It is clear that the challenge of peace support in Africa is an immense one, a challenge that will not be met by rhetoric and catchy clichés such as African solutions to African problems. It is also clear that the present and future peace support environments in the Balkans and in Africa are and will be anything but benign. Why then does the mainstream debate on ‘peacekeeping’ in Africa focus on the need for more ‘blue helmet’ type training for African soldiers — while the countries of the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) focus on developing doctrine for more ‘robust’ interventions?

Part of the answer to this question lies in the inherent difficulties of building consensus among the 53 member states of the Organisation of African Unity (OAU) around an integrated military doctrine for peace support that goes beyond ‘classic’ consensual operations. A number of recent international and regional conferences and workshops bear witness to the sensitivities surrounding this issue — not only among politicians and scholars, but also among military practitioners themselves.

But the key problem lies in defining appropriate limits and boundaries for what can conceivably be executed under the rubric of ‘peace support operations’. With blue helmet operations all but defunct, the failure to circumscribe and expand the concept of peacekeeping has seen a diverse array of African military interventions, ostensibly in support of ‘peace’. These have been manifested in such unlikely peacekeeping interventions as mercenary operations in Angola and Sierra Leone, the bombardment of Freetown by the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) Monitoring Group (ECOMOG), the invasion of Lesotho by Southern African Development Community (SADC) ‘forces’, and the combat operations of ‘SADC forces’ in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC).

In the Balkans, the rationale for intervention has not been as overtly political as in Africa, but the results have been no less destructive — as witnessed in the ‘humanitarian’ air blitz on Kosovo and Belgrade. The multifaceted United Nations-based interventionism of the 1990s and the more recent and focused military coalition interventions — ostensibly motivated by humanitarianism — have added a new twist to the intervention debate. Some analysts now see the ‘right of humanitarian intervention’ as forming part of the new international order.1

However, there is still very little consensus on when, where and how to intervene — and with whose authority. As the UN Secretary-General has put it: "In Kosovo a group of states intervened without seeking authority from the United Nations Security Council. In [East] Timor the council has now authorised intervention, but only after obtaining an invitation from Indonesia ... As in Rwanda five years ago, the international community stands accused of doing too little, too late ... Neither of these precedents is satisfactory as a model for the new millennium."2

The aim of this contribution is to highlight a number of key unresolved issues regarding the present and future conduct of peace support operations on the African continent. These issues are grouped into three main areas of enquiry: when and where to intervene, who should intervene, and how to intervene.

The question of when and where to intervene legitimately can be answered, rather simplistically, with a brief reference to the UN Charter. Chapter VII deals with Action With Respect to Threats to the Peace, Breaches of the Peace, and Acts of Aggression. It empowers the Security Council to decide on measures to be taken to restore peace (implicitly, once a dispute has degenerated into armed conflict and has been identified by the Security Council as a threat to the peace, breach of the peace, or act of aggression). Through Chapter VII, the UN Security Council is empowered to investigate alleged violations of the peace and then determine measures to be taken against the states concerned.

However, the UN Charter was clearly drafted with the view to regulate relationships among its members, in other words, independent states. It granted all members equal status, and assumed that states would continue to be the primary and sovereign actors in international relations. It does not contain provisions whereby the Security Council or General Assembly may relate to non-state agencies such as rebel movements, communal minorities, or political parties. Indeed, Article 2(7) states that:

"Nothing contained in the present Charter shall authorise the United Nations to intervene in matters which are essentially within the domestic jurisdiction of any state or shall require the Members to submit such matters to settlement under the present Charter; but this principle shall not prejudice the application of enforcement measures under Chapter VII."

This means that, theoretically at least, no invitation or consent is needed for UN intervention when the internal situation in any state is designated by the Security Council as a threat to the peace, breach of the peace, or act of aggression. The utility of this framework for intervening in order to end civil wars is, however, far more problematic than ‘simple’ intervention aimed at reversing acts of international aggression.

There has been little rigorous study on the relationship between external intervention and the outcome of intrastate conflicts. Greater knowledge about the internal dynamics of civil wars would undoubtedly help in assessing the utility of intervention, and the relationship between such intervention and durable peace. But it is a simple fact that most civil wars have ended with the outright military victory of one side over the other, and that the most stable peace settlements have resulted from military victory rather than external mediation and negotiations. On the other hand, such military victories in civil wars are often characterised by the widespread abuse of human rights, massive displacement of peoples, environmental degradation and even genocide — all of which militate against national reconciliation and post-conflict reconstruction.3 This, in essence, poses the dilemma of ‘humanitarian intervention’, not only as a right, but also as a duty.

‘Humanitarian intervention’ may be defined as military intervention in a state without the approval of its authorities, for the purpose of preventing widespread suffering or death among its inhabitants. Increasingly, the term has confusingly been used to refer to the provision of major humanitarian assistance to people in an emergency situation, not necessarily involving the use of armed force, and not necessarily against the will of the government of those people.4

Even the military, with its well-known penchant for definitional clarity, seems confused by the notion of humanitarian intervention. For example, extant NATO peace support operations doctrine does not refer to ‘humanitarian intervention’, but it does specify ‘humanitarian operations’ as a subset of peace support operations. By way of definition, it explains simply that:

"Humanitarian operations are conducted to alleviate human suffering. Humanitarian operations may precede or accompany humanitarian activities provided by specialised civilian organisations."5

Briefly mentioned under the rubric of humanitarian operations are ‘humanitarian assistance’, ‘disaster relief’, and ‘protection of human rights’. Under the latter, the doctrine states that "[t]he protection of human rights is a fundamental element of all military operations. However, the prevention and redress of wide spread abuses to human rights will require a [peace enforcement] force ..."6

Importantly, the doctrine goes on to emphasise that "[i]n the conduct of [peace enforcement] the link between political and military objectives must be extremely close", while recognising that such interventions are "... increasingly into situations of widespread human rights abuses including genocide and ethnic cleansing associated with collapsed or collapsing states."7

The fact that military organisations are embracing humanitarian and human rights objectives has led to a perceived politicisation of humanitarian assistance under certain circumstances and to the ‘humanisation’ of military force under others. Humanitarian intervention thus remains an ambiguous concept that provides little practical guidance on when and where to intervene in armed conflict. Its basis, formulation, and implementation are widely discussed, yet there seems to be no international consensus on the principles which guide it and its boundaries.

There is also no universal measure of how much human suffering, on what scale, is so intolerable that states will invoke the right of humanitarian intervention to alleviate this suffering. The threshold of suffering that would invoke intervention varies according to factors such as mass media exposure, ethnic affinity and perceived national interests, rather than any kind of objective criteria. The net result is that a great deal more human suffering will be tolerable and tolerated in Africa than in Europe or the Americas. As Annan has noted,

"... the commitment of the world to peacekeeping, to humanitarian assistance, to rehabilitation and reconstruction varies greatly from region to region, and crisis to crisis. If the new commitment to humanitarian action is to retain the support of the world’s peoples, it must be-and must be seen to be-universal, irrespective of region or nation. Humanity, after all, is indivisible."8

These undeniably noble sentiments are unlikely to be converted into action. As the Secretary-General himself admits: "...The world has changed in profound ways since the end of the Cold War, but I fear our conceptions of national interest have failed to follow suit."9 Indeed, most capable interventionists embrace the same type of policy restraints as those imposed by the United States’ PDD-25, a kind of ‘no more Somalias’ doctrine.10 This unwillingness to embrace a universal humanitarianism and the notion that intervention must be strongly predicated on national interests are also apparent among African states.

Indeed, the increasing trend towards humanitarian action appears to reflect a mainly Western preoccupation. In this respect, Minear and Weis have noted that:

This is not to say that indigenous African culture is devoid of humanity.12 However, current African approaches to conflict resolution appear to differ from Western notions for broadening the concept of peace support to include forceful humanitarian interventions — or they may merely reflect the reality that all interventions are steeped in political motives. For example, African subregional organisations such as ECOMOG and SADC have pursued overtly political objectives (regional stability) as rationale for intervention. Neither organisation has laid claim to the right of intervention on humanitarian grounds, and this motive has been remarkably absent from the security debate on a continent where humanitarian needs are so poignant.

Moreover, the forceful operations of ECOMOG in Sierra Leone and the ‘SADC coalitions’ in Lesotho and the DRC have borne little resemblance to contemporary UN or NATO peace support operations. The March 1999 NATO air blitz on Yugoslavia, under the mantle of ‘humanitarianism’, indicates that the West indeed accepts the need for forceful humanitarian intervention, but it is unlikely that it will use its ‘smart’ weapons to prevent genocide in Africa. As the Lesotho intervention proves, the West will also be reluctant to condemn more primitive forms of peace enforcement on the African continent.

The when and where to intervene is therefore a function of political will — and will be decided on a case-by-case basis by a variety of actors: individual countries, ad hoc coalitions, multilateral organisations and military alliances, and/or the UN Security Council. As Maninger has noted:

"Interventions are a product of a number of coinciding factors. The preconditions [for intervention] are seldom applied fairly and instead base themselves predominantly on a geopolitical priority list. Africa’s place on that priority list will vary from case to case ..."13

Nevertheless, the decision to intervene and the underlying motives will be a key determinant of the appropriate intervening agent for the job, and this, in turn, will shape the nature and scope of the intervention itself.

During the Cold War, there was a fair understanding of a simple division of labour whereby the UN mounted military peace operations and observer missions while regional organisations concentrated on preventive political and diplomatic measures. This changed in the 1990s. A proliferation of devastating internal conflicts saw several actors (governmental, intergovernmental and non-governmental) becoming involved in attempts to resolve or ameliorate the same conflicts.14 This soon led to the idea of layered responses to African crises, whereby the initial response would come from local and national organisations, followed by responses at the subregional and regional (OAU) levels, and finally by those of the UN and the broader international community. It was thought that this would overcome inertia at the level of the UN, and enable more rapid and appropriate responses at much lower levels of the international security framework.

According to Margaret Vogt: "One of the most important innovations in the management of international security in the post-Cold War era is the concept of shared responsibility between the United Nations and some regional organisations for the effective management of conflicts within the regions of the world. Africa is the first region where extensive efforts have been made recently to formalise the relationship between the UN and the regional organisation, in this case the Organisation of African Unity (OAU), with the specific objective of enhancing the management of conflicts in the region."15

Under the auspices of the Mechanism for Conflict Prevention, Management and Resolution, the OAU is indeed mandated to co-ordinate its activities closely with the UN and with African regional and subregional organisations, and to co-operate, where appropriate, with neighbouring countries. There is thus a strong perception among Africans that the future of conflict resolution and peacekeeping rests on a pyramidal security framework, described by Nhara as follows:

"In graphic terms, and for the purposes of conflict management, the partnership between the United Nations and the Organisation of African Unity, together with its corresponding sub-regional organisations, should be akin to a pyramid. At the top of that pyramid should be the United Nations as a world body, and as the supreme organ for ensuring peace and security, worldwide. At the bottom of that pyramid should be the sub-regional organisations. And, between the apex and the base, the OAU should provide the critical linkage."16

The great advantage of this type of approach to conflict management in Africa is that neighbours are more familiar with each other’s problems than outsiders. Neighbours usually have a fairly common culture, a common social identity, a common history and similar experiences. The disadvantage, however, is that close proximity often generates tension and reduces the spirit of impartiality between neighbours — to the extent that they sometimes become part of the problem, rather than part of the solution.17

An overriding interest in their neighbourhood’s stability, and their actual or potential leverage with disputants, means that subregional organisations such as ECOWAS, the Inter-Governmental Authority on Development (IGAD) and SADC may be uniquely qualified to launch preventive diplomacy efforts — and perhaps to effect negotiated settlements in cases of civil war. However, the role of regional organisations in conflict resolution has become extremely convoluted. ‘Peacekeeping’ has become more robust than ever before, and new operations are increasingly launched with a strong Chapter VII mandate. Drawing extensively on the ECOMOG experience, and perhaps confused by NATO’s unique resources as a military alliance without peer, these peace missions have been delegated to regional organisations and arrangements because, as Annan has admitted:

"The United Nations does not have ... the institutional capacity to conduct military enforcement measures under Chapter VII. Under present conditions, ad hoc Member States coalitions of the willing offer the most effective deterrent to aggression or to the escalation or spread of an ongoing conflict ..."18

There has indeed been significant evidence of this. Substantial and forceful multinational operations have been conducted since 1990 by ECOWAS in West Africa, and since July 1992 by Russia and the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) in Georgia, Azerbaijan and Tadjikistan. While this robust ‘peacekeeping’ has been undertaken by regional organisations and alliances, much smaller UN missions have been deployed to observe the ‘peacekeepers’, as well as the belligerents (for example UNOMIL in Liberia, UNOMIG in Georgia, and UNMOT in Tadjikistan).

Beyond the inherent limitations of the UN system itself, sensitivity to violence and low tolerance for casualties effectively eliminate Western involvement in any type of peace enforcement operation that goes beyond the ‘distant retaliation doctrine’ underpinning Operation Desert Storm and the more recent NATO aerial operations in Kosovo. The reluctance to deploy ground forces in combat situations where the distinction between friend and foe, or soldier and civilian is unclear, is far greater when the region in question is of little strategic significance — as is the case with most conflict zones in Africa.

These trends have been accepted rather uncritically by African analysts and policy makers, while those from the West have not had the courage to challenge the proponents of ‘backyard peacekeeping’ in the Russian ‘near abroad’ and in Africa — so long as such operations do not demand sacrifices of Western soldiers.

It is now commonly accepted that the security dilemma of marginal African states can be addressed by constructing larger units of security. However, the prospects for sub-regional collective security or even defence regimes developing successfully in Africa cannot be considered good, exactly because states remain the basic building blocks and decisional loci of multinational security regimes. The process of state formation and statebuilding in Africa, on the whole, has not produced very strong foundation stones for larger security constructs. Since the demise of the Cold War, African states have become ever more vulnerable to armed insurgencies. In many countries, insurgent movements now not only rival the juridical state as a unit of coercion, they have also emerged as competing centres of security.19

The devolution of peacekeeping responsibilities to African countries is thus predicated largely on attempts to build hollow multilateral structures for conflict resolution — both at the level of the OAU and that of subregional organisations. Attempts to refine the relations between the two levels of organisation — that are similarly composed of weak member states and are lacking significant resources — are thus also bound to be fruitless. Unless, of course, the need to place statebuilding and good governance at the centre of such efforts is accepted, and the debate on the utility of such organisations for conflict resolution is stripped of much of its customary politeness and hypocrisy. As Vogt so candidly puts it:

"The OAU and the African sub-regional organisations need to be clearer on the moral and political principles which should inform the relationships between and within states in the region. These organisations should uphold minimum standards, the violation of which should be sanctioned equally across the board, and not only when the culprit is a relatively less powerful member of the organisation."20

The emerging concept for the conduct of OAU peace operations envisages the use of subregional organisations as a possible first line of reaction where the OAU is unable to act. The African chiefs of defence staff have recommended a brigade-sized contribution from each of the five African subregions, as a starting point for this type of capacity.22 However, it is necessary to move beyond the mere idea of earmarking troops. As Maninger has noted:

"In the final analysis, it might be prudent for African States to accept that they are unlikely to receive massive foreign assistance in expanding regional capabilities and that they cannot expect direct foreign intervention to be more than a rare exception. Solutions to the continent’s plagued conflict areas, will ultimately require a fundamental paradigm shift in this regard."23

The ‘paradigm’ has already shifted towards a greater reliance on regional security arrangements. What is needed is a focus on modest measures for the prevention and containment of conflicts, rather than attempts to replicate the UN system at the regional level. The emphasis should be on simple but reliable structures for security co-operation, ones that can stabilise relations and prevent the spillover of conflicts.24 If this co-operation is to include joint military enforcement operations in support of peace processes, then this should be determined upfront, and the necessary legitimacy for such a course sought through the establishment of appropriate structures and principles for the conduct of such operations.

It is widely accepted that short-term measures to prevent the outbreak of fighting, or to stop fighting which has already started, must be bolstered by long-term measures to address the root causes of the conflict. As most African countries lack the capacity to export significant amounts of development aid and assistance, there is a continuing and unambiguous need to engage the broader international community in support of regional development efforts.

Beyond the development imperative, however, the process of ‘peacebuilding’ involves the inculcation of respect for human rights and political pluralism; the accommodation of diversity; building the capacity of state and civil institutions; and promoting economic growth and equity. These measures are the most effective means of preventing crises, and are therefore as much pre-crisis as post-crisis priorities. In all cases, peacebuilding should aim at the empowerment of peoples and should be based on local traditions and experiences, rather than the imposition of foreign modes of conflict management and governance.

African leaders have the potential to shape thinking in this regard, even if the resources for financial assistance and project implementation must be sought from the broader international community. But the latter is a subtle process, from which few diplomatic kudos can be gained. It also requires a good measure of introspection and example-setting in the realm of good and transparent governance. Most leaders are therefore more interested in direct diplomatic action in the realm of conflict prevention and resolution. ‘Peacemaking’ has thus become the favoured response to emerging African conflicts.

However, the vast majority of Africa’s actual and potential conflicts are internal within the state.25 This makes peacemaking an extremely complicated undertaking, and one of dubious utility, beyond the narcissistic effects on the members of the growing club of African peacemakers. The apparent ease with which the members of this club have lately been embarking on aircraft bound for the DRC and some of its bellicose neighbours belies the fact that this is no game for amateurs.

There is great political sensitivity around the causes of intrastate conflict, for they have to do with issues such as the quality of governance; the way law and order are maintained; the equity of economic and social systems; and ethnic discrimination. Beleaguered governments understandably tend to resist the attempts of outsiders to address these issues. There is also not much joy to be had from the other side of the bargaining table, which is normally occupied by an insurgent movement or movements. Rebels are likely to be amply supplied with arms, obsessively secretive, inexperienced in negotiation, without transparent lines of authority, undisciplined, violent and unfamiliar with the norms of international behaviour. They are obviously not easy people for even seasoned diplomats to deal with.26

Moreover, governments themselves (or at least some key government officials), as well as various warlords, are likely to be benefiting from a war-based economy. This involves the exploitation of natural/national resources, under cover of the conflict situation, for self-enrichment. The intractability of internal conflicts also relates to the high levels of violence and the viciousness with which civil wars are prosecuted. In some cases, ‘ethnic cleansing’ or even genocide is included in the military objectives of belligerents. Large-scale violence within states thus tends to be more protracted than wars between states.27 The scope for suggestions on compromise and conciliation may therefore be very limited.

It is not surprising that, despite the contemporary preoccupation with promoting the settlement of intrastate wars at the bargaining table, the record shows that negotiated peace has been a relatively rare outcome.28 Of course, there have been more negotiated cease-fires than there have been comprehensive political settlements, but this is not necessarily a good thing. In Angola, for example, a number of cease-fires and peace accords have been brokered by outsiders over the past two decades, only to be broken by the signatories themselves — despite significant international supervision and assistance.

There is also a need for better timing and co-ordination of peacemaking endeavours — as illustrated by the Ethiopia-Eritrean border war, which began in May 1998. The day after this crisis erupted, Asmara called for international mediation.29 A flurry of diplomatic ‘peacemaking’ activity ensued, conducted by such diverse actors as: Susan Rice, Paul Kagame, Salim Ahmed Salim, Hassan Aptidon and Moamar Gadhafi. Ethiopia and Eritrea both used the interlude provided by these and subsequent diplomatic initiatives to arm their forces to the hilt. No peacekeeping force was mustered, and the conflict remains unresolved to this day. Too much unco-ordinated peacemaking, implemented too soon, can obviously be counterproductive.

Annan’s report on conflict in Africa clearly states that peacemaking efforts need to be well co-ordinated and well prepared. The Secretary-General warns that "the failure of the major external actors to maintain a common political approach to an erupting or ongoing crisis is one of the principal impediments to progress towards a solution," and that "... it is critically important that international actors avoid the temptation to undertake rival or competing efforts."30

The current fascination with brokering cease-fires and applying ‘conventional’ steps towards a peaceful settlement may also prolong conflicts rather than resolve them. Cease-fires allow warring parties to rest, regroup, re-arm and retrain. Once a cease-fire has been signed, no side is faced with imminent defeat or the prospect of intolerable losses. This allows them to direct their energies towards the next round of fighting, and the very incentive for a lasting settlement is removed.31 The case of Angola also highlights the possible long-term negative effects of third-party peacemaking — of pushing belligerents towards an agreement that they do not really want. It also confirms the fact that war-based economies will not disappear with the signing of formal peace agreements and the deployment of international observers and aid agencies.

The obvious lesson from Angola is that some conflicts just have to run their course until war fatigue makes mediation and compliance with the terms of peace agreements a more rational option than the continued prosecution of political aims by violent means. As Maninger has observed:

"It is very important for people in conflict zones to become tired of war, before they develop a consensus-capability which is conducive to resolving the conflict and implementing a lasting peaceful solution."32

This wisdom was not applied to settling the August 1998 rebellion of the Rassemblement congolais pour la démocratie (RCD) against the government of President Laurent-Desire Kabila. Military hostilities had hardly commenced before the first of a number of increasingly complicated ‘layers’ of responses to the conflict were made. These ranged from military intervention on the side of Kabila by three SADC states, to Pretoria’s plaintive cries for a ‘negotiated settlement’. Although SADC appointed Zambian President Federick Chiluba as the ‘official mediator’, a peacemaking process of shuttle diplomacy involving dozens of regional heads of state and Foreign and Defence ministers eventually gave birth to a cease-fire agreement which was signed by the leaders of the six states party to the conflict in Lusaka on 10 July 1999 — but not by the Congolese rebel groups.33

Yet, the peacemakers persisted in their efforts until, on 31 August 1999, the RCD eventually signed the cease-fire agreement in Lusaka. The compromise agreement that was brokered provided for all fifty founding members of the RCD to sign the document. The problem with this inventive diplomacy is that the Lusaka agreement allowed for each signatory — then envisaged to be the states involved plus the RCD and the Mouvement de liberation congolais (MLC)34 — to nominate two members each to the Joint Military Commission. Within hours of the RCD signatures, disagreements arose between the Goma and Kisangani factions, with both insisting on representation on the JMC.35 The compromise agreement therefore merely deferred the problem of the RCD split to consideration of the JMC’s make-up.

However, the tenuous Lusaka agreement has held amidst frequent accusations of significant cease-fire violations. Although the implementation timetable outlined in the Lusaka accord has already slipped badly, the UN is going through the motions of planning to deploy military observers as a prelude to some kind of multifunctional peace mission.

In less than a decade, peace support operations have evolved rapidly and in an ad hoc fashion, from classical peacekeeping (involving military interposition to monitor inter-state cease-fire agreements) to complex multidimensional interventions where the military component is but one of many participants within any particular peace process. The concepts of preventive diplomacy, preventive deployment, humanitarian assistance, peacemaking and peacebuilding have all been incorporated in an holistic vision of comprehensive and ambitious peace missions. This has given rise to what the Pearson Peacekeeping Centre has dubbed the new peacekeeping partnership — a partnership that includes the military, civilian police, government and non-governmental agencies, diplomats, the media, and organisations sponsoring development and democratisation programmes.

However, it is unclear how this partnership is to be constructed within the rubric of ‘indigenising’ peace missions in Africa. While military units and formations are tangible, easily identifiable entities, the so-called ‘civilian component’ of modern peace missions is highly amorphous. The exact number and mix of civilian roleplayers will depend on the particular demands of the peace process, and will differ from mission to mission.

This has created unprecedented challenges in the realm of co-operation, co-ordination and the higher management of peace missions. The latter is compounded by the fact that UN civilian personnel are appointed as individuals who are not responsible to their national governments, while many other civilians working in the field are employed by a wide variety of private or non-government organisations (NGOs) which are not part of the UN system. The co-ordination, integration, and fostering of unity of effort among the various mission components have become dominant topics of debates in polite peacekeeping circles, and these challenges are indeed being addressed in the doctrinal development of Western military organisations.

However, such concerns are largely peripheral to the debate on the future of African peacekeeping. The dominant peacekeeping partnership that is emerging for Africans has nothing to do with the ‘civilian component’. It is framed by Chapter VIII of the UN Charter and sees the countries of the North helping African countries to resolve their own armed conflicts — implicitly through multinational military intervention. Pertinently, all the major African peacekeeping capacity-building initiatives have focused exclusively on military training for peacekeepers.

The military focus of foreign training initiatives is not surprising, as the key players in respect of humanitarian assistance, human rights action, and economic and social action are not national or regional actors from Africa or the South. They are international intergovernmental organisations, international aid agencies, and NGOs from the northern hemisphere. It is therefore extremely unlikely that any African nation (or regional grouping of nations) would contribute significantly towards the range of actors that make up the new peacekeeping partnership.

In the absence of a well-funded, vibrant and internationally focused civil society in Africa, the bulk of the ‘civilian component’ of multinational peace missions will continue to be provided by the North (with the exception of local employees with little decision-making power). Peacekeeping that is increasingly conducted under regional auspices (or by ad hoc coalitions of the willing) in Africa will therefore continue to be dominated by the blunt military instrument. The concept of multifunctional peace missions and the idea of a ‘new peacekeeping partnership’ thus has more relevance for the developed countries of the North than for those in Africa. This may be explained in terms of a surplus of individuals with relevant occupational skills in the North, longer experience within the UN system, greater financial resources, and more.

However, if much greater responsibility for keeping the peace is indeed to be devolved to Africans themselves, then there are two basic options. The first is to accept that African peace missions must necessarily be conducted according to standards and principles that are necessarily more ‘brutal’ and unsophisticated, and which leave little space for ‘new peacekeeping partnerships’. The second option would be to insist on a more balanced approach to African capacity-building initiatives — one that focuses with equal aplomb on engaging and integrating the (albeit elusive) ‘civilian component’ into the theory and praxis of African intervention.

The second option is unlikely to materialise in the near future, and this creates the need for some hard-headed thinking on African doctrine for peace operations. ‘Mainstream’ peace support operation doctrine focuses increasingly on elusive entry criteria and utopian endstates. However, the means available to interventionists will always fall horribly short of desirable endstates, and it is unlikely that contemporary conflict scenarios will produce rational entry criteria — especially where Africa is concerned. But Africans must take careful note of this mainstream doctrine. It not only addresses issues of ‘how to intervene’, but also provides vital clues on ‘who should intervene’, where the articulated criteria for intervention are simply not present.

Even if some or most of the entry and exit criteria can be met, as long as no Western power feels threatened by African conflicts, the prospects for outside intervention remain weak. This is morally indefensible and potentially subversive of the idea of enforcing general human standards under multilateral authorisation, and it clearly contravenes the legal obligation of governments to deal with acts of genocide. However, it serves no purpose to bemoan the situation and wait for the dawning of a new international rectitude. The focus should rather fall on what can (and cannot) be done by Africans under these circumstances.

In Western states, doctrinal thinkers have been preoccupied with questions of consent: hence the quarrels over Chapter VI or Chapter VII (traditional peacekeeping versus peace support operations). Progress in the development of doctrine for peace support operations in the African context needs to take account of theories developed elsewhere in the United Kingdom, the United States and in the former Soviet world. It was agreed at the Harare workshop that:

"Doctrine for on-going and future [peace support operations] in the African context must be informed by certain African realities that are inevitably different from the environment that has shaped European and American doctrinal development."36

In this context, it should be remembered that the whole issue of building African capacity for the conduct of peace support operations is inextricably linked to the Rwandese genocide of 1994. During the holocaust that lasted from April to July 1994, Hutu extremists "systematically hacked down, shot and blew up tens of thousands of Tutsis and Hutu moderates."37 By August 1994 as many as 500 000 Rwandese had been killed, three million had been internally displaced, and more than two million had fled to neighbouring countries — out of a total pre-war population of approximately seven million. Women and children suffered most from the aftermath of the genocide, with an estimated 47 000 children orphaned, 250 000 to 500 000 women raped, and 2 000 to 5 000 children outcast because they were conceived as a result of rape.38

Following the death of ten Belgian soldiers serving in UNAMIR in April 1994, the force was reduced to a mere 270, in the midst of the genocide. Former UNAMIR force commander, Romeo Dalaire, stated that if he "... had gotten [sic] 2,500 to 4,000 effective troops in the first month, hundreds of thousands of people would have survived."39 As the UN Secretary-General observed, the international community’s reaction to the genocide in Rwanda demonstrated graphically its extreme inadequacy to respond with prompt and decisive action to humanitarian crises entwined with armed conflict. It has also been said of the Rwandese tragedy that:

"... if the UN had at its disposal even a small, rapidly-deployable constabulary force of lightly-armed troops, it might have been able to prevent this new chapter in man’s cruelty to man. Indeed, the speed with which such a force could be deployed may be more important than its tactical proficiency, which may need to be only marginally better than rag-tag local forces to have a profound effect."40

This observation has wider implications for the debate on peacekeeping in Africa. Rebel forces in Africa typically rely on lightly armed foot soldiers and their ability to mobilise local populations to join their cause through persuasion or coercion. They often have no access to more sophisticated weaponry than assault rifles, light machine guns and mortars. For example, the destruction of the Liberian state began in 1989 when Charles Taylor invaded the country from the Côte d’Ivoire with a lightly armed, Libyan-trained force numbering about 100 men. If even a modest intervention force with tactical aviation assets had been in place, this incursion may easily have been halted.

If this is the kind of contingency that Africans should prepare for, then the OAU chiefs of staff recommendation of a standby brigade in each of the five African subregions may be closer to the mark than is realised. But this must be linked to a realistic concept of operations and modalities for extremely rapid deployment. However, the current debate on multifunctional peace missions, ‘new peacekeeping partnerships’, entry and exit criteria, and endstates, among others, has shifted the focus from the real problem at hand. ECOMOG experiences in West Africa (from which the bulk of African ‘lessons learned’ can be drawn) indicate the need for a concept of operations that will result in the quick termination of potentially ruinous and protracted conflicts.

The primary aim of such operations should be to stabilise the ailing state in order to stop the killing and maiming of civilians in the shortest possible time. This demands recognition that a multilateral military intervention should aim to alter the internal balance of power, thereby allowing a sufficiently decisive military victory to get all parties to the negotiating table. It implies the rejection of the traditional notions of impartiality and consent as a basis for intervention.

"In a number of [African] countries, the state is slowly being merged into a web of informal business associations instituted by rulers who have little interest in carrying out the traditional functions of the state and who do not recognise or respect boundaries, while enriching themselves through trade."41

When a multinational coalition force intervenes on the side of a legal (though corrupt) regime, such intervention should therefore be predicated on a pre-agreed and viable programme for establishing political accountability, with milestones that can be monitored by the local and international community (for example, the freeing of political prisoners and unbanning political parties). There was clearly no such contitionality attached to the ‘SADC allies’ intervention on behalf of Kabila last August.

An unambiguous intervention policy has both military and political advantages over a peacekeeping operation. At the political level, taking sides from the outset enables the intervening actor to side-step the difficult task of protecting the neutral image of the intervention force, and it facilitates the co-ordination of field activity and diplomatic bargaining. Outcomes depend more on the leverage of the interventionist than on attempts to create proposals based on broad appeals intended to generate voluntary compliance by diverse conflicting groups. Direct, partial intervention also allows the military to concentrate on military and security objectives with a clarity of purpose that is absent in impartial peacekeeping.42

At the grand strategic level, the decision to intervene in order to terminate an internal armed conflict requires that a Faustian bargain should be struck. It involves accepting a need to choose between the lesser of two evils, in terms of both the parties to the conflict and the degree of force that would predictably be necessary for restoring a measure of stability while minimising the number of civilian casualties. It may mean the provision of assistance to a beleaguered government in forcing the opposition into submission, but this assistance must be predicated, in turn, on that government’s willingness to submit to the terms and conditions set by the multilateral organisation that authorises the intervention.

At the operational level, the idea would be to construct a minimum winning coalition consisting of the favoured army and the multinational conflict termination force. The ultimate aim is to regain a monopoly of military force, in order to bring armed violence under central control and to induce all belligerents to the bargaining table. This basic precondition for starting a viable peace process has consistently been ignored in African conflicts, from Angola to Sierra Leone. As Mackinlay has noted:

"Unless a monopoly of violence can be achieved, any attempt to disarm will expose the vulnerable, law abiding element of the community to local gangs, who are certain not to disarm."43

Recentralising the power within a broken state is thus the key challenge, and this necessarily involves the application and systematic monopolisation of military force.

As with all types of forceful intervention, this type of operation would need to be legitimised. Multilateralism in itself implies a commitment to the principles governing the conduct of relations among states, as stipulated in the UN Charter. In as much as it reflects a commitment to international principles, multilateralism tends to confer legitimacy on the military actions of nations. But African multilateral organisations such as SADC need to clarify their legal status with respect to the maintenance of regional security — and the use of force in conflict termination clearly demands Security Council authorisation.

Whitman has argued in this context for a formal procedure to preserve the independence of UN bodies without paralysing action:

"What is required is not a legal or quasi-legal empowerment of states to assert that their interventions are undertaken on behalf of the international community, but a range of measures (including intervention when appropriate) which are collectively determined, sanctioned and controlled. In other words, not expediency and pragmatism, but law enforcement."44

Given the Security Council’s willingness to condone and authorise the forceful ECOMOG interventions in Liberia and Sierra Leone (albeit ex post facto), it is not inconceivable that a far more robust concept for African peace support operations could be blessed with such legitimacy.

The issue of where and when to intervene in ‘complex emergencies’ will not be resolved with any clarity. Pleas for a more even-handed approach by the international community (via the UN Security Council) are appropriate, but they are unlikely to change the way business has been conducted in the foreseeable future. In conflict situations where the international system remains constipated, it must therefore be accepted that other actors will have to step into the breach (as ECOMOG did in Liberia and Sierra Leone, as NATO did in Kosovo, and as Australia did in East Timor).

Decisions on where and when to intervene, rightly or wrongly, have already been devolved to individual states or groupings of states. They have been taken on the basis of the perceived individual and collective interests of the states concerned, rather than any elevated notions of a right and duty towards humanitarian intervention. A great measure of ‘ad hocracy’ has been tolerated in the process. But these actors, no less than the Security Council, must now also grapple with a perennial problem of law enforcement and justice — equity. More equitable decisions, in turn, can only emerge from more formalised, transparent and effective organisational structures at the regional level

The key issue at stake is the need to achieve greater consistency with regard to military intervention. Greater consistency is required not only in terms of the principles and doctrine that guide operations, but also in terms of the predictability of such interventions. Only then will the collective will of international and/or regional states have a deterrent effect on those who would pursue their sectional interests by forceful means.

The UN has been quite unambiguous in articulating what it can and cannot do in terms of peace support. Basically, it cannot do much beyond Chapter VI peacekeeping in the realm of military intervention. African coalitions, on the other hand, have proven themselves capable of conducting fairly sustained multinational operations that have involved quite heavy combat engagements. What is missing, is the linkage between such African forces and the UN ‘superstructure’, or the so-called ‘civilian component’. The precedent has been set for linking coalition forces with the UN superstructure, and for doing so with extreme rapidity in the case of Kosovo. How this can or should be replicated in the African environment remains an important issue for further debate.

However, the singular challenge for the international community, in general, and Africans, in particular, is to close the gap between rhetoric and reality. African multilateral interventions have developed a momentum of their own, and they have leaned towards the type of ‘conflict termination operations’ described above. This needs to find expression in a realistic intervention doctrine, informed by practice, that goes beyond the ‘right of humanitarian intervention’ and the paying of lip service to An Agenda for Peace.