavior, no one has yet proven that collective violence is inherent or a given of human nature (van Creveld 1991). Nevertheless, it is vital that we continue to examine the factors that may bring about such action, particularly in light of the extreme nature of modern conflict.

Earlier theorists discussed the conditions for the outbreak of violence in terms of such variables as the risk-taking propensity of leaders, expected utility of war, capabilities, and alliances (Dougherty and Pfaltzgraff 1981; Knorr and Rosenau 1969; Voutira and Brown 1995). Though such variables are still relevant, today’s relatively unrehearsed violence, based more on personal than political vendettas, involves less of this type of rational preparation. Identity conflict seems to stem more from a nonrational, nonlinear, emotionally driven impulse. Although planning and careful calculation no doubt are integral to identity conflicts, the grassroots force behind the violence is seemingly spontaneous. Personal motives and issues of power appear to combine to form a complicated internal struggle that even the combatants themselves cannot necessarily decipher. It would be a grave error, therefore, to mistake the conditions of past wars for those that prevail today.

Scholars have proposed many motives for war. Three of these appear applicable to identity conflict: denial of rights, economic disparity, and elite manipulation. (These can also be applied to, and may even derive from, the insurgent movement period.) Two more motives, historical vendettas and growth in social chaos, are more contemporary phenomena observable in identity conflict. Consideration of the circumstances of modern conflict, however, makes it clear that none of these explanations by itself is adequately comprehensive or sufficient, and that further research is essential to understanding the basis for today’s violence and the means to address it.

Fundamental Denial of Rights

Rights are something that ostensibly apply to all individuals but, nevertheless, are more difficult to acquire for some than others. Political scientist Ted Robert Gurr maintains there are four dimensions of grievances that spark conflict: political autonomy, political rights, economic rights, and social and cultural rights (Gurr 1993). In an extension of his view, these grievances may take the form of politics of exclusion, restrictions on ethnic or religious expression, laws limiting cultural or linguistic practice, denial of political legitimacy, or possibly artificial geographic boundaries imposed during the imperialist era and maintained as a method of control.

Indeed, one could find evidence of denial of rights in many identity conflicts. Unfair treatment based on ethnicity, religion, culture, race, or other elements of personal identification often help cultivate the passions necessary to drive modern conflicts. However, where insurgent movements of the past may have been built around such claims to individual and group rights, in today’s conflicts these claims seem to serve more to increase the sense of otherness and enhance animosity toward those outside the identity group. In contrast to Gurr’s supposition, moreover, the denial of such rights may not be a necessary ingredient of identity conflict. While grievances of various types may be an underlying factor, they are not the determining motivation.

Economic Disparity

Many scholars contend that competition for resources increases as the division between rich and poor grows. Accordingly, in areas and periods of abject poverty, competition among the poor contributes to greater tension between groups and may develop into scapegoating and violence (Cuny 1991; Harff 1993).

Certainly, adverse economic conditions and contention over jobs, land, money, and assets can contribute to the development of identity conflicts. Here again, however, the cause and effect may be indirect. In the insurgent era, economic disparity characteristically aroused revolutionary fervor in the underclass, starting movements under the banner of greater economic opportunity (Gurr 1970). In contemporary armed violence, poor economic conditions merely serve to stoke the embers of enmity and retribution growing in individuals; they do not constitute a necessary foundation for identity conflicts. Even in 1985, Donald Horowitz, in his book Ethnic Groups in Conflict, suggested that the relationship between economic rivalry and ethnic conflict is not only difficult to establish but that some aspects of economic antagonism are actually impeded by ethnic pluralism. Though not entirely absent among the poor, economic friction is more a reality at the upper levels than the lower levels of a developing society (Horowitz 1985).

Elite Manipulation

One long-held theory suggests that the acts of mass violence actually stem from provocation on the part of the social elite (Harff 1993). In this view, the privileged few incite collective action against a perceived antagonist for their own purposes. Essential for success, presumably, is the ability of the leaders to convince the population that the movement will have broad popular benefit and is not simply a maneuver in their pursuit of personal power. During the insurgent period, when ideology was paramount to the struggle, creating the will to fight entailed the development of a strong just cause (Gurr 1970). Cuba in the 1950s is a prime example: a small guerrilla group, largely from the urban middle class and led by Fidel Castro, gradually gained greater and greater support from the peasantry and eventually took power and installed redistributive economic policies favoring the poor (Zolberg, Suhrke, and Aguayo 1989:185).

Public manipulation by powerful individuals also appears to be a significant factor in identity conflicts. In Bosnia and Rwanda, for instance, instigators used radio, newspaper, and other forms of public information to stir up long-held ethnic frustrations and hostilities. Over a period of time, the agitation grew into an obsession with taking up arms (Ransdell 1994). Under the identity conflict model, it appears that the extreme elements were led by those driven by a specific view of the country’s relationships among ethnic groups.

Close observation reveals that in this respect, as in others, the process today differs from that of previous forms of conflict. The real motive behind the manipulation appears to stem from the contention itself, though sustained and encouraged by the leaders’ personal concern with their own accumulation of power. Whereas in insurgent movements the drive for ascendancy may have been accompanied by a sincere belief in an ideology (Gurr 1970), in identity conflicts elites seem to use shared animosity to incite popular uprising. In both cases, the initial motivation may be overwhelmed by the lure of power. In insurgent movements, elites, driven by the vision of political change, agitated civilians to take action. In identity conflicts, leaders expressly attempt to control social interaction by dictating appropriate inter-identity behavior. In both forms of conflict, the allure of power—whether political or social—may become an end in itself.

The elites in identity conflicts do not necessarily come from the upper reaches of society or from national political circles. Instead, they are often middle-level citizens who have a personal agenda, charisma, and a strong will that support their leadership role. Laurent Kabila, leader of the 1997 armed takeover of Zaire, for example, despite some earlier insurgent activity, had been essentially a common citizen for thirty years prior to the October uprising in South Kivu. According to former special envoy Robert Oakley, Somali warlord Mohammed Farah Aidid was simply a shrewd clan leader with a knack for organization (McNeil 1996).

Moreover, the role of elites in insurgent movements was both to garner support for the struggle and to continue educating, supplying the intellectual foundation, championing the cause, and planning the political strategy. African liberation theologists Kwame Nkrumah, Patrice Lumumba, and Amilcar Cabral, for instance, offered both charismatic and intellectual leadership in Africa’s liberation theology, creating and leading an educated following toward a political and ideological goal. Elites in identity conflicts, in contrast, seem to simply attempt to harness the enormous energy engendered by their provocation of identity fervor. Once the conflict reaches a certain scale, their efforts are devoted to steering the unbound hostilities as much as possible, trying to direct the course of events.

Long-held Historical Vendettas

I derive this explanation for armed violence directly from my experience with contemporary conflicts, where differences in identity that marked social, political, and even economic interaction for decades become the focus of intense animosity. Since the end of the Cold War, old disputes that have lain essentially dormant over the course of the last generation now appear to be awakening with a literal vengeance. As a result, societies that have lived in relative peaceful coexistence suddenly find that prejudices born even centuries earlier and carried forth in muted tones through the generations now have renewed vigor. Many identity conflicts today, such as in the former Yugoslavia, Liberia, Tajikistan, Rwanda, Burundi, Sudan, Ethiopia, Georgia, Nigeria, Azerbaijan, and Armenia, are rooted in earlier disputes.

Although this is clearly one of the conditions of contemporary armed violence, it is equally apparent that the presence of historical intergroup rivalry is not necessarily a predictor of conflict. Kyrgyzstan, for instance, though surrounded by other new states afflicted with contention and possessed of the same ingredients for ethnic turmoil, appears to be succeeding in maintaining a peacefully diverse society. It may be the presence of other ingredients that cause some identity-diverse cultures to succumb to armed conflict, while other equally varied societies live in accommodating fellowship.

Growth in General Social Chaos

A final theory of the motive for violence is perhaps the most conjectural as well as expansive. It is the notion that, on the whole, today’s rapidly changing societal dynamics may simply be too great for—and consequently overwhelm—social systems of the past. The consequence can be social chaos.

In all but the most remote cultures, access to information through the media, computer links, advertising, personal interaction, and written communication has skyrocketed. The post–Cold War global dynamic has opened up economic markets and significantly decreased previous international restrictions on communication and cultural exchange. Urban residents in particular are exposed to a greater variety of material goods, fashions, music, ideologies, religions, politics, and technologies. They face more choices in lifestyle, dress, occupation, leisure activity, food, and living location than ever before. At the same time, the exponential increase in global population puts greater pressure on land, infrastructures, natural resources, cities, and social structures.

These changes can wear thin the social fabric that has traditionally provided strong guidance—sometimes to the point of severe restriction—from government authority, community unity, ideological allegiance, tribal and regional loyalty, and solid family ties. As a result, many young people from rural backgrounds are more likely to seek jobs in the city than to continue the family pastoral or agricultural way of life. They become torn between traditional cultural values and lifestyles, and an alien but seductive new way of life.

Throughout the world, the sheer pace of these changes and exposure to new information is dizzying. Without the direction of traditional structures, the changes create resistance, confusion, dislocation, and anxiety, and may lead to a sense of insecurity. At that point, it seems, individuals turn to their most basic attachment, that of their identity group. Far from a conscious decision, the mutual contraction into the familiar is simply a human reaction to the perceived threat of the unknown. As individuals gradually coalesce under the banner of their identity group, greater social divisions develop. This protectionism based on self-preservation can spawn scapegoating and inter-identity violence, as different identity groups cast accusations of blame for social problems at each other. Eventually, such mutual animosity can progress to unrest and violence.

The processes of national growth, according to political scientists Nazli Choucri and Robert North, are likely to lead to expansion, competition, rivalry, conflict, and violence (Dougherty and Pfaltzgraff 1981). Today, this is perhaps most evident in the transitional governments of former communist countries where the change is more abrupt and therefore disruptive. For these states, the transformation into free-market, democratic societies, many after nearly seventy-five years of communism, has been convoluted and unnerving. The experience of economic disruption and deteriorating conditions spurs disenchantment, while the exposure to new products, social and political structures, and models for interaction contributes to greater disillusionment. Under such conditions, newly consolidated identity groups have become more assertive and governments more repressive in an effort to quell the tension (Mills 1995). The resultant scapegoating coincides with increasing xenophobia, contributing to even greater identity divisions and proclivity to intergroup violence.

In Tajikistan, for instance, the rapid disintegration of the USSR brought a wealth of new life to the once-isolated communities. Seemingly overnight the population was introduced to different cultures that presented entirely new models for social interaction, exotic products, and unfamiliar political dynamics. In my own observation of this process, it appeared that the exposure to new ideas and lifestyles introduced questions of identity and ethnic roots, examination of religious beliefs, exploration of other philosophies, and the lure of material goods, creating pulls in different directions.

The conditions that foster identity conflict are by no means absolute or distinct. Clearly, more than one may be in place at the same time, such as when leaders use historical vendettas to stir up identity animosity. Moreover, a plethora of other forces may in fact influence the generation or reduction of enmity, as in imperative intergroup cooperation for mutual survival, geographic conditions such as topography and climate (which limit or promote access to certain areas), or the injection of regional support from sympathetic groups. Finally, this discussion is merely a preliminary survey of leading circumstances that may cultivate identity conflict; further scrutiny is clearly in order. By studying the conditions that lend themselves to armed violence, we may be better able to predict its development. Such an inquiry logically leads to a discussion of the eradication of conflict.

The Elimination and Preclusion of Conflict

The world’s short experience with identity conflict offers little in the way of research on or illustrations of the termination or prevention of such violence. Some considerations, however, can be adopted from past forms of strife and others deduced from knowledge of the fundamental traits of identity conflict. I offer four factors that particularly seem to affect the continuation of armed violence: the capacity to tolerate diversity, eradication of the conditions for conflict, change in the circumstances of conflict, and the level of suffering and exhaustion.

Tolerance for Diversity

This explanation suggests that the prevention and ending of hostilities in identity conflict fundamentally emanates out of the personal will to tolerate otherness. It is the reduction in animus that sustains a prolonged peace. In this view, therefore, a lasting ceasefire, by definition, must be initiated by the antagonists themselves. This may develop through the visualization of a leader, back-channel negotiations, or a strategic collapse, says Helena Meyer-Knapp, author of Cease Fire! (forthcoming). Before such steps are taken, however, she contends that the negotiators must believe in the prospects for repatriation, prisoner release, and reparation. More fundamentally, because the motivation behind these conflicts lies within the individual, it follows that there must be sincere widespread desire on the parts of participants to coexist peacefully; the will to end hostilities cannot rest solely with the leadership.

Suspension of the violence, once achieved, is precarious. At once, the suffering and exhaustion that formed the incentive for ceasefire subside, and the lingering horrors of combat eventually give way to the demands of rehabilitation. At the same time, the means for renewed combat remain indefinitely in the form of massive weapons. (Even the huge disarmament campaign that the international forces conducted where I worked in Somalia seemed to do little to diminish the number of weapons in the area.) Moreover, the original enmity presumably lies just below the surface, requiring only minimal stimulation to reemerge into action. (Chapter 6 will explore the process of developing conditions of tolerance, including remorse, grievance, remuneration, equality, and justice.)

Eradication of Conditions for Conflict

One might presume that eradication of the roots of identity conflict would preclude its development. As we saw in the previous section, however, most conditions contribute to violent outbreak only so far as they generate mutual animosity toward others; it is the enmity itself that stirs the will to fight. Nevertheless, amelioration of economic disparity and furthering individual rights may contribute to the prevention or decline in hostilities simply by reducing the stimulation of hostile feelings. Similarly, limiting the influence of incendiary leaders would logically have a strong effect, especially over the development, but also over the continuation, of identity conflicts. Once inflamed, however, and particularly after sustained violence, hostile sentiments may not disappear readily, even in the absence of urging from leaders.

The presence of historical vendettas is undoubtedly not easily remedied. Still, even years of bad blood need not develop into outright aggression. One can observe that without stimulation, many long-held grievances continue to lie dormant or even subside. Restructuring constitutional rights or allowing greater minority participation can potentially also reduce individual animosity. Restoring educational opportunity for the Albanian population in Kosovo, for example, could well have reduced the tensions in the region long enough to avert the violent uprising that began in May 1998. However, once the age-old contention is reactivated with a new round of violence, the emotional fervor seems likely to linger, adding chapters to the historical dispute.

Even more remote is the hope of affecting the rate and form of social evolution. The complexities of the modern world are the result of innumerable influences, and far beyond the scope of prevention. However, society’s tools for handling change, including social institutions, public support systems, informational guidance, and intergroup communication, may help reduce the level of confusion and promote intergroup tolerance. Precautionary measures might entail development of civil society components to address social change issues, increasing integration of identity groups throughout society, encouraging open dialogue on a wide variety of issues, or developing grievance forums for discussion of divisive problems. Simple amelioration of circumstances that foster identity violence, however, does not necessarily preclude or eliminate conflict.

Change in the Circumstances of Conflict

At times in the past, a significant change in the particulars of a conflict has contributed to the end of violence. For example, a clear military victory abruptly ending the violence naturally affects the relationship between the opposing groups. The clear-cut triumph in Rwanda, for instance, reversed the balance of power and, at least temporarily, halted major aggression. Similarly, high-level negotiated settlements have led to long-lasting ceasefires, whether they are peace agreements addressing issues of borders, constitutional rights, or the division of power, or simply a cessation in hostilities (Creative Associates 1997). This looked to be the case in Mozambique in 1992, when peace accords suspended the major fighting (USCR 1995). Elections, too, can shift the focus from armed violence to orderly political contention, as seen in the electoral victory of Violeta Chamorro in Nicaragua and the subsequent end to the Contra rebellion. Further, one side may simply grant concessions to the opposition, allowing greater plurality or giving up increments of power. Should the state of affairs change abruptly, displaced populations may begin to return, transforming the social dynamics. (This will be discussed in greater detail in chapter 5.)

Such changes in the state of affairs, however, do not seem to adequately address the dynamics of identity conflicts. While settlements over ideological or political issues may have appealed directly to the source of contention in earlier eras, it appears that they do little to appease the enmity that drives contemporary armed violence. Both military victory and political verbal agreement, I believe, ignore the deep-seated roots of contention. As a result, the seeds of hostility remain and are likely to reemerge in the near future, as exemplified in the resumption of violence in Rwanda, Angola, and Zaire/Congo in 1997 and 1998.

Suffering and Exhaustion

The primary ingredient leading to a ceasefire, according to Meyer-Knapp, is the level of agony endured by the civilian population. Not only must the parties have reached their endurance limit of war’s torment, but they must be willing to break the taboo of silence and let their anguish and weariness be known (Meyer-Knapp, forthcoming). As in previous types of conflict, the level of suffering appears to be an important determinant in identity conflicts as well. In the past, however, suffering took the form of human and material loss, destitution, displacement, misery of daily life, and basic combat-weariness from exposure to constant violence. Although these elements undoubtedly exist in today’s conflicts as well, another and perhaps greater source of distress comes from sheer emotional exhaustion. Identity conflict may come to an end when personal fatigue and indifference overcome the fervor that motivates the violence. This is not to say, however, that the enmity will not rise again after a short respite.

A Close Look at Complex Emergencies

Complex emergencies can be considered a negative outgrowth of whole bodies politic in that they involve nearly all aspects of society, including significant military, anthropological, sociological, geographic, civil, environmental, human rights, and economic elements. Fundamentally, however, they result from the convergence of political and humanitarian crises, and as such may be thought of as fallout from identity conflicts.

The complex emergency is an international problem receiving some of the highest intellectual, public, and political attention and consuming significant outlays of global resources. As is evident in the focus such emergencies receive at worldwide conferences, diplomatic meetings, international forums, and the media, their effect on international relationships, regional development, and individuals alike has made them an overwhelming priority on the international agenda. Although, technically, complex emergencies could and did exist during the previous conflict eras (e.g., the Sudan crisis, 1955–1972; Biafra, 1967–1970; Uganda, 1981–1985; and Ethiopia, 1984–1992), the surge in interest corresponds to the increase in identity conflict since the end of the Cold War. The rise in identity conflict, in turn, coincides with the plethora of complex emergencies in the early part of the decade.

These concerns are fed by global satellite imagery, which illustrates how the repercussions from complex emergencies reverberate throughout society, influencing all aspects of regional, national, and communal life and directly affecting future development. The resulting problems have recently become the focus of many academics, policymakers, and practitioners, who have contributed several volumes of new material on the subject. This embryonic literature is scattered throughout the disciplines of political science, psychology, sociology, international relations, environmental studies, conflict studies, and human rights.

Political Ramifications

The concern of some in the international community lies in the overall chaos that permeates the region in a complex emergency. An identity conflict evolves into a complex emergency when political upheaval and continual violence lead to famine, casualties, deprivation of access to resources, destruction of land and infrastructure, and mass migration. Carried far enough, as in Somalia, this process may cause the existing system of government to collapse, which eliminates any possibility of state-directed humanitarian protection or assistance. Mass migrations across international boundaries further disrupt any sense of control and create subsequent regional threats to national stability. Other political casualties can include due process of law, pluralism in government and decision-making, civilian police protection, civil liberties, parliamentary procedures, human rights preservation, and, ultimately, civil society itself (Creative Associates 1997; Kumar et al. 1996; Nordlander 1993; USCR 1995).

Economic and Food Security Concerns

Armed violence frequently destroys food production capacity, resources, and the national economic base, which is another focus of international attention. National markets, local trade, business, agriculture, and manufacturing all fall prey to disruption in commerce, ruined physical structures, diversion to fighting units, loss of human resources, and inundation of foreign goods. International exchange is often a first casualty, sometimes due to sanctions and often through disruption in production and foreign commerce. National revenues consequently plummet (Creative Associates 1997; de Waal 1993; Frohardt 1994).

Even if domestic capital remains largely intact, the government now diverts huge sums away from normal expenditures (including public assistance) in order to support the conflict. In countries dependent on imported goods, food supplies may be severely restricted. As a result of the economic decline, many people suffer critical loss of income, making access to available foodstuffs difficult. Experts in the humanitarian community, therefore, are concerned with the resulting decrease in agricultural production, limited transportation, and decline in imported goods, which can create famine-like conditions and induce hoarding. If humanitarian assistance is available, it often becomes the new economic base and even subsumes the old value structure, replacing once-cherished goods with relief supplies (Anderson 1996a, 1996b; Cuny 1991; Maynard 1994).

According to scholar Alex de Waal (1993), there are three reasons why conflict creates famine. First, fighting units consume large amounts of food and destroy the agricultural and production base. Armed fighters often requisition food to supply their own needs—both from civilian populations and from food aid shipments. In 1986, for instance, as much as 88 percent of the food aid intended for Somali refugees never reached its destination; much of it was redirected toward the army and local militias (de Waal 1993:33). The stereotypical looting and pillaging known of soldiers and combatants also plays a part in inducing famines. The damaged fields from indiscriminant movements of fighting units and the scourge of land mines contribute to the ruin of agriculture and livestock. In addition, the large number of young men volunteering or forced to fight depletes the population of agricultural hands, causing a decrease in production.

Second, as noted earlier, famine is often an instrument of battle. De Waal describes the tactics as sieges, in which armed units systematically prevent food from reaching civilians, and counterinsurgency campaigns in which they destroy the means of food production, manipulate trade, and control population movements, including forced relocation. Third, the ruling political and economic structure of the country, which feeds the militias, may systematically strip the assets of the population. Zaire’s military during the Mobutu era, as an example, routinely plundered civilians in lieu of payment they never received from the ruling kleptocracy.

Humanitarian Consequences

The humanitarian concerns develop in complex emergencies when physical life is threatened. Though not universally defined as such, humanitarianism, in the strictest sense, addresses issues of human survival, such as malnourishment, homelessness, physical injury, or sickness. Conventional relief generally falls into the categories of shelter, water, food, medical care, and sanitation. While physical suffering has always been a component of disasters, the emergence of complex emergencies with identity conflicts has brought other humanitarian concerns to the agenda. These include nonphysical aspects, such as psychological care, social welfare, conflict management, and human rights, as well as indirect physical effects such as the degradation of the environment as a result of massive population movements, chemical contamination, and land mines. Such issues have direct bearing on the broader context of human welfare. These are relatively new additions to the humanitarian equation, and much less is known and written about their long-term effect or appropriate intercessions (Maynard 1997).

Literature addressing the physical aspects of complex emergencies, however, is abundant. It is well-recognized, for instance, that the burning of homes not only begets problems of shelter but spawns migration, creating refugee and IDP situations. Similarly, practitioners have witnessed how disruption in the water supply through deliberate or indirect sabotage imperils daily existence. When canals, pipes, pumps, and wells are destroyed or contaminated, secondary, often inferior or insufficient sources are used, inviting disease and death. In addition, famines may result from slaughtered livestock, destroyed crops, impaired irrigation, scarcity of farming tools, disruption in livestock migration routes, dearth of labor, negligible harvest, food hoarding, escalating food prices, migrant populations, lack of adequate transportation to distribute crops, or damaged road systems (Creative Associates 1997; Cuny 1991). Most of these factors were present in Sudan in 1998 at the onset of a new cycle of disastrous famine.

Health Implications

Violent conflict not only causes injuries requiring immediate treatment but can destroy health centers and hospitals, kill or force health workers to flee, disrupt vaccination campaigns, and ruin water and sanitation systems. Humanitarian workers know that disease spreads more rapidly in the close quarters of overcrowded homes housing displaced relatives, and in IDP and refugee camps. The massive cholera epidemic in the newly established refugee camps in Zaire in 1994 provided graphic evidence of this. Insufficient and imbalanced nutrition accompanied by inadequate water intake and quality, and inferior shelter from the weather lowers resistance to disease. The incidence of sexually transmitted disease, including HIV, also frequently rises, given the high probability of rape and unprotected sex (Jean 1995; Kumar et al. 1996).

Consequences on Vulnerable Populations

The humanitarian community is increasingly aware that certain sectors of the population are at greater risk than others. Combat is a man’s domain, in the sense that men are still predominantly both the targets and the combatants. Consequently, the greatest percentage of casualties is male. In contrast, women and children make up 80 percent of all displaced populations (Loescher 1993). Children are patently more vulnerable in complex emergencies than are adults, but also have special concerns as family dependents. One of the repercussions of violent attack and mass migration is separation of family members, which results in numerous unaccompanied children whose parents have been killed, injured, taken prisoner, or somehow lost in the confusion (Kumar et al. 1996). Women, moreover, have their own needs as the objects of rape during battle, or as sudden heads of households upon the death of the male members of the family. In addition, the elderly are at risk when extended families disintegrate and they, like children sometimes, are incapable of caring for themselves (Deng 1993; Kumar et al. 1996; Sollis 1994; U.S. Mission 1995).

Psychosocial Repercussions

Beyond these physical matters, psychological trauma often affects a larger percentage of the population, as violence becomes more intimate. Children and women are especially vulnerable, as both the object and witness of attack. “War also impacts child development, distorting attitudes towards other members of society as well as moral and ethical value,” writes scholar Peter Sollis (1994:15). Internecine violence, moreover, demolishes the normal patterns of daily life, creating greater confusion, distrust, and apprehension about future prospects. The more seriously traumatized are often unable to provide for themselves or others and may become marginalized, requiring continual, long-term care (Kumar et al. 1996; Maynard 1997).

The widespread upheaval that virtually destroys social cohesion also damages the conventional support structures that may aid psychosocial recovery. Intense violence can impair traditional welfare safety nets for disadvantaged or dependent individuals, suspend formal education, and severely disrupt public health programs, as practitioners, academics, and policymakers alike now recognize. These institutions, along with the family unit, comprise much of the psychological and social support in a typical society. In the pervasiveness of identity conflicts, however, both institutional and familial sources of succor may be rendered incapable of providing adequate assistance. At the same time, conflict remains an undercurrent in the society and undermines recovery efforts. In such situations where the indigenous ability to handle conflict has deteriorated, complex emergencies are notoriously prolonged (Creative Associates 1997; Kumar et al. 1996; Rupesinghe 1991).

Human Rights Issues

Human rights issues also come to the fore in identity conflicts as a result of vengeance being played out on all sides, with no regard for law or morality. Abuse may occur at the highest as well as the lowest levels of society, and may be committed by individuals, factions, government, or military personnel. Such abuses may be used as an intimidation tactic against an identity group or as a method of eliminating specific individuals. Increasingly, it is also a tactic used by displaced populations, themselves, to prevent return or intimidate the resident authorities and civilians (Kumar et al. 1996; Mills 1995; Roberts 1993).

Human rights violations are most likely to occur closest to the area of combat, where disorder and animosity are the greatest. With the exception of safe havens, zones of tranquillity and other safe areas, international protection against abuse is minimal for those inside the country, including IDPs, returnees, and common citizens, in contrast to refugees who remain outside the border and are under the guardianship of the UN High Commissioner for Refugees (Cuny 1991; Deng 1993; UNHCR 1993a). (The well-known case of the safe haven in Srebenica, Bosnia, wherein scores of people were abused and massacred is a tragic reversal of this concept of protection.)

Environmental Repercussions

Lastly, the impact of complex emergencies on the environment is yet another, though distant, consideration on the periphery of relief circles. Although visible to any observer, serious ecological repercussions from extreme violence are just beginning to receive formal recognition from the international community. Humanitarian practitioners have frequently witnessed the destruction or pollution of water sources, burned acreage, and contamination resulting from the demolition of warehouses, factories, and transportation equipment containing chemical products. In addition, displaced populations overuse water supplies, denude trees for shelter and firewood, trample fragile areas from overcrowding, poison the water table and vegetation due to the poor quality or absence of sanitation facilities, deplete edible plant varieties, and contribute to garbage pollution.

These various factors form part of a more refined understanding of the nature and consequence of complex emergencies, as evidenced in the growing literature on these subjects. The elevated awareness also corresponds to new approaches in the international response to complex emergencies. (These will be discussed in depth in chapter 7.)

Severity Factors and the Example of Rwanda

I propose that the severity of human suffering in a complex emergency is affected largely by four factors. The first is the length of incubation prior to the onset of a humanitarian crisis. Ostensibly, the longer the incubation time, the greater the decline in the economy, public health, physical infrastructure such as water, sanitation and heating systems, and the like. This may be partly attributable to a shift in fiscal expenditures from social programs to military buildup. The second factor is the number and extent of compounding ingredients such as drought, floods, political elections, or a dramatic drop in commodity exports. Some contributing factors may themselves produce a humanitarian emergency, while others can serve to complicate the root problems and draw attention away from efforts to solve them, thus increasing the risk of human suffering.

A third consideration is the degree of upheaval during the emergency, such as the scale of political disintegration or population displacement. Ultimately, severe disorder can hide serious human rights violations, complicate efforts to ameliorate the situation, and cause new humanitarian dilemmas such as children abandoned during successive population movements. Finally, the speed, appropriateness, and adequacy of the humanitarian response is a fourth determinant of the severity of human suffering. Immediate and suitable assistance can stem the humanitarian deterioration by providing food, water, sanitation, shelter, and medical and social care to those in need.

A brief examination of the complex emergency in Rwanda illustrates the impact of some of these factors. This synopsis and analysis is derived from my own experience as a member of OFDA’s Disaster Assistance Response Team during the 1994 crisis and my research conducted under Study 4 of the Joint Evaluation of Emergency Assistance to Rwanda (Kumar et al. 1996). It also comes from many journal articles, newspaper reports, relief agency literature, books, interviews, and discussions that have emerged from the crisis.

Brief Overview

The genocide that devastated Rwanda between April and July 1994 erupted suddenly out of what appeared to be exemplary development conditions unfettered by major obstacles (save for a modest drought in the Southwest). Behind the scenes, however, for the preceding three years, leaders had been agitating the public, military and paramilitary contingents were developing combat methodology, a radio station had broadcast hate messages to incite interethnic violence, and tension between the two ethnic groups was clearly growing. This ethnic rivalry had surfaced thirty years earlier as a result of a power struggle that culminated in long-term refugees, perpetual animosity, and occasional severe fighting.

When violence did erupt on April 6, 1994, massacres spread throughout the capital city within hours and eventually overran the country. Whole communities moved around the countryside in mass migrations, the largest in human history. The extreme nature of the fighting and the speed with which it spread created tremendous chaos and disorientation. The fighting was marked by the use of machetes as the primary—though inefficient—weapon and the sheer number of people compelled to participate by those inciting the violence. The ultimate climax in the crisis came as an unprecedented million people streamed across the Zaire border, most within a 24-hour period.

The response of other nations was slow and inappropriate. Regional and international reaction was virtually nonexistent during the fighting, in which 800,000 people were massacred. Despite many diplomatic missions and development personnel in the country before the outbreak, few early-warning bells had sounded with any force. (The coming of a major uprising was apparent to some who were watching the developments from outside. To many living inside the country, however, the very fact of the massacres came as a surprise. In fact, Rwanda had recently been internationally displayed as a model of development and a success for peacemaking. Though hindsight has illuminated many warning signals, virtually no one claims to have predicted the extent and level of fighting that eventually took place.) The UN peacekeeping forces stationed in the country were drawn down from 2,500 to a meager 270 during the violence, leaving them virtually helpless. ICRC and the NGO Médecins Sans Frontières maintained a small crew throughout the siege. Not until France, under a UN resolution, attempted to contain some of the fighting in sections of the country did the international community react. In July, as hoards of people fled into Zaire, the victors (also the primary victims of the massacres) declared a ceasefire. At this point, international aid poured into the new refugee camps and gradually into Rwanda itself.

The assistance that emerged was largely conventional relief aid targeted primarily toward, in descending order, refugees, IDPs, returnees, and the resident population. Although the crisis clearly involved human rights violations, attention to these concerns was much delayed. Similarly, psychosocial assistance was an afterthought, despite the obvious destruction of the social fabric and resulting trauma. Furthermore, the dearth of attention paid to the resident citizens and nonmobile victims of the conflict left huge portions of the population languishing.

Analysis

In the case of Rwanda, the severity of the disaster was extreme, despite the lack of compounding factors. The more than three years of incubation had provided certain leaders time to inflame ethnic rivalry, create an emotional appeal for concerted action, garner professional and popular support, develop capacity, and plan combat tactics. When chaos did break out, the speed and nature of the fighting and the scale of participation in it exacerbated the mayhem. The overwhelming size of the human migration was the final component of unprecedented disorder. Finally, the lack of immediate international response simply compounded the problems. The delay of specific types of aid to address the conflict elements helped sustain the level of acrimony, reducing the potential for repatriation and reparation.

The Rwanda example, despite its exceptional barbarism and extreme repercussions, provides some insight into the evolution of identity conflict into a complex emergency. Clearly, the nature of complex emergencies affects all levels and aspects of society. One of the obvious consequences, illustrated in graphic form in the Rwanda case, is the number and nature of mass migrations. The following chapter looks at the conditions of conflict and complex emergencies that spawn displacement, and the social change that occurs among the uprooted, which eventually affects other aspects of society.