WikiLeaks Disclosure Sets off Defensive Posture in the International Politics of Pakistan.

The recent news on Pakistan’s international relations that came out of the latest WikiLeaks document cache has been remarkably easy to bear.  Nothing untoward has happened.  All the players have played their parts. International politics between the U.S and Pakistan continues in recognizably similar ways as it did yesterday, and the day before.  Of course, strategic politics has nakedly come to the fore and understandably so; the real news however is non-news--that though everyone has grumbled, moaned, they have all walked away into their own corners of politics and chicanery to hold onto their share of power in Pakistan.

Indeed, each partisan to Pakistan’s politics is doing its best to preserve necessary ties while claiming priority for its own prerogative.  The media is leading the charge here, and both the central government in Islamabad and its U.S allies are on the defensive. The right is blaming President Asif Ali Zardari, pointing to Saudi King Abdullah’s criticism of the political situation in Pakistan—a rather veiled threat? -- that “when the head is rotten, it affects the whole body.”  The left and the center in Pakistani politics, the majority of Pakistanis therefore, are talking about sovereignty as they have always done. Already, judging by a series of opinion polls conducted by organizations like Pew Research and the New American Foundation over the summer, Pakistanis distrust the U.S intervention in Pakistan and blame the U.S squarely for the intensifying drone attacks in the tribal regions.  The new revelations that the U.S. had been intent on removing enriched uranium from a nuclear site and therefore, had been intervening in Pakistan’s favorite national capability, its nuclear arsenal, can only inflame that distrust and disdain.

So far, the Zardari administration in Islamabad has been loath to deal with the rightists in Pakistani politics.  Thus the right-leaning English language newspaper, The News front page piece chiding President Zardari drew an unsurprisingly mild response from the executive office: Zardari claimed that King Abdullah is like his older brother.  ”Call me names”, he seemed to say, “and I will turn the other cheek.”  He might well have added that he is doing this to maintain his precarious grip on power.

Consider that Zardari needs to brush aside this offensive rebuke. Hardliner Saudi Wahhabis help fund the Taliban in Pakistan, as much as they do in Afghanistan. Perhaps to contain the domestic criticism laid against him, King Abdullah spoke to appease the homebred Wahhabis; perhaps not. There is no doubt, however, that Zardari bowed before King Abdullah in order to staunch as much of the runaway support of the right as he can.  In order to not fall in the way of his democratically elected predecessor, and current opposition leader, Nawaz Sharif he needs to kowtow to the right.  Perhaps more importantly he needs to court the military to his side, though he has long bristled at that fact.

President Zardari and his ruling Pakistan People’s Party (PPP) have been deferring to the military after a terrible summer of misrule and missed opportunities.  After the devastating summer floods that ruined farms and fertile fields in large swathes of the countryside, the people of Pakistan sanctioned the Pakistani military as the only functioning authority in the country.  (Note how many are clamoring for the seemingly misremembered clarity and purpose of General Musharraf’s rule!)  Since then Zardari and his Prime Minister Yousuf Raza Gilani have been looking for a way to undercut the military for their political benefit.

Indeed, the recent news might have provided that opportunity.  Upon the disclosure that the U.S. had been trying to get rid of a cache of enriched uranium in Pakistan for fear that it would wind up at the disposal of militants, even the left leaning English daily Dawn that often defends the Zardari administration, raised the specter of Pakistan’s contested sovereignty. It’s front-page headline: “Pakistan’s nuclear capability a source of strength: PM”. At the same stroke as defending Pakistani national pride, Prime Minister Gilani tied together the fate of Pakistan with the fate of the ruling party.  Notice though that even though he spoke to the pride of place of the nuclear arsenal, and therefore of Pakistani national security, he failed to mention that the Pakistani military might have anything at all to do with securing Pakistan’s nuclear capability.

In response to Gilani’s bold move, the U.S. government, through the person of the newly appointed U.S. Ambassador to Pakistan, Cameron Munter, has argued for the continued cooperation of sorts that it enjoys with Pakistan, without backtracking from its criticism of the Zardari government and without disavowing the moves it reportedly made against Pakistan’s nuclear, military complex.

These moves and counter-moves raise the haunted ghost of previous U.S. interventions in Pakistan.  Those interventions have not gone well for the Pakistani people. How might the U.S. now defend itself against the claim that it is charging head-long into occupying Pakistan, when it has been shown to have interfered into Pakistan’s favorite public capability: its nuclear arsenal?  Little surprise then that Ambassador Cameron Munter moved to calm those in the military and in the political right and published an op-ed piece this morning in the right-leaning newspaper The News, announcing in part that:

Pakistan is an important strategic partner of the United States. Of course, even a solid relationship will have its ups and downs. We have seen that in the past few days, when documents purportedly downloaded from US Defense Department computers became the subject of reports in the media.

Moreover he claimed, the U.S foreign policy team:

…will continue to work to strengthen our partnership with Pakistan and make progress on the issues that are important for our two countries. We can’t afford anything less. I am in close contact with Pakistan’s leadership to make sure we continue to focus on the issues and tasks at hand. President Obama, Secretary Clinton, and I remain committed to being trusted partners as we seek to build a better, more prosperous world for everyone.

It is too early to tell if the U.S government’s overtures to the Pakistani people, over the summer and now, going forward, will smooth out years of implacably opposed opinion on unhelpful interventions in Pakistan’s politics.  Most Pakistanis think that American promises aren’t worth much. Promises of a longer stay coupled with more productive moves to ensure the safety of Pakistanis in the tribal regions, plans to spur on economic growth, raise education standards, fall to daily drone strikes.  But maybe there is yet a third way.

Faheem Haider is the Senior Blogger on Asia for the Foreign Policy Association.

Why Nations Fight? Past And Future Motives For War

Last night at IDEAS, Richard Ned Lebow launched his new book, Why Nations Fight. Here he outlines the key argument of the book, which analyses a wholly new data-set of inter-state wars.

Following Plato and Aristotle, I posit spirit, appetite and reason as fundamental drives with distinct goals.  They generate different logics concerning cooperation, conflict and risk-taking. They require, and help generate, characteristic forms of hierarchy based on different principles of justice. A fourth motive – fear -- enters the picture when reason is unable to constrain appetite or spirit. Fear is a powerful emotion, not an innate drive.  In real worlds, multiple motives mix rather than blend, giving rise to a range of behaviors that often appear contradictory. 

In modern times the spirit (thumos) has largely been ignored by philosophy and social science. I contend it is omnipresent. It gives rise to the universal drive for self-esteem which finds expression in the quest for honor or standing.  By excelling at activities valued by our peer group or society, we win the approbation of those who matter and feel good about ourselves.  Institutions and states have neither psyches nor emotions.  The people who run these collectivities or identify with them do.  They often project their psychological needs on to their political units, and feel better about themselves when those units win victories or perform well. Transference and esteem by vicarious association are especially pronounced in the age of nationalism where the state has become the relevant unit.  

I documented the relevance of the spirit for war in a series of case studies in A Cultural Theory of International Relations.  In this book, I extend my analysis to war throughout the modern era and analyze war initiation in terms of the relative power of states and their respective motives for war.  I derive six propositions from my theory about war initiation concerning the kinds of states that start wars, their motives for going to war, who they fight against, their rate of successes, the extent to which general wars arise from miscalculation and the propensity of weaker states to attack stronger ones.  To test these propositions, I constructed a data set of all inter-state wars involving great and aspiring rising powers from 1648 to the present.  

Contrary to realist expectations, I find security responsible for only 19 of 94 wars.  A significant number of these wars pitted great powers against other great powers and none of them were associated with power transitions.  Material interests are also a weak motive for war, being responsible for only 8 wars, and most of those in the eighteenth century.    Standing, by contrast, is responsible for 62 wars as a primary or secondary motive.  Revenge, also a manifestation of the spirit, is implicated in another 11.  There is no evidence for wars between rising and dominant powers, as predicted by power transition theory.  There can be little doubt that the spirit is the principal cause of war across the centuries, and that it and its consequences have been almost totally ignored in the international relations literature.

In examining the future of war we need to recognize important changes that are taking place in how actors understand war in relation to their goals.  Interest shows a sharp decline as a cause of war once mercantilism gave way to more sophisticated understandings of wealth.  Security-motivated wars show no similar decline by century but come in clusters associated with bids for hegemony by great or dominant powers.  The most recent clusters of security-related wars were associated with the run up and conduct of the two world wars of the twentieth century.  Now that this era has passed in Europe and is receding in much of the Pacific rim, and hegemony achieved by force is now longer considered a legitimate ambition, the security requirements and fears of great powers should decline.  Wars of standing can also be expected to decline as successful war initiation no longer enhances standing.  It may actually lead to loss of standing in the absence of United Nations’ approval of the military initiative in question.  The chance of war among great and rising powers is therefore diminishing and we may be cautiously optimistic that interstate war as an institution will see a sharp decline in this century. 

Richard Ned Lebow the James O. Freedman Presidential Professor of Government at Dartmouth College and the Centennial Professor of International Relations at the London School of Economics and Political Science.

Myanmar 2010 Elections: Outcomes and Implications

This event served to discuss the political situation in Burma/Myanmar after the elections of 7 November as well as the release from house arrest of Daw Aung San Suu Kyi six days later. The chair, Dr Jürgen Haacke, briefly reminded the audience that the elections were part of the military regime’s roadmap to a so-called ‘discipline-flourishing multiparty democracy’. He also outlined some of the core features of the political system that the 2008 Constitution sets out, highlighting among other the ways in which military leaders are keen to play a role in the country’s national politics, not least by retaining significant influence in both the executive and legislative branches of government. Bo Bo Lansin, a consultant editor of Mizzima News, used his introductory remarks to focus on the results of the elections and the various reasons why these should be seen as having been seriously flawed. In particular, he pointed to the phenomenon of advance votes for the junta that produced unfavourable outcomes for candidates from opposition and ethnic parties. Derek Tonkin, a former UK diplomat and now Chairman of Network Myanmar, discussed the ineffectiveness of existing sanctions and the role that Daw Aung San Suu Kyi would likely now play, not least as a possible mediator between Burma/Myanmar and the international community on the issue of sanctions.

The ensuing discussion focused on two broad themes: the current domestic political situation and the issue of sanctions. In relation to the former the audience for instance asked the panellists whether they thought the elections constituted a successful exercise in the re-branding of Myanmar and the ruling junta. Other questions focused on the state of the National League for Democracy, Daw Aung San Suu Kyi’s relations with other leaders of the pro-reform and pro-democracy camp. In response, Bo Bo Lansin spoke about the current fluidity of Burmese politics, focused on the significant legitimacy issues faced by the military junta and also emphasised the tensions between Naypyidaw and a number of ethnic nationalities. Derek Tonkin pointed out that in previous months and years neither members of the business community nor the armed forces had rejuvenated NLD party ranks. Panellists pointed to past problems of factionalism within the NLD, while highlighting Daw Suu’s stated preparedness to work with other political leaders.

The question arose whether human rights organisations working on Burma/Myanmar should expect that Western governments would follow their advice of now putting more pressure on the regime. The panel thought that this was unlikely without the governments first consulting with Daw Aung San Suu Kyi on this issue. Derek Tonkin pointed out that Daw Suu has argued that if the people of Burma wanted sanctions to be lifted, she would consider it. It was moreover noted that the US government is clearly interested in persisting with pragmatic engagement, a position reflected in the remarks made by State Department speaker Phillip J. Crowley on 15 November 2010.

There was agreement that sanctions imposed on Naypyidaw have hitherto failed. Derek Tonkin distinguished between three broad categories of sanctions: the blocking of funding by Western countries from international financial institutions (which leaves Burma/Myanmar with less than a quarter of development assistance received by neighbouring Laos or Cambodia); the official discouragement of trade, investment and tourism; and statutory sanctions specifically targeting regime representatives and associated cronies. He recounted how the European Union had on one occasion - mistakenly - imposed sanctions against a significant number of private businesses with no obvious connections to military or ‘crony’ interests. He suggested that the regime’s leadership was at best inconvenienced by targeted Western sanctions. Also, by employing sanctions Western countries had undermined any influence with the military they might once have enjoyed.

Given the political realities and the challenges facing Aung San Suu Kyi and, more broadly, the country’s pro-reform and democracy camp, Bo Bo Lansin and Derek Tonkin both remained sceptical concerning the more immediate prospects for significant political change within Burma/Myanmar.

By Dr Jürgen Haacke

The Complexities of Power Sharing in Iraq

By Caelum Moffatt

On 25 November, Iraqi President Jalal Talabani officially invited incumbent Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki to form a government. According to the Iraqi Constitution, the Shiite leader of the State of Law Coalition (SLC) will now have 30 days to negotiate with the major political blocs and establish an all inclusive cabinet that attempts to break the eight-month political impasse.

In order to render the process as democratic as possible, a points system has been devised whereby available positions within the cabinet are allocated a numerical value depending on their importance. If, as it is speculated, one point is equal to 2.4 parliamentary seats, each political entity will only be permitted to hold positions that its parliamentary share allows. Although every party will be able to nominate candidates for each place, the interior and defence ministries will be reserved for independents and the ‘sovereign ministries’ – oil, finance and foreign affairs – will be divided between the three major blocs. Once nominations have been submitted, al-Maliki will decide who is appointed.

Members of al-Maliki’s inner circle remain optimistic that this method will reap tangible and effective results. However the initiation of the points system does not work to diminish the competition for positions both within and between political blocs as parties assign different meanings to each post.

The sine qua non for success is Iraqiyah, the largest bloc in the Council of Representatives and an alliance that draws most of its support from Iraq’s Sunni population. A notable absentee from al-Maliki’s inauguration ceremony, Iraqiyah’s leader, Iyad Allawi, reiterates that there are three preconditions for compliance: the establishment of a National Council for Strategic Policies (NCSP), chaired by Iraqiyah and awarded executive powers; the recognition of this Council as the centre for promoting national reconciliation; and the exoneration of four Iraqiyah colleagues who were accused by the Accountability and Justice Commission before the elections of being affiliated to Saddam Hussein’s Ba’ath Party.

Iyad Allawi, believing that his coalition has already conceded its constitutional right to form a government, warned that Iraqiyah will not concede on these matters. Despite this explicit threat, al-Maliki, who spent his first term centralising executive powers to his office, publicly opposes bestowing executive authority on the NCSP, insisting that it act purely as an advisory body for foreign, security and domestic affairs.

The implementation of the de-Ba’athification process is also a highly sensitive subject that extends beyond al-Maliki. Iraq may be fraught with sectarian divisions but the Kurdish and Shiite blocs are unanimous in their unequivocal commitment to ensure the removal of remnant Ba’ath loyalists from the political process. Whether links between Iraqiyah and the Ba’ath Party can be substantiated or whether they merely serve as a political expedient to legitimise the marginalisation of Iraqiyah is a discussion that exceeds the remit of this piece. Either way, a political frame that associates Iraqiyah with Saddam Hussein risks damaging the prospects for national reconciliation by widening the chasm between Iraqiyah and the other political blocs, leading to a split that could exacerbate tensions and further destabilise Iraq as disgruntled Sunni militants mobilise in response to this exclusion.

Aside from Iraqiyah, al-Maliki must manage other internal disputes that could undermine any prospective power-sharing agreement and the establishment of a functional government. These include balancing between the dichotomous views of Iraqi nationalists and his Kurdish allies regarding oil and land in the north as well as granting the Sadrists enough influence to satisfy their expectations and reflect the party’s standing without considerably enhancing the public profile of the recalcitrant Muqtada al-Sadr.

The removal of Saddam Hussein unleashed the manifestation of an endemic deficiency of trust that plagues Iraqi politics. As a result, al-Maliki has the unenviable task of reaching a compromise between mutually suspicious sectarian elites that viscerally protect their status and vigorously pursue the interests of their respective constituencies.

In a more evolved democracy, Iraqiyah would inevitably sit in opposition, expose the government’s shortcomings and construct national policies that aim to supersede sectarian narratives. Unfortunately, in the present climate, such a strategy would enable the Shiites and Kurds to monopolise and consolidate the corridors of power. Additionally, the bonds that unite Iraqiyah may erode as Sunnis become alienated and further disenchanted with politics.

For this reason, Iraq is frequently compared to Lebanon’s consociational democracy and predictions foretell the gradual ‘Lebanonisation of Iraq’. For now however, sectarianism in Iraq is not as entrenched or institutionalised as it is in Lebanon. Neutralising the impact of sectarianism requires limiting the channels and contexts through which it can be exploited. Power-sharing is a fundamental step to the development of Iraq’s experiment with democracy in presenting an opportunity for cooperation through the composition of a national agenda that assists in building trust amongst its politicians.


Caelum Moffatt is a PhD candidate in Middle East Politics at Durham University, focusing on the politicisation of armed Islamic social movements.

Shifting Sands is the blog of the Middle East International Affairs Programme at LSE IDEAS, analysing current events in the Middle East and contributing to the ongoing deliberations over policy prescriptions.

Silvia L. Peneva, Editor

Lifted Lines and Lacks Vision: Cameron's Guildhall Speech on Britain's Global Role

It is said by many informed commentators that David Cameron's recent speech on Britain's global role was partly lifted from one delivered by former PM Gordon Brown and also lacked "vision". USBlog contends that is an impoverished and superficial conclusion from Cameron's speech.

"We have the resources - commercial, military and cultural - to remain a major player in the world. We have the relationships - with the most established powers and the fastest-growing nations - that will benefit our economy. And we have the values - national values that swept slavery from the seas, that stood up to both fascism and communism and that helped to spread democracy and human rights around the planet - that will drive us to do good around the world."

So spoke David Cameron at Guildhall last week. Britain is strong, capable, and a Force for Good in the World.

Those lines owe their origins not to Gordon Brown, or Tony Blair, or Margaret Thatcher - their provenance reaches back into British history - an imperial mentality forged over generations. Lord Palmerston said it in the 1860s; George Canning said it even earlier; Gladstone and Disraeli said it in their own ways in the 1870s and 1880s; the Foreign Office's Eyre Crowe sort of said it in 1907; Clement Attlee said it over and over after 1945, showing that 'de-colonisation' need not interfere with imperialism.

As Cameron acknowledged in his speech, Britain has "a glorious past" of "deep engagement around the world", an imperial "instinct to be self-confident and active well beyond our shores"; it's "in our DNA", no less.

No mention of "empire" of course when he talks about India, and China, and Korea, and Zambia, but "deep engagement" or "centuries-long engagement" which has "left a rich legacy". No mention of the rich legacy Britain left in Afghanistan in the imperial era, or the legacy it is organising there now in that tragic country, with hundreds of thousands dead in their wake.

Britain's national interests appear to focus on big business, as strong a military as Britain can afford (to assist its flexible approach to "threats" through "Brigade-diplomacy"), and the deployment of foreign aid more closely tied to building security and stability. Cameron does not aspire to a "perfect democracy" in Afghanistan, just a place from which "al Qaeda can never again pose a threat to us". The "us" means "US", I think, as 9-11 occurred on US soil.

And the United States remains not just "special" but "crucial" to Cameron's Britain - through G8, G20, NATO, intelligence cooperation, counter-terrorism, and the like. An attack on the US is an attack on "us" - a quiet assumption that has run through British foreign policy since the 1940s and shows no signs of abating.

Cameron's lines have been lifted from past prime ministers' Guildhall speeches; there is a Vision. It just isn't very inspiring for anyone with a sense of history, especially a sense of western interventions in the 'third world'. We have been here before. When will British elites learn that it is possible to be global in outlook, to see the interconnectedness of things, but realise that imperialinterventions - for whatever purposes, usually prestige, power, or material gain - are totally counter-productive? Just look at Iraq and Afghanistan.

But what can you do about imperial DNA?


Inderjeet Parmar is Professor of Government at the University of Manchester, Vice Chair of the British International Studies Association and an Associate of the LSE IDEAS Transatlantic Relations Programme.  This post first appeared at his excellent US Blog

Juicio y Castigo: Nestor Kirchner and accountability for past human rights violations in Argentina

On October 27, 2010, former President of Argentina, 60-year-old Nestor Kirchner, died after suffering a heart attack. This blog reflects on one of Kirchner’s legacies, namely his efforts to favour the re-opening of judicial proceedings against members of the most recent military regime in Argentina, 1976 to 1983.

Kirchner, a lawyer from the Patagonian province of Santa Cruz, together with his wife, current Argentine President Cristina Fernández, belonged to the Peronist Party and hinted on several occasions to having been victims of the military regime. This blog does not aim to discuss Kirchner’s overall legacy as a politician. Still, Kirchner’s actions at the beginning of his presidential mandate unlocked a situation of complete impunity in Argentina, regarding the massive human rights violations that had been committed by the military dictatorship. In 2003, exactly twenty years after the democratic transition, President Kirchner set in motion a number of actions that resulted in reopening of trials for human rights abuses, including torture, executions and disappearances. Prosecutions resumed since 2005 in various parts of Argentina, including in the capital Buenos Aires and provinces such as Formosa, Salta and Santa Fe.

How can we explain the return to accountability, after over a decade of silence and oblivion? And, five years on from the beginning of trials, what assessment can we make?

Military Rule in Argentina, 1976 to 1983

When the Armed Forces took over power from Perón’s wife Isabel in the early hours of March 24, 1976, few imagined this would constitute the beginning of Argentina’s darkest hour. In fact, Argentina was accustomed to frequent military interventions in political life, there having been five coups (1930, 1943, 1955, 1962, and 1966) in less than forty years. Still, the new dictatorship, the Argentine Process of National Reorganisation (or Proceso as normally shortened in Spanish), openly wished to transform the state, economy and society, doing so through recourse to systematic violence and terror.

On the backdrop of the global confrontation of the Cold War and taking ideological inspiration from the National Security Doctrine, unprecedented human rights abuses occurred. The repression lasted for the whole duration of the regime, reaching its peak between 1976 and 1979; nonetheless, violence continued unabated till the very end of the Proceso, with disappearances reported as late as 1983. In Argentina, at that time, the state was ‘Janus-faced’: an invisible and clandestine terrorist structure tasked with repression co-existed with a government subjected to norms and legal scrutiny. A façade of legality masked the invisible and violent hand of the state that arbitrarily tortured, murdered and disappeared thousands of human beings. Repression was a common feature throughout the Southern Cone of Latin America; cross-border repression - particularly strong between Argentina and Uruguay - however extended to Bolivia, Brazil, Chile and Paraguay. The framework of Operación Cóndor (Plan Condor) effectively established a borderless area of terror.

In Argentina, the repression focused primarily on the suppression of left-wing terrorism; the country’s two major guerrilla groups, the Ejercito Revolucionario del Pueblo (The People’s Revolutionary Army, ERP) and the Peronist Montoneros were heavily targeted. However, subversion was perceived as a highly contagious social disease: thus, the list of possible subversives encompassed students, professors, journalists, trade unionists, workers and priests.

Repression was implemented under orders from highest military authorities, and coordinated through the military hierarchy. Operations followed a territorial scheme and were carried out by task forces (grupos de tareas), composed of members of the armed and security forces: their changing composition ensured the blood pact of silence - still strong nowadays. The distinguishing feature of the Argentine repression was the practice of enforced disappearance of people. The word desaparecido (missing), a Spanish term sadly famous throughout the world, refers to persons forcefully apprehended at home, work or on public thoroughfares. After abduction, nothing was ever known about their destiny. Later on, the pieces of this unimaginable puzzle of torture and murder were put together. The desaparecidos were taken to one of over 500 clandestine detention centres, often police commissions and military premises, in which they were subjected to the worst humiliations, including sexual violation and electric shocks. It is estimated that up to 30,000 individuals went missing, most of their bodies still hidden in unmarked clandestine graves or thrown drugged but alive into the River Plate from airplanes, the (in)famous vuelos de la muerte (death flights). The human cost of repression was multi-faceted: in addition to the thousands disappeared, we must include approximately 500 children – born to women in clandestine detention - whose identities were altered through illegal adoption to families of the security forces. Further, there were 12,890 political prisoners, 2,286 murders and an estimated 250,000 people that left the country for exile.

Transitional Justice in Argentina, 1976 to 2003

By the early 1980s, internal divisions within the ruling junta regarding economic and political goals, the regime’s demising legitimacy due to international and national denunciations of human rights crimes, combined with an economic and financial crisis, and internal pressures to open up the system, cleared the way for transition. The fiasco of the Falklands/Malvinas War in mid-1982 aggravated the already existing internal conflicts, putting under the spotlight the government’s lack of authority.

Since 1983, Argentina has been a pioneer in transitional justice, using a variety of mechanisms such as trials and reparations, and pioneering new ones like truth commissions and the truth trials. The October 1983 national elections saw the victory of Radical Party candidate Raúl Alfonsín who had most forcefully expressed his commitment to the return of the rule of law, and to provide truth and justice regarding the human rights violations under military rule.

During Alfonsín’s mandate, the traumatic legacy of repression was initially confronted head-on. The President immediately established the National Commission on the Disappearance of Persons (CONADEP) and decreed the prosecution of nine military commanders for the crimes of homicide, unlawful deprivation of freedom and torture in December 1983. The CONADEP was the first truth commission to ever complete a final report and obtain widespread international attention. It was composed of highly reputable figures, and charged with shedding light on what had occurred to the desaparecidos. After months of work, the CONADEP presented its findings to Alfonsín and a summary of its conclusions was later published as the famous Nunca Más report. The report emphasised how the military adopted a strategy of terror and repression, during which human rights were violated in a systematic and organic manner throughout Argentina. Enjoying absolute power and total impunity, the armed forces kidnapped, tortured and murdered thousands of Argentines and foreigners.

On the justice front, the Buenos Aires Federal Appeals Court condemned the military commanders in December 1985, with sentences ranging from life imprisonment for General Videla and Admiral Massera, to detentions of various lengths for other defendants. This historic trial was unprecedented not only in Argentina but in Latin America too, where amnesia had traditionally been the norm. Still, further prosecutions proved impossible. By the late 1980s, after several military rebellions happened, triggered by increasing dissatisfaction with human rights trials, two amnesty laws were adopted by Congress to limit prosecutions. The Full Stop Law (December 1986) set a 60-day limit for filing all claims relating to past human rights abuses (otherwise all would be extinguished after 22 February 1987). Further, the Due Obedience Law (June 1987) established that chief officers, subordinate officers, sub-officers, and troops in the armed, security, prison forces had acted under orders and were not punishable. Finally, newly-elected President Menem strengthened the mantle of silence and oblivion regarding the recent past, by granting two sets of pardons, in October 1989 and December 1990, benefitting hundreds of people, including some of the already convicted officers and commanders. By the early 1990s, a veil of impunity tightly surrounded questions of truth and justice in Argentina.

Between 1990 and 2002, the Presidency of Carlos Menem purposely closed off the question of the past, favouring a ‘forgive-and-forget’ policy regarding accountability, at whose heart rested the pardons granted at the beginning of his mandate. The President’s policy was a sort of trade-off: Menem was willing to forget the crimes of the past, but would not tolerate any future disobedience by the armed forces (i.e. uprisings as in the late 1980s). During Menem’s first term (1989 to 1994), the subject of the past was absent from the political agenda and the Executive only favoured progress in areas of human rights deemed to be less confrontational, namely economic reparations and the search for missing children. A particularly important event, in addition to the quite controversial policy of economic reparations to victims of detention and disappearance, was the enactment of Law 24,321 of Absence by Forced Disappearance, which created an unprecedented legal status for all persons who involuntarily disappeared before 12/1983.

During Menem’s second mandate (1995-1999), the question of the past began resurfacing, thanks to the unrelenting work of the human rights organizations, the 1995 military confessions, and the impact of the London arrest of ex-Chilean dictator Pinochet. In the late 1990s, several events occurred inside Argentina, which renovated the momentum towards accountability: the re-opening of judicial trials for crimes not covered by the amnesty laws (economic crimes, kidnapping and false adoption of children) beginning in 1998, and the development of the so-called truth trials. The latter are judicial proceedings documenting past human rights abuses: there is no judgment or defendants, and relatives, victims, and/or military officers are summoned and questioned as if they were ordinary witnesses, to obtain information about the destiny of the desaparecidos. They took place in Federal Appeal Courts in various parts of Argentina, including Buenos Aires, La Plata, Cordoba, Mar del Plata, Neuquén, Jujuy and Bahía Blanca.

President De la Rúa (1999 to 2001), who had promised co-operation on human
rights issues in his electoral campaign, instead opted for a mainly hands-off approach, even continuing Menem’s practices of promoting officers accused of participating in the repression. The December 2001 severe economic, social and political crisis, however, temporarily overshadowed the issues of past crimes. Still, 2001 represented a fundamental year in the fight for accountability, signalling the beginning of the end of impunity. Back in March 1998, the Argentine Chamber of Deputies had derogated the two amnesty laws, preventing in this way their future application; nonetheless, the effects of the laws remained as far as past judicial proceedings were concerned. At that time, the Centre for Legal and Social Studies (Centro de Estudios Legales y Sociales, CELS) thus developed an innovative legal argument in this respect. Drawing upon the Poblete case, lawyers from the CELS argued that the amnesty laws put the Argentine judicial system in an untenable position: it could find people criminally responsible for kidnapping a child and falsely changing her identity, but not for the more serious original crime of murder and disappearance of her parents that later gave rise to the crime of kidnapping. In March 2001, Federal Judge Cavallo thus declared the unconstitutionality of the amnesty laws, for violating the Constitution and international law obligations. This first instance ruling, however, only applied to the Poblete case, because a federal judge does not possess the power to declare the unconstitutionality for all cases.

Transitional Justice meets Nestor Kirchner (2003 to 2007)

In May 2003, the quest for accountability found an unexpected ally in President Nestor Kirchner who, surprisingly, backed efforts to prosecute those responsible for the crimes committed during the years of state terrorism. President Kirchner belonged to the generation of the Peronist party that had been severely repressed by the juntas in the 1970s.

Kirchner’s human rights policy had four elements: the recuperation of former-detention centres to construct memory spaces; the vetting of governmental officials linked to the dictatorship, purging the federal police and forcing dozens of generals and admirals into retirement; international cooperation with extradition requests from abroad; and, the re-opening of trials inside Argentina. Further, Kirchner created a favourable climate to progress on truth and justice, by appointing three new judges to the Supreme Court, and repealing Decree 1,581 of December 2001, which barred compliance with extradition orders. The President also ratified the Convention on the Non-Applicability of Statutory Limitations to War Crimes and Crimes against Humanity, obliging the government to punish such violations, and making extradition possible. In August 2004, the President also completed the policy of reparations, providing compensation to minors that had been victims of state terrorism.

The President pushed for the effective annulment of the amnesty laws. In December 1983, Law 23,040 had declared the self-amnesty law (Law of National Pacification of September 1983) enacted by the outgoing military junta as ‘null and void’. Relying upon this precedent, in August 2003, Congress adopted Law 25,779, which declared the Full Stop and Due Obedience laws as ‘null, as if they had never existed’. The amnesty laws had already been derogated in 1998, declared unconstitutional in 2001, and annulled by Congress in 2003. Still, a final decision on the question of the constitutionality of their annulment was eventually delivered by the Argentine Supreme Court in June 2005. The Court upheld the constitutionality of Law 25,779 and simultaneously declared the invalidity and unconstitutionality of the Full Stop and Due Obedience Laws. The Court claimed that the amnesty laws were contrary to international norms of constitutional hierarchy, also taking into account recent developments in international human rights law, such as the 2001 Barrios Altos jurisprudence by the Inter-American Court of Human Rights, to conclude that the State was obliged to investigate and sanction crimes committed under the dictatorship, as the latter cannot be amnestied. The Court considered enforced disappearances as crimes against humanity, and continuous and multiple violations of international human rights law. Since 2004, several federal judges have also denounced Menem’s pardons − the last remaining legal obstacles in the way of prosecutions. Some of these rulings, as in the case of General Riveros, were later confirmed by the Supreme Court in 2007, opening the way for other pardons to be deemed null and void.

The current state of trials in Argentina

In 2006, the first trials relating to past human rights abuses in twenty years were held. In August, Buenos Aires Federal Court 5 condemned former-police official Simón to twenty-five years imprisonment for the illegal deprivation of liberty, aggravated by torture and the appropriation of a minor, committed against the Poblete-Hlaczik family. In September, La Plata Federal Court 1 sentenced a former-police official Miguel Etchecolatz to life imprisonment for the illegal arrest, torture and homicides of six disappeared, and the kidnapping and torture of two survivors. For the first time, the court in La Plata contended that these crimes had occurred within the context of the genocide that took place in Argentina between 1976 and 1983. Other important sentences occurred in 2007 and 2008, including a life imprisonment’s sentence for involvement in murder, illegitimate deprivations of liberty and torture to the former-chaplain of the Buenos Aires provincial police, and terms of between twenty and twenty-five years for aggravated illegitimate deprivation of liberty to seven high-ranking members of Intelligence Battalion 601, including former-Army Commander Nicolaides. In April 2008, in the first judgment of its kind, a couple was sentenced to eight and seven years’ imprisonment for the appropriation of a baby girl born to disappeared parents and stolen by an ex-Army captain. In Tucumán, in August, former-General Menéndez and former-Governor Bussi were condemned to life imprisonment for the illegitimate deprivation of liberty, torture and disappearance of ex-Senator Vargas-Aignasse.

Trials have continued since and prosecutions are well under way throughout Argentina nowadays. According to the CELS’ database as of November 2010, 1.589 people are implicated in crimes against humanity, 277 have been charged, eight-two condemned, 442 are currently under pre-trial detention, eight have been acquitted while 255 have passed away. Trials have started, or are scheduled to begin, in eleven (out of twenty-four) Argentine provinces including in Buenos Aires, Chaco, Chubut, Córdoba, La Pampa and Salta.

In Buenos Aires, four important trials are taking place: the cases of ABO, El Vesubio, ESMA, and Automotores Orletti. The ABO case covers the human rights violations committed by seventeen defendants in three former clandestine detention centres managed by the First Army Corps: El Club Atlético, Banco, and El Olimpo, which operated, overall, between mid-1976 and the beginning of 1979. The El Vesubio trial relates to another ex-clandestine detention centre under that name which existed between 1976 and 1979. The trial investigates instances of illegal deprivation of liberty, torture, homicide, executions, and disappearances, with eight defendants. The so-called mega-cause of the ESMA relates to the former clandestine detention centre that existed on the premises of the Escuela Superior de Mecánica de la Armada (Superior Navy School of Mechanics, ESMA). This centre operated throughout the dictatorship between 1976 and 1983; the (in)famous task force 3.3.2 operated there and it has been estimated that approximately 5,000 disappeared passed through the ESMA, only 200 of which survived. A clandestine maternity ward also existed there. The case sees eighteen defendants and began in December 2009. The Automotores Orletti case, which began in June 2010, refers to the illegal deprivation of liberty, murder and torture of sixty-five people, perpetrated in the homonymous clandestine detention centre and has six defendants. The centre, which existed between May and November 1976, specifically ‘housed’ repressive agents operating within the framework of the Plan Condor. In fact, of the 200 detainees there, the majority were Uruguayans, but there were also Argentines, Bolivians, Cubans, Brazilians, and Paraguayans.

Prosecutions have begun outside of the capital city too, including proceedings in:

• the Margarita Belén Massacre, relating to the execution and torture of twenty-two political prisoners in December 1976 in the Chaco province;
• the Trelew Massacre, relating to the execution of sixteen political prisoners in August 1972 in the Chubut province;
• a trial against former dictator Videla and other thirty-one defendants in Córdoba on charges of murder;
• in Rosario, where five officers and a civilian face charges of rape, torture and murder regarding eighty-six victims;
• in Mar del Plata, where three Navy officers are charged with seven murders and nine kidnappings and torture committed between 1976 and 1977;
• Buenos Aires province, a trial against former dictator Bignone, and other three officers.

What assessment can we make of the trials?

Undoubtedly, the re-opening of judicial proceedings has produced diverse responses, being both welcomed and criticised. For the NGO H.I.J.O.S. (Daughters and Sons for Identity and Justice against Forgetting and Silence), trials constitute ‘a chance not to be missed’, particularly to disseminate information about past crimes to a frequently indifferent society. For the Abuelas de la Plaza de Mayo, recent prosecutions continue what was begun in the 1980s and all the means towards justice should be attempted. For the Association of Former Disappeared-Detainees, justice is needed ‘not only to avoid the repetition of similar crimes, but also to stop people from taking justice into their own hands’. It is important to underscore that there have never been instances of personal vengeance in Argentina, even though these could have easily occurred given that repressors were free to walk the streets for years and lived a life of comfortable impunity. Lastly, trials are also seen as providing moral reparations to the victims and helping restore their dignity.

Nonetheless, relevant critiques have also been raised. First, it is rather difficult to collect information over thirty years after the events, and it is important to ensure that innocent people will not be wrongly condemned. Second, it is feared that this is going to be an extremely long process, with several delays and trials likely to last for very long. Never-ending trials may actually backfire on the whole purpose of justice, especially given the old age of many defendants: people that were ‘monsters’ may be transformed into victims and, furthermore, plenty of symbolic figures of the dictatorship like Admiral Massera have already died. Third, it has been pointed out how the acquisition of new information has been limited and that it is always the voice of the victims that it is heard, while the defendants remain committed to the ‘blood pact of silence’. The question of ‘bystanders to the violence’ also remains. In addition to charging military and police officers involved in human rights abuses, how do we deal with the various shades of culpability that existed during state terrorism? How about the element of civilian collaboration? And the role of the Catholic Church? And that of the big businesses that profited during the regime? Delineating the borders of guilt and responsibility beyond the ‘usual suspects’ (i.e. the military) is not an easy task, especially through a judicial lens, one in which the dominant categories are those of ‘innocent’ and ‘guilty’.

The re-opening of trials had some negative consequences too. Several witnesses have been intimidated to dissuade them from providing testimony. Some, like Luis Ángel Gerez and Juan-Evaristo Puthod, were abducted and temporarily disappeared. The most disturbing case is that of Jorge-Julio López, a key witness at the Etchecolatz 2006 trial, who disappeared the day before the verdict was delivered and has not been seen since.

Kirchner and human rights

Overall, Kirchner’s human rights policy triggered mixed responses within the community of human rights activists and broader society. For many, the former President played an instrumental role in re-opening the question of accountability. For others, Kirchner ‘(ab)used’ the past for his own political purposes.

After years of fighting against Executives that attempted to strictly circumscribe the scope of truth and justice, several human rights organisations rejoiced to have found a President that was finally willing to take up their cause, and particularly to facilitate the process of justice. A member of the Asociación-Madres de la Plaza de Mayo recounted of their meeting with Kirchner, in which the President told them how he understood their pain and how, while he was a student, some of his best friends were taken away, and he himself could have also disappeared. The Madres have, particularly, enjoyed a much ‘friendlier’ relationship with the Kirchner’s administration, which has been willing to listen to their demands. For other human rights NGOs, the Kirchner’s administration had a direct interest in the matter, given it was composed of people who belong to the generation of the disappeared and thus worked for human rights, against impunity and for the social changes desired since the 1970s.

It is important, however, to highlight a number of problems with the Kirchner’s administration and its human rights policy. First, it has been suggested that the President’s policy focused too much on the past to the detriment of current human rights issues, especially problems relating to the police, the judiciary, governing by decree and the separation of powers. Second, many question the depth of Kirchner’s commitment to human rights. It is common knowledge that neither Kirchner, nor his wife, was ever preoccupied with the subject of the past beforehand. Upon being elected, Kirchner was a little known figure in political centres like Buenos Aires or Rosario; thus, some have contended that the President selected the question of the past in the attempt to garner political support, especially from the middle classes. The human rights banner was taken up as a sort of ‘differentiation strategy’ within Peronism. Third, some even go as far as accusing the President of appropriating himself of the question of human rights. Kirchner can has often been credited with the nullification of the amnesty laws, which was, however, the product of a much longer process that resulted from the work of people that relentlessly continued to demand accountability throughout the years of impunity. Fourth, the strong link that emerged between the Executive and some human rights organisations, especially the Asociación-Madres, has been criticised as detrimental to activism, for mixing current political issues with human rights demands. This close association caused a big deterioration in the human rights movement that moved away from a liberal and universalist discourse of human rights to a vindication of political projects. Because of this, recent trials have been seen by some as ‘historical revenge’, rather than as endeavours to strengthen the rule of law.

Final reflections

The re-opening of judicial proceedings regarding the crimes committed during the 1970s and 1980s has not been a phenomenon limited to Argentina. It has been taking place throughout the region. In particular, important sentences have been dictated in the last few years, including in:

• Chile, as of October 2009, 559 former military personnel and civilian collaborators were facing charges for enforced disappearances, extrajudicial executions, and torture; 277 had been convicted (of whom 175 had had the verdict confirmed on final appeal), and 56 were serving prison sentences. Thirty-two of those charged or convicted had been generals in the Chilean army. Pinochet himself was under house arrest and faced prosecution at the time of his death in 2006. In September 2009, 129 former members of the DINA, Pinochet's secret police, were indicted for disappearances and extrajudicial executions dating from the 1970s. For the first time, the Supreme Court's Criminal Chamber expressly declared torture to be a crime against humanity;

• Peru, the sentence to twenty-five years imprisonment to former President Fujimori, for grave human rights violations (including extrajudicial executions and disappearances) handed down by the Special Criminal Court of Peru’s Supreme Court of April 2009. Fujimori was the first democratically elected Latin American leader to be convicted for grave human rights violations in his own country. By the end of September 2009, thirteen members of the Colina group, the government death squad directly responsible for the La Cantuta and Barrios Altos killings, had also been convicted;

• Uruguay, important sentences were dictated against key military and civilian leaders of the dictatorship. In October 2009, Former President Gregorio Álvarez was sentenced to twenty five years prison term for his role as co-author in the aggravated homicides of thirty-seven people. In February 2010, former President Juan María Bordaberry was condemned to a forty-five year sentence for crimes including nine enforced disappearances, two political murders and, in the first sentence of this kind in the world, for leading the military takeover and thus violating the Uruguayan Constitution. In April 2010, former Minister of External Relations Juan Carlos Blanco was sentenced to twenty-year imprisonment for the aggravated homicide of disappeared teacher Elena Quinteros.

These judicial developments reflect recent jurisprudence by the Inter-American Court of Human Rights, which has consistently argued that amnesty laws enacted in the aftermath of human rights repression are incompatible with the American Convention on Human Rights - see the judgements in the Barrios Altos (2001) and Almonacid (2006) cases, regarding Peru and Chile.

Although it is important to question Kirchner’s real commitment to human rights, it cannot be denied either that he proved to be the ‘right person and right time’ for human rights organisations in Argentina, helping them re-open the quest for justice after many years of silence. It is true that Kirchner built on years of unyielding work by human rights activists, but the President provided the much needed political will to give a new moment to the justice process. Current judicial proceedings are well under way now and it can be expected that they will continue for the foreseeable future. Kirchner established a climate favourable to the return of the question of past, and there are solid bases to believe that trials will continue, notwithstanding the end of the Kirchner era. There exist, however, threats to these judicial proceedings but they come from ‘within’ the process itself. In fact, the CELS recently estimated that at the current pace, it would take at least twenty years to complete proceedings, highlighting the risks for the victims, defendants and society as a whole. The slow progress may jeopardise an already fragile process and ways must be found to speed up judicial proceedings, grouping cases together, avoiding unnecessary delays and rapidly resolving logistical issues.

Last but not least, impunity for current human rights abuses by the state must also be addressed, especially regarding the use of excessive force by the police, disappearances, the violent repression of social protests, the (ab)use of preventive detention and the state of Argentina’s prison. Looking at the past does not mean closing the eyes to the present.

Sources
• CELS Juicios, Crímenes del terrorismo de Estado - Weblogs de las causas, accessed 9 November 2010

• Former Argentine President Nestor Kirchner dies

• Human Right Watch World Report 2010 – Chile, Events of 2009; Peru, Events of 2009

• Legacy of leader who brought Argentina out of crisis

• Lessa, F. 2010. The Missing Memory of Transitional Justice: How Argentina and Uruguay confronted past evils, 1983-2009. London: Library of the London School of Economics, Ph.D. thesis;
• Obituary: Former Argentine President Nestor Kirchner

Francesca Lessa is a research associate for the Latin America International Affairs Programme at the LSE IDEAS centre

The Context Behind the Costa Rican-Nicaraguan Border Dispute

By Guy Burton

The dispute between Nicaragua and Costa Rica stems from an island located at the mouth of the San Juan River, which forms the border between the two countries. The dispute has been simmering for a month as a result of Nicaragua’s decision to send troops to the region. Several reasons have been put forward for the action, including the concern of Daniel Ortega, the Nicaraguan president, with narco-traffickers in the region and the need for a military presence to discourage them.

In response to what Costa Rica’s president, Laura Chinchilla, has called an ‘invasion’, the matter was referred to the Organisation of American States (OAS). Last Friday the OAS passed a resolution by 22 votes to one in support of Costa Rica and that Nicaragua remove its troops – a request that Ortega has refused. Instead he has suggested taking the dispute to The Hague for resolution, claiming that the OAS has no right to rule on international borders.

The one vote in favour of Nicaragua came from Venezuela. That in itself was significant, since the two are allies and members of the Bolivarian Alliance for the Americas (ALBA). The organisation was set up in response to the US-backed Free Trade Area of the Americas (FTAA), emphasising regional cooperation on the basis of social and political ties rather than markets and economic liberalisation and deregulation. In addition to these two countries, Cuba, Ecuador and Bolivia are also members of ALBA, all of whom are noted for the opposition to US hegemony in the hemisphere.

Venezuela’s support of Nicaragua is a fact that has been noted but not really analysed by the media. At the same time, there does not appear to have been any explanation why Ortega should have carried out his actions now rather than at another time. This is contrast to the media attention surrounding Costa Rica's lack of an army and response in sending police forces to the border region. In addition, media reports have also noted that the US has been presented as willing to act as a mediator, if asked to do so.

Arguably the reason for the current situation, including Nicaragua’s recent decision and Venezuela’s support of it, may well be due to wider regional politics – and especially the growing presence of the US in Central America. First, the ‘war on drugs’ has prompted the US to seek a larger role in the region, either in the search for allies or through direct involvement in the struggle against drug gangs. The most notable of these has been its various agreements with Colombia which have enabled it to increase both the number of American bases and troops there. In addition to tackling the drug trade at source, the US has also expanded its influence in the drug supply route, though Central America. In addition to Panamanian bases, the US also recently signed an agreement with Costa Rica last July to allow 46 warships and 7000 troops into the country.

Second, the rise of American influence in the region has coincided with concern by significant sections of these countries’ political and civil societies. In particular there is concern about what American intentions are beyond the ‘war on drugs’. In part this may be explained by the Left’s general antipathy towards Washington and the legacy of American meddling in the region, especially during the Cold War. More recently, it reflects suspicions that Washington may be working against these leftist governments. Venezuela’s president, Hugo Chavez, was overthrown by a coup in 2002, an action which brought swift recognition from Washington at the time, only for the provisional government to collapse days later. In June 2009, Manuel Zelaya, the Honduran president who brought his country into ALBA, was kicked out of office and forced into exile. Although the Obama administration condemned the action, the US was one of the first countries in the hemisphere to recognise the result of subsequent election that took place later in the year. It also pushed for the reinstatement of Honduras back into the OAS, following its suspension after the coup. And following the aborted coup against Ecuador’s president, Rafael Correa, at the end of September, left-wingers have been looking to see if there were any American fingerprints left behind.

Ortega’s decision to send troops to the border may therefore be read against these developments. On the one hand it demonstrates a determination to exert his power over the armed forces, crucial if any coup attempt is to be avoided. At the same time, it may be seen as sending a signal, both to Costa Rica and the US that Ortega is no pushover, whether in the struggle against the drug trade or as a leader that can be removed at any time. As a result, while others in the region (e.g. Panama) have taken offence at Ortega’s rhetoric that other countries have not acted strongly enough against narco-traffickers, it may well be a signal to ensure that Washington backs off – whether in pressuring Ortega to carry out action against the drug trade himself, or to push disaffected elements of Nicaraguan society that would like to see him removed.

Guy Burton is a research associate for the Latin America International Affairs Programme at the LSE Ideas Centre.

A New Security Dilemma: Plan Colombia and the Use of Private Military Companies in South America

In January 2009, Colombian President Alvaro Uribe affirmed that after decades of defeats, his country, together with the United States, was finally succeeding in its main challenge: the long war against the guerrillas involved in drug trafficking. The statement gives the dimension of this issue in this South American country, and the great importance of the United States, with Plan Colombia, on this security issue. However, although rarely addressed, much of U.S. aid is funnelled through Private Military Companies (PMC), which provides staff and services of military nature. Such companies, which became world famous after its widespread use in the Iraq War – where its most quintessential representative, Blackwater, has been accused of systematically violating the International Law of Armed Conflict - have become an essential element in the conflict against the former Marxists guerrillas in South American.

Created in the 2000 by the U.S, "Plan Colombia" is intended, officially, to combat the production and trafficking of cocaine in this country of South America, and plays an important role in the fight against guerrillas who deal with narcotics, mainly the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC). The program has already pumped, until 2009, approximately US$ 1.3 billion, according to the U.S. Department of State.

Of this aid, about 55% is directed to about 25 Private Security Companies, most of them involved with the training of troops, use of Unmanned Aerial Vehicles (UAV) and aid in direct combat with the guerrilla, especially with air support. The hiring of professional soldiers is a common practice in the history of armed conflict. Historically, these soldiers are commonly known as mercenaries. However, modern-day PMCs prefer to call their active staff 'security contractors', defining themselves as private military corporations. This nomenclature is not made by chance, since such companies try to avoid the negative stigma often associated with mercenaries.

It's interesting to note that, under the agreement, the number of U.S. military in Colombia is limited. However, since the treaty refers to American soldiers, the PMCs, whose contractors are designated as civilians, are able to surpass the milestone quite easy. This question is even more important when one analyzes the frequent complaints, from members of Colombian society, about the presence of American troops on their soil and critics who say that the treaty violates the sovereignty of the country.

Legal Ambiguities

The great quarrel, however, is over the legal disputes involving the PMCs. Created mainly in the liberal furor of the 90s, such companies were able to stand apart from legal structures that regulate the use of force internationally. Despite the creation, in 1989, of the UN International Convention Regulating the Use of Mercenaries, the PMCs were not encompassed by the treaty, mainly because they claim they are not directly involved in combat actions. These points led to the creation of a grey area in the International Law, where these companies have the freedom to act without being subject to the normal constraints of a regular armed force. Combining these features with the fact that these companies are formatted as formal enterprises - characterized as "civil support" - there are concerns that, in some cases, the activities of these companies may border on ‘mercenarism’ and compromise the proper democratic accountability for the use of force.

In the Colombian case, such points are seen quite clearly. In recent interviews to researchers from the Brazilian Federal Fluminense University (UFF), members of the Colombian army complained about the lack of legal tools for dealing with the PMCs. According to them, many professionals hired by these companies act as they were above the law, generating constant hierarchical conflicts. Moreover, since they are hired directly by the U.S. State Department, often the PMCs are accused of acting without the consent of the Colombian government.

A new Security Dilemma?

The use of PMCs in Colombia are generating consequences that are still poorly studied and may influence significantly in the security complex of South America. According to a survey conducted by International Humanitarian Organizations, the use of such firms is spreading rapidly across the continent.


Map: PEACEOPS: 2007 - State of the Peace and Stability Operations Industry

There are not any clear analyses to confirm that that the increase in the number of these companies in South America is a direct result of the growth of PMCs in Colombia. However, taking into account the facilities for the use of such companies, their numbers are expected to grow in the coming years. With the lack of agreement in International Law for dealing with them, it’s still unknown how the employment of these professionals will affect the use of force in the region. In addition, there are the recent military agreements involving the nations of the region, such as Unasur. With a growing concern in the security area, it is unclear how the presence of such companies can modify the balance of power.

Nonetheless, the trend towards outsourcing of military services seems to continue and the lack of international jurisdiction to deal with it may generate profound questions about monopoly of force and democratic accountability. In Colombia, such issues become even more blurred, since the largest contractor is a country outside the region.

Fernando Brancoli is a Master´s candidate in Strategic Studies and International Relations at Universidade Federal Fluminense / INEST in Brazil. In recent years, he has worked with International Organizations related to human rights and International Law, including the International Committee of the Red Cross.

Islam and the State

Mention Islam and there is suspicion, fear and outrage in many non-Muslim countries particularly in the West, based on misrepresentation, not least by Muslims themselves. It is seen as some dark influence and threat incompatible with democracy and with the modern state system.

It was not surprising, therefore, that there was a large audience at the seminar on 9 November 2010 organised by the Southeast Asia Programme at LSE IDEAS on "Islam and the State: A Southeast Asian Perspective. " And it was apposite that the discussion should expand beyond the solid base of the paper "Islam and the State in Indonesia" presented by well-known authority on the subject Dr. Bahtiar Effendy.

Dr. Bahtiar traced the history of the relationship between political Islam and the state in Indonesia since its independence in 1945, and found that in the Indonesian modern state system the secular force always kept the upper hand even if the term "secularism" was not used so as not to antagonise Islamic sensitivities. There was a selective application of shariah laws, a partial accommodation with Islamic predisposition, applicable largely to personal but not criminal law. In the long 30 years of Suharto's rule up to 1998 particularly the influence of Islamic political forces was kept under strict check if not exactly for reason of secular instinct alone: Suharto would not accept any challenge to his primacy, not least from the fountain of Islamic appeal. Even when he was deposed in the aftermath of the Asian financial crisis the so very many Islamic parties that sprouted did not find the kind of support that could challlenge the established order.

Professor Gilles Kepel, in his commentary, found some similarities in the Indonesian secular order with that in Turkey and Egypt. He held that an authoritarian order seamlessly categorised Islam as a dangerous threat and made it a scapegoat both for its rule and for its deficiencies. On the other hand, the opposition to this order found it efficacious to use the vocabulary of Islam against the stablished order whether or not truly driven by the call of the religion. Thus Islam gets a bad name in any case.

The containment of the challenge of Islam therefore was not strictly ideological as was not its assertion. So what has it all been about, all the rot we hear about Islam, and all the harm it has ostensibly caused? In countries where Muslims are in a majority, this force called Islamic whatever its basis and whatever it fought for has been kept in check, partly by authoritarian force and partly, as Dr. Bakhtiar contends, by economic satisfaction. Yet in countries where Muslims are in a minority assertion of Islamic right seems to be more strident and effective.

This speaks to a greater democracy in Islamic-minority countries but also to a more intense insistence by minority communities. There is greater abuse both of situation and of religion. In this instance the only weapon of argument can only be better understanding and wider exposure. Certainly a more difficult proposition than the hard fist of authoritarian rule. There is no alternative in the West, if democracy is its credo, to argument about Islam and how it is being misrepresented.

Islam is a tolerant (refer to the Al-Kafirun) and moderate (refer to the Al-Baqarrah) religion and the very often extremist expression is its deviant side, not the other way around. Form and hate are no substitute to substance and love. While there is a place for rituals under fardu 'Ain there is at least equal emphasis in the religion to fardu Kifayah (social obligations, duties and contribution to society). In talking about Islam and the state, while there is obviously need to relate the politics and the history, there cannot be avoided a discussion about Islam itself and how it is being practised.

Dr Munir Majid is Head of the Southeast Asia International Affairs Programme.

The Global 1989

Last night at IDEAS, a roundtable of leading academics debated a new edited volume: The Global 1989. Here one of the editors, George Lawson, explores the ways in which the central dynamics of contemporary world politics have been shaped, for better or worse, by the social forces unleashed in Central and Eastern Europe some twenty years ago. 

One of the central motifs of Milan Kundera’s The Book of Laughter and Forgetting is the ways in which the present works to distort the past. To that end, Kundera tells the story of a photograph taken of two leading Czech communists, Vladimír Clementis and Klement Gottwald, celebrating the takeover of state power by communists in Czechoslovakia in 1948. The picture was later doctored to remove Clementis, following charges brought against him for ‘deviationism’ and ‘bourgeois nationalism’.  

The erasure of Clementis from the photograph sought to remove one of the leading architects of the Czech post-war state from the country’s history. Clementis was denounced, put on trial and, eventually, executed. In some ways, of course, the very everydayness of this episode is its most disturbing aspect. The routinisation of coercion within totalitarian states – the use of murder and imprisonment, the control of populations via vast coercive apparatuses, the establishment of insidious networks of corruption – was the norm rather than the exception. As such, the events of 1989 and the disappearance of ‘tyrannies of certitude’ from most parts of Central and Eastern Europe are acts well worth celebrating. 

Alongside the pronounced celebrations that marked the passing of state socialism in 1989 lies a second widely held view – that 1989 serves the ur -demarcation point in contemporary world politics. Indeed, both academics and policy-makers tend to use 1989 and its surrogate frames (such as Cold War/post-Cold War) as the principal normative, analytical and empirical shorthands for delineating past and present. And as with the celebrations over 1989 and its associated events, such abbreviations are made for often sound reasons. Not only was 1989 a significant event for those people living in the immediate Soviet sphere of influence, it had important ramifications for those inhabiting (now often former) socialist states around the world. 

In The Global 1989, my colleagues and I used these two assumptions as the starting point for our discussions. But the book also seeks to go further, questioning three issues which lie behind, or perhaps lurk beneath, their easy acceptance. First, although the events of 1989 are, to be sure, acts worthy of celebration, they have also engendered some unintended, yet important, consequences, perhaps most notable amongst them exposure of the chronic weaknesses contained in a hyperventilated form of liberal capitalism. One of the core wagers of the Global 1989 is that the collapse of communism and the end of the Cold War have produced mixed, paradoxical, even contradictory outcomes. Although the political, economic and cultural orders generated after the fall of communism have, for the most part, been an improvement on what was in place before, this has not always been clear-cut. Substantively, 1989 has bequeathed an ambivalent legacy. 

Second, although 1989 can serve as a useful barometer between old and new, we should be cautious about the general utility of this shorthand – there have been considerable continuities between the pre- and post-1989 eras, whether this is seen in the maintenance of power by a post-totalitarian nomenklatura in Russia and China, or in the ways in which post-Cold War capitalist expansion serves as a return to long-established exploitative practices, albeit on novel scales. In this way, a complex picture emerges in terms of the temporality of 1989, one which embraces important continuities alongside, and to some extent instead of, simple notions of ‘all change’. 

Third, although the principal events and effects of 1989 took place in Europe, going beyond 1989’s immediate zone of impact reveals the many spaces of the ‘global 1989’. The failures of Western capitalism, political institutions and cultural mores since 1989 have fostered new forms of opposition to Western order: political Islam, freed from its focus on the communist enemy; Latin American populism, no longer subject to Western concerns over ‘extended deterrence’; and renewed forms of authoritarian rule in China and elsewhere, even if these now appear more as forms of political coercion than as alternative means of economic or ideological competition. In this sense, although the end of the Cold War has been felt mostly strongly in Europe, trends elsewhere have been unanticipated. We have been here before, of course. But this time, relative Western decline may be for real. 

Yogi Berra, the famous American baseball player and pundit, once said that ‘it is tough to make predictions, especially about the future’. 1989 is no exception to his maxim. Some twenty years after the fall, it is difficult to recall the sense of surprise and excitement which emerged from the removal of the Soviet empire, first in Eastern and Central Europe and, some two years later, from its own backyard. As the international media moved from city to city, and increasing numbers of Europeans came onto the streets in order to chase away the old order and to welcome in the new, there was a sense of the world shifting beneath people’s feet. 

But although there have been, and there remain, claims to the exceptional in 1989, a fundamental rupture in world order does not appear to have taken place. Rather, much akin to the bionic man, the post-1989 era is quicker, stronger, faster but not, alas, more peaceful. What is clear is that we should neither laugh (in triumphalism) about the events of 1989, nor forget (in an attempt to control the past) the lessons of the post-1989 era. After all, as Kundera notes, ‘the struggle against power is the struggle of memory against forgetting’. Remembering the complexities, contradictions and paradoxes of the post-1989 remains an urgent task. 

George Lawson is Lecturer in International Relations at LSE